Lei Day Quotes

Per lei, vedo, la bellezza non ha niente a che fare con la verità." "La verità è nel fondo di un pozzo: lei guarda in un pozzo e vede il sole o la luna; ma se si butta giù non c'è più né sole né luna, c'è la verità.

I waited day and night for summer To gather me in its net. Waited For my wrongs to be sloughed away. One night, in a storm, I swallowed Thunderbolts and fallen flowers. Now my soul is broken but fragrant.

MOTHER— Mother— You lounge on a cloud Surrounded by God in His absence. Mother— I dream You are always returning. I wake and wait For your steps in the hall. Mother— Mornings, I hear you puttering. At night, you mutter and hum over the laundry. The earth is still warm from you. I see your needlework in the grasses that sway. When you were alive, I worried your hair gray. You cried like a little girl wanting her way. Mother— Losing you, my life has grown brittle. The air has lost all its give. Nothing surrounds me. My hands have never been so greedy For the warmth of your body, Or my eyes more restless, Scouring the crowd for your face in the sea. God is real. The earth perceives us. Ghosts Roam among the living, bargaining for an hour as flesh. Mother— You are a green leaf Swept from the tree by unseasonable winds To wander the heavens like a star. I pray for a day each year when we might collide. In still water I search for your eyes. Mother— How could you have lived once and not forever? How have we not gone everywhere together? Mother— I see you on your cloud, A shadow above this impossible city. I hurl my voice at the sky—Mother! And what answers back is the absence of everything That isn’t you.

My bones were broken so many times they might as well have been reformed, my skin was torn to the point of death. Yet every scar I bear reminds me of who I became, what I had lost, and what others could still lose because of things outside of their control. They are not a burden to me, nor is the pain, for it reminds me every day of what I value.” Lei Gong listened to him speak, breath held and heart stuttering. “Which is?” The dark cultivator turned toward him, eyes burning. “The same thing that you value. Justice for the sake of it, and the safeguard of those who need it. Our methods may differ, but our hearts are the same.

Capii che gli avvenimenti della vita sono sempre improvvisi. Ora come un tempo... Anche conoscendoli in anticipo, non riusciamo a prepararci spiritualmente, prima che gli eventi si realizzino. Dopo tutto, non possiamo far altro che rimanere sconvolti e soffrire nel momento in cui li proviamo sulla nostra pelle. E solo allora ci accorgiamo di cosa abbiamo perduto. Ma come altro potremmo vivere? Noi esseri umani non siamo in grado di prepararci spiritualmente a una situazione finché, a un certo punto, non ci capita, e dopo non possiamo fare altro che abituarsi un po' alla volta, impiegando tanto tempo... E' per questo che lo credo davvero, fermamente. Quando pensi di voler incontrare qualcuno, lo devi incontrare. Quando ti piace qualcuno, glielo devi dire. Quando sbocciano i fiori, facciamo festa. Quando ci innamoriamo, lasciamoci travolgere. Quando siamo allegri, condividiamo la nostra gioia. Nei momenti felici, stringiamo forte quella felicità e godiamocela al cento per cento. Probabilmente è tutto quello che noi esseri umani possiamo fare. Perciò, quando incontriamo una persona che ci è cara, mangiamo con lei, viviamo con lei, godiamoci i momenti insieme.

