Electric Idol Quotes

I don’t care if she deserves someone just as sweet as she is. I want her chained to me, and I’ll rip out the throat of anyone who thinks they can take her away.

Everyone was going crazy, like they’d just witnessed the birth of Jesus and the invention of electricity at the same time. Jude was a rock star, their savior, and they were paying him homage.

You might be a monster, but you’re my monster.

Look at us. Beauty and her Beast. Happily ever after and everything. Maybe fairy tales do exist.

I see a woman I don't deserve, but you make me want to be a better man so that one day I might deserve you. I see a goddess.

Love doesn't much care whether you deserve it or not. It's not exactly a conditional thing - or at least it shouldn't be.

It takes someone special to live among monsters and not become one.

I'm not a dreamer by nature. I like facts and reality rather than the fantastic version of what could be.

You're so willing to cut your own heart out to keep me safe, it never occurred to you that I'd feel the same way.

Love makes fools of us all. I never realized that would be so literal. We're both so intent on saving each other from pain and harm, we're throwing ourselves right into those very things.

When I'm with you, I feel human. I flat out fucking feel. Do you understand what that means for a person like me? I thought those parts were dead and buried so deep that they'd never see light again. I had to cut them down in order to continue to do the things required of me.

don’t care if she deserves someone just as sweet as she is. I want her chained to me, and I’ll rip out the throat of anyone who thinks they can take her away.

Tomorrow is Future Me’s problem.

Stop talking about yourself like that. I wouldn't let someone else talk about you so cruelly, and I'll be damned before I let you do it, either.

I suspected she was formidable, but she's even more than I could have guessed.

So clever and ambitious and you hide it behind this pretty face. Do you ever let down your walls, beautiful girl?

Nothing lasts forever. Not the hibernation over the winter, but not the beautiful blooms of summer, either. There are seasons to everything.

I feel like I have a monster inside me, rattling the cage of my control. Eventually it will break out, and then there will be a price to pay.

This woman will never submit, will always be looking at a situation from a thousand different angles, but right now, she's content to let me take care of her.

I love my body. I've fought so incredibly hard to love my body, even if some days that feels like an ambition instead of truth. I'm still painfully aware that not everyone feels the same.

It's pathetic that I'm so starved for any kind of softer emotion that the second someone comes to me with gentle hands instead of sharp words, I'm willing to walk to the Underworld and back to keep them in my life.

You're not one, you know." "Not what?" "A monster." I smile a little. "I would know, being a monster myself. You might move among us, but you aren't like us at all." She narrows her eyes. "I can't tell if that's a compliment or an insult." "It's a compliment. It takes someone special to live among monsters and not become one.

You don't survive this long without being at least a little bit monster.

I can't outrun myself.

I'm already not enough for them, or, rather, I'm too much. Too quiet, too fat, too plain.

There's a cunning brain in that pretty head, and she's using every bit of her intelligence in an attempt to get out of this situation alive.

I know when to roll with the punches, even if this one is a knockout.

Being self aware means I know all my weaknesses with the same thoroughness that I know my strengths.

She's smart and savvy and far too good for a man like me. I don't give a fuck. After tonight, she's mine in truth.

But once she works through her anger? She'll already be examining the angles for how she can spin the situation to benefit her.

I just want to feel, to forget, to cease to exist for a little while.

It feels like we really have started something meaningful. It's foolish in the extreme to let myself believe that.

I'm not saying them because I care about who's listening. I'm saying them because they're true.

They'll see what they want to see, especially if it reinforces their beliefs of what power and beauty look like.

Oh, she has her mask and she lies as well as I do, but that thread of kindness, that desire to bring light into the world instead of darkness? That's real.

I am not someone who needs to be protected. I am the knife in the dark, the threat ready to be leveled at any enemy that arises. What the fuck do I need a shield for?

How could she not turn away if she sees past the untouchable persona to the rough reality beneath? The broken bits I keep tucked away, lest they be used against me?

Because you have only been told the negative about yourself for so long, that's all you believe. Every person contains a balance of both good and bad inside them. Even you. Especially you.

Oh." Her expression falls a little, but she shrugs it off quickly. "The first and foremost vital rule is to never read the comments. That is exponentially more important for anyone who doesn't fit the traditional views on beauty or anyone is marginalized in any way, but the truth is that even the thinnest, most gorgeous models get people being terrible in their comments. Trolls will be trolls.

