Romulus Quotes

Dalmatia,” Nico said, making Jason jump. Holy Romulus . . . Jason wished he could put a bell around Nico di Angelo’s neck to remind him the guy was there. Nico had this disturbing habit of standing silently in the corner, blending into the shadows.

What is pride without honor? What is honor without truth? Honor is not what you say. It is not what you read.” Romulus thumps his chest. “Honor is what you do.

Oh, my dear! I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else! My name is Rhea Silvia. I was the mother to Romulus and Remus, thousands of years ago. But you’re so kind to think I look as young as the 1950s.

For he (Cato) gives his opinion as if he were in Plato's Republic, not in Romulus' cesspool.

Cicero once said of Cato, ‘he talks as if he were in the Republic of Plato, when in fact he is in the crap of Romulus’.

All that coastline we've been sailing pas is it, but I guess back in the Roman times it was called ... what'd you say, Jason? Bodacious?' 'Dalmatia', Nico said, making Jason jump. Holy Romulus ... Jason wished he could put a bell around Nico di Angelo's neck to remind him the guy was there. Nico has this disturbing habit of standing silently in the corner, blending into the shadows.

Thus the quarrel that arose between Remus and Romulus demonstrated the division of the earthly city against itself; while the conflict between Cain and Abel displayed the hostility between the two cities themselves, the City of God and the city of men. Thus

Whoever wants to hide a big scandal is best to stage a small one

كل دولة تسمي نفسها وطنا عندما توشك على ارتكاب جريمة ..

Honor is not what you say. It is not what you read.” Romulus thumps his chest. “Honor is what you do.

Nowadays it seems you learn only what is reasonable and relevant. I went to Rome with a young friend, educated on the latest lines, and who had taken historical honours at Cambridge. The first morning the pats of butter came up stamped with the Twins. “ Good old Romulus and Remus,” said I. “ Good old who? ” said she. She had never heard of the Twins and was much bored when I told her the story; they had no place in “ con¬ stitutional history ”, and for her the old wolf of the Capitol howled in vain: “ Great God! I’d rather be ”!

Wer einen großen Skandal verheimlichen will, inszeniert am besten einen kleinen.

There are three primal urges in human beings: food, sex, and rewriting some else's play.

But being overborne with numbers, and nobody daring to face about, stretching out his hands to heaven, [Romulus] prayed to Jupiter to stop the army, and not to neglect but maintain the Roman cause, now in extreme danger. The prayer was no sooner made, than shame and respect for their king checked many; the fears of the fugitives changed suddenly into confidence.

It was necessary, therefore, to Moses that he should find the people of Israel in Egypt enslaved and oppressed by the Egyptians, in order that they should be disposed to follow him so as to be delivered out of bondage. It was necessary that Romulus should not remain in Alba, and that he should be abandoned at his birth, in order that he should become King of Rome and founder of the fatherland. It

the partisans, on one side were the backers of Caesar, with his popular political programme and clear leanings towards one-man rule. Cicero assumed that this was where the sympathies and interests of the poor naturally lay. On the other side were a motley group of those who, for various reasons, did not like what Caesar was up to or the powers he seemed to be seeking. A few were probably as highly principled as they were unrealistic; as Cicero once said of Cato, ‘he talks as if he were in the Republic of Plato, when in fact he is in the crap of Romulus’.

Romulus and Remus, twin sons of dark Mars and a human vestal, sucking at the dugs of a wolf bitch.

Roman writers tended to take it for granted that the origins of the senate went back to Romulus, as a council of ‘old men’ (senes),

final Head Peacekeeper, Romulus Thread.

Thank you,” said Lee’s voice. “And now we turn to regular contributor Royal, for an update on how the new Wizarding order is affecting the Muggle world.” “Thanks, River,” said an unmistakable voice, deep, measured, reassuring. “Kingsley!” burst out Ron. “We know!” said Hermione, hushing him. “Muggles remain ignorant of the source of their suffering as they continue to sustain heavy casualties,” said Kingsley. “However, we continue to hear truly inspirational stories of wizards and witches risking their own safety to protect Muggle friends and neighbors, often without the Muggles’ knowledge. I’d like to appeal to all our listeners to emulate their example, perhaps by casting a protective charm over any Muggle dwellings in your street. Many lives could be saved if such simple measures are taken.” “And what would you say, Royal, to those listeners who reply that in these dangerous times, it should be ‘Wizards first’?” asked Lee. “I’d say that it’s one short step from ‘Wizards first’ to ‘Purebloods first,’ and then to ‘Death Eaters,’” replied Kingsley. “We’re all human, aren’t we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.” “Excellently put, Royal, and you’ve got my vote for Minister of Magic if ever we get out of this mess,” said Lee. “And now, over to Romulus for our popular feature ‘Pals of Potter.’” “Thanks, River,” said another very familiar voice; Ron started to speak, but Hermione forestalled him in a whisper. “We know it’s Lupin!

În fiecare zi, ne batem joc De păsări, de iubire şi de mare, Şi nu băgăm de seamă că, în loc, Rămâne un deşert de disperare. Ne amăgeşte lenea unui vis Pe care-l anulăm cu-o șovăire; Ne reculegem într-un cerc închis Ce nu permite ochilor s-admire; Ne răsucim pe-un așternut posac, Însingurați în doi, din lașitate, Mințindu-ne cu guri care prefac În zgura sărutările uzate; Ne pomenim prea goi într-un târziu, Pe-o nepermis de joasă treaptă tristă: Prea sceptici şi prea singuri, prea-n pustiu, Ca să mai știm că dragostea există. În fiecare zi, ne batem joc De păsări, de iubire şi de mare, Şi nu băgăm de seama că, în loc, Rămâne un deşert de disperare.

But a country which can be saved only by money is a lost country anyway. After all, what is the choice, really? On the one hand: catastrophic capitalism, and on the other a capital catastrophe.

