Aficionado Quotes

Beauty is Suspect" declare numerous art aficionados and by so saying have dethroned beauty from its art pedestal. For that reason many people feel speechless and in need of art shrinks. "When is art?

One day she told me that they'd decided that my gender was divvied into two neat piles-Men and Guys. Basically, all the saints of the world: Men. The jerks, the players, the wet T-shirt contest aficionados? They were Guys.

My Heart I'm not going to cry all the time nor shall I laugh all the time, I don't prefer one "strain" to another. I'd have the immediacy of a bad movie, not just a sleeper, but also the big, overproduced first-run kind. I want to be at least as alive as the vulgar. And if some aficionado of my mess says "That's not like Frank!," all to the good! I don't wear brown and grey suits all the time, do I? No. I wear workshirts to the opera, often. I want my feet to be bare, I want my face to be shaven, and my heart--you can't plan on the heart, but the better part of it, my poetry, is open.

Why is it drug addicts and computer aficionados are both called users?

After all, we're currently living in a Bizarro society where teenagers are technology-obsessed, where the biggest sellers in every bookstores are fantasy novels about a boy wizard, and the blockbuster hit movies are all full of hobbits and elves or 1960s spandex superheroes. You don't have to go to a Star Trek convention to find geeks anymore. Today, almost everyone is an obsessive, well-informed aficionado of something. Pick your cult: there are food geeks and fashion geeks and Desperate Housewives geeks and David Mamet geeks and fantasy sports geeks. The list is endless. And since everyone today is some kind of trivia geek or other, there's not even a stigma anymore. Trivia is mainstream. "Nerd" is the new "cool.

Ballet aficionados are just sports fans in formal wear.

Of course I cook," I say looking offended. "I'm a pizza rolls aficionado.

It is these aficionados, these rêveurs, who see the details in the bigger picture of the circus. They see the nuance of the costumes, the intricacy of the signs. They buy sugar flowers and do not eat them, wrapping them in paper instead and carefully bringing them home. They are enthusiasts, devotees. Addicts. Something about the circus stirs their souls, and they ache for it when it is absent.

I love words, and that’s what I want to do. There’s no better satisfaction than using precisely the right word in a conversation. I love the challenge of learning a new language, and I love discovering patterns. And I find it fascinating that words in other languages have crept into our vocabulary. ‘Cul-de-sac,’ ‘aficionado,’ tattoo...

aficionados

She had been like a roller coaster aficionado for whom tame county fair roller coasters were as good as the ones that spun you upside down and dropped you so fast your eyes turned red. It was all just a ride.

Every superhero, every Chosen One, goes through a painful and difficult process of Becoming. On this, all the relevant literature is in agreement. Ask any comic book aficionado, any movie buff. The heroes doubt themselves, even when confronted with irrefutable evidence. They've spent their whole lives listening to weak and powerless people who hate and fear anything that is different, who say that superhuman abilities simply don't exist, and they believe it.

Los intelectuales de Occidente son todos aficionados a la silla. Por eso la mayoría de ustedes son tan repulsivamente malsanos.

These are the times when we aficionados of the gas stove know we are on the side of God.

El que fuese aficionado al baile era verdaderamente una ventaja a la hora de enamorarse;

Smoke and Cigar Aficionado. It was a personal touch, a nod to bygone days, and Keith felt right at home here. A creature of habit, he’d been coming into Rudy’s every weekday

No American sport or activity has been so consistently and so passionately under attack as boxing, for "moral" as we'll as other reasons. And no American sport evokes so ambivalent a response in its defenders: when asked the familiar question "How can you watch . . . ?" the boxing aficionado really has no answer. He can talk about boxing only with others like himself.

[...] si consultáis a los historiadores, veréis que no ha habido príncipes más pestíferos para el Estado que cuando el poder cayó en manos de algún filosofastro o aficionado a las letras.

Since novelty is what your brain craves, you’ll be tempted to move on to something new, and that could be what makes the most sense. However, if you want to stay engaged for more than a few years in any endeavor, you’ll need to find a way to enjoy the nuances that only a true aficionado can appreciate. “The old in the new is what claims the attention,” said William James. “The old with a slightly new turn.

Nunca he conseguido superar la desagradable sensación de que estoy hecha de partes que no acaban de encajar bien en su lugar. Como si fuera un boceto realizado por un artista aficionado. De lejos está bien, pero cuando te acercas y te fijas, se ven muy claramente los borrones y los fallos.

Look at that butt! That's a Bond butt. Don't tell me you haven't noticed? You have to have a great butt to be Bond." She looked incredulous. "And you call yourself a Bond aficionado!" "James has sensitive eyes," I said. "Think Pierce Brosnan. That's what gets the ladies." And me. ~ (And me, too!) "Spy Candy

...Zachary winched a few more letters onto his last name and declared himself king of the Z aficionados.

En cuanto a nosotros, aficionados a la lectura feliz, no leemos ni releemos más que lo que nos gusta, con un pequeño orgullo de lector mezclado con mucho entusiasmo.

soy un chico de 29 tacos aficionado a la música,un cantautor con estilo pop y letras buenas, malas y peores... pero mías.

Right here, right in front of his smoke-tinted eyes, masterpieces were being created and sold at a pittance to these rich beggars masquerading as art aficionados.

Los soldados siempre deberían ser reacios a marchar a la guerra, barón. Son los aficionados quienes están ansiosos por hacerlo.

aficionados of the weather. We’d follow a storm

Wagamama. Text messaging aficionados might like to note that this is one of the most satisfying words you can possibly type.

Just because I’m a reporter doesn’t mean I don’t get to have an opinion about people.” “And your opinion of me is?” “Very low.” His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. “Is it my hair?” I flinched back, automatically checking out his hair. “No. There’s nothing wrong with your hair.” “You don’t like Star Wars?” He gestured to his shirt. “You’re a Trekkie? You should know, I’m an equal opportunity space drama aficionado, whether it be BattleSTAR Galactica, STAR Trek, or STAR—” “I get it, you like science fiction.” “Ah ha!” He lifted his index finger between us. “Ah ha, what?” “You’re a fantasy reader, aren’t you? That’s what’s going on. What’s your favorite TV show? Buffy the Vampire Slayer, right?” I lifted an eyebrow and crossed my arms, disliking that he’d guessed correctly. “What I read and watch isn’t the central issue.” “Have you received your Hogwarts letter?” he asked, and his tone was so serious, I almost mistook it for a real question

que como aficionados se nos ha negado toda instrucción en ese arte; que lo que sabemos lo hemos aprendido nosotros mismos; y que imprimimos en los ratos libres de una vida que dedicamos a otras cosas.

