Promethean Quotes

“The Promethean = the Faustian = the eternal seeker = the eternal wanderer = the eternal quester. The Promethean is a romantic, a striving figure, an outsider, a non-conformist. He’s often alone. Conventional society has rejected him and, more importantly, he has rejected conventional society. The HyperHuman plays the Great Game – the God Game. His objective it to transform himself into God ... to undergo the ultimate metamorphosis. The HyperHuman is a new kind of knight, a knight of the mind. He seeks to merit the title of “knight” and lives courageously by a noble code. His life has total focus and purpose. His mind is always focused on the Holy Grail. The search for the Grail is the symbol of the HyperHuman’s search for heaven, for God, to become God.”
― Mike Hockney, HyperHumanity

“Prometheans are always seeking the power of the gods. They are the supreme creators, the Cosmic Engineers. They are the restless Faustians who are never satisfied ... It’s time for new gods. We ourselves shall create them. That’s what Prometheans and Faustians do.”
― Mark Romel, Social Capitalism: Against Mammonism

“We are the Hyperboreans, Faustians and Prometheans. All of these concern the light of reason, the fire of spirit, the insatiable lust for the highest and final things. This is what Illuminism is all about.”
― David Sinclair, Without the Mob, There Is No Circus

“The Architect’s Prologue: The Occupation of the Void by Stewart Stafford

“Lost are the seekers of miracles.
Only in the end, in the telling and re-telling of the tale, is the miracle seen — Life."

I crave the blank space that once was nothing—
a silent void, an impatient canvas, a domain unclaimed.

The emptiness that sired every iota of art on earth,
fashioned by those daring hands to cram
with humour, fear, obsession, logic, love, or passion.

The human animal’s cursed superpower — consciousness —
Finitude’s simultaneous scalpel and wound,
lock-picked instinct’s shackles, freed this chosen being,
to the detached observance of its kind and the world.

As the only creature gifted enough to ask “why,”
it sought meaning and virgin-birthed the quadruplet firmaments
of art, theology, politics, and philosophy—
the golden ignition of the divine spark of creativity writ large.

Feast upon the field of canary yellow rapeseed
Translucent on a day of blinding sunlight.
See how the colour transcends structure and lives,
dances, and breathes—
Nature unveils its primordial palette,
inviting insects to pollinate and Man to dare to dream
of creating torch-bearing vibrancy,
shockingly intense, and timeless.

If your written words become literal nails to crucify you with,
Then you have done your job well.
You provoked a reaction.
Writing that moves not is a body without a soul—
a comrade of the anonymous unknown soldiers of literature.

Let untouched parchment be our stage,
and the vacuum our rousing scene,
Promethean agency as alchemy’s fire—
not supplicant-sought from unseen forces,
but struck from the living earth itself.

When golden boughs spring from rotting trunks,
mortal man resists their provenance;
yet the evidence of his eyes is the blinding truth.

© 2026, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford