Best 607 quotes in «mythology quotes» category

Paris and Helen He called her: golden dawn She called him: the wind whistles He called her: heart of the sky She called him: message bringer He called her: mother of pearl barley woman, rice provider, millet basket, corn maid, flax princess, all-maker, weef She called him: fawn, roebuck, stag, courage, thunderman, all-in-green, mountain strider keeper of forests, my-love-rides He called her: the tree is She called him: bird dancing He called her: who stands, has stood, will always stand She called him: arriver He called her: the heart and the womb are similar She called him: arrow in my heart.

PDR: Persons of Dubious Reality; refugees from the collective consciousness. Uninvited visitors who have fallen through the grating that divides the real, from the written. They arrive with their actions hardwired due to their repetitious existence and the older and more basic they are, the more rigidly they stick to them. Characters from cautionary tales are particularly mindless; they do what they do because it's what they've always done. And it's our job to stop them.

Peace is one thing, revolution is another. You were either impatient or highly optimistic to think one would lead to the other. – Panchali Draupadi.

Pegasus's dad was poseidon, the god of the sea, and his mom was Medusa, and evil Gorgon who had fangs and lizard skin and living snakes for hair. And you thought your family was weird.

Peleus acknowledged this. "Yet other boys will be envious that you have chosen such a one. What will you tell them?" "I will tell them nothing." The answer came with no hesitation, clear and crisp. "It is not for them to say what I will do.

People always want something more than immediate joy or that deeper sense called happiness. This is one of the secrets by which we shape the fulfillment of our designs. The something more assumes amplified power with people who cannot give it a name or who (most often the case) do not even suspect its existence. Most people only react unconsciously to such hidden forces. Thus, we have only to call a calculated something more into existence, define it and give it shape, then people will follow.

Perceval said to the Grail Knight: “Will you break a spear with me this day?” He did not expect Galahad to look down on him from Lancelot’s immense height and say, gently, as if he knew it must disappoint, “Sir, I cannot.” “No? Well, there are others to fight,” said Perceval, trying not to show how vexed he felt to be denied the honour. “Not for any lack of love,” Galahad added. “But for the regard in which I hold you, Perceval of Wales.

Persephone is just a name for a spirit of beauty at a certain time in history. I'm sure we could argue a biblical place for her if it matters. Your wife has the name of that pagan goddess, but the fact remains that she's your mortal bride in the Year of Our Lord 1888- and she's Catholic, so pray for her, damn it, I don't care how confusing it is. And pray for us, to anyone. If the dead are about to flood Athens, divine goodwill couldn't hurt. Your prayers can be in Hindu, if you like. Now go home.

Personally, I thought it chancy to rely on only one god. It struck me as akin to placing all your drachars on one chariot at the races...It didn't seem logical that one god could ensure the proper working of the world.

Pixies is understood as the counterparts of faeries.

Plus, I happened to be a history nerd. Why else would I be interested in a guy born in the year 519?

Poets are not to blame for how things are.

Rest in Peace?’ Why that phrase? That’s the most ridiculous phrase I’ve ever heard! You die, and they say ‘Rest in Peace!’ …Why would one need to ‘rest’ when they’re dead?! I spent thousands of years of world history resting. While Agamemnon was leading his ships to Troy, I was resting. While Ovid was seducing women at the chariot races, I was resting. While Jeanne d’Arc was hallucinating, I was resting. I wait until airplanes are scuttling across the sky to burst out onto the scene, and I’m only going to be here for a short while, so when I die, I certainly won’t need to rest again! Not while more adventures of the same kind are going on.

Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess excellently bright. Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose, Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess excellently bright. Lay thy bow of pearl apart, And thy crystal-shining quiver, Give unto the flying hart Space to breath, how short soever: Thou that mak'st a day of night- Goddess excellently bright.

Raised as we are on the mythology of the Old Testament, we might say that an idyll is an image that has remained with us like a memory of Paradise: life in Paradise was not like following a straight line to the unknown; it was not an adventure. It moved in a circle among known objects. Its monotony bred happiness, not boredom.

Readiness for action is the root of all kingly duties. Listen to the verse sung by Vrihaspati: By exertion the amrita was obtained, by exertion the asuras were slain and by exertion Indra obtained sovereignity in heaven and on earth. The heroes of exertion are superior to the heroes of speech. The heroes of speech gratify the heroes of exertion.

