Carlisle Quotes

I tried to concentrate on the angel's voice instead. "Bella, please! Bella, listen to me, please, please, please, Bella, please!" he begged. Yes, I wanted to say. Anything. But I couldn't find my lips. "Carlisle!" the angel called, agony in his perfect voice. "Bella, Bella, no, oh please, no, no!" And the angel was sobbing tearless, broken sobs. The angel shouldn't weep, it was wrong. I tried to find him, to tell him everything was fine, but the water was so deep, it was pressing on me, and I couldn't breathe.

It's not your fault," Carlisle comforted me with a chuckle. "It could happen to anyone." "Could," I repeated. "But it usually just happens to me.

I ached for the difference between Carlisle and me - that he could touch her so gently, without fear, knowing he would never harm her.

Show me the man you honor and I will know what kind of man you are.

And on far-off Earth, Dr. Carlisle Perera had as yet told no one how he had wakened from a restless sleep with the message from his subconscious still echoing in his brain: The Ramans do everything in threes.

My old mind hadn’t been capable of holding this much love. My old heart had not been strong enough to bear it. Maybe this was the part of me that I’d brought forward to be intensified in my new life. Like Carlisle’s compassion and Esme’s devotion. I would probably never be able to do anything interesting or special like Edward, Alice, and Jasper could do. Maybe I would just love Edward more than anyone in the history of the world had ever loved anyone else. I could live with that.

Carlisle has a theory...he believes that we all bring something of our strongest human traits with us into the next life, where they are intensified - like our minds, and our senses.

In my head, Carlisle’s kind eyes did not judge me. I knew that he would forgive me for this horrible act that I would do. Because he loved me. Because he thought I was better than I was. And he would still love me, even as I now proved him wrong.

If you really believed that you'd lost your soul, then when I found you in Volterra, you would have realized immediately what was happening, instead of thinking we were both dead together. But you didn't―you said 'Amazing. Carlisle was right,'" I reminded him, triumphant. "There's hope in you, after all." For once, Edward was speechless. "So let's both just be hopeful, all right?" I suggested. "Not that it matters. If you stay, I don't need heaven." He got up slowly, and came to put his hand on either side of my face as he stared into my eyes. "Forever," he vowed, still a little staggered. "That's all I'm asking for," I said, and stretched up on my toes so that I could press my lips to his.

I'd never understood how Carlisle was able to do that - ignore the blood of his patients in order to treat them. Wouldn't the constant temptation be so distracting, so dangerous? But now, I could see how, if you were focusing on something else hard enough, the temptation was be nothing at all.

Men were good for one thing only. Killing spiders. Other than that, I was on my own. It was sad though. Where was the chivalry of yesteryear?

Anything that inspires addiction or obsession - substances, entertainment, beauty, secrecy - is dangerous in that it can lead to isolation, self-absorption, and disconnection, to paralyzed stasis: an immobility that gathers like a force.

Carlisle nodded absently, still looking over the X-rays. "Good idea. Hmm." I looked to see what had his interest. Look at all the healed contusions! How many times did her mother drop her? Carlisle laughed to himself at his joke.

Well, that was embarrassing. There was nothing wrong with talking to the voices in my head--unless everyone else was listening in.

Mr. Carlisle became brisk. "Baby," he said, as Napoleon might have said to one of his Marshals when instructing him in his latest plan of campaign . . .

Se Carlisle era a alma da nossa família, Esme era o coração. Ele era um líder que merecia ser seguido; ela transformava aquela liderança em um ato de amor.

In a patch of silver the Rev. Carlisle stopped and raised his face to the full moon, where it hung desolately, agonizingly bright - a dead thing, watching the dying earth.

If my life were a book, I would have masking tape holding my hinges together. My pages would be loose, my edges tattered and my boards exposed, the front flyleaf torn and the leather mottled and moth-eaten. I'd have to take myself apart and put myself back together, as any good book restoration expert would do.

I've never been to veterinary school.

