Na Sayings And Quotes

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He sighed, and his eyes closed. "You were right," he murmured, his voice nearly lost in the darkness. "I couldn't do it alone. I should have listened to you back in Tir Na Nog." "Yes, you should have," I whispered. "Remember that, so that next time you can just agree with whatever I say and we'll be fine.
Julie Kagawa (The Iron Daughter (The Iron Fey, #2))
Farsi Couplet: Mun tu shudam tu mun shudi,mun tun shudam tu jaan shudi Taakas na guyad baad azeen, mun deegaram tu deegari English Translation: I have become you, and you me, I am the body, you soul; So that no one can say hereafter, That you are someone, and me someone else.
Amir Khusrau (The Writings of Amir Khusrau: 700 Years After the Prophet: A 13th-14th Century Legend of Indian-Sub-Continent)
My eyes burn with tears, and I'm so tired. So tired of holding back everything I feel and want to say. So tired of being someone I'm not and making mistakes that I didn't have any fun making.
Penelope Douglas (Punk 57)
Oh my. He's English. "Er. Does Mer live here?" Seriously, I don't know any American girl who can resist an English accent. The boy clears his throat. "Meredith Chevalier? Tall girl? Big, curly hair?" Then he looks at me like I'm crazy or half deaf, like my Nana Oliphant. Nanna just smiles and shakes her head whenever I ask, "What kind of salad dressing would you like?" or "Where did you put Granddad's false teeth?" "I'm sorry." He takes the smallest step away from me. "You were going to bed." "Yes! Meredith lives here. I've just spent two hours with her." I announce this proudly like my little brother, Seany, whenever he finds something disgusting in the yard. "I'm Anna! I'm new here!" Oh, [Gosh]. What. Is with. The scary enthusiasm? My cheeks catch fire, and it's all so humiliating. The beautiful boy gives an amused grin. His teeth are lovely - straight on top and crooked on the bottom, with a touch of overbite. I'm a sucker for smiles like this, due to my own lack of orthodontia. I have a gap between my front teeth the size of a raisin. "Étienne," he says. "I live one floor up." "I live here." I point dumbly at my room while my mind whirs: French name, English accent, American school. Anna confused. He raps twice on Meredith's door. "Well. I'll see you around then, Anna." Eh-t-yen says my name like this: Ah-na.
Stephanie Perkins (Anna and the French Kiss (Anna and the French Kiss, #1))
There's an old folk saying that goes: whenever you delete a sentence from your NaNoWriMo novel, a NaNoWriMo angel loses its wings and plummets, screaming, to the ground. Where it will likely require medical attention.
Chris Baty
Aqalmandi Ka Takaza Tou Yehi Hai Kay Insan Khuda Kay Tasawar Ko Sha'ori Tor Par Thek Tarah Say Samajh Lay. Aisa Na Hoa Tou Koi Aur Sha'ay Khuda Ban Kar Apni Pooja Karwaney Lagay Gi".
Ashfaq Ahmed
My queen,” he breathed, one hand reaching up to frame my cheek, making my stomach jump and twirl. “I belong to you. No matter what Mab says, no matter how long I’ve been in Tir Na Nog, my life is yours. Nothing will ever make me leave your side.
Julie Kagawa (Iron's Prophecy (The Iron Fey, #4.5))
Say it again, Na’Chi.” “I love you, Light Blade,
Kylie Griffin (Vengeance Born (The Light Blade, #1))
Haleine contre haleine, échauffe-moi la vie, Mille et mille baisers donne-moi je te prie, Amour veut tout sans nombre, amour n’a point de loi Translated: Breath against breath warms my life. A thousand kisses give me I pray thee. Love says it all without number, love knows no law.
Pierre de Ronsard
Did you say you were going into Tir Na Nog? Lemme guess - you met with our lovely queen, she threatened to turn you into lemurs or something ridiculous and then she told you to go complete some ludicrously impossible task for her. Am I right?” When we nodded, he shook his head. “I thought so. Well, you know what this means, don’t you?” “Yes.” Keirran’s eyes were hard as he faced Puck, his expression one of grim determination. “We have to find a way into Winter.
Julie Kagawa (The Iron Traitor (The Iron Fey: Call of the Forgotten, #2))
as jolaha ka maram na jana, jinh jag ani pasarinhh tana; dharti akas dou gad khandaya, chand surya dou nari banaya; sahastra tar le purani puri, ajahu bine kathin hai duri; kahai kabir karm se jori, sut kusut bine bhal kori; No one could understand the secret of this weaver who, coming into existence, spread the warp as the world; He fixed the earth and the sky as the pillars, and he used the sun and the moon as two shuttles; He took thousands of stars and perfected the cloth; but even today he weaves, and the end is difficult to fathom. Kabir says that the weaver, getting good or bad yarn and connecting karmas with it, weaves beautifully.
Kabir (The Bijak of Kabir)
Naogopa simba na meno yake siogopi mtu kwa maneno yake (I fear a lion with his strong teeth but not a man with his words)
Swahili saying
He pulled back to roughly say, “Ty dazhe na vkus sladkaya.
Danielle Lori (The Darkest Temptation (Made, #3))
Who says you’ll get hurt again?” I pouted. “Have you met you?” “Right.
