You were born for greatness; believe it. Know it. Take it from the tears of the poets.

It was like she’d reconnected with a strength she had forgotten she possessed. Her heart beat like wings in her chest.

We are still permanently trapped somewhere between the heroic and the pitiful. We are still godly; that’s what makes us so monstrous.

But his supermen abandoned him, the shock of it anchored him, he couldn’t move a muscle – he felt like he was dreaming, found himself weeping to the sounds of her shrieking but unable to move he was stood there, invisible and useless as Glory burned brighter than any one of Zeus’s daughters, the fight in her eyes was inspiring. He saw her, the quie

I am speaking of those who cannot tolerate the loss of myth and who can neither find a way to a merely exterior world, to the world as seen by science, nor rest satisfied with an intellectual juggling with words, which has nothing whatsoever to do with wisdom.

The Gods are waking up and reaching for their partners, the gods are raising kids doing PhDs and Masters. The gods are having physio, learning how to walk after a fall, the gods are feeling miserable and they don’t know who to call, the gods are lying on the floor feeling far away and worthless, the gods have forgotten that they’re gods, that they’

punch-happy fists, sad eyes – but between them was decency, between them a bond, a shared weakness that made them both strong. If you see them, hoods up, prowling the pavement at night you’ll walk quickly away, skin prickling with terror but they know love, though, and they know laughter, know each other as brother, friend, father. Equals. Gods in

We are ancient, brand new, basic and far beyond making ourselves into nothing; we need to recognize we’re something, and that we can be the gods we were born to be through loving.

Clive was close to her, one hand on her shoulder, the other opening his flies, she felt the fury rise, stared straight into his eyes; he couldn’t meet her gaze but she wouldn’t look away.