Aussie Day Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Aussie Day. Here they are! All 22 of them:

On ne peut pas chanter comme ça, uniquement pour faire plaisir à l'autre, aussi cher soit-il, non, le chant doit venir du cœur, voilà ce que je dis toujours, couler de source, comme des merles.
Samuel Beckett (Happy Days)
La femme africaine, en particulier la femme gabonaise, ne doit jamais craindre l’échec. Malgré les oppressions qui attaquent son quotidien, elle se doit d’être intrépide afin de défendre ses droits ; aussi le faire avec classe et intégrité.
Naide P Obiang
If anyone had told Joss last week that she’d be dry humping a twenty-seven-year-old she’d met only five days prior in the bathroom of the loft above her garage, she’d have committed them for psychiatric evaluation. But here she was and she could not get enough. Her body throbbed with need. Maybe she needed committing?
Amy Andrews (Troy (American Extreme Bull Riders Tour, #5))
Je suis heureuse et fière de moi, même quand je fais les courses. Je sors si j’en ai envie, sinon je reste à la maison pour lire, regarder un film ou bien cuisiner pour moi ou mes amis. Parfois, je mange à table. D’autres fois, je m’assieds par terre, adossée au canapé. J’ouvre une bouteille de vin même quand je suis seule. Je n’ai pas besoin de négocier. Je suis indépendante. Je suis prête à me battre de toutes mes forces pour préserver cette situation. Pour toujours. Pourtant, moi aussi, j’aurais quelquefois besoin qu’on m’enlace. Besoin de baisser la garde et de me perdre dans les bras d’un homme. De me sentir protégée. Même si je me débrouille très bien toute seule, parfois, j’aimerais feindre le contraire juste pour le plaisir que quelqu’un s’occupe de moi. Seulement, je ne veux pas rester avec un homme pour ça. Je ne veux pas devoir accepter des compromis et je n’arrive pas à renoncer à tout ce que j’ai.
Fabio Volo (One More Day)
Sans doute, l’amitié, l’amitié qui a égard aux individus, est une chose frivole, et la lecture est une amitié. Mais du moins c’est une amitié sincère, et le fait qu’elle s’adresse à un mort, à un absent, lui donne quelque chose de désintéressé, de presque touchant. C’est de plus une amitié débarrassée de tout ce qui fait la laideur des autres. Comme nous ne sommes tous, nous les vivants, que des morts qui ne sont pas encore entrés en fonctions, toutes ces politesses, toutes ces salutations dans le vestibule que nous appelons déférence, gratitude, dévouement et où nous mêlons tant de mensonges, sont stériles et fatigantes. De plus, – dès les premières relations de sympathie, d’admiration, de reconnaissance, – les premières paroles que nous prononçons, les premières lettres que nous écrivons, tissent autour de nous les premiers fils d’une toile d’habitudes, d’une véritable manière d’être, dont nous ne pouvons plus nous débarrasser dans les amitiés suivantes ; sans compter que pendant ce temps-là les paroles excessives que nous avons prononcées restent comme des lettres de change que nous devons payer, ou que nous paierons plus cher encore toute notre vie des remords de les avoir laissé protester. Dans la lecture, l’amitié est soudain ramenée à sa pureté première. Avec les livres, pas d’amabilité. Ces amis-là, si nous passons la soirée avec eux, c’est vraiment que nous en avons envie. Eux, du moins, nous ne les quittons souvent qu’à regret. Et quand nous les avons quittés, aucune de ces pensées qui gâtent l’amitié : Qu’ont-ils pensé de nous ? – N’avons-nous pas manqué de tact ? – Avons-nous plu ? – et la peur d’être oublié pour tel autre. Toutes ces agitations de l’amitié expirent au seuil de cette amitié pure et calme qu’est la lecture. Pas de déférence non plus ; nous ne rions de ce que dit Molière que dans la mesure exacte où nous le trouvons drôle ; quand il nous ennuie nous n’avons pas peur d’avoir l’air ennuyé, et quand nous avons décidément assez d’être avec lui, nous le remettons à sa place aussi brusquement que s’il n’avait ni génie ni célébrité. L’atmosphère de cette pure amitié est le silence, plus pur que la parole. Car nous parlons pour les autres, mais nous nous taisons pour nous-mêmes. Aussi le silence ne porte pas, comme la parole, la trace de nos défauts, de nos grimaces. Il est pur, il est vraiment une atmosphère. Entre la pensée de l’auteur et la nôtre il n’interpose pas ces éléments irréductibles, réfractaires à la pensée, de nos égoïsmes différents. Le langage même du livre est pur (si le livre mérite ce nom), rendu transparent par la pensée de l’auteur qui en a retiré tout ce qui n’était pas elle-même jusqu’à le rendre son image fidèle, chaque phrase, au fond, ressemblant aux autres, car toutes sont dites par l’inflexion unique d’une personnalité ; de là une sorte de continuité, que les rapports de la vie et ce qu’ils mêlent à la pensée d’éléments qui lui sont étrangers excluent et qui permet très vite de suivre la ligne même de la pensée de l’auteur, les traits de sa physionomie qui se reflètent dans ce calme miroir. Nous savons nous plaire tour à tour aux traits de chacun sans avoir besoin qu’ils soient admirables, car c’est un grand plaisir pour l’esprit de distinguer ces peintures profondes et d’aimer d’une amitié sans égoïsme, sans phrases, comme en soi-même.
