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Mythology Fiction Quotes

Browse 48 quotes about Mythology Fiction.

Mythology Fiction Quotes

“Vanessa’s scream of terror pierced the air, while the pegasi flapped their wings and whinnied. Andy looked to the sky. A flock of giant ebony swans flew toward the clearing, visible just beyond the tall trees. Their shiny feathers shifted between black and silver in the sunlight. Their beaks were a dull bronze, their red eyes gleaming with malice. Together they let out a screech, and the trees shook. Spencer’s jaw dropped. “That’s them. The Stymphalian Birds.”

“Inside a wool jacket the man had made a pocket for the treasure and from time to time he would jiggle the pocket, just to make sure that it was still there. And when on the train he rode to work he would jiggle it there also, but he would disguise his jiggling of the treasure on the train by devising a distraction. For example, the man would pretend to be profoundly interested in something outside the train, such as the little girl who seemed to be jumping high up on a trampoline, just high enough so that she could spy the man on the train, and in this way he really did become quite interested in what occurred outside the train, although he would still jiggle the treasure, if only out of habit. Also on the train he'd do a crossword puzzle and check his watch by rolling up his sleeve; when he did so he almost fell asleep. Antoine often felt his life to be more tedious with this treasure, because in order not to be overly noticed he had deemed it wise to fall into as much a routine as possible and do everything as casually as possible, and so, as a consequence, despite the fact that he hated his wife and daughter, he didn't leave them, he came home to them every night and he ate the creamed chicken that his wife would prepare for him, he would accept the large, fleshy hand that would push him around while he sat around in his house in an attempt to read or watch the weather, he took out the trash, he got up on time every morning and took a quick, cold shower, he shaved, he accepted the cold eggs and orange juice and coffee, he picked the newspaper off the patio and took it inside with him to read her the top headlines, and of course he went to the job.”

“Sairin bana siirinde okudugu Troya'nin dususu hikayesinde kralin kizi Cassandra olacaklari onceden goruyor ve Troyalıların buyuk atı sehre sokmalarını onlemeye calisiyor, ama onu kimse dinlemiyordu: Uzerrindeki lanetti bu, hakikati gorecek, bunu soyleyecek, ama onu kimse duymayacaktı. Erkeklerden ziyade kadinlarin uzerindeki bir lannetir bu. Erkekler hakikatin kendilerine ait olmasini, kendi kesifleri, kendi mulkleri olmasini ister.”

“Kafamda bu dusunceler gecip duruyordur, kalbim parcalanmisti, perisandi, cevremdeki insanlarla sevinmek istiyor, ama bunu yapamiyordum. Kendimi bir hain gibi hissediyordum, o buyuk hatayi ben yapmisim gibi, buna bizzat kendi, varligim ve kisiligimle ben neden olmusum gibi. Annem insanin kendi kendine acimasina neden olan o sucluluk duygusunu ogretmisti bana, hayatimin buyuk bir bolumunde bu duyguyu hep yasadim. Cocukca ve yanlis oldugunu bildigim icin bu duyguyla savastimsa da, o gerginlik ve baski altinda cocuklasmak, yanlis yapmak, tekrar bu duyguya yenik dusmek cok kolaydi.”

“Layla had always just been there. In my life. I wasn't sure who said, 'hi,' first, or maybe who smiled at who first—all I really remembered was staring at her, and her staring back at me, neither of us looking away. Both of us standing frozen, and life falling into the background with a distant hum. As if the world had stopped spinning. Just for us. I remembered not caring if it had. She'd seemed so familiar, and even as a little kid, I'd known she was special. Like something bigger than me, older than me, had taken over my emotions in a way I didn't understand. She just felt like ... home. I could have gazed into her eyes forever. Happy to stand in that powerless state for the rest of my life”

“We ache with the yearning that turns half into whole and offer no excuses for the beauty of our souls.”

