Aphrodite Made Me Do It Quotes

People expect all stories of abuse to be loud and angry but they're not. Sometimes they're quiet and cruel and swept under the rug.

I wrote my own story And still said all the wrong things.

What brings us together will always be more powerful than what keeps us apart.

love has little to do with blood relations and more to do with who you choose to bleed for

I’m afraid of driving and wanting to crash on purpose.

I'm trying to remember to make room in my life for the person I am now, not just the people I have been.

The thing about embracing your own chaos is that it never becomes clear when you need to stop.

Regardless of whether you desire it, love is what sits at the core of the world. It is stronger than greed and hate and jealousy and pain. What brings us together will always be more powerful than what keeps us apart.

I’m still trying to figure out who I am alone so that I know who I am in front of other people.

My pain has always deserved a voice and I will not deny it that, but I won't devote my life to it either.

It is simple. You believe in the triumphs of love despite growing up in full view of its defeat because you are brave.

Even a match remembers the moment before it was struck.

Not all gods are born. Plenty of us rise.

I'm afraid of never loving someone as much as I loved the last person who broke my heart.

She says, “I thought you weren’t looking for love.” I say, “That doesn’t mean I’m not hoping it will find me.

They made a monster of Medusa as well. Hated how loud her trauma was. Couldn’t believe she had the audacity not to take it lying down. they made a war-ground of her body so she made one of theirs.

You are not required to be small. You are not required to be pleasant. You are not required to be conventional. You are not required to be accommodating. You are not required to be submissive. You are not required to be merciful. You are not required to be quiet.

I’m afraid of not unlearning the bad things my parents taught me.

In Troy they fought over Helen like children but Achilles mourned Patroclus the way a soul mourns a body.

Let me leave you with this: your life is short and all the more precious for it. I do not seek to tell you how to live, only to live at all. to not fear the day. to know you are stronger than what has hurt you. to know that you will triumph.

I had to step back for a while to get to know myself again but now I don’t know how to step forward.

I treat my greatest loves like seeds. I put them down and I seldom look back at what has grown behind me.

Aphrodite tells me that love is like wine. If your cup is already full and you try to add more, it ill just spill onto the carpet. Some people try and try and just stain everything. Their fingers are purple with want

They took my anger. They took my voice. They took my story.

Like everyone called a woman, they say I had no childhood. They say I rose from the sea fully formed, forced to bear the weight of other people’s desire. It’s not the truth, but it’s close enough.

Your abuser's past does not absolve them of their abuse. Their depression does not absolve them of their abuse. Your relationship with them does not absolve them of their abuse. How long you've known them does not absolve them of their abuse. Your love for them does not absolve them of their abuse.

The world was full of men who called themselves heroes for crossing boundaries, claiming bodies like prizes. The world still is.

I am older than the poets and I am older than the pens. I am older than the stars and the ocean I crawled out of.

Accepting this body did not mean convincing myself that it was beautiful; it meant giving myself permission to exist regardless.

When people say you cannot love others until you love yourself, they fundamentally misunderstand love. Nothing thrives in isolation.

Men said she was the perfect vessel for evil to enter the world, but men are the ones who wrote the stories. Men wrote the myths down and called them history, and time has dragged them further form the truth. Pandora's jar became a box. Eve's pomegranate, an apple. All the details change but one: it is a woman with her hand on the door to Hell.

All the details change but one: it is a woman with her hand on the door to Hell.

O’ heavenly mess. Parade of contradiction. You long winter masquerading as spring. You great thawing. Saint of undeserved forgiveness, of longing and of anguish. You peach-bruised wonder.

They wanted you to believe that love is weak, that you cannot curse and kiss with the same mouth. They wanted you to believe that the root of love is romance, soft and wide-eyed. See what they did to my stories? My Temples? My statues? Regardless o whether you desire it, love is what sits at the core of the world. It is stronger than greed and hate and jealousy and pain. What brings us together will always be more powerful than what keeps us apart.

They catcalled me until people couldn't separate my name from sex.

I have this dream where I only write you love poems and none of them have to say, “I’m so glad we’re alive.

