Norse Wisdom Quotes

Moderately wise each one should be, Not overwise, for a wise man's heart Is seldom glad (Norse Wisdom)

Be your friend’s true friend. Return gift for gift. Repay laughter with laughter again but betrayal with treachery.

Does Yggdrasil drink from it because it is the Well of Wisdom, or is it the Well of Wisdom because Yggdrasil drinks from it?

Odin knows many secrets. He gave an eye for wisdom. More than that, for knowledge of runes, and for power, he sacrificed himself to himself. He hung from the world-tree, Yggdrasil, hung there for nine nights. His side was pierced by the point of a spear, which wounded him gravely.

Is it the Well of Wisdom because Yggdrasil drinks from it, or does Yggdrasil drink from it because it is the Well of Wisdom?

In Jotunheim, the home of the giants, is Mimir’s well. It bubbles up from deep in the ground, and it feeds Yggdrasil, the world-tree. Mimir, the wise one, the guardian of memory, knows many things. His well is wisdom, and when the world was young he would drink every morning from the well, by dipping the horn known as the Gjallerhorn into the water and draining it.

An ash I know, Yggdrasil its name, With water white is the great tree wet; Thence come the dews that fall in the dales, Green by Urth's well does it ever grow. Thence come the maidens mighty in wisdom, Three from the dwelling down 'neath the tree; Urth is one named, Verthandi the next,-- On the wood they scored,-- and Skuld the third. Laws they made there, and life allotted To the sons of men, and set their fates.

Under the root *( of the Ash Yggdrasil ) that goes to the frost giants is the Well of Mimir. Wisdom and Intelligence are hidden there, and Mimir is the name of the well's owner. He is full of wisdom because he drinks of the well from the Gjallarhorn. All-father went there and asked for one drink from the well, but he did not get this until he gave one of his eyes as a pledge. As it says in The Sibyl's Prophesy : Odin, I know all, where you hid the eye in that famous Well of Mimir. Each morning Mimir drinks mead from Val-Father's pledge. Do you know now or what ? ( The Sibyl's Prophesy. 28 )

O: Sure. [Scratches his beard thoughtfully.] Makes you wonder, though, doesn’t it? SS [leaning forward]: Wonder what, Lord Odin? O: What Mimir did with my eye. [Shrugs.] SS: A mystery that may never be solved. Speaking of mysteries, you once hanged yourself to gain wisdom. We’re all dying to know— O: “Dying to know”! Good one, Snorri! SS: What? Oh. Yes, I see. So, can you tell us the story behind your hanging yourself for nine days to unlock the secret of runes? O: Of course. [Pause.] I hanged myself for nine days to unlock the secret of runes. SS: Yes, but why did you hang yourself? O: To unlock the secret of runes. SS: Er, yes. Fascinating.

But Odin had a trick up his sleeve. For his final question to Vafthrudnir, he asked, "And what, wise giant, did Odin whisper in the ear of Balder, before that great son of his was burned on the funeral pyre?" Vafthrudnir became livid with rage. "Now I see who you really he said grimly, "for only Odin himself could know the answer that question." He clenched his teeth and his fists, and closed his eyes. When he opened them, however, his face had an expression of melancholy acceptance, and he said, "Now for the first time in my life I have lost a contest of lore. But my consolation will be that I lost it to Odin, the most knowledgeable being there is.

If answers are produced, where do they come from: Gods, spirits, those who have gone before, the seeker's subconscious? Rational- liberal anthropology, of course, says the latter. Jungian psychology would suggest a collective-unconscious origin. The answers do not always have meaning for the speaker, but they do seem to for the questioner. Practitioners have their own answers. 'It's not archetypes and the collective unconscious, or at least it's more than that as well,' says Jordsvin. 'I expect most of this is coming from the dead people, because that's where I go.' He journeys within Hel's realm: in Norse tradition, wisdom comes from the dead, from the mound. Others may focus on deities as the source of the answers, depending on what is asked: rituals may involve deity-possession (described by Wallis 1999b: chapter 2).

