Beast Titan Quotes

I may not be smart enough to do everything, but I am dumb enough to try anything.

Babcock fidgeted with one of his cufflinks while staring down the remaining brokers in his office. He then delivered something akin to a pep talk in a severe tone. "... The world depends on our services. Services that must not be impeded. We don't break our backs producing things that have no real value—food, shelter, clothes ... art. No! We're titans of finance. We move intangible things and ideas around the world on digital platforms. No one else in the world can accumulate as much wealth as we do by simply moving around one and zeros on computers.

If it weren't for dreams," he said. "I wouldn't know half the things I know about the future. They're better than Olympus tabloids." He cleared his throat then held up his hands dramatically: "Dreams like a podcast, Downloading truth in my ears. They tell me cool stuff" "Apollo?" I guessed, because I figured nobody else could make a haiku that bad. He put his finger to his lips, "[Shh] I'm incognito. Call me Fred.

There’s something I need to know, okay?” I lifted my chin, grinning slight. “Yes, you’re a sexy beast.” “I know that already,” he said dryly. “But that’s not what I’m asking.

Humanity one chooses. Men who choose inhumanity are merely upright beasts.

No—not the memory of his father but the fallout, the waves of loneliness, the sense of inadequacy, the pervasive, enduring gloom. The tiptoeing, the perilous sense that at any moment he might step wrong, might cause something to break, might awaken the beast inside his father’s chest. Might summon to life the titan who ruled over his happiness, who dwarfed his own diminished sense of self. He felt the acrid sense of fear, the thought that was not really a thought, but just the heightened sense of run. That fight-or-flight, bitter and rancid. The rage in his heart, thud-thudding with his pulse. The fear that his anger was inherited. That his own soul, like his father’s, was flawed.

But I will not allow you to be put down. You aren’t done with this life yet, little badass. You just got a big old beast put inside you, and you have to learn how to work with her.” “How?” “With support. You have Samuel and Red Havoc. And first and foremost, you have me for as long as you want. For every breath, every smile, every tear, I’ll be here right here beside you. Leaving didn’t fix anything for either of us. It hurt She-Devil, it hurt you, it hurt me, it hurt Titan. I tried to let you go so you could have a better life, but it didn’t take. So, this is where we dig our toes in against the hurricane that is your monster kitty and walk through the damn storm together. Deal? No quitting. I won’t let you.

I don’t know if you’ve spent time in the Catskills. From a distance, say, the parking lot of the old Caldor’s (which became an Ames that became a Stop ‘N’ Shop) in Huguenot, they’ve always made me think of a herd of giant animals, all standing grazing on the horizon. Up close, when you’re driving among them with the early morning light breaking over their round peaks, they seem incredibly present, more real than real, these huge solid heaps of rock that wear their trees like mile-long scarves. You glance at them, trying to keep your eyes on the road, which is already pretty busy with people driving up for a weekend getaway, and somehow you wouldn’t be surprised if the mountain closest to you were to cast off its trees in one titanic shrug and start to lumber away, a vast, unimaginable beast. When you turn off onto whatever secondary road you need to take, and you’re following its twists and turns back into the mountains, and the ground is steep to either side of you, opening every now and then on a meadow, or an old house, you think, Here, there are secret places. Well,

Come on, let's get you an apron." There probably wasn't any real point in making him wear something over his fur and ragged clothes. Still, she tied a tablecloth up and around his neck, trying not to make him look ridiculous. Actually, if the thick white cloth had leather straps, he could easily be Hephaestus or one of his titan helpers working the forge on Olympus. But they were going to make ratatouille, not swords for heroes. "...And buckwheat crepes, and an onion tart, and coq au... um... Riesling, in a skillet," she added thoughtfully, looking at the time. The clock in the kitchen didn't talk, thankfully. "We don't have time for a true coq au vin or cassoulet. Oooh, and a tarte tatin for dessert!

Seth lifted his left hand and several plates flew from the cabinet, settling gently on the counter like something straight out of Beauty and the Beast. “Show off,” muttered Alex.

