Mino Quotes

We did all the standard camp numbers: "Down By The Aegean," "I Am My Own Great-Great-Great-Great Grandpa," "This Land is Minos's Land.

That's better," Mino said with a satisfied nod. "Anybody else wanna pee their pants and cry for their mommy?

Mazina’iganan mino-mshkikiiwin aawen. Books are good medicine! (From the author's note)

After his experience with Minos, Nico realized that most spectres held only as much power as you allowed them to have. They pried into your mind, using fear or anger or longing to influence you. Nico had learned to shield himself. Sometimes he could even turn the tables and bend ghosts to his will.

He rushed past the usual fragments of painful memories – his mother smiling down at him, her face illuminated by the sunlight rippling off the Venetian Grand Canal; his sister Bianca laughing as she pulled him across the Mall in Washington, D.C., her green floppy hat shading her eyes and the splash of freckles across her nose. He saw Percy Jackson on a snowy cliff outside Westover Hall, shielding Nico and Bianca from the manticore as Nico clutched a Mythomagic figurine and whispered, I’m scared. He saw Minos, his old ghostly mentor, leading him through the Labyrinth. Minos’s smile was cold and cruel. Don’t worry, son of Hades. You will have your revenge.

And once upon a time I wondered: Is writing epic fantasy not somehow a betrayal? Did I not somehow do a disservice to my own reality by paying so much attention to the power fantasies of disenchanted white men? But. Epic fantasy is not merely what Tolkien made it. This genre is rooted in the epic — and the truth is that there are plenty of epics out there which feature people like me. Sundiata’s badass mother. Dihya, warrior queen of the Amazighs. The Rain Queens. The Mino Warriors. Hatshepsut’s reign. Everything Harriet Tubman ever did. And more, so much more, just within the African components of my heritage. I haven’t even begun to explore the non-African stuff. So given all these myths, all these examinations of the possible… how can I not imagine more? How can I not envision an epic set somewhere other than medieval England, about someone other than an awkward white boy? How can I not use every building-block of my history and heritage and imagination when I make shit up? And how dare I disrespect that history, profane all my ancestors’ suffering and struggles, by giving up the freedom to imagine that they’ve won for me.

You rang, Mino- well, you’re not really the Minor Master anymore, are you? What should I call you? (Asmodeus) Think of a polite term, demon. (Jericho) Mister Master it is. What can I do for you? (Asmodeus)

Minos laughed. "You have no power over me. I am the god of spirits! The ghost king!" "No." Nico drew his sword. "I am.

You shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze,” I remembered. “The dead, the traitor, and the lost one raise. We raised a lot of the dead. We saved Ethan Nakamura, who turned out to be a traitor. We raised the spirit of Pan, the lost one.” Annabeth shook her head like she wanted me to stop. “You shall rise or fall by the ghost king’s hand,” I pressed on. “That wasn’t Minos, like I’d thought. It was Nico. By choosing to be on our side, he saved us. And the child of Athena’s final stand—that was Daedalus.” “Percy—” “Destroy with a hero’s final breath. That makes sense now. Daedalus died to destroy the Labyrinth. But what was the last—” “And lose a love to worse than death.” Annabeth

The broken branch hissed loudly, and then that wind was converted into these words: "Briefly will you be answered. When the fierce soul departs from the body from which it has uprooted itself, Minos sends it to the seventh mouth. It falls into the wood, and no place is assigned to it, but where chance hurls it, there it sprouts like a grain of spelt. It grows into a shoot, then a woody plant; the Harpies, feeding on its leaves, give it pain and a window for the pain. Like the others, we will come for our remains, but not so that any may put them on again, for it is not just to have what one has taken from oneself. Here we will drag them, and through the sad wood our corpses will hang, each on the thornbrush of the soul that harmed it.

I’ve done some exploring,” he said. “Thought you’d like to know, Daedalus got his punishment.” “You saw him?” Nico nodded. “Minos wanted to boil him in cheese fondue for eternity, but my father had other ideas. Daedalus will be building overpasses and exit ramps in Asphodel for all time. It’ll help ease the traffic congestion. Truthfully, I think the old guy is pretty happy with that. He’s still building. Still creating. And he gets to see his son and Perdix on the weekends.

- Mino, toglimi una curiosità. Come si pronuncia il tuo cognome? Dove va l’accento? Ràiola o Raiòla? - Come vuoi tu, basta che mi paghi.

Minos says I'm nothing more than Nothing. Can Nothing take a form and call it me? But nothing is ever what it seems. Watch Nothing laugh. See Nothing cry. Hear Nothing scream.

Mazina’iganan mino-mshkikiiwin aawen. Books are good medicine!

but I foamed with anger for Minos as well and even for Poseidon – these men, these gods who toyed with our lives and cast us aside when we had been of use to them, who laughed at our suffering or forgot our existence altogether.

Eis os únicos barcos que temos para voltar a nossa pátria; eis nosso único meio de escapar de Minos. Ele, que fechou todas as outras saídas, não pode fechar o ar para nós; resta-nos o ar; fenda-o graças a minha invenção. Mas não é para a virgem de Tégia, nem para o companheiro de Boótes, que é preciso olhar, mas para Orião, armado com uma clava; é por mim que você deve orientar sua marcha com as asas que eu lhe darei; irei na frente para mostrar o caminho; preocupe-se somente em me seguir; guiado por mim você estará seguro, se através das camadas do éter, nós nos aproximarmos do sol, a cera não poderá suportar o calor; se, descendo, agitarmos as asas muito perto do mar, nossas plumas, batendo, serão molhadas pelas águas marinhas. Voe entre os dois. Preste atenção também nos ventos, meu filho; onde seu sopro o guiar, deixe-se levar em suas asas." (Conselhos de Dédalo a Ícaro - em A Arte de Amar)

Often in actual life, and not infrequently in the myths and popular tales, we encounter the dull case of the call unanswered; for it is always possible to turn the ear to other interests. Refusal of the summons converts the adventure into its negative. Walled in boredom, hard work, or "culture," the subject loses the power of significant affirmative action and becomes a victim to be saved. His flowering world becomes a wasteland of dry stones and his life feels meaningless—even though, like King Minos, he may through titanic effort succeed in building an empire of renown. Whatever house he builds, it will be a house of death: a labyrinth of cyclopean walls to hide from him his Minotaur.

