Aztec Sayings And Quotes

See it was like this when we waltz into this place. A couple of papish cats is doing an Aztec two-step And I says Dad let's cut but then this dame comes up behind me see and says you and me could really exist Wow I says Only the next day she has bad teeth and really hates poetry.

For the English, life is about not happiness but muddling through, getting by. In that sense, they are like the ancient Aztecs. When an Aztec child was born, a priest would say, “You are born into a world of suffering; suffer then and hold your peace.

Mere children, ha!" said Jane. "I say we tie up the knave and then discuss his fate." Since everyone thought this a good idea, Batty and Hound donated Jeffrey's neckties, and soon Bug Man, aka Sock or Spock, aka Norman Birnbaum, was bound hand and foot. Jane, Batty, and Hound then took a few minutes to be Aztec priests calling for blood, until Rosalind quieted them down. Norman was slime, but that was no reason to terrify him. Then came a long discussion about what they should do next... Jane's suggestion of throwing Norman into their basement so that he could dwell on his sins was rejected outright.

We will pass away. I, Nezahualcoyotl, say, enjoy! Do we really live on earth? Ohuaya, ohuaya. Not forever on earth, only a brief time here! Even jades fracture; even gold ruptures, even quetzal plumes tear: Not forever on earth: only a brief time here! Ohuaya, ohuaya.

[Dona Queta] says that her motherly advice is always the same: 'Only whores, thieves, and cops go out at night. Which one are you, asshole?' p. 157

Like the young Aztec men and women selected for sacrifice, who lived in delightful ease and luxury until the appointed day where their hearts were to be carved from their chests, journalistic subjects know all too well what awaits them when the days of wine and roses — the days of interviews — are over. And still they say yes when a journalist calls, and still they are astonished when they see the flash of the knife.

But even among the great traditional peoples, the situation is not different: from China to Greece, from Rome to the primordial Nordic groups, then up to Aztecs and the Incas, nobility was not characterised by the simple fact of having ancestors, but by the fact that the ancestors of the nobility were divine, unlike those of plebeians and to which it can remain faithful, also through the integrity of blood. The nobles originated from 'demigods', that is to say, from beings who had actually followed a transcendent form of life, forming the origin of tradition in the higher sense, transmitting to their lineage a blood made divine, and, along with it, rites, that is, determinate operations, whose secret every noble family preserved, which allowed their descendants to continue the spiritual conquest from where it had previously reached, and to lead it from the virtual to the actual.

I love the word Quetzalcoatl.' 'The word!' he repeated. His eyes laughed at her teasingly all the time. 'What do you think, Mrs Leslie,' cried the pale-faced young Mirabal, in curiously resonant English, with a French accent. 'Don't you think it would be wonderful if the gods came back to Mexico? our own gods?' He sat in intense expectation, his blue eyes fixed on Kate's face, his soup-spoon suspended. Kate's face was baffled with incomprehension. 'Not those Aztec horrors!' she said. 'The Aztec horrors! The Aztec horrors! Well, perhaps they were not so horrible after all. But if they were, it was because the Aztecs were all tied up. They were in a cul de sac, so they saw nothing but death. Don't you think so?' 'I don't know enough!' said Kate. 'Nobody knows any more. But if you like the word Quetzalcoatl, don't you think it would be wonderful if he came back again? Ah, the names of the gods! Don't you think the names are like seeds, so full of magic, of the unexplored magic? Huitzilopochtli!--how wonderful! And Tlaloc! Ah! I love them! I say them over and over, like they say Mani padma Om! in Tibet. I believe in the fertility of sound. Itzpapalotl--the Obsidian Butterfly! Itzpapalotl! But say it, and you will see it does good to your soul. Itzpapalotl! Tezcatlipocá! They were old when the Spaniards came, they needed the bath of life again. But now, re-bathed in youth, how wonderful they must be!

