Elder Scrolls Quotes

Getting my shit kicked in by a clan of Jewish boarding school kids for referring to the Torah as "The Elder Scroll".

I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing. I fight… because I must.

When life gives you lemons, go murder a clown.

Anger was beautiful, because its core was the absence of all doubt. When anger wrapped you up in yourself and you knew that you were right and righteous—that the very universe was in agreement with you—at that moment you were a god, and anyone who crossed you or disagreed with you was worse than wrong, they were heretics, apostates, twisted in the very womb.

Growing old is humbling and it takes effort to accomplish this stage of life with dignity.

.. Look, I know you're probably mad at me-" "'Probably' mad at you?" Annaïg exploded. "You tried to kill me!" "Yes, I see now how that might upset you," Slyr said.

Might-have and mud are fine places to wallow

8And when he had taken the scroll, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders q fell down before the Lamb, r each holding a harp, and s golden bowls full of incense, t which are the prayers of the saints.

Vargus: Be me. Eat a bag of dicks for breakfast. Go home for lunch and eat another bag of dicks. Finish work and start preparing my bag of dicks for dinner while I warm up ‘The Saga Continues’. No Aetherius. Me sad. Chew dicks pensively. Some guy called Scorpius fighting instead. Level 28. Total noobcake. ROFL, wut a tryhard. Noobcake kicks demi-god in my three meals a day and cusses him out in livestream, with broken arms and legs. Dicks spilling from my gobsmacked open mouth (soooooo many dicks). I inhale too hard and my dinner gets lodged in my throat. Stars in my vision, blacking out. Try to call my mom for help, but multiple phalli are blocking my respiratory organs. Tumble out of my chair sideways and hit the ground, hands around my throat to dislodge all the penises I’ve been chowing down on. There’s no hope, there are too many. Everything goes dark. Wake up, my vision is blurry and my throat is blissfully unburdened by inadvertent deep throating. I’m being transported somewhere. Am I on my way to heaven? How will I explain my eating habits to Saint Peter? Big blurry white words are floating into perspective in the center of my vision. I try to focus on them, my brain still struggling to replenish oxygen. The words clear, and it is obvious that my diet has not gone unnoticed. I am in hell. ‘The Elder Scrolls V’. Oh no, oh god no, anything but that! ‘SKYRIM’. Please, St. Peter, I can change, please don’t forsake me, PLEA- “Hey you, you’re finally awake”. Thanks Todd. 10/10, would eat dicks and watch Daemien kick a demi-god in the schlong again.

Silent remembering is a form of prayer. No fragrance is more enchanting to re-experience than the aromatic bouquet gleaned from inhaling the cherished memories of our pastimes. We regularly spot elderly citizens sitting alone gently rocking themselves while facing the glowing sun. Although these sun worshipers might appear lonely in their state of serene solitude, they are not alone at all, because they deeply enmesh themselves in recalling the glimmering memories of days gone by. Marcel Proust wrote “In Search of Time Lost,” “As with the future, it is not all at once but grain by grain that one savors the past.” Test tasting the honeycombed memories of their bygone years, a delicate smile play out on their rose thin lips. The mellow tang of sweet tea memories – childhood adventures, coming of age rituals, wedding rites, recreational jaunts, wilderness explorations, viewing and creating art, literature, music, and poetry, sharing in the mystical experiences of life, and time spent with family – is the brew of irresistible intoxicants that we all long to sip as we grow old. The nectar mashed from a collection of choice memories produces a tray of digestible vignettes that each of us lovingly roll our silky tongues over. On the eve of lying down for the last time in the stillness of our cradled deathbeds, we will swaddle ourselves with a blanket of heartfelt love and whisper a crowning chaplet of affection for all of humanity. After all, we been heaven blessed to take with us to our final resting place an endless scroll amassing the kiss soft memories of time yore.

Each act of writing represents a separate lock of the author’s tissue and all serious piecework folds into an ongoing anthology. A writer’s portfolio is comprised of interlocking ideas that are in a constant state of change. A writer’s ideas gradually reflect their current mental and spiritual composition and a writer’s way of living reflects the progression of their ideas. Each written version of a person’s life stands as mental testament of who the author was at a given moment in time. Just as we cannot sum up a person’s life with an isolated snapshot, truly to understand who a writer was we must read his or her entire body of work. No single work of writing tells us who the writer was. The compilation of a writer’s scripts defines the shady author, even if some of these works overtake, correct, or contradict previous efforts. Who we are is the summation of who we were as a child, teenager, young adult, in middle age, and as an elder. Only by viewing a person in successive stages do we truly comprehend them. Only by reading the oeuvre of an author, do we appreciate the writer’s ultimate act of creation. Only by reading a person’s obituary do we come to know what their living Magnus opus stood for.

