Miyagi Quotes

Stop calling me that!' Haley hissed softly. 'For the hundredth time, i am not the Daniel-Son to your Mr. Miyagi.

I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them. I will love you as the pesto loves the fettuccini and ats the horseradish loves the miyagi, and the pepperoni loves the pizza. I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you as the doctor loves his sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer. I will love you as the beard loves the chin, and the crumbs love the beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the precious document loves the dampness of the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged document, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written. I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp... I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and all the secrets have gone gasping into the world. I will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled. I will love you until every fire is extinguished and rebuilt from the handsomest and most susceptible of woods. I will love you until the bird hates a nest and the worm hates an apple. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close... I will love you until your face is fogged by distant memory. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, I will love you if you don't marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else--and i will love you if you never marry at all, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all. That is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.

What would my little grasshopper like?” … She glared over her shoulder at him. “I’m not going to call you Mr Miyagi you know.” “Yes you will, but that’s not important at the moment.

I will love you with no regard to the actions of our enemies or the jealousies of actors. I will love you with no regard to the outrage of certain parents or the boredom of certain friends. I will love you no matter what is served in the world’s cafeterias or what game is played at each and every recess. I will love you no matter how many fire drills we are all forced to endure, and no matter what is drawn upon the blackboard in blurry, boring chalk. I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to reduce fractions, and no matter how difficult it is to memorize the periodic table. I will love you no matter what your locker combination was, or how you decided to spend your time during study hall. I will love you no matter how your soccer team performed in the tournament or how many stains I received on my cheerleading uniform. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you if you cut your hair and I will love you if you cut the hair of others. I will love you if you abandon your baticeering, and I will love you if you if you retire from the theater to take up some other, less dangerous occupation. I will love you if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of hanging it up and I will love you if you betray your father. I will love you even if you announce that the poetry of Edgar Guest is the best in the world and even if you announce that the work of Zilpha Keatley Snyder is unbearably tedious. I will love you if you abandon the theremin and take up the harmonica and I will love you if you donate your marmosets to the zoo and your tree frogs to M. I will love you as a starfish loves a coral reef and as a kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them. I will love you as the pesto loves the fettuccini and as the horseradish loves the miyagi, as the tempura loves the ikura and the pepperoni loves the pizza. I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you as the doctor loves his sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer. I will love you as the beard loves the chin, and the crumbs love the beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the precious document loves the dampness in the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged print of the document, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written. I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. i will love you as a child loves to overhear the conversations of its parents, and the parents love the sound of their own arguing voices, and as the pen loves to write down the words these voices utter in a notebook for safekeeping. I will love you as a shingle loves falling off a house on a windy day and striking a grumpy person across the chin, and as an oven loves malfunctioning in the middle of roasting a turkey. I will love you as an airplane loves to fall from a clear blue sky and as an escalator loves to entangle expensive scarves in its mechanisms. I will love you as a wet paper towel loves to be crumpled into a ball and thrown at a bathroom ceiling and as an eraser loves to leave dust in the hairdos of people who talk too much. I will love you as a cufflink loves to drop from its shirt and explore the party for itself and as a pair of white gloves loves to slip delicately into the punchbowl. I will love you as the taxi loves the muddy splash of a puddle and as a library loves the patient tick of a clock.

He was staring hard, not at his wife and me but at his daughter watching us. In his cold pupil, in the firm twist of his lips, was reflected Madame Miyagi's orgasm reflected in her daughter's gaze.

What if they’re using videogames to train us to fight without us even knowing it? Like Mr. Miyagi in The Karate Kid, when he made Daniel-san paint his house, sand his deck, and wax all of his cars—he was training him and he didn’t even realize it! Wax on, wax off—but on a global scale!

Enough of this Miyagi crap. Point is, fight for what you want, and while you’re doing that I’d like an egg mayo sandwich without that fucking cress shit on it this time.

A lumpy mass of American stereotypes was metastasizing inside me. It made me cringe when I heard Mr. Miyagi say "Wax on, wax off, Daniel San." It made me pretend to laugh when I saw Long Duk Dong in Sixteen Candles. It made me sign up for tae kwon do that year because that was what Asians did. It would be decades before I diagnosed the lump of alienation, dual consciousness, and self-hatred, but it was already growing quickly, bilious and caustic. I only saw myself as the piece that did not fit in the puzzle.