Birini ölümüne kırdıysan ve bu tamir edemeyeceğin bir şeyse sen de orta yerinden kırılmışsın demektir. Farkında olmasan da...

Statements that will hold good for all time are difficult to obtain in archaeology. The most that can be done at any one time is to report on the current state of knowledge.

Bir insan, yargılanmayı göze almadan kendisi olmayı nasıl başarabilir ki?

Minos, king of Crete, son of Zeus and a mortal woman.

Omnia possideat non possidet aera Minos

saffron. Not only Titans would attend. Minos was

Minos says I'm nothing more than Nothing. Can Nothing take a form and call it me? But Nothing is ever what it seems. Watch Nothing laugh. See Nothing cry. Hear Nothing scream.

Minos wanted to boil him in cheese fondue for eternity

And what possible use could my father, King Minos of Crete, ever have for a treacherous daughter?

Bizim şu karnımız var ya! Konuşmayıp da sustuklarımız, içimize attıklarımız, şiştiklerimiz, şişip de istifra edemediklerimiz... İşte bunlar bizi başka biri yapıyor, yabancı yapıyor.

[I]t's necessary to exert very great foresight every time you go to blame or praise a man, so that you won't speak incorrectly. . . . For you shouldn't suppose that, while stones are sacred and pieces of wood, and birds, and snakes, human beings are not. Rather of all these things, the most sacred is the good human being, while the most polluted is the wicked." Speech attributed to Socrates in Plato, Minos 319a, trans. Thomas L. Pangle, in The Roots of Political Philosophy: Ten Forgotten Socratic Dialogues, ed. Thomas L. Pangle (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1987), 63.

He watched in horror as something very much alive crawled out of the goo pit. It shook its sticky wet hair, which began to smolder and then caught fire. Its form was human, but with mismatched back legs: one shaggy and hooved like a donkey’s, the other constructed of bronze. An empousa. Nico’s grip tightened on his sword. He’d been kidnapped by one of these vampiric spirits after foolishly following Minos into the Labyrinth, and he was in no mood to be charmspoken to death. Taking advantage of the creature’s disorientation, he scrambled forward and drove his blade through its chest. The creature wailed. “I just regenerated!” she screamed. “Come on!

I looked at the priest. He had turned his face to the moon, which glittered on his open eyes; his body was quiet as the olive tree, or as a snake upon a stone. He seemed like a man who knew earth magic, and would prophesy in the madness of the dance. And then I thought of the great Labyrinth, which had stood a thousand years; and how Minos had said the god’s voice called them no longer. “All things change,” I thought, “except the gods who live for ever.

You can imagine how the Athenians felt when they learned that their top inventor and hard-drive repairman was now working for King Minos. It’d be kind of like if all of America’s best products were suddenly made in China. Oh, wait…

I didn't know much about men; between Minos, the Minotaur and now Cinyras, I hadn't wanted to learn. Or so I thought, until I caught the gaze of a handsome hostage and on the strength of that glance, let the fire he ignited within me burn down everything I knew.

Una vez, un adivino dijo que los hijos de Minos habían sido maldecidos por los dioses, y que llevaban la muerte en la sangre. Al pobre hombre lo colgaron de un árbol y lo desollaron vivo como castigo por su insolencia. Ahora sé que tenía toda la razón del mundo.

Let us reflect in another way, and we shall see that there is great reason to hope that death is a good; for one of two things—either death is a state of nothingness and utter unconsciousness, or, as men say, there is a change and migration of the soul from this world to another. Now if you suppose that there is no consciousness, but a sleep like the sleep of him who is undisturbed even by dreams, death will be an unspeakable gain. For if a person were to select the night in which his sleep was undisturbed even by dreams, and were to compare with this the other days and nights of his life, and then were to tell us how many days and nights he had passed in the course of his life better and more pleasantly than this one, I think that any man, I will not say a private man, but even the great king will not find many such days or nights, when compared with the others. Now if death be of such a nature, I say that to die is gain; for eternity is then only a single night. But if death is the journey to another place, and there, as men say, all the dead abide, what good, O my friends and judges, can be greater than this? If indeed when the pilgrim arrives in the world below, he is delivered from the professors of justice in this world, and finds the true judges who are said to give judgment there, Minos and Rhadamanthus and Aeacus and Triptolemus, and other sons of God who were righteous in their own life, that pilgrimage will be worth making. What would not a man give if he might converse with Orpheus and Musaeus and Hesiod and Homer? Nay, if this be true, let me die again and again.

But, to return to my design, what power was it that drew those stony, oaken, and wild people into cities but flattery? For nothing else is signified by Amphion and Orpheus' harp. What was it that, when the common people of Rome were like to have destroyed all by their mutiny, reduced them to obedience? Was it a philosophical oration? Least. But a ridiculous and childish fable of the belly and the rest of the members. And as good success had Themistocles in his of the fox and hedgehog. What wise man's oration could ever have done so much with the people as Sertorius' invention of his white hind? Or his ridiculous emblem of pulling off a horse's tail hair by hair? Or as Lycurgus his example of his two whelps? To say nothing of Minos and Numa, both which ruled their foolish multitudes with fabulous inventions; with which kind of toys that great and powerful beast, the people, are led anyway.

Minos had always spoken of the marriage I would make one day, a glorious union that would heap honor upon Crete. He should not have boasted. The creeping realization chilled my bones. How could I defend myself against his wrongdoing? If the gods were offended by him and struck down his wife, then why not his daughter?

