Ramses Quotes

when we are weary, we speak lovingly of dreams as if they embodied our true deisres-What we WOULD have when that which we DO have so sorely disappoints us

the one for whom the sun shines.. -Ramses II

Now, Mama, Papa, and sir," said Ramses, "please withdraw to the farthest corner and crouch down with your backs turned. It is as I feared; we will never break through by this method. The walls are eight feet thick. Fortunately I brought along a little nitroglycerin--" "Oh, good Gad," shrieked Inspector Cuff.

I picture heaven as a vast library, with unlimited volumes to read. And paintings and statues to examine galore. I picture it as a great doorway to learning...rather than one great dull answer to all our questions

His lips parted, but long years of experience with Ramses, and to some extent, Emerson, had taught me how to turn a conversation into a monologue.

...Nefret said with a gusty sigh, 'Well, that's done it. We may as well join in, Ramses, family arguments are the favorite form of amusement here and this looks like being a loud one.

Ramses had always been fond of Helen, in his peculiar fashion, but if he had looked at me as he was looking at her, I would have sent for a constable.

Sekhmet crawled onto Ramses's lap and began to purr. 'The creature oozes like a furry slug,' said Ramses, eyeing it without favor.

What a nice neat deep trench,' I said. 'Er - should Nefret be down in it?' 'She thought she saw a skull,' Ramses said. 'You know how she is about bones.

I knew the answer, and--of course--so did Ramses. He has superb breath control and always gets in ahead of me.

As the Egyptians say, Ramses can hear a whisper across the Nile.

Emerson bent a tender look upon his son and heir. ‘Very well, Ramses; Papa will find you all the dead bodies you want.

It's not unsporting to thrash a cowardly cad,' said Simmons. 'Everyone knows you don't fight like a gentleman.' 'That might be called an oxymoron,' Ramses said. 'Oh--sorry. Bad form to use long words. Look it up when you get home.' The poor devil didn't know how to fight, like a gentleman or otherwise.

The Evasive Cartwheel ™ © etc., Bartimaeus of Uruk, circa. 2800 B.C.E. Often imitated, never surpassed. As famously memorialized in the New Kingdom tomb paintings of Ramses III— you can just see me in the background of The Dedication of the Royal Family before Ra, wheeling out of sight behind the pharaoh.

You certainly are a repository of useless information. How do you know all that?' David asked, with more amusement than admiration. 'I have a mind like a magpie's, easily distracted by interesting odds and ends,' Ramses admitted.

Unfortunately, identifying Ramses II as the pharaoh of the Exodus, which is the identification most frequently found in both scholarly and popular books, does not work if one also wishes to follow the chronology presented in the Bible.

You know how your eyes can deceive you at times--how a group of shapes and shadows can take on a certain form and then shift into another? It wasn't really like that; there was no physical change in him, he was exactly the same as he'd always been. I knew every line of his long body and every curl on his disheveled black head. I'd just never seen him before. you know what I'm trying to say, don't you? The change is in the heart.

As Ramses did the same for his mother, he saw that her eyes were fixed on him. She had been unusually silent. She had not needed his father's tactless comment to understand the full implications of Farouk's death. As he met her unblinking gaze he was reminded of one of Nefret's more vivid descriptions. 'When she's angry, her eyes look like polished steel balls.' That's done it, he thought. She's made up her mind to get David and me out of this if she has to take on every German and Turkish agent in the Middle East.

We are fascinated by Ramses as Renaissance Christians were by the American Indians, those (human?) beings who had never known the word of Christ.

Still,” said Ramse. “You’re not much. You’re what you are and we love you for it, but you’re not much.

As I left I heard Ramses say, ‘May I remark, Papa, dat alt’ough your consideration for my sensitivities was quite unnecessary, I am not without a proper appreciation of de sentiment dat prompted it.

Sing, fight, cry, pray, laugh, work and admire.

