Este Quotes

We never know the quality of someone else's life, though we seldom resist the temptation to assume and pass judgement.

Basia coquum," Simon said. "Or whatever their motto is." "It's 'Descensus Averno facilis est.' 'The descent into hell is easy," said Alec. "You just said "Kiss the cook." "Dammit," said Simon. "I knew Jace was screwing with me.

Non est ad astra mollis e terris via" - "There is no easy way from the earth to the stars

La plus belle des ruses du diable est de vous persuader qu'il n'existe pas." ("The devil's finest trick is to persuade you that he does not exist.")

Oh the places you'll go! There is fun to be done! There are points to be scored. There are games to be won. And the magical things you can do with that ball will make you the winning-est winner of all.

Voici mon secret. Il est très simple: on ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.

C'est courageux d'aller dans l'inconnu': It is courageous to go into territory unknown.

Plaudite, amici, comedia finita est. (Applaud, my friends, the comedy is over.) [Said on his deathbed]

Te occidere possunt sed te edere non possunt nefas est." (Roughly, "They can kill you, but the legalities of eating you are quite a bit dicier.")

Fas est ab hoste doceri. One should learn even from one's enemies.

L'éternité, c'est long ... surtout vers la fin.

There is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved. (Il n'y a qu'un bonheur dans la vie, c'est d'aimer et d'être aimé.)

On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.

Timendi causa est nescire - Ignorance is the cause of fear.

Est unus ex nobis. Nos defendat eius." She is one of us. We protect her.

C'est tellement mystérieux, le pays des larmes.

Scientia potentia est. Knowledge is power.

C'est le temps que tu a perdu pour ta rose qui fait ta rose si importante.

L'enfer, c'est les autres.

Te amo sin saber como, ni cuando, ni de donde. te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo: asi te amo porque no se amar de otra manera, sino asi de este modo en que no soy ni eres...

Il n'est pas certain que tout soit incertain. (Translation: It is not certain that everything is uncertain.)

Asta n-o vor înțelege ei niciodată: că nu ești dator să ajungi ceva, că nu trebuie să parvii nicăieri, că ceea ce importă în primul rând este să fii tu și să poți rămâne tu însuți în orice împrejurare a vieții.

C’est moi, c’est moi,’tis I,' I told him. It seemed appropriately melodramatic, though I didn’t know if he’d catch the reference. I shouldn’t have worried. Unexpectedly, he laughed. “Trust you to quote Lancelot rather than Guinevere.

Ipsa scientia potestas est. Knowledge itself is power.

Necesito una respuesta en este momento, el amor no se piensa, se siente o no se siente.

Sé que mi familia es así pero este silencio me pesa. Tengo la impresión de tener millones de cosas que decir que, en el fondo, no interesan a nadie. Me viene a la memoria lo que decían los supervivientes de los campos de la última guerra al volver a su hogar: las pesadillas no se cuentan. Los demás no imaginan este género de pesadillas. Se instala, entre ellos y nosotras, una especie de statu quo que parece decir: ‘Estás aquí, se acabó, no hablemos más de ello.

Aujourd'hui, maman est morte. Ou peut-être hier, je ne sais pas.

Cea mai minunată femeie din lume este cea care te iubeşte cu adevărat şi pe care o iubeşti cu adevărat. Nimic altceva nu contează.

Je est un autre.

errare humanum est, sed perseverare diabolicum: 'to err is human, but to persist (in the mistake) is diabolical.

La verdad es que mientras más enojado estoy con este país y más lejos viajo, más mexicano me siento.

Facilis descensus Averno Noctes atque dies patet atri ianua Ditis Sed revocare gradum superasque evadere ad auras Hoc opus labor est

Le mieux est l'ennemi du bien. (The perfect is the enemy of the good.)