Elderly citizens naively believe that the younger generation is less respectful and more immodest than prior generations. As we age, it is easy for us to forget the follies of our own youth and attribute greater decorum onto our parents’ generation than to our peers. Every age produces its share of fools, braggarts, con artist, manipulators of the public trust, and other forms of degenerate behavior. Politicians from all eras come from the ranks of people who seek power, the type of persons inclined to swindle the masses and promote their personal glory. As we mature, we look with increasing skepticism on the fun-loving madness that drove our youth, and we grow more susceptible falsely to believe that a few short decades ago there was more decency, modesty, sincerity, and moral rectitude. In addition, as we age and feel increasingly secure in our position in society, we easily forget some of the great tragedies that marred prior generations and insensate to the vices that corrupted our ancestors’ culture. Each generation recollects with fondness the social infrastructure that formed their being and holds in reverence the scientists, teachers, religious leaders, artists, artisans, heroic soldiers, and revered social and political leaders whom influenced their generation.

All wars result in the ruthless destruction of human life. Warfare evidences our collective degradation. War eviscerates cities and towns. The mangled bodies of children, women, elderly citizens, and youthful soldiers contrast sharply with the pomp of warfare.

SO I WEPT much, because no one was found worthy to open and read the scroll, or to look at it. But one of the elders said to me, ‘Do not weep. Behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has prevailed to open the scroll and to loose its seven seals.” - Revelations 5:4-5

Lately I’m too tired to care about getting old. I never put my phone down. I scroll many futures away. I sleep many futures away, I write them away, the longer I live, the more the future disappears.

You are worthy to take the scroll and break the seals of it,  because you were sacrificed, and with your blood you bought men for God of every race, language, people and nation 10 and made them a line of kings and priests, to serve our God and to rule the world." 11 In my vision, I heard the sound of an immense number of angels gathered around the throne and the animals and the elders; there were ten thousand times ten thousand of theme and thousands upon thousands, 12 shouting, "The Lamb that was sacrificed is worthy to be given power, riches, wisdom, strength, honor, glory and blessing." 13 Then I heard ail the living things in creation -- everything that lives in the air, and on the ground, and under the ground, and in the sea, crying, "To the Orie who is sitting on the throne and to the Lamb, be ail praise, honor, glory and power, for ever and ever." 14 And the four animals said, "Amen"; and the elders prostrated themselves to worship.

Music oxygenates the limbic system; it works in that space created where our monotonous daily life intersects with our romantic dream flutters. The vibrant cadence of music oscillates in the innate gap between the fibers of our reptilian brain and our mammalian brain. Music hinges us together; its heady beat connects the new human brain to the elder parts of the body. Musical flutters trigger electrical impulses and release chemical secretions in the brain that stimulate our bodies to shake, rattle, and roll. Music projects us into an altered state of emotional renaissance. Sound waves of charging notes invade us akin to an irrepressible spectral force that occupies our mind and body.

But there was no one, in heaven or on the earth or under the earth, who was able to open the scroll and read it. 4 I wept bitterly because there was nobody fit to open the scroll and read it, 5 but one of the elders said to me, "There is no need to cry : the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed, and he will open the scroll and the seven seals of it.

Then I saw, standing between the throne with its four animals and the circle of the elders, a Lamb that seemed to have been sacrificed; it had seven horns, and it had seven eyes, which are the seven Spirits God has sent out all over the world. 7 The Lamb came forward to take the scroll from the right hand of the One sitting on the throne, 8 and when he took it, the four animals prostrated themselves before him and with them the twenty-four elders; each one of them was holding a harp and had a golden bowl full of incense made of the prayers of the saints.

TALES OF SOUTHERN WATERS,

THE MOST CURRENT AND HIGH ADVENTURES OF PRINCE ATTREBUS,

Then I saw a scroll in the right hand of the one who was sitting on the throne. There was writing on the inside and the outside of the scroll, and it was sealed with seven seals. And I saw a strong angel, who shouted with a loud voice: “Who is worthy to break the seals on this scroll and open it?” But no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll and read it. Then I began to weep bitterly because no one was found worthy to open the scroll and read it. But one of the twenty-four elders said to me, “Stop weeping! Look, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the heir to David’s throne, has won the victory. He is worthy to open the scroll and its seven seals.” Then I saw a Lamb that looked as if it had been slaughtered, but it was now standing between the throne and the four living beings and among the twenty-four elders. He had seven horns and seven eyes, which represent the sevenfold Spirit of God that is sent out into every part of the earth. He stepped forward and took the scroll from the right hand of the one sitting on the throne. And when he took the scroll, the four living beings and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb. Each one had a harp, and they held gold bowls filled with incense, which are the prayers of God’s people. And they sang a new song with these words: “You are worthy to take the scroll and break its seals and open it. For you were slaughtered, and your blood has ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation. And you have caused them to become a Kingdom of priests for our God. And they will reign on the earth.

What is better – To be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?

Then I saw in the right hand of him who was seated on the throne a scroll written within and on the back, sealed with seven seals. And I saw a mighty angel proclaiming with a loud voice, “Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?” And no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll or to look into it, and I began to weep loudly because no one was found worthy to open the scroll or to look into it. And one of the elders said to me, “Weep no more; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.” And between the throne and the four living creatures and among the elders I saw a Lamb standing, as though it had been slain, with seven horns and with seven eyes, which are the seven spirits of God sent out into all the earth. And he went and took the scroll from the right hand of him who was seated on the throne. And when he had taken the scroll, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb, each holding a harp, and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints.  Revelation 5:1-8