The horror was, Cleopatra meant something to these modern people of the twentieth century which was altogether wrong. She had become a symbol of licentiousness, when in fact she had possessed a multitude of amazing talents. They had punished her for her one flaw by forgetting everything else…Remembered, but not for what she was. A painted whore lying on a silken couch. - Ramses

On the subject of Egypt, Ellen Cherry was so vague she thought Ramses II was a jazz piano player. From that, we might conclude that she was equally dumb about jazz.

I would be the first to admit that my maternal instincts are not well developed--though in defense I must add that the raising of Ramses would have discouraged any woman.

Eavesdropping, Mother?' Ramses inquired. 'It is a shameful habit, but cursed useful,' I said, quoting something he had once said, and was rewarded by one of his rare and rather engaging smiles.

Have you caught cold?' 'It would appear so.' 'You could give it to Margaret,' Ramses suggested. His uncle turned the tinted spectacles toward him and then, unexpectedly, bust into laughter. 'What a charming idea. Will you aid and abet me when I catch her in a close embrace and breathe heavily on her?

And off he marched, his shoulders squared and his eyes lifted to the horizon. He looked so splendid I didn’t have the heart to point out the disadvantages of this posture; when one is striding bravely into the future one cannot watch one’s footing. Sure enough, he stumbled into Ramses’ pile of potsherds and went sprawling.

So here we are, in the family planning aisle with a cart full of sports drinks and our hands full of . . . “Trojans, Ramses, Magnum . . . Jeez, these are worse than names for muscle cars,” Jase observes, sliding his finger along the display. “They do sound sorta, well, forceful.” I flip over the box I’m holding to read the instructions. Jase glances up to smile at me. “Don’t worry, Sam. It’s just us.” “I don’t get what half these descriptions mean . . . What’s a vibrating ring?” “Sounds like the part that breaks on the washing machine. What’s extra-sensitive? That sounds like how we describe George.” I’m giggling. “Okay, would that be better or worse than ‘ultimate feeling’—and look—there’s ‘shared pleasure’ condoms and ‘her pleasure’ condoms. But there’s no ‘his pleasure.’” “I’m pretty sure that comes with the territory,” Jase says dryly. “Put down those Technicolor ones. No freaking way.” “But blue’s my favorite color,” I say, batting my eyelashes at him. “Put them down. The glow-in-the-dark ones too. Jesus. Why do they even make those?” “For the visually impaired?” I ask, reshelving the boxes. We move to the checkout line. “Enjoy the rest of your evening,” the clerk calls as we leave. “Do you think he knew?” I ask. “You’re blushing again,” Jase mutters absently. “Did who know what?” “The sales guy. Why we were buying these?” A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Of course not. I’m sure it never occurred to him that we were actually buying birth control for ourselves. I bet he thought it was a . . . a . . . housewarming gift.” Okay, I’m ridiculous. “Or party favors,” I laugh. “Or”—he scrutinized the receipt—“supplies for a really expensive water balloon fight.” “Visual aids for health class?” I slip my hand into the back pocket of Jase’s jeans. “Or little raincoats for . . .” He pauses, stumped. “Barbie dolls,” I suggest. “G.I. Joes,” he corrects, and slips his free hand into the back pocket of my jeans, bumping his hip against mine as we head back to the car.

The Romans can not be condemned for the conquest of Egypt; we were conquered by time itself in the end. And all the wonders of this brave new century should draw me from my grief and yet I can not heal my heart; and so the mind suffers; the mind closes as if it were a flower without sun

Be Warned: I sleep as the earth sleeps beneath the night sky or the winter’s snow; and once awakened, I am servant to no man.

Grief, she thought. It’s a strange and a misunderstood emotion.

You haven’t found all the answers yet. Electricity, telephones, these are lovely magic. But the poor go unfed. Men kill for what they cannot gain by their own labour. How to share the magic, the riches, the secrets, that is still the problem.