At work she became instant best friends with the Clinique girl, Susan, a Waynesboro muscle-car aficionado. She was fond of dispensinf wisdom along the lines or: "The bullshit stops when the green light pops!" I'd go to the mall to pick up Renee. take them both a couple of coffees, and hang out while they chattered in their hot white coats. Susan would take Renee to hot-rod shows and run-what-ya-brung drag races. She brought out sides of Renee I'd never gotten to see before, and it was a sight to behold. After a night out with Susan, Renee would always come back saying things like, "If it's got tits or tires, it's going to cost you money.

Este parecía pensativo. —¿Traeréis uno de esos calendarios de gatos a los que me he aficionado? Me gustaría decorar la cabaña. —Hay también otros tipos de calendarios. Con nutrias, y conejitos y perritos — bromeó Mark sonriendo. Con aspecto beatífico, Kieran echó la cabeza hacia atrás para contemplar las estrellas. —Sin duda, esta es una tierra de maravillas. Cristina los miró a ambos, con tanto amor en el corazón que casi le dolía. —Sin duda lo es.

Asiente por cortesía pero no cree en los actos fortuitos. Como aficionado a la lectura, cree en la estructura. Si aparece una pistola en el capítulo uno, más vale que se dispare en el capítulo tres. Es decir, cree en la narrativa.

When I first started following writers on social media, I imagined a deluge of profound quotes, writing tips and insights into the plight of wordsmiths. There was some of that. Mostly though, my timeline was taken up with their obsession with coffee: 'I want coffee/I'm having coffee/I've had coffee.' Then came photos of their favourite coffee mug/pot/shop/barista. So, if you've enjoyed a recently-published book, give credit to writers: the vampiric aficionados of the coffee cherry.

The aficionado prefers a crazy bomb to a mediocrity, because the musical as a form has such potential as entertainment that the merely adequate can fatigue the spirit while the disaster can amuse with its drastic misjudgments and desperation gambles.

I admit to not being an aficionado of children, having been one and having found my cohort and myself generally despicable. Unlike many, I was not intent on reproducing myself, deliberately or accidentally, since one of myself was more than enough for me to handle.

• ¡Qué corto ha sido el intervalo entre las ruinas abandonadas a sí mismas, accesibles tan sólo a unos cuantos aficionados intrépidos, semejantes a Piraneso abriéndose camino con el hacha por aquellas soledades encantadas, y la atracción turística para viajes organizados!

Thinking would seem to be a completely solitary activity. And so it is for the other animal species. But for humans, thinking is like a jazz musician improvising a novel riff in the privacy of his own room. It is a solitary activity all right, but on an instrument made by others for that general purpose, after years of playing with and learning from other practitioners, in a musical genre with a rich history of legendary riffs, for an imagined audience of jazz aficionados. Human thinking is individual improvisation enmeshed in a sociocultural matrix.

The aficionado, or lover of the bullfight, may be said, broadly, then, to be one who has this sense of the tragedy and ritual of the fight so that the minor aspects are not important except as they relate to the whole. Either you have this or you have not, just as, without implying any comparison, you have or have not an ear for music. Without an ear for music the principle impression of an auditor at a symphony concert might be of the motions of the players of the double bass, just as the spectator at the bullfight might remember only the obvious grotesqueness of a picador.

Si no quieres que un hombre sea políticamente desgraciado, no lo preocupes mostrándole dos aspectos de una misma cuestión. Muéstrale uno. Que olvide que existe la guerra. Es preferible que un gobierno sea ineficiente, autoritario y aficionado a los impuestos, a que la gente se preocupe por esas cosas.

This is the story of two student enthusiasts of the truth, aficionados of deploying words that seem like truth, of smoking endless cigarettes, and of enclosing themselves within the violent complacency of those who believe themselves better and purer than others, than that immense and detestable group called everyone else.

Being lonely as a kid might well have been necessary for me,” I told audiences in my talks. “If I’d had the friends I dreamt of, I’d never have spent the time to become the machine aficionado I am today. Now that I’m grown I can put that in perspective. The world is full of friendly people with no technical skills. The few of us who see into machines like others see into humans are singularly uncommon, and we’re valued for that. If we use a technology like TMS to help a lonely teen today, will we be taking that exceptional ability away from him tomorrow? Should we trade friends in seventh grade for designing a working spaceship at age twenty-five?

Es verdad que la gente compra más discos compactos que libros, que va más al cine y ve mucho más la televisión de lo que lee. Pero el período de influencia de los novelistas es más largo, quizá porque los lectores son algo más listos que los aficionados a las artes no escritas, y por lo tanto tienen una memoria un poco más larga.

Este anciano es un gran aficionado al sake. Un gran bebedor suele ser, en la mayoría de los hogares, un hombre solitario. Decidir si bebe porque es un solitario o si se ha vuelto solitario porque el resto de la familia le ha dado de lado por ser bebedor es tan difícil como dar una palmada y determinar cuál de las dos manos es la que ha sonado...

Aquel aficionado a las máscaras bien pudo ponerse de cuando en cuando la del graciosos, la del taimado desenvuelto o, simplemente, la del belga bonachón, falsas narices, aún más ficticias que su antifaz de joven príncipe romántico. El verdadero rostro, fuera el que fuese, se hallaba por debajo de todo eso (conozco a muchos así...sería una lista interminable...)