On December 9, 1531, the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared to an Indian named Juan Diego. A carpet of roses blossoming in the dead of winter and a Madonna with a coffee-colored face appearing on Juan Diego’s robe were enough further evidence to convince the local bishop to erect a shrine to Our Lady of Guadalupe. There are those who say Guadalupe is Tonantzin, an Aztec goddess who existed years before Juan Diego came along. The Spanish missionaries, knowing that she had quite a local following,

Quetzalcoatl The serpent dressed in lime-green feathers Is the totem of an Aztec priest. It slithers through all rainy weathers Commanding the respect of man and beast. Who would suspect this mighty serpent For whom the Pyramids were built Was nagged to death by a Jewish yent- a, who filled his goyish head with guilt. Deep in the jungle one can hear The piercing battle cry of Mrs. Katz, who says, 'Nu, take an umbrella; Oy, wear your your galoshes, dear. If you Quetz-al-coatl, who’s gonna take care of you?

It is evident that a man with a scientific outlook on life cannot let himself be intimidated by texts of Scripture or by the teaching of the Church. He will not be content to say “such-and-such an act is sinful, and that ends the matter.” He will inquire whether it does any harm or whether, on the contrary, the belief that it is sinful does harm. And he will find that, especially in what concerns sex, our current morality contains a very great deal of which the origin is purely superstitious. He will find also that this superstition, like that of the Aztecs, involves needless cruelty, and would be swept away if people were actuated by kindly feelings towards their neighbors. But the defenders of traditional morality are seldom people with warm hearts… One is tempted to think that they value morals as affording a legitimate outlet for their desire to inflict pain; the sinner is fair game, and therefore away with tolerance!

FUCK IT, I’M BORED.” “Here he comes.” Theo didn’t even look up when Miles rounded the corner and tossed his notebook onto the counter. “I don’t think cursing is going to help,” she told him. “Maybe it fucking will.” Miles seethed. “I hate everyone in that gym. Pick someone.” “No, I don’t want to play.” “It won’t take that long.” “That’s why I don’t want to play.” “Can I do one?” I raised my hand. “It might actually take you more than five questions, too.” Miles quirked his eyebrow. “Oh, you think so?” “If you get this in five, I’ll be thoroughly impressed.” He leaned over the counter, looking eager. Weirdly, weirdly eager. Not like he wanted to rub my face into the floor. Not like he knew he was going to beat me. Just . . . excited. “Okay,” he said. “Are you fictional?” Broad question. He didn’t know me as well as he knew Theo, so it was to be expected. “No,” I said. “Are you still alive?” “No.” “Are you a leader?” “Yes.” “Was your civilization conquered by a European nation?” “Yes.” “Are you . . . a leader of the Olmec?” “How’d you get there?” Theo blurted out, but Miles ignored her. “No,” I said, trying not to let him see how close he’d come. “And the Olmec weren’t conquered by the Europeans. They died out.” Miles frowned. “Mayan?” “No.” “Incan.” “No.” “Aztec.” “Yes.” The corners of his lips twisted up, but he said, “Shouldn’t have taken so many guesses for that one.” Then he said, “Did you found the Tlatocan?” “No.” “Did you reign after 1500?” “No.” Theo watched the conversation like a tennis match. “Are you Ahuitzotl?” “No.” I smiled. This kid knew his history. “Tizoc?” “No.” “Axayacatl?” “No.” “Moctezuma I?” “Nope.” “Itzcoatl?” “No.” “Chimalpopoca?” “No.” “Huitzilihuitl?” “What the hell are you saying?” Theo cried. He’d cut off a chunk of the Aztec emperors and whittled them down until there was only one remaining. But now he had three questions left—two he didn’t need. Why hadn’t he cut it down again? Surely he could have shortened his options and not guessed his way through all the emperors. Was this some kind of test? Or was . . . was he showing off? “You’re Acamapichtli.” There was a fanatical gleam in his eye, another smile playing on his lips. Both were gone as soon as I said, “Almost twenty. Not quite, but I almost had you.” “I’m never playing this game again,” said Theo, sighing and returning to her homework.

