Descendants Carlos Quotes

People talk too much. Humans aren't descended from monkeys. They come from parrots.

Sometimes I think that Darwin made a mistake and that in fact man is descended from the pig, because eight out of every ten members of the human race are swine, and as crooked as a hog's tail.

A few days later, Tuesday quietly crossed our apartment as I read a book and, after a nudge against my arm, put his head on my lap. As always, I immediately checked my mental state, trying to assess what was wrong. I knew a change in my biorhythms had brought Tuesday over, because he was always monitoring me, but I couldn't figure out what it was. Breathing? Okay. Pulse? Normal. Was I glazed or distracted? Was I lost in Iraq? Was a dark period descending? I didn't think so, but I knew something must be wrong, and I was starting to worry...until I looked into Tuesday's eyes. They were staring at me softly from under those big eyebrows, and there was nothing in them but love.

People talk too much, humans aren't descended from monkeys, they're descended from parrots.

Humans aren’t descended from monkeys. They come from parrots.

Jane had a sweet, lovely laugh, and hours later Carlos discovered he was still thinking about it.

Yen Sid surveyed the young villains in front of him. „What you are about to do is very dangerous.” Carlos perked up. „That's fine, my middle name is–” „Oscar” said Evie. „We know.

Crap. I thought that picture was you.' He pointed. 'That's not me. That's my mother,' Mal said with a sigh. 'Woah, you really do look like her, you know,' Jay said. 'You two could be twins,' Evie agreed. 'That, my friends, is called genetics,' Carlos said with a smile.

People talk too much. Humans aren’t descended from monkeys. They come from parrots.

She'd never really liked companionship before, but then again, Maleficent had always insisted that they lived apart from the pack - superior, alone and bent on revenge. Lonely, Mal thought. I was lonely. And so were they. Evie, with her beauty-obsessed mother; Carlos, with his screeching harpy of a parent; Jay, the happy-go-lucky thief with a quick wit and dashing smile, who could steal anything in the world except his father's heart.

Monte Carlo is able to discover practical solutions to otherwise intractable problems because the most efficient search of an unmapped territory takes the form of a random walk. Today’s search engines, long descended from their ENIAC-era ancestors, still bear the imprint of their Monte Carlo origins: random search paths being accounted for, statistically, to accumulate increasingly accurate results. The genius of Monte Carlo—and its search-engine descendants—lies in the ability to extract meaningful solutions, in the face of overwhelming information, by recognizing that meaning resides less in the data at the end points and more in the intervening paths.

Come on, guys,” Mal said, dropping the wrapper on the floor. “Let’s go find our dorms.” She started up a flight of stairs. Carlos, Jay, and Evie followed her. “Oh! Uh, yeah, your dorms are that way, guys,” said Doug, pointing in the opposite direction.

Carlos never shied from a mission, and if Mal wanted a howler, there was no alternative but to provide one. There was nothing he could do about it, AP Evil Penchant or not. He knew his place on the totem pole. First things first: a party couldn’t be a party without guests. Which meant people. Lots of people. Bodies. Dancing. Talking. Drinking. Eating.

The villain kids all had questions when they'd first arrived too: Was it okay to eat as much food as you could from the refectory? (Jay) Could you take as many classes as you could fit into your schedule—or even take two classes at the same time, if you worked really fast? (Carlos, of course.) Evie had wanted to know if they had to wear uniforms (they didn't), while Mal's only question was where she could acquire purple spray paint (the art studio).

Are you crazy?" Jay shook his head, sliding behind her. "Mal, seriously. You don't have to do this," Carlos whispered, ducking behind Jay. "Definitely crazy," Evie said, from behind Carlos. "Me, crazy?" Mal raised her voice even higher. "How could I not be? I go to school in a graveyard and eat expired scones for breakfast. My own mother sends me to forbidden places like this, because of some old bird and a lost stick," she scoffed. "There's nothing you can throw at me that's worse that what I've already got going.