You don’t want to do this, Miss Sheffield,” he warned. “Oh,” she said with great feeling, “I do. I really, really do.” And then, with quite the most evil grin her lips had ever formed, she drew back her mallet and smacked her ball with every ounce of every single emotion within her. It knocked into his with stunning force, sending it hurtling even farther down the hill. Farther . . . Farther . . . Right into the lake. Openmouthed with delight, Kate just stared for a moment as the pink ball sank into the lake. Then something rose up within her, some strange and primitive emotion, and before she knew what she was about, she was jumping about like a crazy woman, yelling, “Yes! Yes! I win!” “You don’t win,” Anthony snapped. “Oh, it feels like I’ve won,” she reveled. Colin and Daphne, who had come dashing down the hill, skidded to a halt before them. “Well done, Miss Sheffield!” Colin exclaimed. “I knew you were worthy of the mallet of death.” “Brilliant,” Daphne agreed. “Absolutely brilliant.” Anthony, of course, had no choice but to cross his arms and scowl mightily. Colin gave her a congenial pat on the back. “Are you certain you’re not a Bridgerton in disguise? You have truly lived up to the spirit of the game.” “I couldn’t have done it without you,” Kate said graciously. “If you hadn’t hit his ball down the hill . . .” “I had been hoping you would pick up the reins of his destruction,” Colin said. The duke finally approached, Edwina at his side. “A rather stunning conclusion to the game,” he commented. “It’s not over yet,” Daphne said. Her husband gave her a faintly amused glance. “To continue the play now seems rather anticlimactic, don’t you think?” Surprisingly, even Colin agreed. “I certainly can’t imagine anything topping it.” Kate beamed. The duke glanced up at the sky. “Furthermore, it’s starting to cloud over. I want to get Daphne in before it starts to rain. Delicate condition and all, you know.” Kate looked in surprise at Daphne, who had started to blush. She didn’t look the least bit pregnant. “Very well,” Colin said. “I move we end the game and declare Miss Sheffield the winner.” “I was two wickets behind the rest of you,” Kate demurred. “Nevertheless,” Colin said, “any true aficionado of Bridgerton Pall Mall understands that sending Anthony into the lake is far more important than actually sending one’s ball through all the wickets. Which makes you our winner, Miss Sheffield.” He looked about, then straight at Anthony. “Does anyone disagree?” No one did, although Anthony looked close to violence. “Excellent,” Colin said. “In that case, Miss Sheffield is our winner, and Anthony, you are our loser.” A strange, muffled sound burst from Kate’s mouth, half laugh and half choke. “Well, someone has to lose,” Colin said with a grin. “It’s tradition.” “It’s true,” Daphne agreed. “We’re a bloodthirsty lot, but we do like to follow tradition.

He bragged about his friendship with Jeffrey Epstein and hit the town with scumbag aficionado Roy Cohn. As president, he pardoned notorious criminals like Joe Arpaio and Scooter Libby and cultivated friendships with authoritarian leaders like Kim Jong Un, Erdoğan, and Putin. It is rare for Trump to hide even the sleaziest of contacts, but he has taken pains to conceal his

Los nazis han atragantado a los alemanes con el acohol de la camaradería, cosa que ellos en parte deseaban, hasta el delirium tremens. Han convertido a todos los alemanes en camaradas y los han aficionado a esa droga desde la edad más temprana: en las Juventudes Hitlerianas, las SA, el ejército del Reich, en miles de campamentos y federaciones, extirpándoles algo irreemplazable, algo que no puede ser compensado con la felicidad propia de la camaradería.

Nietzsche decía que lo que más nos aproxima es una persona es una despedida, porque el sentimiento y el juicio no desean marchar juntos al separarnos. El tren de la vida corre sin darnos cuenta que alguien más se fue y de que no hubo tiempo para despedirse

It is these aficionados, these rêveurs, who see the details in the bigger picture of the circus. They see the nuance of the costumes, the intricacy of the signs. They buy sugar flowers and do not eat them, wrapping them in paper instead and carefully bringing them home. They are enthusiasts, devotees. Addicts. Something about the circus stirs their souls, and they ache for it when it is absent. They seek each other out, these people of such specific like mind. They tell of how they found the circus, how those first few steps were like magic. Like stepping into a fairy tale under a curtain of stars. They pontificate upon the fluffiness of the popcorn, the sweetness of the chocolate. They spend hours discussing the quality of the light, the heat of the bonfire. They sit over their drinks smiling like children and they relish being surrounded by kindred spirits, if only for an evening. When they depart, they shake hands and embrace like old friends, even if they have only just met, and as they go their separate ways they feel less alone than they had before.

Are you a chamber-music aficionado? Or do you like rock so raucous it makes your ears bleed? Whatever your pleasure, Finland has a music festival to suit. Savonlinna’s castle is the dramatic setting for a month-long opera festival; fiddlers gather at Kaustinen for full-scale folk; Pori, Espoo and Tampere attract thousands of jazz fans; Seinäjoki flashes sequins and high heels during its five-day tango festival; Turku's Ruisrock is one of several kicking rock festivals; and the Sibelius Festival in Lahti ushers in autumn with classical grace.

My first whore, I’ll talk about later and was more or less my teeth-cutter. But to continue, I sweet talked and Grey Goose-shot my way into a C-note quickie with the hottest one of these babes, and it was the best and most freaky buck-wild sex I'd ever had. This event changed me from being a decent, normal guy into an inveterate whorefucker, and somewhat of an aficionado.  Whores, if chosen right, are the creme de la creme of fucking, as they have practice, study porn tapes for BJ technique and largely like it, and the vast majority I've been with could win the Nobel Prize for sheer amazing fuckery.

Now, isn’t that neat.” Midwestern sarcasm, when it’s done correctly, can be a thing of rare beauty. It’s like performance art. Everywhere else in the world, you can identify sarcasm if you’re paying attention. Even if the hostility isn’t overt, you can read the signs. There’ll be slightly elongated syllables or a pitch that’s just a little off. It’s like a trombone player with a plunger head. There’s that slight “wah-wah” tone-bending to let you know not to take this too seriously. Midwestern sarcasm plays it straight and makes you listen more closely. You have to treat every conversation like a safecracker. Unless your ears have been trained to recognize it, you’ll miss the hint of a minor key. Sometimes you don’t realize what’s happened until hours later, when it’s 3:00 a.m. and you’re half-asleep, and it suddenly hits you. “Aw, crap, they didn’t mean any of that, did they?” Midwestern sarcasm becomes even more deadly when it’s combined with small-town isolationism. These women had been cheerleaders at our high school, they weren’t indie rock aficionados, and Wilco isn’t exactly a household name. So on the one hand, it wasn’t surprising that they hadn’t followed every turn in my career. It’s shocking that they even remembered I played music at all.

