Brutus 1 Quotes

Jared glared balefully at the old man, his eyes full of the shock and pain of the betrayed. I had only human comparisons for such a look. Caesar and Brutus, Jesus and Judas.

Some say the Tudors transcend this history, bloody and demonic as it is: that they descend from Brutus through the line of Constantine, son of St Helena, who was a Briton. Arthur, High King of Britain, was Constantine's grandson. He married up to three women, all called Guinevere, and his tomb is at Glastonbury, but you must understand that he is not really dead, only waiting his time to come again. His blessed descendant, Prince Arthur of England, was born in the year 1486, eldest son of Henry, the first Tudor king. This Arthur married Katharine the princess of Aragon, died at fifteen and was buried in Worcester Cathedral. If he were alive now, he would be King of England. His younger brother Henry would likely be Archbishop of Canterbury, and would not (at least, we devoutly hope not) be in pursuit of a woman of whom the cardinal hears nothing good: a woman to whom, several years before the dukes walk in to despoil him, he will need to turn his attention; whose history, before ruin seizes him, he will need to comprehend. Beneath every history, another history.

From somewhere above me, there was an irritated hiss. ‘Food.’ I strained my head upwards. ‘Hi, Brutus.’ His yellow eyes stared down at me, unblinking. ‘Food, bitch.’ I sighed. ‘I’ve told you time and time again. If you call me that, I’m not going to feed you.’ ‘Food.’ ‘Give me a minute.’ ‘Food.’ ‘I’d like the chance to get a cup of tea first.’ ‘Food.’ ‘Piss off.’ ‘Food.

But shouldn't they still act like children? They aren't normal. They act like--history. Napoleon and Wellington. Caesar and Brutus.

Eloquence which does not startle I don’t consider eloquence.” CICERO, LETTER TO BRUTUS, 48 B.C.

Pet,’ Brutus repeated. ‘Bitch.’ ‘Don’t be offended,’ I said. ‘He calls everyone that.’ I winked at Brutus

Okay. Parachuting on its own? Maybe not so terrifying. Parachuting into a Mexican jungle at night while strapped to an angry Uchben man named Brutus? An unimaginable nightmare that would haunt my every waking moment for the rest of my life.

How would Caesar have made Brutus pay if he had lived?

it physical To walk unbraced and suck up the humors Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick, And will he steal out of his wholesome bed To dare the vile contagion of the night?” --William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

Is it physical To walk unbraced and suck up the humors Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick, And will he steal out of his wholesome bed To dare the vile contagion of the night?” --William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

See, Brutus, for me, it’s not good enough to just guess as to whether there’s a heaven or how to get there. I’m not going to take Julian’s word for it, or Aaron’s word for it, or anyone else’s word for it. I’m going to find out for myself whether I believe there’s a heaven or not, and then I’m going to spend the rest of my life doing everything I possibly can to get there. We don’t get that long on earth, and heaven is forever, so if there’s anything I can do, anything at all, even if it takes my entire life, then it’s worth it,” Elena said.

Now Brutus had deliberately assumed a mask to hide his true character.  When he learned of the murder by Tarquin of the Roman aristocrats, one of the victims being his own brother, he had come to the conclusion that the only way of saving himself was to appear in the king's eyes as a person of no account. If there were nothing in his character for Tarquin to fear, and nothing in his fortune to covet, then the sheer contempt in which he was held would be a better protection than his own rights could ever be.  Accordingly he pretended to be a half-wit and made no protest at the seizure by Tarquin of everything he possessed. He even submitted to being known publicly as the 'Dullard' (which is what his name signifies), that under cover of that opprobrious title the great spirit which gave Rome her freedom might be able to bide its time. On this occasion he was taken by Arruns and Titus to Delphi less as a companion than as a butt for their amusement; and he is said to have carried with him, as his gift to Apollo, a rod of gold inserted into a hollow stick of cornel-wood - symbolic, it may be, of his own character. The three young men reached Delphi, and carried out the king's instructions.  That done, Titus and Arruns found themselves unable to resist putting a further question to the oracle.  Which of them, they asked, would be the next king of Rome? From the depths of the cavern came the mysterious answer: 'He who shall be the first to kiss his mother shall hold in Rome supreme authority.' Titus and Arruns were determined to keep the prophecy absolutely secret, to prevent their other brother, Tarquin, who had been left in Rome, from knowing anything about it. Thus he, at any rate, would be out of the running. For themselves, they drew lots to determine which of them, on their return, should kiss his mother first. Brutus, however, interpreted the words of Apollo's priestess in a different way. Pretending to trip, he fell flat on his face, and his lips touched the Earth - the mother of all living things.

