Best 46 of Norse mythology quotes - MyQuotes
And yet, it was still a performance. Odin and I both knew it. It was a kind of play, a dream of how things might have been if he and I had been capable of trusting each other for a change. And so we hunted, and sang, and laughed, and told heavily edited stories of the good old days, while each of us watched the other and wondered when the knife would fall.
I happen to know that history is nothing but a spin and metaphor, which is what all yarns are made up of, when you strip them down to the underlay. And what makes a hit or a myth, of course, is how that story is told, and by whom.
Everybody can imagine how frightened the farmer became as he watched Thor’s eyebrows sink down low over his eyes. The small part of Thor’s eyes that was visible was a sight that alone could have killed. Thor’s hands clenched the shaft of the hammer until his knuckles whitened. As might be expected, the farmer and all his household began to wail. Begging for mercy, they offered in return everything they owned. When Thor saw their fear, his anger passed. Calming down, he took from them their children, Thjalfi and Roskva, as compensation. They became Thor’s bond servants and follow him ever since.
Your wolf is eating that man. I thought you should know.
I don't understand a word you're saying," snapped Odin. "That's because you're throttlin' me, sir," said Sugar. Odin loosened his grip.
Mrs. Pott's beady black eyes narrowed,"Do you know how many glass slippers I have to stitch when I get home? There's a Mad Hatter serenading a toaster as we speak. There could be mayhem wreaking havoc all over the love in New Gotham, granted what thankless ingrates you are. But here I am! I've taken a chance on you..
The Midgard Serpent opened its mouth and swallowed the ox head. The hook dug into the gums of its mouth, and when the serpent felt this, he snapped back so hard that both of Thor’s fists slammed against the gunwale. Thor now became angry and, taking on his divine strength, he strained so hard that both his feet pushed through the bottom of the boat. Using the sea floor to brace himself, he began pulling the serpent up on board. It can be said that no one has seen a more terrifying sight than this: Thor, narrowing his eyes at the serpent, while the serpent spits out poison and stares straight back from below. It is told that the giant Hymir changed colour. He grew pale and feared for his life when he saw the serpent and also the sea rushing in and out of the boat.
The old witch bears many giants for sons, and all in the shape of wolves; and from this source are those wolves sprung. The saying runs thus: from this race shall come one that shall be mightiest of all; he that is named Moon-Hound; he shall be filled with the flesh of all those men that die, and he shall swallow the moon, and sprinkle with blood the heavens and all the air; thereof shall the sun lose her shining, and the winds in that day shall be unquiet and roar on every side.
Nobody really has anybody,” I told her. “We all must die, and we all die alone.
Those movies... ridiculously inaccurate. The real gods of Asgard — Thor, Loki, Odin, and the rest — are much more powerful, much more terrifying than anything Hollywood could concoct.
Where is the palace?” “Just over yonder.” Tiny waved to his left, causing a new low-pressure front. “Easy two-minute walk.” I tried to translate that from Giantese. I figured that meant the palace was about seven billion miles away.
When the builder saw that the work would not be finished, he flew into a giant’s rage. Once the Æsir realized for certain that they were facing a mountain giant, they no longer respected their oaths. They called upon Thor, who came immediately, and the next thing to happen was that the hammer Mjollnir was in the air. In this way Thor paid the builder his wages, but not the sun and the moon. Rather, Thor put an end to the giant’s life in Jotunheim. He struck the first blow in such a way that the giant’s skull broke into small pieces, and so Thor sent him down to Niflhel.
The story is that Odin travelled from home and came to a place where nine slaves were cutting hay. He asked if they wanted him to sharpen their scythes. They agreed. Then he took a whetstone from his belt and sharpened the scythes. To them it seemed that the scythes now cut much better, and they wanted to buy the whetstone. Odin set this price on the stone: he asked that whoever wanted to buy it should give what he thought was reasonable. They all said they wanted it and each asked to buy it, but instead he threw it into the air. They all scrambled to catch it with the result that they slit each other’s throats with their scythes.
A. S. Byatt
But if you write a version of Ragnarok in the twenty-first century, it is haunted by the imagining of a different end of things. We are a species of animal which is bringing about the end of the world we were born into. Not out of evil or malice, or not mainly, but because of a lopsided mixture of extraordinary cleverness, extraordinary greed, extraordinary proliferation of our own kind, and a biologically built-in short-sightedness.
You show me an angel that breaks bad, and I’ll show you a devil in disguise.
