Luis Miguel Quotes

love connot be tore love can niether be broken love can never be lost

No habra nadie que destruye de tu alma la verdad.

Puisque je demande l'impossible, le possible lui même me sera refusé

Miguel Angel," he said, "It isn't hard to die. Everybody does it. Even flies do it. Everyone here is doing it. We're all terminal." He had a tear in his eye; Big Angel could see it brimming. "Your schedule is just different from mine.

San Miguel –llega a decir San Agustín–, aún siendo el príncipe de toda la milicia celestial, es el más celoso en rendirle y hacer que otros le rindan toda clase de honores, esperando siempre sus órdenes para volar en socorro de alguno de sus servidores”.

La douleur de Pierre, à l’aurore, grandit et sa honte croit, et bien qu’il ne voie là personne, il a honte de lui-même à la vue de son péché : pour éveiller la honte en un cœur magnanime il n’est pas besoin qu’il se sache vu ; il a honte de soi quand il faute, n’eût-il d’autres témoins que le ciel et la terre.

Latin America possesses some Western traits, this cannot be denied. The Spanish legacy, Christianity, and a high number of original writers (e.g. Jorge Luis Borges, known for his invention of the philosophical short story, Rubén Darío and the modernismo poetic movement, Alejo Carpentier, Miguel Ángel Asturias and Julio Cortázar, to name but a few).

It is a revelation to compare the Don Quixote of Pierre Menard with that of Miguel de Cervantes. Cervantes, for example, wrote the following (Part I, Chapter IX): ...truth, whose mother is history, rival of time, depository of deeds, witness of the past, exemplar and adviser to the present, and the future's counselor. This catalog of attributes, written in the seventeenth century, and written by the "ingenious layman" Miguel de Cervantes, is mere rhetorical praise of history. Menard, on the other hand, writes: ...truth, whose mother is history, rival of time, depository of deeds, witness of the past, exemplar and adviser to the present, and the future's counselor. History, the mother of truth! - the idea is staggering. Menard, a contemporary of William James, defines history not as delving into reality but as the very font of reality. Historical truth, for Menard, is not "what happened"; it is what we believe happened. The final phrases - exemplar and adviser to the present, and the future's counselor - are brazenly pragmatic.

Once can, and should be, suspicious of assumptions. Just because a sinner says he has a gun pointed at the head of a confessor doesn’t mean it should be believed. Empirical proof is ncescessary, and the wooden screen between them does not allow for that.

Someone who wants to believe must doubt first. Faith comes after doubt, not before. - Tarcisio Bertone

The Bible is the first historical, fantastic, science fiction, gospel, thriller, and romance novel since the beginning of the time. - Jacopo

Do you know that after all these centuries and millennia, everything we read in the Bible still has no archeological confirmation? - Jacopo

Conversation between friends are continuous. Even if they are years apart, they always resume them, as if they had just seen each other only the day before.

History tends to write itself with deep chisel marks that disappear only with the passage of time, dissolving in oblivious rain. Insignificant people will never be remembered on bronze plaques that record their birth, the place they lived, or their achievements. They remain only in the memory of those who lost them, until they, too, disappear under a forgotten gravestone.

History never lies. Books that record it can relate what they understand: truths, lies, half-truths equivalent to lies, speculation, eulogies, historic acts that never happened. Glorious acts last because someone was paid to extol them. There’s no better example than Rome, the Eternal City, the glory of God on eart, where he chose to dwell, without doubt.

Circumstances. All of life is an accumulation of unknown and imponderable factors, uncontrollable and totally unforeseen, that can be summarized in that simple and powerful word: circumstances.

..but remember that mourning is a selfish act. To weep for someone who dies is an offense to the life that he lived and we lived with him. - Hans Schmidt

How can I trust you? You can’t. A person’s words are worth very little. Things are always changing. What works today doesnt work tomorrow. It’s human nature. - JC

Il se laissait assoupir dans des odeurs de camphre et d'amandiers. Parfois, dans le calme de la nuit, il éprouvait la nostalgie du passé. Quand on évoquait devant lui l'adolescent rêvant à de fabuleux trésors, croyant à un destin extraordinaire, il ne se reconnaissait pas dans ce portrait. Il lui fallut beaucoup de temps avant de prêter à ces moments d'égarement les audaces délicieuses de la jeunesse.

Severo ajouta que la canne à sucre l'avait tellement envoûté qu'elle lui avait appris la sagesse, les rythmes lents de la nature, et les plantations étaient devenues pour lui plus précieuses que tout l'or du monde.

