Quotes About Prometheus

Google the name Prometheus, and see how often it has been given to innovations in many different fields, notably science, medicine and space exploration. The fire he stole can be seen, too, as the spark generating all artistic creativity.

It was beer, not fire, that Prometeus stole from the gods and brought to man.

What Shelley's world of Prometheus Unbound really has to fear is not resurrection of Jupiter but the resurrection of John Donne.

For 'Prometheus,' I came back to a very simple question that haunted me that appears in the first 'Alien,' and no one answered in subsequent Alien films: who was the 'Space Jockey' - the big guy in the seat? If you really go into that, it becomes the basis for a pretty interesting story.

Prometheus - trickster, rebel and hero - links the realm of the gods with the world of humanity, with which he had such close affinity. His act of stealing fire has been viewed as the foundation of all man's technologies.

Then Prometheus, in his perplexity as to what preservation he could devise, stole from Hephaestus and Athena wisdom in the arts together with fire -- since by no means without fire could it be acquired or helpfully used by any -- and he handed it there and then as a gift to man.

Prometheus had been foolish to bestow fire on men instead of selling it to them: he would have made money, placated Jove, and avoided all that trouble with the vulture.

When all the other animals, downcast looked upon the earth, he [Prometheus] gave a face raised on high to man, and commanded him to see the sky and raise his high eyes to the stars.

The Greeks saw the advance of civilization bringing new ills. Their sour parable of technological progress was the familiar myth of Prometheus. Punished for affronting the gods by stealing fire for men's use, Prometheus was chained to a rock so an eagle could feed on his liver, which grew back each night. According to Lucretius, necessity had led men to invent, and then inventions spawned frivolous needs that equipped and encouraged them to slaughter one another in war.

How do you bear it?" he said. My eyes gave off a faint light, and by it I could see his face, It was a surprise to realise that he was waiting for an answer. I believed I had one. I thought of another dim room, with another prisoner. He had been a craftsman also. On the foundation of his knowledge, civilisation had been built. Prometheus' words deep-running as roots, had waited in me all this time. "We bear it as best we can," I said.

It was their fate, as Prometheus had told me, the story that they all shared. No matter how vivid they were in life, no matter how brilliant, no matter the wonders they made, they came to dust and smoke.

Prometheus' words, deep-running as roots, had waited in me all this time. "We bear it as best we can," I said.

Prometheus recast as a serial killer.

...art is something subversive. It's something that should not be free. Art and liberty, like the fire of Prometheus, are things that one must steal, to be used against the established order.

Better the self-torture of a godless Protestant conscience than the fantasies of a modern Prometheus.

Modern man became a Prometheus, believing himself a god capable of transforming anything and everything at will. "When God has become invisible behind the world," Voegelin said, "the things of the world become new gods." Once this is understood,

Prometheus, thief of light, giver of light, bound by the gods, must have been a book.

The release of nuclear energy is an event comparable to the first fire kindled by prehistoric man -- though there is no modern Prometheus but teams of clever yet less heroic fellows, useless as inspiration for epic poetry.

The Alchemyst had discovered that the seats revolved and had been amusing himself by swinging back and forth. His chair squeaked with each turn.Finally Prometheus turned and glared at the immortal. "If you do that one more time, I'm going to feed you to the Lotan myself." "And I will help," Niten added.

And Prometheus was flying directly toward them. William Shakespeare shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Now, I've never been a warrior,and I know little about tactics,but shouldn't we be flying in the other direction?" They were close enough now to see the wide-eyed anpu in the nearest craft. "We will," Prometheus said. "Just as soon as the missiles explode." "Which missiles?" Shakespeare asked. "The two just behind us.

Megalodons," Prometheus announced, pulling the Rukma higher and higher, little fountains of water spilling from the leaks in its sides. "They were at least thirty feet long!" Scathach said. "I know," replied the Elder. "They must have been babies.

Niten drew in a deep shuddering breath and the air was suffused with the delicate odor of green tea. "And Tsagaglalal . . ." "Yes, Father?" Prometheus closed his eyes. "Tell Niten to find Aoife and ask her the question. Tell him . . . tell him she will say yes.

He smiled at the sudden image of Prometheus tossing cars from one side of the bridge to the other to build his barrier. He heard the tiny tinkle of glass and wondered if being tossed across the Golden Gate Bridge by an Elder was covered by insurance.

Most vain all hope but love. - Prometheus Unbound