Marcel Proust (Days of Reading (Penguin Great Ideas))
Il est dit et même consigné dans l'histoire de la musique encyclopédie de la pléiade mais aussi à cluj-napoca au numéro dix de la rue vasile alecsandri mon ami dr rudi schuller se fera une joie de traduire en hongrois allemand ou roumain pour ceux qui ne parlent pas français le passage sur les grands voyageurs qui prétendaient que les habitants des plus lointaines civilisations qui étaient totalement indifférents aux tam-tams des tribus voisines ne tendent l'oreille qu'à l'écoute de la musique de mozart [It is said and even recorded in the histoire de la musique encyclopédie de la pléiade but also in kolozsvár at number ten vasile alecsandri street my friend dr. rudi schuller will happily translate into hungarian german or romanian for those who don't speak french the part about the grand travelers les grands voyageurs who claimed that the inhabitants of the most godforsaken les plus lointaines civilizations who were totally indifferent to the tom-toms of neighboring tribes would perk up their ears only on hearing mozart's music] (p. 101, "All Souls' Days in Vienna")
Sándor Kányádi (Dancing Embers)
Moi Aussi I need to know you even as I never know my self that phantom ache of amputated innocence You, the stirrings of a curtain, dust settling on sepia cuckoo clocks covers obscuring Perhaps one day you will become a benign sentence an agency through which to be. Return
Sam Vaknin (Poetry of Healing and Abuse)
Celebrating Valentine's Day is like falling in love with Adelaide all over again.
Anthony T. Hincks
Falling in love with Melbourne is like celebrating Valentine's Day every day.
Anthony T. Hincks
Falling in love with Victoria is like celebrating Valentine's Day every day.
Anthony T. Hincks
Celebrating Valentine's Day is like falling in love with Sydney all over again.
Anthony T. Hincks
Celebrating Valentine's Day is like falling in love with the Outback all over again.
Anthony T. Hincks
Celebrating Valentine's Day is like falling in love with Victoria all over again.
Anthony T. Hincks
Celebrating Valentine's Day is like falling in love with Canberra all over again.
Anthony T. Hincks
Falling in love with Australia is like celebrating Valentine's Day every day.
Anthony T. Hincks
Over time I realised his meltdowns came when he thought he had done enough when in reality, he hadn’t. To my way of thinking, if you get done fair and square on the day you should take it on the chin, but Seb’s arrogance meant he simply couldn’t comprehend how it had gone wrong and would take it out on the team or, rather, want the team to do something about it.
Mark Webber (Aussie Grit)
So how about we stop putting on a show for everyone out here and go find ourselves a floating playpen?” He grinned. “Well, when you put it like that…” He leaned down, kissed her soundly, and tried not to let his thoughts stray to what came next. He’d exhausted himself with that the past three days and was thankful they were back to doing, not thinking. “I’d tell you to get a room, but I happen to know you already have one.” The sudden intrusion of a deep voice with an entirely different accent made Kerry jump, and it was only because Cooper already had his arms around her that he was able to pull her back before they both went in the drink. “Sorry,” Brodie said with a grin as he covered the last ten yards at the end of the pier, a small mutt racing down the docks behind him. “Didn’t mean to startle.” “So, an Irishman and an Aussie walk into a bar,” Kerry said, recovering quickly and teasing Grace’s husband as he stopped a few feet away.