Kate Evangelista (Relish (Vicious Feast, #2))
He were found drowned. He were coming home very hopeless o' aught on earth. He thought God could na be harder than men; mappen not so hard; mappen as tender as a mother; mappen tenderer. I'm not saying he did right, and I'm not saying he didn't wrong. All I say is, may neither me nor mine ever have his sore heart, or we may do like things.
Elizabeth Gaskell (North and South)
He turns back to me. "So did you enjoy the book?' "I did." Discomfort lingers between us. "Did you?" St. Clair considers it for a moment. "I like the author's name the best," he finally says, "Ba-nah-na.
Stephanie Perkins (Anna and the French Kiss (Anna and the French Kiss, #1))
A: Tsk! Ano ba naman 'tong araw na 'to? Ang ineeeht! Hwooh! B: Natural! Ano gusto mo? Malamig s'ya? E 'di dedbol na tayo n'un! Hwaha! A: Tangek! All I'm saying is... tsk! 'Wag na tayo dito sa labas... Kanina pa tayo nasa araw eh! D'un na -- B: Huwow! And all this time akala ko nasa earth tayo!! Hwow! Teka lang! Huwow!
Manix Abrera (Alab ng Puso sa Dibdib Mo'y Buhay! (Kikomachine Komix, #5))
Gunaah ka bojh kiya hota hai aur aadmi apnay gunaah kay bojh ko kiss tarah qayaamat kay din apni pusht say utaar phainkna chahay ga kiss tarah uss say door bhaagna chahay ga kiss tarah doosray kay kandhay per daal dena chahay ga,yeh uss ki samajh mai Haram Shareef mai pohanch kar aya tha.Wahan kharay ho kar woh apnay paas mojood aur anay wali saari zindagi ki daulat kay aiwaz bhi kisi ko woh guna ah baichna chahta tu koi yeh tijarat na karta.Kaash aadmi kisi maal kay aiwaz apnay gunaah baich sakta.Kisi ujrat kay taur per doosron ki naikiyaan mangnay ka haq rakhta.Laakhon loagon kay iss hujoom mai 2 sufaid chaadarain orhay,kaun janta tha kay Salaar Sikandar kaun tha?Uss ka I.Q Level kiya tha.Kissay parwah thi?Uss kay paas kaun kaunsi aur kahan ki Degree thi.Kissay hosh tha?Uss nay zindagi kay Maidaan mai kitnay taleemi record toray aur banaye thay.Kissay khabar thi woh apnay zehan kay kaun say maidaan taskheer karnay wala tha.Kaun rashk karnay wala tha?Woh wahan uss hujoom mai thokar kha kar girta,Bhagdar mai ronda jata.Uss kay ooper say guzarnay wali khalqat mai say koi bhi yeh nahin sochta kay unhone kaisay dimaagh ko kho diya hai.Kiss I.Q Level kay nayaab aadmi ko kis tarah khatam kar diya tha.Ussay duniya mai apni auqaat,apni ahmiyat ka pata chal gaya tha.Agar kuch mughaalita reh bhi gaya tha tu ab khatam hogaya tha.Agar kuch shubah baaqi tha,tu ab door hogaya tha.Fakhar,takabbur,rashk,ana,khudpasandi,khud sataayishi kay her bachay hue tukray ko nichor kar uss nay andar say phaink diya tha.Woh in hi alaaishon ko door karwanay kay liye wahan aya tha.
Umera Ahmed
han dil udaas ha magar ab na teri koi aas ha zamana chora tujhay apna banaya tu ne hamein thukraya zamana apnaya ab jab zaroorat hay mujhay zamany ki tujhay b nahi koi zarorat ab laut any ki teri in adaaon ko jan gya mein yeh wohi adat purani c masoom dilon say khelna han yeh wohi kahani c rabba tu dikha dena issy bhala rasta kahin na le bethy baduwa kisi tootay dil say ye larki jan k jo bani anjani c.........xx
aar kay
There are many versions of a story. Many sides and lenses that can distort, change, illuminate what is seen and unseen. What is heard and unheard. What is felt and unfelt. In the end, truth is but a facet of a diamond, a spark of ray from the sun, a forget-me-not flower seen from the eyes of a bee. What lives and breathes as reality is a perception, so who is to say what is possible and impossible?
An Na (The Place Between Breaths)
I love that accent you have when you say hello You relocated from New York a month ago That minivan that you drive really gets me going And if it feels like it's right Then it can't be wrong No one understands the chemistry we have And it came out of nowhere Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah It's not like we planned this, it's getting out of hand And now we're gonna go there Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Walk my way Mrs All American Say my name No need to pretend Don't be shy Mrs All American I'll show you why You're not gonna walk away Yeah Not just a neighbour Oh hey there I'll ring your bell Open your door, pucker up And I'll kiss you well My lips are sealed There's nobody that I would tell Your secret's mine, close your eyes And I'll make you melt No one understands the chemistry we have And it came out of nowhere Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah It's not like we planned this, it's getting out of hand And now we're gonna go there Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Walk my way Mrs All American Say my name No need to pretend Don't be shy Mrs All American I'll show you why You're not gonna walk away Oh yeah Na na na na na na na na You know what she like Na na na na na na na na You know what she like Na na na na na na na na Ah you know what she like Na na na na na na na Walk my way Mrs All American Say my name No need to pretend Don't be shy Mrs All American I'll show you why You're not gonna walk away (Walk my way) Oh yeah (Say my name) You're not gonna walk away (Don't be shy) (I'll show you why) You're not gonna walk away
5 Seconds of Summer
Lucia opened the door. "They say not to discuss politics and religion on the first date." “Well, then.” I gave her a huge smile. “We’re screwed.
