Bayern Quotes

Right now I'd like all my troubles to stand in front of me in a straight line, and one by one I'd give each a black eye.

... If we don't tell strange stories, when something strange happens we won't believe it.

If we're mad, we're mad in large numbers, at least larger than yours.

She closed the book and put her cheek against it. There was still an odor of a library on it, of dust, leather, binding glue, and old paper, one book carrying the smell of hundreds.

When you get tired of worrying and mourning your horse and trying not to be afraid, tell me and I'll do it for you a while so you can shut your eyes and sleep peaceful.

All I've ever wanted was to be near you.

I, Geric-Sinath of Gerhard, declare that you're beautiful and you're perfect and I'll slay any man who tries to take you from my side. Goose girl, may I kiss you?

Yes, we'll yell, 'Help, help us, goose girl, and bring the terrifying legion of warrior geese'.

Its important to know stories. I felt the earth shift to make a place for you when you were born, and I came to tell you stories while you are young. And like me, you were born with a word on your tongue.

I'm Razo, a member of Bayern's Own," he said, stopping himself from adding "Loafing is just a hobby of mine." "Bayern's Own? But you're a child." Razo looked up to the sky. "I'm not a child, I'm just short.

I know I would crumble if I lost you.

We know it's all just daydreaming...But sometimes, it'd be nice just to hold something real in your hands that felt like a measure of your worth.

You saw my leg?" "How can a man help what he sees?" he said. "And, if I could add, you possess a very fine leg.

They laughed much harder than the memory was funny because it felt good to laugh.

Clearly she was expected to say something, but panic at having to speak stole the thoughts from her head.

...all things speak, in their way, don't they?

Razo hopped back up and adopted a posture that said he was completely unruffled, never had been, and in fact was ready to do something manly like lift boulders or swallow live worms.

They finished laughing and caught their breaths, and looked at each other, and Ani thought Geric looked at her too long, as though he forgot he was looking, as though he did not wish to do anything else. She looked back. Her heart took its time quieting down.

She was born Anidori-Kiladra Talianna Isilee, Crown Princess of Kildenree, and she did not open her eyes for three days.

I'm a terrible prince. I should put my kingdom first and everything else second, but your first. I want you by my side every second, but I know I would crumble if I lost you.

But in a country where you hang your dead up on walls and pride whether or not a man bears a javelin more than his character, how am I to persuade you out of a war? It would be suicide for Kildenree to war on Bayern and butchery for Bayern to attack Kildenree. If you don't believe me, then send me back. Or if you don't trust me to leave, I'll return to my little room on the west wall and tend your geese, and you can be sure that on my watch no thieves will touch my flock.

It was a pleasure, Enna, Finn, tree rat." "Did she just call you tree rat?

I'm sorry Finn. I'm a wooden-headed dummy.' Don't be so hard on yourself,' said Finn. 'You're just a straw-brained scarecrow.

No more crying. It's all wetness and no comfort at all.

My friends call me by my name." "You don't have any friends." "I don't want you to be my friend, Selia, or my servant, not now. I thought you were both. You have let me know I was wrong. So are you to treat me so. You are wrong.

You, what are you? The brat of lucky parents who were related to a childless king. There is no such thing as royal blood. I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.

And Isi always listened, never told Enna she had been foolish, never said hollow things like 'You'll be all right.' . . . Isi saw Enna's struggle and her sadness, and she understood.

I can see that one can never pay back Gilsa for the fear that she will give again.

Ah, now, don't cry over lost years and forgetfulness. The tales tell what they can. The rest is for us to learn..

Razo knew he was best at nothing, except maybe cramming two cherries into a single nostril.

But when she turned her back to the lights, she saw that the night was so dark...She could not see the stars. The world felt as high as the depthless night sky and deeper than she could know. She understood, suddenly and keenly, that she was too small to run away, and she sat on the damp ground and cried.

Isi, I’m trying to say that you’ve been… no, you’re so, you’re–” He stopped. "You are,” he said. His hand found hers, and he held her finger tightly, as though he did not dare to do any more than hold her one hand, and look at her, and breathe deeply.

Geric," she called. He turned back around. "What kind of flowers were they?" "I don't rightly know," he said. He made faltering gestures with his hands, forming their size and shape from the air. "They were yellow, and smallish, and had lots of petals." "Thank you," she said. "They were beautiful.

Razo was sorely tempted to assert that all was true and he'd lost his horns and tail in a tragic childhood accident

She answered by standing and kissing him first and held his cheeks and closed her eyes and felt sure as bones and deep as blood that she had found her place.