All the merchants who passed through these waters wanted the rich city of Knossos as their customer, and Minos knew it. He welcomed them with wide, safe moorings and agents to collect for the privilege of using them. The inns and brothels belonged to Minos also, and the gold and jewels flowed like a great river to his hands.

F. CARY, M.A. HELL OR THE INFERNO Part 3. LIST OF CANTOS Canto 5 Canto 6 CANTO V FROM the first circle I descended thus Down to the second, which, a lesser space Embracing, so much more of grief contains Provoking bitter moans.  There, Minos stands Grinning with ghastly feature: he, of all Who enter, strict examining the crimes,

The guards’ spears rattled. King Minos entered, and went up the side of the dais, and sat upon his carved white throne, resting hands on knees like the gods of Egypt. He wore a long red belted robe, and he looked tall; but that might have been his horns. The light from the portico gleamed dimly back from his gold face and crystal eyes.

Our most heated argument concerned the preponderance of women in my epic and Athene’s ubiquity, and the precedence given to famous women when Odysseus meets the ghosts of the departed. I had mentioned only Tyro, Antiope, Alcmene, Jocasta, Chloris, Leda, Iphimedeia, Phaedra, Procris, Ariadne, Maera, Clymene and, naturally, Eriphyle, and let Odysseus describe them to Alcinous. “My dear Princess,” said Phemius, “if you really think that you can pass off this poem as the work of a man, you deceive yourself. A man would give pride of place to the ghosts of Agamemnon, Achilles, Ajax, Odysseus’s old comrades, and other more ancient heroes such as Minos, Orion, Tityus, Salmoneus, Tantalus, Sisyphus and Hercules; and mention their wives and mothers incidentally, if at all; and make at least one god help Odysseus at some stage or other.” I admitted the force of his argument, which explains why, now, Odysseus first meets a comrade who has fallen off a roof at Circe’s house—I call him Elpenor—and cracks a mild joke about Elpenor’s having come more quickly to the Grove of Persephone by land than he by sea. I also allow Alcinous to ask after Agamemnon, Achilles and the rest, and Odysseus to satisfy his curiosity. For Phemius’s sake I have even let Hermes supply the moly in passages adapted from my uncle Mentor’s story of Ulysses. In my original version I had given all the credit to Athene.

Il fascismo si divide in due parti: il fascismo propriamente detto e l'antifascismo.

It is my twofold aim to explore, first, how Cretan myth was used during the early decades of the twentieth century as a mirror for modern history, society, and the psyche; and, second, how this new perception of myth permeated all the arts simultaneously, including literature, painting, sculpture, prints, opera, ballet, and the theater, as well as popular culture. My undertaking is based on the underlying conviction that the transfiguration of classical myth in general constitutes one of the principal characteristics of classical modernism, without a grasp of which that period of twentieth-century culture cannot be fully appreciated. Among these transfigured myths, none are more conspicuous than the matters of Minos.

We passed old uncouth masonry that looked like the work of Titans or the first earth men. For this was the core of the foundations, belonging to the earliest House of the Ax, the stronghold of Cretan Minos, two palaces ago. These mighty piers, made strong with the blood of a thousand victims, had withstood the rage of Poseidon when every wall had fallen that stood above the ground.

No data are excluded on subjective or arbitrary grounds. No one piece of data is more highly valued than another. The consequences of this policy have to be accepted, even if they prove awkward.

I was not Minos’ captive daughter; I was not Cinyras’ trade for copper; nor was I Theseus’ diversion between heroic feats of glory. Somehow I had survived them all, and here I was, free of them at last. My life was before me, like one of the seeds that lay curled in my palm to sow. My destiny had never been my own until I left Crete and seized it for myself. So what was I now to make of it?

There was no wrestling; it seemed that had been settled already. But if you are supposing these were the funeral games of the dead King, you will be wrong; they were held in my honor. He was gone from sight and mind; I have grieved longer for a dog than they did for him. What is more, I was Kerkyon now. It is the style of Kings of Eleusis, like Pharaoh in Egypt and Minos in Crete. So the man had not even left a name behind him.

The inadequacy of unidimensional plotting along a continuum (in this case the diagonal of a symmetric matrix) inevitably would make "buffer" elements appear non-conformist when in fact they may be part of an interconnected pattern.

For many years Minos has been lucky to have in his court the most gifted inventor, the most skilled artificer outside of the Olympian forges of Hephaestus. His name is Daedalus and he is capable of fashioning moving objects out of metal, bronze, wood, ivory and gemstones. He has mastered the art of tightly coiling leaves of steel into powerful springs, which control wheels and chains to form intricate and marvellous mechanisms that mark the passage of the hours with great precision and accuracy, or control the levels of watercourses. There is nothing this cunning man cannot contrive in his workshop. There are moving statues there, men and women animated by his skill, boxes that play music and devices that can awaken him in the morning. Even if only half the stories of what Daedalus can achieve are true then you can be certain that no more cunning and clever an inventor, architect and craftsman has ever walked this earth.

THE first Greeks were all pirates. Minos, who enjoyed the empire of the sea, was only more successful, perhaps, than others in piracy; for his maritime dominion extended no farther than round his own isle. But when the Greeks became a great people, the Athenians obtained the real dominion of the sea; because this trading and victorious nation gave laws to the most potent monarch of that time; and humbled the maritime powers of Syria, of the isle of Cyprus, and Phœnicia.

Gold and bronze,” she said. “My mother was fair, but I am all Cretan. She was ashamed of me.” I said, “Bronze is more precious. From bronze come honor and life. Make my enemy a golden spear, and a sword blade too.” I did not like to speak of her mother, after all I had heard; so I kissed her instead. She hung all her weight upon my neck, and pulled me down to her. She was like a young salamander meeting flame; afraid at first, and only when flung in knowing its own element. There is an old saying that the house of Minos has sun-fire in the blood.

