Aphrodite Greek Quotes

Aphrodite had the beauty; Zeus had the thunderbolts. Everyone loved Aphrodite, but everyone listened to Zeus.

So Aphrodite married Hephaestus and the celebrity ship Aphrophaestus completely dominated Olympian tabloid news for like a thousand years. Did they live happily ever after? HAHAHAHAHA. No.

G.I. Joe boxers!’ Apollo screamed. ‘OH—oh, I can’t even... HAHAHAHAHA!’ ‘Aphrodite,’ Athena giggled. ‘You look simply lovely.’ The gods couldn't stop laughing. Soon they were rolling on the floor, wiping tears from their eyes, taking photos with their phones to post on Tumblr.

Wonderful, Annabeth thought. Her own mother, the most levelheaded Olympian, was reduced to a raving, vicious scatterbrain in a subway station. And, of all the gods who might help them, the only ones not affected by the Greek-Roman schism seemed to be Aphrodite, Nemesis and Dionysus. Love, revenge, wine. Very helpful.

Aphrodite is about love and beauty. Being loving. Spreading beauty. Good friends. Good times. Good deeds.

It was certainly not this mummified and outrageously painted old woman he was seeing before him, but the entire "female species," as it was his custom to call women. The individual disappeared, the features were obliterated, whether young or senile, beautiful or ugly - those were mere unimportant variations. Behind each woman rises the austere, sacred and mysterious face of Aphrodite.

Love conquers all," Aphrodite promised. “Wow," Thalia muttered. “Ever had a flying burrito hit you?" Grover was sniffing the wind, looking nervous. “In a way, it's nice to know that there are Greek gods out there, because you have somebody to blame when things go wrong. “God alert!" Blackjack yelled.

I asked myself What, Sappho, can you give one who has everything, like Aphrodite?

Choose,' she says, reaching out towards him. 'Choose to which of us the apple most belongs...

So close I can almost touch you But then you're gone Like mist around the edge...

There are few things more mysterious than endings. I mean, for example, when did the Greek gods end, exactly? Was there a day when Zeus waved magisterially down from Olympus and Aphrodite and her lover Ares, and her crippled husband Hephaestus ) I always felt sorry for him), and all the rest got rolled up like a worn-out carpet?

And of all the gods who might help them, the only ones not affected by the Greek–Roman schism seemed to be Aphrodite, Nemesis, and Dionysus. Love, revenge, wine. Very helpful.

Aeneas' mother is a star?" "No; a goddess." I said cautiously, "Venus is the power that we invoke in spring, in the garden, when things begin growing. And we call the evening star Venus." He thought it over. Perhaps having grown up in the country, among pagans like me, helped him understand my bewilderment. "So do we, he said. "But Venus also became more...With the help of the Greeks. They call her Aphrodite...There was a great poet who praised her in Latin. Delight of men and gods, he called her, dear nurturer. Under the sliding star signs she fills the ship-laden sea and the fruitful earth with her being; through her the generations are conceived and rise up to see the sun; from her the storm clouds flee; to her the earth, the skillful maker, offers flowers. The wide levels of the sea smile at her, and all the quiet sky shines and streams with light..." It was the Venus I had prayed to, it was my prayer, though I had no such words. They filled my eyes with tears and my heart with inexpressible joy.

The others want to coerce her. I want her to want me... so he prayed to Aphrodite, goddess of love.

Actually, they didn't have chocolate in Ancient Greece, but Aphrodite was fond of apples. That was her sacred fruit, maybe because it was pretty and sweet, just like her. (Insert gagging sounds here.)

Poseidon was also the father of Percy (Perseus) in the Percy Jackson series

Aphrodite (‘foam-born’) is the same wide-ruling goddess who rose from Chaos and danced on the sea,

Eros mumbled something. "I'm sorry?" said Aphrodite. "Whatwouldjesusdo." "What would Jesus do?" said Aphrodite. "Let me tell you something. Jesus was a very good boy. He would do exactly what his mother told him to." "But-" "Jesus was supposed to be a god, right?" said Aphrodite. "Ergo, he did revenge. All gods do revenge." "Not exactly. He said you should turn the other-" "What else does your Jesus say?" Aphrodite interrupted. "I thought you didn't care." "Let me see," said Aphrodite. "I remember. 'Honour thy father and mother'." "One, that wasn't Jesus. And two, it's hard to honour your father when there are so many candidates for who he might be." "That's not very nice," said Aphrodite. "You know who your father is. It's your cousin Ares." [...] "I wish the Virgin Mary was my mother," grumbled Eros eventually.

Why are you laughing?’ Athena demanded. ‘Well …’ Demeter suppressed a smile. ‘It’s just that when you play the flute, your eyes cross and your cheeks puff out, and you make this funny shape with your mouth.’ ‘Like this …’ Aphrodite demonstrated, doing her best imitation of Athena’s flute face, which looked sort of like a constipated duck’s. The

The moon’s three phases of new, full, and old recalled the matriarch’s three phases of maiden, nymph (nubile woman), and crone. Then, since the sun’s annual course similarly recalled the rise and decline of her physical powers – spring a maiden, summer a nymph, winter a crone – the goddess became identified with seasonal changes in animal and plant life; and thus with Mother Earth who, at the beginning of the vegetative year, produces only leaves and buds, then flowers and fruits, and at last ceases to bear. She could later be conceived as yet another triad: the maiden of the upper air, the nymph of the earth or sea, the crone of the underworld – typified respectively by Selene, Aphrodite, and Hecate. These mystical analogues fostered the sacredness of the number three, and the Moon-goddess became enlarged to nine when each of the three persons – maiden, nymph, and crone – appeared in triad to demonstrate her divinity. Her devotees never quite forgot that there were not three goddesses, but one goddess; though, by Classical times, Arcadian Stymphalus was one of the few remaining shrines where they all bore the same name: Hera.

I might find a mortal to love me,” she continues, “but that’s worship, not love. I’m perfect. Mortals aren’t meant to love perfection. It disillusions and destroys them in the end.

The gods had some very strange ways of making mortals immortal or invulnerable.

Women had no power without a husband or father—a woman living in exile had nothing.

all is fair in love and war but war must bow down to love eventually

Canterò la bella, veneranda Afrodite dall’aurea corona, protettrice delle mura dell’intera Cipro circondata dal mare

Aphrodite, on the other hand, saw every wedding as a small defeat. She prized love, but not the marital kind. Never the marital kind. What kind of love was that: companionship? The precursor to children?

Far be it from me to ever cast a shadow upon the wisdom of a Golden Age Greek, but Archimedes had it wrong. The length of the straight line between two people who didn't admit they're in love is infinite.

Apollo taught her to sing and play the lyre. Athene taught her to spin, Demeter to tend a garden. Aphrodite taught her how to look at a man without moving her eyes and how to dance without moving her legs. Poseidon gave her a pearl necklace and promised she would never drown. And finally Hermes gave her a beautiful golden box, which, he told her, she must never, never open. And then Hera gave her curiosity.

The influence of Greek art and literature became so powerful in Rome that ancient Roman deities were changed to resemble the corresponding Greek gods, and were considered to be the same. Most of them, however, in Rome had Roman names. These were Jupiter (Zeus), Juno (Hera), Neptune (Poseidon), Vesta (Hestia), Mars (Ares), Minerva (Athena), Venus (Aphrodite), Mercury (Hermes), Diana (Artemis), Vulcan or Mulciber (Hephaestus), Ceres (Demeter).

