Nefertiti Quotes

Nefertiti, the most beautiful calico in the world, chose me as her own six short years ago.

Men chase by night those they will not greet by day.

I wonder if our names determine our destiny, or if destiny leads us to choose certain names.

You can't change the desert. You can only take the fastest course through it. Wishing it's an oasis won't make it so...

Queens   “What is a queen without a king?” I don’t know, butlet’s ask Cleopatra, Nefertiti, Hatshepsut, Sammuramat, Victoria, Elizabeth, mina, Tzu-hsi, and the countless other kingless queens who turned mere kingdoms into the greatest of empires.

Nothing is forever...nothing lasts.

Ego Tripping I was born in the congo I walked to the fertile crescent and built the sphinx I designed a pyramid so tough that a star that only glows every one hundred years falls into the center giving divine perfect light I am bad I sat on the throne drinking nectar with allah I got hot and sent an ice age to europe to cool my thirst My oldest daughter is nefertiti the tears from my birth pains created the nile I am a beautiful woman I gazed on the forest and burned out the sahara desert with a packet of goat's meat and a change of clothes I crossed it in two hours I am a gazelle so swift so swift you can't catch me For a birthday present when he was three I gave my son hannibal an elephant He gave me rome for mother's day My strength flows ever on My son noah built new/ark and I stood proudly at the helm as we sailed on a soft summer day I turned myself into myself and was jesus men intone my loving name All praises All praises I am the one who would save I sowed diamonds in my back yard My bowels deliver uranium the filings from my fingernails are semi-precious jewels On a trip north I caught a cold and blew My nose giving oil to the arab world I am so hip even my errors are correct I sailed west to reach east and had to round off the earth as I went The hair from my head thinned and gold was laid across three continents I am so perfect so divine so ethereal so surreal I cannot be comprehended except by my permission I mean...I...can fly like a bird in the sky...

My love is unique an none can rival her. Just by passing, she has already stolen away my heart.

Eroticism is mystique; that is, the aura of emotion and imagination around sex. It cannot be 'fixed' by codes of social or moral convenience, whether from the political left or right. For nature's fascism is greater than that of any society. There is a daemonic instability in sexual relations that we may have to accept.

I held Nefertiti's body closer to mine, trying to press her spirit into me, to bring it back. But the reign of Nefertiti was finished. She was gone from Egypt.

The western mind makes definitions; it draws lines.

And I am ashamed to write here that I felt more alive than ever, even though my heart was broken glass in my chest.

The One God fashioned women to expose the elements men are made of" said Queen Nefertiti.

Are we immortal?" he paused in his exploration of her skin. Mischief shone in her eyes. "Want me to shoot you and find out?

All roads from Rousseau lead to Sade.

Society is a system of inherited forms reducing our humiliating passivity to nature.

At some level, all love is combat, a wrestling with ghosts.

Psychoanalysis [...] overestimates the linguistic character of the unconscious. Dreaming is a pagan cinema.

Just then a word floated out through the buzz saw of Zapata-speak: Nefertari. Dan tuned back in. "...the most beautiful tomb in Egypt," Ms. Zapata was saying. "You probably know the queen because there's a famous bust of her." A photo flashed on the screen. Dan raised his hand. "That's Nefertiti," he said. "Different queen." Ms. Zapata frowned. She looked at her notes. "You could be right, Dan. Uh...let's move on." Another slide flashed on-screen. "Now, this is the inner chamber of the tomb, where she was laid to rest." Dan's hand rose again. Ms. Zapata closed her eyes. "Actually? That's the side chamber." "Really." Ms. Zapata's lips pressed together. "And how do you know this, Dan?" "Because..." Dan hesitated. Because I was there. Because I was locked inside the tomb with an ex-KGB spy, so I got to know it pretty well. "Especially since the tomb is closed for conservation," Ms. Zapata said. Yeah. But we had this connection to an Egyptologist? Except he turned out to be a thief and a liar, so we captured him. I came this close to smashing him with a lamp...

The purpose of collecting so much information can only be power.

do you tell if someone is immortal?” she whispered. “You kill them, and see if they get up again,” he answered, always pragmatic.

In Egypt, there is a saying: When good fortune looks down upon us, it does so in threes, one for each part of the Eye of Horus. His upper lid, his lower lid and the eye itself.

Reunion with the mother is a siren call haunting our imagination. Once there was bliss, and now there is struggle. Dim memories of life before the traumatic separation of birth may be the source of Arcadian fantasies of a lost golden age.

