Domo Quotes

the houses described in Leviticus as ‘leprous,’ tsaraas, or Homer’s phrase for the underworld: aidao domos, the house of Hades; I need not remind you, I think, that the concept of certain houses as unclean or forbidden—perhaps sacred—is as old as the mind of man.

His heart was a church of his own choosing, and the lights came through the colourful windows.

The entrant mooed like a calf but in insolence looked about him. Hew saw Kit. Kit saw him. Nay, it was more than pure seeing. It was Jove's bolt. It was, to borrow from the papists, the bell of the consecration. It was the revelation of the possibility nay the certainty of the probability or somewhat of the kind of the. It was the sharp knife of a sort of truth in the disguise of danger. Both went out together, and it was as if they were entering, rather than leaving, the corridor outside with its sour and burly servant languidly asweep with his broom, the major-domo in livery hovering, transformed to a sweet bower of assignation, though neither knew the other save in a covenant familiar through experience unrecorded and unrecordable whose terms were not of time and to which space was a child's puzzle.

All my contemporaries— hundred-and-fivers or convicts— will tell you how we lived in barely sentient fear, raising children for the executioner, prison, or the torture chamber.

Cedes coemptis saltibus et domo uillaque flauus quam Tiberis lauit, cedes et exstructis in altum diuitiis potietur heres.

He said "They were heartily welcome to his poor cottage", and turning to Mr. Didapper, cried out, 'Non mea renidet in domo lacunar.' The beau answered, "He did not understand Welsh"; at which the parson stared and made no reply.

You always bring God into arguments you know you're losing, for the liar is lonely, and welcomes all manner of company.

All I know, boy, is that life is, on occasion, entirely too vast for my tastes.

Com literatura de integração eu domo toda e qualquer realidade.

Jamadars and bheesties,’ said the helmsman. ‘Not to mention the major-domos, lordly lamplighters and twisted firestarters.’ ‘Twisted firestarters?’ enquired the detective. ‘I told you not to mention them.

ibant obscuri sola sub nocte per umbram, perque domos Ditis vacuas et inania regna: quale per incertam lunam sub luce maligna est iter in silvis, ubi caelum condidit umbra Iuppiter, et rebus nox abstulit atra colorem.'' - Virgil, Aenid Liber VI, 268-272.

Hay quien se burla de la obediencia, del ayuno, de la oración... Sin embargo, ese es el único camino de la verdadera libertad. Yo suprimo las necesidades superfluas, domo y flagelo mi voluntad altiva y egoísta por medio de la obediencia, y así, con la ayuda de Dios, consigo la libertad del alma y, con ella, la alegría espiritual.

Love is so urgent as all that, eh?

What of the melancholy, may I ask?" "Stubbornly persistent, I'm sorry to say." "If only modest joy were so dogged, eh?" "You said something there, sir.

En algún momento de la fiesta, la tormenta había pasado de largo. El cielo estaba despejado y silencioso, las estrellas nos espiaban con curiosidad desde el enorme domo índigo. El agua también estaba quieta, y pensé: Qué mentirosos son el cielo y el agua. Quietos y serenos y despejados, como si todo estuviera bien. No lo estaba y, en realidad, no volvería a estarlo.

After dinner, Lady Milton charged Ben with marshalling the guests and showing them to their rooms. He tried to point out to her that he had no idea where any of the rooms were, but his initial success in finding the Library seemed to have convinced her of his capabilities. Either that or--and this, in fact, seemed more likely--she was under the impression that he had joined the staff of Burton Makepeace. So be it, he thought. Private Dogsbody had been promoted to Major Domo, or perhaps even to General Factotum.

