Antonio Banderas Quotes

According to this, it’s not the Twelve that is going to be the undoing of the Daughter of Light, but the Thirteenth Warrior.” “Antonio Banderas is going to be my undoing? I’m rife with anticipation.

Mr. Kadam bowed and said, “Miss Kelsey, I will leave you to your dining companion. Enjoy your dinner.” Then he walked out of the restaurant. “Mr. Kadam, wait. I don’t understand.” Dining companion? What is he talking about? Maybe he’s confused. Just then, a deep, all-too-familiar voice behind me said, “Hello, Kells.” I froze, and my heart dropped into my stomach, stirring up about a billion butterflies. A few seconds passed. Or was it a few minutes? I couldn’t tell. I heard a sigh of frustration. “Are you still not talking to me? Turn around, please.” A warm hand slid under my elbow and gently turned me around. I raised my eyes and gasped softly. He was breathtaking! So handsome, I wanted to cry. “Ren.” He smiled. “Who else?” He was dressed in an elegant black suit and he’d had his hair cut. Glossy black hair was swept back away from his face in tousled layers that tapered to a slight curl at the nape of his neck. The white shirt he wore was unbuttoned at the collar. It set off his golden-bronze skin and his brilliant white smile, making him positively lethal to any woman who might cross his path. I groaned inwardly. He’s like…like James Bond, Antonio Banderas, and Brad Pitt all rolled into one. I decided the safest thing to do would be to look at his shoes. Shoes were boring, right? Not attractive at all. Ah. Much better. His shoes were nice, of course-polished and black, just like I would expect. I smiled wryly when I realized that this was the first time I’d ever seen Ren in shoes. He cupped my chin and made me look at his face. The jerk. Then it was his turn to appraise me. He looked me up and down. And not a quick look. He took it all in slowly. The kind of slow that made a girl’s face feel hot. I got mad at myself for blushing and glared at him. Nervous and impatient, I asked, “Are you finished?” “Almost.” He was now staring at my strappy shoes. “Well, hurry up!” His eyes drifted leisurely back up to my face and he smiled at me appreciatively, “Kelsey, when a man spends time with a beautiful woman, he needs to pace himself.” I quirked an eyebrow at him and laughed. “Yeah, I’m a regular marathon alright.” He kissed my fingers. “Exactly. A wise man never sprints…in a marathon.” “I was being sarcastic, Ren.” He ignored me and tucked my hand under his arm then led me over to a beautifully lit table. Pulling the chair out for me, he invited me to sit. I stood there wondering if I could sprint for the nearest exit. Stupid strappy shoes, I’d never make it. He leaned in close and whispered in my ear. “I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not going to let you escape again. You can either take a seat and have dinner with me like a normal date,” he grinned at his word choice, “or,” he paused thoughtfully then threatened, “you can sit on my lap while I force-feed you.” I hissed, “You wouldn’t dare. You’re too much of a gentleman to force me to do anything. It’s an empty bluff, Mr. Asks-For-Permission.” “Even a gentleman has his limits. One way or another, we’re going to have a civil conversation. I’m hoping I get to feed you from my lap, but it’s your choice.” He straightened up again and waited. I unceremoniously plunked down in my chair and scooted in noisily to the table. He laughed softly and took the chair across from me. I felt guilty because of the dress and readjusted my skirt so it wouldn’t wrinkle.

