Quotes about underworld

Let’s train ourselves to not hate each other we all come from the same consciousness in the mind.

Right," she said, "We're going to the Land of the Dead and I shouldn't think negative.

Each of us has his own way of emerging from the underworld, mine is by writing. That's why the only way I can keep going, if at all, is by writing, not through rest and sleep. I am far more likely to achieve peace of mind through writing than the capacity to write through peace.

They were wrong about the sun.It does not go down into the underworld at night.The sun leaves merelyand the underworld emerges.It can happen at any moment.It can happen in the morning,you in the kitchen going throughyour mild routines.Plate, cup, knife.All at once there’s no blue, no green,no warning.

And you can glance out the window for a moment, distracted by the sound of small kids playing a made-up game in a neighbor's yard, some kind of kickball maybe, and they speak in your voice, or piggyback races on the weedy lawn, and it's your voice you hear, essentially, under the glimmerglass sky, and you look at the things in the room, offscreen, unwebbed, the tissued grain of the deskwood alive in light, the thick lived tenor of things, the argument of things to be seen and eaten, the apple co

If he slept, he dreamt of the woman with the icy white irises. She exploded planes, swallowed oceans and crumpled skiesin her palm in his dreams. Sometimes she and the green-eyed girl were one. At other times, the green-eyed girl was alone, a gaping hole where her heart should have been. At all times he could hear the woman’s cold, low laughter. It swept across his consciousness like a hailstorm.When he woke up, he thought he was going mad.

She was tasked with guarding the doorway to the Otherworld, keeping the balance of nature (as much as anyone could in these modern times), and occasionally, helping a worthy seeker.

How language is webbed in the senses. Out of sand-blazed brilliance into quirky minds such as his, into touch, taste and fragrance. He thought he'd linger just a bit longer, let the bath take total hold, ease and alleviate, before he put on clothes and entered the complex boxes where people do their living.Nothing fits the body so well as water.

What the myth founds is a double existence between the upper world and the underworld: a dimension of death is introduced into life, and a dimension of life is introduced into death.

Can you please tell me who you people are?""Criminals. Offenders. Monsters. We've all been imprisoned in Tartarus for discretions committed against the gods of Olympus."~ Hope/Daedalus, The River Styx

When Jill woke next morning and found herself in a cave, she thought for one horrid moment that she was back in the Underworld.

Welcome to Irkalla, the Land of the Dead,” the woman said. “I am Ereshkigal, Queen of the Underworld.

Enjoying your Christmas in the land of the dead? Fun and different, right?

Not very smart," Chudo-Yudo growled. "Stalking a Baba Yaga." He showed a set of sharp white teeth. "Maybe he has a death wish. I could help with that You want me to eat him?

Keep climbing,' he told himself.'Cheeseburgers,' his stomach replied.'Shut up,' he thought.'With fries,' his stomach complained.

Christmas in the Underworld was NOT my idea. If I'd known what was coming, I would've called in sick. I could've avoided an army of demons, a fight with a Titan, and a trick that almost got my friends and me cast into eternal darkness. But no, I had to take my stupid English exam.

Doors vurst open all along the walls, and skeletal warriors marched in, hundreds of them, from every time period and nation in Western civilization. They lined the perimeter of the room, blocking the exits.Hades bellowed, "Do you think I want war godling?"I wanted to say, 'Well, these guys don't look like peace activists'. But I thought that might be a dangerous answer.

I looked into those eyes and I saw nothing. It was like staring straight into the Underworld. Like he aches to return to where he came from.

In response to a tactless question he once said to me, ‘What do you expect? This lousy neighbourhood gave me the come-on. I couldn’t resist.

It’s splendid how much at home we feel at Pignol’s. A tacit complicity at every moment prevails among the regulars here. A process of self-selection operates: starving crooks, thirsty whores, witless grasses working for low-grade cops, middle- class types a bit too willing to conform (leaving aside the pound of black-market meat and the camembert without ration tickets) - all feel too ill at ease here. They’ve only got to stay away. Along with anyone else who doesn’t meet the requirements of thi

You're the measure of my true decline. Your home isn't in the underworld, you live in the back room of the liquor store. My eternally hung-over angel, my Satan crawling like an amber worm from a bottle of Zoladkowa Gorzka.

The Underworld had no mercy. It only had justice

Please!’ That word didn’t make sense to Nico. The Underworld had no mercy. It only had justice. ‘You’re already dead,’ Nico said. ‘You’re a ghost with no tongue, no memory. You won’t be sharing any secrets.

We all have so many functions, so many ways of existing. In my own vision of myself, I am a scholar who lives quietly, and pens his little tales, and dreams about a past that may or may not have existed. And that is true, as far as it goes. But I am also, in one of my capacities, like so many of the people you have chosen to associate with, a psychopomp. I escort the living to the world of the dead.

But if you take off your clothes, I’m sure I can get them dry.”My eyes went wide. “Are you trying tog et my naked?”His silvery gaze met mine. “Do you really need me to answer that?”A hot, sweet flush stole across my cheeks. When he was like this—open, flirty, and downright sexy—I was at my lamest. I wasn’t used to this side of him. I don’t think I ever would be, and there was something thrilling in that. But I stared at him, caught between the images playing out in my head and the very real man

Aren’t all fairy tales based in fact? You yourself are supposed to be nothing more than a myth.Pandora’s box is a story parents read to their children at night,” she countered. “That means life itself is afairy tale. Like the characters, we all live and love and search for a happily-ever-after.

Cat knew she'd arrived in Gaia's realm once she saw the Tree of Life, the foundation for all that was above and below.... The Tree of Life, no matter what religion one embraced, was a symbol of consanguinity. It was the universal representation of all that exists. Its network of connections matched that of a forest of aspen trees. Everything was interconnected and all of the roots led back to one source - the creators of all life.

Cat's brows shot up as Lucas slid the plate across the counter. "I'm impressed. I wouldn't have assumed you ate real food much less cooked it," she teased. "I'm curious, what did you think I ate?" he asked as he grabbed a fork and a knife for her. She smiled. "I don't know, bats... small critters you happen upon in the underworld." Lucas handed her a napkin. "Nah, bats don't really have that much meat on them," he retorted with a grin of his own.

The underworld was made up of many different regions. Each area was its own private sector and not everyone who resided here was malevolent. Some beings here were virtuous, while others had yet to decide what they were - their fates having yet to be decided. Not all dark creatures were evil, just as not all light creatures were moral. Corbin and Quentin were the epitome of that dichotomy.

Live your life. The reset button has been pushed.

She'd created her own hell, and now that she had learned to control her fear, she knew how to create her own paradise.

He spoke!" Ivan said, eyes wide. "The dog talked! Oh my god." "An ancient witch you can believe in, but not a talking dragon that looks like a dog?" Chudo-Yudo said, sounding slightly piqued. "Hmph. Young people today have such limited imaginations.

You're the Baba Yaga?" He gazed at her in disbelief. "But the Baba Yaga is an ugly old crone, and you're, you're... not!

Something tells me this isn't going to end well for everyone involved. Someone may get turned into a frog yet." And that was the good news.

Hmm," she said. "'Curiouser and curiouser,' to quote Alice.

You are such a drama llama!" she shouted at her mother. The redhead blinked. "It's drama queen, dear." "No, it's llama...

Drake, her sexy mate, just lifted a big shoulder. "Bo clearly does not know how to act around his female. Once he figures out how to, they will be mated soon." "No doubt," Finn murmured.

A woman's body is the gate to this life. A man's body is the gate to the next life.