Gladiators Quotes

“This is a forum for readers. Authors walk these halls at their own risk. I’ve been to the Coliseum in Rome. GR is just that. Books are gladiators. Readers are ravenous citizens awaiting their next bite of entertainment, all Caesars with thumbs readied for judgement. Even champions fall prey to sword now and then. And you know what they say about the pen and the sword…the analogy is a bit muddled, but it’s in there somewhere.”
― Willow Madison

“Summer queens are fine and fair, with pretty ribbons and flowers in their hair. Winter queens are cold and hard, with frosted crowns made of icy shards.”
― Jennifer Estep, Kill the Queen

“You have to survive, no matter what you have to do, no matter who you have to cheat and hurt and kill, no matter what the cost is to your heart and soul. Do you hear me, Everleigh? You have to live.”
― Jennifer Estep, Kill the Queen

“BLOODY LIPS

The bloody wound
Of the gladiator
Gurgles out life's end.

The cries of acclimations from the stands
Fill the sky with raging tigers.

Waving their arms about to incite the masses
The aging notables add an air of dignity to the arena.
Making their separate entries
they
K
N
E
E
L
over the still-warm corpses
Of the young. Their withered lips they pose
Upon the fresh flowing wounds
And, to prolong their lives – so they believe,
Suck, ravenously suck out the blood, blood, blood.

Fresh blood from the sun
Flowing into filthy veins
As into sewage pipes,

And thus the Heart of the Nation is abandoned.”
― Visar Zhiti, The Condemned Apple: Selected Poetry

“Someone always wanted to kill the queen.”
― Jennifer Estep, Kill the Queen

“A woman is dead. I would hardly call that progress."

"Sure it is," she replied. "Especially since you're not the one who's dead."

I couldn't argue with that.”
― Jennifer Estep, Kill the Queen

“Traitors always pay for their sins," I hissed.”
― Jennifer Estep, Kill the Queen

“The queen was dead.
Again.”
― Jennifer Estep, Kill the Queen

“Two blue men the size of football players walking through a store wrapped in Roman gladiator armor was bound to attract attention.”
― Missy Lyons, Alien Promise

“You can’t walk around here half naked in Roman warrior costumes or every woman in a fifty-mile radius will be on you like flies on honey.”
― Missy Lyons, Alien Promise

“I'm scanning the sky for doo-doo missiles, when there's a bloodcurdling scream. An ugly thing with a human body, ears like a rabbit and a face so grotesque it would make gladiators wet their pants leaps off the roof of the houseboat. It lands right in front of me.”
― J.E. Fison, Snake Surprise!

“Il mondo è come un'arena di gladiatori, in cui la vita lotta contro se stessa.”
― Seneca, Of Anger

“Where All Roads Lead by Stewart Stafford

As I journeyed toward Rome,
On the dusty road, I passed,
Beggars, lepers, soothsayers,
And dogs foaming at the mouth.

Through the fresh mountain pass,
Then the long descending road,
Temperature rising with each step,
Anticipation grew with the heat.

Class of companion changed,
Upon nearing the city of cities,
I heard talk of gladiators, and,
Barges of Venuses on the Tiber.

Thunder and before my eyes,
Stood a vision of distant Rome,
The curve of the Colosseum,
Teeming humanity to and fro.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Opposites Attack by Stewart Stafford

Winter's eagle talons swoop,
Scratching sweet faces raw,
As battering waves file back,
The coast's jagged teeth further.

Concerts of hedgerow angels,
Storm the dreaded demon field,
Dispensing ancient retribution,
Righting wrongs along the way.

Gladiatorial combat in the Heavens,
Lightning's fiery net crashes against,
Thunder's convulsing cloaking shield,
And the rainstorm's flogging garlands.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Blood & Sand by Stewart Stafford

Enduring to be burned, bound, beaten,
And to die by the sword if necessary;
Verus and Priscus entered the arena,
To stain Colosseum sand with blood.

Emperor Titus drained Nero's lake,
Built the vast Flavian Amphitheatre,
Panacea to the idle citizens of Rome,
Symbol of his beneficence and might.

Priscus, far from his Germanian home,
Fighting within a symbol of Rome's power,
Which ravaged his life and fatherland,
For them to decide if he is free or dies.

Verus, the hulking, bullish Murmillo;
Trained to deliver heavy punishment,
Priscus - lightly-armed, agile Thracian;
Primed to avoid his rival's huge blows.

Titus showed he was Nero's antithesis;
No hoarding of tracts of primo Roma,
In a profligate orgy of narcissistic pride,
Nor taking his own life to escape execution.

Domitian, the brother of Titus, watched in envy,
The emperor-in-waiting who favoured Verus,
And the direct Murmillo style of fighting,
Titus favoured Thracian counter-punching.

Aware of the patriarchal fraternity's preferences,
The gathering looked on in fascinated awe,
As their champions of champions clashed,
Deciding who was the greatest gladiator of all.

Titus had stated there would be no draw;
One would win, and one would perish,
A rudis freedom staff the survivor's trophy,
Out the Porta Sanavivaria - the Gate of Life.

One well aware of the other, combat began,
Scared eyes locked behind helmeted grilles,
Grunts and sweat behind shield and steel,
Roars and gasps of the clustered chorus.

For hour after hour, they attacked and feinted,
Using all their power, skill and technique,
Nothing could keep them from a stalemate;
The warriors watered and slightly rested.

The search for the coup de grâce went on,
Until both men fell, in dusty exhaustion,
Each raised a finger, in joint submission,
Equals on death's stage yielded in unison.

Titus faced a dilemma; mercy or consistency?
Please the crowd, but make them aware,
Of his Damoclean life-and-death sword,
Over every Roman and slave in the empire.

Titus cleaved the Rudis into a dual solution;
Unable to beat the other, both won and lived,
Limping, scarred heroes of baying masses,
None had ever seen a myth form before them.

It was Romulus fighting Remus in extremis,
Herculean labours of a sticky, lethal afternoon,
In the end, nothing could separate these brothers;
Victors united as Castor and Pollux in Gemini.

For life and limb on Rome's vast stage,
Symbiotic compensation of adulation's rage.

Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved”
― Stewart Stafford