The first great Greek powers were the Mycenaeans who were basically pirates at first: they sacked Phoenician boats, rammed Cretan ships, and soon had enough goods to go into business for themselves. Around 1500 BCE, they destroyed the Minoan civilization on Crete. Their stories describe this as a war with an evil king Minos who kept demanding that the Greeks deliver virgins to him every year until finally the great Greek hero Theseus went over and crushed the bastard and, just to salt the wound, made off with his (virgin) daughter. The Cretan version of this event would probably be different, if we but knew it.

SOSTRATUS: Observe then your injustice! You punish us who are but the slaves of Clotho's bidding, and reward these, who do but minister to another's beneficence. For it will never be said that it was in our power to gainsay the irresistible ordinances of Fate? MINOS: Ah, Sostratus; look closely enough, and you will find plenty of inconsistencies besides these. However, I see you are no common pirate, but a philosopher in your way; so much you have gained by your questions. Let him go, Hermes; he shall not be punished after that. But mind, Sostratus, you must not put it into other people's heads to ask questions of this kind.

Insipid writer, you pretend to draw for your readers The portraits of your 3 impostors; How is it that, witlessly, you have become the fourth? Why, poor enemy of the supreme essence, Do you confuse Mohammed and the Creator, And the deeds of man with God, his author?... Criticize the servant, but respect the master. God should not suffer for the stupidity of the priest: Let us recognize this God, although he is poorly served. My lodging is filled with lizards and rats; But the architect exists, and anyone who denies it Is touched with madness under the guise of wisdom. Consult Zoroaster, and Minos, and Solon, And the martyr Socrates, and the great Cicero: They all adored a master, a judge, a father. This sublime system is necessary to man. It is the sacred tie that binds society, The first foundation of holy equity, The bridle to the wicked, the hope of the just. If the heavens, stripped of his noble imprint, Could ever cease to attest to his being, If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him. Let the wise man announce him and kings fear him. Kings, if you oppress me, if your eminencies disdain The tears of the innocent that you cause to flow, My avenger is in the heavens: learn to tremble. Such, at least, is the fruit of a useful creed.

She stood to them for the prayers King Minos had answered; for the oracles that had sweetened their coarse bread with mystery and hope; the little Cretan goddess, whom tall fair-haired Pasiphae had been ashamed of bearing. She was their own, their stake in the glories of the Labyrinth. She was the heart and kernel of the old religion, nearest to the Mother who takes men to her breast and soothes them like whipped children after her husband’s wrath. She was the Thrice Holy, the Most Pure, the Guardian of the Dance; and, seeing her, they remembered the sacrilege done before her in the ring, which had waked the Earth Bull to ravage Crete.

That so far the material has been dealt with in a rather subjective way provokes the question whether a means can be found of handling it objectively. [...] This chapter considers the applicability of the statistical tests employed by Wilson and the general problem whether the Linear B data are suited to statistical analysis.

She made herself ill remembering her last words to him, hearing them over and over as she carried her bucket up and down the stairs, as she ate her lonely soup, as she sat in the confessional before the priest. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” She leaned on the partition, feeling the dampness at her forehead and her breast from the holy water’s anointment. “It has been one month since my last confession.” “And what sins have you committed since then?” Father Marche’s question was so familiar, his cadence always precisely the same, kind but tired, a little bored. Violetta always gave her rote response: acts of laziness and selfishness, disobeying the prioress, taking the Lord’s name in vain. Not today. Her words choked her. She could hardly get them out. “I have lied to a friend.” Father looked at her through the grate. He’d never done that. “This weighs on you.” She nodded; tears spilled from her eyes. “It is unforgivable.” “Nothing is unforgivable with penance and contrition,” he said with a kind of faith Violetta could not muster. He went on about Hail Marys; she said them aloud in a daze. He gave her absolution, but it did nothing to ease her mind or heart. As she left the confessional, she felt diseased by her own actions. Mino thought she didn’t care. But apart from music, he was the best thing in her life.

And Zeus said: “Hera, you can choose some other time for paying your visit to Oceanus — for the present let us devote ourselves to love and to the enjoyment of one another. Never yet have I been so overpowered by passion neither for goddess nor mortal woman as I am at this moment for yourself — not even when I was in love with the wife of Ixion who bore me Pirithoüs, peer of gods in counsel, nor yet with Danaë, the daintly ankled daughter of Acrisius, who bore me the famed hero Perseus. Then there was the daughter of Phonenix, who bore me Minos and Rhadamanthus. There was Semele, and Alcmena in Thebes by whom I begot my lion-hearted son Heracles, while Samele became mother to Bacchus, the comforter of mankind. There was queen Demeter again, and lovely Leto, and yourself — but with none of these was I ever so much enamored as I now am with you.

But I said later, “What did you mean, when you said I married the sea?” She looked at me with deep bright eyes that were not childish. “Why do you think he threw the ring?” “To drown me, of course. He could not put me to death.” “So you did it without knowing; that makes it sure.” When I asked her what she meant, she said, “When a new Minos is proclaimed, he always marries the Sea Lady. He throws her a ring.” I remembered the native Cretans, staring and muttering. He had given them an omen to remember, that would seem to come by chance as true omens do. He had used me; a dog would have done as well. He had made light of me even in this. “So,” she said, “it made a fool of him when you brought it up again. But then you threw it in the sea, and married her yourself! How I laughed, inside my curtain! And then I thought, ‘Perhaps it is a true omen.’ I could tell the Cretans thought so.

Ode 4.7 Diffugere niues, redeunt iam gramina campis arboribus comae; mutat terra uices et decrescentia ripas flumina praetereunt; Gratia cum Nymphis geminisque sororibus audet ducere nuda chorus. Inmortalia ne speres, monet annus et almum quae rapit hora diem. Frigora mitescunt Zephyris, uer proterit aestas, interitura simul pomifer autumnus fruges effuderit, et mox bruma recurrit iners. Damna tamen celeres reparant caelestia lunae: non ubi decidimus quo pater Aeneas, quo diues Tullus et Ancus, puluis et umbra sumus. Quis scit an adiciant hodiernae crastina summae tempora di superi? Cuncta manus auidas fugient heredis, amico quae dederis animo. Cum semel occideris et de te splendida Minos fecerit arbitria, non, Torquate, genus, non te facundia, non te restituet pietas; infernis neque enim tenebris Diana pudicum liberat Hippolytum, nec Lethaea ualet Theseus abrumpere caro uincula Pirithoo.