I know why Eve stole the fruit. I know why Pandora opened the jar. Can you really say you don’t?

Understanding doesn’t have to mean granting forgiveness. And forgiveness doesn’t have to be a free pass.

You have to let something go. You carry too much in your heart. There's no room for anything else.

Love knows no face. Love knows no gender. Love knows no sexuality. Love knows only love. We waste so much time trying to explain ourselves.

When you fight for what is just, prepare to meet opposition. Remember, it is the good in us that stands in front of what needs protecting. There will always be reasons to back down but there will always be more to push forward.

To stop resenting my mother I had to unlearn the idea that our parents are these infallible beings who always know the right thing to do, and do it. I had to realize that she’s more than a mother. She’s a person with unresolved trauma and she’s scared of being alone and she’s frustrated with existence, just like everyone else.

To sing of love is almost always to sing of war.

All of us are survivors until we are not anymore.

I stand in awe of your survival.

In your name I will take my vitamins and go to bed before dawn. I will respond to my emails in a timely manner. I will grab myself by the throat but I will never let a man do it again.

You forgive your mother for the things she did wrong, because of the things that were done wrong to her. You expect your children to do the same. Everyone’s backs ache under the weight.

love that doesn’t last is still important / not everyone is meant to stay forever / love teaches lessons / love is more than the lessons it teaches / it does not have to be heavy / it does not have to be requited to be worthwhile / no one owes you their time or their affection / cherish your friends and the family you find with them / love has little to do with blood relations / and more to do with who you choose to bleed for / it’s okay to walk away from things that don’t feel right

abridged list of things to let go if you want to be happy: old versions of yourself / ideas about who and what you were supposed to be / other people’s expectations of you / societal expectations of you / gender norms / heteronormativity / internalized ideas about what your life is supposed to look like / the idea that romantic love makes you whole / relationships that cause you more grief than they’re worth / people who cross your boundaries / family that makes you feel unsafe or unwelcome / the need to make your happiness look like everyone else’s

When I say I’m not looking for love, what I mean is: I don’t like losing the part of myself that disappears when I date other people / I don’t know how to let another person touch me anymore / I’m okay with my body when I’m the only one looking at it / I don’t know enough about healing / I had to step back for a while to get to know myself again but now I don’t know how to step forward / I worry it’s safer to sleep alone / how can I possibly love someone right when I was raised with the worst examples?

I’m trying to remember to make room in my life for the person I am now, not just the people I have been.

No one ever talks about the loneliness that permeated Eden.

There is nothing inherently toxic about anger. It is hard not to be angry. There is no reason not to be angry.

you must do the work to make yourself ready to love others well. No one else can be responsible for your healing.

important not to isolate yourself when you’re healing but it’s also important to be able to sit quietly with yourself.

romance never gets to be the biggest part of my story ever again.

When Pandora’s story rst met paper, they did not even have the grace to give her a name before they blamed her for every evil thing let loose in the world

The past is no longer something you have to drag around behind you.

It is never too late to realize you don’t want to be on the path you’re walking. You can never go back but you can always chart a new course.

I wept at what became of my name.

Bad love wanted a sacrifice, so I made myself one. I drank it straight from the tap, wiped my mouth on my palms, picked up a pen, and called myself a poet.

heaven forbid a girl has a body.

I still don’t know how to love a thing even my mother is ashamed to look at, but sometimes I grow out all my wild just to sit alone with it in the dark.

My soft body was a crime in my mother’s house.

The thing about embracing your own chaos is that it never becomes clear when you need to stop.

I was worshipped on the battleeld once. they brought me blood before they brought me perfume. they started wars in my name.

If love is a door I keep closed, will it be a wound I keep open?

You long winter masquerading as spring.

They called me Gravedigger.

There's a difference between running away from your problems and giving yourself the space to figure things out.

You’re made of the same stars as me. You may not have walked fully formed out of the ocean but the past is the past for a reason. Nothing that came before matters unless you want it to.

