Down on your knees, and thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's

“Down on your knees, and thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love.” – Euripides
So spoke the ancient tragedian, Euripides, whose words, born from the fires of Greece, still burn through the ages. In this line, he reveals a truth that is both sacred and solemn: that a good man’s love is not a gift to be taken lightly, but a blessing divine — a force worthy of reverence, gratitude, and awe. When he commands, “Down on your knees,” he calls not for submission, but for recognition — for humility before the rarest of all gifts, the pure and steadfast love of one whose heart is true.

To thank heaven, fasting, is to purify one’s soul in gratitude — to strip away pride, vanity, and worldly greed, and stand bare before the divine, acknowledging that such love is grace, not entitlement. Euripides understood, even in his age of heroes and gods, that love grounded in goodness is a miracle — it redeems the heart, sanctifies life, and makes the ordinary holy. In a world where power and beauty were worshiped, he lifted virtue to the altar, declaring that the love of a good man is more precious than the treasures of kings.

The Greeks, wise in their myth and tragedy, knew that not all love is noble. Many loves destroy — the love of Paris for Helen burned a thousand ships; the love of Medea turned to vengeance and ruin. But a good man’s love — one born of honor, patience, and truth — heals rather than consumes. It is the kind of love that asks for nothing but gives everything. To receive such a love is to be entrusted with something divine, and Euripides, with the gravity of a prophet, reminds us that one must meet such a gift with reverence, not neglect.

Consider the life of Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-king of Rome. His love for his wife, Faustina, though tested by rumor and hardship, remained constant. In his Meditations, he never spoke bitterly of her, but with gentleness and respect, thanking the gods for every virtue she possessed. His love was not passion’s fire, but virtue’s flame — steady, enduring, and selfless. And he knew, as Euripides knew, that to be loved in such a way is to be touched by heaven. It is not to be possessed, but to be uplifted.

When Euripides speaks of a good man, he does not mean a flawless one. He speaks of a man who strives toward justice, who protects, forgives, and endures; a man who loves not for vanity, but from the soul. His love is strength made gentle, power made kind. In an age where warriors were praised for conquest, Euripides praised the man who conquers himself — his temper, his pride, his fear — so that he may love rightly. To be loved by such a man is to be seen, known, and cherished not for one’s beauty, but for one’s essence.

Yet this teaching extends beyond women and lovers. It is a call to all who receive goodness from another’s heart — to cherish, to give thanks, to never take lightly the quiet sacrifices that true love makes. For in every act of care, every word of patience, every moment of forgiveness, the divine whispers through human hearts. Love rooted in goodness is the reflection of the divine order itself — a light that shines even in the world’s darkest corners.

So, to the listener of these words: when you encounter a love that is patient, honorable, and true — fall to your knees in gratitude. Do not seek to own it; seek to honor it. Live in a way that is worthy of it. Fast from selfishness, from pride, from carelessness, and let your heart bow before the miracle of goodness in another. For such love is not of this earth alone. As Euripides taught, it descends from heaven — and it is only fitting that we receive it with humility, reverence, and endless thanks.