On Undecided Voter​s: "To put them in perspective, I think​ of being​ on an airplane.​ The flight attendant comes​ down the aisle​ with her food cart and, eventually,​ parks​ it beside my seat.​ “Can I inter​est you in the chick​en?​” she asks.​ “Or would​ you prefer the platter of shit with bits of broke​n glass​ in it?” To be undecided in this elect​ion is to pause​ for a moment and then ask how the chick​en is cooked.

People die from lack of shared empathy and affinity. By establishing social connectedness, we give hope a chance and the other can become heaven. ( "Le ciel c'est l'autre" )

The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.

Cette histoire est vraie puisque je l'ai inventée.

Un bon livre, Marcus, est un livre que l’on regrette d’avoir terminé.

Eu nu pot să nu te iubesc. Tu nu ştii de ce, şi nu ţi-o pot spune, şi cu toate astea chipul tău, umbra ce-ai aruncat-o pe pânza gândurilor mele este singura fericire ce am avut-o în lume.

Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde, te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo: así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera, sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres, tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía, tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.

Scopul existenței fiecărui individ este plăcerea și cine o contestă ori e ipocrit, ori imbecil.

La única razón por la que he sobrevivido en este mundo es porque debía encontrarte, y ahora que lo he hecho no pienso perderte.

Emotion often outwits intelligence, while intuition renders life surprisingly fluent and enjoyable. ("Le ciel c'est l'autre")

Demasiado tarde, siempre, porque aunque hiciéramos tantas veces el amor la felicidad tenía que ser otra cosa, algo quizá más triste que esta paz y este placer, un aire como de unicornio o isla, una caída interminable en la inmovilidad

But it is a pipe." "No, it's not," I said. It's a drawing of a pipe. Get it? All representations of a thing are inherently abstract. It's very clever.

Tout comprendre, c'est tout pardonner.

Nemo enim est tam senex qui se annum non putet posse vivere. (No one is so old as to think that he cannot live one more year.)

As the French poet says, Le temps d’apprendre à vivre il est déjà trop tard, by the time we learn to live, it’s already too late.

Some feel lucky, if they haven't got to be happy, as they don’t like their frame of mind to be unravelled and prefer to be left well enough alone. ( "C’est quand le bonheur ?" )

L'homme est libre au moment qu'il veut l'être.

Recette pour aller mieux. Répéter souvent ces trois phrases : le bonheur n'existe pas. L'amour est impossible. Rien n'est grave.

Nemo est qui tibi sapientius suadere possit te ipso: numquam labere, si te audies. (Nobody can give you wiser advice than yourself: if you heed yourself, you'll never go wrong.)

Algunas veces lees un libro, sientes un extraño afán evangelizador y estás convencido de que este desastrado mundo no se recuperará hasta que todos los seres humanos lo lean. Y luego están los libros como Un Dolor Imperial, de los que no puedes hablar con nadie, libros tan especiales, escasos y tuyos que revelar el cariño que les tienes parece una gran traición.

There is special providence in the fall of a sparrow.

Happiness is not a sin, so let’s spread our wings and prepare to be lucky. ("C’est quand le bonheur ?")

Carved above the lintel were the words SCIENTIA POTESTAS EST. Science points east, I wondered? Science is portentous, yes? Science protests too much. Scientific potatoes rule. Had I stumbled on the lair of dangerous plant geneticists?

Il n'y a rien de gentil à laisser de faux espoirs. L'ambiguïté est la source de la douleur.

Elle est retrouvée! Quoi? -l'Éternité. C'est la mer allée Avec le soleil.

A veces, lees un libro y te llena con este fervor evangélico raro, y te convences de que el mundo destrozado que nunca se pondrá de nuevo junto a menos que y hasta que todos los seres humanos lean el libro. Y luego están los libros como Una Aflicción Imperial, que no puedes decirle a la gente sobre, libros tan especiales y raros y tuyos de que la publicidad de su afecto se siente como una traición.

La parole humaine est comme un chaudron fêlé où nous battons des mélodies à faire danser les ours, quand on voudrait attendrir les étoiles.