Rough palms cradled my face while my fingers gripped the pillow on either side of his. Lips, teeth, tongue, mingled together. I ate him up and didn’t let go until I had to come up for air.

Quit Believing in Lies and Always Search For the Truth!

Self-manipulation is our medication. Mythology is our drug. The only cure is honesty.

Secrets are dark things. They don’t exist in the light. They glow faintly in forgotten corners, in mysterious mind-nooks, in lost memory maps. Secrets are the shadows of the soul.

She danced her way right into his heart. Corny, but true.

She comes closer to me. She is beautiful, in the way lightning striking across a storm-swept sky is beautiful: dangerous and distant.

She became his Ariadne, leading him through the labyrinth of books, stopping now and then to pass another one to him.

She knew him as much as the knowing of her own heart’s secret: she was destined for the forest.

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Do you ever not get your way?” He stepped closer to her, his chest an inch from hers until her back pressed against the modular wall of the fitting room. “Rarely.” His dark gaze held hers, and the deep rumble of his voice sent heat through her body. “But some things are worth the extra effort.

She lifted one arm up, covering her forehead in a mock swoon. “You’re sweeping me off my feet.” He laughed, shocked by the sound after the shitty day they’d had. He bent his knees and cradled her in his arms, spinning her around while he drank in the magic of her giggles. Finally, he lowered her onto the bed and lay down beside her. “Now you’ve been swept.

She smiled. “I don’t think your body is up for sex.” He glanced at the bulge in his pants and back to her. “I think parts of my body are.

She ran. Deeper, deeper into the mysterious Broceliande forest...

She quickly interpreted him into her mythology but if, at first, he was a herbivorous lion, later he became a unicorn devouring raw meat.

She tilted her chin up and gave him a big cheeky grin. “I’m official.” Kylah pulled her shirt to the side to reveal her mark. “See.” A low growl came from Aerric when she showed a little more than just her mark. He moved to pull her close and she chuckled right before she shimmered out. “Catch me if you can, dragon boy.

She was prepared for him to shut her down, when Behr shrugged a shoulder and said, “Yeah, sounds good. I think it’s a good idea for you to get out of the house. But,” he said, stepping back into the kitchen and leveling her with a hard look, “only if I tag along.” “What? Why?” Cheyenne questioned, not understanding the need for chaperones. “Because it’s safer that way,” he reasoned. “I have a couple things to take care of first, so it will probably be a day or two. I expect you to wait for me, though, Cheyenne,” he said, his brilliant blue eyes holding her in place. “It’s safer that way.” She was preparing to argue when she realized that she wasn’t altogether sure she wanted to venture out on her own yet anyway. It might be a shock to her system after locking herself away for so long. For laughs, she decided to give him a hard time anyway. “But…” she started. He cut her off with an upraised hand. “No buts,” he said sternly. “It’s not safe and you know it, and besides, that’s what you have two strapping young men like us for.” He clapped a grinning Dehstroy on the back. Cheyenne threw her head back and laughed. “You, young? Ha!” “What?” Behr said, acting offended. “I’m young.” “Prove it,” Cheyenne challenged. “Show me your birth certificate.” When he pursed his lips, she laughed some more. “What’s wrong? Didn’t they make birth certificates yet when you were born? No?” She looked between the men, taking in their sheepish expressions. “Well, then. I’ll leave you two to work on clearing that schedule.” Waving, Cheyenne left the kitchen and headed upstairs to her room to lie down.

She watches him for hours. She wants to be the sheets that cover his toes. She wants to be the ceiling separating him from the sky: above him, the first thing he sees before and after dreams. She wants to be the open window letting in the light for him.

Sirius looked about as intelligent as the temple cats who liked to chase their own tails.

Sir Ector looked into the fire, fidgeting with something in his pocket. "I have something for you," he said at last. "It was your mother's." And he drew out the thing in his pocket and held it up to her. The ring Blanche took from him was antique silver, cabochon-set with a glimmering moonstone. Her mother's ring! Blanche folded it into her hand and held tightly to the only thing her parents had left her.