Beckendorf walked up with his helmet under his arm. “She likes you, man.” “Sure,” I muttered. “She likes me for target practice.” “Nah, they always do that. A girl starts trying to kill you, you know she’s into you.” “Makes a lot of sense.” Beckendorf shrugged. “I know about these things. You ought to ask her to the fireworks.” I couldn’t tell if he was serious. Beckendorf was lead counselor for Hephaestus. He was this huge dude with a permanent scowl, muscles like a pro ballplayer, and hands calloused from working in the forges. He’d just turned eighteen and was on his way to NYU in the fall. Since he was older, I usually listened to him about stuff, but the idea of asking Annabeth to the Fourth of July fireworks down at the beach—like, the biggest dating event of the summer—made my stomach do somersaults. Then Silena Beauregard, the head counselor for Aphrodite, passed by. Beckendorf had had a not-so-secret crush on her for three years. She had long black hair and big brown eyes, and when she walked, the guys tended to watch. She said, “Good luck, Charlie.” (Nobody ever calls Beckendorf by his first name.) She flashed him a brilliant smile and went to join Annabeth on the red team. “Uh . . .” Beckendorf swallowed like he’d forgotten how to breathe. I patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks for the advice, dude. Glad you’re so wise about girls and all. Come on. Let’s get to the woods.

No one can take your story from you if you know how to wield words. Their voices may be many but yours will be honest. You have the power to right wrongs and sing truths. You still have the pen in your hand no matter what you choose to do with it.

stop resenting my mother I had to unlearn the idea that our parents are these infallible beings who always know the right thing to do, and do it. I had to realize that she’s more than a mother. She’s a person with unresolved trauma and she’s scared of being alone and she’s frustrated with existence, just like everyone else. But this is how children are forced to bear the weight of their parents’ traumas. This is how dysfunction breeds its way into family lines. You forgive your mother for the things she did wrong, because of the things that were done wrong to her.

Men said she was the perfect vessel for evil to enter the world, but men are the ones who wrote the stories. Men wrote the myths down and called them history, and time has dragged them further from the truth. Pandora’s jar became a box. Eve’s pomegranate, an apple. All the details change but one: it is a woman with her hand on the door to Hell.

Afer a little time, men did what they always do. They didn’t try to understand, they tried to explain. They made me earthly. They branded me woman. Then they saw things in me that didn’t mesh well with woman. They saw parts of me they didn’t understand and they broke them off. They called me a hundred different names, an epithet for everything. Couldn’t even bother trying to comprehend it all together—that I could be bloody and beautiful, that I could be divine and approachable. Men wrote the stories of my birth as if they were standing on the shore when I was spat up onto it. They picked up their pens and waxed poetic and nobody questioned it. Nobody asked me instead.

