Quotes About Mythology

I do not pretend to be able to prove that there is no God. I equally cannot prove that Satan is a fiction. The Christian god may exist; so may the gods of Olympus, or of ancient Egypt, or of Babylon. But no one of these hypotheses is more probable than any other: they lie outside the region of even probable knowledge, and therefore there is no reason to consider any of them.

Since he preferred to sleep naked as Poseidon,

Speak of the Gods as they are.

in Jain accounts, Ravana is killed by Lakshmana. In Dasharatha Jataka, Sita is Rama's sister. In Ramayana and Purana accounts, Rama is Vishnu's seventh avatara.

What we need now are new stories to share with each other, new tales to live into the world, which is to say, stories to make real by living our own versions of them.

I'm here because all fairy tales take place in the woods, King Cole, even those that don't.

I always liked the idea that Thor was the god who'd wake up every day and look at that hammer and not know whether he was going to pick it up. Only the worthy can lift the hammer of Thor, and I love the idea of a god who was always questioning his own worthiness.

I think that in Sweden and a lot of European countries, there's this whole mythology of the wounded artist: that you can't really do any great art unless you're suffering.

Nothing is more theater-based than wrestling. It's Greek-tragedy-level theater.

I go back and research, say, every reference to the Gorgons, and I find what the classical writers said about them and it's so much richer than you might get in an average Greek mythology text. I feel like an archaeologist - I'm dusting off these things that people have not seen for thousands of years and bringing them into the modern world.

The Bible is very resonant. It has everything: creation, betrayal, lust, poetry, prophecy, sacrifice. All great things are in the Bible, and all great writers have drawn from it and more than people realise, whether Shakespeare, Herman Melville or Bob Dylan.

Cosmic terror appears as an ingredient of the earliest folklore of all races and is crystallised in the most archaic ballads, chronicles, and sacred writings.

She wasn't Zeus, to cause Phaëthon to stop driving the chariot of bright Helios: she couldn't halt the daily chariot of crushing light and rushing time.

I have no use for the kind of God who goes walking in his garden with a stick, sends his friends to live in the bellies of whales, gives up the ghost with a groan and then comes back to life three days later!

I can't admit of an old boy of a God who takes walks in his garden with a cane in his hand, who lodges his friends in the belly of whales, dies uttering a cry, and rises again at the end of three days; things absurd in themselves, and completely opposed, moreover, to all physical laws, which prove to us, by the way, that priests have always wallowed in turpid ignorance, in which they would fain engulf the people with them.

You only have to look at the Medusa straight on to see her. And she's not deadly. She's beautiful and she's laughing.

Wouldn't the worst be, isn't the worst, in truth, that women aren't castrated, that they have only to stop listening to the Sirens (for the Sirens were men) for history to change its meaning? You only have to look at the Medusa straight on to see her. And she's not deadly. She's beautiful and she's laughing.

The worshiper is the father of the gods.

When, long ago, the gods created Earth In Jove's fair image Man was shap'd at birth. The beasts for lesser parts were next design'd; Yet were they too remote from humankind. To fill the gap, and join the rest to man, Th'Olympian host conceiv'd a clever plan. A beast they wrought, in semi-human figure, Fill'd it with vice, and call'd the thing a NIGGER.

Wise men have interpreted dreams, and the gods have laughed.

They worshipped, so they said, the Great Old Ones who lived ages before there were any men, and who came to the young world out of the sky. Those Old Ones were gone now, inside the earth and under the sea; but their dead bodies had told their secrets in dreams to the first men, who formed a cult which had never died.

Those Old Ones were gone now, inside the earth and under the sea; but their dead bodies had told their secrets in dreams to the first men, who formed a cult which had never died.

Los sabios interpretan los sueños, y los dioses se ríen.

They were the makers and enslavers of that life, and above all doubt the originals of the fiendish elder myths