It is interesting to note that, as historians and archeologists discover art and writings from ancient civilizations, there are certain patterns that show up in each civilization’s mythology. For example: Chinese, Europeans, and ancient central and south Americans all have art depicting large, winged lizards, most of which could breathe fire. While it is possible that the idea of these creatures were shared between the Chinese and Europeans, there is no historical evidence suggesting that they had done so. Besides that, it is near impossible that they could have shared this idea with, say, the Aztecs, as exploration into the new world didn’t happen until centuries after the first carvings of the Quetzalcoatl. Each culture portrayed these beings differently, ranging in size, shape, and purpose, but the defining physical traits are still, undeniably and bizarrely, too similar to be a coincidence. While there are some modern theories for this phenomenon, and no physical evidence suggesting that they existed, it still raises the question: is it possible that dragons were real? Another example: every civilization in the Common Era has at one point in their history sustained superstitions that, either through ritual or through improper burial, a corpse can rise from the dead and take the life force of living humans to gain great power. Each culture had their own name for these monsters, but as time has progressed society has been satisfied to call them the same thing. Vampires.

Over the next 300 years, the Afro-Asian giant swallowed up all the other worlds. It consumed the Mesoamerican World in 1521, when the Spanish conquered the Aztec Empire. It took its first bite out of the Oceanic World at the same time, during Ferdinand Magellan’s circumnavigation of the globe, and soon after that completed its conquest. The Andean World collapsed in 1532, when Spanish conquistadors crushed the Inca Empire. The first European landed on the Australian continent in 1606, and that pristine world came to an end when British colonisation began in earnest in 1788. Fifteen years later the Britons established their first settlement in Tasmania, thus bringing the last autonomous human world into the Afro-Asian sphere of influence. It took the Afro-Asian giant several centuries to digest all that it had swallowed, but the process was irreversible. Today almost all humans share the same geopolitical system (the entire planet is divided into internationally recognised states); the same economic system (capitalist market forces shape even the remotest corners of the globe); the same legal system (human rights and international law are valid everywhere, at least theoretically); and the same scientific system (experts in Iran, Israel, Australia and Argentina have exactly the same views about the structure of atoms or the treatment of tuberculosis). The single global culture is not homogeneous. Just as a single organic body contains many different kinds of organs and cells, so our single global culture contains many different types of lifestyles and people, from New York stockbrokers to Afghan shepherds. Yet they are all closely connected and they influence one another in myriad ways. They still argue and fight, but they argue using the same concepts and fight using the same weapons. A real ‘clash of civilisations’ is like the proverbial dialogue of the deaf. Nobody can grasp what the other is saying. Today when Iran and the United States rattle swords at one another, they both speak the language of nation states, capitalist economies, international rights and nuclear physics.

And today, for the first time, we are given a real recipe: making chocolate pudding from scratch. We stir cocoa and cornstarch and sugar together, then stir in milk. Chef guides us step by step and we all clean our stations as the pudding chills. As I'm putting away my ingredients, a little red bottle in the pantry calls my attention. I snatch it up and sprinkle some on my pudding. When Chef Ayden calls us up to test our dishes, I'm the first student to set my bowl in front of him. He grabs a clean plastic spoon and pulls my dish closer to him, leaning down to inspect it, turning the dish slowly in a circle. "Mmm. Nice chocolate color, smooth texture; you made sure the cream didn't break, which is great. And I'm curious what this is on top." He takes a tiny spoonful and pops it into his mouth, and the moment his mouth closes around the spoon his eyelids close, too. I wonder if my cooking woo-woo will work on him. "What is that?" he asks, his eyes still closed. I assume he means the spice on top and not whatever memory may have been loosened by my pudding. His eyes open and I realize the question was in fact for me. "I used a little smoked paprika," I say. Heat creeps up my neck. I hadn't even thought about what would happen if I used an ingredient that wasn't in the original recipe. "You trying to show off, Emoni?" Chef Ayden asks me very, very seriously. "No, Chef. I wasn't." "The ancient Aztecs too would pair chocolate with chipotle and cayenne and other spices, although it is not so common now. Why'd you add it?" "I don't know. I saw it in the pantry and felt the flavors would work well together." He takes another spoonful. Chef told us from the beginning that since every student is evaluated, he would very rarely take more than one bite of any single dish. I'm surprised he does so now, but he closes his eyes again as if the darkness behind his lids will help him better taste the flavors. His eyes pop open. "This isn't bad." He drops his spoon. "Emoni, I think creativity is good. And this, this..." He gives a half laugh like he's surprised he doesn't know what to say. He clears his throat and it seems almost like a memory has him choked up.

been unimaginable to folks a century ago.” “Real socialism has never been tried,” Abby asserted. “Those were unsuccessful and flawed attempts.” “Would you say the Aztecs never practiced real human sacrifice,” Dad asked dryly, “because they never did get their crops to grow reliably no matter how much blood they shed?

