Juno Love Quotes

He is the cheese to my macaroni.

In my opinon, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person will still think the sun shines out your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with.

You said you didn't want to get involved with me,that one of us would get hurt and how you couldn't bear it. Well that just isn't good enough..Look what happens to people just living their lives. They get hurt, it's not fair they get hurt but they do, all the time, no matter how careful they are. Somebody can just just come along and hurt them, for no stupid reason..

In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person will still think the sun shines out your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with.

Love, I thought to myself abstractedly. Not 'This is love' or 'Is this love?' Not a sentence, not a certainty, not a thought with moving parts or direction. Just love, all of it, as it is. Whether it's enough or not. Wthether it's real or we're making it up. However shoddy it gets, or bent out of shape. It's still extraordinary. However foolish, however vain. However badly it ends. Love.

Look, in my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person is still going to think the sun shines out your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with.

If we are not here for love, what are we here for?

I buried myself in the woods today. Covered myself in flowers and pretended to be dead." She raised her pen for a moment and thought, then went back to writing in cursive that could rival Sister's. "You should always wait for late spring to die, Juno," she says then. "The flowers are better".

Think we were both starting fires to see if any of them burned.

There's really nothing to prepare a person for having their hand taken in just the right way.

A woman has her Juno, just as a man has his Genius; they are names for the sacred power, the divine spark we each of us have in us. My Juno can't "get into" me, it is already my deepest self. The poet was speaking of Juno as if it were a person, a woman, with likes and dislikes: a jealous woman. The world is sacred, of course, it is full of gods, numina, great powers and presences. We give some of them names--Mars of the fields and the war, Vesta the fire, Ceres the grain, Mother Tellus the earth, the Penates of the storehouse. The rivers, the springs. And in the storm cloud and the light is the great power called the father god. But they aren't people. They don't love and hate, they aren't for or against. They accept the worship due them, which augments their power, through which we live.

Fame is Diet Love. It tastes like love and looks like love, but there’s zero per cent real love in it.

You can do almost anything in prison, but you can't leave and you can never dance.

The difference between hate and love can rise and fall on a breath, a single heartbeat in time, the slightest shift of light and shade. People will do anything to control what they most fear.

You've taught me that caring for someone is worth the pain and risk of possibly losing them. And that to love someone isn't a weakness but an act of bravery, for which the rewards are endless.

If you find someone who'll hold you when you're at your worst, who'll make you laugh so hard that your tears of pain turn to joy, then they're your family. They're the ones you should love with all your might until your last breath.

Gods in The Lost Hero Aeolus The Greek god of the winds. Roman form: Aeolus Aphrodite The Greek goddess of love and beauty. She was married to Hephaestus, but she loved Ares, the god of war. Roman form: Venus Apollo The Greek god of the sun, prophecy, music, and healing; the son of Zeus, and the twin of Artemis. Roman form: Apollo Ares The Greek god of war; the son of Zeus and Hera, and half brother to Athena. Roman form: Mars Artemis The Greek goddess of the hunt and the moon; the daughter of Zeus and the twin of Apollo. Roman form: Diana Boreas The Greek god of the north wind, one of the four directional anemoi (wind gods); the god of winter; father of Khione. Roman form: Aquilon Demeter The Greek goddess of agriculture, a daughter of the Titans Rhea and Kronos. Roman form: Ceres Dionysus The Greek god of wine; the son of Zeus. Roman form: Bacchus Gaea The Greek personification of Earth. Roman form: Terra Hades According to Greek mythology, ruler of the Underworld and god of the dead. Roman form: Pluto Hecate The Greek goddess of magic; the only child of the Titans Perses and Asteria. Roman form: Trivia Hephaestus The Greek god of fire and crafts and of blacksmiths; the son of Zeus and Hera, and married to Aphrodite. Roman form: Vulcan Hera The Greek goddess of marriage; Zeus’s wife and sister. Roman form: Juno Hermes The Greek god of travelers, communication, and thieves; son of Zeus. Roman form: Mercury Hypnos The Greek god of sleep; the (fatherless) son of Nyx (Night) and brother of Thanatos (Death). Roman form: Somnus Iris The Greek goddess of the rainbow, and a messenger of the gods; the daughter of Thaumas and Electra. Roman form: Iris Janus The Roman god of gates, doors, and doorways, as well as beginnings and endings. Khione The Greek goddess of snow; daughter of Boreas Notus The Greek god of the south wind, one of the four directional anemoi (wind gods). Roman form: Favonius Ouranos The Greek personification of the sky. Roman form: Uranus Pan The Greek god of the wild; the son of Hermes. Roman form: Faunus Pompona The Roman goddess of plenty Poseidon The Greek god of the sea; son of the Titans Kronos and Rhea, and brother of Zeus and Hades. Roman form: Neptune Zeus The Greek god of the sky and king of the gods. Roman form: Jupiter

