That love, which is the highest joy, which is divine simplicity itself, is not for you moderns, you children of reflection. It works only evil in you. As soon as you wish to be natural, you becomecommon. To you nature seems something hostile; you have made devils out of the smiling gods of Greece, and out of me a demon. You can only exorcise and curse me, or slay yourselves in bacchantic madness before my altar. And if ever one of you has had the courage to kiss my red mouth, he makes a barefoot pilgrimage to Rome in penitential robes and expects flowers to grow from his withered staff, while under my feet roses, violets, and myrtles spring up every hour, but their fragrance does not agree with you. Stay among your northern fogs and Christian incense; let us pagans remain under the debris, beneath the lava; do not disinter us.

He looked like an evil male model, showing off what the fashionable college-age villain was wearing to Harvard this year.

I have brought you a hero__ fate, and a hero__ fate is never happy. It is never anything but tragic.

No one should know his entire fate. It's too dangerous and too depressing. Just keep going, do your best, and hope it's good enough. That's all any of us can do.

Strange things conspire when one tries to cheat fate

Jason decided there was nothing in the world scarier than a gang of bat-wielding grannies.