Cato `in the best spirit and with unquestionable honesty ... does harm to the State: the resolutions he puts forward are more fitting for Plato's ideal Republic, than the cess-pit of Romulus'.'°

When I was a boy, my grandfather taught me the list of kings: Romulus, Numa Pompilius, Tullus Hostilius, Ancus Marcius, Tarquinius the Elder, Servius Tullius. Tarquinius the Proud was to be the last, the very last, cast out and replaced forever by something called a republic. A mockery! A mistake! An experiment that failed! Today is the republic’s final day. Tomorrow, men will shout in the Forum, ‘All hail King Coriolanus!

Of course, Cato did not fall into this category. But his inability to compromise made him as fatal to his cause, Cicero believed, as the moral dereliction of the others did. “As for our dear friend Cato,” he observed to Atticus while the land bill was being debated, “I have as warm a regard for him as you do. The fact remains that with all his patriotism, he can be a political liability. He speaks in the Senate as if he were living in Plato’s Republic instead of Romulus’s cesspool.

Roman writers tended to take it for granted that the origins of the senate went back to Romulus, as a council of ‘old men’ (senes), and that by the fifth century BCE it was already a fully fledged institution operating much as it did in 63 BCE.

Meldungen stürzen die Welt nie um. Das tun die Tatsachen, die wir nun einmal nicht ändern können, da sie schon geschehen sind, wenn die Meldungen eintreffen. Die Meldungen regen die Welt nur auf, man gewöhne sie sich deshalb so weit als möglich ab.

The name ‘Romulus’ is itself a give-away. Although Romans usually assumed that he had lent his name to his newly established city, we are now fairly confident that the opposite was the case: ‘Romulus’ was an imaginative construction out of ‘Roma’. ‘Romulus’ was merely the archetypal ‘Mr Rome’. Besides,

Fear only fear itself.

إنه رجل ذكي .. إذا أراد الإنسان أن يخفي فضيحة كبيرة فمن الأفضل أن يرتكب فضيحة صغيرة

And it was inconceivable that the God of War would not be able to be the victor in a little skirmish like that, when all the cards were already stacked in his favour. What could Jupiter do if he took her by force & deflowered her? In Roman Mythology, Mars was the only God who had ever raped a Vestal Virgin, an event that led to the birth of Romulus & Remus & the founding of Rome.[MMT]

About seven hundred years ago, a pack of bandits arrived in central Italy, led by two brothers named Romulus and Remus. They despoiled the nearby peoples of land and women and set up their own little bandit state. At some point, Romulus established a fine old Roman tradition by murdering his brother. Had it been the other way around, I suppose we might now be living in a city named Reme.

It was necessary, therefore, to Moses that he should find the people of Israel in Egypt enslaved and oppressed by the Egyptians, in order that they should be disposed to follow him so as to be delivered out of bondage. It was necessary that Romulus should not remain in Alba, and that he should be abandoned at his birth, in order that he should become King of Rome and founder of the fatherland. It was necessary that Cyrus should find the Persians discontented with the government of the Medes, and the Medes soft and effeminate through their long peace. Theseus could not have shown his ability had he not found the Athenians dispersed. These opportunities, therefore, made those men fortunate, and their high ability enabled them to recognize the opportunity whereby their country was ennobled and made famous.

Edgy in a different way was the idea of the asylum, and the welcome, that Romulus gave to all comers – foreigners, criminals and runaways – in finding citizens for his new town. There were positive aspects to this. In particular, it reflected Roman political culture’s extraordinary openness and willingness to incorporate outsiders, which set it apart from every other ancient Western society that we know.

In der Nacht waren sie der Gegenstand seiner Träume, und während des Tages trieb ihn der Eifer, seinem Vorbild ähnlich zu werden, hinaus und stachelte ihn zu dem Vorsatz an, die gleichen Taten zu verrichten.

The Roman co-founder named Romulus Had hair that was pretty ridiculous: With head lice it teemed; This was not esteemed -- His friends called him Homo pediculus. A coed, though very curvaceous And charming and socially gracious, Could not get a date 'Cause college guys hate When gals are so darn furfuraceous. "Why is it that people don't want us? This question continues to haunt us." The warthogs bemoan Their being alone. "Or maybe we're too xanthodontous?

It isn't that I don't remember. I had my dreams. About another world. Mine. But King Joseph had to go to work, son. The world put that to him. So I took up my hammer and my saw and I made what I could as well as I could, and that was enough. More, you hear me, is crazy.

I stick to the road out of habit, but it’s a bad choice, because it’s full of the remains of those who tried to flee. Some were incinerated entirely. But others, probably overcome with smoke, escaped the worst of the flames and now lie reeking in various states of decomposition, carrion for scavengers, blanketed by flies. I killed you, I think as I pass a pile. And you. And you. Because I did. It was my arrow, aimed at the chink in the force field surrounding the arena, that brought on this firestorm of retribution. That sent the whole country of Panem into chaos. In my head I hear President Snow’s words, spoken the morning I was to begin the Victory Tour. “Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire, you have provided a spark that, left unattended, may grow to an inferno that destroys Panem.” It turns out he wasn’t exaggerating or simply trying to scare me. He was, perhaps, genuinely attempting to enlist my help. But I had already set something in motion that I had no ability to control. Burning. Still burning, I think numbly. The fires at the coal mines belch black smoke in the distance. There’s no one left to care, though. More than ninety percent of the district’s population is dead. The remaining eight hundred or so are refugees in District 13 — which, as far as I’m concerned, is the same thing as being homeless forever. I know I shouldn’t think that; I know I should be grateful for the way we have been welcomed. Sick, wounded, starving, and empty-handed. Still, I can never get around the fact that District 13 was instrumental in 12’s destruction. This doesn’t absolve me of blame — there’s plenty of blame to go around. But without them, I would not have been part of a larger plot to overthrow the Capitol or had the wherewithal to do it. The citizens of District 12 had no organized resistance movement of their own. No say in any of this. They only had the misfortune to have me. Some survivors think it’s good luck, though, to be free of District 12 at last. To have escaped the endless hunger and oppression, the perilous mines, the lash of our final Head Peacekeeper, Romulus Thread. To have a new home at all is seen as a wonder since, up until a short time ago, we hadn’t even known that District 13 still existed.

And now, over to Romulus for our popular feature ‘Pals of Potter.’” “Thanks, River,” said another very familiar voice; Ron started to speak, but Hermione forestalled him in a whisper. “We know it’s Lupin!” “Romulus, do you maintain, as you have every time you’ve appeared on our program, that Harry Potter is still alive?” “I do,” said Lupin firmly. “There is no doubt at all in my mind that his death would be proclaimed as widely as possible by the Death Eaters if it had happened, because it would strike a deadly blow at the morale of those resisting the new regime. ‘The Boy Who Lived’ remains a symbol of everything for which we are fighting: the triumph of good, the power of innocence, the need to keep resisting.” A mixture of gratitude and shame welled up in Harry. Had Lupin forgiven him, then, for the terrible things he had said when they had last met? “And what would you say to Harry if you knew he was listening, Romulus?” “I’d tell him we’re all with him in spirit,” said Lupin, then hesitated slightly. “And I’d tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right.” Harry looked at Hermione, whose eyes were full of tears. “Nearly always right,” she repeated. “Oh, didn’t I tell you?” said Ron in surprise. “Bill told me Lupin’s living with Tonks again! And apparently she’s getting pretty big too…” “…and our usual update on those friends of Harry Potter’s who are suffering for their allegiance?” Lee was saying. “Well, as regular listeners will know, several of the more outspoken supporters of Harry Potter have now been imprisoned, including Xenophilius Lovegood, erstwhile editor of The Quibbler,” said Lupin. “At least he’s still alive!” muttered Ron.

The daughters of the high priest Anius changed whatever they chose into wheat, wine or oil. Athalida, daughter of Mercury, was resuscitated several times. Aesculapius resuscitated Hippolytus. Hercules dragged Alcestis back from death. Heres returned to the world after passing a fortnight in hell. The parents of Romulus and Remus were a god and a vestal virgin. The Palladium fell from heaven in the city of Troy. The hair of Berenice became a constellation.… Give me the name of one people among whom incredible prodigies were not performed, especially when few knew how to read and write.—VOLTAIRE, MIRACLES AND IDOLATRY

We have also heard within the last few hours that Rubeus Hagrid”--all three of them gasped, and so nearly missed the rest of the sentence--“well-known gamekeeper at Hogwarts School, has narrowly escaped arrest within the grounds of Hogwarts, where he is rumored to have hosted a ‘Support Harry Potter’ party in his house. However, Hagrid was not taken into custody, and is, we believe, on the run.” “I suppose it helps, when escaping from Death Eaters, if you’ve got a sixteen-foot-high half brother?” asked Lee. “It would tend to give you an edge,” agreed Lupin gravely. “May I just add that while we here at Potterwatch applaud Hagrid’s spirit, we would urge even the most devoted of Harry’s supporters against following Hagrid’s lead. ‘Support Harry Potter’ parties are unwise in the present climate.” “Indeed they are, Romulus,” said Lee, “so we suggest that you continue to show your devotion to the man with the lightning scar by listening to Potterwatch! And now let’s move to news concerning the wizard who is proving just as elusive as Harry Potter. We like to refer to him as the Chief Death Eater, and here to give his views on some of the more insane rumors circulating about him, I’d like to introduce a new correspondent: Rodent.” “‘Rodent’?” said yet another familiar voice, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione cried out together: “Fred!” “No--is it George?” “It’s Fred, I think,” said Ron, leaning in closer, as whichever twin it was said, “I’m not being ‘Rodent,’ no way, I told you I wanted to be ‘Rapier’!

There is something in the contemplation of the mode in which America has been settled, that, in a noble breast, should forever extinguish the prejudices of national dislikes. Settled by the people of all nations, all nations may claim her for their own. You can not spill a drop of American blood without spilling the blood of the whole world. Be he Englishman, Frenchman, German, Dane, or Scot; the European who scoffs at an American, calls his own brother Raca, and stands in danger of the judgment. We are not a narrow tribe of men, with a bigoted Hebrew nationality—whose blood has been debased in the attempt to ennoble it, by maintaining an exclusive succession among ourselves. No: our blood is as the flood of the Amazon, made up of a thousand noble currents all pouring into one. We are not a nation, so much as a world; for unless we may claim all the world for our sire, like Melchisedec, we are without father or mother. For who was our father and our mother? Or can we point to any Romulus and Remus for our founders? Our ancestry is lost in the universal paternity; and Caesar and Alfred, St. Paul and Luther, and Homer and Shakespeare are as much ours as Washington, who is as much the world's as our own. We are the heirs of all time, and with all nations we divide our inheritance. On this Western Hemisphere all tribes and people are forming into one federated whole; and there is a future which shall see the estranged children of Adam restored as to the old hearthstone in Eden. The other world beyond this, which was longed for by the devout before Columbus' time, was found in the New; and the deep-sea-lead, that first struck these soundings, brought up the soil of Earth's Paradise. Not a Paradise then, or now; but to be made so, at God's good pleasure, and in the fullness and mellowness of time. The seed is sown, and the harvest must come; and our children's children, on the world's jubilee morning, shall all go with their sickles to the reaping. Then shall the curse of Babel be revoked, a new Pentecost come, and the language they shall speak shall be the language of Britain. Frenchmen, and Danes, and Scots; and the dwellers on the shores of the Mediterranean, and in the regions round about; Italians, and Indians, and Moors; there shall appear unto them cloven tongues as of fire.