Time out of mind, Minos had been High King of all the islands; they had traded by his laws and paid him his tribute. From Dia it had been very great, because the land was rich. This year it had been due again; now they would keep for themselves their olives and corn and sheep and honey, and their wine, than which there is none better; and all their boys and girls would dance at home. There was a feast tomorrow, of Dionysos, who himself planted the vine there, when he came sailing from the east as bridegroom of the Mother; and they would keep the day as it had never been kept before. But it surpassed all the rest for them, when they heard who Ariadne was. The people are mixed in Dia, but Naxos and its royal house are Cretan, the ancient stock without Hellene blood. They have the old religion, and a reigning Queen. So when they saw the Goddess-on-Earth among them, it was a greater thing than if Minos himself had come.

If we had enough data then this statistical approach would undoubtedly sort out these things, and a lot of problems are arising precisely because we haven't got enough documents for the statistical approach to be wholly valid. I know you can calculate levels of probability and so forth, but to establish this really clearly we want a lot more information than we have actually got available. This is surely our major problem that we are still at the very limits at which you can use a technique of this sort. - John Chadwick

I looked. The Palace stood on an easy slope; yet it had no more walls than a common dwelling-house might have, to keep thieves out and slaves in. The roofs were even without battlements, crowned only by their insolent horns, a pair facing each way. Such was the power of Minos. His walls were on the waters, which his ships commanded. I stared in silence, shutting my face on my despair. I felt like a child come among warriors with a wooden spear. Also I felt up-country, rude and ignorant, which hurts a young man more. “All very fine,” I said. “But if war came to Crete, they could not hold it a day.” Lukos had heard me. But here on his home ground he was too easy for anger. He said with his careless smile, “The House of the Ax has stood here a thousand years, and never fell yet except when the Earth Bull shook it. It was old when you Hellenes were herdsmen still on the northern grasslands. I see you doubt me, but that is natural. We have learned from the Egyptians to reckon years and ages. You, I think, have a saying, ‘Time out of mind.’” He strolled on, before I had an answer.

The aim of the research is to determine what groups can be drawn up as a result of regular association of place-names. A further step is to consider whether such groups have a geographical significance. This was accepted by Palmer as a reasonable hypothesis; Wilson argued the case for it by considering possible ways in which information to be recorded on the tablets was received by the scribes. Underlying this work is the assumption that groupings may have a geographical basis, but it has still to be shown that this is a reasonable assumption.

Theseus Within the Labyrinth pt.1 The lives of Greeks in the old days were deep, mysterious and often lead to questions like just what was wrong with Ariadne anyway, that’s what I’d like to know? She would have done anything for that rascally Theseus, and what did he do but sneak out in the night and row back to his ship with black sails. Let’s get the heck out of here, he muttered to his crew and they leaned on their oars as he went whack- whack on the whacking board—a human metronome of adventure and ill-fortune. She was King Minos’s daughter and had helped Theseus kill the king’s pet monster, her half-brother, so possibly he didn’t like feeling beholden—people might think he wasn’t tough. But certainly he’d spent his life knocking chips off shoulders and flattening any fellow reckless enough to step across a line drawn in the dust. If you wanted a punch thrown, Theseus was just the cowboy to throw it. I’m only happy when hitting and scratching, he’d told Ariadne that first night. So he’d been the logical choice to sail down from Athens to Crete to stop this nonsense of a tribute of virgins for some monster to eat. Those Cretans called it eating but Theseus thought himself no fool and liked a virgin as well as the next man. Not that he could have got into the Labyrinth without Ariadne’s help or out either for that matter. As for the Minotaur, lounging on his couch, nibbling grapes and sipping wine, while a troop of ex-virgins fluttered to his beck and call, Theseus must have scared the horns right off him, slamming back the door and standing there in his lion skin suit and waving that ugly club. The poor beast might have had a stroke had there been time before Theseus pummelled him into the earth. Then, with Ariadne’s help, Theseus escaped, and soon after he ditched her on an island and sailed off in his ship with black sails, which returns us to the question: Just what was wrong with Ariadne anyway?

Though Aristotle allows so many several forms of corrupted governments; yet he insists upon no one form of all those that he can define or describe, in such sort, that he is able to say that any one city in all Greece was governed just according to such a form; his diligence is only to make as many forms as the giddy or inconstant humour of a city could happen upon; he freely gives the people liberty to invent as many kinds of government as they please, provided he may have liberty to find fault with every one of them; it proved an easier work for him to find fault with every form, than to tell how to amend any one of them; he found so many imperfections in all sorts of common-weals, that he could not hold from reproving them before ever he tells us what a commonweal is, or how many sorts there are, and to this purpose he spends his whole second book in setting out, and correcting the chief commonweals of Greece, and among others the Lacedemonian, the Cretan and Carthaginian commonweals; which three he esteems to be much alike, and better than any other, yet he spares not to lay open their imperfections, and doth the like to the Athenian; wherein he breaks the rule of method, by delivering the faults of commonweals, before he teach us what a commonweal is; for in his first book, he speaks only of the parts, of which a city, or a commonweal is made, but tells us not what a city or commonweal is, until he come to his third book, and there in handling the sorts of government, he observes no method at all, but in a disorderly way, flies backward and forward from one sort to another: and howsoever there may be observed in him many rules of policy touching government in general, yet without doubt where he comes to discourse of particular forms, he is full of contradiction, or confusion, or both: it is true, he is brief and difficult, the best right a man can do him, is to confess lie understands him not; yet a diligent reader may readily discern so many irregularities and breaches in Aristotle's books of Politics, as tend to such distraction or confusion, that none of our new politicians can make advantage of his principles, for the confirmation of an original power by nature in the people, which is the only theme now in fashion: for Aristotle's discourse is of such commonweals as were founded by particular persons, as the Chalcedonian by Phaleas, the Milesian by Hippodamas, the Lacedemonian by Lycurgus, the Cretan by Minos, the Athenian by Solon, and the like: but the natural right of the people to found, or elect; their kind of government is not once disputed by him: it seems the underived majesty of the people, was such a metaphysical piece of speculation as our grand philosopher was not acquainted with; he speaks very contemptuously of the multitude in several places, he affirms that the people are base or wicked judges in their own cases, ‘οι πλειστοι φαυλοι κριται περι των οικειων and that many of them differ nothing from beasts; τι διαφερουσιν ενιοι των θηριων; and again he saith, the common people or freemen are such as are neither rich, nor in reputation for virtue; and it is not safe to commit to them great governments; for, by reason of their injustice and unskilfulness, they would do much injustice, and commit many errors and it is pleasanter to the multitude to live disorderly, than soberly, ‘ηδιον γαρ τοις πολλοις το ζην ατακτως η το σωφρονως.

