Quotes about Epic
God creates history, while people create an epic or a drama, drawn either from God's history or from unreality and pure fiction.
— Abraham Kuyper
The Psalter forms the great epic poem of the creator and covenant God who will at the last visit and redeem his people and, with them, his whole creation.
— NT Wright
Their rising all at once was as the sound Of thunder heard remote.
— John Milton
If you're going to have a story, have a big story, or none at all.
— Joseph Campbell
Marriage, which has been the bourne of so many narratives, is still a great beginning, as it was to Adam and Eve, who kept their honey-moon in Eden, but had their first little one among the thorns and thistles of the wilderness. It is still the beginning of the home epic - the gradual conquest or irremediable loss of that complete union which make the advancing years a climax, and age the harvest of sweet memories in common.
— George Eliot
I think, in the grand epic, Jesus is the hero of our stories. And our stories, as they were, are subplots in a grand epic and our job is not to be the hero of any story. Our job is to be a saint in a story that he is telling.
— Donald Miller
To believe in the heroic makes heroes.
— Benjamin Disraeli
If you are going to have a story, have a big story, or none at all.
— Joseph Campbell
Wouldn't it help you to realize that you really do live in an epic if your life had a soundtrack?
— John Eldredge
We can either choose to cling to starring roles in the little-bitty stories of us or opt to exchange our fleeting moment in the spotlight for a supporting role in the eternally beautiful epic that is the Story of God. I
— Louie Giglio
The drama is complete poetry. The ode and the epic contain it only in germ; it contains both of them in a state of high development, and epitomizes both.
— Victor Hugo
Like a long sighing of wind in trees it begins, then they sweep into sight, borne now upon a cloud of phantom dust. They rush past, forwardleaning in the saddles, with brandished arms, beneath whipping ribbons from slanted and eager lances; with tumult and soundless yelling they sweep past like a tide whose crest is jagged with the wild heads of horses and the brandished arms of men like the crater of the world in explosion.
— William Faulkner