Behind this lies not just impact or drama, but a typically Japanese tendency. The story of Pygmalion, the Greek myth — in which Pygmalion falls in love with the statue of a young woman that he creates and which is hen transformed into a human by Aphrodite who imbues it with life — represents a Western approach in which the statue represents the human body. In Japan, however, there is a unique predilection for dolls ... This can be interpreted as a decadent, necrophiliac erotic story but it can also be interpreted as a propensity for Japanese men to fall in love with figures. These men's desires are directed at the figure for the very reason that it is a doll. The overwhelming passivity of the doll is a reflection of the behavior of a certain type of Japanese man whose immaturity makes it very difficult for him to establish an equal relationship with a mature woman.

Laughter-loving Aphrodite answered her, “I was wounded by the son of Tydeus, that arrogant Diomedes, because I took my dear son from the battle— my son Aeneas, whom I love the most of anyone by far. The violent fighting is now no longer Trojans against Greeks. 380 510 The Greeks are fighting the immortal gods!

of the problem was that Chaos got a little creation-happy. It thought to its misty, gloomy self: Hey, Earth and Sky. That was fun! I wonder what else I can make. Soon it created all sorts of other problems—and by that I mean gods. Water collected out of the mist of Chaos, pooled in the deepest parts of the earth, and formed the first seas, which naturally developed a consciousness—the god Pontus. Then Chaos really went nuts and thought: I know! How about a dome like the sky, but at the bottom of the earth! That would be awesome! So another dome came into being beneath the earth, but it was dark and murky and generally not very nice, since it was always hidden from the light of the sky. This was Tartarus, the Pit of Evil; and as you can guess from the name, when he developed a godly personality, he didn't win any popularity contests. The problem was, both Pontus and Tartarus liked Gaea, which put some pressure on her relationship with Ouranos. A bunch of other primordial gods popped up, but if I tried to name them all we’d be here for weeks. Chaos and Tartarus had a kid together (don’t ask how; I don’t know) called Nyx, who was the embodiment of night. Then Nyx, somehow all by herself, had a daughter named Hemera, who was Day. Those two never got along because they were as different as…well, you know. According to some stories, Chaos also created Eros, the god of procreation... in other words, mommy gods and daddy gods having lots of little baby gods. Other stories claim Eros was the son of Aphrodite. We’ll get to her later. I don’t know which version is true, but I do know Gaea and Ouranos started having kids—with very mixed results. First, they had a batch of twelve—six girls and six boys called the Titans. These kids looked human, but they were much taller and more powerful. You’d figure twelve kids would be enough for anybody, right? I mean, with a family that big, you’ve basically got your own reality TV show. Plus, once the Titans were born, things started to go sour with Ouranos and Gaea’s marriage. Ouranos spent a lot more time hanging out in the sky. He didn't visit. He didn't help with the kids. Gaea got resentful. The two of them started fighting. As the kids grew older, Ouranos would yell at them and basically act like a horrible dad. A few times, Gaea and Ouranos tried to patch things up. Gaea decided maybe if they had another set of kids, it would bring them closer…. I know, right? Bad idea. She gave birth to triplets. The problem: these new kids defined the word UGLY. They were as big and strong as Titans, except hulking and brutish and in desperate need of a body wax. Worst of all, each kid had a single eye in the middle of his forehead. Talk about a face only a mother could love. Well, Gaea loved these guys. She named them the Elder Cyclopes, and eventually they would spawn a whole race of other, lesser Cyclopes. But that was much later. When Ouranos saw the Cyclops triplets, he freaked. “These cannot be my kids! They don’t even look like me!” “They are your children, you deadbeat!” Gaea screamed back. “Don’t you dare leave me to raise them on my own!

While altering the saga of Odysseus’s Return to make my Elyman suitors serve as Penelope’s lovers, I had to protect myself against scandal. What if someone recognized the story and supposed that I, Nausicaa the irreproachable, had played the promiscuous harlot in my father’s absence? So, according to my poem, Penelope must have remained faithful to Odysseus throughout those twenty years. And because this change meant that Aphrodite had failed to take her traditional revenge, I must make Poseidon, not her, the enemy who delayed him on his homeward voyage after the Fall of Troy. I should therefore have to omit the stories of Penelope’s banishment and the oar mistaken for a flail, and Odysseus’s death from Telemachus’s sting-ray spear. When I told Phemius of these decisions, he pointed out, rather nastily, that since Poseidon had fought for the Greeks against the Trojans, and since Odysseus had never failed to honour him, I must justify this enmity by some anecdote. “Very well,” I answered. “Odysseus blinded a Cyclops who, happening to be Poseidon’s son, prayed to him for vengeance.” “My dear Princess, every Cyclops in the smithies of Etna was born to Uranus, Poseidon’s grandfather, by Mother Earth.” “Mine was an exceptional Cyclops,” I snapped. “He claimed Poseidon as his father and kept sheep in a Sican cave, like Conturanus. I shall call him Polyphemus—that is, ‘famous’—to make my hearers think him a more important character than he really was.” “Such deceptions tangle the web of poetry.” “But if I offer Penelope as a shining example for wives to follow when their husbands are absent on long journeys, that will excuse the deception.

(Don’t look at me funny. That’s exactly what the old stories called him: a lame ass-driver. The dude was lame, like crippled. He was leading an ass, like a donkey. What did you think I meant?) Anyway, Psyche thought it was weird to see a crippled dude in a volcanic vent, just hanging out with his ass. (I’m not going to laugh. Nope. Not even a little.) The guy called out to her, “Hello, there, girl! You look kind and helpful. My ass has dropped some of its load…by which, of course, I mean that my donkey has dropped some of the firewood it was carrying. Could you help me gather up these sticks and put them back on my ass?” I guess Aphrodite was testing Psyche to see if she would get distracted by helping the dude. Either that or she was trying to make Psyche laugh so hard she would fall into the chasm.

Zeus in his sphere of power, Aphrodite in hers, are irresistible. To be a god is to be totally absorbed in the exercise of one's own power, the fulfillment of one's own nature, unchecked by any thought of others except as obstacles to be overcome; it is to be incapable of self questioning or self-criticism. But there are human beings who are like this. Preeminent in their particular sphere of power, they impose their will on others with the confidence, the unquestioning certainty of their own right and worth that is characteristic of gods. Such people the Greeks called "heroes"; they recognized the fact that they transcended the norms of humanity by according them worship at their tombs after death. Heroes might be, usually were, violent, antisocial, destructive, but they offered an assurance that in some chosen vessels humanity is capable of superhuman greatness, that there are some human beings who can deny the imperative which others obey in order to live. The heroes are godlike in their passionate self-esteem. But they are not gods, not immortal. They are subject, like the rest of us, to failure, above all to the irremediable failure of death. And sooner or later, in suffering, in disaster, they come to realize their limits, accept mortality and establish (or reestablish) a human relationship with their fellowmen.

I've been waiting for you," he murmured. Aphrodite slowly walked across the balcony, as her mind raced, trying to think of the perfect thing to say in return. All of a sudden a thought came to her that she didn't quite understand, but she knew it was right. It was also important, and would immortalize her and her actions for thousands of years to come. "Happy Valentine's Day," she purred, as she fell into his arms, still holding the box of chocolates and a single red rose.

