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Pan Quotes

Browse 15 quotes about Pan.

Pan Quotes

“I loved the zebras, the cheetahs, the fruit flies, the octopi and the rest. But The Nature of Sex “climaxed” with a species I’d never heard of before, “bonobos,” which the narrator also called by their Latin/scientific name Pan paniscus. I knew “Pan” as classical Greek mythology’s horned and horny god of the wild, so maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised. But when the bonobos started swinging onto my screen, well… what can I say? Today, I’ve got a whole book’s worth of stuff to say, but back then, I couldn’t utter a word. Imagine looking into an evolutionary funhouse mirror and seeing a side of yourself you’ve never seen before, shocking yet deeply familiar. “Who are these vibrant, joyful creatures that look so much like me, only hairier?” I wondered. “And what’s with all the sex?” They weren’t just going at it for procreation. They were engaging in sex for recreation and interpersonal communication, very much like humans, but without the pretense, hypocrisy and shame. I got very excited, but no, I still didn’t want to have sex with them. I wanted to have sex like them (at least occasionally), in that playful yet deeply meaningful way of theirs I started calling the Bonobo Way. But would it keep our sex life out of the dreaded sinkhole? Only time would tell.”

SexEvolutionBonobosBonoboPanSwingingNature Of Sex
Book:The Bonobo Way
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“Your bread assumes the shape of the pan in which you bake your flour. Therefore stand still and know that you can't use a rounded pan and ever get squared bread. Change the pan and get your desired shape of the bread!”

DesireChangeFood For ThoughtIsraelmore AyivorBreadShapeAssumePanSquareRoundStand StillChange The PlanShape Your DreamsBake Your FlourChange The PanMake Your PlanRounded PanSquared Bread
Book:The Great Hand Book of Quotes
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“Uneori poate să-ți facă plăcere să fii tras de păr. Ca să vezi cât de ciudată e firea omului. Nu-i cu neputință să te lași târât peste munți și văi - și dacă cineva te întreabă ce ți se întâmplă, tu să răspunzi încântat: Sunt tras de păr! Iar dacă te întreabă: Să nu-ți ajut să scapi? Atunci tu să răspunzi: nu. Și dacă, în sfârșit, te întreabă: Dar cum poți să rabzi să fii tratat așa? Tu să răspunzi: Da, pot, fiindcă ador mâna care mă trage de păr.... Știi tu, Eva, ce înseamnă să speri?”

RomanaPanKnut Hamsun
Author:Knut-Hamsun
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“In her fantastic mood she stretched her soft, clasped hands upward toward the moon. 'Sweet moon,' she said in a kind of mock prayer, 'make your white light come down in music into my dancing-room here, and I will dance most deliciously for you to see". She flung her head backward and let her hands fall; her eyes were half closed, and her mouth was a kissing mouth. 'Ah! sweet moon,' she whispered, 'do this for me, and I will be your slave; I will be what you will.' Quite suddenly the air was filled with the sound of a grand invisible orchestra. Viola did not stop to wonder. To the music of a slow saraband she swayed and postured. In the music there was the regular beat of small drums and a perpetual drone. The air seemed to be filled with the perfume of some bitter spice. Viola could fancy almost that she saw a smoldering campfire and heard far off the roar of some desolate wild beast. She let her long hair fall, raising the heavy strands of it in either hand as she moved slowly to the laden music. Slowly her body swayed with drowsy grace, slowly her satin shoes slid over the silver sand. The music ceased with a clash of cymbals. Viola rubbed her eyes. She fastened her hair up carefully again. Suddenly she looked up, almost imperiously. "Music! more music!" she cried. Once more the music came. This time it was a dance of caprice, pelting along over the violin-strings, leaping, laughing, wanton. Again an illusion seemed to cross her eyes. An old king was watching her, a king with the sordid history of the exhaustion of pleasure written on his flaccid face. A hook-nosed courtier by his side settled the ruffles at his wrists and mumbled, 'Ravissant! Quel malheur que la vieillesse!' It was a strange illusion. Faster and faster she sped to the music, stepping, spinning, pirouetting; the dance was light as thistle-down, fierce as fire, smooth as a rapid stream. The moment that the music ceased Viola became horribly afraid. She turned and fled away from the moonlit space, through the trees, down the dark alleys of the maze, not heeding in the least which turn she took, and yet she found herself soon at the outside iron gate. ("The Moon Slave")”

MoonDancePaganPagan GodsPan
Book:Ghostly By Gaslight
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