M" Mnemosyne’s silent M drives me to the dictionary Her baby sister makes an n run. Youth does not tarry Those diaphanous, luminescent water jellies, Mnemiopsis, small as sneezes, I can only conjure as Knee me up, Sis Spelling? Easier to recall these beauties as invasive carnivorous, cannibalistic, and hermaphroditic (They eat each other and fuck themselves) Mnemonic is a device that helps me remember birthdays and phone numbers of those I no longer love but can recall in traces Or how to sequence pi to a thousand places as Guinness names me a mnemonist. Or my own birthday because my mother died the day before Just a handful of words end in mn, and the soul they limn: autumn, solemn, damn, condemn, the a capella hymn But hundreds contain mn. A standout: that Jurassic cephalopod, belemnite, long gone, yet its name and phallic fossil live on And should those Siamnese twins stand at the head, they’re led by a vowel that takes m by the hand and leaves n to bed another syllable. Amnesia. You are what you forget Still, the mother of all muses has a name hard to set Mnemiopsis, mnemonist, mnemonic, Mnemosyne— such elegance I should be able to recall: these words all begin with silence Perhaps her name once began with A: Out one day, bathing carefree in the Aegean, she fell for a creature she could feel but not see— say, a tentacled jelly—got entangled with the beast, lost the A, Tore her chiton, and returned in disarray Zeus said, Where’s the A I gave you on the birth of Calliope? She, recalling his trysts, yet savoring her berth, wanted no scene Saw in backward glance, the gem wedged in coral’s gritty teeth A’s so plebeian. Words are rife. Alcmene, Europa, Hera, adultery Few can spell my name yet spell I cast when lives are spent I am the Titan Mnemosyne, Goddess of All Memory, and off she went leaving Zeus to rue her gift and curse Yet wise manager, was hers not the golden purse?

Immediately beneath and about them the lines of the Gothic building plunged outwards into the void with a sickening swiftness akin to suicide. There is that element of Titan energy in the architecture of the Middle Ages that, from whatever aspect it be seen, it always seems to be rushing away, like the strong back of some maddened horse. This church was hewn out of ancient and silent stone, bearded with old fungoids and stained with the nests of birds. And yet, when they saw it from below, it sprang like a fountain at the stars; and when they saw it, as now, from above, it poured like a cataract into a voiceless pit. For these two men on the tower were left alone with the most terrible aspect of Gothic; the monstrous foreshortening and disproportion, the dizzy perspectives, the glimpses of great things small and small things great; a topsy-turvydom of stone in the mid-air. Details of stone, enormous by their proximity, were relieved against a pattern of fields and farms, pygmy in their distance. A carved bird or beast at a corner seemed like some vast walking or flying dragon wasting the pastures and villages below. The whole atmosphere was dizzy and dangerous, as if men were upheld in air amid the gyrating wings of colossal genii; and the whole of that old church, as tall and rich as a cathedral, seemed to sit upon the sunlit country like a cloudburst.

Three.

But soon he stopped short: a giant, three-headed dog was blocking his path, growling and gnashing its huge white teeth, long and sharp as a warrior’s dagger. This was Cerberus, the guardian of the gates of Hades, offspring of the Titans Echidna and Typhon. But Orpheus did not fear the great dog: again, he took up his lyre and he sang, this time a soothing lullaby, and soon the great beast’s eyes began to close, and it swayed, and then fell to the floor, fast asleep.

The list of Hollywood blockbusters that conform to the hero’s journey paradigm is almost innumerable. Just off the top of my head? The Wizard of Oz; The Matrix; Jaws; the Star Wars films; Titanic; Braveheart; the Harry Potter series; Rocky; The Lord of the Rings; The Lion King; Finding Nemo; Forrest Gump; The Incredibles; Silence of the Lambs; Mulan; Gladiator; Aladdin; Indiana Jones; Beauty and the Beast; and Dances with Wolves/Avatar (watch them back-to-back).

Then trembling yet through feare, the Squire bespake, That Geauntesse Argante is behight, A daughter of the Titans which did make Warre against heauen, and heaped hils on hight, To scale the skyes, and put Ioue from his right: Her sire Typhœus was, who mad through merth, And drunke with bloud of men, slaine by his might, Through incest, her of his owne mother Earth Whilome begot, being but halfe twin of that berth. For at that berth another Babe she bore, To weet the mighty Ollyphant, that wrought Great wreake to many errant knights of yore, And many hath to foule confusion brought. These twinnes, men say, (a thing far passing thought) Whiles in their mothers wombe enclosd they were, Ere they into the lightsome world were brought, In fleshly lust were mingled both yfere, And in that monstrous wise did to the world appere. So liu’d they euer after in like sin, Gainst natures law, and good behauioure: But greatest shame was to that maiden twin, Who not content so fowly to deuoure Her natiue flesh, and staine her brothers bowre, Did wallow in all other fleshly myre, And suffred beasts her body to deflowre: So whot she burned in that lustfull fyre, Yet all that might not slake her sensuall desyre. But ouer all the countrey she did raunge, To seeke young men, to quench her flaming thurst, And feed her fancy with delightfull chaunge: Whom so she fittest finds to serue her lust, Through her maine strength, in which she most doth trust, She with her brings into a secret Ile, Where in eternall bondage dye he must, Or be the vassall of her pleasures vile, And in all shamefull sort him selfe with her defile.

