Mythology Quotes - Page 6

It is through your experience you find out who you really are and who you are is from finding your own experience who really defines you.

Do you see those dull stars?" She outlined the formation with her finger."A pentagram," whispered Scott."Yes, but not just any pentagram. Take a look through the telescope."Scott approached the eyepiece."They're not stars!" "What do they look like?" asked Jenn.Scott studied each of the figures."It can't be," he stuttered. "Planets?" "Exactly what I thought." "But how? They're completely off their orbits.""The earth's off its axis." "Mount Etna erupted." "Greece had a earthquake.""The whole universe has gone mad!" Scott exclaimed. "And my friends have supernatural powers," said Jenn.

Deeply entrenched fantasies and persistent, most cherished illusions can at least partly be explained as ‘bugs’ or ‘viruses’ in, or ‘mis-activations’ of, our sophisticated and highly sensitive intellectual software, which is driven but also easily disrupted by, and addicted to, our restless and insatiable need for meaning, order, control, and reassurance.

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

Aerric’s skill as a fighter, along with the fact that he could not be killed, made him the ultimate weapon. Morrigan and Brighid had used the hide of a phoenix and a bit of Pandra’s dragon blood to create him.

Wherever the poetry of myth is interpreted as biography, history or science, it is killed.

As the Promethean fire which banished Darkness, so Knowledge bears the Power and the Light.

linear brains can't curve a thought.

It's a pook, a messenger...spy is more like it," Kern explained sourly. "This one will tattle, and I'll never hear the end of it when I go back." An eyebrow lifted. "Consorting with a human.

Most civilizations had more fiction than they did real history.

How foolish of me to have disregarded you, dear goddess. I won’t make that mistake again.

Life cannot find reasons to sustain it, cannot be a source of decent mutual regard, unless each of us resolves to breathe such qualities into it.

A milli-Helen is enough beauty to launch exactly one ship

If there's one thing I've learned in my eighteen life-cycles, it's that the most special moments--the most magical pockets of out existence--are always going to be the parts of us that the rest of the world won't understand.

Mythology didn't cease to exist and be useful to Pagans when we gained digital watch technology.

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.

My body lies within the strings and myths of reality with a purpose of evolution and adapted by gravity but for my conscious's matrix is without any doubt has adapted to other's consciousness and that is how we all adapt to survival.

Paris and HelenHe called her: golden dawnShe called him: the wind whistlesHe called her: heart of the skyShe called him: message bringerHe called her: mother of pearl barley woman, rice provider, millet basket, corn maid, flax princess, all-maker, weefShe called him: fawn, roebuck, stag, courage, thunderman, all-in-green, mountain strider keeper of forests, my-love-ridesHe called her: the tree isShe called him: bird dancingHe called her: who stands, has stood, will always standShe called him: arriverHe called her: the heart and the womb are similarShe called him: arrow in my heart.

Find the Seventh Sister,And the girl shall be,Your spiritual guardian,For eternity.

But who names a starship the Icarus? What kind of man possess that much hubris, that he dares it to fall?

micel walcan wolde we do from that daeg micel walcan in the great holt the brunnesweald but though we walced for wices months years though this holt becum ham to me for so long still we did not see efen a small part of it so great was this deop eald wud. so great was it that many things dwelt there what was not cnawan to man but only in tales and in dreams. wihts for sure the boar the wulf the fox efen the bera it was saed by sum made this holt their ham. col beorners and out laws was in here as they was in all wuds but deop deoper efen than this was the eald wihts what was in angland before menhere i is meanan the aelfs and the dweorgs and ents who is of the holt who is the treows them selfs. my grandfather he telt me he had seen an aelf at dusc one daeg he seen it flittan betweon stoccs of treows thynne it was and grene and its eages was great and blaec and had no loc of man in them. well he was blithe to lif after that for oft it is saed that to see an aelf is to die for they sceots their aelf straels at thu and aelfscot is a slow death

When a judge walks into the room, and everybody stands up, you’re not standing up to that guy, you’re standing up to the robe that he’s wearing and the role that he’s going to play. What makes him worthy of that role is his integrity, as a representative of the principles of that role, and not some group of prejudices of his own. So what you’re standing up to is a mythological character. I imagine some kings and queens are the most stupid, absurd, banal people you could run into, probably interested only in horses and women, you know. But you’re not responding to them as personalities, you’re responding to them in their mythological roles. When someone becomes a judge, or President of the United States, the man is no longer that man, he’s the representative of an eternal office; he has to sacrifice his personal desires and even life possibilities to the role that he now signifies.

The life of hero is the tale of a person overcoming personal hardship and obstacles while striving to achieve an exultant victory that voices repressed citizens’ ecstatic thoughts and dreams.

