Best 438 quotes in «epic quotes» category

Splendor was the decree of the day.

Summer queens are fine and fair, with pretty ribbons and flowers in their hair. Winter queens are cold and hard, with frosted crowns made of icy shards.

Surely, by all convention, the Iliad will end here, with the triumphant return of its vindicated hero. But the Iliad is not a conventional epic, and at the very moment of its hero's greatest military triumph, Homer diverts his focus from Achilles to the epic's two most important casualties, Patroklos and Hektor: it is to the consequences of their deaths, especially to the victor, that all action of the Iliad has been inexorably leading.

Tek kişi yok ki ölümü görsün. İşitsin sesini ölümün. Ama gerçektir ölüm ve seslidir. Kaç defa elden geçirilmeli bir ev; ya da onaylanmalı bir sözleşme? Hangi malların hangisine ait olduğunu tartışmamayı kaç kez kararlaştırsın iki kardeş? Kaç savaş olmalı, kaç tufan, salgın hastalıklar ve sürgün?

The Greeks shape bronze statues so real they seem to breathe, And carve cold marble until it almost comes to life. The Greeks compose great orations, and measure The heavens so well they can predict the rising of the stars. But you, Romans, remember your great arts; To govern the peoples with authority, To establish peace under the rule of law, To conquer the mighty, and show them mercy once they are conquered." -Virgil, Aeneid VI, 847-853

Taming a city is a thorny problem, so different from conquering it.

The cultured court singer of heroic lays disappears along with the heroic spirit of his public, but heroic poetry survives the heroic age and is more long-lived than the society to which it owes its origin. After the decline of the military aristocratic culture, it turns from an exclusive class interest into a universal art. The fact that this declension was so easily brought about, and that the same kind of poetry could be understood and enjoyed by the upper and lower classes almost simultaneously, can only be explained by assuming that the difference in cultural standards between the rulers and the ruled cannot have been anything like so great as in later ages. It is true that from the very beginning the rulers lived in a different sphere from the people, but they were not yet so conscious of the gulf that divided them from the lower classes.

The door handle turned. Someone knocked, and a man's voice called, "Uh, hello?" Valkyrie looked at Skulduggery, looked back at the others, looked at Skulduggery again. "Hello," Skulduggery said, speaking loudly to be heard over the alarm. "Hi," said the man. "The door's locked." "Is it?" "Yes." "That's funny" said Skulduggery. "Hold on a moment." He reached out, jiggled the handle a few times, then stepped back. "Yes, it's locked. You wouldn't happen to have the key, would you?" There was a delay in response from the other side. "I'm sorry," the man called, "Who am I speaking with?" Skulduggery tilted his head. "Who am I speaking with?" "This is Oscar Nightfall." "Are you sure?" "What?" "Are you sure you are who you say you are? This is the Great Chamber, after all. It's a very important place for very important people. It is not beyond the realms of possibility that someone, and I'm not saying that this applies to you in particular, but someone could conceivably lie about who they are in order to gain access to this room. I have to be vigilant, especially now. There's a war on, you know." Oscar Nightfall sounded puzzled. Who are you?" "Me? I'm nobody. I'm a cleaner. I'm one of the cleaners. I was cleaning the thrones and the door shut behind me. Now I can't get out. Could you try and find a key?" "What's your name? Give me you name." "No. It's mine." "Tell me your name!" "My name is Oscar Nightfall." "What? No it isn't. That's my name." "Is it? Since when?" "Since I took it!" "You didn't ask me if you could take it. I was using it first." "Open this door immediately." "I don't have the key." "I'll fetch the Cleavers." "I found the key. It was in the keyhole. It's always the last place you look isn't it? I'm unlocking the door now. Here we go." Skulduggery relaxed the air pressure, opened the door, and pulled Oscar Nightfall inside. Valkyrie stuck out her foot, and Oscar stumbled over it and Vex shoved him to Ghastly and Ghastly punched him. Oscar fell down and didn't get up again. Skulduggery closed the door once more.

The garden is a miraculous place, and anything can happen on a beautiful moonlit night.

