Creon Quotes

I was born to share love, not hate”, said Antigone. “Go then, and share your love for the dead”, responds Creon.

Haemon: No city is property of a single man. Creon: But custom gives possession to the ruler. Haemon: You'd rule a desert beautifully alone.

Sentry: King, may I speak? Creon: Your very voice distresses me. Sentry: Are you sure that it is my voice, and not your conscience? Creon: By God, he wants to analyze me now! Sentry: It is not what I say, but what has been done, that hurts you. Creon: You talk too much.

ISMENE: How can I live alone, without her? CREON: Her? Don't even mention her-- she no longer exists. ISMENE: What? You'd kill your own son's bride? CREON: Absolutely: there are other fields for him to plow.

There is no more deadly peril than disobedience; States are devoured by it, homes laid in ruins, Armies defeated, victory turned to rout. White simple obedience saves the lives of hundreds Of honest folk." - Creon

Money! Money's the curse of man, none greater. That's what wrecks cities, banishes men from homes, Tempts and deludes the most well-meaning soul, Pointing out the way to infamy and shame." - Creon

My part is not a heroic one, but I shall play my part.

Creon: See that you never side with those who break my orders. Leader: Never. Only a fool could be in love with death. Creon: Death is the price - you're right. But all too often the mere hope of money has ruined many men.

Creon: Why not? You and the whole breed of seers are mad for money. Tiresias: And the whole race of tyrants lusts for filthy gain.

Creon is not your downfall, no, you are your own.

CREON: Am I to rule for others, or myself? HAEMON: A State for one man is no State at all. CREON: The State is his who rules it, so 'tis held.

I am determined that never, if I can help it, Shall evil triumph over good." - Creon

CREON: Can’t you see? If a man could wail his own dirge before he dies, he’d never finish.

Creon: You consider it right for a man of my years and experience To go to school to a boy? Haimon: It is not right If I am wrong. But if I am young, and right, What does my age matter?

Creon: My voice is the one voice giving orders in this city! Haimon: It is no city if it takes orders from one voice. Creon: The State is the King! Haimon: Yes, if the State is a desert.

You are the king no doubt, but in one respect, at least, I am your equal: the right to reply. I claim that privilege too. I am not your slave. I serve Apollo. I don't need Creon to speak for me in public. So, you mock my blindness? Let me tell you this. You with your precious eyes, you're blind to the corruption in your life, to the house you live in, those you live with- who are your parents? Do you know? All unknowing you are the scourge of your own flesh and blood, the dead below the earth and the living here above, and the double lash of your mother and your father's curse will whip you from this land one day, their footfall treading you down in terror, darkness shrouding your eyes that now can see the light! Soon, soon, you'll scream aloud - what haven won't reverberate? What rock of Cithaeron won't scream back in echo? That day you learn the truth about your marriage, the wedding-march that sang you into your halls, the lusty voyage home to the fatal harbor! And a crowd of other horrors you'd never dream will level you with yourself and all your children. There. Now smear us with insults - Creon, myself and every word I've said. No man will ever be rooted from the earth as brutally as you.

I should have praise and honor for what I have done: All these men here would praise me. Were their lips not frozen shut with fear of you. Ah the good fortune of kings. Licensed to say and do whatever the please." Antigone to Theben's king Creon

I should have praise and honor for what I have done: All these men here would praise me. Were their lips not frozen shut with fear of you. Ah the good fortune of kings. Licensed to say and do whatever they please." Antigone to Theben's king Creon

ANTIGONE: Nevertheless, there are honors due all the dead. CREON: But not the same for the wicked as for the just. ANTIGONE: Ah Creon, Which of us can say what the gods hold wicked? CREON: An enemy is an enemy, even dead. ANTIGONE: It is may nature to join in love, not hate.

I can’t save you, Creon. But I can love you to death while you save yourself.

CREON. My dear, I woke up one morning and found myself King of Thebes. God knows, there were other things I loved in life more than power. ANTIGONE. Then you should have said no.

But this charge I give the city with thee, Creon; if my arms should conquer, that the body of Polynices be never buried in this Theban land; but that the man who buries him shall die, although he be a friend.

ANTIGONE: A sinless sinner, banned awhile on earth, But by the dead commended; and with them I shall abide for ever. As for thee, Scorn, if thou wilt, the eternal laws of Heaven. ... CREON: So am I purposed; never by my will Shall miscreants take precedence of true men, But all good patriots, alive or dead, Shall be by me preferred and honored. ... GUARD: Take it all in all, I deem A man's first duty is to serve himself.

Creon devoted himself to music, ancient manuscripts, long afternoons browsing in the antique shops of Thebes. But now Oedipus and his sons are dead. So Creon put away his books and his antiques, he rolled up his sleeves, and he took their place. Sometimes, in the evenings, when he's very tired, he wonders if it isn't pointless, leading men. He wonders if he shouldn't leave the sordid job to someone else, someone less refined, less sensitive... And then, in the morning, the more immediate problems present themselves, waiting to be solved, and he gets up, calmly, like any workman at the start of a new day.