Jennifer Lane (Blocked)
Mtu akikushauri kufanya kitu ambacho ni kinyume na takdiri ('destiny') ya maisha yako, hata kama huyo mtu hana nia mbaya na wewe, sema 'hapana' kwa hiyo 'ndiyo' yake.
Enock Maregesi
Katika maisha watu watakufitini, watakurubuni na watakukatisha tamaa. Sema hapana kwa ndiyo nyingi.
Enock Maregesi
Da je na svetu više ludaka poput nas, svet bi bio normalnije mesto.
Tamara Kučan (Profajler)
Considera quem te aponta os defeitos como se te desvendasse tesouros. Segue o sábio que te reprova os erros. Na verdade, estar em tal companhia é um grande bem, e não um mal.
Gautama Buddha (The Dhammapada : The Sayings of Buddha)
Bahala na," as the Filipinos say, which is an untranslatable phrase containing the same germ of philosophy as the Arabic "inshalla" or the Spanish "mañana" or the English "you must have me mixed up with somebody who gives a shit".
P.J. O'Rourke (Holidays in Hell: In Which Our Intrepid Reporter Travels to the World's Worst Places and Asks, "What's Funny about This?")
...in one of his Irish Times columns written under the name of Myles na gCopaleen, [Flann] O’Brien offered a service to readers who owned books but did not open them. For a fee, books would be handled, with passages underlined or spines damaged or words such as ‘Rubbish’ or ‘Yes, but cf Homer, Od. iii, 151’ or ‘I remember poor Joyce saying the same thing to me’ written in the margins. Or inscriptions on the title page such as ‘From your devoted friend and follower, K. Marx.’" --"Flann O'Brien's Lies," Colm Tóibin, London Review of Books, Jan. 5, 2012
Colm Tóibín
If an inmate swears at a guard, fights, or hides contraband like cigarettes or candy [Sheriff Arpaio has banned coffee, cigarettes, hot lunches, girlie mags & TV], she's kicked out of the tents and sent to lockdown--a tiny cell 10x12 feet that houses 4 women, instead of the 2 it was built for. There's no tv, no phone, & no a/c. Even though most of these women have drug problems, programs like NA or AA are considered 'privileges' forbidden to those locked down. The only way to get out of lockdown is to volunteer for the chain gang--the first & only female chain gang in the United States (as of Aug 1997). Volunteers sign a paper that says they know & accept the conditions on the chain--cleaning Phoenix streets, painting the center strip of miles of highway, & burying AZ's indigent. The accusation of 'cruel & unusual punishment' is quashed by the argument that the chain gang is purely voluntary. After all, if you prefer, you can spend the whole year in lockdown.
Jane Evelyn Atwood (Too Much Time: Women in Prison)
and as I said before, though I should na' say it, I'm a good hand, measter, and a steady man—specially when I can keep fro' drink; and that
Elizabeth Gaskell (North and South)
Failure is the breeding ground of innovation. How so, you say? Consider Thomas Edison's approach to failure: 'I have not failed, I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.
Grant Faulkner (Pep Talks for Writers: 52 Insights and Actions to Boost Your Creative Mojo (Novel and Creative Writing Book, National Novel Writing Month NaNoWriMo Guide))
A saying still used in Portugal is Anda Mouro na costa (literally, “there are Moors off the coast”). It indicates that trouble is afoot,
Barry Hatton (Queen of the Sea: A History of Lisbon)
Kids can say anything in a mocking, singsong voice, and make it sound uncool. “You have ears. Nyah-nyah-na-nyah-nyah, you have eee-ars and they’re on the side of your fay-ace!
Kevin Hart (I Can't Make This Up)
It is indeed a tricky name. It is often misspelt, because the eye tends to regard the "a" of the first syllable as a misprint and then tries to restore the symmetrical sequence by triplicating the "o"- filling up the row of circles, so to speak, as in a game of crosses and naughts. No-bow-cough. How ugly, how wrong. Every author whose name is fairly often mentioned in periodicals develops a bird-watcher's or caterpillar-picker's knack when scanning an article. But in my case I always get caught by the word "nobody" when capitalized at the beginning of a sentence. As to pronunciation, Frenchmen of course say Nabokoff, with the accent on the last syllable. Englishmen say Nabokov, accent on the first, and Italians say Nabokov, accent in the middle, as Russians also do. Na-bo-kov. A heavy open "o" as in "Knickerbocker". My New England ear is not offended by the long elegant middle "o" of Nabokov as delivered in American academies. The awful "Na-bah-kov" is a despicable gutterism. Well, you can make your choice now. Incidentallv, the first name is pronounced Vladeemer- rhyming with "redeemer"- not Vladimir rhyming with Faddimere (a place in England, I think).
Vladimir Nabokov (Strong Opinions)
If I was a betting man, I'd say you intentionally collided with me just to start up a conversation" he starts "but sweetheart, all you had to do was stop by and say hello... no concussions necessary.