He was staring down at her and she started anew at the vision of the man; he was without his helm and it was her first clear glimpse of him.  He had a granite jaw and long nose, and was relatively young and unmarred for one with such a ghastly reputation.  His dual-colored eyes were still unnerving and dark brows arched intelligently over them. His hair, unrestrained by the helm, felt to his shoulders in a slick, dark sheet that reflected the light like a raven’s wing. He was not unhandsome in the least and that surprised her.  For a man of such reputation, she had expected a beast.

The glove on his face felt like heaven. That corner of heaven that he told her about.  Unwilling to show any emotion in front of his men, especially in light of the confusion they had shown over burying the enemy army, he simply turned her towards the palfrey and lifted her effortlessly into the saddle.  Then he moved to his silver charger, a menacing beast with big scars and gnashing teeth.  Mounting, he lifted his hand to Amadeo, who bellowed the command to move out.

I think I finally know.

took a short break for a different underwater quest that probably drove my more traditional colleagues crazy: I helped National Geographic on an article about the Loch Ness monster. Emory Kristof said I should apply my scientific know-how to the hunt for this mythical beast, and I thought, Why not? There were good reasons to take up the challenge. I had never seen the Scottish Highlands, and this was a chance for Margie and me to do it on someone else’s nickel. We also needed the money that the Geographic project would provide. And, honestly, sometimes it helps not to take yourself too seriously—or so I told myself.

I seriously considered transmogrifying into an ender wraith or a titan beast and slapping Herobrine around, but the room was a bit small and that would accomplish nothing other than Herorbine having a vendetta against me. I decided against it. Maybe I really was getting more mature?

Black Studies guru Houston Baker has defended rap music in the same terms. “Rap is like a rich stock garnered from the sudden simmering of titanic B-boy/B-girl energies. Such energies were diffused over black cityscapes.” Baker also describes the same energy in “wilding,” and in the murderous mass rape of a white female jogger in Central Park in 1987, as the vital overthrow of the white man’s attempt to tame nature by constructing a park in the first place. Just as in The Genealogy of Morals Nietzsche’s blond beast emerges “from a disgusting procession of murder, arson, rape, and torture, exhilarated and undisturbed of soul, as if it were no more than a student’s prank,” so do young blacks joyfully bring the reality of terror to the white power structure (as Nietzsche wrote, “That lambs dislike great birds of prey does not seem strange”).56

singer,

♪ Go, Teen Titans, go Go, Teen Titans, go ♪ Go, Teen Titans, go Go, go, go, go, go ♪ T-double-E-N-T-I-T-A-N-S ♪ We the real heroes Takin' down the big menace ♪ Teen Titan flows ♪ Teen Titan knows ♪ Where there's real trouble, baby ♪ Teen Titans go ♪ Go, Teen Titans, go Go, Teen Titans, go Ugh. Morons. ♪ Beast Boy I can turn straight up into an animal ♪ Animal? ♪ Animal? ♪ Yes, any animal ♪ Boom, pow Yeah, I'm a kitten now Aw! ♪ Check out my kitten meow ♪ The star, the fire The live, the wire ♪ The alien princess in my alien attire ♪ The energy blasts The supersonic speed ♪ Is she down with the Titans? ♪ Oh, the yes indeed ♪ Booyah, booyah Go my cannon blaster ♪ Cyborg, whoo, baby Mr. High Tech Master ♪ What, what, what? ♪ Mr. Meatball Disaster ♪ What, what, what? ♪ Mr. Boom Boom Blaster ♪ Teen Teen Titans The Titans, the Teen Titans ♪ Teen Teen Titans The Titans, the Teen Titans ♪ Teen Teen Titans The Titans, the Teen Titans ♪ Teen Teen Titans The Titans, the Teen Titans ♪ Boom with the smoke bombs and birdarangs ♪ Bow staff hittin' steady Doin' my thang ♪ Robin, Robin, the leader Robin, Robin, in charge ♪ Show 'em your baby hands! ♪ No Robin, Robin's are large Nah, but for real, man. Those some super-small baby hands. No, they're not. Whatever. Just keep going, just keep going! ♪ Go, Teen Titans, go Go, Teen Titans, go ♪ Go, Teen Titans, go Go, Teen Titans, go ♪ Raven is here to drop it On you even harder ♪ There's no darker than me I'm as dark as can be ♪ Check it Azarath Metrion Zinthos ♪ Teleportin', magical powers We adios ♪ Teen Teen Titans The Titans, the Teen Titans ♪ Teen Teen Titans, the Titans The Teen Titans ♪ Teen Titans Go! ♪

Yeah, yeah, I hear you, Beastie. Loud and clear, loud