And he was right. Because Carlos De Vil’s brain, by way of comparison, was almost as big as Cruella De Vil’s fur-coat closet. That’s what Carlos tried to tell himself, anyway, especially when people were making him run the tombs. His first class today was Weird Science, one he always looked forward to. It was where he’d originally gotten the idea to put his machine together, from the lesson on radio waves. Carlos was not the only top student in the class—he was tied, in fact, with the closest thing he had to a rival in the whole school: the scrawny, bespectacled Reza. Reza was the son of the former Royal Astronomer of Agrabah, who had consulted with Jafar to make sure the stars aligned on more than one nefarious occasion, which was how his family had found their way to the Isle of the Lost with everyone else. Weird Science was the class where Carlos always worked the hardest. The presence of Reza, who was every bit as competitive in science lab as he was, only made Carlos work that much harder. And as annoying as everyone found Reza to be—he always had to use the very biggest words for everything, whether they were used correctly and whether he was inserting a few extra syllables where they might or might not belong—he was still smart. Very smart. Which meant Carlos enjoyed besting him. Just the other week they had been working on a special elixir, and Reza had been annoyed that Carlos had figured out the secret ingredient first. Yeah, Reza was almost as smart as he was irritating. Even now he was raising his hand, waving it wildly back and forth. Their professor, the powerful sorcerer Yen Sid,

Evil is seductive; you will have to remain strong and not fall prey to its temptations.” He stood in front of Carlos first and placed a hand on his head. “Carlos de Vil, you possess a keen intellect; however, do not let your head rule your heart. Learn to see what is truly in front of you.” Evie was next, and Yen Sid did the same, resting a hand above her dark blue locks. “Evie, remember that when you believe you are alone in the world, you are far from friendless.” Jay bowed down and removed his beanie so the good professor could lay his hand on his head too. “Jay of Agrabah, a boy of many talents, open your eyes and discover that the riches of the world are all around you.

Jay took them and stepped in front of the TV. His biceps bulged as he swung the weapon. Carlos watched him, laughing and whooping as Jay fought off the animated attackers. “Guys!” said Mal. “Do I have to remind you what we’re all here for?” “Fairy Godmother, blah, blah, blah,” said Jay as he swung. “Magic wand, blah, blah, blah.” Evie laughed at him. “This is our one chance to prove ourselves to our parents,” said Mal. Evie stopped laughing and faced Mal. “To prove that we are evil and vicious and ruthless and cruel,” said Mal. Jay and Carlos stared at her, too. She had their attention. “Yeah?” Mal asked them. Her friends nodded solemnly. “Evie, mirror me,” said Mal. Mal and Evie sat at the table as Jay and Carlos gathered around them. Evie lifted her mirror. “Mirror, mirror, on the…in my hand. Where is Fairy Godmother’s wand”—she searched for a rhyming word—“stand?” In the mirror, there was an extreme close-up of the sparkling wand. “There it is!” said Evie. “Zoom out,” said Carlos. “Magic Mirror, not so close,” Evie whispered into it.

Before Evie could protest, Mal sighed. “Of course there is. The party of the year. A real rager, didn’t you hear?” Mal looked her up and down and shook her head sadly. “Oh, I guess you didn’t hear.” She mock-winced, looking at Carlos conspiratorially. “Everyone’s going to be there.” “They are?” Carlos looked confused. “But you only just told me to have it—” He quickly got the message. “Everyone,” he agreed. Evie smiled. “Sounds awesome. I haven’t been to a party in a long, long time.” Mal raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry. This is a very exclusive party, and I’m afraid you didn’t get an invitation.” With those parting words, Mal went ahead of them into the classroom—she was in their next class too, of course (her EQ was legendary)—and left them to each other. “Sorry,” Carlos mumbled. “I guess I was wrong, Mal doesn’t just talk a big game.” “Yeah, me too. The party sounds like fun,” Evie said sadly. “You want to see what I’m making?” he asked, trying to change the subject as they settled into their seats. He took out of his bag a black box, with wires and an antenna poking out from one side—the same contraption he’d

So, about your classes,” said Doug. “I put in the requirements already. History of Woodsmen and Pirates, Safety Rules for the Internet, and”—he cleared his throat—“Remedial Goodness 101.” “Let me guess...” said Mal. She popped a piece of candy into her mouth. “New class?” Doug nodded sheepishly. “Come on, guys,” Mal said, dropping the wrapper on the floor. “Let’s go find our dorms.” She started up a flight of stairs. Carlos, Jay, and Evie followed her. “Oh! Uh, yeah, your dorms are that way, guys,” said Doug, pointing in the opposite direction. As Mal and her friends came back down the stairs and headed in the direction he indicated, Doug hung back, counting through the dwarves again. “Dopey, Doc, Bashful, Happy, Grumpy, Sleepy, and...” “Sneezy,” said Carlos, passing him and ascending the opposite staircase. Doug sighed and looked at the ceiling. Upstairs, Mal and Evie opened the door to their dorm room. It was light and airy and dappled in sunlight. The white canopy beds were covered with pink pillows, and flowery curtains fluttered gently in the fresh breeze from the open windows. Evie’s eyes widened with delight as Mal’s narrowed in horror. “Wow,” said Evie. “This place is so amazing—” “Gross,” said Mal. “I know, right?” said Evie, changing her tune. “Amazingly gross. Ew!” When Mal wasn’t looking, Evie couldn’t help giving a silent gasp of joy at her new crib. “I am going to need some serious sunscreen,” said Mal, arms crossed. “Yeah,” said Evie. “E,” said Mal, pointing to the windows. She closed the curtains as Evie moved to other windows in the room and did the same, plunging the dorm into darkness. “Whoa!” said Mal. “That is much better.