Sarah Clay (Never Enough)
If you think you can dismiss our beauty and belittle us you should just know, say what you will, but I am going to make you eat your words. Fatgirl is coming for you. Na na na na na na na na FATGIRL!!!!!
Rebecca Jane Weinstein (Fat Sex: The Naked Truth)
Somehow you don't question things until you come face to face with the person and suddenly- suddenly you realize that behind all them stories it have a flesh- and- blood, breathing, feeling person who capable of hurting, yes! Well, ask her, na. Ask her if she want to garden. I think about starting a plot for the old people to have something to do. Some people say that gardening good for old people. I am proof of that!
Shani Mootoo (Cereus Blooms at Night)
They're kicking us out saying it's time to close We're leaning on each other try'na beat the cold Carry your shoes and I give you my coat Walking these streets like they're paved gold Anymore excuses is not to go Neither one of us want to take that taxi home Singing our hearts, standing on chairs Spending the time like we were millionaires Laughing our heads off, the two of us stared Spending the time like we were millionaires Lost my heart and I hope to die Seeing that sunlight hit your eyes Been up all night but you still look amazing to me Half the time of the night you only dream About if God came down he could take me now Cause in my mind, yeah we will always be
The Script
I remembered Sant Kabir's famous doha that my mother often quoted: Jako rakhe Saiyan, maar sakey na koy Baal na banko kar sakey, jo jag bairi hoy He whom God protects, no one can kill. Even if the whole world turns into his enemy, not even a hair of his can they harm.
Rakesh Maria (Let Me Say it Now)
A rua exprimia a perturbadora angústia de uma colectividade; não era um indivíduo orgulhoso a gabar-se da sua história. Era humana e grande na sua aflição por gritar a dor de toda uma multidão. E Sayed Karam assistia impotente a este grito dos homens através da matéria.
Albert Cossery (Men God Forgot)
Katika maisha watu wengi hawataki kukuona ukiendelea kwa sababu ukiendelea unakuwa kioo kwao. Ghafla wataanza kukutazama. Wanajua wana akili kama wewe, wamesoma kama wewe, au wana akili kuliko wewe, au wamesoma kuliko wewe, na labda wanazijua sifa zako za udhaifu na sifa zako za ushupavu toka utotoni kwako. Lakini ghafla unakuwa kioo, na wanapojitazama katika hicho kioo, wanajiona taswira zao isipokuwa sasa hawapo mahali ambapo wewe upo. Katika maisha watu watakushauri, watakufitini, watakurubuni na watakukatisha tamaa. Sema hapana kwa ndiyo nyingi kwa sababu hawaoni unachokiona, hawajui unachokifanya na hawajui unapoelekea. Unachokiona ni takdiri ya maisha yako, unachokifanya ni kupanda mbegu na kuzimwagilia kwa imani, na unapoelekea ni kileleni. Hivyo, songa mbele, kuwa wewe daima, wape muda, wape nafasi.
Enock Maregesi
Are you anywhere near Champaign-Urbana?" "No." "I went there once. I thought from its name that it would be a different kind of place. I kept saying to myself, 'Champagne, urbah na, champagne, urbah na! Champagne! Urbana'" He sighed. "It was just this thing in the middle of a field.
Lorrie Moore (Birds of America: Stories)
See you at breakfast?" "Yeah.See ya." I try to say this casually,but I'm so thrilled that I skip from her room and promptly slam into a wall. Whoops.Not a wall.A boy. "Oof." He staggers backward. "Sorry! I'm so sorry,I didn't know you were there." He shakes his head,a little dazed. The first thing I notice is his hair-it's the first thing I notice about everyone. It's dark brown and messy and somehow both long and short at the same time. I think of the Beatles,since I've just seen them in Meredith's room. It's artist hair.Musician hair. I-pretend-I-don't-care-but-I-really-do-hair. Beautiful hair. "It's okay,I didn't see you either. Are you all right,then?" Oh my.He's English. "Er.Does Mer live here?" Seriously,I don't know any American girl who can resist an English accent. The boy clears his throat. "Meredith Chevalier? Tall girl? Big,curly hair?" Then he looks at me like I'm crazy or half deaf,like my Nanna Oliphant. Nanna just smiles and shakes her head whenever I ask, "What kind of salad dressing would you like?" or "Where did you put Granddad's false teeth?" "I'm sorry." He takes the smallest step away from me. "You were going to bed." "Yes! Meredith lives there.I've just spent two hours with her." I announce this proudly like my brother, Seany, whenever he finds something disgusting in the yard. "I'm Anna! I'm new here!" Oh God. What.Is with.The scary enthusiasm? My cheeks catch fire, and it's all so humiliating. The beautiful boy gives an amused grin. His teeth are lovely-straight on top and crooked on the bottom,with a touch of overbite. I'm a sucker for smiles like this,due to my own lack of orthodontia. I have a gap between my front teeth the size of a raisin. "Etienne," he says. "I live one floor up." "I live here." I point dumbly at my room while my mind whirs: French name, English accent, American school. Anna confused. He raps twice on Meredith's door. "Well. I'll see you around then, Anna." Eh-t-yen says my name like this: Ah-na. My heart thump thump thumps in my chest.
