Jason And The Golden Fleece Quotes

Childhood is bound like the Gordian knot with my memories of the Black Sea, and I still feel its waters welling up within me today. Sometimes these waters are leaden, as grey as the military ships that sail on their curved expanses, and sometimes they are blue as pigmented cobalt. Then would come dusk, when I would sit and watch the seabirds waver to shore, flitting from open waters to the quiet empty vastlands in darkening spaces behind me, the same birds Ovid once saw during his exile, perhaps; and the same waters the Argonauts crossed searching for the fleece of renewal. And out in the distance, invisible, the towering heights of Caucasus, where once-bright memories of the fire-thief have transmuted into something weird and many-faceted, and beyond these, pitch-black Karabakh in dolorous Armenia.

A working woman, rising before dawn to spin and needing light in her cottage room, piles brushwood on a smoldering log, and the whole heap kindled by the little brand goes up in a mighty blaze. Such was the fire of Love, stealthy but all-consuming, that swept through Medea's heart. In the turmoil of her soul, her soft cheeks turned from rose to white and white to rose.

It is a fact that we tribes of suffering men never plant our feet firmly upon the path of joy, but there is ever some bitter pain to keep company with our delight.

Jason neither agreed nor disagreed, but took refuge in gloomy silence, while Orpheus, who of all the Argonauts was least likely to blunder in the Samothracian ritual, invoked the Triple Goddess in her name of Amphitrite. He poured a jar of olive oil upon the waves, and in her name respectfully called upon the North Wind to cease. For a while the North Wind, whom his sons Calaïs and Zetes also respectfully invoked, made no response, except for a single furious blast that nearly tore the mast out of the ship, but then gradually ceased.

As far as cheating goes , you have illustrious predecessors . Theseus escaped from the labyrinth thanks to Ariadne's thread , Jason stole the golden fleece with Medea's help .... The Kaurabas used subterfuge to win at dice in the Mahabharata , and the Achaeans checkmated the Trojans by moving a wooden horse . Your conscience is clear .

To mortal men the gods allot woes which cannot be foreseen.

Hercules expressed no wonder at any point of the recital, but when he heard of Medea’s infatuation for Jason he sighed and remarked with unusual mildness, ”The poor girl, I pity her! Echion, my friend, I have a message for you to deliver, and here is my silver cup in payment. Tell the Princess I condole with her, no less heartily than I condoled with Queen Hypsipyle of Lemnos. Tell her that Jason will treat her no less faithlessly than he treated Hypsipyle, though for his sake she has cut herself off from her own house and people and become an accessory to parricide and fratricide. Assure her that when he deserts her, whether it be this year or next year or in twelve years’ time, she can steadfastly count upon Hercules of Tiryns to avenge her or comfort her.

Though we may make the points of our weapons as sharp as needles and edges as sharp as razors, there is only one man who can haul us out of this mire, the very man who, lanterned like the Marsh Spite, has led us into it – Jason, son of Aeson. Hercules himself chose him as our captain, and obeyed him faithfully as long as he was with us. Now why was this? Jason is a skilled archer, but not the equal of Phalerus or Atalanta; he throws the javelin well, but not so well as Atalanta or Meleager or even myself; he can use a spear, but not with the art or courage of Idas; he is ignorant of music, except that of drum and pipe; he cannot swim; he cannot box; he has learned to pull well at the oar but he is no seaman; he is no painter; he is no wizard; his sight is not keen above the ordinary; in eloquence he is below anyone else here, except Idas, and perhaps myself; he is hasty-tempered, faithless, sulky and young. Yet Hercules chose him as our captain and obeyed him. I ask again: why was this?

As the Argo drew alongside the great rock at Methone which served as a jetty, Atalanta sprang aboard before anyone could prevent her, with a fir branch in her hand. “In the name of the maiden goddess,” she cried. Jason had no choice but to accept her as a member of the ship’s company. The silver fir is sacred to Artemis, who, though she has renounced her connexion with the Triple Goddess, and acknowledged herself as a daughter of Zeus, still keeps most of her former characteristics. It is more dangerous to offend her than almost any other deity, and Jason was relieved that she too favoured the expedition; he had feared that he might have offended her priestess Iphias by his curtness that morning.

