Juno Quotes

Juno: "All roads lead there child. You should know that." Percy: "Detention?

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.

Indeed, "Hera said. ―Porphyrion, the strongest of his kind. Gaea needed a great deal of power to raise him again —my power. For weeks I‘ve grown weaker as my essence was used to grow him a new form." ―So you‘re like a heat lamp,"Leo guessed. ―Or fertilizer.

Oh, don't mind me! Just the queen of the heavens, dying over here!

Hurt is a part of life. To be honest, I think hurt is a part of happiness, that our definition of happiness has gotten very narrow lately, very nervous, a little afraid of this brawling, fabulous, unpredictable world.

Just keep moving! we're almost there." "Almost where?" Juno chuckled. "All roads lead there child. You should know that." "Detention?" Percy asked. "Rome, child, the old woman said. "Rome.

Juno MacGuff: Nah... I mean, I'm already pregnant, so what other kind of shenanigans could I get into?

I was too young that time to value her, But now I know her. If she be a traitor, Why, so am I. We still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learned, played, eat together, And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled and inseparable.

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..

Juno MacGuff: I don't know what kind of girl I am.

Gas Attendant: "Thata ain't no etch-a-sketch. Thats one doodle that can't be un-did home skillet.

Juno MacGuff: I was out handling things way beyond my maturity level.

Juno MacGuff: "Thanks a heap coyote ugly. This cactus-gram stings worse than your abandonment.

Beauty: it curves, curves are beauty. Shapely goddesses, Venus, Juno: curves the world admires.

Shoulda gone to China. They give away babies like free iPods. They put them in guns and shoot them out at sporting events.

Juno MacGuff: Wise move. I know this girl who had a huge crazy freakout because she took too many behavioral meds at once. She took off all her clothes and jumped into the fountain at Ridgedale Mall and she was like, "Blaaaaah! I'm a kraken from the sea!" Su-Chin: That was you.

Juno: WOOOAH! ....Dreeeaaam BIG!

Juno MacGuff: [yelling through the house] Dad? Mac MacGuff: What? Juno MacGuff: Either I just peed my pants or um... Mac MacGuff: *Or*...? Juno MacGuff: THUNDERCATS ARE GO!

Juno MacGuff: You can never have too many of your favorite one calorie breath mints.

Juno: "The heroes of olympus must unite! After your victory over kronos in manhattan...well I fear that wounded jupiter's self-esteem." Percy: Cause I was right and he was wrong" Juno: "He should be used to that after being married to me so long, but alas.

Bren MacGuff: Well, honey, doctors are sadists who like to play God and watch lesser people scream...

Good night, Jessica Marie and Juno Merriam. Good night, River Nicolas.

Jeez banana! Shut your freaking gob!

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.

My heroes, our time together is short,” Juno said. “I am grateful that you called upon me. I have spent weeks in a state of pain and confusion...my Greek and Roman natures warring against each other. Worse, I’ve been forced to hide from Jupiter, who searches for me in his misguided wrath, believing that I caused this war with Gaea.” “Gee,” Annabeth said, “why would he think that?

Juno: Honest to blog?

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.

I dare to dream of a world where people can dress, speak and behave how they want, free from mockery, derision, judgement, harassment and danger. This is what I want. Who’s with me?

For an actress to be a success, she must have the face of Venus, the figure of Juno, the brains of Minerva, the memory of Macaulay, the chastity of Diana, the grace of Terpsichore, but, above and beyond all, the hide of a rhinoceros.

How stylishly broken we all are.

I shuffle through the pile of rings. “We have Jupiter, Venus, Neptune, Bacchus, Juno, Mercury, Diana, Ceres … and we have a Minerva right here.” I frown and rummage around. “Hmm. Odd. I can’t find a Pluto.” I look up at him. His eyes are different. Dead. Quiet. “Oh, there’s one.

But if my forces are not enough, I am hardly the one to relent, I’ll plead for the help I need, wherever it may be - if I cannot sway the heavens, I’ll wake the powers of hell!

It’s a life skill, finding the sweet spot between solitude and loneliness.

the patriarchy, above all else, fears women coming together, so internal female division only succeeds in greasing that machine.