Ormai non mi è rimasto più nulla da fare. Ho esaurito tutte le cose che avevo scritto nella lista. A cosa potrei dedicarmi da qui in avanti?" "Dovresti fare quello che ti piace. Avrai qualche hobby, no?" "Sì, ascoltare musica, leggere libri... Ma a pensarci ora, entrambe le cose erano solo un mezzo per poter continuare a vivere. Li usavo solo per venire a compromessi con una vita altrimenti insostenibile. E ora che non devo più prolungarla a tutti i costi, la musica e i libri non sono più così importanti per me". "Dovresti apprezzarli in modo diverso, sotto un altro punto di vista. Godere della loro bellezza pura e semplice." "Però poi alla fine ricado sempre sulla stessa questione. Qualsiasi cosa ascolti o legga, si crea in me un senso di mancata appartenenza, come se io non c'entrassi nulla. A mio parere, sono opere create nella stragrande maggioranza per chi ha ancora una vita davanti. Del resto è naturale, nessuno scriverebbe per chi sta per morire". [...] Stavo per morire senza lasciare alcuna traccia. Una volta sognavo di essere immortale, ma ora non era più necessario coltivare simili speranze. Non mi interessava più che qualcuno si ricordasse di me. Perchè ora avevo lei accanto, e con lei il suo sorriso. "Allora, caro Kusunoki..." disse a un certo punto Miyagi con un sorriso strepitoso in volto. "Come vogliamo trascorrere i prossimi tre giorni?" Avevo la sensazione che quei tre giorni sarebbero stati per me molto più preziosi dei trent'anni di vita miserabile, e anche di quegli ultimi trenta giorni pur significativi, che avrei altrimenti potuto vivere. Alla fine non ero diventato nè famoso nè ricco. Ma in effetti qualcosa di meraviglioso mi era successo. Ero arrivato a pensare, dal profondo del cuore, che era valsa la pena di vivere.

That guy says your colleague has cigarettes they cut our bellies and we start clucking. he puts our 100-lei bills into piles. if i’m like other poets i should have room. i stand up and run away with the ATM. a few hens get after us. my colleague says he’s been smoking the same cigarette for three days. he takes a drag and puts a cap on it for later. we butter him up and promise him the moon and the stars if he’d just let us have a drag. we feel like kissing him long and hard on his snout to take the cigarette smoke off the roof of his mouth. and we’re so sorry that the cigarette must burn to smoulder so that we’ve something to drag on. our colleague secretly smokes in his palms. because we think that such a crappy life only in prison, not even in death. (translated from the Romanian by Diana Manole)

God strikes his holy bells—Ave Maria!—and Your hand grabs mine. We, the uncrowned Righteous, The uncrowned Incorruptible, mute of vows and Ignorant of commandments. Our practiced restraint Has earned us what? How many Sundays lived In vain? There are laws and there is Law. There is love And there is Love; Need and a nagging small want. I would be happy to forsake everything they told me To desire: glory, rejoicing, even death. To be left With only a limitless holy blank. And you? Do you remember our Old Testament phase, Quaking at the fate of whole cities abruptly erased? Now we’re onto Jesus—those feet! those wrists!— Though belief is a country that eludes us. For ceremony, we light a mosquito coil, Turn down the bed, whisper about small things Like mornings on the beach, swimming farther And farther into cold rhythmic waves, almost Eager for the greedy underside of day. God is ravenous unending fright. Blessed Virgin, safe on the shore, or high up On the cliff overlooking every sea: forget me.

Self Portrait: The camera snaps. Spits me out ugly. So I set out to paint the self within myself. It takes twelve tubes, blended to a living tint, Before I believe me. I name the mixture Color P. The hair—curious, unlikely—is my favorite, The same fluff of bangs tickling my niece’s face. And my eyebrows are wide as hills. They swallow everything. They are a feat. They do not impress me as likely to age. They are brimming with wisdom. Neither slavish nor stern. Not magnificent, but not the kind made to crumple in shame. Not prudish. Unwilling to arch and beckon like a whore’s. They skitter away from certainties like alive or dead. My self-portrait hangs on the narrow wall, And I kneel before it every day. You didn’t come to live with me.

I’ve returned to summer after a long ramble. Forest leaves mingle Into one green bouquet. I hover in your days Like an old familiar haze. Bright bars of sunlight Break through. Softer, The body is softer in sunlight, Like wax that will melt At your touch. From the ground I look up At unobstructed sky. Skirts float by. I breathe And float in thin air. All is clear. Silence Sings me to sleep.