Hercules expressed no wonder at any point of the recital, but when he heard of Medea’s infatuation for Jason he sighed and remarked with unusual mildness, ”The poor girl, I pity her! Echion, my friend, I have a message for you to deliver, and here is my silver cup in payment. Tell the Princess I condole with her, no less heartily than I condoled with Queen Hypsipyle of Lemnos. Tell her that Jason will treat her no less faithlessly than he treated Hypsipyle, though for his sake she has cut herself off from her own house and people and become a come an accessory to parricide and fratricide. Assure her that when he deserts her, whether it be this year or next year or in twelve years’ time, she can steadfastly count upon Hercules of Tiryns to avenge her or comfort her.

With these words of prayer he threw the barley-grains. The two heroes responsible for the oxen, might Ankaios and Herakles, girded themselves in preparation. The latter crashed his club down on the middle of the forehead of one ox; in one movement its heavy body fell to the ground. Ankaios cut the other's broad neck with his bronze axe, slicing through the tough tendons; it fell sprawling over its two horns. Their comrades quickly slaughtered and flayed the oxen, chopping and cutting them up and removing the thigh pieces for sacrifice These they covered all over with a thick layer of fat and burnt them on spits, while the son of Aison poured libations of unmixed wine. Idmon rejoiced as he gazed at the flame, which burnt brightly all around the sacrifices, and the favourable omen of the murky smoke, darting up in dark spirals.

It is a story, as the first word of the original Greek tells us about "a man" (andras). He is not "the" man, but one of many men-- albeit a man of extraordinary cognitive, psychological, and military power, one who can win any competition, outwit any opponent, and manage, against all odds, to survive. The poem tells us how he makes his circuitous way back home across stormy seas after many years at war. We may expect the hero of an "epic" narrative to confront evil forces, perform a superhuman task, and rescue vast numbers of people from an extraordinary kind of threat. Failing that, we might hope at least for a great quest unexpectedly achieved, despite perils all around; an action that saves the world, or at least changes it in some momentous way-- like Jason claiming the Golden Fleece, Launcelot glimpsing the Holy Grail, Aeanas beginning the foundation of Rome. In 'The Odyssey', we find instead the story of a man whose grand adventure is simply to go back to his own home, where he tries to turn everything back to the way it was before he went away. For this hero, mere survival is the most amazing feat of all.

That night was memorable to the Argonauts, for it was then that Nauplius taught them the names of the heavenly constellations, so far as he knew them, such as Callisto the Bear Woman, her son Arcas (usually called the Bear Warden), the Pleiads (which were just rising), and Cassiopeia. They amused themselves by naming others for themselves; some of which names gained currency in Greek ports after the return of the Argo. Thus the twin stars Castor and Pollux, at the shining of which the roughest seas subside; and the great lumbering constellation of Hercules at Labour; and the Lyre of Orpheus; and the constellation of Cheiron the Centaur (which Jason named) – all these are still remembered. So is the Dolphin of Little Ancaeus: for that evening all but he dined on mutton fried in dolphin oil, which was a food forbidden him; he therefore ate dried tunny instead and named the constellation ‘The Dolphin of Little Ancaeus.’ it was many years before the Argo herself was set in the heavens, low on the southern horizon: a constellation of twenty-three stars. Four stars form the mast, five the port rudder, and four the starboard; five the keel, five the gunwale; but the prow is not shown, because of a homicide that it caused.

Hercules expressed no wonder at any point of the recital, but when he heard of Medea’s infatuation for Jason he sighed and remarked with unusual mildness, ”The poor girl, I pity her! Echion, my friend, I have a message for you to deliver, and here is my silver cup in payment. Tell the Princess I condole with her, no less heartily than I condoled with Queen Hypsipyle of Lemons. Tell her that Jason will treat her no less faithlessly than he treated Hypsipyle, though for his sake she has cut herself off from her own house and people and become a come an accessory to parricide and fratricide. Assure her that when he deserts her, whether it be this year or next year or in twelve years’ time, she can steadfastly count upon Hercules of Tiryns to avenge her or comfort her.