Si no quieres que un hombre sea políticamente desgraciado, no lo preocupes mostrándole dos aspectos de una misma cuestión. Muéstrale uno. Que olvide que existe la guerra. Es preferible que un gobierno sea ineficiente, autoritario y aficionado a los impuestos, a que la gente se preocupe por esas cosas. Paz, Montag. Que la gente intervenga en concursos donde haya que recordar las palabras de las canciones más populares, o los nombres de las capitales de los Estados, o cuánto maíz cosechó Iowa el último año. Llénalos de noticias incombustibles. Sentirán que la información los ahoga, pero se creerán inteligentes. Les parecerá que están pensando, tendrán una sensación de movimiento sin moverse. Y serán felices, pues los hechos de esa especie no cambian. No les des materias resbaladizas, como filosofía o psicología, que engendran hombres melancólicos. El que pueda instalar en su casa una pared de TV, y hoy está al alcance de cualquiera, es más feliz que aquel que pretende medir el universo, o reducirlo a una ecuación. Las medidas y las ecuaciones, cuando se refieren al universo, dan al hombre una sensación de inferioridad y soledad. Lo sé, lo he probado. Al diablo con esas cosas. ¿Qué necesitamos entonces? Más reuniones y clubes, acróbatas y magos, automóviles de reacción, helicópteros, sexo y heroína. Todo lo que pueda hacerse con reflejos automáticos.

En una actualización de un estudio clásico que demuestra que los aficionados al fútbol siempre ven más infracciones del equipo rival, Kahan y sus colaboradores mostraban un vídeo de una protesta delante de un edificio.29 Cuando el título lo etiquetaba como una protesta contra el aborto en un centro de salud, los conservadores veían una manifestación pacífica, mientras que los liberales veían que los manifestantes bloqueaban la entrada e intimidaban a quienes acudían. Cuando se etiquetaba como una protesta contra la exclusión de los homosexuales en un centro de reclutamiento militar, eran los conservadores los que veían horcas y antorchas, y los liberales quienes veían a Mahatma Gandhi.

Quantum uncertainty and chaos theory have had deplorable effects upon popular culture, much to the annoyance of genuine aficionados. Both are regularly exploited by obscurantists, ranging from professional quacks to daffy New Agers. In America, the self-help ‘healing’ industry coins millions, and it has not been slow to cash in on quantum theory’s formidable talent to bewilder. This has been documented by the American physicist Victor Stenger. One well-heeled healer wrote a string of best-selling books on what he calls ‘Quantum Healing’. Another book in my possession has sections on quantum psychology, quantum responsibility, quantum morality, quantum aesthetics, quantum immortality and quantum theology. Chaos theory, a more recent invention, is equally fertile ground for those with a bent for abusing sense. It is unfortunately named, for ‘chaos’ implies randomness. Chaos in the technical sense is not random at all. It is completely determined, but it depends hugely, in strangely hard-to-predict ways, on tiny differences in initial conditions. Undoubtedly it is mathematically interesting.

Había escuchado tantas teorías para explicarlo todo. Porque sí, porque no había nada para hacer, porque estaban aburridos, porque no se llevaban bien con sus padres, porque no tenían padres o porque tenían demasiados, porque les pegaban, porque los hacían abortar, porque tomaban tanto alcohol y tantas drogas, porque les habían hecho un daño, porque salían de noche, porque robaban, porque salían con mujeres, porque salían con mujeres de la noche, porque tenían traumas de infancia, traumas de adolescencia, traumas de primera juventud, porque hubieran querido nacer en otro lado, porque no los dejaban ver al padre, porque la madre los había abandonado, porque hubieran preferido que la madre los hubiera abandonado, porque los habían violado, porque eran solteros, porque tenían amores pero desgraciados, porque habían dejado de ir a misa, porque eran católicos, satánicos, evangelistas, aficionados al dibujo, punks, sentimentales, raros, estudiosos, coquetos, vagos, petroleros, porque tenían problemas, porque no los tenían en absoluto. Teorías. Y las cosas, que se empeñaban en no tener respuesta.

Es muy fea. ¡Y sin embargo, es deliciosa! El Tiempo y el Amor la han señalado con sus garras y la han enseñado cruelmente lo que cada minuto y cada beso se llevan de juventud y de frescura. Es verdaderamente fea; es hormiga, araña, si queréis hasta esqueleto: ¡pero también es brebaje, magisterio, hechizo! En suma, es exquisita. No pudo el Tiempo romper la armonía chispeante de su andar y la elegancia indestructible de su armazón. El Amor no pudo alterar la suavidad de su hálito infantil, y el tiempo nada arrancó de su abundante crin que exhala en leonados perfumes toda la vitalidad endiablada del Mediodía francés: Nimes, Aix, Arles, Aviñón, Narbona, Tolosa, ¡ciudades benditas del sol, enamoradas y encantadoras! En vano la mordieron con buenos dientes el Tiempo y el Amor; en nada amenguaron el encanto vago, pero eterno, de su pecho de doncel. Gastada quizá, pero no fatigada, y siempre heroica, hace pensar en esos caballos de raza fina que los ojos del verdadero aficionado distinguen aunque vayan enganchados a un coche de alquiler o a un lento carromato. ¡Y es, además, tan dulce y ferviente! Quiere como se quiere en otoño; diríase que la proximidad del invierno prende en su corazón un fuego nuevo, y nada de fatigoso hubo jamás en lo servil de su ternura.

They are aficionados at this point, and are hoping to see the green flash at sunset. Apparently Earth’s gravity, or atmosphere, they argue about which, bends the light from the sun in such a way that just before it dips under the horizon and disappears, the Earth is actually physically between the observer and the sun, but the sunlight is curving around the globe because of the atmosphere, or gravity, and as blue light curves more than red light, this curve around the Earth splits the light as if passing it through a prism, and this means that the last visible point of sunlight turns, not blue, which would be too much of a bend and too much like the sky’s color, but green, said to be a pure brilliant emerald green. “This we have to see!” Aram declares. Badim agrees. “Strange to be as old as we are, and see it for the first time.” He turns and calls to Freya. “Girl, come see this green flash that may occur!” “You’re not that old,” she says to him. “You’re like the hundredth-oldest person in the ship.” “Well, even that would be old, but in fact I think I’m down to about fifteenth now. But let’s stay focused on the sunset. I’m told when the sun is three-quarters gone, you can look at it without damaging your eyes. Not for long, mind you, but long enough to see the green flash when it comes.