I would have been prepared to like a relationship with him had he been capable of affection or willing to show any. From the first day of our encounter, I had come to a sad conclusion about him. If you allow yourself to love that man, you will be the unhappiest creature on earth. This man is thoroughly immature, unaware the affect of his actions to others, carousing with others, sacredly looks at you, talks of nothing but his lei sureness and such things, and pays more attention to any other people than yourself. Never such two minds resemble each other less than ours. I love reading so did he, but what did he read? He reads stories of high woman and novels that were not to my tastes (trashy novels), while I read about philosophy, history, economics, and politics to prepare me for a life career and meaningful purpose to contribute to society as well as my own personal endeavors.

He tried to hide behind a bunch of feathers, but Nikulo stopped and glared at him. “Cowering already? You know you don’t have a chance of winning the Blood Dagger.”  The Blood Dagger competition. Talis thought of the sparring competition held once a year and froze, realizing he’d forgotten all about it. Wasn’t it only a few days away? With Mara injured, they had already moved the date, but Talis knew that House Lei and House Storm would never allow Talis and Mara to forfeit to the likes of Nikulo and Rikar, his sparring partner. Claiming rights to hold the Blood Dagger for a year meant far too much to the royal houses, especially since their house had lost claim to the victor’s rights over the last few years. Nikulo’s coffee-brown eyes sparkled as if he were eager to tell a new joke. He waddled close to Talis, holding a porcelain jar in one hand. He yanked up silk pants that kept falling below his protruding belly. He scratched his curly hair and released a smoky fart, blowing the fumes in Talis' direction. Talis coughed, retreating quickly. Nikulo never should have swallowed that last potion he concocted. All his farts smelled like sulfur and spoiled onions.  “Thanks for that, just what I needed.” Talis rubbed his stinging eyes. “What are you doing slumming in Fiskar’s Market? Finding more noxious ingredients for your potions?” Nikulo moved the jar away from Talis. “No… nothing of the sort.” He frowned and pursed his lips. “Why are you holding a feather?” “It’s

By the time he spotted the City of Naru from afar, moonlight sent long, wiry shadows across the hillside leading up to the towering stone walls. He told himself he could do it. No matter how hard it was to continue carrying her, he was determined to bring her home alive.  Lights flickered from countless braziers mounted hundreds of feet high on the upper part of the city. Naru stood ominous under the garish light of the four moon sisters and as the evening gong sounded from atop a watchtower, Talis knew he had made it.  He stumbled toward the main gates, barely able to stand. A group of soldiers making their rounds noticed and ran over to help.  “Young Master Talis, what’s wrong?” said Baratis, the captain of the guard. His eyes blazed in fear at the sight of Mara. “Is she alive?” “I can’t talk now… open the gates… she’s hurt!”  “Carem and Jorem! Help them,” Baratis shouted. “You! Ride and fetch a healer. Have them run straightaway to House Lei. Now go!” Two soldiers lifted Mara from Talis' arms and carried her while another raced inside the city. Massive steel shafts stared down at them from inside the stone walls as they jogged past. If they weren’t quick about it, she would die. Ahead, Talis could see a soldier speed off on horseback. He prayed that the healer would arrive in time. He ran ahead, urging them to run faster.    Past the gate was the Arena of the Sej Elders, formed of gigantic white granite blocks, rising over everything in the lower part of the city. Stone towers lined the wide avenue leading up to the arena. They had to move faster. The soldiers’ boots clapped against the cobblestone streets as they marched past the arena, finally winding up and around until they reached the gates of the upper city. Up the snaking rise, they charged past merchant shops and eyes that gawked at the soldiers carrying Mara. They continued on to the highest part of the city, beneath the Temple of the Goddess Nestria, the Goddess of the Sky. To Mara’s house, the House of Viceroy Lei and Lady Malvia, daughter of the king and second in line to the throne.  They were going to be furious; Talis knew he was in serious trouble for taking Mara out on the hunt. But he couldn’t think of that, all that mattered was Mara’s life. As the soldiers carried her into the white marble mansion, Talis worried her wounds were too grave to cure. Today was the worst day and he was all to blame. Why did he have to chase after the boar? Two servants ran up and gasped when they noticed Mara and they quickly helped her inside.  Lady Malvia rushed to them, her silver robe swirling.