His book For Whom the Bell Tolls was an instant success in the summer of 1940, and afforded him the means to live in style at his villa outside of Havana with his new wife Mary Welsh, whom he married in 1946. It was during this period that he started getting headaches and gaining weight, frequently becoming depressed. Being able to shake off his problems, he wrote a series of books on the Land, Air and Sea, and later wrote The Old Man and the Sea for which he won the Pulitzer Prize in May 1954. Hemingway on a trip to Africa where he barely survived two successive airplane crashes. Returning to Cuba, Ernest worked reshaping the recovered work and wrote his memoir, A Moveable Feast. He also finished True at First Light and The Garden of Eden. Being security conscious, he stored his works in a safe deposit box at a bank in Havana. His home Finca Vigía had become a hub for friends and even visiting tourists. It was reliably disclosed to me that he frequently enjoyed swinger’s parties and orgies at his Cuban home. In Spain after divorcing Frank Sinatra Hemingway introduced Ava Gardner to many of the bullfighters he knew and in a free for all, she seduced many of hotter ones. After Ava Gardner’s affair with the famous Spanish bullfighter Luis Miguel Dominguín crashed, she came to Cuba and stayed at Finca Vigía, where she had what was termed to be a poignant relationship with Ernest. Ava Gardner swam nude in the pool, located down the slope from the Hemingway house, after which he told his staff that the water was not to be emptied. An intimate friendship grew between Hemingway’s forth and second wife, Mary and Pauline. Pauline often came to Finca Vigia, in the early 1950s, and likewise Mary made the crossing of the Florida Straits, back to Key West several times. The ex-wife and the current wife enjoyed gossiping about their prior husbands and lovers and had choice words regarding Ernest. In 1959, Hemingway was in Cuba during the revolution, and was delighted that Batista, who owned the nearby property, that later became the location of the dismal Pan Americana Housing Development, was overthrown. He shared the love of fishing with Fidel Castro and remained on good terms with him. Reading the tea leaves, he decided to leave Cuba after hearing that Fidel wanted to nationalize the properties owned by Americans and other foreign nationals. In the summer of 1960, while working on a manuscript for Life magazine, Hemingway developed dementia becoming disorganized and confused. His eyesight had been failing and he became despondent and depressed. On July 25, 1960, he and his wife Mary left Cuba for the last time. He never retrieved his books or the manuscripts that he left in the bank vault. Following the Bay of Pigs Invasion, the Cuban government took ownership of his home and the works he left behind, including an estimated 5,000 books from his personal library. After years of neglect, his home, which was designed by the Spanish architect Miguel Pascual y Baguer in 1886, has now been largely restored as the Hemingway Museum. The museum, overlooking San Francisco de Paula, as well as the Straits of Florida in the distance, houses much of his work as well as his boat housed near his pool.

No creo en la disciplina. La mayoría de personas disciplinadas que conozco son perezosos que con fuerza de voluntad logran controlar su natural tendencia a la molicie.

¿De dónde y cuándo surgió esa idea de que las cosas y las personas tienen que andar a toda hora de dos en dos por el mundo?, me volví a preguntar. ¿Quién nos implantó esa obsesión por el “par” que nos enreda la vida, nos altera los nervios y envía señales contradictorias desde el cerebro al cuerpo?

L’innovateur doit maintenir en son esprit une tension considérable. Celle qui lui permet d’être concentré sur ce qu’il cherche, comme s’il allait disparaître le lendemain, et simultanément ouvert sur ce qu’il ne cherche pas, comme s’il avait l’éternité à sa disposition. Puis l’accroître, cette tension, jour après jour, jusqu’à ce qu’elle mette en visibilité l’observation clef. Celle-ci se présente sous la forme d’un détail. Ce détail n’est pas de ceux qui persuadent. Il est comme une lueur qui ne montre pas mais qui avertit puis s’éteint. Et c’est peut-être, effectivement, à cet instant, un phénomène électrique qui se produit.

Non era neppure l’acquerugiola a infastidirlo, ma l’idea di dover aprire l’ombrello. Era così elegante, così affusolato, piegato e ben riposto nella fodera! Un ombrello chiuso è tanto elegante quanto è brutto un ombrello aperto. «Questa storia di doversi servire delle cose, di doverle usare, è davvero una disgrazia», pensò Augusto. «L’uso guasta la bellezza, la distrugge perfino. La più nobile funzione degli oggetti è quella di lasciarsi contemplare. Com’è bella un’arancia prima di pranzo! Sarà diverso in paradiso, quando ogni nostra occupazione si ridurrà, o meglio si estenderà, alla pura contemplazione di Dio e di ogni cosa in Lui. Quaggiù, in questa misera vita, non ci preoccupiamo che di servirci di Dio: pretendiamo di aprirlo, come un ombrello, perché ci protegga da tutte le disgrazie».

Tutto quello che succede a me, e a quelli che mi stanno intorno, è realtà o finzione? Non sarà forse un sogno di Dio o di chissà chi, che svanirà nel nulla quando Lui si sveglierà? E non sarà per questo che Gli dedichiamo cantici e preghiere, per continuare a farlo dormire, per conciliargli il sonno? E se tutte le liturgie, di tutte le religioni, non fossero che un modo di cullare Dio mentre dorme, perché non possa mai svegliarsi e smettere di sognarci?

Llega la noche y me siento delante de la pantalla del ordenador. En un documento de Word, en blanco, van apareciendo historias. Historias que me hablan de personas como tú y como yo. Historias que aparecen de entre la sombra que irrumpe tras el sol. Y dentro de cada una de ellas, como un destello, la pincelada de alguna vida. Doce historias y doce destellos que necesitan que tú los interpretes.

All’eccesso? O sei rigoroso o non lo sei. E a me piace il rigore. Luis Miguel Marco, Dominical, 2 ottobre 2011

Mensonge. Le prêtre avait raison. C’était dommage de voir tant d’autorité, de vocation, d’habileté innée, au seul service d’animaux. On n’avait pas idée ! Le bélier le plus têtu, le plus bête, le plus mauvais, entre les mains de Gabriel changeait de nature. Il ne lui manquait plus que la parole. – Qu’est-ce que tu fais aux bêtes, petit ! On dirait que tu les ensorcelles ! – Rien. Je les mène au pré, comme tout le monde. Il souriait. Et continuer d’éduquer les agneaux avec des mots et des gestes que personne ne savait dire et faire.