The moment a man is finished with sex as an instinct that is forcing him to do something, he becomes in a certain way a master of himself and he starts having insights, visions which the unconscious, instinctive man cannot have.
The instinctive man clings to everything: to sex, to money, to power -- to everything.
The instinctive love can become any moment hate. The man who was ready to die for you can kill you. The woman who was so caring towards you, so loving towards you, can poison you; literally she can poison you. Love, if it is instinctive, is not in your hands; you are just a slave. The unconscious is very easily convertible into its opposite, and you cannot do anything about it.
But when love comes to the conscious level -- that is, when it comes to the level of intellect, not instinct -- then it has a different flavor. Then it has no biological purpose.
What biological purpose can music have? What biological purpose can poetry have? or painting? or philosophy? But Socrates is ready to die for his philosophy. There seems to be a tremendous love affair with his own system that he has created. He knows perfectly well that his death is not going to destroy his philosophy, but if he compromises just to go on living, that may destroy his whole philosophy. The very compromise -- because that was one of his teachings: never compromise.
Truth is truth, and untruth is untruth.
And there is no possibility of compromise.