Because I know you, Percy Jackson. In many ways, you are impulsive, but when it comes to your friends, you are as constant as a compass needle. You are unswervingly loyal, and you inspire loyalty. You are the glue that will unite the seven.” “Great,” Percy said. “I always wanted to be glue.” Juno laced her crooked fingers.

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".

You've got a choice. Peace or war? Life or death? Harmony or hate? I've never understood why that even needs discussion, it's so flippin' obvious!

Both history and the past are fiction. Only the present is real.

Mum, you're freaking me out. You're not a witch. You shop at Next.

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.

The novel cannot submit to authority.

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

A beginning often signals an end. That's the thing with dawn... you must first get through the night.

This is a tale of arms and of a man. Fated to be an exile, he was the first to sail from the land of Troy and reach Italy, at its Lavinian shore. He met many tribulations on his way both by land on on the ocean; high Heaven willed it, for Juno was ruthless and could not forget her anger.

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.

Remember this, whoever you are, however you are, you are equally valid, equally justified and equally beautiful.

I'm dead inside so my eyes remain dry

I never realize how much I like being home unless I've been somewhere really different for a while.

Jupiter's welcome to more from his Juno if he can get it

I was no longer in the mood for hamburger phones and a whacked out girl named Juno.

Arma virumque cano........." *Literally: "I sing of arms and man". __I sing the praises of a man's struggles__” Translation of the opening verses of the first book of Virgil´s Aeneid, by John Dryden( XVII century) "Arms, and the man I sing, who, forc\'d by fate, And haughty Juno\'s unrelenting hate, Expell\'d and exil\'d, left the Trojan shore. Long labors, both by sea and land, he bore, And in the doubtful war, before he won The Latian realm, and built the destin\'d town; His banish\'d gods restor\'d to rites divine, And settled sure succession in his line, From whence the race of Alban fathers come, And the long glories of majestic Rome".

Reasons aren't really things that make you do other things. Reasons are things that you make up, much later, to reassure everyone that we are all logical and that the world makes sense. We do unreasonable things, because we want to, at the time. No reason. Much later we sit in the wreckage, building reasons out of little bits of wreckage, so we'll have something to show the crash investigators. Look, this is what caused it. So the whole mess at least appears reasonable. So we can convince ourselves that at least there was a reason for the disaster, something we can prevent or avoid, so it'll never happen again. But a lot of the time there's no reason. We just flew it to the ground. Because we felt like it. And we're still dangerous. And it could happen again anytime. Its easier to live with each other afterwards if we give each other reasons.

But there were also times when she cried out in the darkness biting her lips - cried out against the substance of her age: for it was now that she should be young; now above all other times, with the wisdom in her, the wisdom that was frittered away in her 'teens', set aside in her twenties, now, lying there, palpable and with forty summers gone. She clenched her hands together. What good was wisdom; what good was anything when the fawn is fled from the grove?

We don't really see much of London; we're too busy watching Londoners. And that's when I get it. All these people. We aren't broken. We're just alive.

I can't start the day without a cup of tea from my favourite mug, can you? I like Yorkshire Tea the best. What about you?

When you think of grandmothers, you imagine cuddly old ladies with mohair cardigans, tissues up their sleeves and an endless supply of Werther’s Originals.

I sometimes wonder if people are so wary of transgender progress because we highlight how something we often consider carved in stone can be so easily manipulated.

Where we’re from, both the location and the environment we’ve stewed in, has a massive impact on the adults we become.

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

I don’t think I like how you control me at times.' Her smile grew and after grabbing my hand, she pulled me toward the water. 'I could say the same thing about you when we’re fucking, but I’d be lying.

Wherever there are people in trouble, wherever there's danger. Wherever there's cruelty or intolerance. Wherever there are mad kings and wicked tyrants, the Doctor and her friends will be there to help those who need her the most.

You are never too young to learn that the whole world is largely run and designed for straight, white, cis men, or 'the patriarchy'.

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

That's the thing with kids, isn't it? You're never quite sure what you're going to get. If you don't want an LGBTQ+ child, use a condom!