Dacă omul va uita cu desăvârşire că există moarte, că există un sfârşit, riscăm să ne întoarcem la maimuţe. Explicaţia este simplă: omul activ, omul creator, este excitat mai ales de ideea că într-o zi se va termina totul, că va avea un sfârşit, o odihnă definitivă. Cultivă la maximum conştiinţa acestui sfârşit, şi vei obţine de la oameni cele mai extraordinare eforturi. Cine ştie asta incontinuu este în stare să ridice munţii, este în stare de cele mai crâncene libertăţi, de cele mai curajoase acte.

My dad used to say the definition of stupidity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Or maybe that was the definition of crazy.

From: Anastasia Steele Subject: Moaning Date: May 31 2011 19:39 EST To: Christian Grey Gotta go. Laters, baby. ..... From: Christian Grey Subject: Plagiarism Date: May 31 2011 16:41 To: Anastasia Steele You stole my line. And left me hanging. Enjoy your dinner. Christian Grey CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Oh, the places you'll go! There is fun to be done! There are points to be scored. There are games to be won. And the magical things you can do with that ball will make you the winning-est winner of all. Fame! You'll be as famous as famous can be, with the whole wide world watching you win on TV. Except when they don't Because, sometimes they won't. I'm afraid that some times you'll play lonely games too. Games you can't win 'cause you'll play against you.

La vie c’est comme la bicyclette : quand on arrête de pédaler on tombe.

Il y a des beautés qui sautent aux yeux et d'autres qui sont écrites en hyéroglyphes: on met du temps à déchiffrer leur splendeur mais, quand elle est apparue, elle est plus belle que la beauté.

Let us keep walking up the happy rainbow of trust and compassion, even if a blizzard of suspicion may sometimes fray it, and let us believe in the positive quality of connectedness. ("Le ciel c'est l'autre")

There is no desire more natural than the desire of knowledge. (Il n'est desir plus naturel que le desir de connaissance)

Cela est bien, repondit Candide, mais il faut cultiver notre jardin.

We may be happy but just don’t know it yet. Many want to rebuke themselves for not finding the threshold of well being, since they simply haven’t learnt to be nice to themselves and to enjoy the privileged twinklings of life. ("C’est quand le bonheur ?" )

Tu sais… quand on est tellement triste on aime les couchers de soleil… -Le jour des quarante-trois fois tu étais donc tellement triste? Mais le petit prince ne répontit pas.

Let us evade the grueling imprisonment of our mental cage and invade the explosive power of love. Only by redirecting lost momentum to positive thinking we can restrengthen the mold of our trust. (“Le ciel c’est l’autre”)

Rien n’est plus trompeur qu’une photo : on croit fixer un moment heureux pour l’éternité alors qu’on ne crée que de la nostalgie

Nihil est sine ratione. [There is nothing without a reason.]

Ce n'est rien de mourir, C'est affreux de ne pas vivre.

Perdre quelqu'un qu'on a aimé est terrible, mais le pire serait de ne pas l'avoir rencontré.

Facilis descensus Averno: Noctes atque dies patet atri ianua Ditis; Sed revocare gradium superasque evadere ad auras, Hoc opus, hic labor est. (The gates of Hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this task and mighty labor lies.)

There is only love to save this world. Why would I be ashamed to love?

If the light in our hearts can brighten up the darkness in the mindset of our neighbors, we liberate them from a prison of distrust and prejudice. The healing glow unshackles the frozen atoms of their minds. ("Le ciel c'est l'autre")

Viaţa e un dar buclucaş. La început ai tendinţa să-l supraestimezi crezând că viaţa pe care ai primit-o este veşnică. Apoi, dimpotrivă, îl subestimezi, găsind că-i o porcărie, scurtă de nu-nţelegi nimic din ea şi pe care uneori ţi-ar veni s-o arunci de să nu se vadă. Abia către sfârşit pricepi că nu-i vorba de nici un dar, ci de un simplu împrumut. Pe care trebuie să încerci să-l meriţi.

