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Quote by Joseph Campbell

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Thou Art That: Transforming Religious Metaphor

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Joseph Campbell
Joseph Campbell

Joseph Campbell was an American writer, scholar, and mythologist, renowned for his studies of world mythology. His work, 'The Hero with a Thousand Faces', has had a profound impact on modern culture, widely used in literature, film, and psychology fields. more

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“It only takes about fifteen minutes for me to get totally lost. We’re somewhere in the outskirts of the property, but I’ve pushed us past the tree line too far to remember which way we came from. But I’m not going to admit it to her. I wrack my brain for any of Lady Artemis’s navigation skills. Unfortunately, almost all of them rely on the nighttime constellations, and I am not spending six hours out here with Atalanta.”

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Book:Outrun the Wind
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“Why do you try to get others to notice you, Adimar, when I’m the one who matters?” She stood up. “I’m the one who can fund your way to the top. I’ll help you overthrow the Lakotas and the Ghiblas. No more working for the Muslims. Christians won’t save you from other Christians. Your accounts are paid and closed.” “What are you?” “Your fucking guardian angel. Whatever. Now sit down. We need to talk.” As if something had clicked in his mind, “Get the fuck out of my apartment.” This was just a magic trick. A show. A test of loyalty. She cocked her head. “Really? I just handed you what you want on a silver platter and you’re kicking me out?” He raised his gun once more, coming to his senses. “Dude, that’s not going to work on me. Let me be upfront. I’m immortal.” “You’re no angel. Angels don’t help men like me.”

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Book:The Pre-programming
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“Above, a vivid painting hung over the fireplace. Inside its frame, a woman was transforming into a tree. The lower half of her body was bark and roots, plunging into soil, while her waist and chest arched upwards and her outstretched hands reached for the sky. The nymph's dark hair was a knotted mass of branches around her head, sprouting bright green leaves. It was the myth of Daphne---the nymph who begged the river god to save her from Apollo and was turned into a laurel tree. "It must be a terrible thing to lose," Hawthorne said, making her jump. He looked up from where he crouched near the fire: to the woman in the frame. His left forearm was streaked with black ash. "What's a terrible thing to lose?" Hawthorne's eyes glittered as he studied the nymph. "Your humanity." "But it was her choice," said Emeline, feeling defensive of Daphne. If the river god hadn't turned her into a laurel, she would have fallen prey to Apollo. "She asked to be saved." Firelight flickered over Hawthorne's face as his gray-eyed gaze caught hers and held it. "Saved," he murmured, considering this. "Is that really what the river god did? As a tree, her life is forfeit. She'll never be human again. She'll never laugh or sing, ponder or love, again. Don't you think she would have preferred the river god defeat Apollo, or at the very least warn him away, instead of taking something so precious from her?”

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Book:Edgewood
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