欧宝娱乐

“The gods preferring their libations diluted with rainwater and mixed with freshly cut grass.”
― Thomm Quackenbush, Pagan Standard Times: Essays on the Craft

“And how do you plan on appeasing the spirits of the dead if you do go the land of the dead?"
Jimena looked at her strangely. Was she serious? "What do you mean?"
"You're going to their house. What do you have to offer them so they will let you leave?"
Jimena thought a long moment. What could the dead possibly want from her? And then she remembered her grandmother's oraciones for her grandfather. "My prayers."
"Prayers?" Jimena could sense the woman's disappointment. "I remember a time when a blood sacrifice was made. People slaughtered the pride of their herds."
"I don't have any cattle or sheep," Jimena offered. "I live in the city."
The woman snorted. "No one really believes in the mythical world anymore. Once people poured libations for the dead."
"Libations?"
"Milk and honey, mellow wine, and water sprinkled with glistening barley. Prayers? Well, I guess that is a modern equivalent. I suppose prayers will have to do.”
― Lynne Ewing, Night Shade