Although a youth culture was in evidence by the 1950s, the first obvious and dramatic manifestation of a culture generated by peer-orientation was the hippie counterculture of the 1960s and 1970s. The Canadian media theorist Marshall McLuhan called it “the new tribalism of the Electric Age.” Hair and dress and music played a significant part in shaping this culture, but what defined it more than anything was its glorification of the peer attachment that gave rise to it. Friends took precedence over family. Physical contact and connection with peers were pursued; the brotherhood of the pop tribe was declared, as in the generation-based “Woodstock nation.” The peer group was the true home. “Don't trust anyone over thirty” became the byword of youth who went far beyond a healthy critique of their elders to a militant rejection of tradition. The degeneration of that culture into alienation and drug use, on the one hand, and its co-optation for commercial purposes by the very mainstream institutions it was rebelling against were almost predictable. The wisdom of well-seasoned cultures has accumulated over hundreds and sometimes thousands of years. Healthy cultures also contain rituals and customs and ways of doing things that protect us from ourselves and safeguard values important to human life, even when we are not conscious of what such values are. An evolved culture needs to have some art and music that one can grow into, symbols that convey deeper meanings to existence and models that inspire greatness. Most important of all, a culture must protect its essence and its ability to reproduce itself — the attachment of children to their parents. The culture generated by peer orientation contains no wisdom, does not protect its members from themselves, creates only fleeting fads, and worships idols hollow of value or meaning. It symbolizes only the undeveloped ego of callow youth and destroys child-parent attachments. We may observe the cheapening of cultural values with each new peer-oriented generation. For all its self-delusion and smug isolation from the adult world, the Woodstock “tribe” still embraced universal values of peace, freedom, and brotherhood. Today's mass musical gatherings are about little more than style, ego, tribal exuberance, and dollars.

Love doesn't much care whether you deserve it or not. It's not exactly a conditional thing--or at least it shouldn't be.

Because you have only been told the negative about yourself for so long, that's all you believe. Every person has a balance of both good and bad inside them. Even you. Especially you.

I know how exhausting it can be to never let down your guard, and it's a really special place that allows it outside your home.

The balls on you, Eros. Gods, it’s a shame you make a better friend than a romantic partner—and that’s not saying much because you’re a shitty friend. But life with you would never be boring.

hooked up with the boogeyman

We have lost two things that we need to be well: darkness and silence. Our nervous systems are polluted with noise and electric lights. The affluent do 'dark therapy' and silent retreats. You have to buy silence and darkness, because the civilised world doesn't provide it for free. It trains us to be afraid of silence and darkness. And in exchange for our fear, it entertains us with noise and lights. Noise and lights stand in for lost meaning and lost power. They are false idols that replace the sacred. We are prisoners of our civilisation, tortured with noise and lights, unable to rest.

If we make it believable, everyone will assume that it's a love match between two rivals' children. As the last two week have more than proven, the media loves that Romeo and Juliet shit." "You're not exactly convincing me with that comparison. Romeo and Juliet both died." "Semantics. You know I'm right.

Some of the very people who ran McDonnell Douglas into the ground resurrected the same penny-pinching policies that sank their old company. Borrowing a page from another flawed idol, Jack Welch’s General Electric, they executed what today might be called the standard corporate playbook: anti-union, regulation-light, outsourcing-heavy. But pro-handout, at least when it comes to tax breaks and lucrative government contracts.

those voices will get louder, will be inescapable. I’m already not enough for them, or, rather, I’m too much. Too quiet, too fat, too plain. “Stop it.” Saying the words out loud grounds me, just a little. Those insults aren’t my beliefs. I’ve worked hard for them not to be.

Circulam pelos jogos de poder e pelas ameaças cuidadosamente veladas com a mesma naturalidade com que tubarões se movem na água.

So, yes, maybe we all have to be a little bit monster to survive this city.

It's hard to stand by and let the people you care about take risks.

Nothing lasts forever, Not the hibernation over the winter, but not the beautiful blooms of summer, either. There are seasons to everything.

Veste-se de poder, da mesma forma que algumas pessoas se vestem com joias.

That's ridiculous. Why wouldn't they have a wide range of sizes to fit all their customers? You're hardly the only woman's who's..." I wave my hand at her. "Fat." I bristle. "I didn't say that." "It's not an insult. It's just a word." She shrugs again. "It's also the truth...

What are you doing?" "Setting a timer." She blinks. "Why?" "Because I'm about to get distracted eating you out and I don't want to make the jeweler wait." Another of those slow, shocked blinks. "Eros, the jeweler won't be here for forty minutes." "I know." I curse softly. "It's not nearly enough time.