-Ça ne fait rien, disait monsieur Ibrahim. Ton amour pour elle, il est à toi. Il t'appartient. Même si elle le refuse, elle ne peut rien y changer. Elle n'en profite pas, c'est tout. Ce que tu donnes, Momo, c'est à toi pour toujours; ce que tu gardes, c'est perdu à jamais!

As we inhale soothing wellbeing through the radiant glow of an unsuspected lighthouse in the dark stormy nights of our life, we can come to feel the exhilarating rhythm of our heartbeat, finding compassion with ourselves and at one time reaching out to all the others. ("Le ciel c'est l'autre")

Așadar, cine sunt eu? Cel din testele de personalitate? Dar ele nu fac decât să mă decupeze în diapozitive subțiri. În momente diferite, după ele, am personalități diferite. Interiorul nostru nu e însă un album de fotografii. Noi nu suntem obiecte, ci procese. Eu sunt, în cele din urmă, căutarea mea de sine. Exist pentru că mă caut pe mine însumi. Nu mă caut ca să mă găsesc: faptul că mă caut pe mine însumi este semnul că deja m-am găsit.

No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego: te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras, secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma. Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores, y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra. Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde, te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo: así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera, sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres, tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecha es mía, tan cerca que cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.

I am not poor, I am not rich; nihil est, nihil deest, I have little, I want nothing: all my treasure is in Minerva’s tower...I live still a collegiate student...and lead a monastic life, ipse mihi theatrum [sufficient entertainment to myself], sequestered from those tumults and troubles of the world...aulae vanitatem, fori ambitionem, ridere mecum soleo [I laugh to myself at the vanities of the court, the intrigues of public life], I laugh at all.

Nous, les Arabes, ne sommes pas paresseux. Nous prenons seulement le temps de vivre. Ce qui n'est pas le cas des Occidentaux. Pour eux, le temps, c'est de l'argent. Pour nous, le temps ça n'a pas de prix. Un verre de thé suffit à notre bonheur, alors qu'aucun bonheur ne leur suffit. Toute la différence est là.

Adam was in the dream, too; he traced the tangled pattern of ink with his finger. He said, "Scio quid hoc est." As he traced it further and further down on the bare skin of Ronan's back, Ronan himself disappeared entirely, and the tattoo got smaller and smaller. It was a Celtic knot the size of a wafer, and then Adam, who had become Kavinsky, said "Scio quid estis vos." He put the tattoo in his mouth and swallowed it. Ronan woke with a start, ashamed and euphoric. The euphoria wore off long before the shame did. He was never sleeping again.

... c'est peut-être ça la vie : beaucoup de désespoir mais aussi quelques moments de beauté où le temps n'est plus le même. C'est comme si les notes de musique faisaient un genre de parenthèses dans le temps, de supension, un ailleurs ici même, un toujours dans le jamais. Oui, c'est ça, un toujours dans le jamais.

Once upon a time, there was a naïve and innocent girl who thought she could tame the beast and live happily ever after. But the beast did not want to be tamed, for he was a beast and beasts care not for such things, and the girl died along with her dreams. From childhood's grave sprang a young woman, jaded before her years, who knew that beasts could wear the skins of men, and that evil could exist in sunlight, as well as darkness. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.

La vida deberia ser al reves; Se debería empezar muriendo y así ese trauma está superado; luego te despiertas en una residencia mejorando día a día… después te echan de la residencia porque ya estás bien, y lo primero que haces es cobrar tu pensión! Luego en tu primer día de trabajo te dan un reloj de oro… Trabajas 40 años hasta que seas lo bastante joven como para disfrutar de tu retiro laboral; entonces vas de fiesta en fiesta, bebes, practicas el sexo y te preparas para empezar a estudiar. Luego empiezas el colegio, jugando con tus amigos sin ningún tipo de obligación, hasta que seas bebé. Y te pasas los últimos nueve meses flotando tranquilo, con calefacción central, servicio de habitaciones, etc. Y al final abandonas este mundo en un gran orgasmo!