I don't feel like a hero," said Carlos. "That's okay," said Mal with a rueful smile. "Remember what the professor said? We're the villains you root for in the story.

Evie winced. "What?" cried Carlos. "Are they hurting her?" "Only with bad puns.

The expanded present is the set of events that are neither past nor future: it exists, just as there are human beings who are neither our descendants nor our forebears.

El país habría sido otro si Carlos Gaviria Díaz hubiera ganado las elecciones de 2006. A veces un pueblo aprende más por lo que pierde que por lo que gana. Personas muy cuestionables no habrían llegado a la Corte Constitucional para luego sumirla en el mayor de los desprestigios. Tampoco los falsos positivos o el rastro de sangre y sufrimiento habrían tenido el camino expedito si la dirección del estado hubiere estado en manos de quien es hoy conciencia ética para la nación. […]. Arriesgarse, mojarse, embarrarse al descender de las cumbres universitarias a las cortes y de ellas a la política para reproducirla de nuevo a sus orígenes, no desdice, sino que enaltece una existencia humana. En ese camino los principios del buen discernimiento según Kant, recordado periódicamente por Carlos, son guía indispensable: 1) Pensar por uno mismo; 2) pensar poniéndose en el lugar del otro; 3) pensar siempre en concordancia con uno mismo. Cuando el mandatario o magistrado carece de criterio, pocos motivos existen para la esperanza. Cuando el buen juicio lo acompaña, puede confiar en el porvenir de la república”.

Carlo Ginzburg proposed the notion that shame for one’s country, not love of it, may be the true mark of belonging to it.154 A supreme example of such shame occurred back in 2014 when hundreds of Holocaust survivors and descendants of survivors bought an ad in the New York Times condemning what they referred to as “the massacre of Palestinians in Gaza and the ongoing occupation and colonization of historic Palestine.”155 The statement read: “We are alarmed by the extreme, racist dehumanization of Palestinians in Israeli society, which has reached a fever-pitch.” Hopefully today, more Israelis will gather the courage to feel shame apropos the politics enacted by leaders such as Netanyahu and Trump on their behalf—not, of course, shame for being Jewish but, on the contrary, shame for what Israel’s policies in the West Bank are doing to the most precious legacy of Judaism itself.

But nobody was going to snatch his son from him again. This time God Almighty could descend from the heavens, the same God who had ignored the hatter’s prayers all his life, and he would gladly pull out His eyes if He dared push Julián away again.

Hecataeus the historian was once at Thebes, in Egypt, where he boasted that he descended directly from a god, in sixteen generations. But the priests reacted with him precisely as they also did with me (though I myself did not boast my own lineage): they brought me into the great inner court of the temple and showed me colossal wooden figures. They counted these statues, showing me that they were precisely the number they had previously told me. Custom was that every high priest set up a statue of himself there during his lifetime. Pointing to these and counting, the priests showed me that each high priest succeeded his father. They went through the whole line of figures, from the statue of the man who had most recently died, back to the earliest. Hecataeus had traced his descent and claimed that his sixteenth forefather was a god, but the priests traced a line of descent by counting the statues, and these were three hundred and forty-five. The priests refused to believe that a man could be descended from a god in only sixteen generations; they refused to believe that a man could be born before a god. And all those men whose statues stood there had been good men, but not gods.

Carlos opened his mouth for Jay to look at the chewed-up peanut butter cup on his tongue. Some fell out.

He doesn’t look like a rabid pack animal,” said Carlos, stepping down from the tree. “Geez, it’s kind of like looking into a mirror.” Carlos spoke to Dude. “I bet you’re used to being kicked around, right?” Carlos scratched Dude’s head and smiled.