and drew her strength directly from our magickal Oklahoma earth. “U-we-tsi-a-ge-ya, it seems I need help at the lavender booth. I simply cannot believe how busy we are.” Grandma had barely spoken when a nun hurried up. “Zoey, Sister Mary Angela could use your help filling out cat adoption forms.” “I’ll help you, Grandma Redbird,” Shaylin said. “I love the smell of lavender.” “Oh, honey, that would be so sweet of you. First, could you run to my car and get into the trunk. There is another box of lavender soaps and sachets tucked back there. Looks like I’m going to sell out completely,” Grandma said happily. “Sure thing.” Shaylin caught the keys Grandma tossed to her and hurried toward the main exit of the school grounds which led to the parking lot, as well as the tree-lined road that joined Utica Street. “And I’ll call my momma. She said just let her know if we get too busy over here. She and the PTA moms will be back here in a sec,” said Stevie Rae. “Grandma, do you mind if I give Street Cats a hand? I’ve been dying to check out their new litter of kittens.” “Go on, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya. I think Sister Mary Angela has been missing your company.” “Thanks, Grandma.” I smiled at her. Then I turned to Stevie Rae. “Okay, if your mom’s group is coming back, I’m gonna go help the nuns.” “Yeah, no problem.” Stevie Rae, shielding her eyes and peering through the crowd, added, “I see her now, and she’s got Mrs. Rowland and Mrs. Wilson with her.” “Don’t worry. We can handle this,” Shaunee said. “’Kay,” I said, grinning at both of them. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I left the cookie booth and noticed Aphrodite, clutching her big purple Queenies cup, was right on my heels. “I thought you didn’t want a lecture from the nuns.” “Better than a lecture from PTA moms.” She shuddered. “Plus, I like cats more than people.” I shrugged. “Okay, whatever.” We’d only gotten partway to the Street Cats tent when Aphrodite slowed way down. “Seriously. Effing. Pathetic.” She was muttering around her straw, narrowing her eyes, and glaring. I followed her gaze and joined her frown. “Yeah, no matter how many times I see them together, I still don’t get it.” Aphrodite and I had stopped to watch Shaunee’s ex-Twin BFF, Erin, hang all over Dallas. “I really thought she was better than that.” “Apparently not,” Aphrodite said. “Eeew,” I said, looking away from their way too public display of locked lips. “I’m telling you, there’s not enough booze in Tulsa to make watching those two suck face okay.” She made a gagging sound, which changed to a snort and a laugh. “Check out the wimple, twelve o’clock.” Sure enough, there was a nun I vaguely recognized as Sister Emily (one of the more uptight of the nuns) descending on the too-busy-with-their-tongues-to-notice couple. “She looks serious,” I said. “You know, a nun may very well be the direct opposite of an aphrodisiac. This should be entertaining. Let’s watch.” “Zoey! Over here!” I looked from the train wreck about to happen to see Sister Mary Angela waving me over to her.

First, I assessed their combat skills. Aeneas performed surprisingly well for a son of Aphrodite; I expected him to be a lover, not a fighter, and yet he actually knew how to use his sword as a sword rather than as a fashion accessory. The other demigods had some work to do. Atalanta seemed to think all training matches had to be fought to the death. She also referred to her classmates as dirty, stupid men, which made team-building difficult. Achilles spent his entire time in combat defending his right heel, an unusual manoeuvre that baffled me until I found out about his childhood dip in the River Styx. I tried to tell the boy to wear iron-shod boots rather than sandals, but he simply wouldn’t listen. As for Asclepius, in one-on-one melees he had an off-putting habit of darting in and feeling his opponent’s forehead for signs of fever.

Perhaps I won’t tire of her,” Gray protested, just to be contrary. Because, apparently, that was how brothers behaved. “Perhaps a dolphin will fly out of your arse. And here’s an argument even you can’t refuse. Grayson Shipping doesn’t need a reputation for delivering damaged goods. You want me to hand George Waltham an impregnated governess?” “I wouldn’t get her with child. Give me that much credit, at least.” “I give you credit for nothing. Let’s try this one last time, shall we? You made me this ship’s captain. If I’m the captain, what I say goes. And I say you don’t touch her. If you can’t abide by my orders, take command of the ship yourself and let me go home.” “Go home and do what? Squander your fortune and talent on dirt farming?” “Go home and take care of my own family. Go home and do what I damn well please, for once.” Cursing, Gray leaned against the wall. He knew Joss would make good on that threat, too. It hadn’t been easy, coaxing his brother out of mourning. Gray had resorted to outright bullying just to convince him to take command of the Aphrodite, threatening to cut off his income unless he reported to London as agreed. But he needed Joss, if this shipping concern was to stay afloat. He’d worked too hard, sacrificed too much to see it fail. And if Joss didn’t become a willing partner, it all would have been in vain. “Stay away from the girl, Gray.” Gray sighed. “We’re on the same ship. I can’t help but be near her. I’ll not promise to refrain from touching her, because the girl seems to lose her footing whenever I’m around. But I give you my word I’ll not kiss her again. Satisfied?” Joss shook his head. “Give me your word you won’t bed her.” “What a legend you’re making me! Insinuating I could bed her without even kissing her first.” Gray worried the edge of his thumbnail as he considered. “That might prove an amusing challenge, now that you suggest it.” Joss shot him an incredulous look. “With some other lady, on some other ship.” Gray raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’ll not bed her. You have my word. And don’t think that’s not a great sacrifice, because it is. I’d have her in two, three days at the most, I tell you.” “Once again-not amusing.” “For God’s sake, Joss, it’s a joke. What do you want, an apology? I’m sorry for kissing Miss Turner’s hand, all right?” Joss shook his head and flipped open the logbook. “No, you’re not.” “Yes, I am.” The odd thing of it was, Gray was telling the truth. He knew he was being an ass, but the joking was easier than honesty. For all his teasing, he hadn’t kissed her hand with the intent to seduce, or to judge if she tasted as sweet as he’d dreamed. He’d kissed her fingers for one reason only. Because they were trembling, and he’d wanted them to stop. It was wholly unlike him, that kiss. It was not a gesture he thought it wise to repeat. That girl did something strange to him.