This is the mighty and branching tree called mythology which ramifies round the whole world whose remote branches under separate skies bear like colored birds the costly idols of Asia and the half-baked fetishes of Africa and the fairy kings and princesses of the folk-tales of the forest and buried amid vines and olives the Lares of the Latins, and carried on the clouds of Olympus the buoyant supremacy of the gods of Greece. These are the myths and he who has no sympathy with myths has no sympathy with men. But he who has most Sympathy with myths will most fully realize that they are not and never were a religion, in the sense that Christianity or even Islam is a religion. They satisfy some of the needs satisfied by a religion; and notably the need for doing certain things at certain dates; the need of the twin ideas of festivity and formality. But though they provide a man with a calendar they do not provide him with a creed. A man did not stand up and say 'I believe in Jupiter and Juno and Neptune,' etc., as he stands up and says 'I believe in God the Father Almighty' and the rest of the Apostles' Creed.... Polytheism fades away at its fringes into fairy-tales or barbaric memories; it is not a thing like monotheism as held by serious monotheists. Again it does satisfy the need to cry out on some uplifted name, or some noble memory in moments that are themselves noble and uplifted; such as the birth of a child or the saving of a city. But the name was so used by many to whom it was only a name. Finally it did satisfy, or rather it partially satisfied, a thing very deep in humanity indeed; the idea of surrendering something as the portion of the unknown powers; of pouring out wine upon the ground, of throwing a ring into the sea; in a word, of sacrifice....A child pretending there is a goblin in a hollow tree will do a crude and material thing like leaving a piece of cake for him. A poet might do a more dignified and elegant thing, like bringing to the god fruits as well as flowers. But the degree of seriousness in both acts may be the same or it may vary in almost any degree. The crude fancy is no more a creed than the ideal fancy is a creed. Certainly the pagan does not disbelieve like an atheist, any more than he believes like a Christian. He feels the presence of powers about which he guesses and invents. St. Paul said that the Greeks had one altar to an unknown god. But in truth all their gods were unknown gods. And the real break in history did come when St. Paul declared to them whom they had worshipped. The substance of all such paganism may be summarized thus. It is an attempt to reach the divine reality through the imagination alone; in its own field reason does not restrain it at all..... There is nothing in Paganism whereby one may check his own exaggerations.... The only objection to Natural Religion is that somehow it always becomes unnatural. A man loves Nature in the morning for her innocence and amiability, and at nightfall, if he is loving her still, it is for her darkness and her cruelty. He washes at dawn in clear water as did the Wise Man of the Stoics, yet, somehow at the dark end of the day, he is bathing in hot bull’s blood, as did Julian the Apostate.

When Larce was born, she’d feared she would have no more love to give. But she’d soon discovered that love was not finite. It expanded each time she bore another child. Arnth

He was right. Love enfeebled a man. She saw this with Marcus and Drusus. It could possess, enrage, and overcome reason. It could drive vengeance and inspire passion and courage. She smiled as she lit another lamp and set up her handloom. For, unlike a man, love gave a woman power. A night moth had become a patrician’s mistress. The impossible had been made possible.

I don't know if it's something you win. I still have negative thoughts a lot of the time, but I know it's not me. I'm fine in here. I'm a whole person - I like olives, I hate bananas. I can't sing, but I'm really good at video games. I love myself, and other people love me too. But sometimes, little gremlins creep in.

You can't control love, or joy, or sadness, or madness. And that's where the magic is, Alice.