Oh, but I like my geese. Like cats, they can't be told what to do, and like dogs, they're loyal, and like people, they talk every chance they get.

Poor gosling. It hurts to be lost. And worse to be home with no kind of homecoming...I'll be lucky if I can do as well as you when all this's done, just a bit out of breath, a bit bruised and scratched, a bit wiser and sadder for it all.

Go on, son, you're not doing me any good by bleeding.

Wait, I want more green. I hope I did not imply I only wanted your colors. We can't turn a cold shoulder to green, and blue, and purple, for the sake of all ordered things, how can you dismiss purple? Celi, call Nom back and tell him of my need for purple!

We know it's all just daydreaming. In all likelihood, no one in this forest'll ever get a javelin, and I'll never see my mother's kingdom again, let alone be hailed by crowds as the jewel of Kildenree. Maybe it's vain to wish for it. But sometimes, it'd be nice just to hold something real in your hands that felt like a measure of your worth. Right Finn?

You've been quiet lately...but it's not so much the quiet as something inside the quiet.

Does anyone smell roasting meat?' said Razo, 'Oh, wait, it's just Geric's face.

Ani felt a stirring, a hope, a winged thing waking up in her chest and brushing her heart with it's feathers.

Enna leaned back her head and laughed at the sky. 'Of course he wasn't! Who could kill Razo?

Some people are born with the first word of a language resting on their tongue though it may take some time before they can taste it.

I hate them," Enna said. "Whoever is responsible for making me sleep outside without pillows, I hate them." Mmm-hmmm...," Dasha said. Rin had noticed that the Tiran girl often had trouble remembering how to speak in the morning. If Finn were here," Enna continued to mumble as she rewrapped her head cloth, "he'd let me rest my head on his chest at night. Or leg. Or arm. And then he'd find whoever was responsible for the whole sleeping outside with no pillows situation and hold him while I kicked him in the shins.

I'm the sheen on water, Rin thought. I'm a looking glass. I'm not real.

The to Cathal was battered and only one wagon wide, with swells of hard earth where mud had frozen during cold ad rainy seasons. Enna tripped often, and cursed each time she tripped, until Dasha said, "Enna, you might watch your language." Enna grimaced. "I was. You should hear my thoughts.

Years ago, before this estate was generously and unwillingly turned over to the crown, the lord here was a genuine dimwit. He had a minister stashed behind his throne to whisper clever things to say.

She touched the healthy folds of skin around the baby's neck, wrists, and thighs, the dark lines crying for life made in his forehead, and thought how people start with wrinkles and end with wrinkles, grow into their skin and then live to grow out of it again.

Her smile was peculiar - it made her nose wrinkle, not as though she smelled something unpleasant, but more that she was so amused, her whole face wanted to be a part of the smile.

No one had ever called her wild before. She wanted to be wild now, for him. Wild seemed more enticing then a bowl of berries.

Saying my story makes me want to change it, make it sound pretty the way I do with the stories I tell the workers. I'd like it to have a beginning as grand as a ball and an ending in a whisper, like a mother tucking in a child for sleep.

...'Goose girl, may I kiss you?' She answered by... kissing him first.

She dismounted, grabbed Enna's hand so tightly that she drew blood with her fingernails, walked straight into the nearest cottage, and plopped down on a bed. Enna nodded to the startled cottage dwellers. It's the queen, you see," said Enna. "She's going to have a baby in your house. You don't mind?

The three girls were sitting and lying beside her, holding one another, weeping, their arms and legs and hair tangled like the roots of close trees, sobs shaking them like leaves in a high wind.

He looked at her, and the clarity of his dark eyes struck her heart with a sensation of a wound touched.

Sometimes it seems my identity’s a matter of opinion

How could you miss it? Just the sound of her voice makes my chest feel tight, my face gets hot and my mouth goes dry whenever she's near. It's getting so bad, all I have to do is see her and I'm already thinking, 'What does she want? What can I do for her?' She's got some power over me, there's no question, and what else could it be? ~Razo

Her eyes were distant, and she seemed to be listening to that voice that first told her the story, a mother, sister, or aunt. Then her voice, like her singing, cut through the crickets and crackling fire.

He'd followed Dasha once before and remembered which door was hers. He knocked, peered inside, then jumped in and shut the door, quiet as brushing two feathers together. He smiled at his own stealth, then swaggered right into a chair, banging it against the wall. You oaf. He cut short his swagger and begin to move with exaggerated sneakiness. There was a certain pleasure in that, too.