Stephanie Perkins (Anna and the French Kiss (Anna and the French Kiss, #1))
And there has been no attempt to investigate it,' I said, 'to see what it really is?' 'Eh, Cornel,' said the coachman's wife, 'wha would investigate, as ye call it, a thing that nobody believes in? Ye would be the laughing-stock of a' the country-side, as my man says.' 'But you believe in it,' I said, turning upon her hastily. The woman was taken by surprise. She made a step backward out of my way. 'Lord, Cornel, how ye frichten a body! Me! there's awful strange things in this world. An unlearned person doesna ken what to think. But the minister and the gentry they just laugh in your face. Inquire into the thing that is not! Na, na, we just let it be.' ("The Open Door")
Mrs. Oliphant (The Gentlewomen of Evil: An Anthology of Rare Supernatural Stories from the Pens of Victorian Ladies)
In view of the possibility of finding meaning in suffering, life's meaning is an unconditional one, at least potentially. That unconditional meaning, however, is paralleled by the unconditional value of each and every person. It is that which warrants the indelible quality of the dignity of man. Just as life remains potentially meaningful under any conditions, even those which are most miserable, so too does the value of each and every person stay with him or her, and it does so because it is based on the values that he or she has realized in the past, and is not contingent on the usefulness that he or she may or may not retain in the present. More specifically, this usefulness is usually defined in terms of functioning for the benefit of society. But today's society is characterized by achievement orientation, and consequently it adores people who are successful and happy and, in particular, it adores the young. It virtually ignores the value of those who are otherwise, and in so doing blurs the decisive difference between being valuable in the sense of dignity and being valuable in the sense of usefulness. If one is not cognizant of this difference and holds that na individual's value stems only from his present usefulness, then, believe me, one owes it only to personal inconsistency not to plead for euthanasia along the lines of Hitler's program, that is to say, "mercy" killing of all those who have lost their social usefulness, be it because of old age, incurable illness, mental deterioration, or whatever handicap they may suffer. Confounding the dignity of man with mere usefulness arises from a conceptual confusion that in turn may be traced back to the contemporary nihilism transmitted on many an academic campus and many an analytical couch. Even in the setting of training analyses such an indoctrination may take place. Nihilism does not contend that there is nothing, but it states that everything is meaningless. And George A. Sargent was right when he promulgated the concept of "learned meaninglessness." He himself remembered a therapist who said, "George, you must realize that the world is a joke. There is no justice, everything is random. Only when you realize this will you understand how silly it is to take yourself seriously. There is no grand purpose in the universe. It just is. There's no particular meaning in what decision you make today about how to act." One must generalize such a criticism. In principle, training is indispensable, but if so, therapists should see their task in immunizing the trainee against nihilism rather than inoculating him with the cynicism that is a defense mechanism against their own nihilism.
Viktor E. Frankl (Man’s Search for Meaning)
Every inch of me vibrated beneath the surface, hummed and inflamed whenever my body touched his. I rolled my hips and arched closer against him, feeling incredible heat beyond his expensive black suit, and then I licked the inside of his mouth. Like a reflex, he sucked on my tongue. Heat, tiny pricks of heat, consumed me from the inside out. He pulled back to roughly say, “Ty dazhe na vkus sladkaya.
Danielle Lori (The Darkest Temptation (Made, #3))
Before you are admitted to British citizenship you are not even considered a natural human being. I looked up the word natural (na’tural) in the Pocket Oxford Dictionary (p. 251); it says: Of or according to or provided by nature, physically existing, innate, instinctive, normal, not miraculous or spiritual or artificial or conventional.... Note that before you obtain British citizenship, they simply doubt that you are provided by nature.
George Mikes (How to Be a Brit)
There is a popular saying in Igbo 'Amakam ihe na Ozubulu, puta Nnewi buru ewu'. This means, you can be so enlightened in a particular place and when you step outside that place, you become ignorant. Again, the Igbos say "Agwo otu onye furu na agho eke" - A snake seen my one man is usually described as a Python! Always try to see what and how others are doing. It will help you stop wallowing in an imaginary self glorification! Remember to be humble.
Magnus Nwagu Amudi
I think that is called the ‘Golden Rule,’ Brennus. ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,’” I say with a crooked smile. Faolan looks at me strangely, asking, “Dat’s a rule? Den whah’s da ‘Silver Rule?’” Before I can answer, Eion chimes in, “Da ‘Silver Rule’ must be whah ye do when the ‘Golden Rule’ does na work. It must be, ‘Kill all da others before dey kill all of yous.’” Lachlan smiles at me and says, “Da ‘Golden Rule’ should really be, ‘Ye will bleed if ye do na do whah I’m telling ye.