I will love you with no regard to the actions of our enemies or the jealousies of actors. I will love you with no regard to the outrage of certain parents or the boredom of certain friends. I will love you no matter what is served in the world’s cafeterias or what game is played at each and every recess. I will love you no matter how many fire drills we are all forced to endure, and no matter what is drawn upon the blackboard in a blurring, boring chalk. I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to reduce fractions, and no matter how difficult it is to memorize the periodic table. I will love you no matter what your locker combination was, or how you decided to spend your time during study hall. I will love you no matter how your soccer team performed in the tournament or how many stains I received on my cheerleading uniform. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you if you cut your hair and I will love you if you cut the hair of others. I will love you if you abandon your baticeering, and I will love you if you retire from the theater to take up some other, less dangerous occupation. I will love you if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of hanging it up and I will love you if you betray your father. I will love you even if you announce that the poetry of Edgar Guest is the best in the world and even if you announce that the work of Zilpha Keatley Snyder is unbearably tedious. I will love you if you abandon the theremin and take up the harmonica and I will love you if you donate your marmosets to the zoo and your tree frogs to M. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them. I will love you as the pesto loves the fetuccini and as the horseradish loves the miyagi, as the tempura loves the ikura and the pepperoni loves the pizza. I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you as the doctor loves his sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer. I will love you as the beard loves the chin, and the crumbs love the beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the precious document loves the dampness in the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged print of the document, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written. I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. I will love you as a child loves to overhear the conversations of its parents, and the parents love the sound of their own arguing voices, and as the pen loves to write down the words these voices utter in a notebook for safekeeping. I will love you as a shingle loves falling off a house on a windy day and striking a grumpy person across the chin, and as an oven loves malfunctioning in the middle of roasting a turkey. I will love you as an airplane loves to fall from a clear blue sky and as an escalator loves to entangle expensive scarves in its mechanisms. I will love you as a wet paper towel loves to be crumpled into a ball and thrown at a bathroom ceiling and an eraser loves to leave dust in the hairdos of the people who talk too much. I will love you as a taxi loves the muddy splash of a puddle and as a library loves the patient tick of a clock. I will love you as a thief loves a gallery and as a crow loves a murder, as a cloud loves bats and as a range loves braes. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong.

Karate begins and ends with courtesy.' This means respect others, refrain from violent behavior, practice fairness in the spirit of good sportsmanship.

In that movie, Mr Miyagi has Daniel doing all these mundane tasks like painting the fence and waxing the car, then later Daniel does the same moves and finds out it's kung fu. You have me doing all of these fighting moves... If I find out later that what you're actually doing is teaching me how to paint fences and wax cars, I'm not paying you, you understand? - Scapegrace

I lowered my hands to try to save from disorder the arrangement of the tleaves and flowers; meanwhile, she was also dealing with the branches, leaning forward; and so it happened that at the very moment when one of my hands slipped in confusion between Madame Miyagi's kimono and her bare skin and found itself clasping a soft and warm breast, elongated in form, one of the lady's hands, from among the branches keiyaki [translator's note: in Europe called Caucasian elm], had reached my member and was holding it in a firm, frank grasp, drawing it from my garments as if she were performing the operation of stripping away leaves.

So you’ve come to the master, young grasshopper," Lincoln mused. I threw up a middle finger before realizing I wasn’t on Facetime and he couldn’t see me. “Just so you know, I told Walker you were cool. I’m going to have to go back and tell him otherwise now…just because you tried to Mr. Miyagi me.” “Do you want my help or not?” “Yes, I need your help! That’s why I fucking called!” “Then call me Mr. Miyagi.” I stared at my phone in disbelief. “Is this real life? Am I being punked?” “Final offer.” “Uggggh. Fine. Can you help me, Mr. Miyagi?” “I thought you would never ask,” Lincoln said calmly, only laughing after I growled at him.

