“I know precisely what honor is, Heracles. Honor is the artifice kings sell the peasants’ sons so that they may fight and die without pay. Honor is what drives a peaceful man to bloody vengeance. Honor is what drove the Celts to behead the children of the Apache Courts.”
Bes“I know precisely what honor is, Heracles. Honor is the artifice kings sell the peasants’ sons so that they may fight and die without pay. Honor is what drives a peaceful man to bloody vengeance. Honor is what drove the Celts to behead the children of the Apache Courts.”
Bes“I know precisely what honor is, Heracles. Honor is the artifice kings sell the peasants’ sons so that they may fight and die without pay. Honor is what drives a peaceful man to bloody vengeance. Honor is what drove the Celts to behead the children of the Apache Courts.- The Egyptian God Bes”
Jonathan Maas, City of Gods: Hellenica“I know precisely what honor is, Heracles. Honor is the artifice kings sell the peasants’ sons so that they may fight and die without pay. Honor is what drives a peaceful man to bloody vengeance. Honor is what drove the Celts to behead the children of the Apache Courts.- (The Egyptian God) Bes”
Jonathan Maas, City of Gods: Hellenica“Ey binamaz diye beni haktan uzak görenSığmaz senin hayaline mihrab-ı minberim Sen sade beş vakitte ararsın ilahını,Ben her zaman onunla emin ol beraberim.”
İpek Çalışlar, Halide Edib“The bed we loved in was a spinning world of forests, castles, torchlight, clifftops, seaswhere we would dive for pearls. My lover’s wordswere shooting stars which fell to earth as kisseson these lips; my body now a softer rhymeto his, now echo, assonance; his toucha verb dancing in the centre of a noun.Some nights, I dreamed he’d written me, the beda page beneath his writer’s hands. Romanceand drama played by touch, by scent, by taste.In the other bed, the best, our guests dozed on,dribbling their prose. My living laughing love -I hold him in the casket of my widow’s headas he held me upon that next bes”
Carol Ann Duffy, The World's Wife“Indeed a lie is often more plausible than the truth. "Almost" always. The truth, of course, is never very plausible.”
Fyodor Sologub, Little Demon (Literary Monuments) / Melkiy Bes