That is the miracle of Greek mythology—a humanized world, men freed from the paralyzing fear of an omnipotent Unknown. The terrifying incomprehensibilities which were worshiped elsewhere, and the fearsome spirits with which earth, air, and sea swarmed, were banned from Greece. It may seem odd to say that the men who made the myths disliked the irrational and had a love for facts; but it is true, no matter how wildly fantastic some of the stories are. Anyone who reads them with attention discovers that even the most nonsensical take place in a world which is essentially rational and matter-of-fact. Hercules, whose life was one long combat against preposterous monsters, is always said to have had his home in the city of Thebes. The exact spot where Aphrodite was born of the foam could be visited by any ancient tourist; it was just offshore from the island of Cythera. The winged steed Pegasus, after skimming the air all day, went every night to a comfortable stable in Corinth. A

Here’s the thing about true love. If there are seven billion people on the planet, there are seven billion different ways to see it. There is no such thing as the most beautiful woman in the world. What looks like love for one person doesn’t for another. Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love, could become any woman because any woman could be the most beautiful woman in the world to someone. I’ve always loved that about Aphrodite. Even though she'd picked her favourite, she knew that every face was worthy of adoration.

ACHILLES – the best fighter of the Greeks who besieged Troy in the Trojan War; extraordinarily strong, courageous, and loyal, he had only one weak spot: his heel AENEAS – a Trojan hero, the son of Aphrodite and a favourite of Apollo; became king of the Trojan people AMPHORA (AMPHORAE, pl.) – a tall ceramic jar ANDROMEDA – the daughter of the Ethiopian king, Cepheus, and his wife, Cassiopeia; after Cassiopeia bragged that her daughter was more beautiful than the Nereids, Poseidon sent a sea monster, Cetus, to attack Ethiopia; Perseus saved Andromeda from the rock she was chained to as a sacrifice

The problem is that we who are badly wounded in our relation to the feminine usually have a fairly successful persona, a good public image. We have grown up as docile, often intellectual, daughters of the patriarchy, with what I call ‘animus-egos.’ We strive to keep up the virtues and aesthetic ideals which the patriarchal superego has presented to us. But we are filled with self-loathing and a deep sense of personal ugliness and failure when we can neither meet nor mitigate the superego’s standards of perfection. But we also feel unseen because there are no images alive to reflect our wholeness and variety. But where shall we look for symbols to suggest the full mystery and potency of the feminine and to provide images as models for personal life. The later Greek goddesses and Mary, Virgin Mother, and Mediator, have not struck me to the core as have Innana-Ereshkigal, Kali, and Isis. An image for the goddess as Self needs to have a full-bodied coherence. So I have had to see the female Greek deities as partial aspects of one wholeness pattern and to look always for the darker powers hidden i their stories—the gorgon aspect of Athena, the underworld Aphrodite-Urania, the Black Demeter, etc. Even in the tales of Inanna and other early Sumerian, Semitic, and Egyptian writings there is evidence that the original potencies of the feminine have been ‘demoted.' As Kramer tells us, the goddesses ‘that held top rank in the Sumerian pantheon were gradually forced down the ladder by male theologians’ and ‘their powers turned over to male deities. This permitted cerebral-intellectual-Apollonian, left brain consciousness, with its ethical and conceptual discriminations, to be born and to grow.

Aphrodite is still outside the ranks of the Olympian deities, and continued to be so, as far as this story is concerned, even after she was received amongst them. One reason why she remained aloof from Olympus was her great sphere of dominion elsewhere: as, for the same reason, did Hekate, to whom she becomes closely similar when she is found, under the name of Aphrodite Zerynthia on the Thracian coast, or of Genetyllis on the Attic coast, receiving sacrifices of dogs. For the Athenians she was “the oldest Moira”.{162} Elsewhere, too, she was thought to resemble the Moirai and the Erinyes, in being, like them, a daughter of Kronos.{163} On the other hand, the tale of her being directly begotten by Ouranos connected our great love-goddess for all time with the sea. For us she was the Anadyomene, the goddess who “emerges” from the salt waves; and she also had the additional name of Pelagia, “she of the sea”.

Hera said that Hephaestus was the one who made the lovely chariots for Zeus, Poseidon & Hades. Also the one for Helios, the Sun God. And if she married him, he might make one for her too. But she did not tell the young Goddess of Love why none of the Goddesses wanted to marry him in the first instance & that he was ugly & a cripple. She also omitted to tell her that Hephaestus, having created the first woman, Pandora, from clay, had neither the patience nor the inclination to woo & pamper women, let alone put up with the changing moods of the young lovely Goddesses at Olympus. And that even the warlike & down-to-earth Athena had dropped him like a ton of bricks. As Aphrodite did not appear to have any choices, she nodded her head & thus accepted Hera as her future mother-in-law. And this explains one of the greatest mysteries in Greek Mythology: why the loveliest & most beautiful of the Goddesses would agree to marry the ugliest of the Gods. For this mismatch would not have happened if not for Hera.

Fragment of the Elegy on the Death of Adonis Prom the Greek of Bion Published by Forman, "Poetical Works of P. B. S.", 1876. I mourn Adonis dead—loveliest Adonis— Dead, dead Adonis—and the Loves lament. Sleep no more, Venus, wrapped in purple woof— Wake violet-stoled queen, and weave the crown Of Death,—'tis Misery calls,—for he is dead. The lovely one lies wounded in the mountains, His white thigh struck with the white tooth; he scarce Yet breathes; and Venus hangs in agony there. The dark blood wanders o'er his snowy limbs, His eyes beneath their lids are lustreless, The rose has fled from his wan lips, and there That kiss is dead, which Venus gathers yet. A deep, deep wound Adonis... A deeper Venus bears upon her heart. See, his beloved dogs are gathering round— The Oread nymphs are weeping—Aphrodite With hair unbound is wandering through the woods, 'Wildered, ungirt, unsandalled—the thorns pierce Her hastening feet and drink her sacred blood. Bitterly screaming out, she is driven on Through the long vales; and her Assyrian boy, Her love, her husband, calls—the purple blood From his struck thigh stains her white navel now, Her bosom, and her neck before like snow. Alas for Cytherea—the Loves mourn— The lovely, the beloved is gone!—and now Her sacred beauty vanishes away. For Venus whilst Adonis lived was fair— Alas! her loveliness is dead with him. The oaks and mountains cry, Ai! ai! Adonis! The springs their waters change to tears and weep— The flowers are withered up with grief... Ai! ai! ... Adonis is dead Echo resounds ... Adonis dead. Who will weep not thy dreadful woe. O Venus? Soon as she saw and knew the mortal wound Of her Adonis—saw the life-blood flow From his fair thigh, now wasting,—wailing loud She clasped him, and cried ... 'Stay, Adonis! Stay, dearest one,... and mix my lips with thine— Wake yet a while, Adonis—oh, but once, That I may kiss thee now for the last time— But for as long as one short kiss may live— Oh, let thy breath flow from thy dying soul Even to my mouth and heart, that I may suck That...' NOTE: _23 his Rossetti, Dowden, Woodberry; her Boscombe manuscript, Forman

April. It teaches us everything. The coldest and nastiest days of the year can happen in April. It won’t matter. It’s April. The English word for the month comes from the Roman Aprilis, the Latin aperire: to open, to uncover, to make accessible, or to remove whatever stops something from being accessible. It maybe also partly comes from the name of Aphrodite, Greek goddess of love, whose happy fickleness with various gods mirrors the month’s own showery-sunny fickleness. Month of sacrifice and month of playfulness. Month of restoration, of fertility-festivity. Month when the earth and the buds are already open, the creatures asleep for the winter have woken and are already breeding, the birds have already built their nests, birds that this time last year didn’t exist, busy bringing to life the birds that’ll replace them this time next year. Spring-cuckoo month, grass-month. In Gaelic its name means the month that fools mistake for May. April Fool’s Day also probably marks what was the old end of the new year celebrations. Winter has Epiphany. Spring’s gifts are different. Month of dead deities coming back to life. In the French revolutionary calendar, along with the last days of March, it becomes Germinal, the month of return to the source, to the seed, to the germ of things, which is maybe why Zola gave the novel he wrote about hopeless hope this revolutionary title. April the anarchic, the final month, of spring the great connective.