No one knows for sure what the Mayan pyramids are for-navigation and chronography, some say, like Stonehenge-but we know damn well what the Egyptian pyramids were and are . . . great monuments to death, the world's biggest gravestones. Here Lies Ramses II, He Was Obedient . . .

You will learn as you get older, my dear girl, that not everyone reads as you do. Not everyone has the same encounter with language. There is a heightened sensitivity in you, to be sure, but you can embrace it. It’s far more than just a nervous condition, these tears you shed when you read of Cleopatra and Marc Antony’s fall. You are a rare and beautiful thing, Sibyl. For most people, words are just symbols for sounds, made on paper. For you, they can create all new worlds in your mind.

Papa, I would like to attend de funeral.’ ‘Why on earth would you want to do that?’ Emerson asked. ‘Dere is a variety of folktale dat claims dat de murderer is drawn to de funeral services of his victim. I suspect dat is pure legend, but a truly scientific mind does not dismiss a t’eory simply because it – ’ ‘Ramses, I am surprised

Either the War Office had recruited Ramses - in which case I would have General Spencer's head on a platter - or Ramses had come across something that, in his opinion, merited investigation.... I am never guilty of idle speculation, so I kept an open mind on that. Except that once I caught up with him, I would have Ramses' head on another platter.

You will learn as you get older, my dear girl, that not everyone reads as you do. Not everyone has the same encounter with language.

I picture heaven as a vast library, with unlimited volumes to read. And paintings and statues to examine

We are all born without our consent. Should it really be so thoroughly shattering to be reborn the same way.

For most people, words are just symbols for sounds, made on paper. For you, they can create all new worlds in your mind.

For some reason his parents had a low opinion of his common sense.

Among other emotions – I confess it without shame – was maternal pride. Ramses had displayed the qualities I might have expected from a descendant of the Emersons and the Peabodys. I

This was that lucid and dangerous state with drinking, when everything began to shimmer; when there was meaning in the grain of the marble; when one could make the most offensive speeches.

Call me Ramses the Damned. For that is the name I have given myself. But I was once Ramses the Great of Upper and Lower Egypt, slayer of the Hittites, father of many sons and daughters, who ruled Egypt for sixty-four years.

According to Ramses’s inscriptions, no country was able to oppose this invading mass of humanity. Resistance was futile. The great powers of the day—the Hittites, the Mycenaeans, the Canaanites, the Cypriots, and others—fell one by one. Some

This is what love is, isn’t it? It’s not a thing for which you clear a certain space in your life. It takes over your life, and all else must be made to fit to it, or the result is endless grief or a willful numbness that results in the death of your spirit before your body.

I used to wonder: Do only ignorant laypeople gaze on the colossal bust of Ramses II at the British Museum and ask themselves how it ended up there? Is it only the unschooled visitor who looks at the soaring column from the Temple of Artemis at the Met and questions why it exists in this place?

So maybe Third World discontent is fomented not merely by poverty, disease, corruption and political oppression but also by mere exposure to First World standards. The average Egyptian was far less likely to die from starvation, plague or violence under Hosni Mubarak than under Ramses II or Cleopatra. Never had the material condition of most Egyptians been so good. You’d think they would have been dancing in the streets in 2011, thanking Allah for their good fortune. Instead they rose up furiously to overthrow Mubarak. They weren’t comparing themselves to their ancestors under the pharaohs, but rather to their contemporaries in the affluent West.

Don’t be so certain of anything. There are many experiences within the Shaktanis that I wish to share with you. You may read and absorb them at your leisure. But do absorb them, Ramses. Don’t leap to rash conclusions. Don’t diminish them into a hasty code of morals and laws for beings such as us. Let them embrace you so they may guide you.

Ozymandias” Mısır’da Luxor yakınlarındaki II. Ramses’in cenaze tapınağında yıkılmış bir heykelden esinlenilmiştir. Antik çağ tarihçisi Diodorus’a göre heykelde bir zamanlar şu sözler yazılıydı: “Kralların Kralıyım, Ben Ozymandias. Her kim benim ne kadar haşmetli olduğumu ve nerede yattığımı bilirse, eserlerimden birini geçmesine izin verin.

