All Quotes By Tag: Mythology

“Alles wird man ja satt, des schlafes sogar, und der liebe,Auch des süßen gesangs, und bewunderten reigentanzes:Welche doch mehr anreizen die sehnsuchtsvolle begierde,Als der krieg; doch die Troer sind niemals satt des gefechts! (Ilias; 13. Gesang V. 636-640)”

“Сказал Феникс:- Ты учил нас, Хирон, что, стоя над бездной, надо бесстрашно заглядывать в ее глубь и приветствовать жизнь, что жизнь – это радость подвига. Ты учил нас, что, когда ходишь над самой черной бездной по самому краю, надо смотреть в лазурь. Теперь и ты, Хирон, бессмертный, стоишь, как и мы, герои, на краю бездны. Куда же ты смотришь?И ответил Хирон:- Я бессмертен, но подвержен страданию смертных. Когда чаша страданий так переполнена, что перетекает через край и в ней тонет мысль, тогда отдают эту чашу обратно жизни. Всякому страданию дано переходить в радость. Одним страданием не живут.Смутили слова Хирона его друзей, но никто еще не понял, что задумал мудрый кентавр. Ведь он был все-таки бессмертен.- Скажи, что ты знаешь об этом, Геракл? – спросил Феникс полубога, сына Зевса.Ответил Геракл:- Я не умею знать – я делаю. Я не заглядываю в бездну – я спускаюсь в нее, чтобы вынести оттуда Ужас бездны на свет дня. Я не умею ни перед чем отступать и хожу по любому краю.Сказал тихо Хирон:- Ты найдешь свой край, Геракл. Но слова твои меня радуют.Тогда спросил Феникс Киклопа:- Почему ты молчишь, Телем? И ответил Телем:- Кто потерял небо, для того и темная земная бездна становится небом. Уже нет для меня края и глубины бездны, и мне некуда заглядывать. Я сам в бездне. Не придешь ли ты и за мной, Геракл?Ответил Геракл:- Приду.”

“И явился Зевс Асклепию таким, каким являлся титанам в битве: огромный, со страшилищем-эгидой на груди и перуном в руке, средь громов и молний. Притихло все живое в лесах и горах Пелиона, укрываясь от блеска и грохота громовых ударов.А мальчик-бог сказал:- Мне не страшно. Не сжег ты меня блеском своей славы. Ты только бог и не больше. А мир огромно-большой, и мысль Хирона больше тебя, владыки Олимпа.Удивился Молниевержец, свергающий в тартар титанов, отваге мальчика-бога.”