Camaraderia între un bărbat şi o femeie tânără este posibilă numai dacă amândoi sunt foarte inteligenţi sau dacă amândoi iubesc. Altminteri este o simplă tovărăşie mai mult sau mai puţin insipidă, foarte puţin interesantă sufleteşte, sau o etapă preliminarie unei legături tot atât de puţin interesante. Iar prietenia între un bărbat şi o femeie tânără este de asemenea un mare cuvânt, cu majusculă, dacă nu e alimentată de inteligenţă şi susţinută de dragostea pe care fiecare dintre ei o poartă altei persoane. Tovărăşiile acelea agreabile şi impure pe care le numim prietenii se rezumă de cele mai multe ori la vizite frecvente, la oarecare confidenţe şi la o caldă familiaritate. Mai sus nu răzbat.

É extraordinário! Neste abençoado país todos os políticos têm «imenso talento». A oposição confessa sempre que os ministros, que ela cobre de injúrias, tem, à parte os disparates que fazem, um «talento de primeira ordem»! Por outro lado a maioria admite que a oposição, a quem ela contantemente recrimina pelos disparates que fez, está cheia de «robustíssimos talentos»! De resto todo o mundo concorda que o país é uma choldra. E resulta portanto este facto supracómico: um país governado «com imenso talento», que é de todos na Europa, segundo o consenso unânime, o mais estùpidamente governado! Eu proponho isto, a ver: que, como os talentos sempre falham, se experimentem uma vez os imbecis!

Is happiness a sort of blissful state of mind or just a kind of surreal propensity? It may be hard to recognize its very nature, if we remain guilelessly confined in a state of woeful unawareness or in a no-man’s-land of emotions. In their dogged and obstinate quest for the zenith of happiness, many forget to take pleasure in the small things of everyday and, thus, become disgruntled and depressed instead, which leads them to a mire of gloom. ("C’est quand le bonheur “)

Este es un homenaje a los locos. A los inadaptados. A los rebeldes. A los alborotadores. A las fichas redondas en los huecos cuadrados. A los que ven las cosas de forma diferente. A ellos no les gustan las reglas, y no sienten ningún respeto por el statu quo. Puedes citarlos, discrepar de ellos, glorificarlos o vilipendiarlos. Casi lo único que no puedes hacer es ignorarlos. Porque ellos cambian las cosas. Son los que hacen avanzar al género humano. Y aunque algunos los vean como a locos, nosotros vemos su genio. Porque las personas que están lo suficientemente locas como para pensar que pueden cambiar el mundo... son quienes lo cambian

Ma vie est un désastre, mais personne ne le voit car je suis très poli : je souris tout le temps. Je souris parce que je pense que si l'on cache sa souffrance elle disparaît. Et dans un sens, c'est vrai : elle est invisible donc elle n'existe pas, puisque nous vivons dans le monde du visible, du vérifiable, du matériel. Ma douleur n'est pas matérielle ; elle est occultée. Je suis un négationniste de moi-même

Este último capítulo é todo de negativas. Não alcancei a celebridade do emplasto, não fui ministro, não fui califa, não conheci o casamento. Verdade é que, ao lado dessas faltas, coube-me a boa fortuna de não comprar o pão com o suor do meu rosto. Mais; não padeci a morte de D. Plácida, nem a semidemência do Quincas Borba. Somadas umas coisas e outras, qualquer pessoa imaginará que não houve míngua nem sobra, e conseguintemente que saí quite com a vida. E imaginará mal; porque ao chegar a este outro lado do mistério, achei-me com um pequeno saldo, que é a derradeira negativa deste capítulo de negativas: — Não tive filhos, não transmiti a nenhuma criatura o legado da nossa miséria.