Am I the moss on your bark, then?" Ani asked. Enna grabbed her around the waist and shook her affectionately. "You're the mossiest girl I know.

Her nightmare clung to her like the smell of smoke to cloth.

Finn always called it Enna's Stream. He tended to refer to most anything as belonging to her--Enna's Meadow, Enna's Mountain. When he referred to Yasid as Enna's Kingdom, she said, "Isn't that your heart?" Finn smiled and kissed her hand. Isi rolled her eyes. "Oh you two are impossible." Enna laughed. "This coming from the girl who calls her husband 'sweet little bunny boy'?" Isi blushed. "That was just once.

Finn, do you see the lias—whatever, the orange-haired girl?” Razo Gestured ahead. “Do you think she’s pretty?” Finn glanced Dasha’s way, then returned his attention ot his horse. “She’s all right.” “Really? Just all right?” Finn shrugged. Razo rolled his eyes. “What am I saying? He doesn’t think any girl is pretty but Enna.” “Are there any girls but Enna?” Finn called back. “There’d better be.

The first building she reached appeared to be an old barn. Only one young guard stood before its bolted door, staring at her with wide eyes, holding up his sword in defense, She heated his sword and he dropped it, his expression barely changing, as if he had been expecting that. She held up her two swords to his throat, but they were two heavy, so she dropped one and held the other with both hands. "Where are the two Bayern boys kept?" The soldier shook his head. BURN HIM, prompted the fire. The excitement of burning was simmering in her, heating her up for more action.

Ani told them all...telling more than needed telling, the stories clarifying and unifying themselves in her mind as she let them spill out of her mouth.

We know it's all just daydreaming... But sometimes, it'd be nice just to hold something real in your hands that felt like a measure of your worth.

Rin slept inside the oak’s thought. Its own memories of weather and growth continued to hum, and like a pond, its stillness reflected back herself.

Finn leaped from his horse to greet Enna, and she entwined herself into him, their arms around each other, their faces close. Thoug they did not kiss, Rin thought that the way they looked at each other was even more intimate. 'Let's get married,' Enna was saying with yearning in her voice. 'Please, let's get married right now.' Finn put his face into her neck and whispered something that made her hum.

Dasha!' Rin yelled, 'Dasha!' A face looked up, then two. They started walking toward her, then running. Dasha was in front, her eyes set on Razo, her face caught in an expression of desperate hope. 'Razo,' she said, .... 'Razo, it had better be you. If it just looks like you, I am going to kill you. It had better-' He'd reached her by then. They embraced, and he swung her around, her legs lifting in the air, her tunic swirling...Then Dasha was kissing Razo's face and crying and smiling and declaring all his perfections. 'Well, this isn't half-bad,' said Razo, 'I think I'll die more often.' Dasha embraced him again and squeezed until Razo had to admit he was injured. 'Love the lips, not the ribs,' he said, and pulled her into a long kiss.

Razo wasn't good at anything except maybe cramming two cherries up one nostril.

She thought now it was time to be tested, to make decisions and find her own roads, to stop falling where she was told to fall and to stand only when allowed to stand.

Geschlecht der Bayern soll aus Armenien eingewandert sein, in welchem Noah aus dem Schiffe landete, als ihm die Taube den grünen Zweig gebracht hatte.

..giving into despair was like eating poisonous berries to keep from feeling hungry.

His brothers could tease him about his height or the number of scars he was collecting on his body. He could take the joke when they said he would die having never won a fair wrestling match. But the topic of Bettin still smarted too much. He'd imagined being with her always. Now when he closed his eyes, he had trouble imagining anything else.

It's good to cry a bit, 'cause that helps us get through the rough parts. And the winter is though, there's no doubt. But we just hang on until spring when that ache will be all but swallowed up.

That year, when the trees burned the fire of late summer into their leaves and the ground mist was a ghost of the river, long and wet and cold, the aunt looked from her windows to the walls around her and imagined another winter inside them. She began to see the world as a bird sees bars, and she scratched her arms beneath her sleeves.

I think so. There are so many tales, so strange and beautiful and perfect. They are not what are real, but better. I thought I had something that was magic once, but I lost it, and now I don’t think it was at all.” She touched her chest where the handkerchief had been and frowned. “I wish there was magic. If all the tales were true, then maybe they could tell me what I’m doing, and what I am to do now.” “Ah, now, don’t cry over lost years and forgetfulness. The tales tell what they can. The rest is for us to learn. The question is, are we smart enough to figure for ourselves? Now, that’s what I’d like to know.