On the western shore of this lake Amenhetep erected the "stately pleasure dome" ... This is the palace of him whom the Greeks called Memnon, who ruled Egypt when Israel was in bondage and when the dynasty of Minos reigned in Crete.

acontecimentos são sempre os mesmos, embora díspares quanto ao local, e as personagens se repetem à exaustão mesmo ao carregarem nomes diversos.

Quando foi anunciada a marcha iminente, a Marcha da Família, com Deus e pela Liberdade, o Formiga sugeriu “vamos assistir”. Abukir dera para segui-lo, recriminava a si próprio por aquela adesão tão resignada e, ao mesmo tempo, sujeitava-se à voz de comando, subjugado. Esforçava-se, inclusive, para ler O Capital. Postaram-se na esquina da Rua Marconi com a Barão de Itapetininga, passarela da marcha, vinham na frente os sócios do Clube Harmonia, secundados por seus choferes, jardineiros, mordomos, pedicuros, cozinheiras, manicures, copeiras, passadeiras, meninos de recado. Desfilaram logo atrás os sócios do Clube Paulistano, acompanhados por fâmulos menos numerosos, e assim por diante, conforme a hierarquia das agremiações frequentadas pela dita classe média. Marulhavam, na risada contida do Formiga, escárnio e raiva. No alto, içado o corpanzil a bordo de um helicóptero, o governador de São Paulo, Adhemar de Barros, sobrevoava a marcha a desfiar o rosário guardado no bolso do colete e dali extraído sempre que as circunstâncias assim recomendassem. A marcha estacou diante da Faculdade do Largo de São Francisco a criar uma simbiose perfeita entre suas pretensões e as do edifício.

Over the thousands of years, it seems things have not really changed much when you take out the things and think only of the people.... I deeply regret wasted time--for it was never mine alone to waste. I would rather be nothing in the eyes of the world, if something, anything of value in the eyes of God. Too often, myself guilty in the past, when I read poetry the "I" is prominent. I have come to a point in life where I would rather less to stand-out, be a dominant personality, and more to be part of the blended solutions. Too often we let the world measure our worth by what we have become referencing their values, excluding the far greater--all of them we have avoided becoming. On old age: if you keep your sense of humor, you have kept your best sense. The expression of love gives the soul wings, and a never-ending span of light.... Nothing is truly alive, if living outside of love. May that truth be fact, fiction or falsehood: what is memorable, the thing we can't reach and fully touch, but recognize as art, is always truth. Having lived with a cat for the past six years--I am thoroughly convinced that both Pavlov and his dog were conditioned by Pavlov's Cat.... We see and feel far less with our senses...and more with our predilections. Truth be told, no one sees truth clearly as God sees it. After speaking with a much younger man than myself today, I discovered, that reaching 70 years old has some unintended consequences--Intelligence. Though he or she may think so, no writer knows entirely what is being said (as for truth--a figment of intellectual imagination); but, to create a tingle in the reader (a living word...ah!) That is nearer Divine! Love needs no affirmation but its presence. If I could only keep from getting in my own way! When forgetting we are co-creators with God, our behavior is that of independent destroyers. Art! It is like human love--controlling and all consuming when living with it…death without it! If I have learned anything from life, it is that I know nothing; and the mystery of my journey is to douse the lesser-ego with incendiary making ready for Divine spark.... The all-seeing eye of the heart if allowed to open will always see love first.... Love is patient...quietly awaiting to show despite our rejection—abiding in silence as ordered until our cloaking lifted for release and full expression. What joy that moment of uncovering—the heart purely exposed, our greatest lamp. While looking at a picture of a magnificent wasps' nest I thought: 'Amazing how creatures so small seem to have capacity for thought so large....' Children do have a way of bringing us back into focus, usually throwing a slow curve that ends up being a strike to the heart of the matter. Some large lessons of love have come to me from much smaller sizes than myself.

what would you do if you see your exact face and body right in front of you, like when you look in the mirror but it is not a mirror ?" "I would tell him. you are doing good, keep going. i answered.

I trust a few people in my life but there is one who gets my full trust. and that is my book.

to be a gentleman and look good out there in the world. you should have to use the restroom every day more than 10 minutes before you go present yourself out there to the world

I am the son of Hades,” Nico insisted. “Be gone!” Minos laughed. “You have no power over me. I am the lord of spirits! The ghost king!” “No.” Nico drew his sword. “I am.” He stabbed his black blade into the floor, and it cleaved through the stone like butter.