Jacob caught my arm with a shivering hand. "Please, Bella. I'm begging." His dark eyes were glistening with tears. A lump filled my throat. "Jake, I have to―" "You don't, though. You really don't. You could stay here with me. You could stay alive. For Charlie. For me." The engine of Carlisle's Mercedes purred; the rhythm of the thrumming spiked when Alice revved it impatiently. I shook my head, tears spattering from my eyes with the sharp motion. I pulled my arm free, and he didn't fight me. "Don't die Bella," he choked out. "Don't go. Don't." What if I never saw him again? The thought pushed me past the silent tears; a sob broke out from my chest. I threw my arms around his waist and hugged for one too-short moment, burying my tear-wet face against his chest. He put his big hand on the back of my hair, as if to hold me here. "Bye, Jake." I pulled his hand from my hair, and kissed his palm. I couldn't bear to look at his face. "Sorry," I whispered.

Jasper followed Alice down the stairs, not racing but not moving cautiously like Carlisle and Esme, either. There was no need for him to put on a show. Everything he did seemed natural and right. In truth, he was laying it on a little thick. I gave him a sardonic look, and he grinned at me, then stopped by the newel post, leaving what might have felt like an odd distance between himself and the rest of us, but of course it couldn't feel odd if he didn't want it to.

After swimming to France, Carlisle went to some universities, where he fell in love with medicine. He believed that by helping sick people, he could make up for some of the horrible things vampires have done. Maybe this is why Angelina Jolie adopts all those kids! It all makes sense. She must be a vampire. She has the sexy good looks, the overly dramatic attitude, and I've never seen her sleep or eat. Case closed.

You don’t ever love anyone more or less than another, you love them differently.

Ladies: There are some men who will listen to all of your desires simply to use them to control you. #LearnToDiscern Listen to what he does, Watch what he says and avoid the heartbreak.

Harvard coach Bill Reid would later credit Teddy Roosevelt with saving football. But words in a rule book are one thing. Someone had to show the nation a new way to play the game. The Carlisle Indians did that.

I think the hope has always been that you see what you see, and you take us anyway, for who we are,” the Rev says. “Not that we all go around pretending we’re the same. I don’t see how that helps anybody.” Carlisle

By the time you get to be my age it's like you're having breakfast every fifteen minutes.

Books have the same enemies as people: fire, humidity, animals, weather, and their own content.

Over the years after my return to Carlisle and Esme, as I struggled to relearn all the discipline I'd abandoned, I came to the conclusion that Siobhan might not know anything greater than the call of blood, but I had been born to something better. And now, the words that had once haunted me, once driven me, came back with surprising force. The greatest joy of this life.

I'd always envied Carlisle's perfect control but, at the same time, believed it was impossible for me to duplicate. I realized now that I'd chosen the lazy way, the path of least resistance, admiring him greatly, but never putting in the effort to become more like him. This crash course in restraint that Bella was teaching me might have been less fraught I I'd worked harder to improve in the last seven decades.

In this world we're just beginning to understand the miracle of living.

I've never been to veterinarian school.

Books have the same enemies as people: fire, humidity, animals, weather, and their own content.   —Paul Valéry

Se Carlisle era l’anima della famiglia, Esme ne era il cuore.

One thing is certain in this life: loving Vivian Carlisle would never, ever go out of style.

Breuning drove. Dudley sat up front Carlisle sat in back, with three sawed-off shotguns.

We thought we were invincible and Dominic proved us all wrong,” - Jesse Carlisle

He'd once explained that when he was a boy his very proper parents had forbidden him and his brothers to curse in the house so 'feather buckets' was the young boys coded way of saying 'f*ck it

Believe in the value of others. Carlisle said, “A great man shows his greatness by the way he treats the little man.” The value you place on people determines whether you are a motivator or a manipulator of men.

I had to say it gave me a warm feeling to picture Meredith Winslow spending twenty years or so in an ill fitting orange jumpsuit, cozying up to a great big girl named Beulah

Many of the world’s problems would be solved if people would just shut up and pass the cupcakes.

An artist can try and pretend he is not following rules, but let's remember that nature itself provides rules. Gravity for instance.

Men were good for one thing only. Killing spiders.