Amy A. Bartol (Indebted (The Premonition, #3))
But wha cookit the parridge for him?” exclaimed the Baillie, “I wad like to ken that;—wha, but your honour’s to command, Duncan Macwheeble? His honour, young Mr Waverley, pat it a’ in my hand frae the beginning—frae the first calling o’ the summons, as I may say. I circumvented them—I played at bogle about the bush wi’ them—I cajolled them; and if I have na gien Inch-Grabbit and Jamie Howie a bonnie begunk, they ken themselves. Him a writer! I did na gae slap-dash to them wi’ our young bra’ bridegroom, to gar them haud up the market; na, na; I scared them wi’ our wild tenantry, and the Mac-Ivors, that are but ill settled yet, till they durst na on ony errand whatsoever gang ower the door-stane after gloaming, for fear John Heatherblutter, or some siccan dare-the-diel, should take a baff at them: then, on the other hand, I beflum’d them wi’ Colonel Talbot—wad they offer to keep up the price again the Duke’s friend? did na they ken wha was master? had na they seen aneuch, by the example of mony a poor misguided unhappy body”—
Walter Scott (Waverley)
I'm sorry for you." "Why?" asked Tiktok. "Because you have no brains, as I have," said the Scarecrow. "Oh, yes, I have," returned Tiktok. "I am fit-ted with Smith & Tin-ker's Im-proved Com-bi-na-tion Steel Brains. They are what make me think. What sort of brains are you fit-ted with?" "I don't know," admitted the Scarecrow. "They were given to me by the great Wizard of Oz, and I didn't get a chance to examine them before he put them in. But they work splendidly and my conscience is very active. Have you a conscience?" "No," said Tiktok. "And no heart, I suppose?" added the Tin Woodman, who had been listening with interest to this conversation. "No," said Tiktok. "Then," continued the Tin Woodman, "I regret to say that you are greatly inferior to my friend
L. Frank Baum (The Complete Oz)
The non-event is not when nothing happens. It is, rather, the realm of perpetual change, of a ceaseless updating, of an incessant succession in real time, which produces this general equivalence, this indifference, this banality that characterizes the zero degree of the event. A perpetual escalation that is also the escalation of growth - or of fashion, which is pre-eminently the field of compulsive change and built-in obsolescence. The ascendancy of models gives rise to a culture of difference that puts an end to any historical continuity. Instead of unfolding as part of a history, things have begun to succeed each other in the void. A profusion of language and images before which we are defenceless, reduced to the same powerlessness, to the same paralysis as we might show on the approach of war. It isn't a question of disinformation or brainwashing. It was a naIve error on the part of the FBI to attempt to create a Disinformation Agency for purposes of managed manipulation - a wholly useless undertaking, since disinformation comes from the very profusion of information, from its incantation, its looped repetition, which creates an empty perceptual field, a space shattered as though by a neutron bomb or by one of those devices that sucks in all the oxygen from the area of impact. It's a space where everything is pre-neutralized, including war, by the precession of images and commentaries, but this is perhaps because there is at bottom nothing to say about something that unfolds, like this war, to a relentless scenario, without a glimmer of uncertainty regarding the final outcome.
Jean Baudrillard (The Intelligence of Evil or the Lucidity Pact (Talking Images))
Now everyone knows that to try to say something in the mainstream Western media that is critical of U.S. policy or Israel is extremely difficult; conversely, to say things that are hostile to the Arabs as a people and culture, or Islam as a religion, is laughably easy. For in effect there is a cultural war between spokespersons for the West and those of the Muslim and Arab world. In so inflamed a situation, the hardest thing to do as an intellectual is to be critical, to refuse to adopt a rhetorical style that is the verbal equivalent of carpet-bombing, and to focus instead on those issues like U.S. support for unpopular client re­gimes, which for a person writing in the U.S. are somewhat more likely to be affected by critical discussion. Of course, on the other hand, there is a virtual cer­tainty of getting an audience if as an Arab intellectual you passionately, even slavishly support U.S. policy, you attack its critics, and if they happen to be Arabs, you invent evi­dence to show their villainy; if they are American you confect stories and situations that prove their duplicity; you spin out stories concerning Arabs and Muslims that have the effect of defaming their tradition, defacing their history, accentuating their weaknesses, of which of course there are plenty. Above all, you attack the officially ap­ proved enemies-Saddam Hussein, Baathism, Arab na­tionalism, the Palestinian movement, Arab views of Israel. And of course this earns you the expected accolades: you are characterized as courageous, you are outspoken and passionate, and on and on. The new god of course is the West. Arabs, you say, should try to be more like the West, should regard the West as a source and a reference point. · Gone is the history of what the West actually did. Gone are the Gulf War's destructive results. We Arabs and Mus­lims are the sick ones, our problems are our own, totally self-inflicted. A number of things stand out about these kinds of performance. In the first place, there is no universalism here at all. Because you serve a god uncritically, all the devils are always on the other side: this was as true when you were a Trotskyist as it i's now when you are a recanting former Trotskyist. You do not think of politics in terms of interrelationships or of common histories such as, for instance, the long and complicated dynamic that has bound the Arabs and Muslims to the West and vice versa. Real intellectual analysis forbids calling one side innocent, the other evil. Indeed the notion of a side is, where cultures are at issue, highly problematic, since most cultures aren't watertight little packages, all homogenous, and all either good or evil. But if your eye is on your patron, you cannot think as an intellectual, but only as a disciple or acolyte. In the back of your mind there is the thought that you must please and not displease.