Eteocles having gotten possession of the throne of Thebes, deprived his brother Polynices of his share; but he having come as an exile to Argos, married the daughter of the king Adrastus; but ambitious of returning to his country, and having persuaded his father-in-law, he assembled a great army for Thebes against his brother. His mother Jocasta made him come into the city, under sanction of a truce, and first confer with his brother respecting the empire. But Eteocles being violent and fierce from having possessed the empire, Jocasta could not reconcile her children.—Polynices, prepared as against an enemy, rushed out of the city. Now Tiresias prophesied that victory should be on the side of the Thebans, if Menœceus the son of Creon would give himself up to be sacrificed to Mars. Creon refused to give his son to the city, but the youth was willing, and, his father pointing out to him the means of flight and giving him money, he put himself to death.—The Thebans slew the leaders of the Argives. Eteocles and Polynices in a single combat slew each other, and their mother having found the corses of her sons laid violent hands on herself; and Creon her brother received the kingdom. The Argives defeated in battle retired. But Creon, being morose, would not give up those of the enemy who had fallen at Thebes, for sepulture, and exposed the body of Polynices without burial, and banished Œdipus from his country; in the one instance disregarding the laws of humanity, in the other giving way to passion, nor feeling pity for him after his calamity.

ŒD. O Fate, from the beginning how wretched [and unhappy] didst thou form me, [if ever other man was formed!] whom, even before I came into the light from my mother's womb, when yet unborn Apollo foretold that I should be the murderer of my father Laïus, alas! wretch that I am! And when I was born, again my father who gave me life, seeks to take my life, considering that I was born his enemy: for it was fated that he should die by my hands, and he sends me, poor wretch, as I craved the breast, a prey for the wild beasts: where I was preserved—for would that Cithæron, it ought, had sunk to the bottomless chasms of Tartarus, for that it did not destroy me; but the God fixed it my lot to serve under Polybus my master: but I unhappy man, having slain my own father, ascended the bed of my wretched mother, and begat children, my brothers, whom I destroyed, having received down the curse from Laïus, and given it to my sons. For I was not by nature so utterly devoid of understanding, as to have devised such things against my eyes, and against the life of my children, without the interference of some of the Gods. Well!—what then shall I ill-fated do? who will accompany me the guide of my dark steps? She that lies here dead! living, well know I, she would. But my noble pair of sons? I have no sons.—But still in my vigor can I myself procure my sustenance? Whence?—Why, O Creon, dost thou thus utterly kill me? for kill me thou wilt, if thou shalt cast me out of the land. Yet will I not appear base, stretching my hands around thy knees, for I can not belie my former nobleness, not even though my plight is miserable.

Why make thy laws against an unhappy corse? CRE. The determination of Eteocles this, not mine. ANT. It is absurd, and thou a fool to enforce it. CRE. How so? Is it not just to execute injunctions? ANT. No, if they are base, at least, and spoken with ill intent. CRE. What! will he not with justice be given to the dogs? ANT. No, for thus do ye not demand of him lawful justice. CRE. We do; since he was the enemy of the state, who least ought to be an enemy. ANT. Hath he not paid then his life to fortune? CRE. And in his burial too let him now satisfy vengeance. ANT. What outrage having committed, if he came after his share of the kingdom? CRE. This man, that you may know once for all, shall be unburied. ANT. I will bury him; even though the city forbid it. CRE. Thyself then wilt thou at the same time bury near the corse. ANT. But that is a glorious thing, for two friends to lie near. CRE. Lay hold of her, and bear her to the house. ANT. By no means—for I will not let go this body. CRE. The God has decreed it, O virgin, not as thou wilt. ANT. And this too is decreed—that the dead be not insulted. CRE. Around him none shall place the moist dust. ANT. Nay, by his mother here Jocasta, I entreat thee, Creon. CRE. Thou laborest in vain, for thou canst not obtain this. ANT. But suffer thou me at any rate to bathe the body. CRE. This would be one of the things forbidden by the state. ANT. But let me put bandages round his cruel wounds. CRE. In no way shalt thou show respect to this corse. ANT. Oh most dear, but I will at least kiss thy lips. CRE. Thou shalt not prepare calamity against thy wedding by thy lamentations.

She gripped the edge of it and glared at Imogen. “I find your attitude offensive. Even in your silly version of that play, one thing still managed to come through, and that’s the critical importance of law and order in civic life. It was the lack of good public order, the lack of adherence to the law that generated all the violence that comes about in that play, not Creon’s irrationality per se.” “Obey, obey whatever the person in possession of the greatest physical force orders?” Imogen’s derisive tone mocked Madeleine. “Law is always better than the violence and selfishness of chaos,” Madeleine said. Law could be repressive, yes: but think of all the evil that the elimination of law would unleash.

Stuckie fascinated me and I loved to imagine him as Creon breaking into Antigone’s tomb, his face contorted into a grimace of need and regret. When I recalled, however, that Reba always refused to go anywhere near the macabre thing, I realized that from her perspective, Stuckie was a sort of canine poor Yorick whose smell probably inspired unpleasant ruminations about a dog’s place in the universe.

Creon stirred next to me, turning his back to me. One of his dark wings came up with the movement and settled over my blankets, a light, reassuring weight pushing me deeper into the mattress. Steadying me – grounding me.

My pattern has been stitched by women, I fancy even more than by men. There were the girls at the village beyond the pine wood, then Perimede who called herself my mother then Hera of the Ford, then dear sweet Hypsipyle, and then Medea. . . . Do I forget the two daughters of Pelias? One with the slashed face, the other with the hanging breast . . . No, those two did not mean much to me, not even as much as that little washed-out fool Glauce, Creon’s brat, for whom I gave my dear sons and my life before all was over.