heu, uatum ignarae mentes! quid uota furentem, quid delubra iuuant? est mollis flamma medullas interea et tacitum uiuit sub pectore uulnus. uritur infelix Dido totaque uagatur urbe furens, qualis coniecta cerua sagitta, quam procul incautam nemora inter Cresia fixit pastor agens telis liquitque uolatile ferrum nescius: illa fuga siluas saltusque peragrat Dictaeos; haeret lateri letalis harundo. nunc media Aenean secum per moenia ducit Sidoniasque ostentat opes urbemque paratam, incipit effari mediaque in uoce resistit; nunc eadem labente die conuiuia quaerit, Iliacosque iterum demens audire labores exposcit pendetque iterum narrantis ab ore. post ubi digressi, lumenque obscura uicissim luna premit suadentque cadentia sidera somnos, sola domo maeret uacua stratisque relictis incubat. illum absens absentem auditque uidetque, aut gremio Ascanium genitoris imagine capta detinet, infandum si fallere possit amorem. non coeptae adsurgunt turres, non arma iuuentus exercet portusue aut propugnacula bello tuta parant: pendent opera interrupta minaeque murorum ingentes aequataque machina caelo. (Alas, poor blind interpreters! What woman In love is helped by offerings or altars? Soft fire consumes the marrow-bones, the silent Wound grows, deep in the heart. Unhappy Dido burns, and wanders, burning, All up and down the city, the way a deer With a hunter’s careless arrow in her flank Ranges the uplands, with the shaft still clinging To the hurt side. She takes Aeneas with her All through the town, displays the wealth of Sidon, Buildings projected; she starts to speak, and falters, And at the end of the day renews the banquet, Is wild to hear the story, over and over, Hangs on each word, until the late moon, sinking, Sends them all home. The stars die out, but Dido Lies brooding in the empty hall, alone, Abandoned on a lonely couch. She hears him, Sees him, or sees and hears him in Iulus, Fondles the boy, as if that ruse might fool her, Deceived by his resemblance to his father. The towers no longer rise, the youth are slack In drill for arms, the cranes and derricks rusting, Walls halt halfway to heaven.) Book IV 65-89

Credi che non sorgano impeti di sentimenti anche in me? Ma io non li lascio scatenare; io li afferro, li domo; li inchiodo. Hai visto le belve e il domatore nei serragli? Ma non credere: io, che pure sono il domatore, poi rido di me perché mi vedo come tale in questa parte che mi sono imposta verso i miei sentimenti; e ti giuro che qualche volta mi verrebbe voglia di farmi sbranare da una di queste belve...

Te veo en el domo. Y gracias. Créeme que un poco de suerte no me vendría mal. Me parece que no le creo en absoluto, señorita Chen. Ahora se está riendo de mí, señor Tanaka. Ah. ¿De modo que es así como le llamas a esto? ¿Y cómo debería llamarlo? ¿Apoyo moral, quizá? Sonrío. Tu apoyo moral me distraerá en el estadio. Entonces, me disculpo de antemano. Sacudo la cabeza. Eres un adulador. Para nada. Nos vemos en el domo, Emika.

The OLDER you get the more you should be thinking of your FUTURE & STABILITY...

Then that nigga can die with his son, I don’t care.” Domo dropped back in his seat and shook his head. “Next time you take a vacation don’t take that shit here. Take it somewhere cold like Alaska where black folks don’t be.

Pisce/autore intelektualne/kritičke proze, inače se NE SMATRA PISCIMA, u pravom smislu, jer su to (“u pravom smislu”) samo “beletristi” (pjesnici, novelisti, romanopisci, čak i dramatičari). Bilo koji pop, recimo iz 16. st. koji je sačinio kakav brevijar ili tko zna koja popadija iz recimo 18. ili 20. stoljeća, koja je skuhala koju zbirčicu pjesama uvijek su bili, jesu i bit će VAŽNIJI od PISACA KOJI MISLE! Zato su u “Leksikonu stranih pisaca" (Školska knjiga, Zagreb, 2001) svoje mjesto mogli naći bezbrojni minores-i, beznačajni i u svojim sredinama, uvršteni da se popuni kvota, recimo neke nacionalne književnosti ili ostvari rodno/spolna ravnopravnost zastupljenih, ali na račun važnih intelektualnih pisaca (koji se u predgovoru “Leksikona” tretiraju kao autori “nekih književnih PODVRSTA … (esejisti, putopisci, feljtonisti, momoaristi, filozofi, književni povjesničari, kritičari, teoretičari)”. Naprosto, riječ je o SUZBIJANJU PAMETI u literaturi - čak i kad je riječ o intelektualcima koji znaju pisati i za “široke mase”, odnosno od njih biti prihvaćeni. Ovo pišem i pro domo sua, jer sam u mnogo navrata iskusio takvo podcjenjivačko odbacivanje u vlastitoj sredini. Moje knjige intelektualno-kritičke proze (eseji, feljtoni, polemike) desetljećima su gurane na stranu, jer je moj raznorodni opus naprosto isuviše kabast … Kad se prestalo da me se tretira tek pukim novinarom (jer sam sudionikom u štampi po medijskom duhu vremena, kao moj uzor A. G. M.!), onda je smišljen PRETINAC - PUBLICISTIKA. To je ama baš glupav pojam … Dokonao sam, ne baš tako davno (jer da jesam na vrijeme, bio bih se preorijentirao!), kako je u Hrvatskoj tekstualnosti BOLJE BITI MAKAR I OSREDNJI autor fikcionalne proze (iz lijenosti i gluposti zvane “beletristikom”) nego NAJPAMETNIJI AUTOR INTELEKTUALNE PROZE. Ali ako sam i to dokonao, ponovno sam se vratio staroj mudrosti: “Radi svoj posao i ne očekuj pljesak”, a pljusak govana ionako nas sve čeka kad nam lijes spuste u raku…

