Best 438 quotes in «epic quotes» category

As I prefer to see it, there has never been an epic love story that involved significant amounts of self-control.

As it 'appens, I am Arthur's right-hand man," said Suzy. "Or left-hand girl, I can't remember where I stood last time. Anyhow, me and Arthur is like two fingers of a gauntlet. Or at least the thumb and the little finger. I mean, I'm his top General, and all. So if I say you're in, you're in.

A thrilling story can be dull if told badly, but even the most mundane event can be elevated into a tale of epic scale by a good storyteller.

A wounded animal yet bears teeth

Azerowut, I must tend to an urgently urgent business and a business that is urgent most urgently. Watch over my tent with extreme care and care that is caring in the extreme, and do not, under any circumstantial circumstances, allow anyone and his brother to be within an uncomfortably uncomfortable distance of her door. --Master Kwadile

Beauty to beguile, spies to ensnare, and gold, always gold, to tempt, to trap, to control.

But they could neither of them persuade me, for there is nothing dearer to a man than his own country and his parents, and however splendid a home he may have in a foreign country, if it be far from father or mother, he does not care about it.

Being on the edge is always worse than going through

Darkness will always be...its own master...

Careful, mother, or you could end up dangling in another's webs.

Come with me Tlothy. Lady misfortune always brings together the unlucky.” Said Aissawa laughing.

Confidence don't mean jack shit in the real world, sis," she once said. I feel myself finding the courage to trust those words more and more with every twist of the knife. Coincidentally, last Tuesday afternoon I was involuntarily exposed to the punch line of an old wise tale that goes something like: "There's beauty that can be found in everything." But why can't the insensitive cunt who said that ever find the courage to look in the mirror? Because poopycock, one might say.

Courage comes in the form of a girl.

Death, you know, keeps secrets better even than a guilty Roman.

Doubt is the one thing a religion cannot afford.

Di gran furore si pregna il suo scheletro, bagliori saettano, uscendo e rientrando da essa come rincorsi durante una fuga. Sembra un dio del cielo, pieno di boria, quando ai mortali si appresta a elargire doni che celano invero soltanto inganni. Alza l’avambraccio, contrae il bicipite, rilucono nei sui occhi di ghiaccio le luci ornate dai lapislazzuli. Secco il rilascio. Un potente boato squassa l’intero suolo.

Di gran furore si pregna il suo scheletro, bagliori saettano, uscendo e rientrando da essa come rincorsi durante una fuga. Sembra un dio del cielo, pieno di boria, quando ai mortali si appresta a elargire doni che celano invero soltanto inganni. Alza l’avambraccio, contrae il bicipite, rilucono nei suoi occhi di ghiaccio le luci ornate dai lapislazzuli. Secco il rilascio. Un potente boato squassa l’intero suolo.

Divide by gender, divide by race, divide by beliefs. These are the three great divides.

Door,' called Richard. 'Don't do it. Don't set it free. We don't matter.' 'Actually,' said the marquis, 'I matter very much. But I have to agree. Don't do it.

Do you know which is the greatest epic till date?

Erroh has a plan. A simple plan. It'll never work.

Few are the birds who fly pass through the human heart

- Fanciulla, non so se sei una dea o una mortale, se sei una dea certo sei Artemide con le tue ancelle. Non ho mai visto niente di così bello come te, io ho provato lo stesso stupore ammirato una sola volta, a Delo quando ho visto un giovane fusto di palma che svettava, flessuoso, diritto verso il cielo. E vedo te come se tu fossi quella palma e provo lo stesso sentimento di ammirazione stupita. Io ho visto tutto questo, ho visto la scena, il torrente, le fanciulle che lavavano la biancheria, ho visto Nausicaa. In seguito, per una gran parte della mia vita mi è successo di guardare così, quando le incontravo, le fanciulle che non conoscevo, le vedevo belle, leggiadre e giovani, mi capitava di guardarle con gli occhi di Ulisse, come se fossero una giovane palma che si leva flessuosa, diritta verso il cielo.

Every once in a while, I get the urge. You know what I'm talking about, don't you? The urge for destruction. The urge to hurt, maim, kill. It's quite a thing to experience that urge, to let it wash over you, to give in to it. It's addictive. It's all-consuming. You lose yourself to it. It's quite, quite wonderful. I can feel it, even as I speak, tapping around the edges of my mind, trying to prise me open, slip its fingers in. And it would be so easy to let it happen. But we're all like that, aren't we? We're all barbarians at our core. We're all savage, murderous beasts. I know I am. I'm sure you are. The only difference between us, Mr. Prave, is how loudly we roar. I know I roar very loudly indeed. How about you. Do you think you can match me?

Fadwick Gorrim, at your service, OLD BOY!” he shouted at his face. “Can it be you, Pyrus? It’s been so long, Py!” Pyrus looked at the ground and shifted his eyes about the courtyard, avoiding his stare.

Fiction is entertaining. Nonfiction is epic.