Both C.K. and Bieber are extremely gifted performers. Both climbed to the top of their industry, and in fact, both ultimately used the Internet to get big. But somehow Bieber “made it” in one-fifteenth of the time. How did he climb so much faster than the guy Rolling Stone calls the funniest man in America—and what does this have to do with Jimmy Fallon? The answer begins with a story from Homer’s Odyssey. When the Greek adventurer Odysseus embarked for war with Troy, he entrusted his son, Telemachus, to the care of a wise old friend named Mentor. Mentor raised and coached Telemachus in his father’s absence. But it was really the goddess Athena disguised as Mentor who counseled the young man through various important situations. Through Athena’s training and wisdom, Telemachus soon became a great hero. “Mentor” helped Telemachus shorten his ladder of success. The simple answer to the Bieber question is that the young singer shot to the top of pop with the help of two music industry mentors. And not just any run-of-the-mill coach, but R& B giant Usher Raymond and rising-star manager Scooter Braun. They reached from the top of the ladder where they were and pulled Bieber up, where his talent could be recognized by a wide audience. They helped him polish his performing skills, and in four years Bieber had sold 15 million records and been named by Forbes as the third most powerful celebrity in the world. Without Raymond’s and Braun’s mentorship, Biebs would probably still be playing acoustic guitar back home in Canada. He’d be hustling on his own just like Louis C.K., begging for attention amid a throng of hopeful entertainers. Mentorship is the secret of many of the highest-profile achievers throughout history. Socrates mentored young Plato, who in turn mentored Aristotle. Aristotle mentored a boy named Alexander, who went on to conquer the known world as Alexander the Great. From The Karate Kid to Star Wars to The Matrix, adventure stories often adhere to a template in which a protagonist forsakes humble beginnings and embarks on a great quest. Before the quest heats up, however, he or she receives training from a master: Obi Wan Kenobi. Mr. Miyagi. Mickey Goldmill. Haymitch. Morpheus. Quickly, the hero is ready to face overwhelming challenges. Much more quickly than if he’d gone to light-saber school. The mentor story is so common because it seems to work—especially when the mentor is not just a teacher, but someone who’s traveled the road herself. “A master can help you accelerate things,” explains Jack Canfield, author of the Chicken Soup for the Soul series and career coach behind the bestseller The Success Principles. He says that, like C.K., we can spend thousands of hours practicing until we master a skill, or we can convince a world-class practitioner to guide our practice and cut the time to mastery significantly.

Every Night I Die At Miyagis" would you like to be mine okay then, i'll be yours for just one day haha, just joking tell me when to start oh-oh, you're just playing hard to get yeah i know i've been told off in the world... off in the world the girls adjust i'm lost for words when you're sitting alone don't you know the boys will cry but not I i just want to see the smile on your face yes i see through all the trends let's be friends don't say no off in the world... off in the world the girls adjust i'm lost for words "i give dirty pussy to everyone! i crazy like gideon! ha ha i chomp on punani, bloody vagina me feast on placenta, placent-" give me what you are but oh no i'm not usually this way, i'm okay it just happens every time that i try did they make a life tonight i won't lie but i'm sold off in the world... off in the world the girls adjust i'm lost for words

For me, the journal worked best....Silence is a great way to hear our inner wisdom. I didn't realize when I started my grand journal-writing experiment that I had all the answers inside me. Sometimes my inner wisdom took on the form of Mr Miyagi, Percy Kelly, or Ernest Hemingway. I would ask a question of them in my journal and let the pen roll. I didn't care if I was making it up or channeling. Either way, it was away to access my inner wisdom, and it was always soothing and insightful. *Write to learn what you know.* And What did I need to know? First and most obviously was that I had all the inner resources I needed to effectively deal with my situations. And secondly, I needed to realize that I was an artist. Not the one who paints letters about Paris. The artist who is the head honcho creative director of her own life. We must know how to design our lives. we are all artist, and each day is a canvas. Writing in my journal each day was how I redesigned my life. I became conscious of just how much I disliked my day-t-day existence. I would get up, react, and repeat. I had created a fast, busy, messy life. There was no one else to blame.

