Troy Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
i-hugged-troy-i-dont-think-ive-ever-touched-troy-in-my-entire-life-kelly-taylor
troy-sat-down-next-to-sherri-examining-her-tray-are-you-going-to-eat-that-he-asked-i-know-what-went-in-there-he-smiled-looking-mysterious-troys-mother-worked-in-cafeteria-sherri-
why-what-could-she-have-done-being-what-she-is-was-there-another-troy-for-her-to-burn-william-butler-yeats
youre-not-seriously-going-troy-asks-of-course-im-going-i-say-what-other-choice-do-i-have-um-not-going-tera-lynn-childs
why-kill-you-now-prince-of-troy-with-noone-here-to-see-you-fall
hed-be-option-id-love-to-see-troy-get-it-going-with-all-that-speed-mike-tice
helen-troy-hooker-from-upstate-new-york-never-got-dinner-red-buttons
when-my-senior-prom-was-happening-i-was-in-malta-filming-troy
when-my-senior-prom-was-happening-i-was-in-malta-filming-troy-garrett-hedlund
princes-of-troy-on-our-last-night-together-queen-helen-and-i-salute-you
what-helen-troy-did-in-her-spare-time-what-she-was-really-like-are-not-questions-that-torture-us-janet-malcolm
i-think-helen-troy-must-have-been-pretty-hot-she-got-two-countries-going-crazy-for-10-years-over-her-colin-quinn
idiosyncrasy-vicissitude-had-combined-to-stamp-sergeant-troy-as-exceptional-being-thomas-hardy
the-ugliest-man-was-he-who-came-to-troy-with-squinting-eyes-one-distorted-foot-homer
in-eternity-this-world-will-be-like-troy-i-believe-all-that-has-passed-here-will-be-epic-universe-ballad-they-sing-in-streets-marilynne-robinson
you-cannot-give-good-teams-like-troy-26-27-outs-these-guys-are-all-hard-workers-they-all-love-game-brian-gordon
let-me-tell-you-alex-hes-crook-hes-based-here-in-miami-hes-nasty-piece-work-hes-mexican-troy-added-anthony-horowitz
this-supreme-instance-troys-goodness-fell-upon-gabriels-ears-like-thirteenth-stroke-crazy-clock-thomas-hardy
you-have-something-important-to-add-you-interrupt-exciting-conversation-already-in-progress-just-to-let-us-know-you-have-nothing-to-contribute-to-discussion-umm-troy-ragland-troy
each-book-holds-experience-adventure-letters-note-troy-mi-usa-public-library-1971-neil-armstrong
troy-was-sweet-good-man-we-just-were-never-destined-to-be-married-we-just-didnt-have-same-values-but-im-not-bitter-he-taught-me-how-to-laugh
move-over-helen-troy-jenny-trout-is-going-to-wage-war-on-good-health-fit-bodies
i-love-cowboys-in-early-90s-that-was-their-heyday-winning-all-those-super-bowls-troy-aikman-was-person-i-looked-up-to-drew-brees
and-there-they-ring-walls-young-lithe-the-handsome-hold-graves-they-won-in-troy-enemy-earth-rides-over-those-who-conquered-aeschylus
powerful-women-are-either-sexually-voracious-rulers-like-catherine-the-great-or-elizabeth-i-or-treacherous-bitches-like-cleopatra-or-helen-of-troy
i-saw-fall-troy-world-war-five-i-was-pushing-boxes-at-boston-tea-party-now-im-gonna-die-in-dungeon-disgustedly-in-cardiff-russell-t-davies
oh-troy-hes-no-one-he-wanted-something-more-from-me-than-i-could-give-friends-with-benefits-laurie-asked-blushing-as-he-said-it-more-like-frenemies-with-benefits-leslea-tash
troy-is-based-on-epic-poem-the-iliad-by-homer-according-to-credits-homers-estate-should-sue-roger-ebert
personally-i-was-never-the-cool-kid-i-was-always-sort-of-a-bookworm-i-would-just-like-to-be-more-like-troy-because-hes-so-cool
life-is-not-to-be-bought-with-heaps-gold-not-all-apollos-pythian-treasures-hold-or-troy-once-held-in-peace-pride-sway-can-bribe-poor-possession-homer
i-wanted-to-kiss-you-for-long-time-i-decided-that-might-be-my-only-chance-ive-been-miserable-ever-since-troy-ran-his-fingers-along-her-jaw-it-was-almost-better-when-i-didnt-know-
who-dreamed-that-beauty-passes-like-dreamfor-these-red-lips-with-all-their-mournful-pridemournful-that-no-new-wonder-may-betidetroy-passed-away-in-william-butler-yeats
i-loved-kiss-thats-why-i-smiled-at-you-i-loved-it-i-was-embarrassed-by-how-much-i-loved-it-troy-summer-suzanne-selfors
i-cant-write-my-life-story-without-emmitt-troy-they-cant-write-their-life-stories-without-me-were-tied-together-forever-this-is-day-to-remember-for-rest-our-lives-michael-irvin
on-this-twitter-thing-at-least-five-people-day-say-bring-back-mullet-my-wife-told-me-im-not-allowed-troy-tulowitzki-wants-me-to-grow-rat-tail-for-his-charity-i-was-like-what-heck