Bringing back the Golden Fleece,” I repeated, mocking him. “As if it exists.” Castor frowned. “What’s biting you? Of course it exists! We told you what Jason said. It belonged to a marvelous ram sent by the gods to rescue two royal children, Phrixus and Helle, from their murderous stepmother. A pity it wasn’t a perfect rescue. Phrixus reached Colchis safely, but his sister, Helle, fell off in mid-flight and drowned. Jason says that’s why the place where she plunged into the sea’s called the Hellespont. If that doesn’t prove the story’s true, what will satisfy you?” “Anyone can give a place a name,” I said, rolling my eyes. “When I get home, I’ll name that olive grove near our training ground Wolf Forest and see what happens. A ram with a fleece of real gold, a flying ram that could carry the children through the skies to Colchis, where there are dragons, oh yes, that’s believable! That’s worth risking your lives for on a voyage across the world! I’ll bet you don’t care if that story’s true or not. You just want an excuse to go off chasing fame!” Polydeuces set a honey cake on my already heaping plate. “There must be something waiting for us in Colchis, little sister,” he said gently. “Maybe not the gold fleece of a flying ram, but something. Why would Jason go to the trouble and expense of outfitting a ship for such a long, dangerous voyage otherwise?” He smiled wistfully and added, “You mustn’t worry about us. We’ll come back; we’ll be fine.” He was right: I was worried about what would become of my brothers on that great adventure. But more than that, I envied them with all my heart. So what if the goal of their expedition was the phantom fleece of a ram that never existed? The fascinating lands my brothers would see and the exploits they’d share would be real enough. And I’d be left behind. They’ll see marvels I can’t being to imagine, I thought. Maybe they’ll even see that old sailor’s five-legged monster! Meanwhile, I’m going to be trundled home in an oxcart so thickly hedged around by Spartan soldiers that all I’ll see during my journey will be spears. It’s not fair! I can handle a sword almost as well as either of them, and I know I’m better with a bow and arrow!

At least we’ll sail off with a memory of how happy you look tonight.” “I am happy. You-know-who isn’t here.” I rolled my eyes in the direction of Medea’s empty chair. “I hear she’s got a headache. It must be a big one, to keep her away from seeing Lord Aetes honor her precious hero.” “Orpheus tells me she approached him about making a praise-song recounting how Jason won the Golden Fleece. You should have heard the wild ideas she wanted him to include! Fire-breathing oxen with bronze hooves, dragon’s teeth that sprout into hosts of fully armed men, an unsleeping monster guarding the Fleece--” “As if he needs her help with making imaginary monsters!” I smiled. “The closest thing I saw to a sleeping monster was one old priest, napping near the temple to Ares.

I doubt you cared this much about their feelings when you chose this path,” Iolaus said. He didn’t raise his voice. The truth doesn’t need to be shouted. “Maybe not,” I answered, looking him in the eyes. “But I had to choose it.” “That’s ridiculous.” “No more ridiculous than why you’re ready to sail into the unknown. The only person who needs to chase after the Golden Fleece is Prince Jason, yet you and all the others are joining him for the sake of pure adventure. You hunger for it! Why can’t I?” “Enough.” Iolaus raised his hand. “You win, for your brothers’ sake and because I’ve got the feeling you’d find a way to sneak aboard no matter how much they or I try to stop you. I wish some of the men I know had half your boldness. It’s strange to see it in a girl. Perhaps you’re really Atalanta’s daughter.” My smile answered his. “My nurse, Ione, said I was Zeus’s child.” “My uncle Herakles is supposed to be Zeus’s son. You two must be related. He’s a great one for following his heart first and thinking about the consequences afterward. Or never.” His teeth flashed in the shadows of the old fishwife’s home. “I’ll keep your secret.” “Thank you. You won’t have to do it for very long. You said I didn’t care about my brothers’ feelings when I decided to join this quest. You were right. I’ve only been thinking about what I want.” I took a deep breath. What I was about to say tore at my heart, but I couldn’t escape it. “I’ll go back to Delphi. It’s one thing to take a chance with my own life, but not with so many others.” “Oh, I agree,” Iolaus said. “Which is why I intend to take very good care of my new weapons bearers.

The only way that Jason can claim his rightful place as ruler of Iolcus, Greece, is by retrieving the fabled Golden Fleece from distant lands. The problem? Everyone considers the task impossible, fraught with terrifying perils certain to kill any man. Jason isn’t so sure. He assembles a mighty team of warriors—the Argonauts—and builds the largest ship ever constructed. He then figures out how to successfully navigate the legendary maze of crushing rocks known as the Symplegades, yoke fire-breathing, bronze-hoofed oxen, trick a mighty army guarding the Fleece into ravaging itself to pieces, and drug a sleepless dragon into its first slumber. Four months after departing, Jason returns with the Fleece to take his throne.