Se abrirmos exceções para nos protegermos, arriscamos algo muito mais importante: a essência do que somos.

If there are trust issues during the dating period, marriage is not going to solve it! #Tip

Never allow your game to be played by someone else’s rules. The game you create is the reality you wish to live and that will be the love you do or do not endure.

Vivian Carlisle happened to her, like an avalanche or tsunami, as sudden and unforgiving as natural disaster. That was the thing about nature, though. It was frightening, dangerous, unpredictable–yes, all that. It was also inspiring. Even Beautiful.

Ah babe, I love you but I’d rather take a bullet than date you,” Jake said teasingly, adding softly, “We both are too fucked up to date each other and we love each other enough not to put each other through that hell.” – Jake Carlisle to Stephanie Carovella.

When we got home to Carlisle, I put my Mets hat in my closet, ignoring Lou's endearing request that we wear the hats to match. I didn't want to look exactly like Lou. Two more Asian kids in New York baseball caps. It's how they already saw us- we just had to look at the movies.

We are going to win our freedom because both the sacred heritage of our nation and the eternal will of the Almighty God are embodied in our echoing demands. So however difficult it is during this period, however difficult it is to continue to live with the agony and the continued existence of racism, however difficult it is to live amidst the constant hurt, the constant insult and the constant disrespect, I can still sing we shall overcome. We shall overcome because the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends towards justice. We shall overcome because Carlisle is right. "No lie can live forever." We shall overcome because William Cullen Bryant is right. "Truth crushed to earth will rise again." We shall overcome because James Russell Lowell is right. "Truth forever on the scaffold, wrong forever on the throne."   Yet that scaffold sways the future. We shall overcome because the Bible is right.  "You shall reap what you sow." With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to speed up the day when all of God's children all over this nation - black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old negro spiritual, "Free at Last, Free at Last, Thank God Almighty, We are Free At Last.

So I didn’t agree with my father’s particular brand of faith. But never, in the nearly four hundred years now since I was born, have I ever seen anything to make me doubt whether God exists in some form or the other. Not even the reflection in the mirror.” Carlisle Cullen, Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight

The tents were being let down, the banners waved. The cheers which now began, round after round, were like drumfire or thunder, rolling around the turrets of Carlisle. All the field, and all the people in the field, and all the towers of the castle, seemed to be jumping up and down like the surface of a lake under rain. In the middle, quite forgotten, her [Gueneviere's] lover was kneeling by himself. This lonely and motionless figure knew a secret which was hidden from the others. The miracle was that he had been allowed to do a miracle. "And ever," says Malory, "Sir Lancelot wept, as he had been a child that had been beaten.

Does this make me your muse?” His voice was a low, luscious tone that rippled through her… “In a way, I guess it does.” She took a step back, she needed air. Being around him, so close, made it too difficult to breathe. “Maybe you’ll be mine.

I will. See you later, and thanks again.” Before Carlisle had a chance to leave out of the window she leaned over and kissed him, nothing ostentatious, just sweet and sensitive. He took no time in hesitating. He reached his arm out and pulled her body close to his. He pressed them together and let his mouth open hers, his tongue slipped inside, and he stole a few more moments of sweetness with her before slipping out of her window and walking down the street, into the distance and eventually out of sight.

Carlisle wondered if it was still possible for him to live alongside civilization and yet be somewhat apart from it. Find a slice of quiet in the layers of noise, conduct a rain into the noise now and then for some work, take the gold and run like hell back to the quiet place....Flight was no good. You couldn't escape it, whatever 'it' was.

In the neighboring town of Carlisle, Lister had observed sewage disposers cleanse their waste with a cheap, sweet-smelling liquid containing carbolic acid. Lister began to apply carbolic acid paste to wounds after surgery. (That he was applying a sewage cleanser to his patients appears not to have struck him as even the slightest bit unusual.) In

So how's the putrid pile of caca doing?

A career takes more than talent. It takes character

She wore leopard-skin leggings, a tight black turtleneck sweater and sparkly red heels. I don't make this stuff up.