What you call ‘Western civilization.’ Do you think it’s just an abstract concept? No, it’s a living force. A collective consciousness that has burned bright for thousands of years. The gods are part of it. You might even say they are the source of it, or at least, they are tied so tightly to it that they couldn’t possibly fade, not unless all of Western civilization were obliterated. The fire started in Greece. Then, as you well know—or as I hope you know, since you passed my course—the heart of the fire moved to Rome, and so did the gods. Oh, different names, perhaps—Jupiter for Zeus, Venus for Aphrodite, and so on—but the same forces, the same gods.” “And then they died.” “Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they’ve ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in Rockefeller Center, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not—and believe me, plenty of people weren’t very fond of Rome, either—America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here.

Gods in The Lost Hero Aeolus The Greek god of the winds. Roman form: Aeolus Aphrodite The Greek goddess of love and beauty. She was married to Hephaestus, but she loved Ares, the god of war. Roman form: Venus Apollo The Greek god of the sun, prophecy, music, and healing; the son of Zeus, and the twin of Artemis. Roman form: Apollo Ares The Greek god of war; the son of Zeus and Hera, and half brother to Athena. Roman form: Mars Artemis The Greek goddess of the hunt and the moon; the daughter of Zeus and the twin of Apollo. Roman form: Diana Boreas The Greek god of the north wind, one of the four directional anemoi (wind gods); the god of winter; father of Khione. Roman form: Aquilon Demeter The Greek goddess of agriculture, a daughter of the Titans Rhea and Kronos. Roman form: Ceres Dionysus The Greek god of wine; the son of Zeus. Roman form: Bacchus Gaea The Greek personification of Earth. Roman form: Terra Hades According to Greek mythology, ruler of the Underworld and god of the dead. Roman form: Pluto Hecate The Greek goddess of magic; the only child of the Titans Perses and Asteria. Roman form: Trivia Hephaestus The Greek god of fire and crafts and of blacksmiths; the son of Zeus and Hera, and married to Aphrodite. Roman form: Vulcan Hera The Greek goddess of marriage; Zeus’s wife and sister. Roman form: Juno Hermes The Greek god of travelers, communication, and thieves; son of Zeus. Roman form: Mercury Hypnos The Greek god of sleep; the (fatherless) son of Nyx (Night) and brother of Thanatos (Death). Roman form: Somnus Iris The Greek goddess of the rainbow, and a messenger of the gods; the daughter of Thaumas and Electra. Roman form: Iris Janus The Roman god of gates, doors, and doorways, as well as beginnings and endings. Khione The Greek goddess of snow; daughter of Boreas Notus The Greek god of the south wind, one of the four directional anemoi (wind gods). Roman form: Favonius Ouranos The Greek personification of the sky. Roman form: Uranus Pan The Greek god of the wild; the son of Hermes. Roman form: Faunus Pompona The Roman goddess of plenty Poseidon The Greek god of the sea; son of the Titans Kronos and Rhea, and brother of Zeus and Hades. Roman form: Neptune Zeus The Greek god of the sky and king of the gods. Roman form: Jupiter

Certainly, we can no longer look upon the canon of Western art - Greco-Roman as revived, extended, and graced by the Renaissance - as -the- tradition in art, or even any longer as distinctly and uniquely -ours-. That canon is in fact only one tradition among many, and indeed in its strict adherence to representational form is rather the exception in the whole gallery of -human- art. Such an extension of the resources of the past, for the modern artist, implies a different and more comprehensive understanding of the term "human" itself: a Sumerian figure of a fertility goddess is as "human" to us as a Greek Aphrodite. When the sensibility of an age can accommodate the alien "inhuman" forms of primitive art side by side with the classic "human" figures of Greece or the Renaissance, it should be obvious that the attitude toward man that we call classical humanism - which is the intellectual expression of the spirit that informs the classical canon of Western art - has also gone by the boards.

The idea that Aphrodite was simply a representation of carnal lust is the product of much later representations of her. In fact, the representation of Aphrodite as nude and sensual in art lost favor amongst Greek artists in the 7th century BCE and only gained popularity again during the Roman period.[42] In the meantime, she was always represented with the finest clothing, and she was most commonly associated with necklaces and long, brightly colored robes such as the one in which she appeared to Anchises.

Aphrodite and Eros brought love and passion to the cosmos, and thanks to them, the Titans and the Gods came together and populated the world. Seeing that she was without a husband, however, Zeus betrothed her to the lame smith god Hephaestus, who fell in love with her deeply at first sight of her loveliness. But laughter-loving Aphrodite found Hephaestus repugnant, and she turned her gaze to the other gods in search of a more fitting mate.

According to Liddell & Scott’s Greek lexicon, the verb form “Aphrodisiazo” relates to both the act of sexual intercourse and also the act of “indulging in lust”. This would suggest a relative consistency with her name and her later character from her earliest appearances in the Greek language. Her

Hesiod’s comments, though certainly a product of a mindset that stretches back millennia, are undoubtedly misogynistic since he says that Philotes and Apate belong to Aphrodite and all women. This point of view is hardly surprising; after all, it was Hesiod who first documented the myth of Pandora, she who unleashed all evil on the world. In fact, prior to the creation of “woman”, humans did not know death. So, on the advent of woman’s entrance into the world, Hesiod writes that deceitful words and death accompanied her too.[49]

Using the same terms Homer uses on the battlefield, he wrote that love has the power of breaking or weakening the knees, and that the look of a woman can have the same effect as a javelin that spills forth “life-blood” onto the battlefield. All of these terms employ the same verbs, and even Sappho, who was known to use Homeric language, used them too. In one of her poems, she wrote that Penelope’s suitors’ knees “are loosened under the charm of love,” a Homeric turn of phrase that is more often used to describe the final fall of a felled soldier in battle.[52]

Though she is the goddess of love, Aphrodite’s part in bringing about the Trojan War cannot be overstated, and it was at the wedding of Thetis and Peleus where the dreaded die was cast.

Paris had heard of Helen of Sparta’s beauty, and though she was married to the warlike Menelaus, he immediately consented to awarding Aphrodite the apple. “Discord” was brought to the Mediterranean. 10 years later, the world was still feeling the effects of Aphrodite’s actions and Menelaus’s response. The Greeks and Trojans had been well matched, and the Greeks just could not bring down the magnificent walls of Troy. Then Agamemnon’s insult to Achilles tipped the balance in favour of the Trojans, and the gods found themselves embroiled in the mire too. Hera and Athena, still furious at Paris’s decision, chose to side with the Greeks, whereas Aphrodite sided with Paris’s countrymen.