-A veces eres realmente... -Gideon sacudió la cabeza, y luego inspiró hondo y dijo muy serio-: Cuando me besas, Gwendolyn Sheperd, es como si perdiera el contacto con el suelo. No tengo ni idea de cómo lo haces ni de dónde lo has aprendido. En todo caso, si ha sido en una película, tenemos que verla juntos. -Se detuvo un momento-. Lo que quiero decir es que cuando me besas, ya no quiero hacer nada más que sentirte y tenerte entre mis brazos. ¡Mierda, estoy tan terriblemente enamorado de ti que es como si hubieran volcado una lata de gasolina en mi interior y le hubieran prendido fuego! Pero en este momento no podemos... al menos uno de nosotros debe mantener la cabeza fría. -La mirada que me lanzó disipó mis dudas-. Gwenny, todo esto me da un miedo horrible. Sin ti mi vida ya no tendría ningún sentido, sin ti... querría morirme si a ti te pasara algo.

Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze. Hair: brown. Lips: scarlet. Age: five thousand three hundred days. Profession: none, or "starlet" Where are you hiding, Dolores Haze? Why are you hiding, darling? (I Talk in a daze, I walk in a maze I cannot get out, said the starling). Where are you riding, Dolores Haze? What make is the magic carpet? Is a Cream Cougar the present craze? And where are you parked, my car pet? Who is your hero, Dolores Haze? Still one of those blue-capped star-men? Oh the balmy days and the palmy bays, And the cars, and the bars, my Carmen! Oh Dolores, that juke-box hurts! Are you still dancin', darlin'? (Both in worn levis, both in torn T-shirts, And I, in my corner, snarlin'). Happy, happy is gnarled McFate Touring the States with a child wife, Plowing his Molly in every State Among the protected wild life. My Dolly, my folly! Her eyes were vair, And never closed when I kissed her. Know an old perfume called Soliel Vert? Are you from Paris, mister? L'autre soir un air froid d'opera m'alita; Son fele -- bien fol est qui s'y fie! Il neige, le decor s'ecroule, Lolita! Lolita, qu'ai-je fait de ta vie? Dying, dying, Lolita Haze, Of hate and remorse, I'm dying. And again my hairy fist I raise, And again I hear you crying. Officer, officer, there they go-- In the rain, where that lighted store is! And her socks are white, and I love her so, And her name is Haze, Dolores. Officer, officer, there they are-- Dolores Haze and her lover! Whip out your gun and follow that car. Now tumble out and take cover. Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze. Her dream-gray gaze never flinches. Ninety pounds is all she weighs With a height of sixty inches. My car is limping, Dolores Haze, And the last long lap is the hardest, And I shall be dumped where the weed decays, And the rest is rust and stardust.

Mi abuela tenía una teoría muy interesante; decía que todos nacemos con una caja de fósforos adentro, pero que no podemos encenderlos solos... necesitamos la ayuda del oxígeno y una vela. En este caso el oxígeno, por ejemplo, vendría del aliento de la persona que amamos; la vela podría ser cualquier tipo de comida, música, caricia, palabra o sonido que engendre la explosión que encenderá uno de los fósforos. Por un momento, nos deslumbra una emoción intensa. Una tibieza placentera crece dentro de nosotros, desvaneciéndose a medida que pasa el tiempo, hasta que llega una nueva explosión a revivirla. Cada persona tiene que descubrir qué disparará esas explosiones para poder vivir, puesto que la combustión que ocurre cuando uno de los fósforos se enciende es lo que nutre al alma. Ese fuego, en resumen, es su alimento. Si uno no averigua a tiempo qué cosa inicia esas explosiones, la caja de fósforos se humedece y ni uno solo de los fósforos se encenderá nunca.

Dulce Et Decorum Est Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of disappointed shells that dropped behind. GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And floundering like a man in fire or lime.-- Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,-- My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.