I'd like you to come to Kauai with me, ' I say. 'And Scottie. I think it would be good to get her away from the hospital for a day. We can leave in the morning, find him, and be home tomorrow night. If it takes us a day longer, that's fine, but we won't stay more than two nights. That's our deadline. If we don't find him, then at least we know we tried.' 'And this will make you feel better somehow?' 'It's for her, ' I say. 'Not for him or me.' 'What if he's a wreck? What if he loses his shit?' 'Then I'll take care of him.' I imagine Brian Speer wailing on my shoulder. I imagine him and my daughters by Joanie's bed, her lover and his loud sobs shaming us. 'Just so you know, I am angry. I'm not this pure and noble guy. I want to do this for her, but I also want to see who he is. I want to ask him a few things.' 'Just call him. Tell his office it's an emergency. They'll have him call you.' 'I want to tell him in person. I haven't told anyone over the phone, and I don't want to start now.' 'You told Troy.' 'Troy doesn't count. I just need to do this. On the phone he can escape. If I see him in person, he'll have nowhere to go.' We both look away when our eyes meet. She hasn't crossed the border into my room. She never does during her nighttime doorway chats. 'Were you guys having trouble?' Alex asks. 'Is that why she cheated?' 'I didn't think we were having trouble, ' I say. 'I mean, it was the same as always.' This was the problem, that our marriage was the same as always. Joanie needed bumps. She needed rough terrain. It's funny that I can get lost in thoughts about her, but when she was right in front of me, I didn't think much about her at all. 'I wasn't the best husband, ' I say. Alex looks out the window to avoid my confession. 'If we go on this trip, what will we tell Scottie?' 'She'll think we're going on a trip of some sort. I want to get her away from here.

Kaui Hart Hemmings
id-like-you-to-come-to-kauai-with-me-i-say-and-scottie-i-think-it-would-be-good-to-get-her-away-from-hospital-for-day-we-can-leave-in-morning-find-him-be-home-tomorrow-night-if-i
i-love-artists-whose-work-feels-animated-matt-cummings-ian-mcginty-jake-myler-arielle-jovellanos-drew-rausch-zachary-sterling-troy-little-i-feel-like-most-artists-ive-worked-with
All the great groups that stood about the Cross represent in one way or another the great historical truth of the time; that the world could not save itself. Man could do no more. Rome and Jerusalem and Athens and everything else were going down like a sea turned into a slow cataract. Externally indeed the ancient world was still at its strongest; it is always at that moment that the inmost weakness begins. But in order to understand that weakness we must repeat what has been said more than once; that it was not the weakness of a thing originally weak. It was emphatically the strength of the world that was turned to weakness and the wisdom of the world that was turned to folly. In this story of Good Friday it is the best things in the world that are at their worst. That is what really shows us the world at its worst. It was, for instance, the priests of a true monotheism and the soldiers of an international civilisation. Rome, the legend, founded upon fallen Troy and triumphant over fallen Carthage, had stood for a heroism which was the nearest that any pagan ever came to chivalry. Rome had defended the household gods and the human decencies against the ogres of Africa and the hermaphrodite monstrosities of Greece. But in the lightning flash of this incident, we see great Rome, the imperial republic, going downward under her Lucretian doom. Scepticism has eaten away even the confident sanity of the conquerors of the world. He who is enthroned to say what is justice can only ask: 'What is truth?' So in that drama which decided the whole fate of antiquity, one of the central figures is fixed in what seems the reverse of his true role. Rome was almost another name for responsibility. Yet he stands for ever as a sort of rocking statue of the irresponsible. Man could do no more. Even the practical had become the impracticable. Standing between the pillars of his own judgement-seat, a Roman had washed his hands of the world.