I am death; I am this blood, these ravaged lands, and this wanton destruction. – Panchali Draupadi

He saw her eyes bright as stars; he saw her lips, and was not satisfied with only seeing them.

Noble though it may be, our way of life is nothing but servitude. It does not take long for servitude to turn to subjugation.– Shikandin Draupada

Len’s arm brushed against mine. I pulled the cream and gold comforter overmy shoulders and cuddled closer, wishing I could stay in bed all day and snuggle.But Cupid’s minions didn’t get sick days or holidays or time off for good behavior.Instead, I got a demanding boss, no pay, and chained to a man-whore till death dous part.I’d complain, but I didn’t think Cupid’s minions had a union.

Women treat us [men] like humanity treats gods – they worship us and keep bothering us to do something.

Swords can’t solve every problem.

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?

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.

He whispered as he kissed down her neck. “I would love nothing more than to take you right here on the counter, Fire Angel, but if I’m late to meet with your grandmothers, they might just decide to throw my ass on a funeral pyre and I wouldn’t be back for three days.

The Bird of Hermes is my name, eating my wings to make me tame.

Kill them. Kill them all. Remind the world what it means to be Arya. Remind the world what it is to walk with the gods. – Syoddhan Kauravya

Unlike the ancients, modern man does not see Mother Earth as some kind of goddess like Gaia, the ancestral mother of all life in Greek mythology. He has de–mythicized her, reduced her to an object, a specimen, to be studied by scientists and exploited by corporations for profit.

Hades cracked his knuckles on each hand, and the noise was like gunpowder caps exploding in the silence. "First dish duty," he mumbled to himself, "now possessed cowboys. This just isn't my night.

Don't feel bad, I'm usually about to die.

Little did they suspect that the years would end by wearing away the disharmony.Little did they suspect that La Mancha and Montiel and the knight's frail figure would be, for the future, no less poetic than Sinbad's haunts or Ariosto's vast geographies.For myth is at the beginning of literature, and also at its end.

I said hello to the poodle.

The battlefield is symbolic of the field of life, where every creature lives on the death of another. A realization of the inevitable guilt of life may so sicken the heart, that like Hamlet, or like Arjuna, one may refuse to go on with it. On the other hand, like most of the rest of us, one may invent a false finally unjustified image of oneself as an exceptional phenomenon in the world--not guilty as others are, but justified in one's inevitable sinning, because one represents the good. Such self-righteousness leads to a misunderstanding, not only of oneself, but of the nature of both Man and the Cosmos. The goal of the myth is to dispel the need for such life-ignorance by affecting a reconciliation of the individual consciousness with the universal will, and this is affected through a realization of the true relationship of the passing phenomena of time to the imperishable life that lives and dies in all.

I would venture to say that approaching the Christian Story from this direction, it has long been my feeling (a joyous feeling) that God redeemed the corrupt makingcreatures, men, in a way fitting to this aspect, as to others, of their strange nature. The Gospels contain a fairy-story, or a story of a larger kind which embraces all the essence of fairy-stories. They contain many marvels—peculiarly artistic, beautiful, and moving: ‘mythical’ in their perfect, self-contained significance; and among the marvels is the greatest and most complete conceivable eucatastrophe. But this story has entered History and the primary world; the desire and aspiration of sub-creation has been raised to the fulfillment of Creation. The Birth of Christ is the eucatastrophe of Man’s history. The Resurrection is the eucatastrophe of the story of the Incarnation. This story begins and ends in joy. It has pre-eminently the ‘inner consistency of reality’. There is no tale ever told that men would rather find was true, and none which so many sceptical men have accepted as true on its own merits. For the Art of it has the supremely convincing tone of Primary Art, that is, of Creation. To reject it leads either to sadness or to wrath.

There is an Iroquois myth that describes a choice the nation was once forced to make. The myth has various forms. This is the simplest version. A council of the tribes was called to decide where to move on for the next hunting season. What the council had not known, however, was that the place they eventually chose was a place inhabited by wolves. Accordingly, the Iroquois became subject to repeated attacks, during which the wolves gradually whittled down their numbers. They were faced with a choice: to move somewhere else or to kill the wolves. The latter option, they realized, would diminish them. It would make them the sort of people they did not want to be. And so they moved on. To avoid repetition of their earlier mistake, they decided that in all future council meetings someone should be appointed to represent the wolf. Their contribution would be invited with the question, ‘Who speaks for wolf?

The business of stories is not enchantment. The business of stories is not escape. The business of stories is waking up.