It hurts to be lost. And worse to be home with no kind of homecoming...I'll be lucky if I can do as well as you when all this's done, just a bit out of breath, a bit bruised and scratched, a bit wiser and sadder for it all.

I read that a gentleman gives a lady flowers, and I thought maybe I'm not a gentleman, but no reason not to treat you like a lady.

His ears were buzzing fiercely, as though he’d decided to take up intracranial beekeeping.

Ingridan was an ancient city. Memory ached in its stone arches, crept down its narrow alleys, sluiced through its seven rivers. And its newest memory still burned, raw and sore — a failed war, a nation shamed, and an army dishonored.

These stories had intrigued her with their strange mix of violence and love, so unlike the distant, passionless affection of her own mother. She thought, she hoped, that the handkerchief was something fantastic, like a piece of a tale, but real, and just for her, a symbol of the real, hidden love of her mother.

If it had been a color, it might have been green. If it had touched her ears, it might have sounded rhythmic, like the creak of a rocking chair or drone of a bee. If it had a scent, it might have been sweet and drowsy, like fresh pine on the fire.

The boar, the stag, and the eagle met on the last craggy peak of the world, look down, and sighed at what they saw. The boar was a king, and he said, "There is not enough people." The stag was a poet, and he said, "There is not enough beauty." The eagle was a cleric, and her said, "There is not enough mystery." Then the wolf, arriving late, looked up instead of down and said, "There is not enough hunger," and promptly ate them all. If the boar was king, the stag was poet, and the eagle was cleric, then what was the wolf?

El origen de estas dudas no es la inseguridad ni el miedo a lo desconocido: es la búsqueda de la perfección.

Ideas belong to everyone and I have stolen as many as I could.

Se aprende mirando y pensando.

Ma had six sons. The eldest was big like his father, the middle boys were middling. By the time Razo was born, all the family’s largeness must have been used up.

I’ve said that all along. Sick. In. The. Head.

We see the surface, blue or silver or gray, and waves hitting the shore. But we know there's so much we can't see, so what we love about it becomes in part what we imagine it is hiding.

[Razo] knocked, peered inside, then jumped and shut the door, quiet as brushing two feathers together. He smiled at his own stealth, then swaggered right into a chair, banging it against the wall. You oaf. He cut short his swagger and began to move with exaggerated sneakiness.

Then Rin was hugging him. Relief and joy swelled inside her till she thought she would burst. "Uh . . . ," Razo said, patting her head as if she might be crazy. "You were dead," she mumbled against his chest. "I was? Well, I wish someone had told me. Would've been nice to relax on my back for a while. Um, how'd I die?

Außerdem mag der Berliner die Leute von außerhalb nicht so besonders. Die Brandenburger sind ihm zu ländlich, die Hamburger zu städtisch, die Rheinländer zu fröhlich, die Bayern zu griesgrämig. Mit den Sachsen verbindet ihn eine jahrhundertealte Feindschaft, die beide Seiten liebevoll pflegen. So stehen Berliner Fußballfans gerne volltrunken auf irgendeinem Bahnhof und brüllen lauthals in Richtung des vermeintlichen Gegners den beliebten Schlachtgesang: "Ihr seid nicht aus Berlin, nicht aus Berlin, nicht aus Berlin!" In Wirklichkeit ist dies vielleicht einer der friedlichsten Fußballgesänge überhaupt. Die Sänger denken "Ja!" und sind zufrieden. Aber die Besungenen denken auch "Ja!" und sind womöglich noch zufriedener.

How could you miss it? Just the sound of her voice makes my chest feel tight, and my face gets hot and my mouth goes dry whenever she's near. It's getting so bad, all I have to do is see her and I'm already thinking, what does she want? What can I do for her? She's got some power over me, there's no question, and what else could it be? There was a heavy pause, then Enna burst out laughing. Finn smiled at his boots.