Muggles remain ignorant of the source of their suffering as they continue to sustain heavy casualties,” said Kingsley. “However, we continue to hear truly inspirational stories of wizards and witches risking their own safety to protect Muggle friends and neighbors, often without the Muggles’ knowledge. I’d like to appeal to all our listeners to emulate their example, perhaps by casting a protective charm over any Muggle dwellings in your street. Many lives could be saved if such simple measures are taken.” “And what would you say, Royal, to those listeners who reply that in these dangerous times, it should be ‘Wizards first’?” asked Lee. “I’d say that it’s one short step from ‘Wizards first’ to ‘Purebloods first,’ and then to ‘Death Eaters,’” replied Kingsley. “We’re all human, aren’t we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.” “Excellently put, Royal, and you’ve got my vote for Minister of Magic if ever we get out of this mess,” said Lee. “And now, over to Romulus for our popular feature ‘Pals of Potter.

Italian cuisine is the most famous and beloved cuisine in the world for a reason. Accessible, comforting, seemingly simple but endlessly delicious, it never disappoints, just as it seems to never change. It would be easy to give you, dear reader, a book filled with the al dente images of the Italy of your imagination. To pretend as if everything in this country is encased in amber. But Italian cuisine is not frozen in time. It's exposed to the same winds that blow food traditions in new directions every day. And now, more than at any time in recent or distant memory, those forces are stirring up change across the country that will forever alter the way Italy eats. That change starts here, in Rome, the capital of Italy, the cradle of Western civilization, a city that has been reinventing itself for three millennia- since, as legend has it, Romulus murdered his brother Remus and built the foundations of Rome atop the Palatine Hill. Here you'll find a legion of chefs and artisans working to redefine the pillars of Italian cuisine: pasta, pizza, espresso, gelato, the food that makes us non-Italians dream so ravenously of this country, that makes us wish we were Italians, and that stirs in the people of Italy no small amount of pride and pleasure.

But the worshippers and admirers of these gods delight in imitating their scandalous iniquities, and are nowise concerned that the republic be less depraved and licentious. Only let it remain undefeated, they say, only let it flourish and abound in resources; let it be glorious by its victories, or still better, secure in peace; and what matters it to us? This is our concern, that every man be able to increase his wealth so as to supply his daily prodigalities, and so that the powerful may subject the weak for their own purposes. Let the poor court the rich for a living, and that under their protection they may enjoy a sluggish tranquillity; and let the rich abuse the poor as their dependants, to minister to their pride. Let the people applaud not those who protect their interests, but those who provide them with pleasure. Let no severe duty be commanded, no impurity forbidden. Let kings estimate their prosperity, not by the righteousness, but by the servility of their subjects. Let the provinces stand loyal to the kings, not as moral guides, but as lords of their possessions and purveyors of their pleasures; not with a hearty reverence, but a crooked and servile fear. Let the laws take cognizance rather of the injury done to another man's property, than of that done to one's own person. If a man be a nuisance to his neighbor, or injure his property, family, or person, let him be actionable; but in his own affairs let everyone with impunity do what he will in company with his own family, and with those who willingly join him. Let there be a plentiful supply of public prostitutes for every one who wishes to use them, but specially for those who are too poor to keep one for their private use. Let there be erected houses of the largest and most ornate description: in these let there be provided the most sumptuous banquets, where every one who pleases may, by day or night, play, drink, vomit, dissipate. Let there be everywhere heard the rustling of dancers, the loud, immodest laughter of the theatre; let a succession of the most cruel and the most voluptuous pleasures maintain a perpetual excitement. If such happiness is distasteful to any, let him be branded as a public enemy; and if any attempt to modify or put an end to it let him be silenced, banished, put an end to. Let these be reckoned the true gods, who procure for the people this condition of things, and preserve it when once possessed. Let them be worshipped as they wish; let them demand whatever games they please, from or with their own worshippers; only let them secure that such felicity be not imperilled by foe, plague, or disaster of any kind. What sane man would compare a republic such as this, I will not say to the Roman empire, but to the palace of Sardanapalus, the ancient king who was so abandoned to pleasures, that he caused it to be inscribed on his tomb, that now that he was dead, he possessed only those things which he had swallowed and consumed by his appetites while alive? If these men had such a king as this, who, while self-indulgent, should lay no severe restraint on them, they would more enthusiastically consecrate to him a temple and a flamen than the ancient Romans did to Romulus.

Ilia the fair, a priestess and a queen, Who, full of Mars, in time, with kindly throes, Shall at a birth two goodly boys disclose. The royal babes a tawny wolf shall drain: Then Romulus his grandsire's throne shall gain, Of martial tow'rs the founder shall become, The people Romans call, the city Rome. To them no bounds of empire I assign, Nor term of years to their immortal line. Even haughty Juno, who, with endless broils, Earth, seas, and heaven, and Jove himself turmoils; At length atoned, her friendly pow'r shall join, To cherish and advance the Trojan line.

Cartile? Niste ambrozii zeesti, sampanizate de sensibilitatea generatiilor, printre care destule romane. Traim in nouri! Din toate literaturile lumii, citim carti-farduri, carti-stupefiante, carti-de-scarpinat, carti-de-dormit, carti-de-evadare-din-realitate, carti betive sau carti rautacioase, cum sint toate fiintele care n-au baut decat apa! Cu banii de la tata si cu romantismul de la silozul literar, iata-ne principese!

Noi, indienii, credem ca si el, ca lumea este o iluzie...un roi de visuri zburatoare inconjurate de eternitatea unui ocean de somn. Il dispretuim pe Shakespeare, cand auzim pe Prospero care se crede un salvator al lumii, prin vrajitorie, prin flautul lui Ariel! Sintem convinsi ca lumea nu poate fi vindecata, dar asta n-are nici o inportanta, fiindca lumea nu exista!

