Marty Quotes

The first duty of a man is to think for himself

Day and night I always dream with open eyes.

The pen is mightier than the sword... an considerably easier to write with. - Marty Feldman

Spike (to Giles) : Oh, poor Watcher. Did your life pass before your eyes — 'Cuppa tea, cuppa tea... almost got shagged... cuppa tea'?

A child who does not think about what happens around him and is content with living without wondering whether he lives honestly is like a man who lives from a scoundrel's work and is on the road to being a scoundrel.

Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell leaving is not enough; you must stay gone. train your heart like a dog. change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. you lucky, lucky girl. you have an apartment just your size. a bathtub full of tea. a heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. don’t wish away your cracked past, your crooked toes, your problems are papier mache puppets you made or bought because the vendor at the market was so compelling you just had to have them. you had to have him. and you did. and now you pull down the bridge between your houses, you make him call before he visits, you take a lover for granted, you take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic. make the first bottle you consume in this place a relic. place it on whatever altar you fashion with a knife and five cranberries. don’t lose too much weight. stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge. and you are not stupid. you loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. heart like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas. heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street.

Todo es hermoso y constante, Todo es música y razón, Y todo, como el diamante, Antes que luz es carbón.

Our power lies in our small daily choices, one after another, to create eternal ripples of a life well lived.

you take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic.

Take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic.

And I know that when you get hurt, your first instinct is to run. But I also realized something else. No one has ever followed you when you did run. But I'm going to follow, and I'm going to keep following until you realize that you can trust me. I'm not going to let you run away from something that could be so great. That is so great. Marty, I love you. - Nate

Let others see their own greatness when looking in your eyes.

Man has to suffer. When he has no real afflictions, he invents some.

Many introverts don't feel as if they know enough about a subject until they know almost everything.

Lineage, personality, and environment may shape you, but they do not define your full potential.

Books console us, calm us, prepare us, enrich us and redeem us.

But love, like the sun that it is, sets afire and melts everything. what greed and privilege to build up over whole centuries the indignation of a pious spirit, with its natural following of oppressed souls, will cast down with a single shove.

Others go to bed with their mistresses; I with my ideas.

A grain of poetry suffices to season a century.

Listen for the call of your destiny, and when it comes, release your plans and follow.

who did I think we were. who did I think I could make you. this is the oldest mistake, to confuse wanting with magic. silence is the undoing of every spell, and we are experts in the unsaid. even now, I forget to put us in past tense. as if the air in this city were the same. as if love is anything like its speaking.

More of that hair-raising energy rolled out of Vlad, until I was rubbing my arms to chase the tingling sensations away. Was this what Marty meant when he told me vampires could measure each others’ strength by feeling their auras? If so, then Vlad’s had Badass: Do Not Engage written all over it.

Children are like wet cement. Whatever falls on them makes an impression. —Haim Ginott

Behind a life of influence you will find a masterful storyteller.

Every human being has within him an ideal man, just as every piece of marble contains in a rough state a statue as beautiful as the one that Praxiteles the Greek made of the god Apollo.

Integrity is a powerful force, keeping you alive to others long after you’ve left their presence.

She was the very embodiment of why a man should never do wrong by a woman. Revenge could be bloody awkward.

So when RBG was asked how she had managed to have such an extraordinary marriage, she often answered by saying that Marty himself was extraordinary, and he saw the same in her.

In this world, there must be a certain degree of honor just as there must be a certain amount of light. When there are many men without honor, there will always be some others who bear in themselves the honor of many men.

Your greatest path of influence is love.

Your value lies not in status or title, but in the roots of your character and depth of your compassion.

We need teams of missionaries, not teams of mercenaries.

Having people in different optimal environments increases the chances of survival of the human race as a whole. It is nature's way to preserve her species.

Marty: Dad's right about you. You got lost on your journey somewhere. Adam: That's what everyone says who never bothered to go on a journey in the first place.

It doesn’t matter how good your engineering team is if they are not given something worthwhile to build.

The truthe wakes up once and never dies.

A noble leader answers not to the trumpet calls of self promotion, but to the hushed whispers of necessity.

Vivi dentro del monstro y conozco sus entranas

Ellie screwed a plaque into the back of one of the chairs: “His Royal Ass Was Here.” Beside it, Marty scratched into the wood: “And it was fiiine.” I

With every choice you create the life you’ll live; with every decision you design it.

High above the noise and fear mongering of critics and cynics softly speaks your true self.

There's nothing wrong with a little fear. Being fearful can save your life-it's saved mine on more than one occasion-but too much fear can stop you from living.

