Constantinople Quotes

“Being an Armenian is a merciless task and a heroic enterprise. It is a commandment, a mission, and a destiny that history has imposed on us from the depths of centuries. We are the shock troops of the struggle between light and darkness… And we are charged with an awesome responsibility. Gostan Zarian.”
― Keri Topouzian, A Perfect Armenian

“Do not tell me that it is not God-like to get angry or go into a fit of rage. God himself when enraged will grasp a star and hurl it through the heavens. And at night, you can see bits of the star flashing through the sky, fallen apart merely by the shear force of which it was thrown. Know when He is angry and stay out of His way… And the same holds true for my grandson.” Yervant Yacoubian.”
― Keri Topouzian, A Perfect Armenian

“Coming as a kind of pleasure-package with her parents and sisters, as a girl Theodora performed acrobatic tricks and erotic dances in and around the hippodrome – part of the fringe of shows, spectacles and penny theatricals that accompanied the games. It was said by contemporary chroniclers that one of Theodora’s most popular turns was a re-enactment of the story of Leda (the mother of Helen of Troy) and the Swan (Zeus in disguise). The Greek myth went that Zeus was so enraptured with Queen Leda when he espied her bathing by the banks of the River Eurotas that he turned himself into a swan so that he could ravish the Spartan Queen. Theodora, as Leda, would leave a trail of grain up on to (some said into) her body, which the ‘swan’ (in Constantinople in fact a goose) then eagerly consumed. The Empress’s detractors delighted in memorialising the fact that Theodora’s services were eagerly sought out for anal intercourse, as both an active and a passive partner. As a child and as an adolescent woman Theodora would have been considered dirt, but she was, physically, right at the heart of human affairs in a burgeoning city in interesting times.

Theodora was also, obviously, wildly attractive. Born in either Cyprus or Syria, as a teenager – already the mother of a young girl and with a history of abortions – she left Constantinople as the companion of a Syrian official, the governor of Libya Pentapolis. The two travelled to North Africa, where, after four years of maltreatment, she found herself abandoned by the Byzantine official, her meal-ticket revoked. A discarded mistress, on the road, was as wretched as things could get in the sixth century. (...)

Theodora tried to find her way back to the mother city, making ends meet as a prostitute, and the only people to give the twenty-year-old reject shelter were a group of Christians in the city of Alexandria. That random act of kindness was epoch-forming.”
― Bettany Hughes, Istanbul: A Tale of Three Cities

“On 1 April AD 527 the Illyrian soldier was officially named Justin’s successor. When Justinian was acclaimed emperor he made his way in through Constantinople’s Golden Gate, down the processional route of the Mese, bordered originally with those wide vegetable gardens – the stuff of life of the city – and then with canopied walkways and sculptures (canopies and shops are still here, selling everything from apple tea to diamond-studded handguns). The shouts of acclamation for Constantinople’s new ruler would have bounced off the marble colonnades and the bronze statuary lining the processional way. And one in the city in particular must have listened to this brouhaha with great pleasure. Three years before, a rather extraordinary woman had moved into Justinian’s palace apartments to share his bed, and just three days after his investiture Justinian and his new wife, his showgirl-bride Theodora, were crowned together as joint emperor and empress.

Enjoying a flurry of revived interest in the twenty-first century, Empress Theodora deserves every moment of her late-found fame. Now honoured as a saint by the Greek Orthodox Church, this player in Constantinople’s history has not been universally loved: ‘This degenerate woman [Theodora] was another Eve who heeded the serpent. She was a denizen of the Abyss and mistress of Demons. It was she who, drawn by a satanic spirit and roused by diabolic rage, spitefully overthrew a peace redeemed by the blood of martyrs,’ wrote Cardinal Baronius. Our most detailed source for Theodora’s life is a lascivious, spittle-flecked diatribe, a Secret History written by our key source for Justinian and Theodora’s reign, Procopius (Procopius would write both hagiographies and damnations of the imperial couple and their works). Clearly gorged with literary and rhetorical tropes, Procopius’ account has to be taken with a large amphora of salt – but many of the details ring true both for the age and as a backstory to the remarkable life of this girl from Constantinople.”
― Bettany Hughes, Istanbul: A Tale of Three Cities

“Constantinople est née du caprice d'un despote en proie à une intense exaltation religieuse. Et cependant peu d'actes politiques concertés ont eu des effets plus considérables et plus durable. Pendant une longue suite de siècles, un grand État a eu ses destinées attachées à cette ville. À mainte reprise Constantinople a refait l'Empire. La culture hellénique, antique et médiévale a été sauvé d'une destruction totale parce qu'elle a trouvé dans le Bosphore un asile inexpugnable. Rien de tout cela n'aurait été sans la volonté de Constantin. Mais était-ce cela qu'il voulait? Il ne semble pas.”
― Ferdinand Lot, La Fin du monde antique et le début du Moyen Âge

“And after the sack of Constantinople in 1204, we have few examples of any literary activity except by religious writers (who, like cockroaches, seem capable of surviving any catastrophe).”
― Steven Moore, The Novel: An Alternative History: Beginnings to 1600

“Nähtyäni osia Aasiasta ja Afrikasta ja kierrettyäni miltei koko Euroopan uskon, että rehellinen englantilainen heppu on muita onnellisempi, kun hän pitää kreikkalaisia viinejä vähemmän maukkaina kuin maaliskuussa pantua olutta, ajattelee etteivät afrikkalaiset hedelmät maistu yhtä hyviltä kuin kullankeltaiset pikkuomenat, uskoo naudan takaselästä leikatun pihvin olevan parempaa kuin Italian viikunoiden ja punnitsee muutenkin kaiken kaikkiaan ettei tästä elämästä voisi mitenkään nauttia vanhan kunnon Englannin ulkopuolella. Rukoilen Jumalaa, että ajattelisin itsekin samoin lopun elämääni, ja koska minun on tyydyttävä tämän maan suomaan viheliäiseen päivänvalon määrään toivon, että unohtaisin pian Konstantinopolin eloisan auringon.”
― Mary Wortley Montagu, Elämänmenoa Kultaisessa sarvessa