Deus Ex Ending Quotes

...This type of ending is a special instance of deus ex machina, known as the folie adieu, which is French for "Are you FUCKING kidding me?

You make it sound like the end of the world,” said Pritchard. “Not yet,” Jensen told him, as he walked away, “but you can see it from here.

A bunch of different people appear, and they’ve got their own situations and reasons and excuses, and each one is pursuing his or her own brand of justice or happiness. As a result, nobody can do anything. Obviously. I mean, it’s basically impossible for everybody’s justice to prevail or everybody’s happiness to triumph, so chaos takes over. And then what do you think happens? Simple – a god appears in the end and starts directing traffic. “You go over there, and you come here, and you get together with her, and you just sit still for a while.” Like that. He’s kind of a fixer, and in the end everything works out perfectly. They call this ‘deus ex machina.

...no matter how beneficial a disappearing act might be for me, I could never tear myself away from a show in progress. Even when the plot's tragic ending is apparent to the entire audience. Perhaps there's a deus ex machina that will lower from the ceiling and turn the whole debacle into a romantic comedy. never can tell. Paid the full ticket price, might as well stay.

If novelists truly wanted to simulate the delta of lfe's possibilities, this is what they'd do. At the back of the book would be a set of sealed envelopes in various colours. Each would be clearly marked on the outside: Traditional Happy Ending; Traditional Unhappy Ending; Traditional Half-and-Half Ending; Deus ex Machina; Modernist Arbitrary Ending; End of the World Ending; Cliffhanger Ending; Dream Ending; Opaque Ending; Surrealist Ending; and so on. You would be allowed only one, and would have to destroy the envelopes you didn't select.

Time and time again, as we will see, the brilliant forebears of modern neuroscience abandoned their fierce reasoning skills and, deus ex machina, threw in a spook at the end of their analysis.

Let us end this farce, observer! Give me your final, most beloved act of "will"... The one you most wish to believe was your own idea! "My own... will... I... I believe that this love for Yukiteru-kun... is real!

Communist Romania almost everything was owned by the state. Democratic Romania quickly privatised its assets, selling them at bargain prices to the ex-communists, who alone grasped what was happening and collaborated to feather each other’s nests. Government companies that controlled national infrastructure and natural resources were sold to former communist officials at end-of-season prices while the party’s foot soldiers bought houses and apartments for pennies. Ion Iliescu was elected president of Romania, while his colleagues became ministers, parliament members, bank directors and multimillionaires. The new Romanian elite that controls the country to this day is composed mostly of former communists and their families. The masses who risked their necks in Timişoara and Bucharest settled for scraps, because they did not know how to cooperate and how to create an efficient organisation to look after their own interests.21

A bunch of different people appear, and they’ve all got their own situations and reasons and excuses, and each one is pursuing his or her own brand of justice or happiness. As a result, nobody can do anything. Obviously. I mean, it’s basically impossible for everybody’s justice to prevail or everybody’s happiness to triumph, so chaos takes over. And then what do you think happens? Simple—a god appears in the end and starts directing traffic. ‘You go over there, and you come here, and you get together with her, and you just sit still for a while.’ Like that. He’s kind of a fixer, and in the end everything works out perfectly. They call this ‘deus ex machina.

The hero, Admetus, is condemned to death by the Fates. But thanks to Apollo’s negotiating, he is offered a loophole – Admetus can escape death if he is able to persuade someone else to die for him. He proceeds to ask his mother and father to die in his place, and they refuse in no uncertain terms. It’s hard to know what to make of Admetus at this point. Not exactly heroic behaviour, by any standards, and the ancient Greeks must have thought him a bit of a twit. Alcestis is made of stronger stuff – she steps forward and volunteers to die for her husband. Perhaps she doesn’t expect Admetus to accept her offer – but he does, and Alcestis proceeds to die and depart for Hades. It doesn’t end there, though. There is a happy ending, of sorts, a deus ex machina. Heracles seizes Alcestis from Hades, and brings her triumphantly back to the land of the living. She comes alive again. Admetus is moved to tears by the reunion with his wife. Alcestis’s emotions are harder to read – she remains silent. She doesn’t speak.