The sun, the moon, the ocean– these were all the children of Ouranos and Gaia. They had hundreds more, and they were the grandparents of the gods and of human beings. Ouranos didn’t make any of this out of nothing, and neither did God. There had to be a wife.

There are different kinds of love you experience in life. Loving someone differently doesn't mean loving a person less than you love someone else. Love is love.

Narcissistic personality disorder is named for Narcissus, from Greek mythology, who fell in love with his own reflection. Freud used the term to describe persons who were self-absorbed, and psychoanalysts have focused on the narcissist's need to bolster his or her self-esteem through grandiose fantasy, exaggerated ambition, exhibitionism, and feelings of entitlement.

We have given to thee, Adam, no fixed seat, no form of thy own, no gift peculiarly thine, that thou mayest feel as thine own, have as thine own, possess as thine own, the seat, the form, the gifts which thou thyself shalt desire. A limited nature in other creatures is confined within the laws written down by Us. In conformity with thy free judgment, in whose hands I have placed thee, thou art confined by no bounds; and thou will fix the limits of nature for thyself. I have placed thee at the centre of the world, that from there thou mayest more conveniently look around and see whatsoever is in the world. Neither heavenly nor earthly, neither mortal nor immortal have We made thee. Thou, like a judge appointed for being honourable, art the molder and maker of thyself.

I had to find Mr. Brentwood. And I had to save him. Zeus, Inc. had saved the world 50 years ago when we had depleted our energy resources. The very same Zeus, Inc. that now powered a majority of the known world. And that power had come from the man himself. Without him? We would all be plunged into total darkness, knocked back to the literal dark ages. Chaos could and probably would ensue.

Time slipped and slid around him, unanchored by any fact that could be verified. Perhaps it did not matter. 'Where does our story take place, and when?' asked Cocteau at the start of Orphée. 'It's the privilege of legends to be ageless. Comme il vous plaira. As you please.

If the students were taught about shuttle flights, plate tectonics and submarine volcanoes, they were also immersed in the traditional myths of their culture—the ancient story, for example, of how the island of Pohnpei had been built under the direction of a mystical octopus, Lidakika. (I was fascinated by this, for it was the only cephalopod creation myth I had ever heard.

...The man who stood before her was taller and stranger than anyone she had ever encountered. His unkempt hair was a long dark brown, partially braided and twisted around twigs, the tips of his pointed ears poking between strands. His bare chest made her flush, but it was completely covered in green inked tattoos. Leather breeches creaked when he shifted. He held his hand out to her, uncurling fingers with long nails. "Aislin," he repeated, his voice gruff and purring, "do not be frightened. I have been waiting so long for you.

in America we have people from all kinds of backgrounds, all in a cluster, together, and consequently law has become very important in this country. Lawyers and law are what hold us together. There is no ethos.

You’re the girl that I have been wanting. You’re the girl that I could see myself with forever. And most importantly, you’re the girl that I’ve fallen in love with.

It was hope that brought me love.

There is a small wooden viewing tower, and pamphlets from the State of Ohio, but they focus on facts—for instance, the Serpent Mound is as long as four football fields—not on meaning. In The Sacred Hoop, Paula Gunn Allen, a Native poet, mythologist, and scholar, explains that Serpent Woman was one of the names of the quintessential original spirit “that pervades everything, that is capable of powerful song and radiant movement, and that moves in and out of the mind…she is both Mother and Father to all people and all creatures. She is the only creator of thought, and thought precedes creation.” In Western mythology, she might be compared to Medusa, the serpent-haired Greek goddess whose name means Knowing Woman or Protectress. She once was all-powerful—until patriarchy came along in the form of a mythic young man who chopped off her head. He was told to do this by Athena, who sprang full-blown from the mind of her father, Zeus—a goddess thought up by patriarchy and therefore motherless. There is history in what is dismissed as prehistory.

Oh. Now you are not so afraid, then?"Kitty opened her mouth, indignant. "I was not afraid before! I was... shocked. How many times do you see your orphanage roommate be able to turn someone into stone?""Every time I look in the mirror.

I quickly dropped my hands and changed the subject. "So those two who visited me the other night. Who were they?" I asked.He smiled, knowingly. "Ares and Aphrodite."Of course, I thought. In fact, I think I had already sort of figured that out. Although in my mind they were still Mr. Scowly Face and Miss Perfect Bitch. I found those the names I had given them much more appropriate

Lifting his head, he whispered against her wet, throbbing lips, “Too much?”tWasn’t that sweet,tConsider even.tBut oh, hell no.tShe gasped, “Not enough.

Instantly, the pair fell to groping one other as if each had puff the magic dragon at a rock concert in Woodstock.

The ultimate truth is mystical truth, the ultimate reality is sacred chaos.