He ambled towards the abyss again, Acquiescing to the adroit turns of his Abtenauer, his Altai horse, his Appaloosa, His Ardennais, and his Australian Brumby….. Agilely each equine adumbrates the aesthetics Of aestivating, much like aficionados of nature And much like ailurophiles, too…… Ambrosial aromas attract his attention to the Assemblage of amaranth foliage growing At the abyss’s edge. “Anglophile!” “Antediluvian!” “Aplomb!” “Apocryphal!” “Apophenia!” “Apothecary!” Each petal calls out to him as he captures their vision in his Aqueous humor. Now an arabesque they display, Then some archipelago formation, as they (those purple perennials) Give in to the Wind’s whimsy. “What’s in my arsenal?” He asks himself. “Do I have Authenticity, like Astrophysics and Astronomy?” “Am I at last in my Autumn, torn asunder by Avarice? Shall I now step toward Winter to wither and waste away, without rebirth?” The Summer’s azure skies call him back, reminding him of his herd. Homeward he must turn. The pony pushes him back to the plain. And, as he trudges away from the abyss, the warriors of darkness— His old battle buddies who left him behind as they raced toward Providence— Rattle in his mind with their Paleolithic war toys, on the war path, chanting: “The greatest battles we face are in the silent chambers of our own souls…..” -----from the poem 'Summer Battle' in the book HOT STUFF: CELEBRATING SUMMER'S SIMMER AND SIZZLE, by Mariecor Ruediger

Finally, he looked sideways at Vaughn. “So. I guess this is probably a good time to mention that Isabelle is pregnant.” That got a small chuckle out of Vaughn. “I kind of figured that already. I’ve had my suspicions for a few weeks.” Simon nodded. “Isabelle wondered if you knew.” “You could’ve told me, Simon,” Vaughn said, not unkindly. “I get why you might not want Mom to know yet, but why not talk to me about it?” Simon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I guess I didn’t think you’d understand.” “I wouldn’t understand that you want to marry the woman who’s pregnant with your child? I think that’s a concept I can grasp.” “See, that’s just it.” Simon gestured emphatically. “I knew that’s how you would see it. That I’m marrying Isabelle because I got her pregnant. And I don’t want you, or Mom, or anyone else to think about Isabelle that way—that she’s the woman I had to marry, because it was the right thing to do. Because the truth is, I knew I wanted to marry Isabelle on our second date. She invited me up to her apartment that night, and I saw that she had the entire James Bond collection on Blu-ray. Naturally, being the Bond aficionado that I am, I threw out a little test question for her: ‘Who’s the best Bond?’” Vaughn scoffed. “Like there’s more than one possible answer to that.” “Exactly. Sean Connery’s a no-brainer, right? But get this—she says Daniel Craig.” Simon caught Vaughn’s horrified expression. “I know, right? So I’m thinking the date is over because clearly she’s either crazy or has seriously questionable taste, but then she starts going on and on about how Casino Royale is the first movie where Bond is touchable and human, and then we get into this big debate that lasts for nearly an hour. And as I’m sitting there on her couch, I keep thinking that I don’t know a single other person who would relentlessly argue, for an hour, that Daniel Craig is a better Bond than Sean Connery. She pulled out the DVDs and showed me movie clips and everything.” He smiled, as if remembering the moment. “And somewhere in there, it hit me. I thought to myself, I’m going to marry this woman.

El historiador británico Michael Howard identificó otras tres dimensiones de la estrategia, aparte de la operativa. Eran la logística, la social y la tecnológica. Advirtió del peligro de preocuparse únicamente de las operaciones, aisladas del esfuerzo logístico que las hacían posibles, del contexto social en el que iban a ejecutarse y de las formas tecnológicas que iban a emplearse.[33] La concentración del foco en el nivel operativo, donde tenían lugar todas las decisiones críticas sobre el empleo de las fuerzas, significaba que la metodología se apartaba de la relación civiles-militares. Esto ocurría en el nivel estratégico supuestamente más importante. En la práctica, limitar el foco a un nivel operativo concreto tenía el efecto de mantener el combate real en el ámbito militar profesional y lejos de las interferencias de los civiles aficionados. Esto solo reflejaba el rencor de los militares, cuyas explicaciones al fracaso de la Guerra de Vietnam se reducían a acusar la microdirección («micromanagement») civil.

Kit maintained that the donut a man chose told you much about his personality, often going off on tangents about the borderline sociopathy of the Boston Kreme aficionado, which

I love you I do, I do! And it tears me Knowing she's just using you You, a clever aficionado Brave and beautiful But blind to a love Me, a craven A selfish guilty coward Can't even tell you Coz I can't stand the idea of you hating me We're just alike, You and Me Always yearning for a love Never meant to be.

Summer’s lease hath all too short a date. —WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE Aficionados

... La bala retozona del 5.56, esa misma que hace zigzag y en vez de salir por ahí sale por allá o hace estallar el hígado, se comporta así porque un brillante ingeniero, hombre pacífico donde los haya, quizá católico practicante, aficionado a Mozart y a la jardinería, pasó muchas horas estudiando el asunto. Tal vez hasta le dio nombre -Bala Louise, Pequeña Eusebia- porque el día que se le ocurrió el invento era el cumpleños de su mujer o su hija. Después, una vez terminados los planos, con la conciencia tranquila y la satisfacción del deber cumplido, el asesino de manos limpias apagó la luz de la mesa de proyectos y se fue a Disneylandia con la familia.