« Je gardais le silence ou grognais n’importe quoi ; – les mots ne me sortaient plus. Forcément, mon gosier n’était plus apte à former des sons mais exclusivement des pierres. Elles me harcelaient toutes cependant, comme elles harcelaient les autres hommes, ne sachant pas à quoi elles s’exposaient : j’étais prêt à vomir un torrent de pierres. »

Sans la mer, sans les femmes, nous serions restés définitivement des orphelins ; elles nous couvrirent du sel de leur langue et cela, heureusement, préserva maints d’entre nous ! Il faudra le proclamer un jour publiquement.

Let us reflect in another way, and we shall see that there is great reason to hope that death is a good; for one of two things—either death is a state of nothingness and utter unconsciousness, or, as men say, there is a change and migration of the soul from this world to another. Now if you suppose that there is no consciousness, but a sleep like the sleep of him who is undisturbed even by dreams, death will be an unspeakable gain. For if a person were to select the night in which his sleep was undisturbed even by dreams, and were to compare with this the other days and nights of his life, and then were to tell us how many days and nights he had passed in the course of his life better and more pleasantly than this one, I think that any man, I will not say a private man, but even the great king will not find many such days or nights, when compared with the others. Now if death be of such a nature, I say that to die is gain; for eternity is then only a single night. But if death is the journey to another place, and there, as men say, all the dead abide, what good, O my friends and judges, can be greater than this? If indeed when the pilgrim arrives in the world below, he is delivered from the professors of justice in this world, and finds the true judges who are said to give judgment there, Minos and Rhadamanthus and Aeacus and Triptolemus, and other sons of God who were righteous in their own life, that pilgrimage will be worth making. What would not a man give if he might converse with Orpheus and Musaeus and Hesiod and Homer? Nay, if this be true, let me die again and again.

stood, poised, arm drawn back. For the long pointed horn made as good a javelin as it did a sword, and so could be used at a safer distance. The Minotaur whirled and charged again. Theseus waited until he was ten paces away, and then whipped his arm forward, hurling the javelin with all his strength. It entered the bull’s neck and came out the other side. But so powerful was the Minotaur’s rush, so stubborn his bestial strength, that he trampled on with the sharp horn through his neck and ran right over Theseus, knocking him violently to the ground. Then it whirled to try to stab Theseus with its horn; but the blood was spouting fast now, and the monster staggered and fell on the ground beside Theseus. Ariadne ran to the fallen youth. She turned him over, raised him in her arms; he was breathing. She kissed him. He opened his eyes, looked around, and saw the dead Minotaur; then he looked back at her and smiled. He climbed to his feet, leaning heavily on Ariadne. “Tell your thread to wind itself up again, Princess. We’re off to Athens.” When Theseus came out of the Labyrinth there was an enormous crowd of Cretans gathered. They had heard the sound of fighting, and, as the custom was, had gathered to learn of the death of the hostages. When they saw the young man covered with dirt and blood, carrying a broken horn, with Ariadne clinging to his arm, they raised a great shout. Minos was there, standing with his arms folded.

in Minoan Crete. An almost mind-boggling feat of athleticism and bravery, bull leaping was also a religious rite.5 The athlete, or acrobat, literally grabbed a bull by the horns; when, as a natural reaction, the bull rapidly raised its head, the acrobat was somersaulted into a backflip, the goal being to land on his feet either behind the bull or on the bull’s back. Failure to properly execute this leap meant a severe and probably fatal goring. The archaeologist, Arthur Evans, who first uncovered evidence of this activity when he unearthed the so-called Toreador Fresco at Knossos was the man who coined the term “Minoan” for this culture, after the mythical king Minos, who employed Daedalus to construct the famous labyrinth to contain the half bull–half human

every province had its own character, and in each one there was both appearance and reality. Even a province that seemed weak on the surface could have hidden strengths. Conversely, provinces that looked strong—like Mino and Suruga—might be rotten from within.

Minos tapped his chin. “I like your plan. Build this maze. We will call it…the Funhouse!” “Erm, I was thinking something more mysterious and terrifying,” Daedalus said. “Perhaps the Labyrinth?” “Fine. Whatever.

天日燦として焼くがごとし 出でゝ働かざる可からず

Annabeth knit her eyebrows. “We’ll have to talk to Tantalus, get approval for a quest. He’ll say no.” “Not if we tell him tonight at the campfire in front of everybody. The whole camp will hear. They’ll pressure him. He won’t be able to refuse.” “Maybe.” A little bit of hope crept into Annabeth’s voice. “We’d better get these dishes done. Hand me the lava spray gun, will you?” That night at the campfire, Apollo’s cabin led the sing-along. They tried to get everybody’s spirits up, but it wasn’t easy after that afternoon’s bird attack. We all sat around a semicircle of stone steps, singing halfheartedly and watching the bonfire blaze while the Apollo guys strummed their guitars and picked their lyres. We did all the standard camp numbers: “Down by the Aegean,” “I Am My Own Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandpa,” “This Land is Minos’s Land.” The bonfire was enchanted, so the louder you sang, the higher it rose, changing color and heat with the mood of the crowd. On a good night, I’d seen it twenty feet high, bright purple, and so hot the whole front row’s marshmallows burst into the flames. Tonight, the fire was only five feet high, barely warm, and the flames were the color of lint. Dionysus left early. After suffering through a few songs, he muttered something about how even pinochle with Chiron had been more exciting than this. Then he gave Tantalus a distasteful look and headed back toward the Big House. When the last song was over, Tantalus said, “Well, that was lovely!” He came forward with a toasted marshmallow on a stick and tried to pluck it off, real casual-like. But before he could touch it, the marshmallow flew off the stick. Tantalus made a wild grab, but the marshmallow committed suicide, diving into the flames. Tantalus turned back toward us, smiling coldly. “Now then! Some announcements about tomorrow’s schedule.” “Sir,” I said. Tantalus’s

This neglect of lore associated with Crete is reflected in classical Greek art and literature although, paradoxically, its remnants are found only in Attic myths.6

as they say, a Cretan is attacking a Cretan” (quod dici solet, Cretensis incidit in Cretensem); that is, “it takes a thief to catch a thief,” or “it takes one to know one

Sonunda şu fikre vardık ki, güçlü olmak denen şey, çaresizlikten doğuyor. Işığın, karanlığı beyaza boyaması gibi bir şey... Karanlık olmazsa ışığı hissedemeyiz ki...