“THE STAGE: The stage is empty, and you watch as the figure of Medusa steps into the gas-light. Her body is dressed in a crimson traversed by the golden branches of willow trees, colour and light held into shape by sharp black borders. Lifting languidly her hands, she reaches towards you. Her emerald vipers, in the cohesive movements of unseen mechanisms, weave loops about her head. Music is beginning, and from the shadows off-stage the narrator speaks. “Medusa had a beautiful name and a lovely voice, though no one cared to listen; seeking only the gaze of those famous eyes.” Perseus walks onto the stage, cloaked as though he were the blazing sun. Now what you have to understand is his voice – it is like nothing you could tie down. It feels peaceful to hear it, to see him flow into the song with his fine, clear looks and his finer, clearer voice. Is the head quite forgotten? Not quite but the horror exists alongside the beauty and they flow like twin rivers, and neither is able to wash the other from you.”

“He reached the huge, empty throne room. Its curved white walls were lined with sleek thrones and marble pillars with swirls winding all the way up. The shooting stars and constellations from the pitch-black ceiling gleamed down at him, fluffy clouds floating aimlessly in the dark outside the arched windows. Footsteps sounded from behind, and he hid behind the nearest throne, watching the entrance as a few of the Olympian gods shuffled inside.”

“Adam delayed only a second longer before traversing into the uncertain future, crossing the hidden divide; the fabric separating worlds. He moved from the shadows that paralleled the town, where unseen lives existed alongside of unsuspecting, oblivious people. With his seemingly mundane act of taking one step forward, he effectively walked from myth to reality.”

“What do you mean 'has to be?' and what are you smiling at?" I stopped contributing to this ridiculous dance. I grabbed the teapot and began to fill it with water in the sink. Suddenly I felt the slight weight go this body against my back and the corner of his mouth brushed adjacent my ear. "How human you are," he whispered.”

“What do you mean 'has to be?' and what are you smiling at?" I stopped contributing to this ridiculous dance. I grabbed the teapot and began to fill it with water in the sink. Suddenly I felt the slight weight of his body against my back and the corner of his mouth brushed against my ear. "How human you are," he whispered.”

“She felt her body disperse, her structure release into elemental and shifting from fire to air, to water to earth. And then there was no Earth, and it was far beyond the Sun’s keeping of years. And all was a matrix of sound. Lahana lost hold of time and became as a song lilting upon breath. Then a great longing, a longing to transfigure. The song became a dance, and touch was like a celebration of life. And life opened to a richer song. A longing for the intensification of elemental division. For the beauty of division in symphonic harmony. Lahana felt pulled with the others in her dance, gathering matter and weight and solidity. She felt time catch hold of her and an emergent cosmos. Time awakening her as she submerged into the fabric of this still young cosmos. Becoming fire shifting to air, to water to earth. Her spirit dancing with the Earthlight that began to reach through the tumult of the elements. Earthlight pouring into the spinning particles of matter and seeking harmony of flesh with spirit – with as much longing as Lahana felt. Lahana saw time awaken the evolving awareness of the Earth Spirit – embraced within the evolving awareness of the Universe. And both these, Earth and Cosmos, embracing Lahana’s own journey, offering her the garments of their flesh, offering her the sustenance of their bodies. Then a deep breath ran through her, slow and complete. And she woke . . .”

“She isn’t particularly beautiful, come to think of it. She’s taller than most women are, and there’s something about her jaw line that throws off the beauty of her face. And yet – the grace of her movements, the flash of her eyes, the way she dances…everything could be forgiven for the way she danced. – Night Dancer”

“Did you really think you could continue to loot and pillage, Bhasmasura, and your enemies would do nothing?’ On this man’s lips, the title is mocking. Bhasmasura, the name his enemies had given him – a demon who attacked and left behind only scorched earth. The name rings in his ears, and he can feel his blood sizzle in anger.”

“Evil is not supreme, for it feasts on the weaknesses of men. God gives strength to those who strive to find strength. Always believe, there is more good in the world than evil, and you can help in making sure that goodness prevails over evil.”