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Quote by sir kristian goldmund aumann

“Heroes Heroes kill their enemies Theatre war Usually With the sword With the rifle With the bomb With words With bare hands With hatred in their eyes Dazzled Inside From hatred furrowed As machines Stereotype Inside Cold steel Inside True Heroes Counter Their enemies inside Delete the flames The delusions of The unrestrained blaze Without the sword Without the gun Without the bomb Without words Without using bare hands To kill people”

Quote by sir kristian goldmund aumann

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sir kristian goldmund aumann

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“If metaphors require an underlying cultural framework, then the heiroglyphhic language of the gods cannot be a merely primitive stage of human consciousness: it needs the presence of both the symbolic language of heroes and the epistolary language of me as its starting point. Thus Vico is not speaking of a linear development from a metaphorical language to a more conventional language, but of a continual, cyclical activity. The language of the gods is a heap of unrelated synedoches and metonymies…”

LanguageMetaphorSymbolsHeroesGodsLinguisticsSignsSemiotics
Book:Semiotics and the Philosophy of Language
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“It wasn’t like this in the stories. In the old tales, when a young man went forth to have adventures, he endured his trials and came forth triumphant. He became a leader, or acquired a magical skill, or at the very least wed a princess. Maybe all three. There was never any question, not even in the darkest moment, that the hero would conquer both his enemies and his self-doubt. Perhaps that was why I had been angry with Simon, because I wanted the ending of his story to be the good one he deserved.”

HeroHeroesFairytalesHappy EndingFolktalesDaughter Of The Forest
Book:Daughter of the Forest
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“Miss Bridgerton,” he said, “the devil himself couldn’t scare you.” She forced her eyes to meet his. “That’s not a compliment, is it?” He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a feather-light kiss across her knuckles. “You’ll have to figure that out for yourself,” he murmured. To all who observed, he was the soul of propriety, but Hyacinth caught the daring gleam in his eye, and she felt the breath leave her body as tingles of electricity rushed across her skin. Her lips parted, but she had nothing to say, not a single word. There was nothing but air, and even that seemed in short supply. And then he straightened as if nothing had happened and said, “Do let me know what you decide.” She just stared at him. “About the compliment,” he added. “I am sure you will wish to let me know how I feel about you.” Her mouth fell open. He smiled. Broadly. “Speechless, even. I’m to be commended.” “You—” “No. No,” he said, lifting one hand in the air and pointing toward her as if what he really wanted to do was place his finger on her lips and shush her. “Don’t ruin it. The moment is too rare.”

HumorRomanceBridgerton
Book:It's in his kiss
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