Marti wasn't the type to give up without a fight, especially not if she was very afraid - some people are like that. They lean into the fear.

I have been supportive of my wife since the beginning of time, and she has been supportive of me. It’s not sacrifice; it’s family.” —Marty Ginsburg, 1993

Your greatest responsibility is to live a life that nourishes your highest truth.

Allow the way to your great work to be guided by your service to others.

Los Pueblos tienen los Gobiernos que se merecen.

Each life experience poses this question: how do you want to be changed because of me?

The more you become aware of and respond to the needs of others, the richer your own life becomes.

Mastery is the breeding ground of fresh, creative passion.

As part of humanity, each of us is called to develop and share the unique gifts we are given.

Midnight Omen Deja vu" - Because everyone should experience love in the Caribbean...at least once in a lifetime.

It could be worse... It could be raining

A wise teacher learns in the midst of teaching; a wise student teaches in the midst of learning.

The utmost form of respect is to give sincerely of your presence.

You know, when someone hurts my feelings, somehow it does not comfort me to know that it was deliberate... On the other hand, knowing that someone else thinks they are assholes helps a great deal." "I think that's some kind of rule for the universe.

The second difference between the introvert and the extrovert is how they experience external stimulation. Extroverts like to experience a lot, and introverts like to know a lot about what they experience.

The waitress brought a fresh pot of tea, and Marty refilled his father’s cup and poured a cup for Samantha. Henry in turn filled Marty’s. It was a tradition Henry cherished—never filling your own cup, always filling that of someone else, who would return the favor.

There is no adversity that cannot bear a gift and no gift that cannot bring adversity.

Every person is a living treasure box. Listening holds the key.

Marty, my mother used to say "Never get greedy with God." I think what she meant was "Don't dare ask for more if you already have what you need."

A genius is someone who can tolerate the discomfort of uncertainty while generating as many ideas as possible.

Further, your industry is constantly moving, and we must create products for where the market will be tomorrow, not where it was yesterday.

Yo he visto en la noche oscura llover sobre mi cabeza los rayos de lumbra pura de la divina belleza.

Your truest spiritual path will lead you to yourself for it is devoted to becoming.

Man can never be more perfect than the sun. The sun burns us with the same light that warms us. The sun has spots (stains). The ungrateful only talk about the spots (stains). The grateful talk about the light.

This poem is very long So long, in fact, that your attention span May be stretched to its very limits But that’s okay It’s what’s so special about poetry See, poetry takes time We live in a time Call it our culture or society It doesn’t matter to me cause neither one rhymes A time where most people don’t want to listen Our throats wait like matchsticks waiting to catch fire Waiting until we can speak No patience to listen But this poem is long It’s so long, in fact, that during the time of this poem You could’ve done any number of other wonderful things You could’ve called your father Call your father You could be writing a postcard right now Write a postcard When was the last time you wrote a postcard? You could be outside You’re probably not too far away from a sunrise or a sunset Watch the sun rise Maybe you could’ve written your own poem A better poem You could have played a tune or sung a song You could have met your neighbor And memorized their name Memorize the name of your neighbor You could’ve drawn a picture (Or, at least, colored one in) You could’ve started a book Or finished a prayer You could’ve talked to God Pray When was the last time you prayed? Really prayed? This is a long poem So long, in fact, that you’ve already spent a minute with it When was the last time you hugged a friend for a minute? Or told them that you love them? Tell your friends you love them …no, I mean it, tell them Say, I love you Say, you make life worth living Because that, is what friends do Of all of the wonderful things that you could’ve done During this very, very long poem You could have connected Maybe you are connecting Maybe we’re connecting See, I believe that the only things that really matter In the grand scheme of life are God and people And if people are made in the image of God Then when you spend your time with people It’s never wasted And in this very long poem I’m trying to let a poem do what a poem does: Make things simpler We don’t need poems to make things more complicated We have each other for that We need poems to remind ourselves of the things that really matter To take time A long time To be alive for the sake of someone else for a single moment Or for many moments Cause we need each other To hold the hands of a broken person All you have to do is meet a person Shake their hand Look in their eyes They are you We are all broken together But these shattered pieces of our existence don’t have to be a mess We just have to care enough to hold our tongues sometimes To sit and listen to a very long poem A story of a life The joy of a friend and the grief of friend To hold and be held And be quiet So, pray Write a postcard Call your parents and forgive them and then thank them Turn off the TV Create art as best as you can Share as much as possible, especially money Tell someone about a very long poem you once heard And how afterward it brought you to them

During this very, very long poem You could have connected Maybe you are connecting Maybe we’re connecting See, I believe that the only things that really matter In the grand scheme of life are God and people And if people are made in the image of God Then when you spend your time with people It’s never wasted - A Very Long Poem, by Marty Schoenleber III

When this—my baby, source of all my hopes— Doth hit upon the speed of eighty-eight, In miles per hour, then Marty, verily, Thine eyes shalt witness shit most serious.