The woman showed me kindness once, and then I essentially followed her home like a feral cat and forced her to marry me.

I made a mistake. Just because I didn’t know the cost doesn’t mean I’m exempt from paying it.

For fuck’s sake, Hermes. Christmas was nearly two months ago.” “Christmas is a state of mind.

Because I love you.

Unlike Aphrodite, who seems determined to cling to every last drop of youth she can manage, my mother has allowed herself to age gracefully. She looks like exactly what she is—a white woman in her fifties with dark hair and impeccable style. She clothes herself in power the way some people clothe themselves in jewels. When people look at Demeter, they are instantly at ease because she exudes an aura that promises she’ll take care of everything.

Hooking up casually might be for other people, but I’ll never achieve it. I get too entangled. As a result, I have to carefully vet anyone I’m interested in, which is why my romantic life has been relatively barren the last year or so. If I can’t trust a person to really be into me—instead of either trying to curry favor with my mother or attempting to use me in some other way—then I can’t afford to sleep with them and have my logical brain sidelined.

It’s a skill I’ve managed for as long as I can remember, closing out others and offering nothing I don’t intend to.

make

There is the idol, there are the believers, and there I am, and if I had fewer scruples, I could well have been a priest, a necromancer, an exploiter of fears, of the primitive idolatry that one way or another the backward and aggrieved of humankind inevitably seek out. Then the church is built, the mystery embellished with art and craft, then dogma arrives, and no one can raise a voice against it. It’s an easy business. For centuries, priests, in different rites and languages, have sold a slice of heaven with all the comforts included: running water, electric light, television above all, a satisfied conscience, etc. The curious thing is that this domain, where there lives a terrible being by the name of God, has never been seen by anyone. Yet they go on selling it, and the price per cubic meter of heavenly air or divine land keeps rising higher and higher.

Personal experience taught me early that it's better to blend in than to stand up in front of a crowd and make a target of yourself.

Even monsters need help sometimes, Eros.

The truth doesn't matter when there's a compelling lie to be told.

We're still friends, I guess, but there's a distance there that neither of us can quite recover. I don't even know where to begin to try.

Maybe you don't have humanity, but surely you believe in the scales being balanced.

If I had known... But then, it doesn't matter. Playing what-if is a recipe for disaster. I made a mistake. Just because I didn't know the cost doesn't mean I'm exempt from paying it.

I don't play the game because it bores me, not because I'm incapable.

There's no escaping the way societal expectations scrape against my reality.

But you can't do anything about it, and getting upset over some stranger whose opinion I don't care about is counter productive.

I assure you that your preferences have absolutely nothing to do with how I'll dress or act in the future.

The only time I let down my walls is around my sisters, and even then not always entirely. They're dealing with their own stuff, after all. We've taken turns propping one another up when the situation gets tough. Trusting someone outside that tiny circle is unthinkable.

This was my childhood home, and if that childhood was often devoid of softness and safety, it wasn't all bad.

I really don't give a fuck if it's patriarchal or not. It's the truth. You're safe with me. I promise.

I am good at what I do. I know that. I've had ten years of practice and it comes naturally to me. But so much of my strength lies in people underestimating me.

And that care, that thoughtfulness, only makes this moment more intoxicating.

I can't doubt his words. Not even when he's told me harsh truths and soft ones. He has no reason to lie to me now.

I half expect her to ignore my call. Her favorite punishment is icing me out, depriving me of any contact or attention. When I was young and she'd do it, it always felt like she'd sliced me right down to the bone.

Her tactics don't work as well as they used to. Not since I grew up enough to realize she uses her love and her attention as both lure and punishment.

But releasing years worth of responsibility and worry is easier said than done.

I have to trust that my sister knows what she's doing and that she isn't about to land us in even deeper water.

That is my line in the sand, the one I will not cross, no matter who else pays the price. Even if it means I pay the price.

Even with that, I don't know if I'm capable of love, not in the way a normal person is.

At twenty-one, when I realized the lesson I should have years earlier: she doesn't really love me. I doubt she's actually capable of it. She sees me as a convenient tool to pick up and set down as the situation calls for it. All the soft moments, the tears, the hurt feelings, they were all weapons she wielded against me.

She's chaotic neutral personified. She's pretty okay, though.

This is what family feels like. What home feels like. I like it.

If I'm not careful, what I fear most will come to pass. I'll start to believe the pretty lie about this thing between us, rather than the stark truth.