-Ce sa fac, dom'le, ce sa fac? Cine n-are lemne, nu poate picta. Lemnele sunt scumpe. In atelier e totdeauna frig. Natura imi face mizerii: trebuie sa gasesc numai fete rezistente la frig...de obicei, florarese, ca astea sunt obisnuite! Sa bata vantul prin ele, in Piata Sf. Gheorghe, si dupa doi-trei ani de antrenament, le culeg tocmai bune de pictat!...Sint reci, si negre ca pamantul, incat eu cred ca ghioceii cresc chiar din ele, asa cum noua ne creste parul. Ca pictor, bineinteles, eu lucrez cu paltonul pe spinare, dar modelul meu tremura in frigul odaii. Ei, bine, n-am inima de piatra pe care mi-o presupui: cand o vad invinetita artistic, mi se face mila de ea si o invit in pat, unde am datoria sa ma ocup de caloriile ei! ...O tratez cu un ceai fierbinte, cu biscuiti, sau cu nite miezuri de nuca, prajite pe resou, sau cu etcetera...dar etcetera mai rar! La plecare, imi lasa florile nevandute! Unele sunt de coloare vinetie...juri ca sunt de liliac-batut... -Fetele sau florile? -Toate! Cand pictez un nud violet, mi se reproseaza ca pictez fantezist! Habar n-au de realitate criticii astia! Toate fetele pe care le pictez sunt violete! Natura le face suprarealiste, nu eu!

Ne-am plimbat tinandu-ne de brat, pana la opt, cand am intrat sa gustam ceva. Imi povestea intamplari cu fete si baieti, accidente, plimbari, intarziind cu explicatiile asupra unor lucruri mici, incarcand cu detalii fiecare incident. Cuvintele ei aveau un cuprins nou, imbogatite cu un sens pierdut, sau tocite de prea multa intrebuintare. Comori de intelepciune ne-am priceput sa tragem din conditia de invinsi

Stia o multime de lucruri fermecatoare si nefolositoare. Ii spuneam uneori: - Tu n-ai trait, dar in schimb ai invatat!... Erneste imi raspundea cu sinceritate: - Poate! Cartea e mai ieftina decat viata!... Trimiti tanarul la viata, dar el rusinat se duce la carte, fiindca n-are bani, n-are mijloace de cunoastere... Usor ne vine sa ironizam pe tinerii scriitori si artisti care n-au cunoscut viata!...E o povata de om satul si ghiftuit. Multi ajung carturari de seama, numai fiindca le-au lipsit mijloacele necesare sa traiasca. Numara-ti pe degete numele savantilor ce-ti vin acum in minte, si aminteste-ti ce naivi au fost, pana la anii batranetii! Niste sori carbonizati ai bibliotecii, niste periferici ai vietii...

Omul care nu stie ce vrea, regreta si ce a facut si ce n-a facut! Sint cativa ani in tinerete, care in orice caz trebuie considerati pierduti, altfel toata viata e primejduita: nu ne grabim decat atunci cand avem sentimentul de a fi intarziat...Nu facem nimic de isprava, daca nu suntem aprinsi de ambitia de a ajunge din urma timpul pierdut.

Natura este democrata! Face trandafiri din maracini, si face maracini din trandafiri...Laboratorul dumneavoastra nu poate nimic! Numai natura poate! Va maritati cu Socrate, cu Goethe, cu Einstein, ca sa umpleti lumea cu astefel de genii, si va pomeniti ca din acesti oameni mari lastaresc niste functionari stupizi! Dupa un om genial, natura se odihneste mii de ani.

(...)opiniile politice ale oamenilor nu sunt altceva decat chestiune de nutritie si de digestie. Idealuri n-au decat flamanzii.

E un tip ridicol, dar fiindca loveste acolo unde trebuie, socialistii il simpatizeaza, cum se simpatizeaza acordurile de terta, in muzica!...(...) Era socotit, dispretuitor de vorbe si poezie, ca Tabla Inmultirii!

Nimic nu e usor. Cine se increde usorului si aparentului, devine gunoiul tuturor furtunilor existentei.(...) Pretutindeni unde morala apune, pestera preistoriei isi reintroneaza faradelegea, femeia primeste jugulplugului, copiii sunt zvarliti ca hrana cainilor, raurile spala sangele rafinat al universitatilor.

Cum mintim, cum vrajim adevarul, numai si numai pentru a avea forta de a respira. (...)Doamne, n-a murit decat o singura fiinta, si cat de haotic s-a marit lumea, de ieri si pana azi... Fericirea nu este un ideal; este o nevroza!

The Earth could not shoulder the weight of human error much longer, and unless action was taken soon, mankind would find itself suffocated in its own exponential growth. How much time must they invest in order to breathe life into the dead planet Mars? How much must they evolve as a species if they hoped to survive that long?       “Romulus?

Then the human race will suffer another setback at the hands of its own ignorance. I, however, will not be party to such ignorance. Humans need to face the truth, and we are in a position to act as a catalyst in that quest.”       For several seconds, Romulus did not answer. When he finally did, his voice was edged with a confidence Remus had never heard before.

AD 476, the year when Romulus Augustulus, the last Roman emperor of the West, was deposed. But in fact the removal of Romulus was only the final, inevitable step in a process that had begun long before. By 476, the emperor was a puppet without any effective power; the empire had already broken up and was losing one piece after another; barbarians were dominant in Gaul, in Spain, in Africa, and even in Italy; and Rome had been sacked more than once, by the Goths in 410 and again by the Vandals in 455. In short, the dissolution of the empire was already so far advanced that the deposition of the last Western emperor was not very important news. A famous essay by Arnaldo Momigliano titled "An Empire's Silent Fall" demonstrates that the so-called great event of 476, the dethronement of Romulus Augustulus, was noted by few at the time. But if things had reached this point, if the western half of the Roman Empire had been reduced to an empty shell that a barbarian chieftain could sweep aside without eliciting a protest, it was because of a series of traumas that had begun exactly a century before. In 376, an unforeseen flood of refugees at the frontiers of the empire, and the inability of the Roman authorities to manage this emergency properly, gave rise to a dramatic conflict that was to culminate in Rome's most disastrous military defeat since Hannibal's Carthaginians destroyed the Roman army at Cannae in 216 BC.

