Best 69 quotes in «achilles quotes» category

Achilles was like a rock star of his day so it made sense to have Brad Pitt playing him.

You're a strange kind of boy," said Achilles. "I was not tested for normality before I was entrusted with this mission," said Suriyawong. "But I have no doubt that I would fail such a test.

Achilles, without his heel, you wouldn't even know his name today.

You've injured me, Farshooter, most deadly of the gods; And I'd punish you, if I had the power.

Achilles only had an Achilles heel, I have an entire Achilles body.

Ah, beer, my one weakness. My Achille's heel, if you will.

All interesting heroes have an Achilles heel.

An achilles, if it doesn't heal right, there could be a danger of not playing again.

Anybody who has political ambition has an Achilles heel.

For violence, like Achilles' lance, can heal the wounds it has inflicted.

At Achilles tomb, O fortunate youth, to have found Homer as the herald of your glory!

Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.

First of all, most traders don't have a winning strategy. Second, even among those traders who do, many don't follow their strategy. Trading puts pressure on weaker human traits and seems to seek out each individual's Achilles' heel.

I guess the solo from 'Achilles Last Stand' is in the same tradition as the solo from 'Stairway to Heaven'...it is on that level to me.

Sing, O muse, of the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans.

I ruptured my plantaris muscle. It runs through the calf and goes down the side of your achilles and stretches right to the heel.

Most liberals think of civil liberties as their Achilles heel. It isn't.

It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles whom we knew.

Love, why have you sought the horde of spearsmen, why the tent Achilles pitched beside the river-ford?

Because you made me feel, Flick. Everyone is so predictable, but you? You showed up and rocked my world.

The Achilles Heel of the Americas was the lack of cultural confidence typical of new settlers.

Themistocles being asked whether he would rather be Achilles or Homer, said, "Which would you rather be, a conqueror in the Olympic games, or the crier that proclaims who are conquerors?

There comes a point where certain things are becoming my Achilles heel; you know when you start repeating yourself and saying the same anecdotes over and over again you start slowly hating yourself.

We read about how Ajax and Achilles will die for each other, but very little about the friendship of women.

You know, you can't see or touch and isn't embodied. But they were all fallible, the Gods. And they would kind of rise and fall. You know, they all, like Achilles, Icarus, you know, they all had their high points and their low points.

To reveal imprudently the spot where we are most sensitive and vulnerable is to invite a blow. The demigod Achilles admitted no one to his confidence.

What song the Syrens sang, or what name Achilles assumed when he hid himself among women, though puzzling questions, are not beyond all conjecture.

Achilles weeps. He cradles me, and will not eat, nor speak a word other than my name.

...all the grace I saw then was his own: simple, unadorned, glorious.

As for the goddess’s answer, I did not care. I would have no need of her. I did not plan to live after he was gone.

He looked different in sleep, beautiful but cold as moonlight. I found myself wishing he would wake so that I might watch the life return.

Besides," said Suriyawong. "This was not a rescue operation." "What was it, target practice? Chinese skeet?" "An offer of transportation to an invited guest of the Hegemon," said Suriyawong. "And the loan of a knife." Achilles held up the bloody thing, dangling it from the point. "Yours?" he asked. "Unless you want to clean it," said Suriyawong. Achillese handed it to him. Suriyawong took out his cleaning kit and wiped down the blade, then began to polish it. "You wanted me to die," said Achilles quietly. "I expected you to solve your own problems," said Suriyawong.

For Achilles, the death of Patroclus pushed him into a fury, but it was not only grief that drove him. It was also a sense of shame and guilt because he had not been there to protect his friend. Sometimes men in combat feel this sort of survivor’s guilt even though, realistically, they could have done nothing to prevent their comrade’s death.

Briseis blinked, shaking her head in disbelief. 'You have taken everything from me. My husband. My brothers. My father. You have given me no word of my mother. There is nowhere else for me to go.' 'I expect too much,' he stated. 'Their faces fade from my memory,' Briseis said, quietly. 'Without them, I have nothing.

He looked different in sleep, beautiful but cold as moonlight.

He must lay siege against Briseis' walls and conquer her. Love would be his sword and he would break all her chains.