Când măsura versurilor albe Este egală Și lacrimile nu-și găsesc sentimente calde În schimbarea punctuală, Când distanța dintre două puncte moarte Pare vie Și diamantele se sparg ca florile de gheață de pe geam Când iarna vine Dragostea e izometrie.

The introvert is pressured daily, almost from the moment of awakening, to respond and conform to the outer world.

Life on earth is hand-to-hand mortal combat . . . between the law of love and the law of hate.

Never tell people how to do things. Tell them what to do, and they will surprise you with their ingenuity.” —General George S. Patton, Jr. General

Hope finds its fulfillment when nurtured through faith and shared with love.

Writing in itself is radical resistance, a triumph - people can try to stop you from speaking your truth, but no one can take your words from you.

She was thin like Kylie, but she had a manic energy like Shane, so it was probably drugs. That’s just the means though, the end result is the same. She was one of us. Her, Shane, Marty, Roger, Kylie, me. People being eaten alive from the inside out.

Vîrsta ne schimbă atît de mult, uneori uiţi că ai fost copil, ai impresia că te-ai născut aşa, bătrîn, şi totuşi sînt unele fleacuri care-ţi rămîn adînc înrădăcinate. Clişee unde adultul dă mîna cu puştiul care trăgea la fit şi tocea peste vară la teorema lui Pitagora. De cînd mă ştiu, prima ninsoare m-a scos din minţi... Îmi venea să urlu de bucurie... Ca şi mirosul ăla special din martie. Un miros de verde, de pămînt...

I won't eat anything that has intelligent life, but I'd gladly eat a network executive or a politician.

Helping others in need is not only a responsibility of life; it is what gives meaning to life.

Freedom flourishes upon the bedrock of ethics and integrity.

The characters tell their story - I am merely the tool used to record it

If nature intended us to talk more than listen, she would have given us two mouths and one ear. —ANONYMOUS

The cave you fear to enter, goes the ancient proverb, holds the treasure you seek.

54. The children of the Spanish lion, said Ruben Dario, a born optimist. The children of Walt Whitman, Jose Marti, and Violeta Parra; torn apart, forgotten, in mass graves, at the bottom of the sea, the Trojan destiny of their mingled bones terrifying the survivors.

Frunzele lor uscate și căzute, fiind ude, nu mi se mai sfărâmau sub picioare. Acestea erau precum visele compromise, sacrificate pentru scopuri mai înalte: deși erau moarte, ele existau în tine și le purtai scheletul hidratat, ce nu putea fi sfărâmat. De-ar fi apărut o nouă primăvară și pentru suflet, ca el să poată fii regenerat, iar pe scheletul viselor să poți insera speranță, ar fi fost minunat! (...)

For introverts who have a high level of internal activity, anything coming from the outside raises their intensity level index quickly. It’s kind of like being tickled—the sensation goes from feeling good and fun to “too much” and uncomfortable in a split second.

Martie came out of the office first, smiling prettily, and Dusty rose to greet her, smiling less prettily, and Dr. Ahriman entered the waiting room behind her, smiling paternally, and maybe Dusty smiled a little more prettily when he saw the psychiatrist, because the man virtually radiated competence and compassion and confidence and all sorts of good stuff.

This is for watching my fights and rooting for me,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “And this is for being brave and accepting my dare.” He pressed a second kiss on the tip of her nose. “And this is for dumping that dickhead Marty.” The next kiss landed on the corner of her mouth, and she parted her lips on a sigh. His heart hammered so loudly, he wondered if she heard it. “And this one? This one is because I want you so bad, it’s making me question my sanity.

I can't believe my eyes.

When you lie things become harder to grasp, but honesty will take you right to the thing you desire.

FRIDA KAHLO TO MARTY MCCONNELL leaving is not enough; you must stay gone. train your heart like a dog. change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. you lucky, lucky girl. you have an apartment just your size. a bathtub full of tea. a heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. don’t wish away your cracked past, your crooked toes, your problems are papier mache puppets you made or bought because the vendor at the market was so compelling you just had to have them. you had to have him. and you did. and now you pull down the bridge between your houses, you make him call before he visits, you take a lover for granted, you take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic. make the first bottle you consume in this place a relic. place it on whatever altar you fashion with a knife and five cranberries. don’t lose too much weight. stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge. and you are not stupid. you loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. heart like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas. heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street.