Romulus, deified as “Mars Quirinus,” was said to have instituted the Roman calendar, which began on April 21, 753 B.C. ab urbe condita AUC “from the birth of the city.” Astronomically the New Year sun rising in a new constellation marked this time.

Think of it! An opportunity to remake the world! An opportunity to create a steam-driven utopia! To re-educate humanity to despise violence. And what do they do, those incompetents? They opt for the pretty clothes and the empire-mad European imperialist culture of the 19th century. Damn those fools. Those geeks, arrogant, myopic, ivory tower board gamers. Damn them.

Are you such a coward that you would use a woman’s babies against her?

At the start of this book, we asked what the world would be like if, instead of suckling Romulus and Remus, the wolf had eaten them. What if there had been no Rome? What if there had been only Barbarians? After the disappearance of the last Roman emperor from the West, a Barbarian empire came into being that seems to answer that question. The Eastern Goths, the Ostrogoths, whose parents and grandparents had raided with Attila and his Huns, moved back to Italy in 489, and this time they stayed there. They were no longer pagans, but as self-aware Goths they avoided the Roman Catholic Church. Like the Vandals and the Visigoths, they were Arians, and under their king Theodoric they set about building a new kind of Rome. In place of the old violent, intolerant and ruthless Roman Catholic empire, there was a gentler and more inclusive Barbarian vision. Whereas Rome tried to make all its citizens ‘Romans’, and tried not to recognize nations within the Empire, Theodoric believed that it was possible to build an empire of different nationalities. He set out to establish harmony between the different kingdoms and peoples of the West, intermarrying his relatives to different royal families and guaranteeing them their own law codes. He ruled both as a Gothic king and as a patrician, paying respectful homage to Constantinople, but never calling himself emperor.

Războiul începe întotdeauna duminică dimineaţa la zece Şi, daca-i senin, pînă spre seara la şase, pier cu duiumul eroi. Pentru pace, se cere sobrietate, un aer ceva mai rece: Pacea se-ncheie-n zori, de obicei la cinci, joi.

You replace all my doubts... with others.

The firmament that is New York is greater than the sum of its constituent parts. It is a city and it is also a creature, a mentality, a disease, a threat, an electromagnet, a cheap stage set, an accident corridor. It is an implausible character, a monstrous vortex of contradictions, an attraction-repulsion mechanism so extreme no one could have made it up. New York, which has been called the capital of the twentieth century, as Paris was that of the nineteenth, would seem on the face of it to be founded on progress, on change, on the bulldozing of what has faded to make way for the next thing, the thing after that, the future. The lure of the new is built right into its name; it is the part of the name that actually registers, since the “York,” a commemoration of a colonial lineage, carries no resonance and exists only as a vestige. New York is incarnated by Manhattan (the other boroughs, noble, useful, and significant though they may be, are merely adjuncts), and Manhattan is a finite space that cannot be expanded but only continually resurfaced and reconfigured. Manhattan is a wonderland of real estate speculation, a hot center whose temperature cannot but increase as population increases and desirability remains several paces ahead of capacity. The myth of Manhattan, therefore, is cast in the future tense. It does not hark back to a heroic past, lacks its Romulus and Remus (except in the image of that transaction between Peter Minuit and the Canarsies, which is simply the first clever deal, the primordial ground-floor entry). New York has no truck with the past. It expels its dead.

Woe unto the red dragon, for his extermination draws near; and his caverns shall be occupied of the white dragon that betokens the Saxons whom you have invited here. The red signifies the race of Briton, that shall be oppressed of the white. Therefore, shall the mountains and the valleys thereof be made level plane and the streams of the valley’s shall flow with blood. The rights of religion shall be done away, and the ruin of the churches be made manifest. At last, she that is oppressed shall prevail, and resist the cruelty of them that came from without. For the bore of Cornwall shall bring sucker and shall trample their necks beneath his feet. The islands of the ocean shall be subdued onto his power, and the forest of goal shall he possess. The house of Romulus shall dread the fierceness of his prowess, and doubtful shall be his end.

THE VATICAN The very name Vatican comes from a surprising source. It is neither Latin nor Greek, nor is it of biblical origin. In fact, the word we associate with the Church has a pagan origin. More than twenty-eight centuries ago, even before the legendary founding of Rome by Romulus and Remus, there was a people called the Etruscans. Much of what we think of as Roman culture and civilization actually comes from the Etruscans. Even though we are still trying to master their very difficult language, we already know a great deal about them. We know that, like the Hebrews and the Romans, the Etruscans did not bury their dead inside the walls of their cities. For that reason, on a hillside slope outside the confines of their ancient city in the area that was destined to become Rome, the Etruscans established a very large cemetery. The name of the pagan Etruscan goddess who guarded this necropolis, or city of the dead, was Vatika.

The term “Renaissance man” is something we use today to describe a polymath, a person whose expertise is not limited only to one area but who knows many subjects. This polymath would use his vast knowledge to solve elaborate and complex problems. A Renaissance man never limited himself just to poetry, science, or architecture. Instead, he would gather many abilities and use them to serve humanity.

It was Romulus who was responsible for her education, not Oenone. The habitat personality acted as her teacher, directing a steady stream of information into her sleeping brain; the process was interactive, allowing the habitat to quiz her silently and repeat anything which hadn’t been fully assimilated the first time. She learnt about the difference between Edenists and Adamists, those humans who had the affinity gene and those who didn’t, the ‘originals’, whose DNA was geneered but not expanded. The flood of knowledge sparked an equally impressive curiosity. Romulus didn’t mind, it had infinite patience with all its half-million-strong population. This difference seems silly to me, she confided to

I think the attitude is characteristically western. We feel more affinity with Romulus and Remus than with Nero. We are still busy founding Rome while in New York they fiddle to celebrate its burning.

