Womankind Is ever a fickle and a changeful thing.
Well, the day has come when a woman’s weapons prove your daydreams wrong! Still, you carry no mean fame to your fathers’ shades – just tell them this: You died by Camilla’s spear!
Troy has fallen – and fallen let her stay – with the very name of Troy!
When, soon, they join in their happy wedding-bonds – and wedded let them be – in pacts of peace at last, never command the Latins, here on native soil, to exchange their age-old name, to become Trojans, called the kin of Teucer, alter their language, change their style of dress. Let Latium endure.
Decked in the spoils you stripped from one I loved – escape my clutches? Never – Pallas strikes this blow, Pallas sacrifices you now, makes you pay the price with your own guilty blood!
Quicquid id est, timeo Danaos et dona ferentis.
If I cannot bend the will of Heaven, I shall move hell.
Degeneres animos timor arguit:.
O fortunati, quorum iam moenia surgunt!
The one safety for the defeated is to have no hope of safety.
Quis furor iste novus?
En haec promissa fides est?
All human happiness, on analysis, is an act of profanation.
I figured out that I’m better off not explaining how and why I do the things that I do. If people can only read the surface of what you are, and that’s all they want to see, let them see just what they need to see. Everything more is just something to keep and share only with the people that desire and are ready to receive that information. Words wasted on ears that do not listen and eyes that do not see are just seeds thrown on rocky ground. Prepare your ground first and then ask for the seeds.
The moment you realize that no matter how far away in the sea you look for the love you desire, it is impossible for you to reach it without exploring the deepness within, then you will either walk on the surface or sink deeply. The light will guide you nevertheless.
The warmth of summer, the richness of expansion that creates the perfect environment for a body that wants to feel at least the illusion of warmth on top of its’ old persevering soul that dwells within. This season, I no longer try to reach for that external warmth, but rather pray to find that spark that could light me up from deep inside. I trust my intuition and I know it is near, if only my eyes wouldn’t be blinded by the sun.
The Fall, a time when the illusion of the Maya fades away, a freedom from the identification with the illusory persona. For as the trees let go of their leaves to embrace the new season each year, there is no need to fight the shadows that form the illusion or the masks that form our egoic personas, but rather enjoy the illusion for what it is and find the freedom to accept and play a role outside of identification.
The friend of my heart.
Absumptae in Teucros vires caelique marisque.
Rumor, swiftest of all the evils in the world. She thrives on speed, stronger for every stride, slight with fear at first, soon soaring into the air she treads the ground and hides her head in the clouds.
Paeoniis revocatum herbis et amore Dianae.