I almost feel sorry for that man,” Telys’s mother said one evening as we made camp. “I think he loves you very much. He’s breaking his heart over you, child.” “Is that supposed to make me love him? Suppose I did marry him, just because he wouldn’t stop pestering me until I gave in. Imagine that another man arrives, years later, and he’s breaking his heart over me as well. What am I supposed to do then? Run away with the new pest?” I shook my head. “Is love just a matter of badgering someone until you get your own way, like a spoiled child? If that’s so, Aphrodite ought to carry a hammer as a warning.

The stories sought to teach obedience, as if every woman must be mistaken for Pandora.

Men said she was the perfect vessel for evil to enter the world, but men are the ones who wrote the stories. Men wrote the myths down and called them history, and time has dragged them further from the truth. Pandora’s jar became a box. Eve’s pomegranate, an apple. All the details change but one: it is a woman with her hand on the door to Hell.

There is nothing inherently toxic about anger. It is hard not to be angry. There is no reason not to be angry.

Can my art be a healing thing if i only write bout my trauma and not my joy?

I’m trying to remember to make room in my life for the person I am now, not just the people I have been.

Accepting this body did not mean convincing myself that it was beautiful; it meant giving myself permission to exist regardless.

Your healing doesn’t have to be pretty.

May your life be filled with so much joy that you wish you could survive it.

It’s important not to isolate yourself when you’re healing but it’s also important to be able to sit quietly with yourself.

In Troy they fought over Helen like children but Achilles mourned Patroclus the way a soul mourns a body.

You don't have to forgive anyone. But you can.

Every scar is evidence of growth.

Now I spend more time looking forward than I ever spend looking back.

Build a life you’re excited to live inside of and chart a course toward home.

To stop resenting my mother I had to unlearn the idea that our parents are these infallible beings who always know the right thing to do, and do it. I had to realize that she’s more than a mother. She’s a person with unresolved trauma and she’s scared of being alone and she’s frustrated with existence, just like everyone else. But this is how children are forced to bear the weight of their parents’ traumas. This is how dysfunction breeds its way into family lines. You forgive your mother for the things she did wrong, because of the things that were done wrong to her. You expect your children to do the same. Everyone’s backs ache under the weight.

They colored me pink and wrapped me in floral. They scrubbed the dirt from under my nails. They wanted you to believe that love is weak, that you cannot curse and kiss with the same mouth. They wanted you to believe that the root of love is romance, soft and wide-eyed. See what they did to my stories? My temples? My statues? Regardless of whether you desire it, love is what sits at the core of the world. It is stronger than greed and hate and jealousy and pain. What brings us together will always be more powerful than what keeps us apart.

When I say I'm not looking for love, what I mean is: I don't like losing the part of myself that disappears when I date other people

I never needed anyone else to make a place for me. I have run naked through Eden. I have chased the universe to its end.

What brings us together will always be more powerful than what keeps us apart.

Modern Hymn for Aphrodite O' tongue- sharp blade. O' bleeding heart. She of many names given and taken. Lady of the Unknown. Lady of the Daybreak. You bare- knuckled mother. Righteous anger and holy grief. You necessary rage. Born not of the cruel sea but of your own hand. Self-made splendor. Spark of creation. The universe hums in your wake. You leave nothing undisturbed.