It seems to me also that Machiavel was rather unwise in placing Moses with Romulus, Cyrus and Theseus. Either Moses was inspired by God, or he was not. If he were not (which we cannot assume is true), then Moses was a mere tool of God, used as the poets employ a deus ex machina when they cannot create a believable outcome. If you continue to evaluate Moses as a mere human, he could not have been very skilful: he led the Jewish people down a forty-year path, which they very easily could have completed in six weeks.

Romulus and Remus were discovered and raised to adulthood by a poor shepherd family.

The founders were twin brothers Romulus and Remus, sons of Mars,

Romulus wanted to build on the Palatine Hill, and Remus favored an alternate placement on Aventine Hill.

Romulus with not only the founding of the city itself, but also most of the structures of government

The third and final barbarian invasion took place in the autumn of 476 CE. The Heruli, another tribe with Germanic roots, invaded. In the Battle of Ravenna, they captured the young Emperor Romulus Augustulus. The Heruli king, Odoacer, forced him to abdicate, officially ending Roman rule in Italy.

Romulus killed his brother and claimed the city as his own.

Five kings followed Romulus on the throne of Rome; and when the sixth, Tarquin the Proud, proved himself a vicious tyrant more than deserving of his nickname, his subjects put their lives on the line and rose in rebellion. In 509 BC, the monarchy was ended for good. The man who had led the uprising, a cousin of Tarquin’s named Brutus, obliged the Roman people to swear a collective oath, ‘that they would never again allow a single man to reign in Rome’. From that moment on, the word ‘king’ was the dirtiest in their political vocabulary. No longer subjects, they ranked instead as cives, ‘citizens’.

Here again, we’re reconstructing the past based on shared myths across cultures—these are instances where the same story appears with slight changes. Obviously, the names are changed, but the shape of the narrative is the same. One common belief is that there were two progenitors of mankind: brothers, sometimes twins. For the Indic, it was Manu and Yemo; the Germanic have tales of Mannus and Ymir. These mythologies were eventually incorporated into histories. For the Romans, Remus and Romulus; the Hebrews, Cain and Abel. Another common myth is that of the Great Flood—it appears in some form in every PIE culture. But overwhelmingly, the most common myth is that of an epic battle ending with the slaying of a serpent, usually a dragon of some sort.

In the lararia or in public life, as we have seen, deceased or living emperors entered the daily devotions of the Romans. The first, like the Indigetes or Novemsiles - such as Aeneas, Romulus or the mythical kings of Latium - were 'men become gods' (Serv., Aen., 12, 794) who 'merited' it (Am., 3, 39). The second were the incarnation of 'the breath, the life that so many thousands of beings breathe', as Seneca says (Clem., 1, 4, 1), quoting Virgil (G, 4, 212 f.), and comparing the empire to an immense beehive whose unity depends on the well-being of its queen. For the Latin philosopher, the emperor resembled the Stoics' pneuma which, born of the fire of Zeus or the divine Word, gave life to the universe: spiritus vitalis.

Romulus,

according to myth this was done by Romulus in 753 BC.

Villicus Vadum: Soldier Of Fortune by Stewart Stafford I am the ghost of lupine Romulus, Founder of Rome, hear my tale, Of Villicus Vadum - young, driven, Steward to Senator Lucius Flavius. Villicus wanted Flavia, the senator’s daughter, But she was betrothed to Marcus Brutus; A consul of noble and virtuous stock, Villicus conspired to take Flavia's hand. Treachery and deception were his tools, Knavish peacock of Rome's epic stage, Sought to take Flavia from Marcus Brutus, To snatch and cage his treasured gem. Bribed a false soothsayer to trap her, Believing her beloved began with V, Flavia agreed to elope with him to Gaul, With Brutus vowing deadly vengeance. Fleeing to the bosom of Rome's enemy - Vercingetorix, at war with Julius Caesar, Villicus offered to spy on the Senate, While plotting to seize Gaul's throne. Queen Verica also caught his eye, Villicus was captured by Mark Antony, Taken to Caesar's camp as a traitor; Brutus challenged him to a duel. Brutus slashed him but spared his life, They dragged Villicus to Rome in chains, To try him for his now infamous crimes; Cicero in defence, Cato as prosecutor. Cicero argued Villicus acted out of love, And that his ambition merited mercy, Cato wanted death for his wicked threat, Julius Caesar pondered a final verdict. Villicus - pardoned but banished from Rome, Immediate death if he returned to Flavia, Villicus kissed the emperor's foot for naught, Flavia refused to join him in fallen exile. Now learn from this outcast's example, friends, That I, Romulus, warn you to avoid at your peril, Villicus Vadum, the wrath of the gods upon him, Until time ceases, sole spectre of night's edge. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.