When you live among piranhas, you find truth and goodness an asset.

I’m into you, Gina.” He studied her face, her parted lips, and then pulled his gaze away. “But we can never be together.

You have to be an independent thinker in markets to be successful because the consensus is built into the price. You have to have a view that’s different from the consensus.

Until you have experienced the true love of God, you will continue to accept his or her version of love and call it faith. #ChooseToWin

Richard Carlisle,’ he said with a cheerful smile as I rose to shake it.

Everything is upon a great scale upon this continent. The rivers are immense, the climate violent in heat and cold, the prospects magnificent, the thunder and lightning tremendous. The disorders incident to the country make every constitution tremble. Our own blunders here, our misconduct, our losses, our disgraces, our ruin, are on a great scale. —LORD CARLISLE,

Come on-I'll see you back to your room and the estimable Martha." She put her hand in his and let him draw her to her feet. "Tomorrow...don't worry," he murmured, as he ushered her back through the darker side of the snug. "I'll be waiting in Carlisle to fall in behind the coach when you go past." Through the dimness he met her eyes. "I won't lose you." Her lips softly curved. "I didn't imagine you would.

Carlisle says Siobhan's super power was the ability to do whatever the hell she wanted. I swear, that's what Carlisle says. Her super power was the ability to will something into existence. Siobhan wanted the vampire Maggie to stick around with her and Liam, and, POOF, Maggie did, all because Siobhan wanted it. Dr. Cullen theorizes that Bella has a similar power. She's not acting like a typical newborn vampire because Bella decided not to be a typical newborn vampire. That thud you heard was my brain trying to make a run for it and slamming into my skull. Also, you may hear soft weeping. I'm still crying.

Blue is blue and must be that but yellow is none the worse for it: hearing only with ears seeing only with eyes feeling only with fingertips and this and that creeps away never having been known by men to whom it would not have mattered anyway. Stand easy children for God is good and speaks softly to all men.

Albert Graeme It was an English ladye bright, (The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall) And she would marry a Scottish knight, For Love will still be lord of all. Blithely they saw the rising sun When he shone fair on Carlisle wall; But they were sad ere day was done, Though Love was still the lord of all. Her sire gave brooch and jewel fine, Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall; Her brother gave but a flask of wine, For ire that Love was lord of all. For she had lands both meadow and lea, Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, For he swore her death, ere he would see A Scottish knight the lord of all. That wine she had not tasted well (The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall) When dead, in her true love's arms, she fell, For Love was still the lord of all! He pierced her brother to the heart, Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, So perish all would true love part That Love may still be lord of all! And then he took the cross divine, Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, And died for her sake in Palestine; So Love was still the lord of all. Now all ye lovers, that faithful prove, (The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall) Pray for their souls who died for love, For Love shall still be lord of all! -- Canto 6

I felt disoriented. Didn't I already know my gift? I had my super-self-control that had allowed me to skip right over the horrifying newborn year. Vampires only had one extra ability at most, right? Or had Edward been correct in the beginning? Before Carlisle had suggested that my self-control could be something beyond the natural, Edward had thought my restraint was just a product of good preparation- focus and attitude, he'd declared. Which one had been right? Was there more I could do? A name and a category for what I was?" "Can you project?" Kate asked interestedly. "Project?" I asked. "Push it out from yourself," Kate explained. "Shield someone besides yourself." ... I wished fervently that I might be good at this projecting thing, too, like I was somehow mysteriously good at all the other aspects of being a vampire. My human life had not prepared me for things that came naturally, and I couldn't make myself trust this aptitude to last. It felt like I had never wanted anything so badly before this: to be able to protect what I loved.

I’d be careful about watching me too closely.” “Why?” She smiled to match the sassy tone in her voice. The smirk that had lingered on his face dropped away, replaced by a serious expression. “You might not like what you see.

