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Z Quotes

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All Z Quotes

“Zeus most glorious and most great, Thundercloud, throned in the heavens! Let not the sun go down and the darkness come, until I cast down headlong the citadel of Priam in flames, and burn his gates with blazing fire, and tear to rags the shirt upon Hectors breast! May many of his men fall about him prone in the dust and bite the earth!”

“Zeus rolled his eyes. "A dimwitted god, apparently. But yes. With the consensus of the entire Council, I can make you immortal. Then I will have to put up with you forever." "Hmm," Ares mused. "That means I can smash him to a pulp as often as I want, and he'll just keep coming back for more. I like this idea." "I approve as well," Athena said, though she was looking at Annabeth. I glanced back. Annabeth was trying not to meet my eyes. Her face was pale. I flashed back to two years ago, when I'd thought she was going to take the pledge to Artemis and become a Hunter. I'd been on the edge of a panic attack, thinking that I'd lose her. Now, she looked pretty much the same way. I thought about the Three Fates, and the way I'd seen my life flash by. I could avoid all that. No aging, no death, no body in the grave. I could be a teenager forever, in top condition, powerful, and immortal, serving my father. I could have power and eternal life. Who could refuse that? Then I looked at Annabeth again. I thought about my friends from camp: Charles Beckendorf, Michael Yew, Silena Beauregard, so many others who were now dead. I thought about Ethan Nakamura and Luke. And I knew what to do. "No," I said. The Council was silent. The gods frowned at each other like they must have misheard. "No?" Zeus said. "You are . . . turning down our generous gift?" There was a dangerous edge to his voice, like a thunderstorm about to erupt. "I'm honored and everything," I said. "Don't get me wrong. It's just . . . I've got a lot of life left to live. I'd hate to peak in my sophomore year." The gods were glaring at me, but Annabeth had her hands over her mouth. Her eyes were shining. And that kind of made up for it.”

“Zeus wanted something that would bring healing to the people who had survived the war. In my mind, there was nothing more healing to the soul than the written word, and music, and dance, and comedy, and inspiration. So that is why I decided to create." She looked them each in the eye. "I decided to create you. Each of you would bring joy through your own unique talents, while also singing Zeus's praises for saving the world from the Titans.”

“Zev nodded. He smiled up at Tatijana as she came to his side. “It’s good to see you,” he greeted her. “Thanks for saving us out there.” She smiled back at him and sank down into the grass, taking his arm to inspect the damage. “It’s getting to be a habit. We can’t have anyone killing you, Zev. My sister wouldn’t be too pleased. She’s hoping to get another dance with you sometime.” “She probably doesn’t remember my name,” Zev said. “But it’s kind of you to say so.” Tatijana laughed. “Silly man. Your name is probably the only one she does remember. She’s not very social.” Fen gave a small derisive snort. “The lengths you go to, getting yourself hurt just for a little female sympathy. You know, Tatijana, he really is far faster than he lets on and he could have prevented the knife from slicing him open. He was just hoping your sister would show up and kiss it all better.” Zev sent him a warning glare. “I’m still armed to the teeth, you bastard.”

“Zeytin, varoluşundan günümüze kadar en yüce duyguların tercümanı ve en kıymetlilerimizden oldu. Uzlaşamadıklarımıza dost eli, ağzımızın tadı, meyvelerini toplarken nasır tutan ellere merhem… Öyleyse hediye alıp verme zamanı gelince siz de tanrıça Athena gibi bilge olun ve sevdiğiniz herkesle zeytin ağacının nimetlerini paylaşın. Unutmayın! Zeytin besler, her yönüyle güzellik katar ve korur. Andolsun İnsanın Asırlık Dostuna!”

“Zhian, is that you? I focus the words on the clay jar above Darian. The reply comes like a clap of thunder GET ME OUT OF HERE! I stumble at the force of his words, and Darian steps forward to catch me. “Wine catching up to you?” he asks, grinning. I just nod distractedly, stiffening a little when his hands slide up my arms. Zhian, I’m here to help you. GET ME OUT NOW! Darian’s hands are far too familiar, one on my back now, the other cupping my jaw. His touch is repulsive, his heartbeat erratic and too fast. I feel assaulted on all sides: by Zhian’s shouting, by the jinn clamoring, by Darian’s desire. “You really are quite pretty,” he says, his eyes dropping to my lips. “I’ve shown you something secret. Now what are you going to show me?” Steeling myself, I grasp his coat and step forward, backing him into the shelves, and around him bottles shake dangerously. “Easy,” he cautions, but his eyes brighten greedily. Our faces are just inches apart, his eyes locked on mine. “You’re a feisty one. I knew it the moment I saw you. No wonder Rahzad likes to keep you close.” “What about the princess?” I murmur, working a hand behind him as if to thread my fingers in his oiled hair. “Caspida hardly appreciates the finer pleasures in life. I, on the other hand, have a king’s appetite.” He kisses me forcefully, stepping away from the wall, and I’m barely able to grab Zhian’s jar before it’s out of reach. No bigger than my hand, it’s simple to let it slip down my sleeve. The jinn prince rages inside, but I ignore him and focus on the human trying to force his tongue down my throat. I can feel myself hovering on the very edge of the lamp’s boundary. Ripples of smoke race under my skin as I strain to keep from shifting, the effort bringing tears to my eyes. I shove Darian hard, and he shouts as he slams into the wall of bottled jinn. A few topple from their shelves, and panic springs into his eyes as he struggles to catch them all. “Bleeding gods, you whore!” he growls. “Are you mad?” “My master is probably looking for me,” I gasp. “I should go.” I turn and flee the room, letting out a soft, relieved cry as the lamp’s pull on me slackens. Darian pursues too quickly for me to shift into a more speedy form. Zhian’s jar rattling in my sleeve, I hurry through the dark crypt and up the stairs, the prince close on my heels. “Stop!” he shouts. “Or I’ll have you whipped!” Sister! Zhian cries. Set me free and I will devour the wretch!”