Donna Kauffman (Starfish Moon (Brides of Blueberry Cove, #3))
She shielded her eyes from the sun, her truck keys dangling down the back of her free hand, as Cooper lowered the passenger window and leaned forward so he could see her. “G’day, Starfish. Need a lift?” She needed a lot of things. Hot coffee, sisters who weren’t nosy, a clear vision about what should be next on her life agenda. Being inside a small, sporty vehicle, trapped mere inches from Cooper Jax, even for the short ride down to Half Moon Harbor? That she definitely did not need. “I’m good, thanks. And can we retire the nickname? Please?” He’d begun calling her that after she’d regaled him with a steady string of childhood stories of life lived by the sea, and he’d commented that she seemed too big a fish for such a small pond. A starfish, as it were. She’d rolled her eyes at the very bad pun, but the nickname had stuck. Aussies were big on nicknames. And the honest truth of it was, she hadn’t minded hearing him call her that, even though it had been a joke, delivered as a ribbing, not an endearment. Now? Now she wasn’t sure how he meant it, or what it made her feel when he said it. Better to just bury it right, Ker? Like you do everything that makes you uncomfortable. She really needed to find a way to strangle her little voice. “I’ve got a meeting,” she went on, not giving him a chance to respond. He nodded to the basket in her arms. “Yes, I can see that. Demanding lot, laundry.” She glanced down, then back at him. “No, with my sisters. About Fiona’s wedding.” “Yes, I heard about it.” She didn’t ask how he could possible know that, or who he’d been talking to this time, because any person in town could have brought him up to speed on the goings-on about pretty much any person he wanted to know about. The downside to being home. One of the great things about being a wanderer was that folks only knew whatever parts of her story she opted to share with them. Cooper, she realized now, had already known more than pretty much anyone she’d met in her travels up to that point. God only knows what he’d learned in the twenty-four hours he’d been in the Cove. She didn’t want to examine how that made her feel either. “Three McCrae weddings in less than a year,” he commented, as if casually discussing the weather. Then he grinned. “Is it catching?
Donna Kauffman (Starfish Moon (Brides of Blueberry Cove, #3))
Les Américains ne sont pas plus violents par nature que n’importe quel autre peuple. Si leur société est aussi mortelle, c’est parce que les armes y sont très largement disponibles.
Gary Younge (Another Day in the Death of America: A Chronicle of Ten Short Lives)
Thanksgiving Day finally arrived. I remember feeling so proud to have my family meet my Aussie man. We had just eaten an epic feast of deviled eggs, turkey and stuffing, lots of gravy, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, and soft rolls with stacks of butter. We took a break before the desserts came out, and the menfolk headed into the living room to watch football. But Steve wandered back into the kitchen where I was helping to clear the dishes and clean up. He took the time to talk to each of my sisters and my mom, getting to know the whole family. I thought he was very considerate, because I knew instinctively that this wasn’t so easy for him. He was a bit shy, and totally out of his element. He had never visited the United States before, or been this serious about a girl. We had spent only a few days with each other, but both of us seemed to know that his visit was more than just a casual meeting. Being together felt more and more like destiny.
Terri Irwin (Steve & Me)
Maybe it was my condition, but I was even more sensitive about cruelty to wildlife. When we journeyed to New Zealand to protest whale hunts, we viewed a documentary about whales attacking the whaling ships, trying to defend the females and their young. Whales are like elephants of the sea. They have family structures, mannerisms, and habits that are similar to our own. In the midst of this very emotional work in Wellington, I felt the baby move for the first time. Soon the baby was dancing around inside me both day and night. All my checkups came back favorable, and the doctor said Steve was more than welcome to glove up and help deliver the baby when the time came. Until then, though, there was stacks of filming to be done. We filmed sharks just off the Queensland coast, near where Steve’s parents had retired. Some of the crew were typical Aussie blokes. As soon as I got on board and they saw that I was very obviously pregnant, they decided to embark on “Project Spew.” To attract sharks, they mixed up a large container of chum--a gory stew made of fish oil, blood, fish skeletons, and offal. The crew would pass it right underneath my nose in an effort to make me sick. I countered them by sitting down and eating lunch right next to the putrid-smelling chum container. I knew they couldn’t break me!
Terri Irwin (Steve & Me)
Masterclass for Humans (The Sonnet) Only the Native Americans are real Americans, Everybody else is an immigrant. Before you tell someone to go back to their country, Start by heading back to Britain yourself. Only Indigenous people are real Canadians, Kiwis, and Aussies, everybody else is an immigrant. Before you yell slurs at an immigrant of today, Start by heading back to Europe yourself. Turkey was transformed by one man, Upon the foundation of thoughts most rational. Before you bring back the days of fanaticism, Start by taking down the statues of Mustafa Kemal. India never had any organized religion, Brahmin barbarians peddled a myth to have control. Before you cremate a secular beacon into safron ashes, Wipe out all memories of Kabir, Ambedkar and Tagore. From discrimination to assimilation, That's how we walk the course of progress. Till every trace of intolerance is history, Keep on struggling against mindlessness.
Abhijit Naskar (Vande Vasudhaivam: 100 Sonnets for Our Planetary Pueblo)