Ancient Ways The Greek Isles are divided into several major chains lying in the Aegean, the Mediterranean, and the Ionian seas. The Cyclades chain alone includes more than two hundred islands clustered in the southern Aegean. In the southeastern Aegean, between Crete and Asia Minor, there are 163 islands known as the Dodecanese chain. Only 26 of these are inhabited; the largest of them is Rhodes, where the world-famous Colossus once stood. The Ionian chain of western Greece (named for the eponymous sea) includes the large island of Corfu. Cyprus lies in the eastern Mediterranean, south of Turkey. Today, Cyprus stands politically divided, with Turkish rule in the north, and a government in the south that remains independent from Greece. However, the island has always been linked culturally and linguistically to Greece, and it shares traditions and ways of life with the smaller islands scattered to its south and west. In the Greek Isles, history blends myth and fact. Historians glean information about the early days of the Greek Isles from the countless ancient stories and legends set there. According to Homer, battleships sailed from the harbors of Kos and Rhodes during the Trojan War. A well-known legend holds that the Argonauts sought refuge from a storm on the island of Anafi in the southeastern Cyclades. The lovely island of Lésvos is mentioned throughout the Homeric epics and in many ancient Greek tales. Tradition has it that the god Helios witnessed the island of Rhodes rising mystically from the sea, and chose it for his home. The ill-fated Daedalus and his son, Icarus, attempted to soar through the skies over the magical island of Crete, where the great god Zeus was born in a mountaintop cave. Villagers still recount how Aphrodite emerged from the sea on a breathtaking stretch of beach near the village of Paphos on Cyprus. Visitors must actually lay eyes on a Greek island to gain a full appreciation for these ancient stories. Just setting foot on one of these islands makes you feel as if you’ve stepped into one of the timeless tales from ancient Greek mythology.

Her weapons, even more successful, are tenderness and charm. No creature in the heavens, on earth, or in the sea can escape the magic powers of the forces she mobilizes: Peithō (persuasion), Apatē (alluring charm), Philotēs (the bonds of love).”[55]

but most scholars today believe that ancient Greek worship of her is most closely tied to the ancient Phoenician goddess of love Ishtar-Astarte. Again this ties in with Herodotus’s claims that the “oldest temple” to Aphrodite was in Syria, the home of the Phoenicians, and the character of Ishtar-Astarte corroborates this claim further. Ishtar-Astarte was not only the Phoenician goddess of love, but she was also the “Queen of Heaven”.

After he cut off their genitals, Chronos threw them into the sea, where they floated in a "white foam." Out of this foam‒or "Aphros” in ancient Greek‒sprang forth the first goddess. Just as Eros had been present at the establishment of the first power system, Aphrodite, the more elaborate representative of love and desire, would be present to usher in the next.

From there they marched against Egypt: and when they were in the part of Syria called Palestine, Psammetichus king of Egypt met them and persuaded them with gifts and prayers to come no further. So they turned back, and when they came on their way to the city of Ascalon in Syria, most of the Scythians passed by and did no harm, but a few remained behind and plundered the temple of Heavenly Aphrodite. This temple, I discover from making inquiry, is the oldest of all the temples of the goddess, for the temple in Cyprus was founded from it, as the Cyprians themselves say; and the temple on Cythera was founded by Phoenicians from this same land of Syria.”[27] The idea that Aphrodite was originally an Eastern goddess appropriated by the ancient Greeks at the onset of their great cultural revolutions of the Archaic Period (ca. 8th century BCE) is one that has been corroborated by modern and ancient historians alike.

Here Herodotus can be of some help again. “As to the customs of the Persians, I know them to be these. It is not their custom to make and set up statues and temples and altars, but those who do such things they think foolish, because, I suppose, they have never believed the gods to be like men, as the Greeks do; but they call the whole circuit of heaven Zeus, and to him they sacrifice on the highest peaks of the mountains; they sacrifice also to the sun and moon and earth and fire and water and winds. From the beginning, these are the only gods to whom they have ever sacrificed; they learned later to sacrifice to the ‘heavenly’ Aphrodite from the Assyrians and Arabians. She is called by the Assyrians Mylitta, by the Arabians Alilat, by the Persians Mitra.”[28]

the All was alternately one and at peace through the power of Aphrodite,

There is in fact no Greek equivalent to our barren term 'sex.' This English word in its present usage emerged only in the nineteenth century, out of clinical discourse. Greeks spoke of what we now call 'sex' by referring to gods - Eros and Aphrodite.

Actually, they didn’t have chocolate in Ancient Greece, but Aphrodite was fond of apples. That was her sacred fruit, maybe because it was pretty and sweet, just like her. (Insert gagging sound here.)

Whatever.” “I must see him!” Psyche insisted. “I must help him!” “Oh, now you want to help him. I’m his mother and I have it under control, thank you very much. As I was saying, the most important quality for a woman is beauty. I’ve been so busy caring for my son that I’ve run out of my famous magical beauty cream. I’ve used it all up, and I need some more.” “Wait…you tried to cure Eros with beauty cream?” “Duh!” Aphrodite rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I need more, but it’s out of stock at, like, every store, so I need a proper substitute. The only goddess who has cosmetics I can use without my face breaking out is Persephone.” “The queen of the Underworld?” Psyche’s knees shook. “You—you want me to—” “Yes.” Aphrodite savored the fear in Psyche’s eyes. “Pop down to the Underworld and ask Persephone if I can borrow a little of her beauty cream. You can put it in this.” The goddess snapped her fingers. A polished rosewood box with golden filigree appeared in Psyche’s hands. “Last chance to give up and go into exile.” Psyche did her best to hide her misery. “No. I’d rather die trying to win back Eros’s love than give up. I’ll get you your beauty cream.” “Make sure it’s the unscented kind,” Aphrodite said. “Hypoallergenic. And hurry. There’s a new play on Mount Olympus tonight. I need to get ready.” Psyche trudged out of the palace on her final quest.

Aphrodite complained to Zeus. She was such a sore loser.

The Titan Eos has a really unfair reputation. Essentially the Bridget Jones of Greek mythology, the rosy-fingered bringer of dawn is known for two things: opening the gates every morning so her brother Helios can drive the sun across the sky, and being cursed by Aphrodite with a really shit love life for all eternity. So, while most of Olympus is indulging in endless torrid love affairs and pairing up like penguins, the immortal Titan Eos dates, and fails, and dates, and fails. She’s the original rom-com heroine: forever focused on finding love, wearing shades of pink, seen by all the other gods as a bit of a desperate loser. But, of all the goddesses, I think Eos is the most powerful. Love is a courageous thing to pursue, and to me Eos represents hope, and resilience, and light in the darkest hour. She represents the strength to keep trying, even when you know you’re doomed. She represents new beginnings and refusing to accept defeat. She also represents the ability to change your husband into a cicada when he gets very old and kind of annoying. What could possibly be more inspiring than that?

Even if Helen and Paris had resisted the power of Aphrodite (which Zeus himself can’t manage), then war would still have come between east and west, Greece and Troy, because the gods had already decided that it was necessary. And this idea, that the war was fought irrespective of Helen, is one which ancient writers played around with. Not least, Euripides. In his play Helen, he presents a very different version of Helen’s story from the one we see in The Trojan Women. Helen was first performed in 412 BCE,23 three years after The Trojan Women, which had asked so many unsettling questions about the nature of war and the devastation it wreaks on the lives of victims and victors alike.

