Louise Michel Quotes

Notre place dans le l'humanité [en tant que femme] ne doit pas être mendiée, mais prise

Notre plus grande erreur fut de n'avoir pas planté le pieu au cœur du vampire : la finance.

J’ignore où se livrera le combat entre le vieux monde et le nouveau, mais peu importe : j’y serai.

I’d better make a list of all the things that make me feel good. Lists save lives. They keep our memories alive, as Umberto Eco says in The Infinity of Lists. Here goes: Laura’s voice message letting me know she’s at an LGBT+ rights demo like she’d tell me she was popping down to the shops, and warning me not to pick up if her boyfriend calls; he’s looking for her, and fretting because he can’t find her, and anyway he ‘doesn’t even know the difference between gay and straight’ Raffaella’s voice messages and her joy when she receives our books Maicol tearing through the cobbled streets of Lucignana, drunk on life My great-niece Rebecca joining the bookshop family and the certainty her cynicism will blossom into something completely unexpected My father’s existence The coffee I’m about to have with Tessa, who’s on her way to us on her motorbike with a box full of bookmarks, our official bookmarks she’s been gifting us since that day after the fire, with a quote from her mother Lynn Emanuele Trevi and Giovanni Giovannetti absconding from the literary conference in Lucca, later found smoking weed in a car in Piazza San Michele by a security guard, who happened to be the writer Vincenzo Pardini, so he let them go Ernesto and Mum cuddling on the sofa Daniele’s Barbara and Maurizio’s Barbara Ricchi e Poveri Donatella being sure Romano fancies her My mother trying to escape her hospital bed as soon as I look the other way Tina’s mother Mike quickly wrapping a towel around his waist as I walk into his garden and Mike leaving Brighton with two large boxes of tea stashed in his boot, concocting a story for the customs officers The anglers reading Louise Glück and Lawrence Ferlinghetti on the Segone The words I only ever hear in Lucignana: lollers and slackies and ‘bumming down’ to pee My own continued, miraculous existence.

was that before the snow melted one of them would be dead. And one of them would have done it. “Interesting” didn’t begin to describe what was about to happen. CHAPTER 8 “Don’t look now,” Beauvoir bent down and whispered in Gamache’s ear. “Brébeuf and Leduc have found each other.” Jean-Guy watched Leduc place a friendly hand on the older man’s arm. Confrères, Beauvoir thought. Brothers. Two of a kind. Commander Gamache didn’t turn to look. Instead he gestured toward a chair recently vacated. Jean-Guy considered it. It was black leather and looked like a mouth about to snap shut. Resigning himself to it, he sat down, sliding to the back of the seat. “Merde,” he whispered. It was, without doubt, the most comfortable chair he’d ever sat in. It was just one of a number of unexpected things in the room. So much had happened so quickly when Jean-Guy accepted the post as second-in-command, he hadn’t had a chance yet to ask Gamache about keeping Leduc on. And bringing Brébeuf back. Either decision would be considered ill advised. Together they seemed reckless, verging on lunacy. Putting them on the same campus was bad enough, but inviting them to the same party? Then giving them alcohol? Beauvoir wondered, in passing, if either man was armed. Gamache had forbidden firearms among the staff, even the Sûreté officers on loan to the academy. And so Jean-Guy, against his will and instincts, had left his pistol locked up at Sûreté headquarters. As Beauvoir watched, the two men grew more and more chummy. Leduc animated, and Brébeuf more contained, nodding. Agreeing. Michel Brébeuf, the former superintendent of the Sûreté, had been one of the most powerful officers in the force before his disgrace. Serge Leduc had been the most

eight different cities before he was sixteen years old. Georgia O’Keeffe lived in the shadow of her “perfect” older brother Francis. And Jean-Michel Basquiat triumphed over poverty to become one of the world’s most influential artists. Kid Artists tells their stories and more with full-color cartoon illustrations on nearly every page. Other subjects include Claude Monet, Jacob Lawrence, Leonardo da Vinci, Vincent van Gogh, Pablo Picasso, Frida Kahlo, Beatrix Potter, Yoko Ono, Dr. Seuss, Emily Carr, Keith Haring, Charles Schulz, and Louise Nevelson.

MARIE-LOUISE. […] J’ai lu dans le Sélection, l’aut’jour, qu’une famille c’est comme une cellule vivante, que chaque membre de la famille doit contribuer à la vie de la cellule… Cellule mon cul… Ah! Oui, pour être une cellule, c’est une cellule, mais pas de c’te sorte-là! Nous autres, quand on se marie, c’est pour être tu-seuls ensemble. Toé [Léopold], t’es tu-seule, ton mari à côté de toé est tu-seul, pis tes enfants sont tu-seuls de leur bord… Pis tout le monde se regarder comme chien et chat… Une gang de tu-seuls ensemble, c’est ça qu’on est!