Software projects can be thought of as having two distinct stages: figuring out what to build (build the right product), and building it (building the product right). The first stage is dominated by product discovery, and the second stage is all about execution.

The great historian of religion Martin Marty once said every religion serves two functions: First, it is a message of personal salvation telling is how to get right with God; and second, it is a lens for interpreting the world. Historically, evangelicals have been good at the first functions- at "saving souls". But they have not been nearly so good at helping people to interpret the world around them- at providing a set of interrelated concepts that function as a lens to give a biblical view of areas like science, politics, economics, or bioethics. As Marty puts it, evangelicals have typically "accentuated personal piety and individual salvation, leaving men to their own devices to interpret the world around them.

„Noaptea aceasta era specială, era ca ultima femeie, care-și lăsa urma de parfum acolo unde începuse amorul – în gând. Scurtă, fugară și, ca orice iubită de împrumut, era carnală. Nu-mi cerea să-i ofer iubire, jurăminte și cuvinte dulci. Știa de ce fel de resurse dispunea, știa ce trebuia să facă și știa în cât timp să dispară până-n zori. Noaptea aceasta purta ceas la mână. Nu voia nimic de la mine și îmi era atât de dragă, pentru că, astfel, îmi aparțineam mie însumi mai mult. Delicat, îmi atinse pielea rece și își lipi buzele fierbinți de vis, cu patosul unei nebunii trecătoare. Mă sărută-n gând, furându-mi respirația și m-am trezit rostind două cuvinte de somnambul, nu „te iubesc!”, ci... „noapte bună!“ Știam amândoi că se va sfârși. Ea nu era fidelă, în caz contrar nu și-ar împărți trupul între duminică și luni. O îmbrăţişam cu drag, căci nu o voi revedea nicicând. I-am păstrat, în gând, urma de ruj și parfumul.

leaving is not enough; you must stay gone. train your heart like a dog. change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. you lucky, lucky girl. you have an apartment just your size. a bathtub full of tea. a heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. don’t wish away your cracked past, your crooked toes, your problems are papier mache puppets you made or bought because the vendor at the market was so compelling you just had to have them. you had to have him. and you did. and now you pull down the bridge between your houses, you make him call before he visits, you take a lover for granted, you take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic. make the first bottle you consume in this place a relic. place it on whatever altar you fashion with a knife and five cranberries. don’t lose too much weight. stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge. and you are not stupid. you loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. heart like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas. heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street.

Am ales o carte bună să citesc. Coperta avea culoarea pielii și era roasă, la colțuri, de gura timpului nemilos. Abia vedeam să citesc ce scria pe ea – am aflat, până la urmă, de pe cotor. Am deschis-o la întâmplare, pătimaș, ca un amant dornic să-și miroasă iubita, înainte de a o cunoaște. După ce i-am simțit parfumul, i-am citit prefața. Fiecare carte avea un miros unic, pe care nu-l regăseai nicăieri, nici măcar la un exemplar identic, provenit de la aceeași tipografie. Fiecare carte păstra amprentele dorințelor cuiva de a o citi, a regretelor, a încercărilor eșuate, dar, mai ales, amprentele impresiilor de la final. Acestea te puteau urmări o viață. O carte o puteai citi de mai multe ori și o puteai vedea de fiecare dată altfel. Era exact același lucru ca momentul în care cunoșteai o femeie: într-un fel o înțelegi la douăzeci de ani și în alt fel o înțelegi la treizeci, patruzeci, cincizeci de ani. La douăzeci de ani e posibil să nu ai răbdare s-o termini și, înainte de a o termina, începi alta. La treizeci de ani o citești în paralel cu alta, încercând să te descoperi pe tine. La patruzeci de ani, dacă ea ți-a lăsat o impresie bună, îi dai o șansă până la final. La cincizeci de ani, știi cine ești și ce îți place – o recitești nostalgic, pe nerăsuflate. Dar ce se întâmplă cu acea carte veche, deschisă pentru prima dată? Din ea se varsă, prin particulele de praf, lacrimi uscate. Acea carte, precum iubita fidelă, are ochi doar pentru tine, iar când ți se deschide – citește-o tandru și cu răbdare, căci te-a așteptat mult.

