Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Jodi Picoult

Quote by Jodi Picoult

“If the greatest playwright of all time was a hoax, wouldn't that have been exposed in the last, oh, four hundred years?" Darnell asked. "I think a hoax can look like history," Melina replied, "if you mistake mythology for truth.”

Quote by Jodi Picoult

Work

By Any Other Name

Browse quotes and source details for this work. more

Author

Jodi Picoult
Jodi Picoult

Jodi Picoult is an American best-selling author known for her emotionally rich and engaging novels. Her works often revolve around family, legal, and moral dilemmas, and are highly appreciated by readers. more

You May Also Like

“See that little red dot up there? That’s Ma’adim." Ištar followed his gaze. "All the damage we caused with our callousness—the air pollution, the ground pollution, and the water pollution. We were so arrogant. How we treated our planet. Never thinking about the future. It was supposed to fix everything. You know that device that killed our planet? I helped design the energy lattice," Enki whispered. "To fix our planet." Ištar frowned. "The Planet-Killer?" Enki nodded, eyes never leaving the sky. "We called it the Tablet of Destinies. Poetic, maybe. It was a terraforming system—climate regulation, tectonic stability, atmospheric tuning. Designed to bring life." "So what went wrong?" "Kingu,”

“The image of a man deliberately constraining his freedom in order to achieve a greater goal resonates powerfully through the ages. We may not face singing sirens on a remote isle, but every person harbors their own sirens—alluring distractions and destructive temptations. Like Odysseus, we are strapped to a journey, and along the way we will inevitably hear those calls.”

“This first act of the new gods took place in three colours, the first that humans see and name, black, white and red. The Gap was black, many shades of black, thick and fine, glossy and tenebrous. The great snowman was white, except where his own parts cast white-violet shadows, in the pits of his arms, in his monstrous nostrils, under his knees. The new gods hacked and laughed. Blood spurted from the wounds they made, poured from his neck over his shoulders, slid like a hot garment over his chest and flanks, flowed, flowed, filled the glass ball with running crimson, and drowned the world. It was unquenchable, it was the life that had been in him, under the clay and ice, it drained away into death.”

“When we look back at that text [the Bible], it is a text that speaks of man as superior to nature, man’s mastery over nature as being what was given to him. Compare that with the words of Chief Seattle. This is the difference between mythology as a petrifact, something that has dried up, is dead, and is not working, and mythology as something that is working. When the mythology is alive, you don’t have to tell anybody what it means. It’s like looking at a picture that’s really talking to you. It gets to you.”