All his fellow immortals hate him, from Zeus and Hera downwards, except Eris, and Aphrodite who nurses a perverse passion for him, and greedy Hades who welcomes the bold young fighting-men slain in cruel wars.

Aphrodite was born out of the primal murder of Uranus.

Banish play and laughter from the bed of love and you may let in a false goddess. She will be even falser than the Aphrodite of the Greeks; for they, even while they worshipped her, knew that she was "laughter-loving." The mass of the people are perfectly right in their conviction that Venus is a partly comic spirit. We are under no obligation at all to sing all our love-duets in the throbbing, world-without-end, heart-breaking manner of Tristan and Isolde; let us often sing like Papageno and Papagena instead.

Havna ye heard how the ancient Greeks associated sparrows with Aphrodite, the goddess of love?"... "Och, 'tis no story. 'Tis the truth I give: When sparrows mated, it was due to their abandoned nature." His head inclined so he could whisper a kiss to her neck, sending shivers from her shoulders to the soles of her feet. "Even Chaucer and Shakespeare wrote about the sparrow's lustful conduct.

The connections to the legend of Osiris – and indeed to Christianity – were curious, with the echo of the creation of a new god, and the circumstances of Antinous’ death also echoed the superficial but alluring themes of popular Greek myths. There was Hylas, companion of Heracles and the Argonauts, who was drowned by adoring water nymphs who drew him into the spring where he had been sent to fetch water. There was Narcissus, who under Aphrodite’s curse was fatally entranced by his own reflection in the surface of a pool. Antinous the god joined the company of beautiful boys with powerful, if capricious, protectors, who met strange, watery deaths. Antinous was a perfect divinity for the second-century world of the imagination.

Whatever.” “I must see him!” Psyche insisted. “I must help him!” “Oh, now you want to help him. I’m his mother and I have it under control, thank you very much. As I was saying, the most important quality for a woman is beauty. I’ve been so busy caring for my son that I’ve run out of my famous magical beauty cream. I’ve used it all up, and I need some more.” “Wait…you tried to cure Eros with beauty cream?” “Duh!” Aphrodite rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I need more, but it’s out of stock at, like, every store, so I need a proper substitute. The only goddess who has cosmetics I can use without my face breaking out is Persephone.” “The queen of the Underworld?” Psyche’s knees shook. “You—you want me to—” “Yes.” Aphrodite savored the fear in Psyche’s eyes. “Pop down to the Underworld and ask Persephone

Psyche was sure now that her estranged husband was trying to help her. She loved him for that. Even his falsetto voice was kind of cute. But she decided to play along. “I’m listening, O Great Tower, who in no way resembles my wonderful husband.” “Okay, then,” said the voice. “As I was saying, Aphrodite will create distractions to test your resolve. She knows you are kind and helpful. She will try to use that against you. No matter who asks you for help on your journey, don’t listen to them! Don’t stop!” “Thank you, Tower. If you were my husband, Eros, which of course you aren’t, I would tell you I love you deeply and I’m very sorry. Also, how’s the shoulder?” “It hurts pretty bad,” said the tower. “But I think…” Falsetto: “Towers don’t have shoulders, silly.” The tower went silent. Psyche kissed the parapet. Then she started off on her super-fun journey to Mount Taenarus and the Underworld. Can we talk about this for a second? A lot of heroes have journeyed to the Underworld. I’ll tell you about some of them later. Most were dudes with swords and big attitudes. Heck, I’ve journeyed to the Underworld with a sword

In a deeper tone, it continued. “Head toward the city of Sparta and find Mount Taenarus. At the base of the mountain, you’ll see a volcanic fissure that’s a breathing vent for the Underworld. It won’t be easy, but you can climb down that way to Hades’s domain.” “Oh…okay.” “Before you climb down, be sure you pick up two honey-flavored rice cakes and two drachma coins. You can get the rice cakes in Sparta, or I think there’s a convenience store off the highway around Exit Forty-three.” “Um, all right. What do I do with that stuff?” “You’ll know when the time comes. But listen, don’t let anything stop you until you reach Persephone. My mom will put up all sorts of distractions.” “Your mom?” Another hesitation. The voice went falsetto again. “Obviously, towers don’t have moms. I meant your mother-in-law, Aphrodite.

Aphrodite glared at Demeter and Hera. “I am going to destroy Psyche. No one will get in my way. No one. Understand?” She stormed out of the palace and started her search. Fortunately for Psyche, Aphrodite really sucked at searching. If she’d been looking for her hairbrush or her favorite pair of pumps, that would’ve been easy. But looking for a mortal girl in a world full of mortals? That was hard. And boring. She combed all the cities of Greece, flying overhead in her golden chariot pulled by giant doves. (Which I find kind of creepy. Does that seem romantic to you—getting pulled around by big white birds

told us the burn wasn’t responding to godly medicine.” Aphrodite’s eyes glowed pink with anger. The other goddesses knew they were taking a chance, so why did they risk getting on Aphrodite’s naughty list? Simple. They were more afraid of Eros. They saw this as a chance to get on his good side. Eros was random. He was dangerous. He could shoot you with one of his arrows and mess up your entire life by making you fall in love with an ugly mortal or a pair of bell-bottom jeans or anything. That prophecy about Psyche marrying a monster? It applied to Eros just fine. Everybody was scared of him, even the gods.

of Ford pickups? And the poop those things must’ve dropped…Okay, I’ll stop.) Aphrodite kept getting distracted by sales at the mall, or cute guys, or the shiny jewelry and dresses that the mortal girls were wearing this season. Meanwhile, Psyche kept trudging along, searching for her husband in all the most remote shrines, temples, and LA Fitness Centers. By this point, her pregnant belly was starting to show. Her clothes were torn and muddy. Her shoes were falling apart. She was constantly hungry and thirsty, but she would not give up. One day she was roaming through the mountains of northern Greece when she

We must not attempt to find an absolute in the flesh. Banish play and laughter from the bed of love and you may let in a false goddess. She will be even falser than the Aphrodite of the Greeks; for they, even while they worshipped her, knew that she was "laughter-loving". The mass of the people are perfectly right in their conviction that Venus is a partly comic spirit. We are under no obligation at all to sing all our love-duets in the throbbing, world-without-end, heart-breaking manner of Tristan and Isolde; let us often sing like Papageno and Papagena instead.

(Except me, telling you right now: Aphrodite didn’t give her a chance.)

Who’s the harlot who broke your heart?” she demanded. “I haven’t been disgraced this badly by a mortal since that Psyche girl a few months back!” “Well, actually, about that…” Eros told her the truth. Aphrodite hit the roof. Literally. She blasted the ceiling to rubble with a pretty pink explosion, giving Eros the new skylight he’d always wanted. “You ungrateful little boy!” she screamed. “You were always trouble! You never listen. You mess with everyone’s feelings, even mine! I should disown you. I should take away your immortality, your bow and arrows, and give them to one of my manservants. Any mortal slave can do your job. It’s not that hard. You never apply yourself. You never follow directions. You—” Blah, blah, blah. And on and on like that for about six hours. Finally she noticed that Eros’s face was sweaty and pale, which you don’t normally see with an immortal. He was shivering under the blankets. His gaze was unfocused. “What’s wrong with you?” Aphrodite moved to the side of his bed, pulled back the covers, and saw the festering, steaming wound in his shoulder. “Oh, no! My poor baby!” Funny how a mom’s mood can change like that. She wants to strangle you, then BOOM!—a little life-threatening injury, and she’s cooing about her poor baby.

