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Lore Quotes

Browse 35 quotes about Lore.

Lore Quotes

“The word "myth" can be most appropriately and simply defined as a story intended to convey some kind of timeless, sacred truth. Why use a story, instead of some other means, to convey what are perceived to be timeless, sacred truths? Stories engage more - and arguably deeper - parts of ourselves than bare, conceptual discourse usually does. They're more entertaining, and they can be more emotionally moving. They're not necessarily irrational - especially when one understands the basic assumptions of the worldview out of which they spring - but they are generally nonrational. They don't necessarily contradict a particular rational understanding of the world, but they're not concerned with the rational validity or lack thereof in what they purport to describe. They bypass reason altogether, for better or for worse. Rather than stating an idea and then arguing for why that is an accurate reflection of reality, stories go straight to the example, depicting the cosmos as seen through the lens of the idea. They show rather than tell. These factors make stories more persuasive than rational argument, for most people and as a general rule, which is most if not all societies have entrusted their core beliefs to myth more often than to rational argument.”

“Cashewblai Pecan was a mighty conqueror, much as his grandsire Genghis had been. Under his yasa, all roadways were safe for travelers and honest men. ‘Twas by many a wise tongue said, That a maiden with a golden vessel on her head, Might walk alone without fear or dread. From the great eastern sea all the way to Mesopotamia, Such was the promise of the Pax Macadamia!”

“Truth is, Frauka, none of us know you very well at all. We can't read you.' 'Story of my life. You have no idea whatsoever how hard it is to be an untouchable. Everyone feels the absence, and it makes them uncomfortable. You get treated like shit. Working for Ravenor's the only decent job I've ever had, the only time I've felt worth anything. I guess that's over now, isn't it? Get off my back. I've covered yours long enough, and I deserve more respect, even if I make you uncomfortable.”

“All that remains is for me to make a sad observation. Like so many other creatures that once embellished life and brought hope, house spirits have vanished and with them the souls of our houses have fled, never to return. Homes have sunk into anonymity; building rituals have almost entirely disappeared; prefabricated industrial materials have replaced the quest for attentive selection of materials that were wrought with love; the meaning of ornaments are no longer known and the moon, sun, stars and crosses have disappeared from our facades; radiators have replaced the hearth and stove; our corners have become little more than dust collectors; and there is no longer anything concealed beneath our thresholds. We have transformed into rootless wanderers with no fire or place to call our own. The individual no longer has any attachment to a house that has been passed down for generations. In loosing all of this, we have lost a piece of ourselves, one of our most solid anchors, and like dead leaves carried by the wind, we settle one day here, another day there, driven by the whims of our professions, but we no longer bring the embers from our hearths with us, and the surviving spirits weep in abandoned houses.”

“But Odin had a trick up his sleeve. For his final question to Vafthrudnir, he asked, "And what, wise giant, did Odin whisper in the ear of Balder, before that great son of his was burned on the funeral pyre?" Vafthrudnir became livid with rage. "Now I see who you really he said grimly, "for only Odin himself could know the answer that question." He clenched his teeth and his fists, and closed his eyes. When he opened them, however, his face had an expression of melancholy acceptance, and he said, "Now for the first time in my life I have lost a contest of lore. But my consolation will be that I lost it to Odin, the most knowledgeable being there is.”

“He's like six hundred years younger than you are. I refuse to be the moral compass of our cell! Most weekends I have an intoxispell bong attached to my mouth like a respirator. I love scatological humor, and I list 'pranks involving nuclear waste' and 'making demons eat things' as my hobbies.”

“You did this to him." Her anger was a blazing inferno, but her voice was cold, unfeeling. I'd never heard that tone from her. "If it makes you feel better, I was aiming for you." His low drawl didn't hide the fear I sensed coming from him. He'd realized the same thing I had-the true threat wasn't him and it certainly wasn't me. There was something far worse in these woods tonight. And I was wholly captivated. I kept my attention on Lore, sensing a chasm splitting inside her, growing wider the longer her anger simmered without an outlet. She was a geyser ready to blow. I released a small hiss as the next wave of ice moved through my veins. Lore didn't miss the barely audible sound, as if she was now attuned to the slightest shift in me. Her gaze darkened, like a shadow passing over the sun. "You shouldn't have missed.”

“There was nothing soft or forgiving in her face; there was hardly anything human in it. She wore a mask of vengeance that would make the fiercest archangels tremble if they dared to gaze upon it. She was a perfect nightmare. An inkling of recognition flickered in, but I couldn't sort out what was familiar. My sweet ray of sunshine who burned hotter than the surface of the sun when provoked. It seemed like I was the only one who admired her ferocity. I heard the Fae's boots catch on a rock as he stumbled back. It was the wrong move. Showing a predator any fear was the quickest way to ensure they attacked. Right now Lore was no different. I sensed the rising tide of power a moment before she detonated. "You hurt what's mine.”

“The father and daughter made their way north, through unknown sylvan paradises where only the owls and skunks know their way around. The hard work of paddling non-stop for many hours had long since stopped being difficult for Saweyimew. In spite of her beauty and grace, her back had grown strong and sinewy from years of canoe trips. She reveled in the exhilaration it always brought her, after the first few hours left her body insensible to pain or discomfort. Warm and tingly, lulled into peaceful contemplation by hours of the rhythmic paddling, the smell of the water, exotic blooms, animal musk. It all combined as one to make her feel so alive. Especially when it rained, and her body steamed against the cool drops, feeling invincible against the elements. The mountain of her father's back was like a rock against anything nature could throw against them. The stream of fragrant pipe-smoke still flowing from his lips, regardless of any obstacle. She felt at that moment, nothing would ever stop her father's pipe from smoking. Nothing, not death, not any force of the living or spirit world, would ever still her father's heart. Rain cleansing her to the core, she was a spring of raw power and self-reliance, paddling against all adversity--their master completely. Her father's daughter. At times like that, when it rained, she entirely understood and shared her father's outlook on life.”