enseña en las unidades de fuerzas especiales.(6) Personalmente me siento afortunado el haber tenido siempre instructores que podríamos definir lo mejor de lo mejor en el mundo. En Guatemala por ya casi 25 años he entrenado Karate Goju-Ryu y Kobudo, artes marciales del clásico karate originario de Okinawa con el que yo considero el mejor maestro en todo el planeta, Sensei Víctor Rodolfo Martinez Ferman, guatemalteco de origen judío, emigró a los Estados Unidos donde se convirtió en discípulo de Toshio Tamano, heredero de la escuela de Sensei Miyagi, y del fundador de la escuela Shorei-Kan, Seikichi Toguchi. Sensei Martinez con una mezcla de fuerza, carácter férreo, una gran cortesía y una manera de enseñar que pocos maestros logran tener en su vida, es definitivamente el representante y heredero del espíritu Bushido de los antiguos samurai. El Goju-Ryu fue declarado como el segundo arte marcial más efectivo y letal en todo el mundo y que mejor que haberlo aprendido de un Maestro-Discípulo

Personalmente me siento afortunado el haber tenido siempre instructores que podríamos defnir lo mejor de lo mejor en el mundo. En Guatemala por ya casi 25 años he entrenado Karate Goju-Ryu y Kobudo, artes marciales del clásico karate originario de Okinawa con el que yo considero el mejor maestro en todo el planeta, Sensei Víctor Rodolfo Martinez Ferman, guatemalteco de origen judío, emigró a los Estados Unidos donde se convirtió en discípulo de Toshio Tamano, heredero de la escuela de Sensei Miyagi, y del fundador de la escuela Shorei-Kan, Seikichi Toguchi. Sensei Martinez con una mezcla de fuerza, carácter férreo, una gran cortesía y una manera de enseñar que pocos maestros logran tener en su vida, es defnitivamente el representante y heredero del espíritu Bushido de los antiguos samurai. El Goju-Ryu fue declarado como el segundo arte marcial más efectivo y letal en todo el mundo y que mejor que haberlo aprendido de un Maestro-Discípulo

Furi walked across Syn’s living room carpet for what felt like the millionth time while he waited for him to come back. How dare he order me to leave? Like I’m a damn kid. Furi decided right then and there that he was going to have a talk with Syn. Furi wouldn’t be his kept man or his bitch. Furi stopped mid-stride when he heard the door open and close behind Syn. All the anger and hostility he’d felt while alone in Syn’s place just disappeared when the ruggedly handsome man yanked his dark coat off and threw it on the couch, approaching Furi with a hungry look. “Did he hurt you?” Syn’s voice was gravelly. He put both hands on either side of Furi’s neck and lifted it gently, eyeing the slight redness there. “I’m fine. Despite the fact you keep having to rescue me, I’m not a weakling. I can defend myself,” Furi said with venom, pulling away from Syn’s examination. “Right. That Mr. Miyagi crash course at the Y.” Syn stifled a laugh, but Furi thought it was anything but funny and he let Syn know it. “Don’t fucking mock me.” Furi stormed past him down the hall. Syn’s footsteps sounded behind him. He’d just caught up with him when he opened the bathroom door. “Hey, hey, hey,” Syn said in a whisper. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t mocking you, I was teasing you.” Furi frowned and Syn shook his head. “Let me clarify. Joking after an intensely stressful situation helps to calm me. I need to come down from the high of an adrenaline rush, that’s all that was.

You have to open up your heart to your soul and accept your body and your mind. The next phase is when you begin to accept every other part that is inherent to your very being.

Look at the way the rice is shining... it looks like jewels. Each grain of rice retains its original shape... and they're all the same size too. It's stickiness and scent... it's been washed to perfection. Washing the rice just to rinse off the dirt and excess bran without wasting the flavor and scent of the rice is extremely difficult. I made my fortune before the war at the rice market... I still find time to do research on rice. I'm sure I can figure out what this rice is and where it comes from... It's Sasanishiki... but it's not from Miyagi. It's Shonai rice, from Amarume-Yamagata prefecture! Well?! " "That is correct!" "Wow... he guessed the type of rice and where it came from!" "I don't believe it!" "This rice has been dried under sunlight, not by machine--- and you milled it right here, just before washing it, didn't you?" You cook it over an old-fashioned furnace using firewood for fuel... and just before steaming it, you throw a handful of straw into the fire if you want to cook rice like this." "Yes." "Then this miso soup too... Ah... it's real miso made from domestic soy and natural salt. The dashi is made from katsuobushi, an obushi from Makurazaki. And he used the good part in the center. And the tofu is made with domestic soybeans and real brine. Aah... this is so good that it's making me cry!

Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.” ~ Gautama Buddha

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.