Just You Ni Quotes

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My mind was quickly consumed with thoughts of my girlfriend and all the good times we had had, like one of those cheesy montages ni eighties movies, when the angsty protagonist envisions himself and his ex holding hands on the beach, feeding a small puppy, getting into some kind of zany wrestling match with whipped cream. I interrupted my cliché memories by saying aloud: "Ugh, I'm feeling pretty low about this whole thing." "You just gotta try to put it out of your head," he said, folding the paper halfway down to look at me. "I know, it's just hard. I mean, I still have stuff at her place. What am I going to do about that? I still have a TV...," I said. "Fuck the TV. Leave the TV. Cut your ties." "It's a fifteen-hundred-dollar TV," I insisted. "Go get that fucking TV.
Justin Halpern (Sh*t My Dad Says)
De pronto no puedo decirte lo que yo te debo decir, hombre,perdóname; sabrás que aunque no escuches mis palabras no me eché a llorar ni a dormir y que contigo estoy sin verte desde hace tiempo y hasta el fin. I can't just suddenly tell you what I should be telling you, friend, forgive me; you know that although you don't hear my words, I wasn't asleep or in tears, that I am with you without seeing you for a good long time and until the end.
Pablo Neruda
If you don't want her to go, you should say it. Those jerks who can't say a word no matter how much time passes ... I just don't get them. If they're doing whatever the hell they want ... then you should do what you want too. I hate those jerks who fool themselves into thinking that just because they clam up, nobody knows what's going on with them!!
Clamp (ツバサ-RESERVoir CHRoNiCLE- 19)
I can’t be seen climbing through no hearse’s hatchback! It used to be dead bodies back there!” “You a lie. Me and my woman ain’t dead,” Cousin Shake insisted. My eyes popped wide open. The visual he’d just painted was about to send me crazy. “Cousin
Ni-Ni Simone (Shortie Like Mine (Ni-Ni Girl Chronicles))
Stop it. Just stop. If I wanted you dead, if I wanted any of you dead, you'd be dead! Ru guo wo xiang ni si, ni men si ding le!" I translated, in my flabby Chinese. Which was so patently true under the circumstances-- since I was having to work extremely hard to not kill them all-- that it made a visible impression all round. Well, as much as it could while everyone was actively terrified that I was in fact about to kill them all. At least they had certainly stopped worrying about doing any killing of their own. Even Orion had got over being enraged and was just standing gawking at me-- in an infuriatingly starry-eyed way, in his case, demonstrating his continuing total lack of judgment of sense.
Naomi Novik (The Last Graduate (The Scholomance, #2))
No soy coreano, ni japonés, soy un nómada desarraigado," he muttered. "Huh?" "It's Spanish. I always wanted to be a Spaniard." I didn't reply. "But it didn't work out. Turns out, it wasn't just about speaking the language." "Language has everything to do with your identity--" "In theory maybe," he said, cutting me off. "But we live in circumstances that can't always be explained away by logic. You'll understand someday.
Kazuki Kaneshiro (Go)
The things about you I appreciate May seem indelicate: I'd like to find you in the shower And chase the soap for half an hour. I'd like to have you in my power And see your eyes dilate. I'd like to have your back to scour And other parts to lubricate. Sometimes I feel it is my fate To chase you screaming up a tower Or make you cower By asking you to differentiate Nietzsche from Schopenhauer. I'd like successfully to guess your weight And win you at a fête. I'd like to offer you a flower. I like the hair upon your shoulders, Falling like water over boulders. I like the shoulders too: they are essential. Your collar-bones have great potential (I'd like your particulars in folders Marked Confidential). I like your cheeks, I like your nose, I like the way your lips disclose The neat arrangement of your teeth (Half above and half beneath) In rows. I like your eyes, I like their fringes. The way they focus on me gives me twinges. Your upper arms drive me berserk. I like the way your elbows work. On hinges … I like your wrists, I like your glands, I like the fingers on your hands. I'd like to teach them how to count, And certain things we might exchange, Something familiar for something strange. I'd like to give you just the right amount And get some change. I like it when you tilt your cheek up. I like the way you not and hold a teacup. I like your legs when you unwind them. Even in trousers I don't mind them. I like each softly-moulded kneecap. I like the little crease behind them. I'd always know, without a recap, Where to find them. I like the sculpture of your ears. I like the way your profile disappears Whenever you decide to turn and face me. I'd like to cross two hemispheres And have you chase me. I'd like to smuggle you across frontiers Or sail with you at night into Tangiers. I'd like you to embrace me. I'd like to see you ironing your skirt And cancelling other dates. I'd like to button up your shirt. I like the way your chest inflates. I'd like to soothe you when you're hurt Or frightened senseless by invertebrates. I'd like you even if you were malign And had a yen for sudden homicide. I'd let you put insecticide Into my wine. I'd even like you if you were Bride Of Frankenstein Or something ghoulish out of Mamoulian's Jekyll and Hyde. I'd even like you as my Julian Or Norwich or Cathleen ni Houlihan. How melodramatic If you were something muttering in attics Like Mrs Rochester or a student of Boolean Mathematics. You are the end of self-abuse. You are the eternal feminine. I'd like to find a good excuse To call on you and find you in. I'd like to put my hand beneath your chin, And see you grin. I'd like to taste your Charlotte Russe, I'd like to feel my lips upon your skin I'd like to make you reproduce. I'd like you in my confidence. I'd like to be your second look. I'd like to let you try the French Defence And mate you with my rook. I'd like to be your preference And hence I'd like to be around when you unhook. I'd like to be your only audience, The final name in your appointment book, Your future tense.