Then spoke Gangleri: 'Where is the chief centre or holy place of the gods?' High replied: 'It is at the ash Yggdrasil. There the gods must hold their courts each day.' Then spoke Gangleri: 'What is there to tell about that place?' Then said Just-as-high: 'The ash is of all trees the biggest and best. Its branches spread out over all the world and extend across the sky. Three of the tree's roots support it and extend very, very far. One is among the Æsir, the second among the frost-giants, where Ginnungagap once was. The third extends over Niflheim, and under that root is Hvergelmir, and Nidhogg gnaws the bottom of the root. But under the root that reaches towards the frost-giants, there is where Mimir's well is, which has wisdom and intelligence contained in it, and the master of the well is called Mimir. He is full of learning because he drinks of the well from the horn Giallarhorn. All-father went there and asked for a single drink from the well, but he did not get one until he placed his eye as a pledge. Thus it says in Voluspa: I know it all, Odin, where you deposited your eye, in that renowned well of Mimir. Mimir drinks mead every morning from Val-father's pledge. Know you yet, or what?
You’re the god of fishing,” Blitzen said. Njord frowned. “Other things as well, Mr. Dwarf.” “Please, call me Blitz,” said Blitz. “Mr. Dwarf was my father.
When the Æsir saw Odin flying, they placed their vats in the courtyard, and when Odin entered Asgard he spat the mead into the vats. It was such a close call, with Suttung almost catching him, that he blew some of the mead out of his rear. No one paid attention to this part, and whoever wanted it took it; we call this the bad poets’ portion.
When the all-father in eagle form had almost reached the vats, with Suttung immediately behind him, Odin blew some of the mead out of his behind, a splattery wet fart of foul-smelling mead right in Suttung’s face, blinding the giant and throwing him off Odin’s trail. No one, then or now, wanted to drink the mead that came out of Odin’s ass.
I suppose he never gets blisters, then,” Scot murmured, then looked up and said, “And in truth, one of the reasons that I’d rather retain my code and my religion is that my gods are flawed and hypocritical. They get blisters—metaphorically. Thor wrangles with rage and Loki with jealousy. The only perfect god, Baldr, was killed for his perfection, which of course proves that pure perfection is an imperfection, or . . .” Scot hesitated, “something like that.” Even he felt that he could have summed that up better. “There’s pagan wisdom for you,” Gawain scoffed in derision. “Perfection is imperfect and imperfection is preferable. It’s circular logic.” Scot rolled his eyes, rubbing his ankle. “Paganism (as you condescendingly call my faith) is circular. Your Christianity tries to make everything into a straight line… in order for your world to make sense, everything must have a start and an end. In any case, your king is cut from the same cloth as your Christ—both are like Baldr, too good to last for long—either you are blind or he is a liar. Real people and gods struggle to be their best and fail.
Don’t stay out too late. The real trouble always starts after midnight.
You know why I really hated you? With all that you had you were just so oblivious to it all. You didn't use your beauty. You didn't ever try to get what you wanted. You didn't deserve what you had. I did because I would have used it. And you just...loved me. Loved me no matter what I did. You have no idea how I despised you for that. I wanted you gone." 'The Yielding
Thor looked at Maddy. "What d'you mean, Father?" He had loosened his grip on Loki, who was now flattened against the cell wall as far from Jormungand as he could manage while Ellie, incensed at this latest invasion, lashed out at the serpent with her walking stick. "Terrific," said Loki under his breath. "Come to Netherworld. Meet the kids.
I'm warning you now," said Freyja stiffly, "I have...certain issues...with Loki." (Maddy wondered briefly whether there was anyone in the Nine Worlds who didn't have issues with Loki.)
When I met you, I just knew,” he said as his fingers trailed down my temple. “I knew you were good, and I knew you were who I was looking for.
She swung her legs around his waist and crossed her ankles behind his back. “I like the way your mind works,” she panted before losing herself in the sensation of his hardness rubbing against her core. Lief took the few steps across the room to the bed in record time and flung her down on the covers. He leaned back to tear his clothes off. “My mind hardly works at all when you are near.” She chuckled leaning back on her elbows, enjoying the view of naked flesh being revealed. She rose up on her knees and traced the ridges on his chest and abdomen. As her fingers trailed down toward his proud shaft, he captured her wrists. “Be careful.” He smiled down at her. “I’m loaded and might go off any minute.” She laughed. “You’ve been watching too many old Western movies with Harold.
I had forgotten that, while Thor hurls his Hammer from storm-clouds, Odin prefers his strike to come out of a calm sky.