Finally Aegeus was forced to surrender. Minos promised to lay off the destruction, but once every seven years, Athens had to send their seven bravest young men and seven most beautiful young ladies to Crete as tributes, where they were fed to the Minotaur in the Labyrinth. If you’re thinking that sounds like The Hunger Games, that’s because this story inspired that one. And, no, the Labyrinth wasn’t televised, but only because Daedalus hadn’t invented TV yet.

am the son of Hades,” Nico insisted. “Be gone!” Minos laughed. “You have no power over me. I am the lord of spirits! The ghost king!” “No.” Nico drew his sword. “I am.

I am the son of Hades,” Nico insisted. “Be gone!” Minos laughed. “You have no power over me. I am the lord of spirits! The ghost king!” “No.” Nico drew his sword. “I am.

Before the golden age of heroes, there was an age of bronze; before Minos built his labyrinth, before Helen the beautiful fled to Troy, there was an island in the navel of the sea coveted by all the gods...

Apollo alone stands apart. If I were Minos, a newcomer to this city who’s obviously looking to make his own grab for power, Apollo is where I would strike. He’s the cornerstone of the alliance that pledges to Zeus. Without him, Zeus would keep Ares and Aphrodite at his side, by virtue of them being his sisters, but would he be able to keep the rest?

Unlike some of my peers, Hades can see the writing on the wall. If Minos gets his way, then the murder of the last Hephaestus is only the beginning of the trouble we’ll see. It doesn’t mean he likes my methods, but he’s agreed to stay out of my way as long as I don’t endanger any of the precious citizens of his lower city. He wouldn’t thank me for including Eurydice in my plans, but what Hades doesn’t know won’t hurt him. And what Persephone doesn’t know won’t hurt me.

the island’s legendary king, Minos, when its remains are discovered three and a half millennia later.

If Minos intends to match his children with powerful people, Adonis shouldn’t be on the list. He’s arguably the least powerful person in this room, excepting me. It makes about as much sense as attacking Pan.

the Judges, those who are meant to decide the ultimate destination of your soul. Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus.

For they all now realized that the greatest of sights which any seafaring man could ever hope to see was now before their eyes: they had witnessed the White Visage of Poseidon, observing them from beyond the confines of the sea. And so, with chattering teeth and with self-abasing thoughts, fearing dreadfully the White Visage, which constantly released beams of gold as though a prodigious mass of ice was floating in the sea and reflecting the sun, they pressed upon their oars and departed from these waters, leaving the Lord of Depths to enjoy his godly rest undisturbed. And now, they all realized that despite the numerous dangers undoubtedly still lurking ahead, from now on, nothing could prevent their safe return home. For he who has seen the Face of God and has not perished, can easily defy all forces of man, land, and sea. Once more, the distant Visage produced a flash upon the confines of the horizon and vanished forever: the Lord of Depths had descended to his peaceful palaces beneath, where he dwelled amongst the souls of courageous seafarers and in the presence of their faithful ships.

Though the distance was still considerable, they could see quite clearly a circle of colossal boulders, hewn into the shape of massive columns, linked together by a line of long beams of stone running from one top of a column to the next. They noticed two or three of these rings in all and also a few individual boulders upon the confines of the summit, each one a mighty column pushing up towards the heavens like a solitary tower. “What is it?” whispered Perilavos. “A temple? It cannot be, for it has no roof, and there is no settlement nearby over which a deity could rule! And where are the people? Surely we would have seen them wandering about!”“That is true,” Harmostayos nodded. This time, he did not smile, as was his custom. “But remember, Perilavos, that whoever arranged this formidable ring is undoubtedly a nation both numerous and powerful, not a tribe of savage barbarians which would be too weak and ignorant to drag those boulders along and arrange them with such ingenuity. Moreover, if yonder columns are hewn out of single pieces of rock, which appears to be the case, it would take hundreds of men to break them free, shape them, bring them here, raise them high, and then place them on top of one another!” He fell silent.

The entire slope and the astounding ring of stones towered even higher now, and they realized that each boulder was much larger than they had first thought when seeing them from afar. Even if three men, one standing on the shoulders of another, were to stretch their hands towards those stones, the one standing highest would still have difficulty in reaching the towering line of magnificently fashioned transverse rocks, just as huge as those upon which they rested and undoubtedly just as heavy. A great many men of admirable strength and ingenuity had been needed to place them there. Whitehair thought of the giants of the north, of which so much had been spoken in Knossos , and shuddered. But then he recalled the temples and statues of Egypt, which were incomparably larger and yet built by mortal men.

And my people, they too remain ignorant, for only I and the older priests are initiated! When the time is right, they send word throughout the land, calling together the many tribes of this domain, of which I am the ruler, inviting them to participate in the coming festivities. And so you see, no stranger will ever learn the time.

And though god-resembling Vidvoyos believes that his name will also last, who knows what will happen after we are dead? With the passage of time, many a city will add the names of its heroes to our achievement and leave out ours. And this will go on and on until, at last, everything is changed so that even we, the seafarers who took part in this journey, would fail to recognize our actions or adventures or indeed ourselves. But why worry about such things when we are mortal and, in the end, we must return to dust? How sleepy I am! All night I peered into the darkness like a fool, fearing to see those hostile Phoenicians while they no doubt slept upon their comfortable beds in their safe harbors, utterly unaware of us, the immortal heroes whose homeland awaits us with certain death! Enough! Farewell to you, my hero, who has seen the fleece of gold!

You are a true warrior now ,” Vidvoyos said with a gentle smile as though he had not noticed this before. “If you wish to save your life, it will be better for you to be alone. You are young, and maybe happiness will come your way, though not in the form of which we had dreamt. But youth in itself is a kingdom of its own!