Flint: I... am Brahms.
Spock: And DaVinci?
Spock: How many other names shall we call you?
Flint: Solomon, Alexander, Lazarus, Methuselah, Merlin, Abrahmson – a hundred other names you do not know.
Spock: You were born?
Flint: In that region of Earth later called Mesopotamia in the year 3834 BC, as the millennia are now reckoned. I was Akharin; a soldier, a bully – and a fool. I fell in battle, pierced to the heart... and did not die.
McCoy: Instant tissue regeneration, coupled with some perfect form of biological renewal – you learned that you were immortal!
Flint: And to conceal it. To live some portion of a life. To pretend to age, and then move on before my nature was suspected.
Spock: Your wealth and your intellect are the product of centuries of acquisition. You knew the greatest minds in history:
Flint: Galileo, Socrates, Moses. I have married a hundred times, Captain. Selected, loved, cherished. Caressed a smoothness, inhaled a brief fragrance. Then age, death, the taste of dust. Do you understand?