When the valley surrounding St. Cloud's was cleared and the second growth (scrub pine and random, unmanaged softwoods) sprang up everywhere, like swamp weed, and when there were no more logs to send downriver, from Three Mile Falls to St. Cloud's--because there were no more trees--that was when the Ramses Paper Company introduced Maine to the twentieth century by closing down the saw mill and the lumberyard along the river at St. Cloud's and moving camp downstream. . .There were no Ramses Paper Company people left behind, but there were people. . . Not one of the neglected officers of the Catholic Church of St. Cloud's stayed; there were more souls to save by following the Ramses Paper Company downstream.

Solid objects will not keep anyone safe in this conflict.

The painted picture was a bit rough, which was probably done on purpose, yet seemed eerily real as if there actually was a way to step through it into the wild jungle

Well, you know it’s my magic essence. -Mark Khiop

If you don't believe in hyperspace you become more and more false and irrelevant every day.

I have named them the hounds of Sisyphus.

our soul, once set free, seeks only to return.

You have balanced power with wisdom, despite your rash acts.

Dishonorable people do not honor their arrangements. A bill of sale only requires payment, a contract only requires completion, and/or a debt merely requires a payment.

Se sei un uomo di qualità, fonda la tua dimora, ama la tua sposa con passione, rendila felice per tutta la vita. Una donna dal cuore felice controlla l'energia vitale

Ah, so much to ponder. But not now. Now was the time for the conjugal blessing of this new abode.

And we are this, this only, this ecstasy that flesh can give to flesh.

All over the lawn, the immortals had begun to wither and decompose, creating little pockets of chaos among the guests.

I am your queen,” the woman answered.

Ah, yes, beautiful English bones.

All life seeks rebirth when removed from the mortal realm. All life, through its very nature, returns.

Life is too strong to be contained. It is never destroyed. Divorced from the flesh, it moves through all matter and form to find flesh again.

When we are weary, we speak lovingly of dreams as if they embodied our true desires—what we would have when that which we do have so sorely disappoints us

She felt herself turning inward, away from all of it, back into the darkness, into the dark water whence she’d come.

In a world with amazing amounts of statistics and demographics available, If you don't utilize foresight, statistics, demographics, projections and predictions the competition will.

This is what love is, isn’t it? It’s not a thing for which you clear a certain space in your life. It takes over your life, and all else must be made to fit to it, or the result is endless grief or a willful numbness that results in the death of your spirit before your body. I have seen this truth in the eyes of Julie and Ramsey. And I see it in your eyes when I look at

It would have been enough to exhume Ramses to ensure his extermination by museumification. Because mummies don’t’ rot from worms: they die from being transplanted from a slow order of the symbolic to an order of history, science and museums. Irreparable violence toward all secrets, the violence of a civilization without secrets, hatred of a whole civilization for its own foundation.

You see, sometimes, Alex, we have to lose things to learn compassion. And sometimes we are overcome by change that arrives with some measure of violence, but leaves us transformed for the better.

There is no heaven. There is no hell. There is no above or below. If there is a realm beyond this one, it is no more beautiful, no more significant, no more full of truth, than ours here on earth.

I picture heaven as a vast library, with unlimited volumes to read. And paintings and statues to examine galore. I picture it as a great doorway to learning. Do you think the hereafter could be like that?

except how much all of us give up in this life, sooner or later, because we can never have all that we want. You’ll find out soon enough. We’re blessed, my dear. Quite blessed, but no life is without sacrifices.

He discovered a cartouche from Abu Simbel in which he could identify the name of Ramses. Upon making this breakthrough, he rushed from his apartment, found his brother, cried, “Je tiens l’affaire!”—“I’ve got it!”—and dropped into a dead faint. In a letter dated September 27, 1822, Champollion wrote of his discovery to the Royal Academy of Inscriptions and Letters. And within two years he completed a Précis du Systeme Hieroglyphique, showing that the script was a mixture of ideographic and phonetic signs.