“Tell me something. Do you believe in God?’Snow darted an apprehensive glance in my direction. ‘What? Who still believes nowadays?”It isn’t that simple. I don’t mean the traditional God of Earth religion. I’m no expert in the history of religions, and perhaps this is nothing new–do you happen to know if there was ever a belief in an…imperfect God?”What do you mean by imperfect?’ Snow frowned. ‘In a way all the gods of the old religions were imperfect, considered that their attributes were amplified human ones. The God of the Old Testament, for instance, required humble submission and sacrifices, and and was jealous of other gods. The Greek gods had fits of sulks and family quarrels, and they were just as imperfect as mortals…”No,’ I interrupted. ‘I’m not thinking of a god whose imperfection arises out of the candor of his human creators, but one whose imperfection represents his essential characteristic: a god limited in his omniscience and power, fallible, incapable of foreseeing the consequences of his acts, and creating things that lead to horror. He is a…sick god, whose ambitions exceed his powers and who does not realize it at first. A god who has created clocks, but not the time they measure. He has created systems or mechanisms that serves specific ends but have now overstepped and betrayed them. And he has created eternity, which was to have measured his power, and which measures his unending defeat.’Snow hesitated, but his attitude no longer showed any of the wary reserve of recent weeks:’There was Manicheanism…”Nothing at all to do with the principles of Good and Evil,’ I broke in immediately. ‘This god has no existence outside of matter. He would like to free himself from matter, but he cannot…’Snow pondered for a while:’I don’t know of any religion that answers your description. That kind of religion has never been…necessary. If i understand you, and I’m afraid I do, what you have in mind is an evolving god, who develops in the course of time, grows, and keeps increasing in power while remaining aware of his powerlessness. For your god, the divine condition is a situation without a goal. And understanding that, he despairs. But isn’t this despairing god of yours mankind, Kelvin? Is it man you are talking about, and that is a fallacy, not just philosophically but also mystically speaking.’I kept on:’No, it’s nothing to do with man. man may correspond to my provisional definition from some point of view, but that is because the definition has a lot of gaps. Man does not create gods, in spite of appearances. The times, the age, impose them on him. Man can serve is age or rebel against it, but the target of his cooperation or rebellion comes to him from outside. If there was only a since human being in existence, he would apparently be able to attempt the experiment of creating his own goals in complete freedom–apparently, because a man not brought up among other human beings cannot become a man. And the being–the being I have in mind–cannot exist in the plural, you see? …Perhaps he has already been born somewhere, in some corner of the galaxy, and soon he will have some childish enthusiasm that will set him putting out one star and lighting another. We will notice him after a while…”We already have,’ Snow said sarcastically. ‘Novas and supernovas. According to you they are candles on his altar.”If you’re going to take what I say literally…’…Snow asked abruptly:’What gave you this idea of an imperfect god?”I don’t know. It seems quite feasible to me. That is the only god I could imagine believing in, a god whose passion is not a redemption, who saves nothing, fulfills no purpose–a god who simply is.”

“We must have a new mythology, but it must place itself at the service of ideas, it must become a mythology of reason. Mythology must become philosophical, so that the people may become rational, and philosophy must become mythological, so that philosophers may become sensible. If we do not give ideas a form that is aesthetic, i.e., mythological, they will hold no interest for people.”

“Izzi: Remember Moses Morales? Tom Verde: Who? Izzi: The Mayan guide I told you about. Tom Verde: From your trip. Izzi: Yeah. The last night I was with him, he told me about his father, who had died. Well Moses wouldn’t believe it. Tom Verde: Izzi… Izzi: [embraces Tom] No, no. Listen, listen. He said that if they dug his father’s body up, it would be gone. They planted a seed over his grave. The seed became a tree. Moses said his father became a part of that tree. He grew into the wood, into the bloom. And when a sparrow ate the tree’s fruit, his father flew with the birds. He said… death was his father’s road to awe. That’s what he called it. The road to awe. Now, I’ve been trying to write the last chapter and I haven’t been able to get that out of my head! Tom Verde: Why are you telling me this? Izzi: I’m not afraid anymore, Tommy.”

“Confidence is like a dragon where, for every head cut off, two more heads grow back.”

“You become mature when you become the authority of your own life.”

“I said hello to the poodle.”

“Can you surf really well, then?”I looked at Grover, who was trying hard not to laugh.”Jeez, Nico,” I said. “I’ve never really tried.”He went on asking questions. Did I fight a lot with Thalia, since she was a daughter of Zeus? (I didn’t answer that one.) If Annabeth’s mother was Athena, the goddess of wisdom, then why didn’t Annabeth know better than to fall off a cliff? (I tried not to strangle Nico for asking that one.) Was Annabeth my girlfriend? (At this point, I was ready to stick the kid in a meat-flavored sack and throw him to the wolves.)”

“Don’t feel bad, I’m usually about to die.”

“Vane grabbed me. “DuLac, let’s chat.”Chat. British-speak for “Stand still while I yell at you.”

“Do you think we can be friends?” I asked.He stared up at the ceiling. “Probably not, but we can pretend.”

“I have done it,” she says. At first I do not understand. But then I see the tomb, and the marks she has made on the stone. A C H I L L E S, it reads. And beside it, P A T R O C L U S.”Go,” she says. “He waits for you.”In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.”

“Love cannot live where there is no trust.”