[W]earisome as it may seem, women must realize that, in making a commitment to a man, they have merged in his unconscious with his mother and have therefore inherited the ambivalence of that relationship.

Not untill all babies are born from glass jars will the combat cease between mother and son. But in a totalitarian future that has removed procreation from woman's hands, there will also be no affect and no art. Men will be machines, without pain but also without pleasure. Imagination has a price, which we are paying every day. There is no escape from the biologic chains that bind us.

Consciousness is a pitiful hostage of its flesh-envelope, whose surges, circuits, and secret murmurings it cannot stay or speed. This is the chthonian drama that has no climax but only an enedless round, cycle upon cycle. Microcosm mirrors macrocosm. Free will is stillborn in the red cells of our body, for there is no free will in nature. Our choices come to us prepackaged and special delivery, molded by hands not our own.

Nefertiti Speaks: Sands of time released my ancient image to awaken you to the artistry and splendour of Egypt’s Camelot No mystery am I A modern woman trapped in an old time Go forward, beautiful ladies, and create new worlds of artistry and beauty out of the sands of time

To the white world we lived in, a hoodie plus a Black male was synonymous with danger.

Nature is forever playing solitaire with herself.

I let myself be led out, but at the doors of the Great Hall, I turned. "I will never forgive this," I swore, and Nefertiti knew it was meant for her. "I will never forgive this so long as the sun sets on Amarna!" I screamed.

Becoming a mother forced me to have hope.

Women of any race shouldn’t have to be superstars for our status as mothers to be respected, no matter what each woman’s path to motherhood is.

Man's spiritual trajectory ends in the rubbish heap of his own mother-born body.

Jonas Wergeland's first stroke of genius, albeit unbeknownst to himself, was to choose a girl as his best friend. It was Nefertiti who taught him that women are, first and foremost, teachers then mistresses - and above all that when you come right down to it, the female is a very different and, more o the point, a much more fascinating creature than the male.

Venus of Willendorf carries her cave with her. She is blind, masked. Her ropes of corn-row hair look forward to the invention agriculture. She has a furrowed brow. Her facelessness is the impersonality of primitive sex and religion. There is no psychology or identity yet, because there is no society, no cohesion. Men cower and scatter at the blast of the elements. Venus of Willendorf is eyeless because nature can be seen but not known. She is remote even as she kills and creates. The statuette, so overflowing and protuberant, is ritually invisible. She stifles the eye. She is the cloud of archaic night.

If sexual physiology provides the pattern for our experience of the world, what is woman's basic metaphor? It is mystery, the hidden. Karen Horney speaks of a girl's inability to see her genitals and a boy's ability to see his as the source of "the greater subjectivity of women as compared with the greater objectivity of men." To rephrase this with my different emphasis: men's delusional certitude that objectivity is possible is based on the visibility of their genitals. Second, this certitude is a defensive swerve from the anxiety-inducing invisibility of the womb. Women tend to be more realistic and less obsessional because of their toleration for ambiguity which they learn from their inability to learn about their own bodies. Women accept limited knowledge as their natural condition, a great human truth that a man may take a lifetime to reach. The female body’s unbearable hiddenness applies to all aspects men’s dealings with women. What does it look like in there? Did she have an orgasm? Is it really my child? Who was my real father? Mystery surrounds women’s sexuality. This mystery is the main reason for the imprisonment man has imposed on women. Only by confining his wife in a locked harem guarded by eunuchs could he be certain that her son was also his.

Nefertiti!" I shouted. "Meritaten!" How could they both be gone? Where could they be? I rounded the corner to the window of Appearences, then opened the door. The blood had already spread across the tiles. "Nefertiti!" I screamed, and my voice echoed through the palace.

Olursa iyi olur ama ne Nefertiti,ne de Isenheim Mihrabı istediğim yok benim.Tuttuğunu koparan erkeklerden bahsetmedim,çünkü nefret ederim öylelerinden,onlardan daha can sıkıcı kimse yoktur benim için;çokluk leş gibi hüner marifet kokar onlar.Ama neyi ciddiye aldığını bir bilsem senin!Başka erkeklerin önem verdiği hiçbir şeye aldırmıyorum;bir iki şey de var ki,öbür erkeklerin verdiği değerden daha değerli senin için.Bir iş sahibi olamadın...