Athenaeum, or Jonathan Edwards at thirteen entering Yale College, and while yet of a tender age shining in the horizon of American literature; while the same age finds H. W. Longfellow writing for the Portland Gazette. At fourteen John Quincy Adams was private secretary to Francis H. Dana, American Minister to Russia; at fifteen Benjamin Franklin was writing for the New England Courant, and at an early age became a noted journalist. Benjamin West at sixteen had painted "The Death of Socrates," at seventeen George Bancroft had won a degree in history, Washington Irving had gained

calls to adventure are puzzles waiting to be solved. Anyone can apply, but the price of admission is paid in imagination. As journeys unfold, new challenges arise and pressures mount. These successive tolls must too be paid in creativity and ingenuity, as they were by history’s most imaginative minds. The only way that Jason can claim his rightful place as ruler of Iolcus, Greece, is by retrieving the fabled Golden Fleece from distant lands. The problem? Everyone considers the task impossible, fraught with terrifying perils certain to kill any man. Jason isn’t so sure. He assembles a mighty team of warriors—the Argonauts—and builds the largest ship ever constructed. He then figures out how to successfully navigate the legendary maze of crushing rocks known as the Symplegades, yoke fire-breathing, bronze-hoofed oxen, trick a mighty army guarding the Fleece into ravaging itself to pieces, and drug a sleepless dragon into its first slumber. Four months after departing, Jason

Many calls to adventure are puzzles waiting to be solved. Anyone can apply, but the price of admission is paid in imagination. As journeys unfold, new challenges arise and pressures mount. These successive tolls must too be paid in creativity and ingenuity, as they were by history’s most imaginative minds. The only way that Jason can claim his rightful place as ruler of Iolcus, Greece, is by retrieving the fabled Golden Fleece from distant lands. The problem? Everyone considers the task impossible, fraught with terrifying perils certain to kill any man. Jason isn’t so sure. He assembles a mighty team of warriors—the Argonauts—and builds the largest ship ever constructed. He then figures out how to successfully navigate the legendary maze of crushing rocks known as the Symplegades, yoke fire-breathing, bronze-hoofed oxen, trick a mighty army guarding the Fleece into ravaging itself to pieces, and drug a sleepless

Theseus, slayer of the Minotaur (who also slew Eumolpus’ son Kerkyon, to become king of Eleusis and neighboring Athens), pacified Cerberus, Hell’s watchdog, with poppy-juice on his aborted raid to kidnap the spring-princess, Persephone, from her lover, Hades. Jason of Thessaly was an adept herbalist—the name translates as “healer”—well-acquainted with opium. He used it as a kind of Mickey Finn, sprinkling it on the eyes of the serpent guarding the Golden Fleece. And the fire which Prometheus stole from Zeus is described metaphorically by Aeschylus as both flower and drug. Prometheus concealed the “fire” in the customary manner of Greek herb-gatherers—in a hollow fennel stalk—and stole it from Zeus at a place called Mekone, which translates literally as poppy town.

I was moving away from manned submersibles, which were dangerous and could stay underwater only a few hours at a time, to underwater vehicles that could be operated from on board a mother vessel and that could remain submerged for as long as needed. I even gave names to the robots I was envisioning. I planned to call them Jason and Argo, in honor of the mythical explorer and the vessel in which he had brought home the Golden Fleece. Compared to Alvin, they would be cheaper to operate and could survey much larger areas—a critical factor given the strict time limits on most ocean expeditions.

In Mythology, I am still reading about Medea and the quest for the Golden Fleece. Here is someone that I recognize. When Medea falls in love with Jason, it grabs me by the throat. I can see her. Medea sneaks Jason things to help him: ointments to make him invincible, secrets in rocks. She has magic, could bend the natural to the unnatural. But even with all her power, Jason bends her like a young pine in a hard wind; he makes her double in two. I know her.

Much about motherhood is a challenge, but among its comforts is how I get to read so many things I never knew before and never knew I needed. For example, I didn’t know Jason and the Argonauts is really The Witch Medea Gets Your Golden Fleece for You, You Fucking Incompetent.

This whole Psalm offers itself to be drawn into these two opposite propositions: a godly man is blessed, a wicked man is miserable; which seem to stand as two challenges, made by the prophet: one, that he will maintain a godly man against all comers, to be the only Jason for winning the golden fleece of blessedness; the other, that albeit the ungodly make a show in the world of being happy, yet they of all men are most miserable.—Sir Richard Baker, 1640