Good Peruvian Quotes

Oh! the metempsychosis! Oh! Pythagoras, that in bright Greece, two thousand years ago, did die, so good, so wise, so mild; I sailed with thee along the Peruvian coast last voyage—and, foolish as I am, taught thee, a green simple boy, how to splice a rope.

The Peruvian Indians, in the highlands and in the eastern watershed of the Andes, and also in the Amazon Basin, have built superb bodies with high immunity to dental caries and with splendidly developed facial and dental arch forms while living on the native foods in accordance with their accumulated wisdom. Whenever they have adopted the foods of modern civilization and have displaced their own nutrition, dental caries has been found to be wide-spread; and in the succeeding generations following the adoption of modern foods, a change in facial and dental arch forms has developed. The modernized foods which displaced their native foods were the typical white man's dietary of refined-flour products, sugar, sweetened foods, canned goods, and polished rice

Peruvian economist and anti-poverty campaigner Hernando de Soto estimates that the amount of “dead capital,” the pool of untitled property around the world, is worth about $20 trillion. If poor people could use that capital as collateral, he says, the multiplier effect from all that credit flowing through the global economy could create growth rates in excess of 10 percent in developing countries, which account for more than half of world GDP. And it’s not just land. This technology has kindled interest in how to help the poor prove ownership of a much wider array of assets, such as small business equipment and vehicles, as well as reliably show their personal good standing on questions such as creditworthiness and make sure their votes are counted.

It wasn’t clear what “emerging” meant, or how these markets might “emerge.” Still, it sounded awfully good, and it helped cloud the fact that the emerging bond an investor bought actually was a Peruvian loan that hadn’t paid any interest since the 1800s.

It is often said, as an excuse for the slaughter of animals, that it is better for them to live and to be butchered than not to live at all. … In fact, if we once admit that it is an advantage to an animal to be brought into the world, there is hardly any treatment that cannot be justified by the supposed terms of such a contract. Also, the argument must apply to mankind. It has, in fact, been the plea of the slave-breeder; and it is logically just as good an excuse for slave-holding as for flesh-eating. It would justify parents in almost any treatment of their children, who owe them, for the great boon of life, a debt of gratitude which no subsequent services can repay. We could hardly deny the same merit to cannibals, if they were to breed their human victims for the table, as the early Peruvians are said to have done.

For one, the lomo saltado was so delicious I thought I might forget my own name. It was beef tenderloin stir-fried so that the sugars in the marinade caramelized on the outside, making it crispy and chewy and as tender as the name in the middle, on a big blue platter piled high with roasted tomatoes, various salsas and chiles, and crispy fries. The idea was to wrap pieces of beef and the toppings in the scallion pancakes that came along with it. What resulted were flavor bombs, savory and spicy and fatty and crispy, all accentuated by the sweet, tangy pop of tomato. Flakes of scallion pancakes drifted from my lips down to my plate as my teeth crunched through each bite. "I can't even handle how good this is," I said, then swallowed because I couldn't wait to say it. The other two dishes we'd ordered were pretty great, too----a whole branzino marinated and charred so that we picked it clean off its spindly bones and ate it with greens and roasted peppers; a half chicken roasted with aji amarillo chile paste and served over shiitake mushrooms and a lime crema---but the lomo saltado was the true star of the table. I could already picture how it was going to look on my page. The golden-brown fries glistening with oil. The beef shaded from light pink in the center to deep brown on the edges. The ruby red tomatoes nestled among them. And the scallion pancakes serving as a lacy backdrop.

It’s always good to be a little crazy, to keep the perfectly normal people away from you.

In the early 1980s, historian Jon Halliday asked Genaro Carnero Checa, a radical Peruvian writer and frequent traveler to the DPRK who published a book on the country in 1977 entitled Korea: Rice and Steel, his honest opinion of North Korea. Checa replied, “They fought the North Americans; they have done incredible things in the economy; it’s the only Third World country where everyone has good health, good education and good housing.” Halliday then asked Checa about his view of North Korea as a poet. Checa said, “It is the saddest, most miserable country I’ve ever been in in my life. As a poet, it strikes bleakness into my heart.” Checa’s statements reflect what many in the Third World thought of North Korea during the Cold War era. On one hand, this small nation overcame Japanese imperialism, brought the mighty U.S. military to a standstill in a three-year war, and rapidly rebuilt itself into a modern socialist state. For many struggling peoples in the Third World that recently overcame decades of Western colonialism and imperialism, North Korea’s economic recovery and military prowess were justifiably admirable. On the other hand, the oppressiveness and brutality of the North Korean political system undermined the appeal of the DPRK’s developmental model to the Third World. The growing inefficiencies of North Korea’s economic system also became too obvious to ignore. In fact, Kim Il Sung’s Third World diplomacy may have furthered the DPRK’s domestic economic troubles. A former member of the North Korean elite, Kang Myong- do, said after his defection to South Korea that “excessive aid to Third World countries had caused an actual worsening of North Korea’s already serious economic problems.

Read a lot. Write a lot. Read a lot. Write a lot. Be you. Figure out who you are and then put up a flag. Keep being you. Find a way to be uniquely you on the page. Write. Don't try to write like anyone else. Beware of those who offer very specific rules. Beware the herds. Be kind. Say thank you. Remember that it's the work that makes you a writer, not your opinions. Submit your work. Repeat for decades if necessary. If interested people show up, be very nice to them! Over a breakfast beer, the Peruvian painter, Francisco Grippa, gave me the best advice I've ever received: "Be a professional, not an asshole." Everyone who will ever consider working with you will Google you first, so be a professional on the Internet too. Create, don't destroy. I try to find the good in every story I encounter. I never write negative reviews of other novels written by my fellow writers. There is a place for criticism, but I am a writer and not a critic. Be a fiction writer. And whatever you do, choose your life partner carefully. Alicia is definitely the reason I've made it this far. Once more, be kind