The gods grant a strange power to those who are overlooked, the power to do the unexpected.

The greatest war story ever told commemorates a war that established no boundaries, won no territory, and furthered no cause.

There are twin Gates of Sleep. One, they say, is called the Gate of Horn and it offers easy passage to all true shades. The other glistens with ivory, radiant, flawless, but through it the dead send false dreams up toward the sky. And here Anchises, his vision told in full, escorts his son and Sibyl both and shows them out now through the Ivory Gate.

This isn't the first time I've used this, and the test subject showed no signs of impaired cognitive ability." "Who was the test subject?" asked Aurora. "I test everything out on myself before taking it into the field." She stared at him. "You zapped your own brain?" "And it didn't do me any harm apart from the dizziness and the vomiting spells and the weirdly persistent ringing in my ears. Also the blackouts and the mood swings and the creeping paranoia. Apart from that, zero side effects, if you don't count the numb fingertips. Which I don't.

The rhythm of fraught footsteps and fervent heartbeat orchestrated a symphony of anticipation and dread.

They rode into the unknown, death as their only guide.

They send a girl to slay a god.

This, the only occasion in the Iliad when furious Achilles smiles serves as a bittersweet reminder of the difference real leadership could have made to the events of the Iliad. Agamemnon's panicked prize-grabbing in Book One and even Nestor's rambling "authority" pale beside Achilles' instinctive and absolute command of himself and the dangers of this occasion.

This was safe enough — the shape didn't move, at least — but it could do terrible thing to, let us say, the gyroscope of the soul.

Trusting to the simple disguise of being merely women.

Uphill? There's nothing up the hill," Colly said, trying desperately to work out where this conversation was going. "As a matter of fact, there is. There's a bluff about twelve meters high, with a river running below it. The water's deep, so it'll be quite safe for you to jump." In his brief glimpse of the river, Halt had noticed that the fast-flowing water cut under the bluff in a sharp curve. That should mean that the bottom had been scoured out over the years. A thought struck him. "You can swim, I assume?" "Yes. I can swim," Colly said. "But I'm going jumping off some bluff just because you say to!" "No, no. Of course not. That'd be asking far too much of you. You'll jump off because if you don't, I'll shoot you. It'll be the same effect, really. If I have to shoot you, you'll fall off. But I thought I'd give you a chance to survive." Halt paused, then added, "Oh, and if you decide to run downhill, I'll also shoot you with an arrow. Uphill and off is really your only chance of survival." "You can't be serious!" Colly said. "Do you really-" But he got no further. Halt leaned forward, putting a hand up to stop the outburst. "Colly, take a good, long look into my eyes and tell me if you see anything, anything at all, that says I'm not deadly serious." His eyes were deep brown, almost black. They were steady and unwavering and there was no sign of anything there but utter determination. Colly looked at them and after a few second, his eyes dropped away. halt nodded as the other man's gaze slid away from his. "Good. Now we've got that settled, you should try to get some sleep. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow.

We've seen firsthand the footprints of the Mordant's treachery.

What are we going to do when we get into the temple, anyway? Are we going to fight our way through the Necromancers on our own?" "No, we're going to find a way to let our friends in, and we'll let them fight while we stand by and look smug." "I like that plan." "It has its moments.

What in Helos’s name had just happened? The Calbernan had turned unexpectedly and caught her gaze upon him and then… She dragged in a breath, then another. Ragged. Shaken. She couldn’t even begin to describe what had happened. It was as if, with one look, he’d dived into the deepest, most secret parts of her soul, places no one – not even she – had ever been.

What kind of person do you wish to be? A part of those who take action, who try the hardest, or of those who go with the flow?

What we finally do, out of desperation ... is go on an impossible, or even forbidden, journey or pilgrimage, which from a rational point of view is futile: to find the one wise man, whomever or wherever he may be; and to find from him the secret of eternal life or the secret of adjusting to this life as best we can.