Tras verme rechazado en un par de tiendas de artículos de deporte («¡Chaval, si hay algo que el mundo no necesita son más zapatillas de atletismo!»), me recorrí todo el Pacífico Noroeste, asistiendo a varias competiciones en pista. Entre carrera y carrera charlaba con entrenadores, corredores y aficionados, y les mostraba mi mercancía. La respuesta siempre era la misma. No daba abasto con tanto pedido. De regreso a Portland, iba dándole vueltas a mi repentino éxito de ventas. Había sido incapaz de vender enciclopedias, y por añadidura era un trabajo que despreciaba. Vendiendo fondos mutuos me había ido un poco mejor, pero me hacía sentirme vacío. Entonces ¿por qué vender zapatillas era tan distinto? Comprendí que era porque no estaba vendiendo nada. Yo creía que correr era bueno. Pensaba que, si la gente corría unas cuantas millas cada día, el mundo sería un lugar mejor, y estaba convencido de que aquellas deportivas eran las mejores para correr. La gente percibía que creía en ello, y quería parte de dicha fe para sí misma. «Es la fe», decidí. «La fe es irresistible.»

¿Por qué el Real Madrid es capaz de ganar? Dinero, por supuesto. Jugadores de talento, está claro. Análisis de datos, sin lugar a dudas. Pero estos conceptos sólo son una parte de la fórmula Real Madrid. La junta directiva del Real Madrid cree que, al final, es la cultura de equipo lo que acaba teniendo un mayor impacto en el rendimiento, tanto dentro como fuera del campo. Para ellos, «cultura» significa tener a todo el mundo trabajando en una misión común, con una actitud libre de todo egoísmo, y supone tener los objetivos muy claros, así como conocer la forma de alcanzarlos, a partir de la cooperación mutua. Lo que convierte al Real Madrid en un ejemplo tan fascinante de gestión es que toda su estrategia, tanto dentro como fuera del campo, se basa en la adhesión a unos valores y a los deseos de sus aficionados —es la comunidad la que dicta la cultura.

Beets, they claim, taste like dirt. And they do, actually, although most beet aficionados prefer the term “earthy.

Imágenes tal vez tomadas de Salgari o de Julio Verne, tan poco aficionados como nosotros a las verdades secas y estériles. Y todo estaba siempre matizado por el terrosidades dulzón, atosigante, que infundía en nosotros la posibilidad de que los chismeros llegaran en cualquier momento, con sus ropajes sudados y sucios y sus cimitarras rectas, marca Corneta. A cortarles la cabeza hasta a los perros, como había ocurrido en fincas iguales a la nuestra..con buen humor

We found ourselves in a lovers’ arrangement common in cities, when you see each other after midnight, once a week or so, sometimes dinner if he felt up for a date. I wanted more, but he had just gotten free of a long relationship, and I’d never been in one. We dated other people. I gravitated to people who reminded me of him, quiet, reserved, people who moved with diligence and discipline in their art. Masculine, but soft. When I couldn’t bear our arrangement, I cut myself off. But I wanted to smell him. I traced his scent back to the source, the Brooklyn Bangladeshi-owned oil shop Madina on Atlantic Avenue, an institution. Named for one of the two holy cities in Islam, the word al-Madina simply means the city, and the shop’s visitors include Black and Muslim entrepreneurs, fragrance aficionados, folks who want to smell good for cheap, imams who sell the oils to the prison commissary, making perfumes available to inmates. I would purchase five-dollar roll-on bottles of oil to smell him in those periods we were off-again.

¿Por qué eran tan aficionados los thayleños a unir tantas letras, sin vocales adecuadas?

Esa jornada inaugural lleva a los ciclistas desde Milán hasta Cuneo. Nada complicado, pues, una trayectoria en ligero descenso y alrededor de 200 kilómetros en línea recta. Pero el Giro de 1914 no conoce las carreteras directas, siempre busca el más difícil todavía. Asi que la etapa hace un diábolico recorrido por el norte, atravesando el Puerto de Sestriere a más de 2000 metros de altitud, antes de bajar a Cuneo vía Saluzzo. En total 468 kilómetros... Los ciclistas esperan la salida en plena noche milanesa, acompañados por una multitud enfervorizada de más de 10 000 tifosi. Pero unos quince minutos antes de la carrera se desata una tormenta apocalíptica, que durará casi 36 horas. Los aficionados son sustituidos por el granizo, y empieza de esa forma una de las jornadas más épicas que jamás se han vivido sobre bicis.

Coffee is my liquid heroin. I'm a coffee aficionado.

En el transcurso de ese mes de octubre de 1957, muchos aficionados y curiosos pudieron ver al Sputnik pasar por encima de sus cabezas.

I bury myself in the comfort offered by my bar of white vanilla and olive oil chocolate, enjoying every luxurious morsel. This isn't strictly pure chocolate as it's made with cocoa butter rather than cocoa solids (these things matter to the aficionado) but it's so great that Clive is allowed to keep it in his repertoire. It's like a grown-up version of a Milky Bar---but I'd never dare say that within earshot of Clive. I let its velvety texture melt slowly on my tongue and let out a long, steady exhalation of breath. Joy is returning to my life.

I am the world's most badass cat picture aficionado. I recommend that you put down your gun and surrender.

Dr. Fauci’s aficionados, including President Biden and the cable and network news anchors, counseled Americans to “trust the experts.” Such advice is both anti-democratic and anti-science.

«No tiene usted ni idea de lo que es el Tour de Francia», le confesó Pélissier. «Es un calvario. Es como el camino de la cruz, pero en vez de catorce estaciones nosotros tenemos que recorrer quince. Nosotros sufrimos durante todo el camino. ¿Quiere saber cómo sobrevivimos?». El periodista, como es lógico, dijo que sí: «Esto de esta bolsa es cocaína para los ojos, esto otro cloroformo para las encías. Aquí tengo una pomada para el dolor de las rodillas», siguió relatando. «¿Y píldoras. Ve usted estas píldoras?», enseñando tres botecillos que también sacó de un bolsillo: «Brevemente», dijo Francis. «Nosotros marchamos con dinamita». Henri siguió con su descripción: «Mírenos usted cuando llegamos al hotel y nos metemos en el baño. Pague por el espectáculo: Estamos blancos como sudarios, la diarrea nos vacía. Tenemos que curar nuestras heridas antes de dormir. Cuando bajamos de la bicicleta estamos tan delgados que se puede pasar a través de nuestra camiseta, de nuestro culotte. Y las uñas de los pies. Pierdo seis de diez. Se mueren poco a poco en cada etapa». El artículo de Londres causó sensación. El periodista les llamó «Los forzados de la carretera». De un plumazo, los aficionados que ya llenaban las cunetas para presenciar el paso del Tour, elevaron a los ciclistas a la categoría de héroes.

después de que Bahamontes, con su retirada, cubriera de oprobio a los aficionados españoles».

