Best 30 quotes in «circe quotes» category

And his hair was free, no ponytail, no braid, the long thickness of it waved and curled down his back, over his shoulders and next to his face. I felt my lungs start burning. Holy freaking moly… my husband was hot!

But gods are born of ichor and nectar, their excellences already bursting from their fingertips. So they find their fame by proving what they can mar: destroying cities, starting wars, breeding plagues and monsters. All that smoke and savor rising so delicately from our altars. It leaves only ash behind.

As a young man, I was startled by the popularity of these “misogynistic” portrayals of women in literary works to begin with Nana, Miss Julie, Ulysses, Women, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf. Now, with some experience in life, I believe that it was fueled more by the true nature of men as arrogant, selfish, unfeeling swine in relationships with women rather than breaking down conventional idealization of women BS. If Circe is still alive, the continents would sink in the blue deep oceans under the weight of the pigs.

He liked such sharpness, for there was nothing in him that had any blood you might spill.

Circe," Apollo said, and it was the greatest chime of all. Every melody in the world belonged to him.

He liked the way the obsidian reflected his light, the way its slick surfaces caught fire as he passed. Of course, he did not consider how black it would be when he was gone. My father has never been able to imagine the world without himself in it.

But that was only a shape I had been poured into. I did not have to keep it.

I already had a feeling I was screwed, seeing I was in sacrificial virgin attire and in a corral. But now I was thinking I was way screwed. My attention focused back on her when she went on to say in a dire tone, “The Wife Hunt.

I did nothing to prepare. If I was not ready now, when would I be? I did not even walk up to the peak. He could come here, upon my yellow sands, and face me where I stood. "Father", I said, into the air, "I would speak with you.

I gave up a world for you." He glared at me, not giving me anything. I kept right on going. "I thought, perhaps, when I learned I had powers, I might be able to use them to go home," his eyes flashed but that was all I got so I kept on going, "but not for good. My father isn't dead." Another flash. "He's alive and at home and living maybe with a fake Circe. He'll know the difference, though, I KNOW it. He's out of his mind with worry, I know that too. He's wondering where I am and if I'm okay and how to get me back. I also know that. I know that and I know that my life was good. I loved my life. I loved my home. I loved my job. I had a lot of people who loved me that loved me back." I sucked in a breath and then whispered, "But as much as your world scared me, as much as our practices repulsed me, I still chose you." His torso jerked, it was almost imperceptible, but I caught it. I kept at him. "I gave up my world for you, Lahn. I sat at your side through things people in my world would find loathsome and I did it with my head held high. I even felt 'pride' that I could endure, that I could be a good queen to you.......Everything I did in this fucking place, even before I fell in love with you, was for...fucking...YOU.

Most people feared the darkness. Some people feared, more wisely, the things within the darkness. Gabriel feared both, and with good reason. He walked anyway. That had always been his way. He had a complicated history with the woodlands of the world. He'd met his share of the Cyclops and the Circes that lurked within. And the world never seemed to run out of monsters.

It is funny,’ she said, ‘That even after all this time, you still believe you should be rewarded, just because you have been obedient. I thought you would have learned that lesson in your father’s halls. None shrank and simpered as you did, and yet the great Helios stepped on you all the faster, because you were already crouched at his feet.’ She was leaning forward, her golden hair loose, embroidering the sheets around her. ‘Let me tell you the truth about Helios and all the rest. They do not care if you are good. They barely care if you are wicked. The only thing that makes them listen is power.

I was a golden witch, who had no past at all.

I will not sentence myself to such a living death.

I understood something then. My sister might be twice the goddess I was, but I was twice the witch. Her crumbling trash could not help me.

Little by little I began to listen better: to the sap moving in the plants, to the blood in my veins. I learned to understand my own intention, to prune and to add, to feel where the power gathered and speak the right words to draw it to its height. That was the moment I lived for, when it all came clear at last and the spell could sing with its pure note, for me and me alone.

My eyes flew open and when they did, his dark ones, not looking detached, not blank, not impassive, but heated and turned on and God, could it be? Totally freaking sexy.

Take me home, take me home, take me home, I need to go home. Please, please, whatever magic is out there for me, let it be at my command to take me home.

Still? I have never understood why helping mortals made Zeus so angry.” “Tell me,” he said, “who gives better offerings, a miserable man or a happy one?” “A happy one, of course.” “Wrong,” he said. “A happy man is too occupied with his life. He thinks he is beholden to no one. But make him shiver, kill his wife, cripple his child, then you will hear from him. He will starve his family for a month to buy you a pure-white yearling calf. If he can afford it, he will buy you a hundred.” “But surely,” I said, “you have to reward him eventually. Otherwise, he will stop offering.” “Oh, you would be surprised how long he will go on. But yes, in the end, it’s best to give him something. Then he will be happy again. And you can start over.” “So this is how Olympians spend their days. Thinking of ways to make men miserable.

Not every god need be the same, he said.

Odysseus, son of Laertes, the great traveller, prince of wiles and tricks and a thousand ways. He showed me his scars, and in return he let me pretend that I had none.

Oh dear,” Diandra muttered again as I looked down at the baby tiger in my arms. All I felt was the soft, thick fur of the cub, the pads of its cute, fluffy paws. All I saw was her proud nose and rounded ears and beautiful, pale blue eyes looking up at me with complete trust. Oh shit. I was in love.

-’Tell me’, he said, ‘who gives better offerings, a miserable man or a happy one’? -’A happy one, of course.’ -’Wrong. A happy man is too occupied with his life. He thinks he is beholden to no one. But make him shiver, kill his wife, cripple his child, then you will hear from him. He will starve his family for a month to buy yo a pure-white yearling calf. If he can afford it, he will buy you a hundred’. -’But surely, I said, you have to reward him eventually. Otherwise he will stop offering’. -’Oh, you would be surprised how long he will go on. But yes, in the end, it’s best to give him something. Then he will be happy again. And you can start over.

The Isle of Pines was Circe's isle, with white marble columns here and there in the dark, green, and pirates would be dueling with a flash of clashing swords and a flash of recklessly smiling white teeth. The Gulf, like the Caribbean, is haunted by the ghosts of the old buccaneers. Tampico, to Pete, wasn't the industrial shipping port his father knew. It had palaces and parrots of many colors, and winding white roads. It was an Arabian Nights city, with robed magicians wandering the streets, benign most of the time, but with gnarled hands like tree-roots that could weave spells. Manoel, his father, could have told him a different story, for Manoel had shipped once under sail, in the old days, before he settled down to a fisherman's life in Cabrillo. But Manoel didn't talk a great deal. Men talk to men, not to boys, and that was why Pete didn't learn as much as he might have from the sun-browned Portuguese who went out with the fishing fleets. He got his knowledge out of books, and strange books they were, and strange knowledge. ("Before I Wake...")

Then I whispered, “I love you, my Lahn,” and heard the swift hiss of his intake of breath. Then he buried his face in my neck and whispered back, “Loot kay hansahnalay na, my Circe.” And I love you, my Circe.

The stories abounded, both recounting these cross-continental journeys and perhaps inspiring them – how Hellenic Jason gathered his Argonauts together (including Augeas, whose vast stables Herakles would be forced to clean) for adventure and profit, how he stopped off along the Bosphorus and discovered the land of the rising sun before other Greek heroes headed to Asia in search of Helen, Troy and glory. In the Homeric epics we hear of Jason travelling east where he tangles with Medea of Colchis, her aunt Circe and the feisty Amazon tribe. Lured by the promise of gold (early and prodigious metalworking did indeed take place in the region – perhaps sparking the Greek idea that the East was ‘rich in gold’) and then detained by the potions and poisons of Princess Medea, Jason succeeded in penetrating the Caucasus – a land which, in the Greek mind, wept with both peril and promise. It was here that Prometheus was chained to a rock with iron rivets for daring to steal fire from the gods. Archaeology east of Istanbul demonstrates how myth grazes history.

They do not care if you are good. They barely care if you are wicked. The only thing that makes them listen is power.

This was how mortals found fame, I thought. Through practice and diligence, tending their skills like gardens until they glowed beneath the sun.

THE HALCYON DAYS: Mackerel! Live us again. Hurray! (THEY CHEER) BLOOM: (HOBBLEDEHOY, WARMGLOVED, MAMMAMUFFLERED, STARRED WITH SPENT SNOWBALLS, STRUGGLES TO RISE) Again! I feel sixteen! What a lark! Let's ring all the bells in Montague street. (HE CHEERS FEEBLY) Hurray for the High School! THE ECHO: Fool!

Well? What do you have to say to me? You threw me to the crows, but it turns out I prefer them to you.