G.K. Chesterton
all-great-groups-that-stood-about-cross-represent-in-one-way-another-great-historical-truth-time-that-world-could-not-save-itself-man-could-do-no-more-rome-jerusalem-athens-every
The art of fiction has not changed much since prehistoric times. The formula for telling a powerful story has remained the same: create a strong character, a person of great strengths, capable of deep emotions and decisive action. Give him a weakness. Set him in conflict with another powerful character - or perhaps with nature. Let his exterior conflict be the mirror of the protagonist's own interior conflict, the clash of his desires, his own strength against his own weakness. And there you have a story. Whether it's Abraham offering his only son to God, or Paris bringing ruin to Troy over a woman, or Hamlet and Claudius playing their deadly game, Faust seeking the world's knowledge and power - the stories that stand out in the minds of the reader are those whose characters are unforgettable. To show other worlds, to describe possible future societies and the problems lurking ahead, is not enough. The writer of science fiction must show how these worlds and these futures affect human beings. And something much more important: he must show how human beings can and do literally create these future worlds. For our future is largely in our own hands. It doesn't come blindly rolling out of the heavens; it is the joint product of the actions of billions of human beings. This is a point that's easily forgotten in the rush of headlines and the hectic badgering of everyday life. But it's a point that science fiction makes constantly: the future belongs to us - whatever it is. We make it, our actions shape tomorrow. We have the brains and guts to build paradise (or at least try). Tragedy is when we fail, and the greatest crime of all is when we fail even to try. Thus science fiction stands as a bridge between science and art, between the engineers of technology and the poets of humanity.

Ben Bova
the-art-fiction-has-not-changed-much-since-prehistoric-times-the-formula-for-telling-powerful-story-has-remained-same-create-strong-character-person-great-strengths-capable-deep-
Helen of Troy Does Counter Dancing The world is full of women who'd tell me I should be ashamed of myself if they had the chance. Quit dancing. Get some self-respect and a day job. Right. And minimum wage, and varicose veins, just standing in one place for eight hours behind a glass counter bundled up to the neck, instead of naked as a meat sandwich. Selling gloves, or something. Instead of what I do sell. You have to have talent to peddle a thing so nebulous and without material form. Exploited, they'd say. Yes, any way you cut it, but I've a choice of how, and I'll take the money. I do give value. Like preachers, I sell vision, like perfume ads, desire or its facsimile. Like jokes or war, it's all in the timing. I sell men back their worst suspicions: that everything's for sale, and piecemeal. They gaze at me and see a chain-saw murder just before it happens, when thigh, ass, inkblot, crevice, tit, and nipple are still connected. Such hatred leaps in them, my beery worshipers! That, or a bleary hopeless love. Seeing the rows of heads and upturned eyes, imploring but ready to snap at my ankles, I understand floods and earthquakes, and the urge to step on ants. I keep the beat, and dance for them because they can't. The music smells like foxes, crisp as heated metal searing the nostrils or humid as August, hazy and languorous as a looted city the day after, when all the rape's been done already, and the killing, and the survivors wander around looking for garbage to eat, and there's only a bleak exhaustion. Speaking of which, it's the smiling tires me out the most. This, and the pretense that I can't hear them. And I can't, because I'm after all a foreigner to them. The speech here is all warty gutturals, obvious as a slam of ham, but I come from the province of the gods where meaning are lilting and oblique. I don't let on to everyone, but lean close, and I'll whisper: My mothers was raped by a holy swan. You believe that? You can take me out to dinner. That's what we tell all the husbands. There sure are a lot of dangerous birds around. Not that anyone here but you would understand. The rest of them would like to watch me and feel nothing. Reduce me to components as in a clock factory or abattoir. Crush out the mystery. Wall me up alive in my own body. They'd like to see through me, but nothing is more opaque than absolute transparency. Look - my feet don't hit the marble! Like breath or a balloon, I'm rising, I hover six inches in the air in my blazing swan-egg of light. You think I'm not a goddess? Try me. This is a torch song. Touch me and you'll burn.

Margaret Atwood
helen-troy-does-counter-dancing-the-world-is-full-women-whod-tell-me-i-should-be-ashamed-myself-if-they-had-chance-quit-dancing-get-some-selfrespect-day-job-right-and-minimum-wag
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