There, publicly throwing off the mask under which he had hitherto concealed his real character and feelings, he made a speech painting in vivid the cause of her death was an even bitterer and more dreadful thing than the death itself. He went on to speak of the king's arrogant and tyrannical behavior; of the sufferings of the commons condemned to labor underground clearing or constructing ditches and sewers; of gallant Romans - soldiers who had beaten in battle all neighboring peoples - robbed of their swords and turned into stone-cutters and artisans. He reminded them of the foul murder of Servius Tullius, of the daughter who drove her carriage over her father's corpse, in violation of the most sacred of relationships - a crime which God alone could punish. Doubtless he told them of other, and worse, things, brought to his mind in the heat of the moment and by the sense of this latest outrage, which still lived in his eye and pressed upon his heart; but a mere historian can hardly record them. The effect of his words was immediate: the populace took fire, and were brought to demand the abrogation of the king's authority and the exile of himself and his family.

Faust has spent his youth and manhood, not as others do, in the sunny crowded paths of profit, or among the rosy bowers of pleasure, but darkly and alone in the search of Truth; is it fit that Truth should now hide herself, and his sleepless pilgrimage towards Knowledge and Vision end in the pale shadow of Doubt? To his dream of a glorious higher happiness, all earthly happiness has been sacrificed; friendship, love, the social rewards of ambition were cheerfully cast aside, for his eye and his heart were bent on a region of clear and supreme good ; and now, in its stead, he finds isolation, silence, and despair. What solace remains ? Virtue once promised to be her own reward ; but because she does not pay him in the current coin of worldly enjoyment, he reckons her too a delusion; and, like Brutus, reproaches as a shadow what he once worshipped as a substance. Whither shall he now tend 1 For his loadstars have gone out one by one ; and as the darkness fell, the strong steady wind has changed into a fierce and aimless tornado. Faust calls himself a monster, " without object, yet without rest.

After the three of them got back to the Portakabin, while Quill and Ross started to add the details from the manuscript pages to the Ops Board, Sefton got out his special notebook and checked through everything he'd written down about his encounter with...whatever Brutus had been. "I was proceeding in a mystical direction when I encountered a six-foot-two Roman male, with whom I shared a certain sexual tension.

Consider the following dialogue between an instructor (A) and two of his students (B, C) A. What happened in the senate 1 on the Ides of March 44 B.C.? B. Napoleon stabbed Mrs Thatcher. C. Brutus did stab Caesar. In the senate it happened. It was Cassius that stabbed him.

«Los hombres en ocasiones son amos de sus destinos: El error, querido Brutus, no está en nuestras estrellas, Sino en nosotros, que somos subordinados». --William Shakespeare

«Los hombres en ocasiones son amos de sus destinos: El error, querido Brutus, no está en nuestras estrellas, Sino en nosotros, que somos subordinados». --William Shakespeare Julius Caesar

The most loyal are usually the most wicked. It is not our enemies we should look to to betray us, but our friends. For we do not expect loyalty from our enemies, do we? Betrayal is only birthed from loyalty. Look at Judas. And Brutus. And Brad Pitt.

Forever and forever, farewell, John Milholland / If we do meet again, why, we shall smile / If not, why then, this parting was well made”: lines spoken by Brutus to Cassius in act 5, scene 1, of Julius Caesar. He aced the test.

Brutus was dead. His body lay under an oak on the Hendersons' lawn. A small group of neighbors had gathered around his corpse, their faces sad and shocked.

Cassius’s wise and profound words The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.1

Waiting for someone to save them. Expecting someone to save them or at least protect them from the big, bad world. The thing is no one else can save them because the problem is theirs and so is the solution. Only they can get out of it.’ ‘“The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars, but in ourselves that we are underlings.”’ Myrna leaned forward, animated, ‘That’s it. The fault lies with us, and only us. It’s not fate, not genetics, not bad luck, and it’s definitely not Mom and Dad. Ultimately it’s us and our choices. But, but’ – now her eyes shone and she almost vibrated with excitement – ‘the most powerful, spectacular thing is that the solution rests with us as well. We’re the only ones who can change our lives, turn them around. So all those years waiting for someone else to do it are wasted.

