Asgardian Quotes

I tossed the book aside. Great. My dad was a D-list god who frolicked in the woods. He was probably eliminated early last season on Dancing with the Asgardians.

I believe that my role as King of the Asgardians…” Loki was quick to interrupt, “You mean you are an Ass Guardian!” Everyone laughed. “I mean…” “Hey, Ass Guardian, what do you make of this,” Loki showed Odin his fuzzy moon.

The form of a servant girl bringing the king and queen refreshments made him invisible in the hallways as he edged towards his father's chambers. He as almost certain that's where Odin would have fled with Karnilla and Frigga. Once he was in the room, the servant girl would likely go unnoticed enough to eaves drop — certainly less noticed than a snake, which had been his initial plan, and which was easier to imitate than an Asgardian. But snakes tended to garner attention — Thor would pick up any serpent to admire it.

For the thousandth time, Haven responded inside her mind, rubbing her temples. She’s not a witch. Ignoring Haven, Ravius spread his wings wide and puffed out his chest, making himself as large as possible as he faced down Demelza. I am Lochran O’Beirne. Greatest Asgardian warrior of old. How dare you challenge me, witch. Bow before me or face

Thor was searching for the thief responsible for stealing one of Asgard's most powerful magical artefacts, while Loki was being sent to smile and nod as humans acted hysterical in his general direction about how they were being murdered by Asgardians.

My appreciation for order and regularity, even if it inconvenienced me, meant I never had much trouble with one of the main traditional objections to Christianity (or any religion that posits a loving God): the problem of evil - the question of how any pain and suffering could be countenanced by an all-powerful, all-good God. Consider the simpler problem of natural evils and accidents (falling masonry, flooding, car crashes, virulent flus, etc.). For God to deliver us from all natural pains, the laws of physics would have to be studded with asterisks specifying all the times that flying, twisted metal would need to flout the conservation of linear momentum to stop just short of breaking our bones. I knew what such a world would look like, for it had already been imagined in the sagas of Norse mythology. In one legend, the godling Baldr prophesies his own death, and all the other gods of the Norse pantheon try to save him. The gods and goddesses of Asgard travel the world, extracting a vow from every natural and created thing, be it bird, plant, stone, or sword, never to do Baldr any harm. Once his safety is secured, the Asgardians amuse themselves at feasts by throwing knives and other weapons at Baldr, in order to watch the objects keep their promises, defy their natures, and leave him unhurt. Blades blunt themselves, stones soften, and poison neutralizes itself, all to avoid inflicting any pain on Baldr. To preclude the problem of evil, it seemed, any god would have to give us the same guarantee afforded Baldr. The world around us would have to warp itself to shield us from the weather, from accidents, from gravity, until the laws of physics were unworthy of the name. There couldn't be scientists or empiricism in this kind of world, since the nature of matter would be too protean for us to gain intellectual purchase on. The problem of evil has always seemed to me to be the price we pay for having an intelligible world, one that we can investigate, understand, and love. If miracles were to be possible, they would have to stay below some threshold level of frequency so that they remained clear exceptions to the general course of causality (as in the case of poor, strange Baldr) instead of undoing the rule entirely.