Ramses. I had long since resigned myself to the impossibility of teaching Emerson the proper subjects of conversation before the servants. Wilkins is not resigned; but there is nothing he can do about it. Not only does Emerson rant on and on about personal matters at the dinner table, but he often consults Wilkins and John. Wilkins has a single reply to all questions: “I really could not say, sir.” John, who had never been in service before he came to us, had adapted very comfortably to Emerson’s habits.

To see Ramses, at fourteen months, wrinkling his brows over a sentence like 'The theology of the Egyptians was a compound of fetishism, totem-ism and syncretism' was a sight as terrifying as it was comical. Even more terrifying was the occasional thoughtful nod the child would give. ...the room was dark except for one lamp, by whose light Emerson was reading. Ramses, in his crib, contemplated the ceiling with rapt attention. It made a pretty little family scene, until one heard what was being said. '...the anatomical details of the wounds, which included a large gash in the frontal bone, a broken malar bone and orbit, and a spear thrust which smashed off the mastoid process and struck the atlas vertebra, allow us to reconstruct the death scene of the king.' ... From the small figure in the cot came a reflective voice. 'It appeaws to me that he was muwduwed.'...' a domestic cwime.'...'One of the ladies of the hawem did it, I think.' I seized Emerson by the arm and pushed him toward the door, before he could pursue this interesting suggestion.

Zou je me vragen wat ik het beste lied uit de Lage Landen vind, dan zou ik niet twijfelen, dat was "Laat me, Vivre" van Ramses Shaffy en Liesbeth List, onmiddellijk gevolgd door Tim van Wim de Craene. En als ik Liesbeth zo bezig zie, in een opname bij Paul de Leeuw, dan kan het toch niet anders dat zij, ooit de vrouw van de schrijver Cees Nooteboom, Ramses heeft bemind in de meest onmogelijke van alle liefdes. Ze heeft hem altijd bewonderd en uit die bewondering ontstond een platonische liefde die ze tot zijn dood (slokdarmkanker) levend heeft gehouden.

I saw a spirit world so intricate and vast, so thoroughly laced through our existence here on earth, that the rivers of departing souls have no choice but to turn back to it. They were not lost, these spirits. They did not wander. They did not wail. They did not cry out for guidance or the resolution of some petty mystery that had plagued them in mortal life. They returned. They returned with hunger. They returned with joy. They sought no greater realm. And what could that mean but there is no greater realm than this, Ramses. And so why would I wish to ever leave?

Thanks to superior organization, the Egyptian armed forces scored a dual victory, on land and sea, over that second alliance. The fleet of the “Peoples of the North” was entirely destroyed and the invasion route through the Delta was cut. At the same time a third coalition of the same white-skinned Indo-Aryans was being assembled, again in Libya, against the Black Egyptian nation. Yet, this was not a racial conflict in the modern sense. To be sure, the two hostile groups were fully conscious of their ethnic and racial differences, but it was much more a question of the great movement of disinherited peoples of the north toward richer and more advanced countries. Ramses III demolished that third coalition as he had destroyed the first two.... As a result of this third victory over the Indo-Aryans, he took an exceptional number of prisoners. This enabled him to increase appreciably the slave labor force on royal construction sites and in the army. Such was invariably the procedure for acclimating white-skinned persons in Egypt, a process that became especially widespread during the low period. By bearing this in mind, we may avoid attributing a purely imaginary role to people who contributed absolutely nothing to Egyptian civilization.

The era of data is here; we are now recorded. That, like all change, is frightening, but between the gunmetal gray of the government and the hot pink of product offers we just can’t refuse, there is an open and ungarish way. To use data to know yet not manipulate, to explore but not to pry, to protect but not to smother, to see yet never expose, and, above all, to repay that priceless gift we bequeath to the world when we share our lives so that other lives might be better—and to fulfill for everyone that oldest of human hopes, from Gilgamesh to Ramses to today: that our names be remembered, not only in stone but as part of memory itself.