Whether or not the fame of Gilgamesh of Uruk had reached the Aegean – and the idea is attractive – there can be no doubt that it was as great as that of any other hero. In time his name became so much a household word that jokes and forgeries were fathered onto it, as in a popular fraud that survives on eighth-century B.C. tablets which perhaps themselves copy an older text. This is a letter supposed to be written by Gilgamesh to some other king, with commands that he should send improbable quantities of livestock and metals, along with gold and precious stones for an amulet for Enkidu, which would weigh no less that thirty pounds. The joke must have been well received, for it survives in four copies, all from Sultantepe.

You’re the shield, and I’m the sword.

Actually, I always dreamed about getting a gold medal in the 100-meter freestyle in Olympic swimming. I always thought that would be the epic award in sports to get.

after an epic search, I finally found something neither green nor fuzzy. It was a hot sausage link. I named it Peter, mostly because it seemed like the right thing to do. As soon as my java was piping hot I popped him into the microwave. hopefully the radioactive environment would sterilize Peter. No need to have little Peters running around, wreaking havoc.

There was something severed and rough about her, something tainted and, yet, at the same time those jagged pieces were the makings of something fearsome. She'd wanted to become someone the Senate would fear, why not shatter the sky?

The wise will admire you. The wishful will envy you. The weak will hate you. This is the reality for those who dare to be epic.

Thou art mine, Dilys Merimydion. Mine and no other’s.

Thus spake brave Horatius, the captain of the gate. To all men upon this Earth, death cometh soon or late. And what better way to die, than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of ones' fathers, and the temples of ones' G/Ds? For the tender mother, who dandled him to rest. And for the wife, who nurses his baby at her breast. And for the holy maidens, who feed the eternal flame. To save them from false sextus, that wrought the deed of shame. Lay down the bridge, Sir Consul, with all the speed ye may. I, with two more at either side, shall hold the foe in play. In Yon straight path a thousand may well be stop by three. Now who will stand on either hand and hold the bridge with me?

We are all born as storytellers. Our inner voice tells the first story we ever hear.

We're authors, too," Donegan said, "and we've been trying to get into the picture-book market. We have this idea for a Where's Wally type thing, except in ours, you'd have to find the one living person hiding in among all the dismembered corpses while the chainsaw-wielding killer hunts him down. You know, for kids." "We're going to call is Save the Survivor," Gracious said.

We take to the skies, Stormblessed," Lunamor said. "We will walk no more in coming days. This is the end.

What are you doing to me?” she gasped. “No more than you are doing to me,” he muttered.

What do you fear so much, that you would run so hard from what you want?

What happened yesterday was a mistake, but it’s over now. In the past, I’ve forgotten it, and so should you.” His brows rose. “You have forgotten? This, I do not believe.” He stepped closer again. She retreated up another stair. “What passed between us was not forgettable. I am not forgettable. Not to you.” “You have a high opinion of yourself.” “No higher than deserved. But I know when a woman looks at me and likes what she sees. And I know when she wants more.

Whoa, don't assume, dude," Marco said. "My mom always said, when you assume you make an ass of u and me--

You can’t do epic if you’re thinking basic

You promise?" "I cross the place where my heart used to be and wish to be even more deader than I am now.

You're a puppet...you just don't feel the strings.

You will know him by the blade he carries and the Dark-born skill with which he wields it, for none who know the love of the Father may defeat the Darkblade, yet all must stand against him.

A classic lecture, rich in sentiment, With scraps of thundrous Epic lilted out By violet-hooded Doctors, elegies And quoted odes, and jewels five-words-long, That on the stretched forefinger of all Time Sparkle for ever.

All the men in my life have been two things: an epic and an epidemic.

Against the odds, John Carter is itself pretty amazing-an epic pulp saga that slowly rises to the level of its best imitations and wins you over by degrees. I say that as a grown-up moviegoer; behind me at a recent screening was a row of 10-year-old boys who were ecstatically in from the get-go. That's probably all that matters.

Anything that gets your blood racing is probably worth doing.

Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama or narrative, is really a succession of separate poetic experiences governed into a related whole by an energy distinct from that which evoked them.

A pair of legs engineered to defy the laws of physics and a mindset to master the most epic of splits.