1. Linus Malthus "Winning is just the snow that came down yesterday"   Founder of total football. Tactical revolutionary who created the foundation of modern football  저희는 7가지 철칙을 바탕으로 거래를 합니다. 고객들과 지키지못할약속은 하지않습니다 1.정품보장 2.총알배송 3.투명한 가격 4.편한 상담 5.끝내주는 서비스 6.고객님 정보 보호 7.깔끔한 거래 [경영항목] 엑스터시,신의눈물,lsd,아이스,캔디,대마초,떨,마리화나,프로포폴,에토미데이트,해피벌륜등많은제품판매하고있습니다 믿고 주문해주세요~저희는 제품판매를 고객님들과 신용과신뢰의 거래로 하고있습니다. 제품효과 못보실 그럴일은 없지만 만의하나 효과못보시면 저희가 1차재발송과 2차 환불까지 약속합니다 텔레【KC98K】카톡【ACD5】라인【SPR331】 The only winner in the international major tournament, Holland, the best soccer line of football 2. Sir Alex Ferguson Mr.Man Utd   The Red Boss The best director in soccer history (most of the past soccer coach rankings are the top picks) It is the most obvious that shows how important the director is in football.   Manchester United's 27-year-old championship, the spiritual stake of all United players and fans, Manchester United itself 3. Theme Mourinho "I do not pretend to be arrogant, because I'm all true, I am a European champion, I am not one of the cunning bosses around, I think I am Special One." The Special One The cost of counterattack after a player Charming world with charisma and poetry The director who has the most violent career of soccer directors 4. Pep Guardiola A man who achieved the world's first and only six treasures beyond treble. Make a team with a page of football history 5. Ottmar Hitzfeld Borussia Dortmund and Bayern are the best directors in Munich history. Legendary former football manager of Germany Sir Alex Ferguson's rival

Turno para Jérôme Boateng, a quien el entrenador considera un talento por pulir. A lo largo de toda la temporada el trabajo de Guardiola con Boateng alcanzará momentos obsesivos a fin de perfeccionar tres puntos débiles: mantener la posición en la línea defensiva, defender con contundencia y no perder la concentración.

Eran las 10 de la noche y Pep estaba solo en la ciudad deportiva del Barça. No quedaba nadie, ni siquiera sus ayudantes, solo él en un despacho iluminado de manera tenue. Imaginó a Messi moviéndose libremente por aquel enorme espacio vacío del estadio Bernabéu, a la espalda de los mediocentros madridistas y encarando en solitario a Metzelder y Cannavaro, petrificados sobre la línea del área, dudando si ir a por el delantero argentino. Tan clara vio la jugada que levantó el teléfono. No llamó a ninguno de sus analistas, ni a Xavi, el cerebro del equipo. Llamó directamente a Messi: «Leo, soy Pep, tengo algo importante, muy importante. Ven. Ahora. Ya», le dijo. A las diez y media de la noche, Leo Messi, de 21 años, golpeó suavemente la puerta del despacho de Pep. El entrenador le enseñó el vídeo y detuvo la imagen mostrándole la zona vacía que a partir del día siguiente iba a ser suya: la zona Messi, la del falso 9. «Leo, mañana en Madrid vas a empezar en la banda, como siempre. Pero si te hago una indicación te vas a la espalda de los mediocentros y te mueves por esta zona que te acabo de enseñar. Es lo mismo que hicimos en septiembre pasado en Gijón», le indicó. En Gijón, el 21 de septiembre de 2008, con el agua al cuello tras haber perdido el primer partido de liga ante el Numancia y empatado el segundo contra el también modesto Racing de Santander, Guardiola se jugaba su porvenir como entrenador del Barça. Decidió mandar a Eto’o a la banda derecha y jugar con Messi en la zona del falso 9, tal como el joven argentino había jugado muchas veces en su edad de cadete. Venció el Barça por goleada (1-6) y empezó la marcha triunfal de Pep. Siete meses más tarde, el entrenador rescataba la misma idea y se la explicaba en persona al protagonista: «Leo, cuando Xavi o Andrés se salten la línea y te pasen el balón, te vas directo a portería, a por Casillas». Fue un secreto entre ambos. Nadie más del Barça supo lo que Pep había transmitido a Messi aquella noche del primer día de mayo, salvo Tito Vilanova al día siguiente, ya en el hotel de concentración. Minutos antes de empezar el partido del 2 de mayo, Guardiola llamó aparte a Xavi e Iniesta y les dijo: «Si veis a Leo entre líneas y por el centro, no lo dudéis: pasadle el balón. Será como en Gijón». Aquel 2 de mayo de 2009, el Barça aplastó al Real Madrid por 2-6, Messi se convirtió en falso 9 y Pep sonrió, feliz.

because I read that a gentleman gives a lady flowers, and I thought maybe I’m not a gentleman, but no reason not to treat you like a lady