There's something weird about Wednesday. Wednesday's child is full of woe. Wednesday is sad and anxious about who he is, where he stands in the week. The word is weird. It should be Weirdsdsay. Wednesday would like to be Latin but took his name from Woden, the Norse God. The Old English had to say Wednesdaeg, which is a bit of a mouthful. Funny things happen on Wednesday.

and positive associations are also provided by the etymology of words like “frugality” and “thrift.” “Thrift” has a common root with “thrive”; both derive from the Old Norse thrifa, meaning to grasp or get hold of. In Chaucer’s Middle English of the late fourteenth century, “thrifti” meant thriving, prosperous, fortunate, respectable. And in his eighteenth-century dictionary, Samuel Johnson defines “thrift” as “profit; gain; riches gotten; state of prospering.” “Frugal” comes from the Latin term frugalis, meaning economical or useful, which is itself derived from frux, meaning fruit, profit, or value.

It wasn’t dignified in the least, the way the grown man crouching on the floor played with the child—made a fool of himself to entertain a stranger’s abandoned baby. Not dignified, but it was… oddly endearing. Sophie felt an urge to get up and put some distance between herself and this tomfoolery on the floor, and yet she had to wonder too: if she brushed a lock of her hair over the child’s nose, would the baby take as much delight in it? She sat back. “How is it you know so much about babies?” “My half sisters are a great deal younger than my brother and I. We more or less raised them, and this is part of the drill. He’ll likely nap next, as outings tend to tire them when they’re this young.” He crouched low over the child and used his mouth to make a rude noise on the baby’s belly. The child exploded with glee, grabbing wildly for Mr. Charpentier’s hair and managing to catch his nose. It was quite a handsome nose in the middle of quite a handsome face. She’d noticed this at the coaching inn, in that first instant when he’d offered to help. She’d turned to find the source of the lovely, calm voice and found herself looking up into a face that put elegant masculine bones to the best possible use. His eyes were just the start of it—a true pale blue that suggested Norse ancestry, set under arching blond brows. It was a lean face, with a strong jaw and well-defined chin—Sophie could not abide a weak chin nor the artifices of facial hair men sported to cover one up. But none of that, not even the nose and chin and eyes combined, prepared Sophie for the visceral impact of more than six feet of Wilhelm Charpentier crouched on the floor, entertaining a baby. He smiled at the child as if one small package of humanity merited all the grace and benevolence a human heart could express. He beamed at the child, looked straight into the baby’s eyes, and communicated bottomless approval and affection without saying a word. It was… daunting. It was undignified, and yet Sophie sensed there was a kind of wisdom in the man’s handling of the baby she herself would lack. “He’ll

With a good woman, if you wish to enjoy her words and her good will, pledge her fairly and be faithful to it: Enjoy the good you are given.

Thor spake: "In a single breast I never have seen More wealth of wisdom old; But with treacherous wiles must I now betray thee: The day has cought thee dwarf! (Now the sun shines here in the hall.)

Odin, also called Woden or Wotan, was the god of inspiration and the giver of poetry, wisdom and battle-rage.  Most of the myths describe him as the firstborn and father of the gods, although some older stories give that role to Tyr.

Hail Eochaid Ollathair, Father of All! Hail Ruad Ro-fhessa, Lord of Perfect Knowledge! Lord of the Oak Tree, Phallus of the summer saplings, Rough as tree bark is your wisdom, Yet deep as sunken roots. You who can call the seasons with your harp, You are called upon by the common people For your gift of fair weather. You whose club is so great That nine men are required to carry it And even then it plows a great ditch; Whose terrible end slays hundreds at a blow And whose other end can restore them to life; You stake your life on the fertility of the land That others may survive the cold winters. You who build great fortresses, You know what it is to be the sole protection Of those you love, and to go forth In battle to save their lives. —By Cianaodh Óg from Our Pantheon’s Way

There is an old wisdom that those who put themselves first shall become last. The subtext of this wisdom tells us that self-concern is the root of all evil. Self-concern is behind the love of money and all the other deadly sins. Certainly, Cronus’s lust for power drove him to murder his own children, even worse than what his father, Uranus had done.