—Entonces, ¿no hay esperanza? —susurró Carlisle. La voz no delataba miedo alguno, sólo resolución y resignación. —Siempre hay esperanza —contesté en voz baja. Eso podría ser verdad, dije para mis adentros—. Sólo conozco mi propio destino. Edward me tomó de la mano, sabedor de que estaba incluido en él. No hacía falta precisar que me refería a los dos cuando hablaba de «mi destino». Nosotros eramos dos partes de un todo. • Argucias, pág. 788

You must hate witches now.” He pulled his gaze from her and stared back at the constellations. “I thought I did.” He leaned toward her and took a lock of her hair, watching it as he ran it through his fingers. “Until I met you.

Can I see it yet?” Gina shook her head with wide eyes. “Not until it’s done. I hate letting anyone see my work until it’s finished. “Why?” A curious glint twinkled from his eyes. “Uh, uh. I don’t know,” she stammered. “It’s not ready to be seen. Naked, I guess. Unfinished.” “I let you hear a few chords of my music. Unfinished.” His voice dropped to a dangerously sexy tone. “Naked.

She was every Cora she'd ever been: Cora X, Cora Kaufmann, Cora Carlisle. She was an orphan on a roof, a lucky girl on a train, a dearly loved daughter by chance. She was a blushing bride of seventeen, a sad and stoic wife, a loving mother, an embittered chaperone, and a daughter pushed away. She was a lover and a lewd cohabitator, a liar and a cherished friend, and aunt and a kindly grandmother, a champion of the fallen, and a late-in-coming fighter for reason over fear. Even in those final hours, quiet and rocking, arriving and departing, she knew who she was.

I argue that if aspiring teachers from these programs were challenged to teach with an acknowledgment of, and respect for, the local knowledge of urban communities, and were made aware of how the models for teaching and recruitment they are a part of reinforce a tradition that does not do right by students, they could be strong assets for urban communities. However, because of their unwillingness to challenge the traditions and structures from which they were borne, efforts that recruit teachers for urban schools ensure that Carlisle-type practices continue to exist.

It is important for a woman to first, understand her man and his emotional limits. She must then not force him to communicate in a level that is foreign to him but rather in a way that brings meaning to the relationship. This means slowly building on a foundation while slowly increasing communication lines. The more a woman pushes the more a man will pull. Knowing a man’s emotional limits will allow a woman to intentionally assert her communication needs, gracefully.

I bought new lingerie today I wanted to show you, but I didn’t get a chance with all that happened.” “You’ll have to return tomorrow night then…. Maybe we’ll order an entire catalog.” His smile and the glint of mischievousness in his eyes reflected lascivious thoughts. “You can model all the outfits you’d like for me.

There is a long history, in the U.S. and elsewhere, of removing children as a means of political control. If this strikes a nerve with you—as I hope it does—please learn more about the many instances, both past and ongoing, in which children have been taken from their families: the separations of enslaved families, government boarding schools for Indigenous children (such as that in Carlisle, PA), the inequities built into the foster care system, the separations of migrant families still occurring at the U.S.’s southern border, and beyond. Much more attention needs to be brought to this subject, but Laura Briggs’s Taking Children: A History

I make this point to stress that the brilliance of neoindigenous youth cannot be appreciated by educators who are conditioned to perceive anything outside their own ways of knowing and being as not having value. This is similar to white teachers at the Carlisle School who sought to ban the language and customs of their indigenous students and replace them with “American culture.” The University of Minnesota Human Rights Center describes this process as the silencing of voice and history that is part of the indigenous experience. I argue that enduring this silencing process is something that both the indigenous and neoindigenous have in common, and should be used as a way to connect them.

It seems that the uglier the stock, the better the return, even when the valuations are comparable.

By all accounts, we're damned regardless. But I hope,maybe foolishly, we'll get some measure of credit for trying

My heart has found a new place to call home. Wherever you are.

An older witch once told me about this French saying – vous tombez bien.” “What does that mean?” Alec asked. “You’ve fallen well.

Why are you walking through the wood alone?

The more you miss something, the greater the appeal.

Derek,” I said after a moment, “have you ever noticed that women can be really stupid?” He put his arm around my shoulders. “And yet, they’re generally smarter than men.” “That’s a sad, sad statement.