Okay, whoever’s there, now would be a really good time to send in reinforcements—a flying elephant or deus ex something or other.” Nothing happened except Kato looking at me like I had burned a few too many brain cells. He didn’t understand, so I tried to explain. “You see, there has to be something. I’ve felt it. I know someone’s up there.” I let go of Kato’s arm and yelled at the suns. The light seemed blurry. “Where are you, Storymakers? Where’s the magic sword in a stone or a lamp to give me new wishes?

Year after year, bill after bill, Wilberforce spent his entire career introducing an endless series of legislative proposals to his colleagues in the British Parliament in his efforts to end slavery, only to have them defeated, one after the other. From 1788 to 1806, he introduced a new anti-slavery motion and watched it fail every single year, for eighteen years in a row. Finally the water wore down the rock: three days before Wilberforce’s death in 1833, Parliament passed a bill to abolish slavery not only in England but also throughout its colonies. Three decades later, a similar bill passed in the United States, spearheaded by another man of conscience who had also spent much of his life failing, a patient Illinois lawyer named Abraham. Deus ex machina? Far from it. These weren’t solutions that dropped out of the blue sky. They were the “sudden” result of long patient years of tireless repeated effort. There was no fictional deus ex machina happening here; these were human problems, and they had human solutions. But the only access to them was through the slight edge. Of course Wilberforce and Lincoln were not the sole figures in this heroic struggle, and even after their bills were passed into law on both sides of the Atlantic, the evils of slavery and racism were far from over. Rome wasn’t rehabilitated in a day, or even a century. But their efforts—like Mother Teresa’s efforts to end poverty, Gandhi’s to end colonial oppression, or Martin Luther King’s and Nelson Mandela’s to end racism—are classic examples of what “breakthrough” looks like in the real world. All of these real-life heroes understood the slight edge. None of them were hypnotized by the allure of the “big break.” If they had been, they would never have continued taking the actions they took—and what would the world look like today?

Tolkien’s final necessary condition for a fairy tale is the joyful, consoling ending of the tale. But the “consolation” of fairy-tales has another aspect than the imaginative satisfaction of ancient desires. Far more important is the Consolation of the Happy Ending. Almost I would venture to assert that all complete fairy-stories must have it. At least I would say that Tragedy is the true form of Drama, its highest function; but the opposite is true of Fairy-story.22 The happy ending of fairy tales Tolkien christens “eucatastrophe” (or, a “good” catastrophe). This sudden “joyous turn” is what we find at the end of so many beloved fairy stories. Cinderella gets to go to the ball when the fairy godmother appears. The frog prince dies and is returned to human form. The woodcutter appears and saves Red Riding Hood. This consoling turn satisfies because it is happy, but also because it is miraculous. It is, in a sense, a “deus ex machina” ending. It provides an escape from the sadness of our own world by way of a kind of divine grace. As Tolkien writes, this happy ending is not mere optimism. It does not say that sorrow and death are unreal. Rather, as Tolkien sees it “the possibility of these [sad events] is necessary to the joy of deliverance.” What the eucatastrophe denies is that evil must prevail. In this way, again, fairy stories reflect a deeply Christian hope. Writes Tolkien, “[eucatastrophe] denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat and in so far is evangelium, giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief.”23 The incarnation of Christ was, for Tolkien, the eucatastrophic turn in all of human history. And the resurrection of Christ, as written in the gospels, was the happy ending that changed the tragic meaning of the Messiah’s death into something that signified hope and consolation.

What they call themselves isn't important. It never was." Jensen shook his head. "The only thing that matters is that we have to stop them. Fight them right to the bloody, bitter end. If not, then one day we wake up and we're living in their future instead of ours." "You make it sound like the end of the world", said Pritchard. "Not yet", Jensen told him, as he walked away, "but you can see it from here.

Do you know what deus ex machina means?” “Well, I think…” began Ben. “It’s Latin for ‘too lazy to think of a proper ending,’” said Leigh.