Everything is melting in nature. We think we see objects, but our eyes are slow and partial. Nature is blooming and withering in long puffy respirations, rising and falling in oceanic wave-motion. A mind that opened itself fully to nature without sentimental preconception would be glutted by nature’s coarse materialism, its relentless superfluity. An apple tree laden with fruit: how peaceful, how picturesque. But remove the rosy filter of humanism from our gaze and look again. See nature spuming and frothing, its mad spermatic bubbles endlessly spilling out and smashing in that inhuman round of waste, rot, and carnage. From the jammed glassy cells of sea roe to the feathery spores poured into the air from bursting green pods, nature is a festering hornet’s nest of aggression and overkill. This is the chthonian black magic with which we are infected as sexual beings; this is the daemonic identity that Christianity so inadequately defines as original sin and thinks it can cleanse us of. Procreative woman is the most troublesome obstacle to Christianity’s claim to catholicity, testified by its wishful doctrines of Immaculate Conception and Virgin Birth. The procreativeness of chthonian nature is an obstacle to all of western metaphysics and to each man in his quest for identity against his mother. Nature is the seething excess of being.

El artista no hace su arte para salvar a la humanidad, sino para salvarse a sí mismo. Todo comentario benévolo de un artista a este respecto no será sino echar una cortina de humo, ocultar el rastro sangriento de su asalto contra la realidad y los otros.

Because he is weak and shallow, and you should learn to recognize men who are afraid of others with power, Mutnodjmet.

An aesthete does not necessarily dress well or collect art works: an aesthete is one who lives by the eye.

Incarnation, the limitation of mind by matter, is an outrage to the imagination.

Like art, sex is fraught with symbols. Family romance (Freud) means that adult sex is always representation, ritualistic acting out of vanished realities.

The best sculpture, like the head of Nefertiti, says again and again, "The Beautiful One was here, is here, and will be here, forever.

Nefertiti is a face without a queen; Cleopatra is a queen without a face.

At some level, all love is combat, a wrestling with ghosts. We are only for something by being against something else. People who believe they are having pleasant, casual, uncomplex sexual encounters, whether with friend, spouse, or stranger are blocking from consciousness the tangle of psychodynamics at work, just as they block the hostile clashings of their dream life.

The idea that the stars literally influence men (by a falling fluid, an influenza) is plainly untenable. But that the movements of the constellations are a clock by which earthly changes can be measured is less easy to dismiss.

The Bible has come under fire for making woman the fall guy in man's cosmic drama. But in casting a male conspirator, the serpent, as God's enemy, Genesis hedges and does not take its misogyny far enough. The Bible defensively swerves from God's true opponent, chthonian nature. The serpent is not outside Eve but in her. She is the garden and the serpent.

The mummified remains of Queen Nefertiti suggest that she most likely had diabetes. The legendary queen was not the only one with problems related to her grain-heavy diet. In fact, oatmeal has been associated with dental problems even in modern times.

Her hair was hidden under a white headdress, like some kind of wimple; she wore a long white tunic and trousers, and her skin had the pale golden hue associated in our world with Orientals. The lines of her cheekbone and jaw reminded him of pictures he had seen of the head of Nefertiti, thought her neck was longer, slightly too long for an ordinary human, and as she turned toward him he realized the planes of her face were subtly different, though it would have been hard to explain in what way. A fraction of an inch here, a fraction of an inch there, and the whole visage was somehow distorted, though its beauty remained undiminished.

My mother will emerge with a towel on her head, Nefertiti fashion, and a good terry-cloth robe, and make herself a tall gin-and-tonic and look like a movie star for an hour. Being around her is like being on safari; there is an elusive something we are after, in difficult conditions, and we will look good in the getting there.

She didn't have butterflies in her stomach; she had unicorns. They ran in circles and charged her insides with their horns, gouging her as they rampaged.

Los necios sólo aprecian el oro, pero el sabio sabe que no hay nada más valioso que el tiempo».

el corazón de los hombres alberga miserias capaces de torcer los propósitos más nobles.

The book didn't want to be copied? I should introduce it to the house that doesn't want any occupants.

Crowbars are great for working out parental issues.

In order to become the mother I wanted to be, I had to develop true compassion for the parents I’d had.

I heard Nakhtmin’s voice in my mind, that to be forgotten was the greatest gift that history could give.

I hate you, wardrobe. But here is what's going to happen. I will close the doors, say a magic word, open the doors, and you will present me with a suitable evening gown. Work, dammit.