This ain't a Cinderella story. Never was. It's Little Red Riding Hood. A lot of Little Red Riding Hoods, and a lot of Big Bad Wolves.

-Is anyone "blissfully happy" past the age of about ten? -Yes. Plenty of people. All the time, in fact.

Maybe that’s when you become a grown-up - when you stop feeling safe.

Juno’s swans,

To be fair, Hazel forged her body daily at the gym and Juno was deathly allergic to anything that elevated her heart rate.

My desk was a present from Margaret Atwood. After Zen and the Art of Uterus Maintenance sold its first million, she said I needed a place to write, other than the local bus-shelter.

Behold Lucius I am come, thy weeping and prayers hath mooved mee to succour thee. I am she that is the naturall mother of all things, mistresse and governesse of all the Elements, the initiall progeny of worlds, chiefe of powers divine, Queene of heaven! the principall of the Gods celestiall, the light of the goddesses: at my will the planets of the ayre, the wholesome winds of the Seas, and the silences of hell be diposed; my name, my divinity is adored throughout all the world in divers manners, in variable customes and in many names, for the Phrygians call me the mother of the Gods: the Athenians, Minerva: the Cyprians, Venus: the Candians, Diana: the Sicilians Proserpina: the Eleusians, Ceres: some Juno, other Bellona, other Hecate: and principally the Aethiopians which dwell in the Orient, and the Aegyptians which are excellent in all kind of ancient doctrine, and by their proper ceremonies accustome to worship mee, doe call mee Queene Isis. Behold I am come to take pitty of thy fortune and tribulation, behold I am present to favour and ayd thee, leave off thy weeping and lamentation, put away all thy sorrow, for behold the healthfull day which is ordained by my providence, therefore be ready to attend to my commandement. This day which shall come after this night, is dedicated to my service, by an eternall religion, my Priests and Ministers doe accustome after the tempests of the Sea, be ceased, to offer in my name a new ship as a first fruit of my Navigation.

I lean back into Noah, the air hitting my bare stomach as I arch my back a little. “Not too close,” someone tells Juno. “She’s his cousin.” Noah snorts, his chest shaking against my back.

Straightway [Juno] sought the filthy slimy shack Where Envy dwelt deep in a dreary dale, A gruesome sunless hovel, filled with frost, Heart-numbing frost, its stagnant air unstirred By any breeze, for ever lacking warmth Of cheerful fire, for ever wrapped in gloom. ... The door flew wide and there She saw foul Envy eating viper's flesh, Fit food for spite, and turned her eyes away. ... [Envy's] cheeks are sallow, her whole body shrunk, Her eyes askew and squinting; black decay Befouls her teeth, her bosom's green with bile, And venom coats her tongue. She never smiles Save when she relishes the sight of woe; Sleep never soothes her, night by night awake With worry, as she sees against her will Successes won and sickens at the sight. She wounds, is wounded, she herself her own torture,

Leonie was on a roll now. ‘From the second we’re born we’re made to feel insecure about our bodies, our choices, our lives. Then we hit puberty and all of a sudden we have to be both sexual and chaste at the same time, while our bodies are going fucking mental. We start leaking, for fuck’s sake. Then, after we’re covertly trained to conceal our excellence at school, we get to go work for men who don’t understand literally any of those dilemmas, and think they’re innately more skilled than us. They want you to be like men, but also not like men. It’s a fucking trap. We’re fucked as soon as the doctor says hun, it’s a girl.

The influence of Greek art and literature became so powerful in Rome that ancient Roman deities were changed to resemble the corresponding Greek gods, and were considered to be the same. Most of them, however, in Rome had Roman names. These were Jupiter (Zeus), Juno (Hera), Neptune (Poseidon), Vesta (Hestia), Mars (Ares), Minerva (Athena), Venus (Aphrodite), Mercury (Hermes), Diana (Artemis), Vulcan or Mulciber (Hephaestus), Ceres (Demeter).

There is no progressive version of criminalisation. Abuses such as racist policing, corruption, and sexual assault are fundamentally bound up with the vulnerability of the sex worker who, when defined as criminal, has little recourse to justice or protection.