John Fuller
Seriously... a sermon is not going to achieve anything. We all know perfectly well that one must not commit suicide. And yet there are times when the world we live in becomes so tough on us that we play with the thought. Therefore, it's useless to appeal to ethics; he ought to go with a more practical and concrete approach. If I were to stop suicide, I would do it like this: "Dying means falling into an eternal state of nothingness, a perfect void that can't be conceived by anything that is alive. Just think about it: your brain goes away. You do not have any thought anymore. Surely, you've heard of the phrase 'I think, thus I am,' no? Give it some careful thought. Nothing exists. Do you get this? Nothing exists. How many seconds could you endure being in a world without sound, without light, and without any kind of sensation? A world where you don't even get hungry. Where you have no desires at all. Can you follow me? But death is a perfect void, so it exceeds even such a sensation-less world. There is no future. Heaven is just a construct people who fear death made up. You should know why there will always be people who believe in a world after death despite the advent of science; it's because they are scared. Scared of what waits beyond death. So, don't think ending your own life will save you! It simply ends. It E-N-D-S. Suicide is the act of killing yourself, and dying without comprehending the meaning of death is but escaping from reality. Although the result is the same in both cases. All right, come on. Try to kill yourself if you can; try to kill yourself now that you've learned the truth." At the very least, I couldn't kill myself. After all, the only reason why I'm here now is because I'm more afraid of death than most.
Eiji Mikage (神栖麗奈は此処にいる [Kamisu Reina Wa Koko Ni Iru] (神栖麗奈シリーズ #1))
No one waited in line at the counter, thanks to Dagon and Eliana’s tardy entry. “Morning, Kusgan,” she trilled when the elder Segonian stepped up to the counter. Kusgan greeted her with a wide smile. “And how are you today, ni’má?” “Hungry,” she declared. “What do you have for me? Something spicy, I hope?” “Indeed.” When Kusgan turned his attention to Dagon, his eyes sparkled with amusement as though he had guessed just how and with whom she had worked up an appetite. “And for you, Commander?” “The usual.” His lips twitched. “A larger portion perhaps?” Dagon laughed. “I would appreciate that, yes.” Heat crept up her neck to her cheeks. As Kusgan turned away and headed into the kitchen, she leaned closer to Dagon and whispered, “Am I blushing? Because I feel like he’s guessed why I’m so hungry and you’re all smiles this morning.” He regarded her cheeks with a grin. “Yes, you’re blushing.” Groaning, she brought her hands up to cover her face. “Curse my pale skin,” she grumbled. “It won’t let me hide anything.” “Would it make you feel better if Iblushed?” She peeked up at him through her fingers. And as she watched, his cheeks flushed a vivid pink, demonstrating anew his ability to change his coloring at will. Laughing in delight, she dropped her hands. “Yes!” Then she poked him in the chest as the heat in her own cheeks faded. “I dare you to walk around like that all day.” Smiling, he abandoned the pink camouflage and let his face return to its natural color. “If I did, the men would get no work done because they’d all be too busy wondering what the srulyou did in bed that left me blushing for hours afterward.” Eyes widening, she laughed. “You’re right. Don’t do it.