The formidable combined forces of Judeo-Christianity and modern science have never succeeded in wiping out pagan astrology, nor will they ever. Astrology supplies what is missing in the west's official moral and intellectual codes. Astrology is the oldest organised art form of sexual personae. Waging war on astrology, the medieval and Renaissance Church promulgated the distortion that astrology is fatalism, a flouting of God's Providence and the necessity for moral struggle. But the predictive part of astrology is less important than its psychology, which three thousand years of continuous practise have given a phenomenal subtlety. Astrology does insist on self-discipline and self-transformation. Judging astrology by those vague sun-sign columns in the daily paper is like judging Christianity by a smudged shop window of black-velvet day-glo paintings of the Good Shepherd.

Tub full, she stood back to regard the mound of ice. Already the heat of her home fought to melt it. A rap came again at the entrance, more like an impatient pounding, and she cursed. The clock showed her only a few minutes away from her torture. I need whoever it is to go away. She ran to the door and slid open the peek-a-boo slot. Familiar turquoise eyes peered back. “Little witch, little witch, let me come in,” he chanted in a gruff voice. A smile curled her lips. “Not by the wart on my chinny chin chin,” she replied. “And before you try huffing and puffing, Nefertiti herself spelled this door. So forget blowing it down.” “So open it then. I’ve got a lead I think on escapee number three.” A glance at the clock showed one minute left. “Um, I’m kind of in the middle of something. Can you come back in like half an hour?” “Why not just let me in and I’ll wait while you do your thing? I promise not to watch, unless you like an audience.” “I can’t. Please. Just go away. I promise I’ll let you in when you come back.” His eyes narrowed. “Open this door, Ysabel.” “No. Now go away. I’ll talk to you in half an hour.” She slammed the slot shut and only allowed herself a moment to lean against the door which shuddered as he hit it with a fist. She didn’t have time to deal with his frustration. The tickle in her toes started and she ran to the bathroom, dropping her robe as she moved. The fire erupted, and standing on the lava tile in her bathroom, she concentrated on breathing against the spiraling pain and flames. I mustn’t scream. Remy might still be there, listening. Why that mattered, she couldn’t have said, but it did help her focus for a short moment. But the punishment would not allow her respite. Flames licked up her frame, demolishing her thin underpants and she couldn’t help but scream as the agony tore through her body. Make it stop. Make it stop. Wishing, praying, pleading didn’t stop the torture. As the inferno consumed her, her ears roared with the snap of the fire and a glance in her mirror horrified her, for there she stood – a living pyre of fire. She closed her eyes against the brilliant heat, but that just seemed to amplify the pain. Her knees buckled, but she didn’t fall. Something clasped her and she moaned as she sensed more than saw Remy’s arms wrap around her waist. It had to be him. Who else was crazy enough to break down her door and interrupt? Forcing open her eyes, eyes that wanted to water but couldn’t as the heat dried up all moisture, she saw the flames, not picky about their choice her own nightmare, she knew enough to try and push him away with hands that glowed inferno bright. He wouldn’t budge, and he didn’t scream – just held her as the curse ran its course. Without being told, once the flames disappeared, he placed her in the ice bath, the shocking cold a welcome relief. Gasping from the pain, she couldn’t speak but remained aware of how he stroked her hair back from her face and how his arm rested around her shoulders, cradling her. “Oh, my poor little witch,” he murmured. “No wonder you’ve been hiding.” Teeth chattering as the cold penetrated her feverish limbs, she tried to reply. “Wh-what c-c-can I say? I’m h-h-hot.” -Remy & Ysabel

All people are made from the wild Red Lands and the quiet Black Lands. It is the embrace of both that sets your heart free." - Nefertiti

Akhenaten and his wife Nefertiti turned their backs on the old religion and introduced the worship of Aten. Historians believe that it was they who introduced the world’s first monotheistic religion.

aprendido, el corazón de los hombres alberga miserias capaces de torcer los propósitos más nobles.

sabiduría y el valor. También ha sido utilizado como símbolo de la Santísima Trinidad”.

everyone alive on the planet today is related both to Confucius (551–479 BC) and to Nefertiti (1370–1330 BC). So

I maimed you when I was only a child. Touch me now, and I'll kill you." She turned her back to him, and holding her head high, she strode out to the balcony. Conversation rose behind her. The

Je... je bent een meisje!' ... 'Ik ben niet zomaar een meisje,' zei ze. 'Ik ben de dochter van de Glorie van Ra, hij die als een reus over de wereld loopt: de farao Neferhotep, de glorieuze heerser van heel Deshret... Je zou trots moeten zijn,' zei ze, terwijl ze zich met een zwaai van haar gescheurde mantel omdraaide. 'Je bent nu de slaaf van prinses Nefertiti.