“Zhian rages about a bit longer, cracking trees and whipping up whirlwinds of dust. Then, at last, he assembles himself, taking the form of an enormous, human-like figure, nine feet tall with hooves and horns. It’s one of his favorite forms, modeled closely after his father. He wears only a leopard-skin loincloth, and his chest swells with muscle and pride. In his hands is a long chain, from which dangles a spiked morning star. Curl-of-the-Tiger’s-Tail, he purrs, his black eyes glittering. Smoke-on-the-Wind. Girl-Who-Gives-the-Stars-Away. You have chosen a beautiful form. Subtle, but desirable.”

“Zhu Yan stood there, looking at the heads rolling all over the floor, then at the bridegroom whose head was in a different place, suddenly she felt her body shivering. “Why… why?” She looked at Shi Ying and asked with a trembling voice, “Why killing them?” “They have all become like this, let them live one more day, it means to let them suffer one more day, why not just let them die?”

“Zhu Yan was laying on the golden tent with the book in front of her, turning page after page, and discovered that each page contained a different, subtle and profound cultivation method; from the basic introduction to the transformation of the environment, to more advanced and darker techniques, the essence was extracted and explained in simple terms. Some complicated and obscure places were also matched with drawings for an easier understanding. It was obviously written in response to her training level. “This meditating little person is well drawn… the bun is well combed.” She lifted her cheeks, stared at the picture, and couldn’t help but muttered, “Huh? Is this the Jade Bone painted on it? Does it look like me?” She poked her finger at the hairpin on the little person’s head and grinned: “It looks like it.”

“Zhuangzi is especially insightful about the human pretension to know. The Zhuangzi tells a story about a frog who lives in caved-in well. Because he is the lord of this little world of his, king of the pollywogs, he is very proud of himself. But he doesn't know how small his world is until a turtle comes and tells him about the vastness of the sea. We human beings are like the frog, not realizing how little our worlds are.”

“Zhuangzi might suggest, the true folly is not that they are greedy, but rather that they are not greedy enough. For why limit oneself to a single, fixed identity when one could, instead, embrace the boundless potential of becoming anything? As Zhuangzi puts it: “Without praises, without curses, now a dragon, now a snake, you transform together with the times, and never consent to be one thing alone.”

“Zia turned toward us, her expression grim. “I will show you to your quarters. In the morning, your testing begins. We will see what magic you know, and how you know it.” I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but I exchanged an uneasy look with Sadie. “Sounds fun,” Sadie ventured. “And it we fail this test?” Zia regarded her coldly. “This is not the sort of test you fail, Sadie Kane. You pass or you die.”

“Ziellos zappte sie durch die Kanäle: Von einer Kochshow, in der ein besonders kritischer Halbling die Cousine von zwei Zwergenköchen harsch aburteilte, über eine Dokumentation, die sich mit Schimmersüchtigen beschäftigte, und einen ausführlichen Bericht über den Bombenanschlag auf den Kosmetikkonzern Lesvin vor drei Wochen, bei dem ein Mann und seine kleine Tochter starben, eine Folge von "Durchs Verlies", die auf den Krieger-Comics beruhte, und in der eine Gruppe von Helden (zwei Gnome: sie Klerikerin, er Barde), ein menschlicher Barbar, ein halbelfisches Geschwisterpärchen (er mit Messern, sie mit Bogen und Bärenbegleiter) und ein menschlicher Scharfschütze mit altertümlichen Feuereisen als Bewaffnung heroisch überzeichnete Abenteuer erlebten bis hin zu einer Reportage, die gerade erst angefangen hatte.”

“Ziggy is in front of the tube, as if nothing much has been happening in his day, watching Scooby Goes Latin! (1990). Maxine after a quick visit to the bathroom to reformat, knowing better than to start in with the Q&A, comes in and sits down next to him about the time it breaks for a commercial. “Hi, Mom.” She wants to enfold him forever. Instead she lets him recap the plot for her. Shaggy, somehow allowed to drive the van, has become confused and made some navigational errors, landing the adventurous quintet eventually in Medellín, Colombia, home at the time to a notorious cocaine cartel, where they stumble onto a scheme by a rogue DEA agent to gain control of the cartel by pretending to be the ghost—what else—of an assassinated drug kingpin. With the help of a pack of local street urchins, however, Scooby and his pals foil the plan. The cartoon comes back on, the villain is brought to justice. “And I would have got away with it, too, he complains, “if it hadn’t been for those Medellín kids!”