The "Chasm" mentioned by Hesiod is a synonym for the ancient Greek word for Chaos, and "Earth" is the mighty mother-goddess Gaia, in whom was located the hellish Tartara (or Tartarus), where the Titans would ultimately meet their fate. Interestingly, Hesiod also places Eros, the embodiment of erotic love, at the conception of the cosmos too, thus providing the ancient Greek readers with a foundation for procreation and the lasciviousness of all deities. As a result, the act of creation begins with Chaos, Gaia (Mother Earth), and Eros (Erotic love), but these are no quaint grandparental figures or benign personifications. Chaos was capable of "giving birth" to the most macabre, inherently bleak, and "chaotic" elements of the world, without the need for a reproductive partner.

When Aphrodite saw the girl she’d been looking for walk in, it was the most annoying thing ever—like when you spend all morning searching for your glasses and you find them on your head. (I don’t wear glasses, but my buddy Jason does. It’s pretty funny when he loses them like that.)

Should I also be glad of our unwanted guest?" "Unwanted?" Her eyes widened as her voice rose. "She's the goddess of love, fertility, beauty, and desire. Who could be more perfect for a wedding? Although..." She tapped her lush lips, considering. "She does have a bad side, but you can't blame her. Who wouldn't have issues if you'd been born from the sea foam created from Uranus's blood after his youngest son, Cronus, castrated him and threw his genitals into the sea?" The woman in pink choked on her food. The man with the goatee barked a laugh. Jay crossed his legs, although his family jewels weren't under threat. "She also had many adulterous affairs," Zara continued to her now rapt audience of singles. "Most notable with Ares. So maybe cutting off her head is a good thing." She lifted a forkful of biryani. "Did you know her name gave us the word aphrodisiac? Or that her Latin name, Venus, gave us the word venereal for venereal dis----" Jay cut her off with a raised hand. "Not something I really wanted to think about over a meal.

Later in the day, Holly frowned at her reflection in the mirror. “This can’t be right!” Holly muttered to herself. She looked like a cross between a panda bear and a raccoon. She had tried to apply a more advanced version of makeup than she was used to, and it was not going well. “Smokey eye, my foot! I look like I have two black eyes.” She had not done the proper shading with her eye shadow, and now her large green eyes were encased with a deep black color that spanned her entire eyelid. “Maybe I should try a different one,” Holly mused aloud. She sat in William’s bedroom at his dresser. She already had on her pretty crushed velvet black dress and a small heart-shaped diamond pendant. It had been William’s birthday gift to her last year. “Let me re-read this article again to see if I can make sense of these instructions.” Holly read her magazine article out loud. “Which Greek Goddess are you? Athena, Venus, or Aphrodite? Check out our makeup tips below to turn heads at your next event!” “Hmmmm, that sounds soooooo good, if only I was better at applying makeup.” She had decided to try their Aphrodite look and had been trying to apply the eyeliner to give her a smoky eye effect. Holly had to wash her face four times already and start over because each time was worse than the last. “Concentrate, Holly, or you’ll be late for the gala. This is your last chance; it’s do or die time!” she warned her reflection in the mirror. “So, it says to put the light grey eyeshadow on the inner one-third of my eyelids. Hmmm, maybe that’s the problem. I don’t know where the inner third is.” She got an idea and went to William’s desk. Looking around, she found a ruler. “Ah-ha! Eureka, I got it!” She went back to her position at his dresser and closed her eyes for a quick, small prayer, then held the ruler up to measure her eye. “Ah-ha! Twenty-one millimeters. So, that means the inner one-third of my eye must be from my nose out seven millimeters . . . right about HERE!” Holly expertly applied the light grey eye shadow to the inner third of her eyelids. “What a big improvement already! Wow! I’m not a panda bear anymore! Ok, one-third down, two-thirds to go . . . I can do this!” Reading further, she said, “Ok, now apply the dark grey eye shadow to the next third of your eye, finishing with the dark brown eye shadow on the outer third of your eyelid.” Holly expertly followed the instructions and sat back in her chair, stunned. She looked beautiful! She had achieved the desired effect, and now her green eyes were enhanced to perfection. “Wow, wow, wow!” Holly felt encouraged to keep going. She read the next instructions. “‘Now, apply blush to your face with an emphasis on contouring your cheekbones.’” “‘Contouring my cheekbones? Who do they think I am, Rembrandt?” Holly said with a groan. Holly gingerly picked up her blush container as if it were about to bite her. She decided another quick prayer wouldn’t go amiss. With a deep breath she muttered, “Ok, I’m going in!” She glanced nervously at the picture in the magazine and tried her hardest to follow it along her cheekbones. “That turned out pretty good!” Holly turned her face this way and that, examining it. It may not have been exactly as in the picture, but the blush now accentuated her beautiful high cheekbones. “Whew! Only the lip left, thank goodness! You got this, Holly!” She encouraged her reflection in the mirror.

April was devoted to Venus and Ovid at once invokes this goddess in the fourth book of the Fasti. Aprilis may even have emerged from the Etruscan Aphru, which transcribes the Greek name Aphrodite

all i can think is that aphrodite was born from the severed penis of a god – so what would come of my tits?

There is in fact no Greek equivalent to our barren term 'sex.' This English word in its present usage emerged only in the nineteenth century, out of clinical discourse. Greeks spoke of what we now call 'sex' by referring to gods — Eros and Aphrodite.

Aphrodite of sexual love, Apollo of light and poetry,

Hephaestus felt like he’d been hit in the face with a three-pound club hammer—one of the really nice ones with the fiberglass grip and the double-faced drop-forged steel head. “Cheating on me?” he asked. “Impossible!” “Possible,” Helios said grimly. “I saw them myself. Not that I was looking! But, well, they were kind of hard to miss.” The sun Titan explained that Aphrodite and Ares often sneaked into Hephaestus’s apartment while the blacksmith god was working in the forges. Right there in his own bedroom, they got extremely naughty.