Sitting down on the stairs, Cheyenne watched Behr through the slats in the railing. She liked what she saw. Covered in a fine sheen of perspiration, muscles swollen from what was clearly a grueling workout, Behr’s toned physique was a serious distraction from her worries, making her content to just sit and watch. Each thump of his fist into the bag resonated in her bones. Each kick of his leg thundered in her ears. Every move seemed to be in time with the harsh sounds of the music pumping through the room, until he was a frenzy of movement. It was frighteningly beautiful. Standing, Cheyenne called out to him. “Behr? Are you hungry?” She was feeling a little peckish herself, and she needed something to keep her hands busy. Between a combination of brutal punches, knee jabs and the music, Behr didn’t hear a word she said. So she decided to go to him. Winding her way through equipment and stepping over the discarded sweaty T-shirt, Cheyenne approached him. Waiting for the right moment to interrupt, she tapped him on the shoulder during a brief pause. Big mistake. Huge.

Sky was the first god. Robert knew that there was only one God and he had a Son who was also God, but there were gods who had vanished: the gods of thunder, of fire, of the wide oceans of the earth.

Sigyn’s way takes such courage. Her way is a quiet way of personal mindfulness and dedication. It is a simple way. It is a terrifying way. Walking in Her footsteps means that there is no place to hide: no fine words, no angry posturing, no pride, no ego, no boasting–Her deeds are boast enough. There is nothing but what must be done and a heart committed to the doing. Sigyn’s way is simple: constancy of the heart, in the face of hatred, opposition, jealousy, slander, exhaustion, grief, anguish, rage, despair and a thousand other obstacles that life has a way of creating. She is constancy of purpose. […] She is vast, and Her strength is vast even as it is so completely unassuming. It simply is and will not be moved. She is the ‘Lady of Unyielding Gentleness’ for much the same reason. Her gentleness of spirit is Her shield and Her strength, and in it She is fierce. Her devotion is Her armor.

Slap on a plume and call me a Fuerma, I can’t believe you’re the Ieta.

Sleep my baby, rock-a-bye, On the edge you must not lie. Wolf the Fluffy roams astray, Will he grab you, drag away? Into Furthest Darkest Woods, Hide you under Willow roots? There birdies chirp and squeak, Will they let you fall asleep?

So Beckendorf was pretty popular?" Leo asked. "I mean-before he blew up?

Solving crimes is like following a spider web. Everything is connected in some way. It's just figuring out where things intersect so I can find the spider in the middle.

So how did it go? I sat on the toilet and ran a hand over my hair. Um... it's still going, I whispered. It's still going? Then what are you doing calling me? Well... it's just that... What? How could I put this? I can't find his penis. Claire paused for half a second. How drunk are you?

Societies continuously try to recreate themselves — shared holidays, shared news, shared traditions, shared language, shared music, shared myths, shared victories, and shared griefs. Shared origins… So by telling each other stories, we recreate ourselves over and over again. Where do we come from? Where are we going? Who are our heroes? Who are the villains? These stories pass our values as a society from one generation to the next. It’s how we understand each other.

So I'm not allowed to take responsibility for the whole world, but you are, huh? Kees felt the corners of his mouth twitch and his heart squeeze and then melt. ... I am bigger, he growled. And she laughed.

Some legends say that Hera's breast milk sprayed across the sky and created the Milky Way. I don't know. That seems like a whole lot of solar systems from just one squirt

Some days I spent up to three hours in the arcade after school, dimly aware that we were the first people, ever, to be doing these things. We were feeling something they never had - a physical link into the world of the fictional - through the skeletal muscles of the arm to the joystick to the tiny person on the screen, a person in an imagined world. It was crude but real. We'd fashioned an outpost in the hostile, inaccessible world of the imagination, like dangling a bathysphere into the crushing dark of the deep ocean, a realm hitherto inaccessible to humankind. This is what games had become. Computers had their origin in military cryptography - in a sense, every computer game represents the commandeering of a military code-breaking apparatus for purposes of human expression. We'd done that, taken that idea and turned it into a thing its creators never imagined, our own incandescent mythology.

Some things can be recovered. Some things can be restored. But some lost things, we seek forever.

Some stories soak into the threads of the universe, beyond time, becoming echoes of memory lingering in the darkness, like dead stars, whispering light.

Sometimes you must slow down to see that the world isnt spinning, rather its your own mind which makes things turn

Sometimes the hardest power to master is the power of yielding. -Hestia