Het kwaad heeft niet meer nodig dan goede mensen die niets doen.' 'Inderdaad, goed gezegd.' Politor knikte naar Jake en richtte zijn blauwe ogen toen op Nefertiti. 'De mensen van Ka-Tor, wij allemaal, hebben net zo diep geslapen als uw vader.' Nefertiti stond op, haar stem vol vuur. 'Dan is het tijd dat we allemaal wakker worden.

Goed dat er nog íémand is die weet hoe hij een koninklijk bevel moet opvolgen! - Nefertiti

To speak the name of the dead is to make them live again. —EGYPTIAN PROVERB

Because he is weak and shallow, and you should learn to recognize men who are afraid of others with power, Mutnodjmet

Buste van Nefertiti koopt de tuinslang van Car Wash.

Amarna was a city that was purposefully built for its ruler to focus attention on the worship of the god Aten, so it was not a city that grew and developed over time, but it must have been nothing short of remarkable.

What you will do,” she said, serious and commanding, “is scout the right location and build for me the greatest house of eternity, one that shall not be found by the likes of you, nor defiled.

Mireu aquest bell rostre de Nefertiti, o el David de Miquel Àngel, o el cos improcedent de donya Caietana. ¿On és, oh mort, la teva victòria?

She extracted a card from amongst her ample decollete and held it out toward Cara. This is starting to feel like a bizarre treasure hunt, following clues written on little cards." [Cara thought]

If you can make a mechanical horse, why wouldn't you make it a unicorn?

The truth is though, that Nefertiti stole his light the moment she left him holding her lifeless body on that bed, she stole his sun and his moon with her last breath, and he would never see sunlight or the sparkling stars again. They went with her. She was his sun, and his moon, and his whole world. From that night onwards, Akhenaten went completely, irrevocably blind, and his sight was extinguished into a world of never ending night.

you is akin to playing Russian roulette: both hobbies have a high chance of ending in a fatality.” She

She forgot the small detail of the business she wanted to engage him on. She enjoyed saying no to him, repeatedly. Refusal was probably a new experience for him, too, but it was hard to tell.

Nefertiti vouwde haar kap terug. Jake verwachtte dat ze rood zou zien van kwaadheid, maar ze was verdrietig, haar ogen vochtig van de ingehouden tranen. 'Denken jullie allemaal zo slecht over mij?' ... Jake voelde een steek van medelijden voor Nefertiti. Ze was trots en eigenzinnig, maar in hoeverre was haar karakter aangetast door Kree? Hij herinnerde zich hoe ze in de woestijn was geweest: wild en vrij, bevrijd uit de schaduw van dat monster.

The discovery of the royal name, Nefertiti, inscribed on a golden scarab could probably support my assertion that Akhenaten broken the link with the upper heavens for that a golden scarab symbolizes the change that Nefertiti's husband had undertaken towards the parallel rather than the perpendicular authority.