Gareth Miller grabbed the beer first, then the hotdog, because if there’s one thing you don’t want to be caught dead without at these sorts of events it’s beer. The hotdog was strictly for show, a prop, a way of blending in. Burst of static in his right ear: “G-man, you read me? What’s yo’ twenty, dawg?” Gareth departed the concession stand, stopped, looked down at his hands, and tossed the hotdog into the first trash receptacle he saw. Raising his wrist to his mouth, he spoke into the cuff of his long-sleeved tee. “Concession stand, Section B. Over.” Allowing his hand to linger by his chin, he gingerly scratched his cheek as if he had meant to do it all along. The same voice: “Yo, I’m in position. Ready when you is.” Gareth cringed while crossing the wide concourse, checking both directions. The giant hallway was the main drag of a ghost town, its only residents a solitary custodian sweeping debris into a portable waste bin and the concession crew to his rear.

For Honor and the Octagon!

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.

Give Compassion: Every day the average person fights epic battles never told just to survive.

Happiness is a prison, Evey. Happiness is the most insidious prison of all

He pulled her close and kissed her thoroughly. When they pulled apart, they were both breathless, their hearts pounding. “Was that my reward for being such a good little force of nature?

He clamped her body to his as if by the sheer force of his embrace he could crawl inside her soul and anchor himself there for eternity.

Hektor, argue me no agreements. I cannot forgive you. As there are no trustworthy oaths between men and lions, nor wolves and lambs have spirit that can be brought to agreement but forever these hold feelings of hate for each other, so there can be no love between you and me, nor shall there be oaths between us, but one or the other must fall before then to glut with his blood Ares the god who fights under the shield's guard.

He looked up at the stars as the storm closed in and saw them extinguished, one-by-one, until just two remained. They glimmered and shone through gaps in the clouds like two great eyes in the darkness, burning on a demon’s face that chased him across the sea.

Hercol was simply unwilling to kill. Tholjassans revere life, he had told Ott years ago, possibly the last time they had spoken. So do we, Ott had answered. But sometimes a knife in the dark is the only way to prove it.

He'd chase her to Hell and back if needs be, but whether it was for love, or lust, or power, he did not know.

He spread his arms wide, as if he could embrace the city below. "There are so many things to marvel at. How could anyone want to hurt it? How can people wake up every morning and not think -- The sun is still there! And I'm still here! This is incredible!

I am five, I will never understand why we are stranded in our selves but in this moment I know my own story is understanding our singleness that I am destined to move my body and time into the body-time the story of Others.

His three boats stove around him, and oars and men both whirling in the eddies; one captain, seizing the line-knife from his broken prow, had dashed at the whale, as an Arkansas duellist at his foe, blindly seeking with a six inch blade to reach the fathom-deep life of the whale. That captain was Ahab. And then it was, that suddenly sweeping his sickle-shaped lower jaw benieath him, Moby Dick had reaped away Ahab's leg.

Homer's epic does not tell of such seemingly essential events as the abduction of Helen, for example, nor of the mustering and sailing of the Greek fleet, the first hostilities of the war, the Trojan Horse, and the sacking and burning of Troy. Instead, the 15,693 lines of Homer's Iliad describe the occurrences of a roughly two-week period in the tenth and final year of what had become a stalemated siege of Troy.

How are we going to get out of here?" "Oh, escape is easy once you have the right plan." "Do we have the right plan?" "Not yet." "Do we have any plan?" "Not yet.

I am Detective Inspector Me. This is my partner, Detective Her." The traffic warden frowned. "Her?" "Me," said Stephanie. "Him?" "Not me," said Skulduggery. "Her." "Me," said Stephanie. "You?" said the traffic warden. "Yes," said Stephanie. "I'm sorry, who are you?" Stephanie looked at him. "I'm Her, he's Me. Got it?

His ship sailed south with fear growing in its hold.

His stories were not always new, but there was in the telling of them a special kind of magic. His voice could roll like thunder or hush down into a zepherlike whisper. He could imitate the voices of a dozen men at once; whistle so like a bird that the birds themselves would come to him to hear what he had to say; and when when he imitated the howl of a wolf, the sound could raise the hair on the backs of his listeners' necks and strike a chill into their hearts like the depths of a Drasnian winter. He could make the sound of rain and of wind and even, most miraculously, the sound of snow falling.

I am but a man, Dalinar, so much as I wish it were not true at times. I am no Radiant. And while I am your friend, please understand that our goals do not completely align. You must not trust yourself with me. If I have to watch this world crumble and burn to get what I want, I will do so. With tears, yes, but I would let it happen.

I'd say," the Ranger answered after a few seconds' deliberation, "that he'll be heading south now that he has the chance. Back into Araluen." "How do you know that?" Horace asked. He was always impressed at the two Rangers' ability to read a situation and come up with the correct answer to a problem. Sometimes, he thought, they almost seemed to have divine guidance. "I'm guessing," Halt told him.

I don’t want you.” He moved so quickly she barely had time to gasp before he lifted her off her feet, fused his mouth to hers, and kissed her until her brain melted. Then he set her back on her wobbly legs and said,” That was for the lie. And for future reference, myerina, wrapping your legs around a man and commanding him to pleasure you is not an effective way to illustrate your lack of interest.

I can't tell you how may beautiful women have broken up with me because they were bored. I can't tell you because it never happened. They all adored me." "It was your humility, wasn't it?

If you love my stories, please take a moment to leave a review. It would mean the world to me.