The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars, but in ourselves that we are underlings.”’ Myrna leaned forward, animated, ‘That’s it. The fault lies with us, and only us. It’s not fate, not genetics, not bad luck, and it’s definitely not Mom and Dad. Ultimately it’s us and our choices. But, but’ – now her eyes shone and she almost vibrated with excitement – ‘the most powerful, spectacular thing is that the solution rests with us as well. We’re the only ones who can change our lives, turn them around. So all those years waiting for someone else to do it are wasted. I

Our inner lives are eternal, which is to say that our spirits remain as youthful and vigorous as when we were in full bloom. Think of love as a state of grace, not the means to anything, but the alpha and the omega. An end in itself. —GABRIEL GARCÍA MÁRQUEZ1 Since this may be the only life it is sensible to make it full and alive and rich and satisfying —DENNIS BRUTUS’2

One he was especially attracted to was Brutus’s words in Julius Caesar: ‘There is a tide in the affairs of men. Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.

Had she escaped the nightmare of Eden only to have fallen prey to another? God. Please let her be alive somewhere. Please. ‘Gideon?’ Daisy’s voice broke into the turbulent stream of his thoughts. He glanced away from the road, surprised to see a laptop resting on her knees. He hadn’t even noticed her taking it out of its case. Of course, the sight of Brutus curled up in the open collar of her coat was no surprise at all. ‘Yes? What’s wrong?’ ‘Your

I think many people love their problems. Gives them all sorts of excuses for not growing up and getting on with life.’ Myrna leaned back again in her chair and took a long breath. ‘Life is change. If you aren’t growing and evolving you’re standing still, and the rest of the world is surging ahead. Most of these people are very immature. They lead “still” lives, waiting.’ ‘Waiting for what?’ ‘Waiting for someone to save them. Expecting someone to save them or at least protect them from the big, bad world. The thing is no one else can save them because the problem is theirs and so is the solution. Only they can get out of it.’ ‘“The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars, but in ourselves that we are underlings.”’ Myrna leaned forward, animated, ‘That’s it. The fault lies with us, and only us. It’s not fate, not genetics, not bad luck, and it’s definitely not Mom and Dad. Ultimately it’s us and our choices. But, but’ – now her eyes shone and she almost vibrated with excitement – ‘the most powerful, spectacular thing is that the solution rests with us as well. We’re the only ones who can change our lives, turn them around. So all those years waiting for someone else to do it are wasted. I used to love talking about this with Timmer. Now there was a bright woman. I miss her.’ Myrna threw herself

I love your hair." "I like yours. Would you wear it longer, ever?" Gareth had kept it in an unexuberant Brutus for some years. Uncle Henry had not encouraged poetical indulgences in his clerks' appearances. "I hadn't thought of doing so. Would you like it longer?" "It's your head. But I do like something to get hold of." He was growing it out, Gareth decided, starting now.

You know what they say: to get over something, you need to get under someone.” “I remember the saying differently. Plus if I do, I need to be on top of someone, Brutus.” She raised her brow at me teasingly. Fuck, I wanted her. Top, bottom, side, upside down I didn’t give a damn.

Los hombres en ocasiones son amos de sus destinos: El error, querido Brutus, no está en nuestras estrellas, Sino en nosotros, que somos subordinados.”   --William Shakespeare

Ooof! Amy collided at high speed with someone entering the anteroom from the other direction. Her head was still spinning as a pair of capable hands righted her, and a warm chuckle sounded somewhere above her ear. "What an original way to make your presence felt!" "My lord!" Amy hastily stepped back, this time banging into a bust of Brutus that wobbled ominously on its marble pedestal. Amy grabbed at Brutus before he could take a suicidal leap off his stand. "I didn’t…that is…" "Had you known it was me you would have taken care to run into poor Brutus instead?" Lord Richard supplied with a smile of such conspiratorial goodwill that Amy nearly reeled back into poor Brutus once more. "Something like that," admitted Amy weakly. Clearly, she was still slightly dazed from her two collisions.

Los hombres en ocasiones son amos de sus destinos: El error, querido Brutus, no está en nuestras estrellas, Sino en nosotros, que somos subordinados.