Gnarly,

Breve anteprima del romanzo - ... . Attorno a Parigi c’era una grande foresta, ma quella è una storia proprio precedente a questa, anche se ha uno sfondo comune. I re di Francia venivano unti con un unguento speciale che era conservato nella cattedrale di Reims, e che nessuno sapeva di cosa fosse fatto ed era lo stesso con cui era stato unto Gesù; era un segreto. Sembrano cose molto lontane da quello che è lo spirito cristiano, in realtà ci sono due Chiese; ce n'è una oscura ed una ufficiale con due messaggi differenti ma che sono complementari - *** - ...Gli Egizi erano grandi manipolatori di quel marchingegno che stritola tutti e tutto. La Massoneria proviene dall'Egitto, è nata là. E’ tutta di provenienza egizia; loro avevano un'azione su quel marchingegno che fa accadere le cose - *** - Virginia era proprio ai vertici della Carboneria al tempo del Risorgimento - ripeté - perché qui c’è l’elenco dei nomi di quelli che avevano le fila di questo complotto, lei era a capo della Massoneria femminile, il suo grado era quello più alto, era chiamata Regina del Grande Firmamento - *** Fa parte dello stesso filone di quello dei Templari, quello su Nefertiti. La maggior parte degli archeologi non sa queste cose; che c’è un mistero lì. *** ... . E il concetto di Dio per esempio è l'archetipo del Sé proiettato nel collettivo, cioè è l'Io: l'archetipo dell'Io che si proietta nel collettivo e allora viene fuori il concetto di Dio. *** E la magia consiste nel manipolare questi archetipi in modo sapiente e costruire qualcosa e non lasciarlo al libero gioco delle emozioni perché sono le emozioni che influiscono sul Destino. *** - Perché venivano unti i re di Francia?- - Certo che quelle Chiese finiranno! Finirà tutto con il ritorno del nuovo Re. - Perché in un certo senso una parte passava attraverso di loro. La rivoluzione non è avvenuta così per caso, c'è stato un potere che ha affermato questo, sai? Le due cose dovevano concorrere; sai che alla fine c'è l'Apocalisse, con un messaggio, sempre di Giovanni. E non è una cosa solo così, allegorica, c'è sempre un fatto storico ed uno mitico insieme, vanno lette insieme le cose. Anche lì ci sta un evento, che accadrà - - La Chiesa finirà di esistere?- - Certo che quelle Chiese finiranno! Finirà tutto con il ritorno del nuovo Re. *** - Quanti li vedono così i Misteri? - Rifletté Sveva. - Recitano i Misteri come una litania. La maggior parte li vede e recita così; son tutte donnette che non sanno un tubo di niente. E’ vero? - ***

Do you think it will come back to bite me?” Harwa

Froehlich’s syndrome,

When life gives you lemons, find a friend whose life has given them tequila and have a party.

it, I’m growing on you, aren’t I?” she asked, a smile on her face as she placed a foot on the bottom step to the empty carriage. “Like a wart, darling,” he replied with his accustomed grin, before shutting the carriage door after her.

And he who owns the water, owns the city - indeed owns life itself. But no-one in truth owns the river. It is greater, more enduring and more powerful than any of us, almost more than any god. It can tear us apart with its force or starve us by withholding its yearly inundation. It is full of death. It carries corpses of beast and men and children whose dwelling time in its depths has shocked them green. …And yet it sustains our rich black earth from which spring our green crops, our barley and wheat.

I arrive at the wooden door. I offer a prayer to the little god in his niche who knows I don’t believe in him, then push the door open.The courtyard is swept and tidy, the olive tree stands silver and green. I listen to the silence.

I am wary of the words ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. We use them far too easily to judge things which we have no competence to judge. And I could not say that the things I have seen here in Akhetaten are right. People are people: avaricious, ambitious, strutting, careless. That doesn’t change.

heads held up above the waterline. He left me on the far side. Suddenly the simple quietness of the world returned to me: a few birds, some children playing at the water’s edge, the occasional calls of women working in the fields. No other boats were approaching or landing here. The sun, slowly descending towards the western cliffs, guided me towards the general area where the fort lay. I set off between the fields of emmer and barley. How immaculate they were, tended to perfection over all time as if the fields themselves were worshipped gods. At one point a group of men riding donkeys appeared ahead of me, but we nodded and continued without attending much to one another. The track between the fields

Be careful here, my lady. Let history forget your name. For if your deeds are to live in eternity, you will have to become exactly what your family wants you to be.” “And what is that?” I demanded. “A slave to the throne.

The cat's sophisticated personae are masks of an advanced theatricality. Priests and god its own cult, the cat follows a code of ritual purity, cleaning itself religiously. Priest and god of its own cult, the car sacrifices to itself and may share its ceremonies with the elect. [...] The cat is the least Christian inhabitant of the entire home.

The first stop in the oft-repeated looking up of a word is the massive Egyptian-German dictionary, Wörterbuch der ägyptischen Sprache, a project begun in 1897, its five volumes of entries eventually published between 1926 and 1931. The archive of note slips that were used to compile this dictionary—still a standard reference for hieroglyphic texts—has now been digitized. By inputting the page number and word entry from the published Wörterbuch, we can scroll through scans of paper slips containing handwritten copies of snippets of ancient Egyptian texts containing a particular word.

We take down the first volume of the Wörterbuch der ägyptischen Sprache. On pages 6–7 we indeed see several words with the basic spelling of ab (listed in the dictionary under the transliteration 3b). We note that abeb might well be a writing of the word “abey” (transliteration 3bi), “to desire, to wish.

To speak the name of the dead is to make them live again- Egyptian Proverb

You can't change the desert. You can only take the fastest course through it. Wishing it's an oasis won't make it so...