Solomon never had a degree, but he mastered wisdom. David never had a degree, but he mastered warfare. Moses never had a degree, but he mastered leadership. Asaph never had a degree, but he mastered music. Ahitophel never had a degree, but he mastered common sense. Job never had a degree, but he mastered patience. Elijah never had a degree, but he mastered preaching. Daniel never had a degree, but he mastered oracles. Paul never had a degree, but he mastered theology. Jesus never had a degree, but he mastered life. Imhotep never went to university, but he built pyramids. Amenhotep never went to university, but he built schools. Thutmose never went to university, but he built pyramids. Akhenaten never went to university, but he built states. Ramses never went to university, but he built empires.

Humanism has dominated the world for 300 years, which is not such a long time. The pharaohs ruled Egypt for 3,000 years, and the popes dominated Europe for a millennium. If you told an Egyptian in the time of Ramses II that one day the pharaohs will be gone, he would probably have been aghast. ‘How can we live without a pharaoh? Who will ensure order, peace and justice?’ If you told people in the Middle Ages that within a few centuries God will be dead, they would have been horrified. ‘How can we live without God? Who will give life meaning and protect us from chaos?’ Looking back, many think that the downfall of the pharaohs and the death of God were both positive developments. Maybe the collapse of humanism will also be beneficial. People are usually afraid of change because they fear the unknown. But the single greatest constant of history is that everything changes.

On the subject of Egypt, Ellen Cherry was so vague she thought Ramses II was a jazz piano player.

I think Ramses is a wonderful name for a pet raccoon. Don't you?" "Why Ramses?" argued the Master, glumly. "Why not Ramses?" demanded the Mistress in polite surprise. "I don't know the answer," grouchily admitted the defeated Master, "Ramses it is. Or rather he is. I think it's a hideous name, especially for a coon. Let's hope he'll die. Lad, next time you go into the woods, I'll muzzle you. You've just let us in for a mort of bother." Lad wiggled self-consciously, and stooped again to lick smooth the ruffled fur of Ramses.

again. Nefertari

Both men practically fell all over themselves to agree. She felt a stab of guilt. Part of what she’d just said was a lie. But hardly a damnable one. In fact, she’d read the entirety of his journals—thirty-five volumes from a lifetime of expeditions to Egypt—in a single day’s time. And she’d memorized every word. These were talents afforded her by the same elixir that had changed the color of her eyes to blue, that ensured her tangle of brown curls remained the same length and the same shining luster. That made her flesh and bones all but indestructible. That had given her the gift of eternal life.

For with solitude had come freedom.

But when you feel as if you are but a dry leaf carried by the endless winds of time, and you can bear the thought of what seems like a haphazard wandering no longer, you must go where there is pain and seek to alleviate it.

Ramses laughs. “And what about me? What if I’m not happy?

The best way to hunt big game is to lure it. Ramses Howell is the biggest game in town. His investment firm isn’t the largest, but it’s had the highest returns the last four years running. Once is lucky. Twice is impressive. Four times…fucking unheard of. I’d had my eye on him for a while.

I’m the Manhattan Project. Ramses is the doppelgänger Oppenheimer.

With Ramses it feels…personal. I don’t think he’s in love with me, I’m not an idiot. But I do think he views me as a challenge, and that’s a dangerous position to be in with a man who doesn’t just play to win—he plays to annihilate.

His sudden need and urgency a reminder of how recently he’d been freed from the dark, from death. And how easily convinced he was it might try to reclaim him.

Never ad his ancient mortal past and his immortal present collided with such clarity and force.

It doesn’t weaken us as women, as immortals, to follow our love, even if it leads to a man.

It had been thousands of years since he’d felt so vulnerable, so humble. So afraid.