I’on want none of this shit,” Fire said, kicking at boxes in the corner of the room. A little boy identical to the baby in his arms crawled out from behind them when they fell. “It's two of y'all?” Fire stuffed his gun in his pants and picked up the other little boy. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.” “You got the money?” I asked Domo, who nodded. He looked over at Fire, then back at me, and I shook my head. “He ain’t gonna leave them here.” “This nigga pulled two kids out of thin air and Krude walking around, talkin’ about he pregnant by Megan. Plum giving me a baby for sure now,” Domo

Walking away on the springy legs of a foal he thought, How remarkable a thing a lie is. He wondered if it wasn't man's finest achievement, and after some consideration, he decided it was.

Peter was rapt. He tilted his head to better study the stranger before him, and presently issued a hesitant, hoarse croak in the minor key. There followed a dense silence where neither Lucy nor Mr. Olderglough drew a breath, and then, finally, Peter sang his long-lost tune. It came out in purling currents, as though his keeping it in had been an agony. Peter sang to his reflection, sang a love song to himself, for he was no longer alone, and the world was filled with unmapped possibilities.

He wandered here and there over rolling hills. He never saw the ocean but dreamed of it often enough.

It is a glory and a torment.

According to this system, if one understands the mechanism through which all things are merely posited on the strength of conceptual thought, then one will easily recognize that any apprehension of an intrinsically existent reality is made in contradiction with this mechanism.” This is actually very correct. If you memorize and repeat it, others will think you are very intelligent! They

Our interest in knowing the nature of reality is actually not because we are interested in reality or truth or anything related to those subjects. We want to be happy and we want to know more about me, our favorite subject. For

I had my eye on the street when an SUV pulled up outside. With a flash of long, tanned thighs, a brunette in a black cocktail dress slid out. The major-domo held the door for her and I heard him promise to have the vehicle safely parked in the basement. It seemed she had driven in alone. That was unusual for anyone of any means in Luanda. The woman came inside. She was tall and slim, hardly more than thirty years old. Her long hair was tied back in a chignon. She tossed her head and smiled at the doorman. The look softened the strong lines of her oval face. He snapped his fingers at a hostess who stepped forward with a clipboard. “Madame?” “Fabienne de Valence”, I heard the woman say with a noticeable accent. The hostess checked the guest list, nodded and gestured towards the lifts. I decided it was time to join the reception. There weren’t that many seriously attractive women in Luanda.

major-domo, Sept Bantrabal’s most senior servant,

And yet he held his tongue, wanting his farewell with Marina to be peaceable, not out of any magnanimity, but so that after Tor ruined her—he felt confident Tor would ruin her—and she was once more alone, she would think of Lucy’s graciousness and feel the long-lingering sting of bitter regret.

I write the myths in me, the myths I am, the myths I want to become. The word, the image and the feeling have a palatable energy, a kind of power. Con imágenes domo mi miedo, cruzo los abismos que tengo por dentro. Con palabras me hago piedra, pájaro, puente de serpientes arrastrando a ras del suelo todo lo que soy, todo lo que algún día seré.

There is darkness and there is darkness, thought Lucy. This is darkness.

Además, los libros no están hechos de frases colocadas unas tras otras, sino de frases construidas, valga la imagen, en arcos y domos.