The Director’s Chair is with Francis Ford Coppola (The Godfather, Apocalypse Now, etc.), and Robert refers later to this quote from Francis: “Failure is not necessarily durable. Remember that the things that they fire you for when you are young are the same things that they give lifetime achievement awards for when you’re old.” ROBERT: “Even if I didn’t sell Mariachi, I would have learned so much by doing that project. That was the idea—I’m there to learn. I’m not there to win; I’m there to learn, because then I’ll win, eventually. . . . “You’ve got to be able to look at your failures and know that there’s a key to success in every failure. If you look through the ashes long enough, you’ll find something. I’ll give you one. Quentin [Tarantino] asked me, ‘Do you want to do one of these short films called Four Rooms [where each director can create the film of their choosing, but it has to be limited to a single hotel room, and include New Year’s Eve and a bellhop]?’ and my hand went up right away, instinctively. . . . “The movie bombed. In the ashes of that failure, I can find at least two keys of success. On the set when I was doing it, I had cast Antonio Banderas as the dad and had this cool little Mexican as his son. They looked really close together. Then I found the best actress I could find, this little half-Asian girl. She was amazing. I needed an Asian mom. I really wanted them to look like a family. It’s New Year’s Eve, because [it] was dictated by the script, so they’re all dressed in tuxedos. I was looking at Antonio and his Asian wife and thinking, ‘Wow, they look like this really cool, international spy couple. What if they were spies, and these two little kids, who can barely tie their shoes, didn’t know they were spies?’ I thought of that on the set of Four Rooms. There are four of those [Spy Kids movies] now and a TV series coming. “So that’s one. The other one was, after [Four Rooms] failed, I thought, ‘I still love short films.’ Anthologies never work. We shouldn’t have had four stories; it should have been three stories because that’s probably three acts, and it should just be the same director instead of different directors because we didn’t know what each person was doing. I’m going to try it again. Why on earth would I try it again, if I knew they didn’t work? Because you figured something out when you’re doing it the first time, and [the second attempt] was Sin City.” TIM: “Amazing.

Su Excelencia el Libertador ha tomado la ciudad y provincia de Guayaquil bajo la protección de Colombia... Artículo séptimo: Las antiguas autoridades han cesado en sus funciones políticas y militares”. Acto seguido se izó la bandera colombiana y circuló la proclama de Bolívar:

Pero la guerra… Son los lápices rojos, las reglas y los compases, los mapas…. Motoristas, órdenes, Estados Mayores, toda una perfecta y complicada organización sobre el comercio de vidas humanas. La muerte objetivada, hecha número… La guerra no sabe para qué funciona. Funciona simplemente. Hombre, es la guerra. Pero… ¡Es la guerra! Y así hasta el final: la guerra sujeto, la guerra protagonista, la guerra razón. ¡Toda para la guerra! ¡Todo por la guerra! ¿Usted qué es? ¿Yo? Un miembro de la guerra, una uña de la guerra, un pelo de la guerra. La guerra es mi padre, mi dios y mi ley. Yo he nacido para eso: para servir a la guerra. Mi madre me parió para que un día, a una orden de otro, que le transmitió otro, quien, a su vez, la recibió de otro, y de otro, y de otro, y de nadie, yo empiece a disparar contra otro. ¿Por qué? Ah, es la guerra, amigo. ¿Usted no sabe lo que es la guerra? No. Pues mire, la guerra es… eso. Y todo el mundo tan tranquilo, lavándose la sangre que le salpica. ¿Los muertos? Los muertos no existen, son bajas. ¡Número de bajas! No número de hombres. ¡Número de bajas!... ¿Y qué es una baja? Nada, es decir, menos uno. Muy fácil y muy claro. ¿Y Antonio, y José, y Manuel, y Vicente? Aquí no hay nombres. Esto es como una sociedad anónima, ¿entendido? Dividendos, ganancias, pérdidas, acciones, intereses… Usted es un hombre apegado a ciertas sensualidades directas, celulares, concretas, y no sabe separarse de ellas. Amigo mío, usted no es un guerrero, usted no tiene imaginación, usted no sabe elevarse como una águila. Desde la gran altura no se ve nada de eso en lo que usted piensa. Niños, conciencias, proyectos de vida, ética, trabajo… ¡Ay, ay, ay! ¡Cómo se ve que usted es un maestro de escuela!”…

Los heridos no serán prisioneros de guerra [...] Los militares o empleados que hayan desertado de sus banderas no pueden ser castigados con pena capital [...] El canje de prisioneros será obligatorio [...] Los habitantes de los pueblos que alternativamente se ocuparen por las armas de ambos gobiernos serán altamente respetados y gozarán de absoluta libertad y seguridad [...] Los cadáveres, en los campos de batalla, recibirán los últimos honores de la sepultura.

The man was the love child of James Bond and Antonio Banderas.