I’ve NEVER been the cool guy. I guess it skips a generation? Because my daughters, Sami and Juno, are really cool. My wife, Melissa, was always a popular kid too. It’s weird to live in a home surrounded by the cool kids. I live in fear of walking into the living room, seeing them all talking and immediately stopping when they notice that I’m there. I ask them, “What’s going on?” My two-year-old, Juno, responds, “Nothing.” Then they all turn to each other, laugh conspiratorially, and walk out of the room together while looking back at me like, “Dork!

And a thought spoke quietly from under that thought, there is no God. God is a pattern we impose on chaos. Just like beauty. Saying, there, look at that one. God is not there. Nor beauty. He's over there, look. The red can cupping the sliver coin of light. God's beauty. In the desert of salt that we can't see at all, that surrounds us.

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

No panel, no scientist, no politician, not the WHO, no one can tell me – or you – how it feels to be male or female.

Getting through the day seems like a good place to start. I don't have to be strong for ever, just the next twenty- four hours. Even less than that.

Time is not ours to take or hold, pour or contain

LGBTQ+ people do not choose to be LGBTQ+. Bigots choose to hate.

The design is mine. The daring, yours.

Yes, you have Nana and Pops, you have a great kid, you have me. I am here for you every day, for forever, but please, Jess. It isn’t the same. You’re talking about wanting to have someone to come home to, to talk to, and yeah—to get naked with. It isn’t selfish to want that. You aren’t somehow putting Juno second by occasionally putting your needs first. Juno needs a happy mom.

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.

It's a struggle, life. Everyone is struggling with something. It's why we've got to be kind to each other, even when it's really fuckin' hard. You just don't know. You can't tell by looking. You can't tell by looking.

I will always come for you, Leaf. Cry out in pain, and I'll be there. Call my name, and I will raze entire cities to get to you. It will always be this way until desert sand fills my throat and I take my final choked breath.

I open the bag and dump out its contents. A score of golden sigil rings roll across the table. Lucian watches them roll. “These all come from the dead kids. The kids the medBots couldn’t save. Let’s see.” I shuffle through the pile of rings. “We have Jupiter, Venus, Neptune, Bacchus, Juno, Mercury, Diana, Ceres … and we have a Minerva right here.” I frown and rummage around. “Hmm. Odd. I can’t find a Pluto.” I look up at him. His eyes are different. Dead. Quiet. “Oh, there’s one.

I throw on some sweatpants and tell everyone I want a 'real' coffee which sounds more believable than telling them I'm going for a run. That would literally never happen unless I was running away from a murderer and even then I'd try to reason with him

Despite the new impediments that DeWolf faced, he became more powerful than ever. On December 4, 1795, his ship the Juno sold seventy-five slaves valued at $19,390 at an undisclosed location in the West Indies. Then, on January 9, 1796, this same ship landed in Havana and sold the remaining slaves from the same voyage, valued at $25,105. The next entry on the ship log for that year showed that DeWolf subcontracted with thirty-five different individuals to fulfill their requests for slaves. This exhibits an incessant need to obtain free labor at any cost, even illegally. DeWolf typically charged an average $40 consignment fee for each slave ordered, to be delivered to the original requester, along with a 5

Anti-prostitution feminism is a place where men can participate in flinging slurs like "holes," "whores," "orifices," and "cum dumpsters" at sex workers– and call it feminist analysis. It's a place where men who consider themselves feminist-aligned can patronize and dismiss prostitute women, as men have done for centuries. It's a place where a police officer can rifle through the bathroom bin at a sex worker's flat, retrieve blood-soaked tampons, publish photographs of them in his memoir (with a touching dedication to sex workers he has met in his work: 'this is my attempt to describe your reality'), and still be treated like a feminist activist. As sex worker Charlotte Shane observes, anti-prostitution feminism makes it progressive for men to dwell incessantly on violent, coercive sex and abject bodies while at the same time enjoying praise and even Pulitzer Prizes.