Edward W. Said (Representations of the Intellectual)
On the 27th morning, at around 8 a.m. the train left Godhra Station. The karsevaks were loudly chanting the Ram Dhoon. The train had hardly gone a few meters, when it suddenly stopped. Somebody had perhaps pulled the chain to stop the train. Before anybody could know what had happened, we saw a huge mob approaching the train. People were carrying weapons like Gupti, Spears, Swords and such other deadly weapons in their hands and were throwing stones at the train. We all got frightened and somehow closed the windows and the doors of the compartment. People outside were shouting loudly, saying ‘Maro, Kato’ and were attacking the train. A loudspeaker from the Masjid (i.e. Mosque) closeby was also very loudly shouting ‘Maro, Kato, Laden na dushmano ne Maro.’ (“Cut, kill, kill the enemies of Laden”)These attackers were so fierce that they managed to break the windows and close the doors from outside before pouring petrol inside and setting the compartment on fire so that nobody could escape alive. A number of attackers entered the compartment and were beating the karsevaks and looting their belongings. The compartments were drenched in petrol all over. We were terrified and were shouting for help but who was there to help us? A few policemen were later seen approaching the compartment but they were also whisked away by the furious mob outside. There was so much of smoke in the compartment that we were unable to see each other and also getting suffocated. Going out was too difficult, however, myself and Pooja somehow managed to jump out through the windows. Pooja was hurt in her back and was unable to stand up. People outside were trying to hold us to take us away but we could escape and run under the burning train and succeeded in crawling towards the cabin. I have seen my parents and sisters being burnt alive right in front of my eyes.” Luckily, Gayatri was not hurt too badly. “We somehow managed to go up to the station and meet our aunty (Masi). After the compartments were completely burnt, the crowd started withering. We saw that even amongst them were men, women and youngsters like us, both male and female.
M.D. Deshpande (Gujarat Riots: The True Story: The Truth of the 2002 Riots)
Insofar as the feeling of meaninglessness is concerned, however, we should not overlook and forget that, per se, it is not a matter of pathology; rather than being the sign and symptom of a neurosis, it is, I would say, the proof of one's humanness. But although it is not caused by anything pathological, it may well cause a pathological reaction; in other words, it is potentially pathogenic. Just consider the mass neurotic syndrome so pervasive in the young generation: there is ample empirical evidence that the three facets of this syndrome-depression, aggression, addiction-are due to what is called in logotherapy "the existential vacuum," a feeling of emptiness and meaninglessness. It goes without saying that not each and every case of depression is to be traced back to a feeling of meaninglessness, nor does suicide-in which depression sometimes eventuates-always result from an existential vacuum. But even if each and every case of suicide had not been undertaken out of a feeling of meaninglessness, it may well be that na individual's impulse to take his life would have been overcome had he been aware of some meaning and purpose worth living for. If, thus, a strong meaning orientation plays a decisive role in the prevention of suicide, what about intervention in cases in which there is a suicide risk?
Viktor E. Frankl (Man’s Search for Meaning)
Reaching into his sporran, he pulled out a small bundle wrapped in fine linen. “I want to give ye somethin’, somethin’I want ye to wear this day.”Carefully, he unfolded the linen and held his hand out to her. Josephine’s eyes widened with curiosity and joy. “’Tis beautiful, Graeme!” “It be a brooch that each MacAulay lad receives when he turns six and ten. I want ye to have it.” Josephine carefully took it and studied it closely. Made of pewter, in the center of the brooch were two hands, one decidedly masculine, the other feminine. The masculine hand held the feminine hand in his palm. In the center of her palm was a tiny ruby. To one side, the circle had been engraved to look like stars twinkling near a crescent moon. On the other were the words aeterna devotione. Eternal devotion. Tears filled her eyes as she looked into his. “Ye want me to have this?” “Aye, I do, Joie,”he said as he placed a kiss on her forehead. “Me great-great-great grandfather presented a brooch just like this to his wife, me great-great-great grandmum. But no’until the first anniversary of their weddin’day. ’Twas a symbol of the great love they had found with one another. ’Tis tradition for the MacAulay men to only give their brooch to a woman who has stolen their heart, a woman they love and trust above all else.” Tears trailed down her cheeks, her heart beating so rapidly she was certain it would burst through her breastbone at any moment. “I do no’quite understand how it happened, or how it happened so quickly, Joie, but it has. Amorem in corde meo ut arctius coccino colloeandus arctius ideo astra,”Graeme said first in Latin and then again in Gaelic, “Toisc go bhfuil do ghrá eitseáilte isteach i mo chroí i corcairdhearg, mar sin tá sé eitseáilte amonst na réaltaí.”He placed a tender kiss on her cheek. “As yer love be etched into me heart in crimson, so it be etched amongst the stars,”he told her. “As me grandda said those words to me grandmum all those many years ago, I say them to ye.