She was mid-laugh, and so was Rhett as he looked at her. Dad and Uncle Denny were grinning in the background, holding their guitars under the Beck Brothers, Rhett Copeland, and Rogue Rebel Records signs the Ashe Crew had made and added to the room. Whatever filter Remi had used made the picture look grainy and old, as if it had been taken all those years ago. And as Juno and Rhett stared at the picture, she knew pieces of her really had died in her twenty-seventh year. But her favorite parts lived on and were growing. Perhaps love did that, or perhaps it was finding something she was truly passionate about, she didn’t know. All she knew was the day she’d found Rhett, he’d changed the course of her entire life for the better.

I noticed everything and found that it was Sean I noticed most.

I owe you a thousand sorrys. I am guilty of ambition, and love. I truly saw, on the crest of tomorrow, a world where I could be me, and you could be you, and we could be together, just as we are. Was I naive?

I much prefer the old-fashioned comparisons of the Double Liegeois, which inform you simply: the Sun is a pumpkin, two feet in diameter, Jupiter an orange, Saturn a love-apple, Neptune a black cherry, Uranus a smaller cherry, the Earth a bean, Venus a pea, Mars a large pin's head, Mercury a mustard seed, and Juno, Ceres, Vesta, and Pallas mere grains of sand. One can understand that sort of thing.

Make peace. The plague has shown me that we must ensure words of love are not hoarded.

A man is expected to control his emotions. To be in love is to let your soul live inside another’s body. It diminishes a man.

she’d feared she would have no more love to give. But she’d soon discovered that love was not finite. It expanded each time she bore another child. Arnth

Even horrible people can have their hearts broken.

On peut pardonner à toute femme ses flirts d’adolescence irréfléchis. Quand on a dix-huit ans, on peut considérer un petit ami de vingt-quatre ans comme un signe de prestige, et non comme un sale type qui fréquente des adolescentes parce qu’elles sont plus malléables que les femmes de son âge.

La plupart des adultes de son entourage étaient encore en train de résoudre tant bien que mal leurs propres énigmes personnelles. Elle trouvait un peu excessif d’exiger de Theo que tout soit en ordre dans sa vie à quinze ans simplement parce qu’elle était trans. De l’avis de Niamh, l’utilisation de pronoms différents ne faisait pas la moindre p*tain de différence pour une seule âme dans ce monde à l’exception de Theo. Et pour elle, ça semblait signifier énormément.

My eye hurt. Black and blue it was, that’s what they say anyway, black and blue. Somebody, I’m sure, who’d never gotten a puck said it. They hadn’t thought it through. Forgot about the red and orange that come later, and the light brown after that and then the piss yellow of rotten daffodils. That’s how bruises really are.

Imagine if trees wore concealer cause they don’t like their reflection in the lake If the sun didn’t show up at dawn insecure to rise after scrolling her night awake Imagine if the sky used the Juno filter to make itself look paler and smooth out imperfections If earth went online shopping for clay masks to cleanse its pores and other obstructions Imagine birds attaching engines to their wings to fly higher and faster, leaving trails in our springs And now think about the child at the bottom of your eyes about all the other children that you expect to grow wise Do you really want to tell them this is all about their looks? Maybe after some scrolling put their nose into books

Who do you think you are? No one, Father. No one is right.

He was in there alright - I could see it then, my own boy.

I could hear Legs making noise in the kitchen as I was waking up and I felt all of a sudden at home.

Your sexuality or gender is as natural as your eye color, and you should never be ashamed of it.

There is something very pleasant in the close, bosom friendship, and bitter, uncompromising animosity, of these human gods, — of these human beings who would be gods were they not shorn so short of their divinity in that matter of immortality. If it were so arranged that the same persons were always friends, and the same persons were always enemies, as used to be the case among the dear old heathen gods and goddesses; — if Parliament were an Olympus in which Juno and Venus never kissed, the thing would not be nearly so interesting. But in this Olympus partners are changed, the divine bosom, now rabid with hatred against some opposing deity, suddenly becomes replete with love towards its late enemy, and exciting changes occur which give to the whole thing all the keen interest of a sensational novel.

Charlie had to be the hero in her own story. Fear was her dragon to slay. Love was her choice to make. No one could do it for her.

I can love being a woman while also recognising it’s traumatic.