But south of the forest, well, that is an entirely different story.” Well that is an entirely different story. What a dedicated actor he is, his voice so crisp and dramatic. Next, he’ll tell me winter is coming and we need to battle the gray walkers, or the red riders, or whatever the blazes they’re called. I’m sick of this ridiculous farce. “So, tell me, Jon Snow, who lives south of the forest, then? Is it Goldilocks and the three bears?

Fr. Joseph is member of the missionary religious community located in the Diocese of Marquette, MI that enjoys the ecclesiastical approval of his local bishop and the added endorsements of two bishops of the Detroit Diocese. As an international association that promotes the Church’s mystical tradition, the missionary community provides solo-wilderness retreats at the CCL (Companions of Christ the Lamb) spiritual center that spans well over 1,000 acres of verdure in the village of Paradise, MI. Those interested in making solo-wilderness retreats to deepen their union with God’s Divine Will may contact Fr. Joseph at soulofjesus@juno.com.  Fr. Joseph is presently completing a dissertation on the writings and doctrines of the Servant of God Luisa Piccarreta at the Pontifical University of Rome. He is the author of five books on mystical and dogmatic theology, the initiator of international Divine Will communities and instructor on the proper theological presentation of the mystical gift of Living in God’s Divine Will. 

I'm just thinking. Someone asked me to do something and I'm not sure whether I should." Now Juno frowned. "Is it bad?" "No. Not bad." Purring, the cat climbed up onto Juno's chest. "Is someone going to get hurt?" "I hope not," Jess said. "I don't think so." "Do you feel unsafe?" Jess bit her lips, trying to hold in a charmed laugh, This kid was repeating exactly what she would say if their positions were reversed. "No." Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to her head. "I don;t feel unsafe." Once she sat up again, her daughter pinned her with a stern look. "Will you be lying?" You're an important part of our research study, one-half of a score we need to validate - our invalidate - our binning paradigm prior to launch. She shook her head. "I won't be lying." Juno set her book on the nightstand and scooped up Pigeon before snuggling them both down into her comforter. "Would you learn something?" Jess felt an intense pulse of pride in her kid, and the knee-jerk negative answer evaporated in her mouth. Because... maybe she would.

The road climbs curving out of wet ground thick with cedars, and up onto a plateau meadow where Jersey cows, beautiful as deer, watching them with Juno eyes. Along the trail the ferns are dense, drooping with wet, twenty kinds of them. Again he does not know them (in my experience, ferns are an exclusively feminine expertise), and she tells him: hayscented fern, wood fern, sensitive fern, cinnamon fern, ostrich fern, interrupted fern, Christmas fern, bracken, maidenhair - names that are as pleasant to his ear as the woods smells are to his nose. In the intervals between clumps of spruce, the moss spreads a green carpet, inches thick, feather-soft, with candles of ground pine and the domes of spotted orange mushrooms rising out of it... Those aren't toadstools, Those are mushrooms. Deadly Amanita mushrooms. Ne mangez pas. You know everything that grows here. That's wonderful." Not so wonderful. I grew up here. I grew up in Sewickley, Pennsylvania, too, but I couldn't tell you the name of one thing that grows there. One, maybe Lilacs. You didn't grow up with my mother.

Prostitution arrests are racist. They have always been racist. In 1866, San Francisco police arrested 137 women, 'virtually all Chinese'; the police boasted that they had 'expelled three hundred Chinese women.' In the 1970s, the American Civil Liberties Union found that black women were seven times more likely to be arrested for prostitution-related offenses than white women. This disparity is no relic of the past: between 2012 and 2015, 85 percent of people charged with 'loitering for the purpose of prostitution' in New York City were Black or Latinx- groups that only make up 54 percent of the city's population. Increases in prostitution enforcement mean increases in the arrests of women of color. Between 2012 and 2016, the New York Police Department stepped up enforcement mean increases in the arrest of women of color. Between 2012 and 2016, the New York Police Department stepped up enforcement targeting massage parlors. As journalist Melissa Gira Grant details, during this period the arrests of Asian people in New York charged either with 'unlicensed massage' or prostitution went up by 2,700 percent. Arrests on the street target Black and Latina women - who may not even be selling sex - simply for wearing 'tight jeans' or a crop top. The NYPD do not arrest white women in affluent areas of the city for wearing jeans.

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.