the city had been founded by Romulus in 753 BC

Blood & Sand by Stewart Stafford Enduring to be burned, bound, beaten, And to die by the sword if necessary; Verus and Priscus entered the arena, To stain Colosseum sand with blood. Emperor Titus drained Nero's lake, Built the vast Flavian Amphitheatre, Panacea to the idle citizens of Rome, Symbol of his beneficence and might. Priscus, far from his Germanian home, Fighting within a symbol of Rome's power, Which ravaged his life and fatherland, For them to decide if he is free or dies. Verus, the hulking, bullish Murmillo; Trained to deliver heavy punishment, Priscus - lightly-armed, agile Thracian; Primed to avoid his rival's huge blows. Titus showed he was Nero's antithesis; No hoarding of tracts of primo Roma, In a profligate orgy of narcissistic pride, Nor taking his own life to escape execution. Domitian, the brother of Titus, watched in envy, The emperor-in-waiting who favoured Verus, And the direct Murmillo style of fighting, Titus favoured Thracian counter-punching. Aware of the patriarchal fraternity's preferences, The gathering looked on in fascinated awe, As their champions of champions clashed, Deciding who was the greatest gladiator of all. Titus had stated there would be no draw; One would win, and one would perish, A rudis freedom staff the survivor's trophy, Out the Porta Sanavivaria - the Gate of Life. One well aware of the other, combat began, Scared eyes locked behind helmeted grilles, Grunts and sweat behind shield and steel, Roars and gasps of the clustered chorus. For hour after hour, they attacked and feinted, Using all their power, skill and technique, Nothing could keep them from a stalemate; The warriors watered and slightly rested. The search for the coup de grâce went on, Until both men fell, in dusty exhaustion, Each raised a finger, in joint submission, Equals on death's stage yielded in unison. Titus faced a dilemma; mercy or consistency? Please the crowd, but make them aware, Of his Damoclean life-and-death sword, Over every Roman and slave in the empire. Titus cleaved the Rudis into a dual solution; Unable to beat the other, both won and lived, Limping, scarred heroes of baying masses, None had ever seen a myth form before them. It was Romulus fighting Remus in extremis, Herculean labours of a sticky, lethal afternoon, In the end, nothing could separate these brothers; Victors united as Castor and Pollux in Gemini. For life and limb on Rome's vast stage, Symbiotic compensation of adulation's rage. Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved

acknowledge the grief monsters who have weighed me down like a heavy, wet overcoat. They are here to stay, but I need to make them my allies, more fluffy and less fierce while they stick by my side for the rest of my life. I need to train them to sit with me quietly so they don't take over conversations, situations, or me when I am alone.

I'd be happy with just a holiday by myself," says Friend Number Two.  "Just to go and remember who I am again. Do you ever feel you've forgotten who you are?

No one told us hitting midlife would be so bloody hard!" says my old school pal, Friend Number One. "I mean, as if we haven't been through enough and then we are hit with peri menopause, menopause, medical stuff, kids turning into humans with their own brains, divorce, work burnout, parents getting old and sometimes dying–very inconsiderate of them.

It is perhaps noteworthy that the divine twins also frequently seem to be associated with animal-totem traditions. That’s not surprising, because many Indo-European cultures have a myth about the divine twins founding a city, tribe, or dynasty. Thus, for instance, the Saxons traced their descent back to the two brothers Hengist and Horsa (whose names literally mean “Horse and Stallion”). They also had a sister named “Swana” (Swan).43 For the Romans, the mythic founders of Rome were Romulus and Remus. The Kings of Sparta traced their royal line directly back to the Dioscuri. In fact, the divine horseman twins of ancient Greece were the tutelary deities of the Spartan Kings.

Cain—like his fellow fratricide, Romulus—founded a city, and some of his descendants were the ancestors of men practicing various arts: the city and the arts, so alien to man’s original simplicity, owe their origin to Cain and his race rather than to Seth, the substitute for Abel, and his race. It goes without saying that this is not the last word of the Bible on the city and the arts but it is its first word, just as the prohibition against eating of the tree of knowledge is, one may say, its first word simply, and the revelation of the Torah—i.e., the highest kind of knowledge of good and evil that is vouchsafed to men—is its last word.

Anam Cara is when two souls bond and intermingle," I say. "Soul mates?" says Jenn, scooping up a second helping of spelt salad. "Not really," says Gloria. "It is above a sexual or romantic connection of souls. Anam is the word you could translate into 'soul' and 'cara' means friend so it is more 'soul friend'. But for a person to make this genuine bond with another,

Jesus is just one among many folktales claiming resurrection from the dead or people taken to heaven. Such tales abound in various ancient cultures; examples include tales concerning Osiris, Romulus, and Asclepius (Carrier 2009, pp. 87–88). In the Buddhist tradition the sixth-century monk Bodhidharma was said to have been seen carrying his sandals and walking home after he died and was buried, and when his disciples opened up his grave the body was supposed to be missing. Additionally, there are various similarities (virgin birth, resurrection, etc.) between the stories of Jesus and the deities of other religions such as Mitra, Krishna, etc., even though these religions affirm different theologies from Christianity.

Concerning non-historical (or chiefly mythical) persons who were reportedly apotheosized or raised from the dead (e.g. Osiris [see Chapter 1], Romulus, Asclepius, Mitra, and Krishna), Habermas (1989) notes, in each of these cases we find numerous problems such as a decided lack of historical data, reports that are far too late (e.g. Ovid and Livy wrote about 700 years after Romulus was supposed to have lived) or stories about mythical personages who never lived.

This morning, I went past the Mons Palatinus,” said Karl one evening as they sat together over bread, olives, and cheese. “There, some commoners still pray to Romulus and Remus.” He shook his head. “Allegedly, there are remains of a cave where the two brothers were nursed by a she-wolf. What a ridiculous notion!” “Really?” Johann smiled. “Weren’t those brothers abandoned as infants and washed ashore in a willow basket on the banks of the Tiber? And didn’t Romulus kill his brother later on before founding Rome?” “Yes, I think that’s how the story goes.” Karl frowned. “Why?” “Well, Moses was also abandoned in a willow basket on a river, and Cain killed his brother, Abel. So, the one story is a ridiculous notion while the other is true belief? Where is the difference?” “Debating with you is probably more exhausting than debating that Luther.” “I’m not debating, merely posing questions,” replied Johann. “Just like the Greek philosopher Socrates used to do. Questions bring light to the darkness of the world.

Romulus approached the nearest slave and held a dagger to the man’s throat. “Rome or Hades?” he asked. The slave, a middle-aged man with a silver-streaked beard, cautiously lowered himself to the ground, setting his dagger at the king’s feet. “Rome,” he said. The other slaves followed suit.

Tarpeia patted his chest. She remembered something Rhea had said to Romulus only days before he had killed Remus: A strong king must have a strong stomach. It made her feel a pang of sadness for her husband, sadness for the weight of it all.

the mythical mother of the twins Romulus and Remus.

The Palatine Hill was the one associated by the later Romans with the legend of Romulus,