HB: Given all the theologies you were dealing with, did you receive any outraged letters? NG: I did; but most of them were from comics fans who felt I was creating cruel parodies of the Marvel Comics characters Thor, Loki, and Odin. [Laughter.] At the same time, I received quite a few letters from readers in Denmark, Norway, and Sweden who thanked me for portraying Norse gods accurately. All I really did was follow the actual legends. In Norse mythology, Thor is enormously strong, bearded, and overmuscled; and he’s also quite stupid, and is easily made drunk. And if you rub his hammer, it really does get bigger. [Laughter.] The legends also strongly imply that Thor’s wife is bonking Loki on the side.
Angela B. Chrysler
Hjuki and Bil Hjuki and Bil chased the moon, With waters from Byrgir’s well, Upon their shoulders they did share, Simul the pole and Saegr. ‘Mani,’ they cried and chased the sky, ‘From Byrgir whence we came, To water the earth and water your drink, And water the seas with rain’. Hati looked back and Skol ahead, But Mani gave no reply, For Hjuki he took, and bent his crook, And Bil was taken thereafter. Hjuki and Bil still chase the moon, From Byrgir whence they came, To water the earth and water the drink, And water the seas with rain.
That’s the funny thing about love,” he said. “It doesn’t wait for perfection – the heart loves who it loves, exactly as they are, faults and all.
Can’t a girl wear something pretty without you getting ideas of bedding her?” Naya reached up, putting her hand behind his neck to pull him down for a kiss. She’d never get enough of touching him. Of trusting him.
Does Yggdrasil drink from it because it is the Well of Wisdom, or is it the Well of Wisdom because Yggdrasil drinks from it?
Seven o'clock on a Monday morning, five hundred years after the End of the World, and goblins had been at the cellar again.
Is it the Well of Wisdom because Yggdrasil drinks from it, or does Yggdrasil drink from it because it is the Well of Wisdom?
If you survive in battle, it is with Odin's grace, and if you fall, it is because he has betrayed you.
On the crest of a hill, under an inky black sky, Valhalla stands in all her splendour. Spears hold up a roof made from battle-worn shields. They're scratched and gouged, blood glistening in nicks and groves. Magic makes the impossible, possible. The Hall of the Slain. Gloriously strange and macabre.
That's it? That's all that happens after you topple from grace? We lose our rubies and rations?" Marshall smirked. "Woe is me.
She had one thing to do, and she didn’t do it.
The sound of wings flapping pulled me from my moment of relieved euphoria, and I looked up to see a massive black raven standing at the end of the alley. It was roughly the size of a bobcat, larger than any raven I’d ever seen before, and its beady eyes were locked right on me. Even though the purple light from Sigrún had all but gone out, the light somehow seemed to linger on the bird’s black feathers. It titled its head as it watched me, squawking once. “What do you want?” I demanded, but the raven had no reply. It just flapped its wings and disappeared into the night sky.
Now he understood what it was to be a man: that it was to be weak as well as strong, to be foolish sometimes and wise sometimes, to know love as well as to kill. And he had learned that there were other paths for him, other gods who called in the deep places of the earth, in the lap of wavelets on the shore, in the breath of the wind. He had learned that there were other kinds of courage. He knew, with deep certainty, that the islands held a new path for him. He need only move forward and find it.
It is better to live on the sea and let other men raise your crops and cook your meals. A house smells of smoke, a ship smells of frolic. From a house you see a sooty roof, from a ship you see Valhalla.
Many things that seem not to exist are simply in the Dwarfs' safekeeping.
A. S. Byatt
The black thing in her brain and the dark water on the page were the same thing, a form of knowledge. This is how myths work. They are things, creatures, stories, inhabiting the mind. They cannot be explained and do not explain; they are neither creeds nor allegories. The black was now in the thin child’s head and was part of the way she took in every new thing she encountered.
Mrs. Potts beady black eyes narrowed,"Do you know how many glass slippers I have to stitch when I get home? There's a Mad Hatter serenading a toaster as we speak. There could be mayhem wreaking havoc all over the love in New Gotham, granted what thankless ingrates you are. But here I am!
Because," said Thor, "When something goes wrong, the first thing I think is, it is Loki's fault. It saves a lot of time.
I recalled my encounter with the sea goddess Ran, who had described her husband as a hipster who liked microbrewing. At the time, the description had been too weird to comprehend. Afterward, it had seemed funny. Now it seemed a little too real, because I was pretty sure the hipster god in question was standing right in front of me.