Does love even have a sex? I doubt it. If you are lucky enough to love, who cares what decorative flesh your lover sports? The divine delta, that juicy fig, the powerful phallus, that scepter of state- each is only an aspect of Aphrodite, after all. We are all hermaphrodites at heart- aren't we? The delta is as soft as Aphrodite, the phallus stiff as Ares' spear. And no one wears anything for long but a coat of dust. Only the songs of passion linger

The following, then, were the daughters of Nereus:{157} Ploto, “the swimmer”; Eukrante, “the bringer of fulfilment”; Sao, “the rescuer”; Amphitrite (who, as I shall later tell, became the wife of Poseidon); Eudora, “she of good gifts”; Thetis (of whom I have spoken and shall speak again); Galene, “calm weather”; Glauke, “the sea-green”; Kymothoe, “the wave-swift”; Speio, “the dweller in caves”; Thoe, “the nimble”; Halia, “the dweller in the sea”; Pasithea; Erato, “the awakener of desire” (which is the name also of one of the Muses); Eunike, “she of happy victory”; Melite; Eulimene, “she of good haven”; Agaue, “the noble”; Doto, “the giver”; Proto, “the first”; Pherousa, “the bringer”; Dynamene; Nesaia, “the dweller on islands”; Aktaia, “the dweller on coasts”; Protomedeia, “the first ruleress”; Doris (who, like Eudora, whose name has the same meaning, is also one of the Okeaninai); Panopeia; Galateia (that Aphrodite-like sea-goddess who was wooed by the Kyklops Polyphemos—the enemy, later on, of Odysseus—and was loved by the beautiful Akis); Hippothoe, “swift as a mare”; Hipponoe, “unruly as a mare”; Kymodoke, “the wave-gatherer”; Kymatolege, “the wave-stiller”; Kymo, “the wave-goddess”; Eione, “the snore-goddess”; Halimede, “the sea-goddess of good counsel”; Glaukonome, “the dweller in the green sea”; Pontopereia, “the seafarer”; Leiagora and Euagora, “the eloquent”; Laomedeia, “ruleress of the people”; Polynoe, “giver of reason”; Autonoe, “giver of inspiration”; Lysianassa, “the redeeming mistress”; Euarne; Psamathe, “the sand-goddess”; Menippe, “the courageous mare”; Neso, “the island-goddess”; Eupompe, “she of good escort”; Themisto (a sort of double of the great goddess Themis); Pronoe, “the provident”; and Nemertes, “the truthful”, who in knowing and telling the truth resembles her immortal father.

Another aspect of Aphrodite, with which the buck also must have had something to do, is expressed in such surnames as Melaina and Melainis, “the black one”, and Skotia “the dark one”. In so far as this refers to the darkness that love seeks, this aspect is connected with the aspect already described. But the black Aphrodite can equally well be associated with the Erinyes, amongst whom she was also numbered. Such surnames as Androphonos, “Killer of Men”, Anosia, “the Unholy” and Tymborychos, “the Gravedigger”, indicate her sinister and dangerous potentialities. As Epitymbidia she is actually “she upon the graves”. Under the name of Persephaessa she is invoked as the Queen of the Underworld. She bears the title of Basilis, “Queen”. Her surname of Pasiphaessa, “the far-shining”, associates her also with the moon-goddess. All these characteristics are evidence that at one time there were tales which identified the goddess of love with the goddess of death, as a being comparable to the Venus Libitina of the Romans.

Aphrodite embodies sexuality free of ambivalence, anxieties and self-consciousness, a sexuality so natural and quintessential to her that no myth deals with her virginity or its loss.

The Titanomachy symbolizes the victory of Order over Chaos.” - Niall Livingstone[3] “the Greek word Mythos can indicate, amongst other things, a public utterance expressing the authority of its speaker.”[4] In fact, by the Classical Period, myths were principally instructive, hence Plato’s dim view of these stories being in the hands of anyone but philosophers. Myths helped crystallize beliefs and fashion a means of observing and categorizing patterns in daily life. According to Hesiod, the "Pre-World" was populated by personifications;[5] he painted the picture of the primordial geography of his worldview by dramatizing the personification of those elements he considered primal. This is a perfectly arbitrary folkloric trope, but in the case of the ancient Greeks, the antagonism was infused with strains of uncomfortable duality. Hesiod’s intention was to glorify Zeus, but in doing so, he created a melodrama that would last the ages.

Kypris, if you save those from the pelagos, save me: I founder shipwrecked on the land.

We dare not be original; our American Pine must be cut to the trim pattern of the English Yew, though the Pine bleed at every clip. This poet tunes his lyre at the harp of Goethe, Milton, Pope, or Tennyson. His songs might better be sung on the Rhine than the Kennebec. They are not American in form or feeling; they have not the breath of our air; the smell of our ground is not in them. Hence our poet seems cold and poor. He loves the old mythology; talks about Pluto—the Greek devil,—— the Fates and Furies—witches of old time in Greece,—-but would blush to use our mythology, or breathe the name in verse of our Devil, or our own Witches, lest he should be thought to believe what he wrote. The mother and sisters, who with many a pinch and pain sent the hopeful boyto college, must turn over the Classical Dictionary before they can find out what the youth would be at in his rhymes. Our Poet is not deep enough to see that Aphrodite came from the ordinary waters, that Homer only hitched into rhythm and furnished the accomplishment of verse to street talk, nursery tales, and old men’s gossip, in the Ionian towns; he thinks what is common is unclean. So he sings of Corinth and Athens, which he never saw, but has not a word to say of Boston, and Fall River, and Baltimore, and New York, which are just as meet for song. He raves of Thermopylae and Marathon, with never a word for Lexington and Bunkerhill, for Cowpens, and Lundy’s Lane, and Bemis’s Heights. He loves to tell of the Ilyssus, of “ smooth sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds,” yet sings not of the Petapsco, the Susquehannah, the Aroostook, and the Willimantick. He prates of the narcissus, and the daisy, never of American dandelions andbue-eyed grass; he dwells on the lark and the nightingale, but has not a thought for the brown thrasher and the bobolink, who every morning in June rain down such showers of melody on his affected head. What a lesson Burns teaches us addressing his “rough bur thistle,” his daisy, “wee crimson tippit thing,” and finding marvellous poetry in the mouse whose nest his plough turned over! Nay, how beautifully has even our sweet Poet sung of our own Green river, our waterfowl,of the blue and fringed gentian, the glory of autumnal days.

Aphrodite,” Athena giggled. “You look simply lovely.” The gods couldn’t stop laughing. Soon they were rolling on the floor, wiping tears from their eyes, taking photos with their phones to post on Tumblr

Youths who were most handsome. Adonis, son of Cinyras and Smyrna, whom Venus [Aphrodite] loved. Endymion, son of Aetolus, whom Luna [Selene] loved. Ganymede, son of Erichthonius, whom Jove [Zeus] loved. Hyacinthus, son of Oebalus, whom Apollo loved. Narcissus, son of the river Cephisus, who loved himself.

It is important to note in this respect that Venus, or in her Greek form, Aphrodite, is not a fertility goddess at all, such as are Ceres and Persephone; she is the goddess of love. Now in the Greek concept of life, Love embraced much more than the relationship between the sexes, it included the comradeship of fighting men and the relationship of teacher and pupil. The Greek hetaira, or woman whose profession is love, was something very different to our modern prostitute...In the temples of Aphrodite the art of love was sedulously cultivated, and the priestesses were trained from childhood in its skill. But this art was not simply that of provoking passion, but of adequately satisfying it on all levels of consciousness; not simply by the gratification of the physical sensations of the body, but by the subtle etheric exchange of magnetism and intellectual and spiritual polarisation. This lifted the cult of Aphrodite out of the sphere of simple sensuality, and explains why the priestesses of the cult commanded respect and were by no means looked upon as common prostitutes, although they received all comers. They were engaged in ministering to certain of the subtler needs of the human soul by means of their skilled arts. We have brought to a higher pitch of development than was ever known to the Greeks the art of stimulating desire with film and revue and syncopation, but we have no knowledge of the far more important art of meeting the needs of the human soul for etheric and mental interchange of magnetism, and it is for this reason that our sex life, both physiologically and socially, is so unstable and unsatisfactory. We cannot understand sex aright unless we realise that it is one aspect of what the esotericist calls polarity, and that this is a principle that runs through the whole of creation, and is, in fact, the basis of manifestation.