EL SEXO ES LA ÚNICA ACTIVIDAD HUMANA EN LA QUE EL PROFESIONAL TIENE UN ESTATUS INFERIOR AL DEL AFICIONADO.

Dirección : Pl. de Carlos Trías Bertrán, 4, 28020 Madrid Teléfono : +34 911 78 18 00 Una herramienta es un objeto diseñado para facilitar la realización de una tarea específica o conjunto de tareas. Las herramientas pueden ser manuales o eléctricas, y están diseñadas para ayudar en la construcción, reparación, mantenimiento o cualquier otra actividad que requiera un esfuerzo físico o mecánico. Ejemplos comunes de herramientas incluyen martillos, destornilladores, sierras, taladros, llaves y muchas otras. Las herramientas pueden ser utilizadas por profesionales o aficionados en una amplia variedad de campos, incluyendo la carpintería, la mecánica, la electrónica, la plomería y muchos otros. En resumen, una herramienta es un objeto esencial para la realización de trabajos de manera eficiente y efectiva.

Éxtasis es el arrobo en el que se sumerge el aficionado cada vez que el torero cita, para, templa, manda, liga y carga la suerte, respetando los cánones y, a la vez, reinventándolos, frente a los pitones de un toro bravo

Pero eso lo entendió después de duras experiencias, cuando ya era tarde. Como casi siempre sucede (como si el tiempo se divirtiese en presentarse antes de lo debido para que la gente haga representaciones tan grotescas y primarias como las que hacen ciertos cuadros de aficionados a los que les falta experiencia: Otelos que todavía no han amado).

Being the true crime aficionado and millennial I was, I had no intention of answering.

Me atrevo a decir que los desciframientos permanecen in fieri. Porque las razones del profesor para emprender su excursión a La Cumbrecita, convertirse en el detective aficionado que descubre la supervivencia de Van Hutten, llegar a conocer el mensaje contenido en la susodicha epístola, vivir un amor fugaz con la jovencísima Christiane, hija del arqueólogo, y regresar, por fin, a Buenos Aires como un alma perdida, todos aquellos motivos nunca nos quedan claros.

I consider Greek morality to be the supreme morality up to now; what this consideration shows me is that its bodily expression made (it) the supreme morality up to now. Yet by that I mean the actual people's morality — not the one espoused by the philosophers: the decline of morals begins with Socrates: there are exclusively one-sided elements in the different systems that in earlier times were parts of a whole — it is the disintegrated older ideal. In addition there is the predominantly plebeian character, there are people without power, marginalized, oppressed etc. In more recent times the Italian Renaissance brought human beings to their highest level: "the Florentines" — for similar reasons. Isolated conditions are also evident there alongside perfect and whole human beings, like fragments: e.g., "the tyrant" is such a fragment: the art aficionado. Perhaps the Provençal had already achieved such an apogee in Europe — very rich, multifaceted, and yet self-possessed human beings, who were not ashamed of their drives.

The Idea Generators So let’s open the net wide and get down to generating ideas . . . I mean problems! Here’s what the process of coming up with a million-dollar business idea does NOT look like: Getting on TikTok or YouTube and mindlessly copying whatever the influencers say is working for them Getting struck with the perfect vision for a genius new product Meditating, following your passion, and brainstorming Following any other woo-woo method that promises inspiration in a box Here’s what the actual process looks like: What’s the most painful (aka valuable) problem you can solve for people . . . That you also have passion for and/or unique expertise in . . . For the largest niche possible that you belong to and understand . . . Simple enough, but takes some light and fun brainwork. Remember to focus on your Zone of Influence here (your existing community): the 150 followers you have on TikTok, the 200 in your local Taco Aficionados group, the 300 in the WhatsApp group for your mountain biking club (not to mention the 143,000 in the subreddit r/mountainbiking). Your job as a problem seeker is to go to a community of yours. You can access all the idea challenges and more examples at MillionDollarWeekend.com. Now it’s your turn. Use the following four challenges to come up with at least ten potentially profitable ideas:

A wealthy man and his son loved to collect works of art. They had in their collection works ranging from Picasso to Raphael and Rembrandt. When the Vietnam War broke out, the son was drafted and sent to fight in ’Nam. He was very courageous and died in battle. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son. About a month later, a young lad appeared at the door to his house and said, “Sir, you don’t know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life that fateful day. He was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart. He died instantly. He used to often talk about you and your love for art. Here’s something for you,” he added, holding out a package. “It is something that I drew. I know I am not much of an artist, but I wanted you to have this from me as a small measure of memory and thanks.” It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. It captured the personality of his son. The father’s eyes welled up with tears as he thanked the young man for the painting. He offered to pay for the picture, but the man replied, “Oh! No, sir. I could never repay what your son did for me. It is my gift to you.” The father hung the portrait over his mantel and showed it proudly to all his visitors along with all of the great works of art he possessed. Some time later, the old man died. As decreed in his will, his paintings were all to be auctioned. Many influential and rich people gathered together, excited over the prospect of owning one of the masterpieces. On a platform nearby also sat the painting of his son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. “Let’s start the bidding with the picture of his son. Who will bid for this picture?” There was silence. A voice shouted from the back, “Let’s skip this one. We want the famous masters.” But the auctioneer persisted. “Ten dollars, twenty dollars, what do I hear?” Another voice came back angrily, “We didn’t come here for this. Let’s have the Picassos, the Matisses, the van Goghs.” Still the auctioneer persisted. “The son. Anyone for the son? Who’ll take the son?” Finally a quavering voice came from the back. It was the longtime gardener of the house. “I’ll take the son for ten dollars. I am sorry, but that’s all I have.” “Ten dollars once, ten dollars twice, anybody for twenty dollars? Sold for ten dollars.” “Now let’s get on with the auction,” said a wealthy art aficionado sitting in the front row. The auctioneer laid down his gavel and spoke. “I am sorry, but the auction is over.” “But what about the other paintings? The masters?” “The auction is over,” said the auctioneer. “I was asked to conduct the auction with a stipulation, a secret stipulation that said that only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, paintings and all. The one who took the son gets everything.

