A tragedy is an imitation of an action; it is serious, self-contained, described in poetic language, told dramatically rather than narratively, and it uses plot twists to fi rst arouse pity and fear and then resolve them through the purging of catharsis . . . Of the six ingredients that together make a tragedy—plot, character, diction, thought, spectacle, and song—plot is the most vital. Since tragedy imitates life rather than persons, it must follow the pattern of our own lives in revealing its truth through action. Character gives us certain qualities, but it is our actions that lead us either to happiness or unhappiness. Dramatic action rather than character development is what drives the tragic drama to its climax . . . The function of a poet or playwright is to describe not what has happened—that is the job of the historian—but what might happen, according to the laws of probability and necessity. And, contrary to popular opinion, it is more than the choice of prose or verse that separates historians from poets. Put the work of Herodotus into verse and it would still be history. Poetry is closer to philosophy than to history and, like philosophy, it has the high calling of dealing with universals rather than particulars . . .