Dianne Duvall (The Segonian (Aldebarian Alliance, #2))
What a joy this book is! I love recipe books, but it’s short-lived; I enjoy the pictures for several minutes, read a few pages, and then my eyes glaze over. They are basically books to be used in the kitchen for one recipe at a time. This book, however, is in a different class altogether and designed to be read in its entirety. It’s in its own sui generis category; it has recipes at the end of most of the twenty-one chapters, but it’s a book to be read from cover to cover, yet it could easily be read chapter by chapter, in any order, as they are all self-contained. Every bite-sized chapter is a flowing narrative from a well-stocked brain encompassing Balinese culture, geography and history, while not losing its main focus: food. As you would expect from a scholar with a PhD in history from Columbia University, the subject matter has been meticulously researched, not from books and articles and other people’s work, but from actually being on the ground and in the markets and in the kitchens of Balinese families, where the Balinese themselves learn their culinary skills, hands on, passed down orally, manually and practically from generation to generation. Vivienne Kruger has lived in Bali long enough to get it right. That’s no mean feat, as the subject has not been fully studied before. Yes, there are so-called Balinese recipe books, most, if I’m not mistaken, written by foreigners, and heavily adapted. The dishes have not, until now, been systematically placed in their proper cultural context, which is extremely important for the Balinese, nor has there been any examination of the numerous varieties of each type of recipe, nor have they been given their true Balinese names. This groundbreaking book is a pleasure to read, not just for its fascinating content, which I learnt a lot from, but for the exuberance, enthusiasm and originality of the language. There’s not a dull sentence in the book. You just can’t wait to read the next phrase. There are eye-opening and jaw-dropping passages for the general reader as Kruger describes delicacies from the village of Tengkudak in Tabanan district — grasshoppers, dragonflies, eels and live baby bees — and explains how they are caught and cooked. She does not shy away from controversial subjects, such as eating dog and turtle. Parts of it are not for the faint-hearted, but other parts make you want to go out and join the participants, such as the Nusa Lembongan fishermen, who sail their outriggers at 5.30 a.m. The author quotes Miguel Covarrubias, the great Mexican observer of the 1930s, who wrote “The Island of Bali.” It has inspired all writers since, including myself and my co-author, Ni Wayan Murni, in our book “Secrets of Bali, Fresh Light on the Morning of the World.” There is, however, no bibliography, which I found strange at first. I can only imagine it’s a reflection of how original the subject matter is; there simply are no other sources. Throughout the book Kruger mentions Balinese and Indonesian words and sometimes discusses their derivations. It’s a Herculean task. I was intrigued to read that “satay” comes from the Tamil word for flesh ( sathai ) and that South Indians brought satay to Southeast Asia before Indonesia developed its own tradition. The book is full of interesting tidbits like this. The book contains 47 recipes in all, 11 of which came from Murni’s own restaurant, Murni’s Warung, in Ubud. Mr Dolphin of Warung Dolphin in Lovina also contributed a number of recipes. Kruger adds an introduction to each recipe, with a detailed and usually very personal commentary. I think my favorite, though, is from a village priest (pemangku), I Made Arnila of the Ganesha (Siwa) Temple in Lovina. water. I am sure most will enjoy this book enormously; I certainly did.” Review published in The Jakarta Globe, April 17, 2014. Jonathan Copeland is an author and photographer based in Bali. thejakartaglobe/features/spiritual-journey-culinary-world-bali
Vivienne Kruger
Después sentía claramente en su oído la vibración de aquella réplica que la había hecho estremecer, que aún la alumbraba, porque las palabras se repetían sin cesar como la pieza de una caja de música, cuyo cilindro, sonada la última nota, da la primera. «¿ Pero qué te has figurado, que mi mujer es como tú? ¿De dónde has sacado esa historia infame? ¿Quién te ha metido en la cabeza esas ideas? Mi mujer es sagrada. Mi mujer no tiene mancilla. Yo no la merezco a ella, y por lo mismo la respeto y la admiro más. Mi mujer, entiéndelo bien, está muy por encima de todas las calumnias. Tengo en ella una fe absoluta, ciega, y ni la más ligera duda puede molestarme. Then she felt vibrating in her ear the reply that had made her tremble and still upset her because the words repeated themselves endlessly, like a music box whose cylinder no sooner strikes the last note than it starts the tune again. "Just what did you think? That my wife is like you? Where did you hear that vile story? Who put those ideas into your head? My wife is sacred. My wife is immaculate. I don't deserve her, and for that very reason I respect and admire her all the more. My wife – get this straight, now – is above any sort of slander. I have absolute, blind faith in her, and not even the slightest doubt could trouble me. Translation: Agnes Moncy Gullón
Benito Pérez Galdós (Fortunata and Jacinta)
Maybe we can help. Where are you from? I've never seen you around here before. And, how did you get that cut? Where are you staying?” He shook his head and giggled. “Are you the police? You ask a lot of questions Phoenix.” “No. I just ... never mind.” I wanted to know more about him. The way those sparkly green eyes gazed at me. The way his dimples sunk deep into his cheeks, as he smiled and said my name with his deep voice.
