Quotes About Achilles

En qué piensas? Era Aquiles, venía a mi encuentro. Su voz sonó muy alta en la silenciosa arboleda, pero no me sobresalté. En parte, esperaba que acudiera. Yo quería que lo hiciera. —En nada —contesté. No era cierto, claro, supongo que esa respuesta nunca lo es.

Quando sorrideva, la pelle attorno ai suoi occhi si increspava come carta tenuta vicino a una fiamma. Achille stesso era come una fiamma. Splendeva, attirava lo sguardo di tutti. C'era qualcosa d'incantevole in lui persino quando era appena sveglio, con i capelli scarmigliati e il volto ancora impastato di sonno.

THE GREATER THE MONUMENT, the greater the man. The stone the Greeks quarry for his grave is huge and white, stretching up to the sky. ACHILLES, it reads. It will stand for him, and speak to all who pass: he lived and died, and lives again in memory.

Plus tard , Achille dort à côté de moi. L'orage annoncé par Ulysse est arrivé, et le tissu rugueux de la tente tremble sous sa force. j'entends les vagues cinglantes gifler la grève , comme un reproche. Achille remue, et l'air remue avec lui, répandant la douce odeur musquée de son corps. Je pense que c'est ce qui va me manquer. Je pense que je me tuerai plutôt que de vivre ce manque et je me demande combien de temps il nous reste.

But he could tell your father. He might be angry." I said it almost desperately. Soon my skin would grow too warm, and I would no longer be able to think. "So what if he is?" The first time he had said something like this, I had been shocked. That his father might be angry and Achilles would still do as he wished—it was something I did not understand, could barely imagine. It was like a drug to hear him say it. I never tired of it.

Mis dedos siguieron de forma incesante el ritmo desbocado de su respiración. Sus párpados cobraron el color del cielo al romper el alba. Aquiles olía como la tierra después de la lluvia. Abrió la boca al proferir un grito inarticulado y nos estrechamos uno tan cerca del otro que sentí sobre mi piel el flujo caliente de su pasión.

To release him from it and make him Achilles again.

I lifted my chin, so they would know I was a man of some importance. I had worn the finest tunic I could find—one of Achilles'.

Later Achilles would play the lyre, as Chiron and I listened. My mother's lyre. He had brought it with him.

In Phthia, the consonants were harder than elsewhere, and the vowels wider. It had sounded ugly to me, until I heard Achilles speak.

Achilles' miracle was his speed.

A su muerte, Aquiles enterraría con él todas las cosas veloces, hermosas y luminosas.

But then I see the tomb, and the marks she has made on the stone. A C H I L L E S, it reads. And beside it, P A T R O C L U S.

Achilles smiles as his face strikes the earth.

Achilles' eyes were bright in the firelight, his face drawn sharply by the flickering shadows. I would know it in dark, or disguise. I told myself. I would know it even in madness.

Ma dernière pensée est pour Achille.

i thought, this is what achilles will feel like when he's old. and then i remembered: he will never be old

Aprendí a dormir de día con el fin de no estar cansado a su regreso, pues Aquiles siempre necesitaba hablar y contarme hasta el último detalle de los semblantes, las heridas y los movimientos de los hombres. Y yo deseaba ser capaz de escuchar para asimilar las sangrientas imágenes y pintarlas luego vulgares y corrientes en el vaso de la posteridad, y para liberarle de ellas y conseguir que volviera a ser Aquiles.

And we remembered, too, which god he served. The divinity of light and medicine and plague. Achilles slipped out of the tent when the moon was high. He came back some time later, smelling of the sea. "What does she say?" I asked, sitting up in bed. "She says we are right.

You have eked out ten more years of life, and I am glad for you. But the rest of us -" His mouth twists. "The rest of us are forced to wait for your leisure. You are holding us here, Achilles.

For like Phoinix I am declared already, decided. I am no longer to guide the course, merely to be carried into darkness and beyond, with only Achilles' hands at the helm.

Patroclus." Achilles did not slur my name, as people often did, running it together as if in a hurry to be rid of it. Instead, he rang each syllable: Pa-tro-clus.

Comme dit le poète, Achille est la moitié de mon âme.

La presencia de Aquiles era como una china en el zapato, imposible de pasar por alto. Tenía la piel del color del aceite de oliva recién prensado y era suave como la madera pulida, sin las cicatrices y magulladuras de que estábamos cubiertos los demás.