He stands apart with Patroclus, his beloved through all eternity, and Patroclus - who loves Achilles but not as much as he is loved - waits for Achilles to move. His deference to Achilles is different from that of others, They honour and respect him, keep a wise distance, because Achilles was better than the rest. Better at being human. Fighting, singing, speaking, raging (oh, he is good at that still). Killing. But Patroclus alone is humbled by Achilles' love. Only a fool thinks that to be more loved than loving gives you power. Only a fool vaunts it and displays his own littleness by bragging to his friends and making capricious demands of his lover. Patroclus isn't a fool. He knows that he is less than Achilles even in this. Humbled by the intensity of Achilles' love he loves him back with all his large, though lesser, heart.

I could not burn your mortality from your body, so live before your days are gone and regret fills your heart.

I conjure the boy I knew. Achilles, grinning as the figs blur in his hands. His green eyes laughing into mine. Catch, he says. Achilles, outlined against the sky, hanging from a branch over the river. The thick warmth of his sleepy breath against my ear. If you have to go, I will go with you. My fears forgotten in the golden harbor of his arms. The memories come, and come. She listens, staring into the grain of the stone. We are all there, goddess and mortal and the boy who was both.

It is always as it was between Achilles and Homer: one person has the experience, the sensation, the other describes it. A real writer only gives words to the affects and experiences of others; he is an artist in divining a great deal from the little that he has felt. Artist are by no means people of great passion, but they frequently present themselves as such, unconsciously sensing that others give greater credence to the passions they portray if the artist's own life testifies to his experience in this area. We need only let ourselves go, not control ourselves, give free play to our wrath or our desire, and the whole world immediately cries: how passionate he is! But there really is something significant in a deeply gnawing passion that consumes and often swallows up an individual: whoever experiences this surely does not describe it in dramas, music, or novels. Artists are frequently unbridled individuals, insofar, that is, as they are not artists: but that is something different.

In Homers Ilias scheint Thetis jedenfalls keine Einwände gegen die Beziehung ihres Sohnes Achilles zu Patrokles gehabt zu haben. Und Königin Olympias von Makedonien (eine der mächtigsten Frauen der Antike, die angeblich ihren Mann ermorden ließ) hatte offenbar nichts dagegen, als ihr Sohn Alexander der Große seinen Geliebten Hephaestion zum Essen nach Hause brachte.

In the end it was only Peter who had something he could say from the heart. "Am I the only one here who sees something of himself in the man who's lying inside this box?" No one had an answer for him, either yes or no.

I have done it," she says. At first I do not understand. But then I see the tomb, and the marks she has made on the stone. A C H I L L E S, it reads. And beside it, P A T R O C L U S. "Go," she says. "He waits for you." In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.

Indeed, he seemed utterly unaware of his effect on the boys around him.

I recognized the handwriting, and my heart gave a skip; when I opened it I got a turn, for it began, 'To my beloved Hector,' and I thought, by God she's cheating on me, and has sent me the wrong letter by mistake. But in the second line was a reference to Achilles, and another to Ajax, so I understood she was just addressing me in terms which she accounted fitting for a martial paladin; she knew no better. It was a common custom at that time, in the more romantic females, to see their soldier husbands and sweethearts as Greek heroes, instead of the whore-mongering, drunken clowns most of them were. However, the Greek heroes were probably no better, so it was not far off the mark.

I think: this is what I will miss. I think: I will kill myself rather than miss it. I think: how long do we have?

I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me.

- 'I've never had a thing for homicidal charmers before.' - 'But now you do?' - 'Apparently.' -I muttered, knowing he could feel my raicing heartbeat under his chest. - 'Well, if it helps, I've never had a thing for beautiful, deceptively brave, innocent charmers before.' - 'And now you do?' His grin widened, taking on a wolfish look. - 'Definitely

The heat rose up my neck, wrapped fingers over my face. His hair fell around me, and I could smell nothing but him. The grain of his lips seemed to rest a hairsbreadth from mine.

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, That all with one consent praise new-born gauds, Though they are made and moulded of things past, And give to dust that is a little gilt More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. The present eye praises the present object.