– Cum se simte o inimă de piatră? – O inimă de piatră face parte din natură, are rolul ei! Fără să bată, trăiește veșnic. – Da, dar este o inimă rece. – Poate fi încălzită de soare. – Da, dar ea nu încălzește. – Încălzește inima mea, pentru că o admir. – De ce o admiri, Ana? – Pentru că este sinceră și grea. Nu poate fi sfărâmată de nimic. – O inimă de piatră nu poate fi distrusă, dar nici nu poate iubi. – De ce trebuie să fie iubirea reciprocă? Nu pot iubi această piatră, fără a mă simți iubită de ea, la rândul meu?" - dialog din romanul meu "Din octombrie până în martie"; acesta este încadrat la genul ROMANCE și vine astăzi, de ziua îndrăgostiților, cu un cadou. Urmărește site-ul editurii "Berg" și comandă.

Pettiness often leads both to error and to the digging of a trap for oneself. Wondering (which I am sure he didn't) 'if by the 1990s [Hitchens] was morphing into someone I didn’t quite recognize”, Blumenthal recalls with horror the night that I 'gave' a farewell party for Martin Walker of the Guardian, and then didn't attend it because I wanted to be on television instead. This is easy: Martin had asked to use the fine lobby of my building for a farewell bash, and I'd set it up. People have quite often asked me to do that. My wife did the honors after Nightline told me that I’d have to come to New York if I wanted to abuse Mother Teresa and Princess Diana on the same show. Of all the people I know, Martin Walker and Sidney Blumenthal would have been the top two in recognizing that journalism and argument come first, and that there can be no hard feelings about it. How do I know this? Well, I have known Martin since Oxford. (He produced a book on Clinton, published in America as 'The President We Deserve'. He reprinted it in London, under the title, 'The President They Deserve'. I doffed my hat to that.) While Sidney—I can barely believe I am telling you this—once also solicited an invitation to hold his book party at my home. A few days later he called me back, to tell me that Martin Peretz, owner of the New Republic, had insisted on giving the party instead. I said, fine, no bones broken; no caterers ordered as yet. 'I don't think you quite get it,' he went on, after an honorable pause. 'That means you can't come to the party at all.' I knew that about my old foe Peretz: I didn't then know I knew it about Blumenthal. I also thought that it was just within the limit of the rules. I ask you to believe that I had buried this memory until this book came out, but also to believe that I won't be slandered and won't refrain—if motives or conduct are in question—from speculating about them in my turn.

Because she knew that something happened to you when your mother didn’t hold you close, or tell you all the time that you were the best thing ever, or even notice when you were home: a little part of you sealed over. You didn’t need her. You didn’t need anyone. And, without even knowing you were doing it, you waited. You waited for anyone who got close to you to see something they didn’t like in you, something they hadn’t seen initially, and to grow cold and disappear, like so much sea mist, too. Because there had to be something wrong, didn’t there, if even your own mother didn’t really love you? It was why she hadn’t been devastated when Marty left. Why would she be? He couldn’t hurt her. The only thing Jess really cared about was those two children, and letting them know they were okay by her. Because even if the whole world was throwing rocks at you, if you still had your mother or father at your back, you’d be okay. Some deep-rooted part of you would know you were loved. That you deserved to be loved. Jess hadn’t done much to be proud of in her life, but the thing she was most proud of was that Tanzie knew it. Strange little bean that she was, Jess knew she knew it. She was still working on Nicky.

Her mental list of items she’d need from her apartment was growing. There were things a girl just couldn’t live without, so Keegan would have to get them when he retrieved Muffin. “I need another purse. Can you get me my Prada knockoff? It’s in my closet on the shelf. Pink. It’s pink. I got it from a vendor in Manhattan. Jeez he was a tough negotiator, but it was worth the haggling. It’s soooo cute.” Keegan sighed, raspy and long. “Okay.” “Oh! And my nail polish. I have two new bottles in the bathroom under the sink in one of those cute organizer baskets, you know? Like the ones you get at Bed Bath and Beyond? God, I love those. Anyway, I need Retro Red and Winsome Wisteria.” Another sigh followed, and then a nod of consent. “My moisturizer. I never go anywhere, not even overnight, without my moisturizer. Not that I ever really go anywhere, but anyway I need it, or my skin will dehydrate and it could just be ugly. Top left side of my medicine cabinet.” “Er, okay.” “My shoes. I can’t be without shoes. Let’s see. I need my tennis shoes and my white sandals, because I don’t think there’s much hope for these, wouldn’t you say?” Marty looked up at him and saw impatience written all over his face. “And my laptop. I can’t check on my clients without my laptop, and they need me. Plus, there’s that no-good bitch Linda Fisher. I have to watch that she’s not stealing my accounts. Do you have all of that?” He gave her that stern look again. The one that made her insides skedaddle around even if it was meant in reproach. “I’m going too far, huh?” His smile was crooked. “Just a smidge.