Alec moved his mouth over her neck and the top edge of her breasts. “You must really want me to heat you up.” A hint of humor sparkled through the deep velvet tone. “To volcanic levels,” she replied.

Alice saw that Victoria was coming back. I took you out of town merely as a precaution — there was never a chance that she would have gotten anywhere close to you. Emmett and Jasper very nearly had her, but Victoria seems to have some instinct for evasion. She escaped right down the Quileute boundary line as if she were reading it from a map. It didn’t help that Alice’s abilities were nullified by the Quileutes’ involvement. To be fair, the Quileutes might have had her, too, if we hadn’t gotten in the way. The big gray one thought Emmett was over the line, and he got defensive. Of course Rosalie reacted to that, and everyone left the chase to protect their companions. Carlisle and Jasper got things calmed down before it got out of hand. But by then, Victoria had slipped away. That’s everything.

When you spend time as part of a female minority in bars full of drunk men, it was hard not to think that some of them would have hit on me for no other reason than that I was female, regardless of how I acted, what I said, or what I looked like. I therefore learned that getting hit on wasn’t necessarily a compliment and, the later it happened in the evening, the less of a compliment it was. - Away from the Spotlight

The valet blanched at the thought of four hours in a carriage. "I've sent for Dr. Fansher." As if that would shorten their errand. He gave McNaught an even look. "I never told you not to." McNaught lifted the curtain and peered out the window, letting in the pale light of dawn. He settled back on the seat. "At least there's decent inns in Carlisle." Frowning, he said, "I wish you'd told me, my Lord. I'd have packed a change of clothes." "We're not staying the night." "But we'll be the entire day on the road. Dr. Fansher would never approve of this." "With Andrew's horses, I expect we'll make good time." McNaught shook his head. "Worse than a cat after a mouse when you've got an idea in your head, you are." "My one virtue." "Small consolation when both man and mouse are dead." "So long as you bury us both at sea, I don't give a damn.

That’s what you asked him?” “Yeah, why?” Gina scrunched her face with confusion. “I thought you were going to say something juicy.” “Like what?” “I don’t know, like if he would be your sex slave or something like that.” “Kelly! Why would I ask him that?” “He’s a hot guy, you’re a hot girl. We’re in a super romantic castle on the coast.” Kelly waved her hand around the room for emphasis. “Why the hell not generate some heat in between these cold stone walls?

Four gargoyle brothers came and went with their mates, which included a wolf shifter, a Pegasus shifter, a gargoyle, and Kayla (a tree witch). Only one remained unattached, the middle brother, Gavin. He swore it would always remain that way.

Ti amo, Red.” Terry era incredibilmente felice. Si girò su un fianco e guardò il suo amante, passandogli leggermente le dita sulla guancia. “Sei l’uomo più bello che abbia mai conosciuto.” Prima che Red potesse mettersi a discutere lo baciò, perché a volte le parole proprio non bastavano

Lehigh caught on, but still couldn’t stop the drive. By the time Carlisle neared the Lehigh goal line, both teams were cracking up. As Carlisle bashed in for another score, lineman William Garlow entertained the defense with his running commentary. “Gentlemen, this hurts me as much as it does you, but I’m afraid the ball is over. We regret it, I am sure you regret it, and I hope nothing happening here will spoil what for us has been a very pleasant afternoon.” Fans in the stands, who couldn’t hear Garlow, had no idea why players who’d just surrendered a touchdown were doubled over with laughter.

Peter Lord said: “Oh, well, I suppose she and Roderick Welman will live happy ever afterwards.” Hercule Poirot said: “My dear friend, you suppose nothing of the sort!” “Why not? She’ll forgive him the Mary Gerrard business. It was only a wild infatuation on his part, anyway.” Hercule Poirot said: 'It goes deeper than that… There is, sometimes, a deep chasm between the past and the future. When one has walked in the valley of the shadow of death, and come out of it into the sunshine—then, mon cher, it is a new life that begins… The past will not serve….” He waited a minute and then went on: “A new life… That is what Elinor Carlisle is beginning now—and it is you who have given her that life.” “No.” “Yes. It was your determination, your arrogant insistence that compelled me to do as you asked. Admit now, it is to you she turns in gratitude, is it not?” Peter Lord said slowly: “Yes, she’s very grateful—now… She asked me to go and see her—often.” “Yes, she needs you.” Peter Lord said violently: “Not as she needs—him!” Hercule Poirot shook his head. “She never needed Roderick Welman. She loved him, yes, unhappily—even desperately.” Peter Lord, his face set and grim, said harshly: “She will never love me like that.” Hercule Poirot said softly: “Perhaps not. But she needs you, my friend, because it is only with you that she can begin the world again.