In the old days, when Hawaiians wanted to give a gift, they doesn't have Safeway. Or any money. They had to take from nature what the gods gave them. Gather the flowers, make the twine, string the flowers. Lots of time and effort. We do the work just to say, 'I love you.' No meaning when we buy a lei in the supermarket.

protests. A wound like that was incredibly dangerous. If he didn’t get her to a healer soon, he knew Mara would die. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. After a long while, he was too tired to carry her, so he rested for a bit, his breath heaving and stiff arms and legs protesting. Even though it was almost dark, Talis could see that Mara’s face looked white as chalk. He had to keep going, no matter what, no matter how much his legs and back burned from carrying her. By the time he spotted the City of Naru from afar, moonlight sent long, wiry shadows across the hillside leading up to the towering stone walls. He told himself he could do it. No matter how hard it was to continue carrying her, he was determined to bring her home alive. Lights flickered from countless braziers mounted hundreds of feet high on the upper part of the city. Naru stood ominous under the garish light of the four moon sisters and as the evening gong sounded from atop a watchtower, Talis knew he had made it. He stumbled toward the main gates, barely able to stand. A group of soldiers making their rounds noticed and ran over to help. “Young Master Talis, what’s wrong?” said Baratis, the captain of the guard. His eyes blazed in fear at the sight of Mara. “Is she alive?” “I can’t talk now… open the gates… she’s hurt!” “Carem and Jorem! Help them,” Baratis shouted. “You! Ride and fetch a healer. Have them run straightaway to House Lei. Now go!” Two soldiers lifted Mara from Talis' arms and carried her while another raced atop a horse into the city. Massive steel shafts stared down at them from inside the stone walls as they jogged past. If they weren’t quick about it, she would die. Ahead, Talis could see a soldier speed off on horseback. He prayed that the healer would arrive in time. He ran ahead, urging them to run faster. Past the gate was the Arena of the Sej Elders, formed of gigantic white granite blocks, rising over everything in the lower part of the city. Stone towers lined the wide avenue leading up to the arena. They had to move faster. The soldiers’ boots clapped against the cobblestone streets as they marched past the arena, finally winding up and around until they reached the gates of the upper city. Up the snaking rise, they charged past merchant shops and eyes that gawked at the soldiers carrying Mara. They continued on to the highest part of the city, beneath the Temple of the Goddess Nestria, the Goddess of the Sky. To Mara’s house, the House of Viceroy Lei and Lady Malvia, daughter of the king and second in line to the throne. They were going to be furious; Talis knew he was in serious trouble for going with Mara out on the hunt. But he couldn’t think of that, all that mattered was Mara’s life. As the soldiers carried her into the white marble mansion, Talis worried her wounds were too grave to cure. Today was the worst day and he blamed himself. Why hadn’t he stopped Mara from going after the boar? He could have scared it off. She would have been angry at him, but at least she wouldn’t be injured. Two servants ran up and gasped when they noticed Mara. They quickly helped her inside, shouting for help.

Love makes every day a joy, every moment a memory....

Ed io perdo velocemente il controllo, mosso dal desiderio, dalla passione, dall’amore che provo per lei dalla prima volta in cui l’ho vista e ho capito che non sarebbe mai stata mia.

Se você fica sabendo de uma coisa — e isso é uma lei natural —, não pode mais não saber.

soldiers carrying Mara. They continued on, to the highest part of the city, beneath the Temple of the Goddess Nestria, the Goddess of the Sky. To Mara’s house, the House of Viceroy Lei and Lady Malvia, daughter of the king and second in line to the throne.  They were going to be furious, Talis knew he was in serious trouble for taking Mara out on the hunt. But he couldn’t think about any of that, all that mattered now was Mara’s life. As the soldiers carried Mara into the white marble mansion, Talis worried that her wounds were too grave to cure. Today was the worst day,

At that same time, the Communist regime let the inflation run its course and then, devalued the currency. They issued a new kind of lei. Everybody could exchange 80,000 lei for 20 new lei. The day before the exchange, I had 2 million lei. For that amount, I bought two pairs of hand crocheted summer gloves; there was nothing else available. I would have preferred to purchase a kilo meat, but that was out of the question, unrealistic thinking.