Then, at Miletus, at the beginning of the fifth century before our era, Thales, his pupil Anaximander, Hecataeus and their school find a different way of looking for answers. This immense revolution in thought inaugurates a new mode of knowledge and understanding, and signals the first dawn of scientific thought. The Milesians understand that by shrewdly using observation and reason, rather than searching for answers in fantasy, ancient myths or religion – and, above all, by using critical thought in a discriminating way – it is possible to repeatedly correct our world view, and to discover new aspects of reality which are hidden to the common view. It is possible to discover the new. Perhaps the decisive discovery is that of a different style of thinking, where the disciple is no longer obliged to respect and share the ideas of the master but is free to build on those ideas without being afraid to discard or criticize the part that can be improved. This is a novel middle way, placed between full adherence to a school and generic deprecation of ideas. It is the key to the subsequent development of philosophical and scientific thinking: from this moment onwards, knowledge begins to grow at a vertiginous pace, nourished by past knowledge but at the same time by the possibility of criticism, and therefore of improving knowledge and understanding. The dazzling incipit of Hecataeus’s book of history goes to the heart of this critical thinking, including as it does the awareness of our own fallibility: ‘I wrote things which seem true to me, because the accounts of the Greeks seem to be full of contradictory and ridiculous things.’ According to legend, Heracles descended to Hades from Cape Tenaro. Hecataeus visits Cape Tenaro, and determines that there is in fact no subterranean passage or other access to Hades there – and therefore judges the legend to be false. This marks the dawn of a new era. This new approach to knowledge works quickly and impressively. Within a matter of a few years, Anaximander understands that the Earth floats in the sky and the sky continues beneath the Earth; that rainwater comes from the evaporation of water on Earth; that the variety of substances in the world must be susceptible to being understood in terms of a single, unitary and simple constituent, which he calls apeiron, the indistinct; that the animals and plants evolve and adapt to changes in the environment, and that man must have evolved from other animals. Thus, gradually, was founded the basis of a grammar for understanding the world which is substantially still our own today.

One hundred thousand years ago our species left Africa, compelled perhaps by precisely this curiosity, learning to look ever farther afield. Flying over Africa by night, I wondered if one of these distant ancestors setting out toward the wide-open spaces of the North could have looked up into the sky and imagined a distant descendant flying up there, pondering on the nature of things, and still driven by his very same curiosity.

The villains had seen better days. Cruella, with her wild black-and-white hair, wore a ratty, nearly bald black-and-white dog-fur coat, which sported a bejeweled stuffed toy Dalmatian head next to her neck. She stroked it lovingly as if it were alive. Jafar, with his trademark mustache and goatee, was rocking a potbelly, a comb-over, and puffy Sansabelt pants. Evil Queen, a former beauty, pulled at her cosmetically altered face and stared into a mirror. Mal, Evie, Jay, and Carlos feared their parents nonetheless.

Isn’t everyone, in a single moment of his life, capable of embodying—as you do—good and evil at the same time, letting himself be simultaneously led by two mysterious, different-colored threads that unwind from the same spool, so that the white thread ascends and the black one descends and, despite everything, the two come together again in his very fingers” Excerpt from The Death of Artemio Cruz Carlos Fuentes This material may be protected by copyright.

The genius of Monte Carlo—and its search-engine descendants—lies in the ability to extract meaningful solutions, in the face of overwhelming information, by recognizing that meaning resides less in the data at the end points and more in the intervening paths.

Was this classical form the reminiscence of an ancient art, descended to a popular level, or was it an original and spontaneous re-creation in a language natural to this land, where the whole of life is a tragedy without a stage?

The scoreboard read 2:2 with forty-seven seconds left on the clock. Cheerleaders, including Audrey, clapped, chanted, and danced. Jane, the mascot, in a knight’s suit of armor, jumped up and down with them. An announcer stood on the field with a golden microphone, as the teams got into their huddles and took up positions along the kill zones. Mal and Evie stood in the bleachers, watching Jay and Carlos down on the bench.

As millions use social media as a primary source of information, the risk of falling victim to being misinformed is high. Readers who quickly scan newsfeeds tend to only read (and share information about) a headline: focusing on “the hook.” Whether due to complacency or lack of time, few explore the content. This allows bogus media outlets to descend on the unsuspecting (and unprepared) seekers of instant information, creating false stories with dazzling one-liners, secure in the knowledge that there will be little effort to pursue confirmation or research an entire story.

The heavy mantle of collective forgetfulness seemed to descend around us the day the weapons went quiet. In those days I learned that nothing is more frightening than a hero who lives to tell his story, to tell what all those who fell at his side will never be able to tell.