Il bacio era tenero e gentile, ma pieno di significato. Sentiva che Terry non lo stava semplicemente dicendo. Ne era davvero convinto. C’erano molte cose che si potevano fingere. La gente ti poteva mentire in faccia, a lui era successo più di una volta. Ma qualcosa di intimo e amorevole come quel bacio… lì non c’era inganno, era nient’altro che sincero… Cercò una parola per definire quello che vi percepiva

It is no wonder that so much of the search for identity, among American Negroes, was championed by jazz musicians. Long before the modern essayists and scholars wrote of racial identity as a problem for a multiracial world, musicians were returning to their roots to affirm that which was stirring within their souls. Much of the power of our Freedom Movement in the United States has come from the music. It has strengthened us with its sweet rhythms when courage began to fail. It has calmed us with its rich harmonies when spirits were down. And now, Jazz is exported to the world. For, in a particular struggle of the Negro in America, there is something akin to the universal struggle of modern man. Everybody has the Blues. Everybody longs for meaning. Everybody needs to clap hands and be happy. Everybody longs for faith. In music, especially this broad category called jazz, there is a stepping-stone towards all these.

An economic franchise arises from a product or service that: (1) is needed or desired; (2) is thought by its customers to have no close substitute and; (3) is not subject to price regulation. The existence of all three conditions will be demonstrated by a company’s ability to regularly price its product or service aggressively and thereby to earn high rates of return on capital. Moreover, franchises can tolerate mismanagement. Inept managers may diminish a franchise’s profitability, but they cannot inflict mortal damage.

People are so soon gone; let us catch them. That man there, by the cabinet; he lives, you say, surrounded by china pots. Break one and you shatter a thousand pounds. And he loved a girl in Rome and she left him. Hence the pots, old junk found in lodging-houses or dug from the desert sands. And since beauty must be broken daily to remain beautiful, and he is static, his life stagnates in a china sea. It is strange though; for once, as a young man, he sat on damp ground and drank rum with soldiers. One must be quick and add facts deftly, like toys to a tree, fixing them with a twist of the fingers. He stoops, how he stoops, even over an azalea. He stoops over the old woman even, because she wears diamonds in her ears, and, bundling about her estate in a pony carriage, directs who is to be helped, what tree felled, and who turned out tomorrow. (I have lived my life, I must tell you, all these years, and I am now past thirty, perilously, like a mountain goat, leaping from crag to crag; I do not settle long anywhere; I do not attach myself to one person in particular; but you will find that if I raise my arm, some figure at once breaks off and will come.) And that man is a judge; and that man is a millionaire, and that man, with the eyeglass, shot his governess “through the heart with an arrow when he was ten years old. Afterwards he rode through deserts with despatches, took part in revolutions and now collects materials for a history of his mother’s family, long settled in Norfolk. That little man with a blue chin has a right hand that is withered. But why? We do not know. That woman, you whisper discreetly, with the pearl pagodas hanging from her ears, was the pure flame who lit the life of one of our statesmen; now since his death she sees ghosts, tells fortunes, and has adopted a coffee-coloured youth whom she calls the Messiah.* That man with the drooping moustache, like a cavalry officer, lived a life of the utmost debauchery (it is all in some memoir) until one day he met a stranger in a train who converted him between Edinburgh and Carlisle by reading the Bible. Thus, in a few seconds, deftly, adroitly, we decipher the hieroglyphs written on other people’s faces. Here, in this room, are the abraded and battered shells cast on the shore.