The Blood Dagger competition. Talis thought of the sparring competition held once a year, and froze, realizing he’d forgotten all about it. Wasn’t it only a few days away? With Mara injured, they’d moved the date, but Talis knew that House Lei and House Storm would never allow Talis and Mara to forfeit to the likes of Nikulo and Rikar, his sparring partner. Claiming rights to holding the Blood Dagger for a year meant far too much to the royal houses, especially since their house had lost claim to the victor’s rights over the last few years.

The soldiers’ boots clapped against the cobblestone streets as they marched past the arena, finally winding around until they reached the gates to the upper city. Up the snaking rise, they charged past merchant shops and eyes that gawked at the soldiers carrying Mara. They continued on, to the highest part of the city, beneath the Temple of the Goddess Nestria, the Goddess of the Sky. To Mara’s house, the House of Viceroy Lei and Lady Malvia, daughter of the king and second in line to the throne.  They were going to be furious, Talis knew he was in serious trouble for taking Mara out on the hunt. But he couldn’t think about any of that, all that mattered now was Mara’s life. As the soldiers carried Mara into the white marble mansion, Talis worried that her wounds were too grave to cure. Today was the worst day, and he was all to blame. Why did he have to chase after the boar? Two servants ran up and gasped when they noticed Mara, and they quickly helped her inside.  Lady Malvia rushed towards them, her silver robe swirling behind. “What has happened to my daughter? She’s so pale, can someone tell me why she’s so pale?

One day, Commissar Lei came to speak with Ye. By this time, Yang Weining and Lei Zhicheng had swapped places in her eyes. During those years, Yang, as the highest-ranked technical officer, did not enjoy a high political status, and outside of technical matters he had little authority. He had to be careful with his subordinates, and had to speak politely even to the sentries, lest he be deemed to have an intellectual’s resistant attitude toward thought reform and collaboration with the masses. Thus, whenever he encountered difficulties in his work, Ye became his punching bag. But as Ye gained importance as a technical staff member, Commissar Lei gradually shed his initial rudeness and coldness and became kind toward her

Pieter Botha, o ministro da Defesa da República da África do Sul, passa revista ao seu exército que regressa da guerra, na ponte fronteiriça sobre o rio Cunene. Embora os soldados atravessem a ponte em silêncio, há berros e gritaria nas proximidades, visto que, ao mesmo tempo, as unidades da FNLA e da UNITA que, até àquele momento, tinham acompanhado os soldados brancos sul-africanos, estão a atirar-se ao rio em massa, tentando chegar à Namíbia. Muitos deles morrem afogados. Mas a guerra terminou, a democracia da frente de combate acabou; e a lei da segregação volta a aplicar-se: a travessia pela ponte é só para brancos

I can’t give you rainbows without my storms. There’s no sunshine without my hurricanes. My love, there will be days when I am the hardest person to choose, when I can be the most distant human being but trust me when I say that those are also the days I will be needing all your love. Staying with me isn’t always a paradise, most days are just ugly and unbearable. I wish you’d choose me still. I hope to overcome these struggles with you because after all, I’d do the same for you.

it was hard to believe God had a plan when she’d spent the day looking for the crime scene where two young girls were drowned.

Left unsatisfied, the craving for sensations can become an actual hunger. A few years ago on a trip to Kauai, I noticed something funny. Five days in, I hadn’t had a single snack between meals. This was strange because, at home, I’m an inveterate grazer. There’s nearly always a packet of trail mix or a bowl of popcorn on my desk. But on this vacation, not a nibble. I realized that in Hawaii I was surrounded all day by the lush textures of the jungle, the whoosh of the ocean, and the smell of salt water. I had my feet in volcanic sand and a lei of plumeria flowers around my neck. I was satiated, head to toe. Sure enough, by 11:00 a.m. on that first day back in the office, I had my head in the snack cabinet, hunting for almonds. People are quick to blame habits, and to dismiss this as mindless eating, but I believe that ignores the root cause. In our humdrum environments, we live with a sensorial hunger, and without any other means to satisfy it, we feed it.

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