Then spoke Gangleri: 'Where is the chief centre or holy place of the gods?' High replied: 'It is at the ash Yggdrasil. There the gods must hold their courts each day.' Then spoke Gangleri: 'What is there to tell about that place?' Then said Just-as-high: 'The ash is of all trees the biggest and best. Its branches spread out over all the world and extend across the sky. Three of the tree's roots support it and extend very, very far. One is among the Æsir, the second among the frost-giants, where Ginnungagap once was. The third extends over Niflheim, and under that root is Hvergelmir, and Nidhogg gnaws the bottom of the root. But under the root that reaches towards the frost-giants, there is where Mimir's well is, which has wisdom and intelligence contained in it, and the master of the well is called Mimir. He is full of learning because he drinks of the well from the horn Giallarhorn. All-father went there and asked for a single drink from the well, but he did not get one until he placed his eye as a pledge. Thus it says in Voluspa: I know it all, Odin, where you deposited your eye, in that renowned well of Mimir. Mimir drinks mead every morning from Val-father's pledge. Know you yet, or what?

With those teachings, though, von List blended popular notions about the superiority of the white race and of Germanic peoples in particular. From his work sprang a movement that called itself Ariosophy- "the wisdom of the Aryans"-that borrowed heavily from Theosophy but reworked it to support an agenda of pan-German racism. In the years before his death in 1919, von List proclaimed that a mighty leader, "the Strong One from Above," would soon arise and unite the Germanic peoples. He was, of course, quite correct; the year he died, an Austrian veteran named Adolf Hitler, who was strongly influenced by Ariosophy, began his political career.

Perhaps you’d like to tell us about your latest quests for wisdom and knowledge instead? O: I’d like to tell you many things, Snorri. But to answer your question: I’ve started a spoken-word poetry group with some of my einherjar. Performances every Thor’s Day night in the Feast Hall of the Slain, with light Saehrimnir refreshments to follow. The Norns are scheduled to make a guest appearance soon, which should prove interesting. Also, I’m taking Zumba classes to understand why in My Name they’re so popular. Finally, I’m researching the magical symbol known in Midgard as [taps first two fingers of right hand against the first two fingers of left hand] hashtag. From what I’ve gleaned, when combined with other words, hashtag has the power to distract the mind from more important matters. If I’m right, I’ll make hashtag the subject of my next book. The working title is…wait for it…Hashtag. SS: An inspired choice, Lord Odin. O: Yes, I know. Sadly, our interview came to an abrupt conclusion at this point.

I suppose he never gets blisters, then,” Scot murmured, then looked up and said, “And in truth, one of the reasons that I’d rather retain my code and my religion is that my gods are flawed and hypocritical. They get blisters—metaphorically. Thor wrangles with rage and Loki with jealousy. The only perfect god, Baldr, was killed for his perfection, which of course proves that pure perfection is an imperfection, or . . .” Scot hesitated, “something like that.” Even he felt that he could have summed that up better. “There’s pagan wisdom for you,” Gawain scoffed in derision. “Perfection is imperfect and imperfection is preferable. It’s circular logic.” Scot rolled his eyes, rubbing his ankle. “Paganism (as you condescendingly call my faith) is circular. Your Christianity tries to make everything into a straight line… in order for your world to make sense, everything must have a start and an end. In any case, your king is cut from the same cloth as your Christ—both are like Baldr, too good to last for long—either you are blind or he is a liar. Real people and gods struggle to be their best and fail.

According to an idea that was wide-spread among the Germans and Celts, all wisdom dwelled in the lower world, which is often cited as the source of knowledge and art. This notion goes hand in hand with another idea that maintains that death precedes life. Because death is identical to night and life is identical to day, these peoples counted time in nights rather than days. We can compare this to Scandinavian cosmology: The giant Ymir is the originator of creation. In Nordic mythology, the giants are the keepers of the science of runes, and one of them, Sutting, is the keeper of poetic knowledge. As the world's first inhabitants, they [the giants] knew all its secrets. They thus maintained many close ties with death and the otherworld with, for instance, dwarves and elves.