“I am a disciple of the philosopher Dionysus, and I would prefer to be even a satyr than a saint.”

“I am not a fiction reader. If I already do, I read fiction always more like the illustration of a philosophical-political thesis than a novel. My preference is history. If one does not know history, he is condemned to relive it.”

“The god of wine looked around at the assembled crowd. “Miss me?”The satyrs fell over themselves nodding and bowing. “Oh, yes, very much, sire!”“Well, I did not miss this place!” Dionysus snapped. “I bear bad news, my friends. Evil news. The minor gods are changing sides. Morpheus has gone over to the enemy. Hecate, Janus, and Nemesis, as well. Zeus knows how many more.”Thunder rumbled in the distance.“Strike that,” Dionysus said. “Even Zeus doesn’t know.”

“Hello!” The girl in the blood-red dress beamed at Leo. “Are you Dionysus?”There was only one answer to that.“Yes!” Leo yelped. “Absolutely. I am Dionysus.”

“Yeah, I am crazy. Ok. May be I am. But I prefer to be crazy than being a dummy.”

“I would rather be a conscious wrongdoer than a mindless saint.”