—Esos aficionados de la oración que se vuelven altaneros apenas se asoman al universo de la comunión con Dios y ya se sienten superiores al resto de los mortales. El orgullo es un fijador de pelo que atraviesa el cráneo y endurece y bloquea las neuronas.

Es el momento decisivo en casi cualquier combate. Es el momento en que las fuerzas salen inesperadamente del cuerpo y la adrenalina sube con tanta intensidad que se convierte en una carga paralizadora, y una resignada capitulación se materializa como un fantasma... Es el momento que separa al aficionado del profesional, al ganador del perdedor.

Todo esto se ha descrito mil veces, quizá no merece la pena detenerse de nuevo en esta sórdida y apestosa ópera. Además, quizá tampoco sea útil ni pertinente comparar la guerra con una ópera, y menos cuando no se es muy aficionado a la ópera, aunque la guerra, como ella, sea grandiosa, enfática, excesiva, llena de ingratas morosidades, como ella arme mucho ruido y con frecuencia, a la larga, resulte bastante fastidiosa.

Kate’s mind was obviously not lodged as firmly in the gutter as his, since she chose to sit in the chair opposite him, even though there was plenty of room in his chair, provided they didn’t mind squeezing next to each other. Even the chair kitty-corner to his would have been better; at least then he could have yanked her up and hauled her onto his lap. If he tried that maneuver where she was seated across the table, he’d have to drag her through the middle of the tea service. Anthony narrowed his eyes as he assessed the situation, trying to guess exactly how much tea would spill on the rug, and then how much it would cost to replace the rug, and then whether he really cared about such a piddling amount of money, anyway . . . “Anthony? Are you listening to me?” He looked up. Kate was resting her arms on her knees as she leaned forward to talk with him. She looked very intent and just a little bit irritated. “Were you?” she persisted. He blinked. “Listening to me?” she ground out. “Oh.” He grinned. “No.” She rolled her eyes but didn’t bother to scold him any further than that. “I was saying that we should have Edwina and her young man over for dinner one night. To see if we think they suit. I have never before seen her so interested in a gentleman, and I do so want her to be happy.” Anthony reached for a biscuit. He was hungry, and he’d pretty much given up on the prospect of getting his wife into his lap. On the other hand, if he managed to clear off the cups and saucers, yanking her across the table might not have such messy consequences . . . He surreptitiously pushed the tray bearing the tea service to the side. “Hmmm?” he grunted, chewing on the biscuit. “Oh, yes, of course. Edwina should be happy.” Kate eyed him suspiciously. “Are you certain you don’t want some tea with that biscuit? I’m not a great aficionado of brandy, but I would imagine that tea would taste better with shortbread.” Actually, Anthony thought, the brandy did quite well with shortbread, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to empty out the teapot a bit, just in case he toppled it over. “Capital idea,” he said, grabbing a teacup and thrusting it toward her. “Tea’s just the thing. Can’t imagine why I didn’t think of it earlier.” “I can’t imagine, either,” she murmured acerbically— if one could murmur in an acerbic manner, and after hearing Kate’s low sarcasm, Anthony rather thought one could. But he just gave her a jovial smile as he reached out and took his teacup from her outstretched hand.

―¿No está usted contento con su oficio? ―¿Quién está contento con su oficio? Sin embargo, reconozco que éste tiene algunas ventajas sobre los demás. ―Sin duda alude usted al carácter secreto, al peligro, a la aventura. Habla como un aficionado. —No. En todos los oficios hay secreto, riesgo y aventura. Se necesitaba la fatuidad de los románticos para llegar a creer que sólo los piratas, los conspiradores o los bandidos generosos tenían el privilegio de esos condimentos en sus vidas. Hoy somos más imaginativos, o menos ingenuos, o sabemos más. Hoy nos parece un pirata un tipo mucho más limitado y rutinario que un portero de gran hotel, o que un médico.

How come every one of these so-called photos of Bigfoot are blurred or distorted? Don’t any of these Bigfoot aficionados have a decent camera?

El profesionalismo, al crecer en todos los terrenos (en el siglo XX), convirtió en impotentes y ridículos a los aficionados de la era victoriana, y al profundizar en las investigacions (y esto implicava también al Estado) rompió la unidad de la cultura, inventó nuevos lenguajes y originó insondables abismos que los aficionados nunca podrían entender ni salvar. Cada vez más, los Hombres se vieron empujados por las realidades y los acontecimientos a una humildad que los primitives victorianos tan solo sentían hacia Dios, a a una apatia desconocida por las generaciones precedentes".

Costa Rica Craft Cerveza Artisanal beers are gaining momentum in Costa Rica, a development that doubtless will thrill visiting beer aficionados. Over the last several years, craft breweries have popped up in various hot spots, bringing creative birras (beers) to palates thirsting for something more complex than the ubiquitous Imperial. Imagine sipping a locally brewed pineapple Hefeweizen, red ale or cacao stout at sunset – it brings a hoppy tear to our eye (Click here).

Alonso decidía congelar su proyecto de equipo: “Lo hemos intentado hasta el final, pero ha sido realmente imposible tener un equipo ciclista en 2014. Mi pasión por este deporte, las ganas de colaborar y poner nuestro granito de arena permanecen intactas, con lo que esto solamente ha sido el comienzo del futuro. Desde mañana empezamos a trabajar en construir, si hiciera falta desde la nada, un equipo del que podamos sentirnos orgullosos… El ciclismo y sus aficionados se merecen lo mejor y ahora disponemos de tiempo para ello. No ha podido ser, ¡pero será! Esta aventura no ha hecho más que empezar. ¡Con ilusión a por el 2015!”.

Samuel sabía que ahora le llegaba el momento de la verdad: “Siendo juvenil corrí la Vuelta a Vizcaya, donde los Madariaga me propusieron pasar a aficionado. Para mí han sido tres años muy buenos. He tenido la suerte de encontrarme con Rubén y Julián Gorospe, que han confiado en mí. Intentaré no defraudarles y dejarme la piel en la carretera. Ahora llega lo complicado”.

Aficionados of watching men slogging through mud or standing around discussing bilge pump operations would be enthralled by the show.