Yet another story, also spread by word of mouth, says that the immediate bloodline successor to the tlahtoani’s throne, Cuitlahuac, refused to obey the command to surrender and secretly ordered Mohtecutzoma’s assassination. As the tlahtoani, he then ordered the Mexihca and their allies to attack. There was only one battle, the Night of Sorrows, in which the conquistadores and their native allies were brutally defeated, and Hernán Cortez, leader of the Spanish army, was forced to retreat from Tenochtitlan, now known as Mexico City. It is said that he mourned the defeat under a tree. Nevertheless, Mohtecutzoma’s prophetic dream was destined to be fulfilled. The Spaniards were infected with smallpox, a disease that didn’t exist in Mexico at that time, and many of their corpses fell into the lagoon surrounding Tenochtitlan. The Aztec warriors washed their wounds in this water and were infected with the disease. Cuitlahuac was the first to die. Once all his men had followed him, the Aztecs were helpless — there were no more warriors who could save Mexico from its destiny. Tenochtitlan was left in the hands of a young tlahtoani, Cuauhtémoc, while the Spaniards and their allies regrouped and came back with a new army. After witnessing his predecessor’s dream come true, Cuauhtémoc spent this time not on defence but on hiding the treasure of Mexico. Ancient codices, together with a vast number of sacred stones, were buried at several sites, including Tula and Teotihuacan. Many of these treasures have not yet been found, but according to tradition some will come to light soon, and then the true story will be known.

Where have you been?" he asked slowly. "Um, in the bathroom, mostly," Larry said. Let's just say my plumbing is not working any better than Mexico City's.

No time for jokes," Nakamura said. "Is Neil there?" "Let's just say I'm Sleeping Beauty's personal assistant right now." "I guess that makes you Waking Ugly?" "I thought you said this was no time for jokes. That was a joke, right?

Randy says, “You asked me earlier what is the highest and best purpose to which we could dedicate our lives. And the obvious answer is ‘to prevent future Holocausts.’ ” Avi laughs darkly. “I’m glad it’s obvious to you, my friend. I was beginning to think I was the only one.” “What!? Get over yourself, Avi. People are commemorating the Holocaust all the time.” “Commemorating the Holocaust is not, not not not not not, the same thing as fighting to prevent future holocausts. Most of the commemorationists are just whiners. They think that if everyone feels bad about past holocausts, human nature will magically transform, and no one will want to commit genocide in the future.” “I take it you do not share this view, Avi?” “Look at Bosnia!” Avi scoffs. “Human nature doesn’t change, Randy. Education is hopeless. The most educated people in the world can turn into Aztecs or Nazis just like that.” He snaps his fingers. “So what hope is there?” “Instead of trying to educate the potential perpetrators of holocausts, we try to educate the potential victims. They will at least pay some fucking attention.

I’ve always liked Greek and Roman mythology,” I say. “I can do Apollo and Helios.” “I can do Norse mythology,” Blaze says. “And Egyptian.” “I’ll take Aztec and Mayan,” Morgan volunteers. “That works.” Damien glances around the chamber. “I’ll focus on Hindu and Japanese.

Hummingbirds lead from here to there the thoughts of men,” one Aztec saying goes. “If someone intends good to you, the hummingbird takes that desire all the way to you.” In my experience, hummingbirds have played all of those roles—helper, healer, messenger, bringer of love—except with a twist: These special creatures are frequently messengers from the Other Side.

Aztlán: The mythical birthplace of the Aztecs. Chicanos use this term to describe the southwest United States. Chicanos are idiots. Citlali says Aztlán is somewhere in Ohio.