N.I.
IN HONOR OF HARPER LEE, WHOSE NOVEL PLAYS A SIGNIFICANT PART IN "FINDING GRACE" I SHARE THESE LINES: Violet and I met at our fort at one o’clock. On our way over to Maryann’s we talked about the book, which Vi called T-KAM for short. I wasn’t sure how to ask, but I had to know. “Hey…what’d you think about the part where Scout asks Atticus if he’s a…um…you know, a…ni–Negro-lover?” Vi gave me a sideways glance. “You can say it. I know you don’t mean any harm. Scout asked him if he was a nigger-lover, but she’s just a confused kid. I really liked that he told her he was one.” “That part shocked me.” “Yeah, and the next time someone yells nigger-lover at my family I’m going to be like Atticus Finch and tell them that I’m trying to love everybody.” Violet grabbed my hand. “But you know what’s crazy?” Her eyes narrowed, bridged together by two hard lines. Her mouth shifted into a frown so fast that I braced myself. “What?” “When people say that, I never know if I’m the nigger or the nigger-lover.
Patricia Dunn-Fierstein (Finding Grace)
And you say to yourself, They will remember him. He will make them remember him. He's hollering from the back of the bus of history, just so they'll know who he is. So Vanessa will know him. And Cecil. And Maddy. And Laura. And Helen. And even little Ni Ni and the twins Malcolm and Malik. And in knowing who he is, maybe they will one day know who they are.
James McBride
In that moment, the difference between agaru and noboru became clear. Words that had been floating in chaos swiftly grouped themselves into interlocking sets. In his mind’s eye he saw an agaru tower and a noboru tower, each one soaring high in perfect, beautiful balance. Forgetful of Kaguya’s presence in the room, forgetful of her invitation, he pursued the thoughts unfolding in his mind at bewildering speed. Controlling his excitement, he murmured, “That’s it. That’s it.” Agaru emphasized the place reached by upward movement, whereas noboru emphasized the process of upward movement. When inviting someone to “come on up for a cup of tea,” you used agaru, never noboru. That’s because the focus was on reaching a place suitable for drinking tea—the interior of the house, a step up from the outside—rather than the process of moving indoors. For “to climb a mountain,” the reverse was true; the correct verb was definitely noboru, as the emphasis was on the action of physically moving up the face of the mountain toward the summit, not just the moment of reaching the summit. Then what about that expression ten ni mo noboru kimochi (a feeling of rising to heaven)? Majime ruminated on the feeling he had experienced a moment before. Noboru was correct, not agaru, because his joy still had room to grow; he hadn’t yet attained heaven itself. Then he thought of something else.
Shion Miura (The Great Passage)
- N∆i∆, tell me, if I won't erase you, what then? What can I get for this? - Are you serious, after what you saw last night? - What did I see? That post-nuclear winter? I don't know what year it will be because no one wanted to tell me. - Because there was no one there. That was obvious. Just this guy, probably older than me. He got lost too. - There were the platform and buildings, some trees and those damned cobwebs. And him, he doesn't know where he came from, he didn't know himself, did he? - He was probably lost if it wasn't his order. Or he was trying to warn you. And he was probably dead. That's my understanding. Anything else you want to know? - I'll remember in a moment. I think these were all the biggest cities in the world. - The smaller ones as well. You give me something and I give you something. The contract. If you can remove this Programme at all. People want the Anunnaki.
Eve Janson (The Queen of Noland)
just walked into a glass door. Full force. Ni-Ni Did the door win? Not Zesty It definitely did Tis Moi Luca You know you’re supposed to open the door first, right? Not Zesty Thanks for the tip, Luca. I’ll remember that next time. Ni-Ni Just tell everyone you were testing the door’s
Clara Nielsen (Singers Don't Date Fangirls (Texting the Boyband #3))