Best 438 quotes in «epic quotes» category

When I was growing up, my idea of Led Zeppelin was all epic lasers, castles, and ten-minute drum solos - that sort of thing.

When people thought the earth was flat, they were wrong. When people thought the earth was spherical, they were wrong. But if you think that thinking the earth is spherical is just as wrong as thinking the earth is flat, then your view is wronger than both of them put together.

When there are rock festivals where there are sometimes 120,000 people and they're all sold out and they're epic, I think rock is alive and well, and hopefully it stays that way.

When the responses elicited by the Epic of Evolution are gathered together several religious principles emerge that I can believe, serve as a framework for a global Ethos.

When Ulysses hears his own story sung by an epic poet and then he reveals his identity and the poet wants to continue singing, Ulysses isn't interested any longer. That's very astonishing.

Why vampires? You write centuries-long family sagas—why not write historical epics without any hint of the supernatural?"   "Well, that would be boring, wouldn't it?"   "Yeah, God only knows what Tolstoy was thinking.

whether they'll write the story of my life as a tragedy or an epic fantasy... I was wondering if it was going to be a kiss at the end, or sad music and a sweeping camera shot over the fields I once roamed freely. I'm hoping for the kiss, but expecting the sweeping camera shot.

When you think about it, some people don't like certain things, but when it comes to music, no matter who you are, where you're from, what kind of personality you've got...everyone loves music of some sort; that's what's so epic about it.

Why haven't we fixed sick yet? You scientists there-- put down those starfish and HELP us. I hereby demand that all the people who are good at math make the world free of illness. The rest of us will write you epic poems and staple them together into a booklet.

With several different kinds of poetry to choose from, a man would decide that he would like best to be an epic poet, and he would set out, in conscious determination, on an epic poem.

With most electronic music I hear now, the things I like will be the things that have soul. It has to have a feeling in it, where it feels warm, or feels epic. I like to play with that in my music as well, there will always be a piano chord or something underneath it to make you feel at home. I always try and make sure even with vocals and layering that you still feel like you know me, no matter whether you're into grime or hip hop.

With the possible exception of things like box scores, race results, and stock market tabulations, there is no such thing as Objective Journalism. The phrase itself is a pompous contradiction in terms.

You can tell alot about a fellow's character by his way of eating jellybeans.

You can impress from a distance, but you can only impact up close.

You're not as much of a lost cause as she was. I mean, with her, I had to overcome her deep, epic love with a Russian warlord. You and I just have to overcome hundreds of years' worth of deeply ingrained prejudice and taboo between our two races. Easy.

You never graduate from the school of discipleship.

You no longer have much in the way of knowing what to do in a big, epic novel about the future, because nobody knows what the hell is going to happen.

You have to be doing things that matter - responsibility, but also responsibility with epic and beautiful and noble tasks.

Young people today are flooded with disconnected images but lack a sympathetic instrument to analyze them as well as a historical frame of reference in which to situate them. I am reminded of an unnerving scene in Stanley Kubrick's epic film, 2001: A Space Odyssey, where an astronaut, his air hose cut by the master computer gone amok, spins helplessly off into space.

Your life is meant to be an epic story. How you think, perform and live today is part of that script.

Your life was meant to be epic. Stand up for your best today.

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.

Ah, here we are. Your watercoach, Myerialanna.”Calivan gestured to a lacquered blue-green boat, open at the front, and shaped to resemble a cresting wave, complete with silver fringe and accents made to resemble sea foam. “How beautiful,” Gabriella said as Dilys helped her into the fanciful canal boat. “I almost feel as if it should be pulled by a harnessed team of dolphins.” “That’s only for when we take the coach for a spin on the open sea,” Dilys said.

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

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.

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.

A wounded animal yet bears teeth

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.

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

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

Being on the edge is always worse than going through

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

Courage comes in the form of a girl.

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

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

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

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

Doubt is the one thing a religion cannot afford.

Do you know which is the greatest epic till date?

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.

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.

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.

- 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.

Few are the birds who fly pass through the human heart

Fiction is entertaining. Nonfiction is epic.

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

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.