The Aztecs located the Templo Mayor and surrounding sacred precinct – by far the grandest and most powerful nepantla-middled ritual time-place stretched out and put in place by human beings – at tlallinepantla (“in the middle of the earth”).159 Tlallinepantla coincided with the center of the earth (tlalli olloco),160 the navel of the earth (tlalxicco), the crossroads of the horizontal forces of the Fifth Sun-Earth Ordering, the confluence of vertical malinalli-twisting-spinning forces that ascend from below and descend from above the earth, and the axis mundi. Here is the meeting point of the four roads created by the four sons of Tonacatecuhtli~Tonacacihuatl (each associated with one of four intercardinal directions).161 In so doing, they arranged the earth into four quadrants and a center. Here, too, is the time-place defined by the crossing of two springs, red and blue (or yellow), on a small island in the middle of Lake Texcoco. Mendieta describes their crossing as formada a manera de una aspa de san Andrés (“shaped like a Saint Andrew’s cross”).162 Hernando Alvarado Tezozomoc likewise describes a spot defined by two springs intersecting one another. Van Zantwjik, Berdan and Anawalt, and Heyden read Tezozomoc as claiming the two springs are Tleatl-Atlatlayan (“Fire Water, Place of Burning Water”) and Matlalatl-Toxpalatl (“Dark Blue Water, Yellow Water”). The former ran from east to west, the latter, from north to south, and so they crossed one another.163 López Austin and López Lujan, however, read Tezozomoc as identifying the two intersecting springs as Matlalatl (“Dark Blue Water) and Toxpalatl (“Yellow Water”).164 Either way, their intersecting divides the island into four quadrants and forms the St. Andrew’s cross depicted in Codex Mendoza, fol. 2r. Dúran says the Aztecs found the sight of yellow and blue streams “espanto” (“frightening, terrifying, astonishing, awesome”).165 Next to this spot was where an eagle perched upon a prickly pear cactus. Lastly, here, too, the Aztecs constructed their Huey Tocalli. After building their first temple at the site, the Aztecs ordered the surrounding area divided into four quarters, with the Huey Teocalli at their intersection. The roads of Tepeyac, Itztapalapa, and Tlacopan, which arranged the city into four quadrants and served as communication routes between the island and the surrounding lake shores, intersected at the Huey Teocalli, forming a grand human-constructed crossroads with the Huey Tecocalli at its center.166 All of these crossings and intersectings coincided with one another as well as with the center of the earth, the navel of the earth, and the axis mundi. Codex Mendoza (fol. 2r) depicts the founding of Tenochtitlan at this nepantla-middled, nepantla-intersecting time-place (see Figure 4.10).

Borges - his blind face like an Aztec woman's, that old shyster of metaphor, across whose open eyes pass flashes of magnesium without affecting him. The blind always seem to be holding their heads out of water. Yet they are gifted in unreality and cunning. I am sure he knows down to ten people how many are there to hear him, simply by listening, by sensing. The lecture is hopeless, but it is a sacrificial ceremony. The listeners are overwhelmed by the intelligence of this man whose cunning ploy is to make it seem as though he were speaking from beyond the grave, as if he were already dead. His muffled, syncopated, barely audible voice condemns the others to silence in the same way as he is condemned to the night. All the metaphors he uses are those of the night, including the thousand and first night, the finest since it is one added to eternity. He is without doubt also in his eighty-four-and-first year - i.e. he has one foot in eternity. There reigns all about him an ironic and cruel affectation. I don't know what animal he resembles. He has a soft spot for the tiger. Put a tiger in your liltrary and take away its sight: that's Borges. In this vegetation of Californian academics' soft encephalons, his silences carve lethal spirals. Since he can no longer see the world, he quotes it. His speech is one long quotation. ' Life itself is a quotation ', he says.

Fortunately for readers and writers alike, human nature guarantees that willing subjects will never be in short supply. Like the young Aztec men and women selected for sacrifice, who lived in delightful ease and luxury until the appointed day when their hearts were to be carved from their chests, journalistic subjects know all too well what awaits them when the days of wine and roses-- the days of the interviews-- are over. And still they say yes when a journalist calls, and still they are astonished when they see the flash of the knife.