Faith should mean something. Gods . . . should stand for something, not chop and change with every breeze that blows. Gods should be worshipped for the truths they represent, not what party favours they might dispense.”-Razor Eddie the Punk God of the Straight Razo
In my errant life I roamedto learn the secrets of women and men,of gods and dreams.I lived in wealth and poverty, in fame and calamity.I saw every country of our world,I lived a thousand lives.Many lives I spent, other lives I squandered,for in my life I never traveled, all I did was wander.
Om rubed his head. This wasn't god-like thinking. It seemed simpler when you were up here. It was all a game. You forgot that it wasn't a game down there. People died. Bits got chopped off. We're like eagles up here, he thought. Sometimes we show tortoise how to fly. Then we let go.
When gods die, self-respect buds', murmured Orland Fank. 'Gods and their examples are not needed by those who respect themselves and, consequently, respect others. Gods are for children, for little, fearful people, for those who would have no responsibility to themselves or their fellows.
Maybe she still was a pretty-head, making up irrational stories about the empty forest. The longer she stayed alone out here, the more Tally understood why the Rusties and their predecessors had believed in invisible beings, praying to placate spirits as they trashed the natural world around them.
I almost forgot how gorgeous Adonis is," she [Ava] said, "We should have made him one of us."She [Ava] wouldn't have gotten any argument out of me, but a strange sound escaped from James, almost like he was growling. "And have to endure another narcissistic blond running around? No, thank you.
She glared at me like she was about to punch me, but then she did something that surprised me even more. She kissed me."Be careful seaweed brain." She said putting on her invisible cap and disappearing.I probably would have sat there all day, trying to remember my name, but then the sea demons came.
So there was love, once. More than love. And now there is more than hate. Mortals have no words for what we gods feel. Gods have no words for such things. But love like that doesn't just disappear, does it? No matter how powerful the hate, there is always love left, underneath. Horrible, isn't it?
There are three kinds of people in this world. One say I believe in God. Another say, I don’t believe in God, it doesn’t exist. Third one says, I have my life to live; I don’t want to believe in imaginary stuff in life and I am not here to prove your theory on imagination is wrong or right.
I mean, it's one thing saying you've got the best god, but sayin' it's the only real one is a bit of a cheek, in my opinion. I know where I can find at least two any day of the week. And they say everyone starts out bad and only gets good by believin' in Om, which is frankly damn nonsense.
The unknown grayish mystifying forest was benumbed into frost-covered cold, and the tremendous pines towering above the dark marshy soil resembled a gathering of severe mute brothers from a forbidden ancient order worshiping forgotten gods no one had ever heard of outside of the world of secret occult visions.
Nico di Angelo came into Olympus to a hero's welcome, his father right behind him, despite the fact that Hades was only supposed to visit Olympus in winter solstice. The God of the dead looked stunned when his relatives clapped him on the back. I doubt he'd ever got such an enthusiastic welcome before.
We used to make gods, and we used to make sacrifices to them, and they would reward us. We're still doing it and we still makes the sacrifices - I don't know how many cows die every year to keep Burger Clown alive, but I know it's a lot - but we don't know what to do with the gods once we have them.
This human body is the greatest body in the universe, and a human being the greatest being. Man is higher than all animals, than all angels; none is greater than man. Even the Devas (gods) will have to come down again and attain to salvation through a human body. Man alone attains to perfection, not even the Devas.
O que eu sei é que somos trágicos. Os deuses escolheram assim. Somos todos uma brincadeira deles, marionetes que envelhecem rápido demais, uma experienciazinha carnal - de modo que não lhes interessa a parcimônia: criam uns num caldo de fúria e outros na doçura total.