Suzan Tisdale (Isle of the Blessed)
A folded triangle of paper landed in the center of his notebook. Normally he’d unfold it discreetly, but Beamis was so clueless that the note could have hit him in the head and he wouldn’t notice. Loopy script in purple pen. The paper smelled like her. What’s your #? Wow. Hunter clicked his pen and wrote below her words. I have a theory about girls who ask for your number before asking for your name. Then he folded it up and flicked it back. It took every ounce of self-control to not watch her unfold it. The paper landed back on his desk in record time. I have a theory about boys who prefer writing to texting. He put his pen against the paper. I have a theory about girls with theories. Then he waited, not looking, fighting the small smile that wanted to play on his lips. The paper didn’t reappear. After a minute, he sighed and went back to his French essay. When the folded triangle smacked him in the temple, he jumped a mile. His chair scraped the floor, and Beamis paused in his lecture, turning from the board. “Is there a problem?” “No.” Hunter coughed, covering the note with his hand. “Sorry.” When the coast was clear, he unfolded the triangle. It was a new piece of paper. My name is Kate. Kate. Hunter almost said the name out loud. What was wrong with him? It fit her perfectly, though. Short and blunt and somehow indescribably hot. Another piece of paper landed on his notebook, a small strip rolled up tiny. This time, there was only a phone number. Hunter felt like someone had punched him in the stomach and he couldn’t remember how to breathe. Then he pulled out his cell phone and typed under the desk. Come here often? Her response appeared almost immediately. First timer. Beamis was facing the classroom now, so Hunter kept his gaze up until it was safe. When he looked back, Kate had written again. I bet I could strip na**d and this guy wouldn’t even notice. Hunter’s pulse jumped. But this was easier, looking at the phone instead of into her eyes. I would notice. There was a long pause, during which he wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. Then a new text appeared. I have a theory about boys who picture you na**d before sharing their name. He smiled. My name is Hunter. Where you from? This time, her response appeared immediately. Just transferred from St. Mary’s in Annapolis. Now he was imagining her in a little plaid skirt and knee-high socks. Another text appeared. Stop imagining me in the outfit. He grinned. How did you know? You’re a boy. I’m still waiting to hear your theory on piercings. Right. IMO, you have to be crazy hot to pull off either piercings or tattoos. Otherwise you’re just enhancing the ugly. Hunter stared at the phone, wondering if she was hitting on him—or insulting him. Before he could figure it out, another message appeared. What does the tattoo on your arm say? He slid his fingers across the keys. It says “ask me about this tattoo.” Liar. Mission accomplished, I’d say. He heard a small sound from her direction and peeked over. She was still staring at her phone, but she had a smile on her face, like she was trying to stifle a giggle. Mission accomplished, he’d say.
Brigid Kemmerer (Spirit (Elemental, #3))
LIFE" wHat is tHIs? I tHInk itz n0tHIng n0thIng n0thIng I mEt maNy p30pLe in mY LiFe...buT 0nE daY AccIdentLy G0D haVe sh0wn mE a beAutIfuL m0vemEnt buT I waX n0t awAre ab0uT tHIs dat itZ m0rE pAinFuLL . I Can't eXpLaIn in Few W0rdZ .In sh0rt juS waNa saY L0st mY eVerytHing buT aLL g0ex In vAin.....In 0ther xEnce My Life br0keD mE in unLimItED piceS.....buT wHen these past m0vemEnts runz In mY mInd jus FeeLing huRteD & i can't xpLain dat wat i feeL ...
Malik Faisal
Kotov looked like an abandoned statue on the beach in the Plaza de Cataluna. The spring was at is height and the warm un bathed the city. The adviser, with his face slightly raised, was receiving the heat like a lizard slothful from the rays that were injecting him with life. He had even taken off his jacket and the printed kerchief he regularly wore after Ramon sat down at his side. 'What a marvelous country!' he said at last, and smiled. 'I could live here for the rest of my life.' 'Despite the Spaniards?' 'Precisely because of you. Where I come from, the people are like stones. You are all flowers. My country smells like smoked herring and hops; here it smells of olive oil and wine.' 'Your pals say we're primitive and practically dumb.' 'Don't pay too much attention to those lunatics. They confuse ideology with mysticism, and they are no more than walking machines - worse still, they're fanatics. Here they make themselves look tough, but you should see them when Moscow calls for them... Na khuy. They shit themselves. Don't look to them as an example; you don't want to be like them. You can be so much more.' p. 162
Leonardo Padura (El hombre que amaba a los perros)
my worshipers, the daughter of my dispersed ones,         shall bring my offering.     11  z “On that day  a you shall not be put to shame         because of the deeds by which you have rebelled against me;     for then  b I will remove from your midst         your proudly exultant ones,     and  c you shall no longer be haughty         in my holy mountain.     12 But I will leave in your midst         a people  d humble and lowly.      e They shall seek refuge in the name of the LORD,         13  f those who are left in Israel;     they  g shall do no injustice         and speak no lies,      h nor shall there be found in their mouth         a deceitful tongue.      i For they shall graze and lie down,         and none shall make them afraid.” Israel’s Joy and Restoration     14[†]  j Sing aloud, O daughter of Zion;         shout, O Israel!     Rejoice and exult with all your heart,         O daughter of Jerusalem!     15 The LORD has taken away the judgments against you;         he has cleared away your enemies.      k The King of Israel,  l the LORD, is in your midst;         you shall never again fear evil.     16  z On that day it shall be said to Jerusalem:     “Fear not, O Zion;          m let not your hands grow weak.     17  l The LORD your God is in your midst,          n a mighty one who will save;      o he will rejoice over you with gladness;         he will quiet you by his love;     he will exult over you with loud singing.     18 I will gather those of you who mourn  p for the festival,         so that you will no longer suffer reproach. [3]     19 Behold, at that time  q I will deal         with all your oppressors.     And  r I will save the lame         and gather the outcast,     and I will change  s their shame into  t praise         and renown in all the earth.     20  u At that time I will bring you in,         at the time when I gather you together;     for I will make you renowned and praised         among all the peoples of the earth,      v when I restore your fortunes         before your eyes,” says the LORD.
Anonymous (ESV Gospel Transformation Bible)
Listen, dis foreign TV channels dey spoil de image of our country. Dese white stations dey make billions of dollars to sell your war and blood to de world… We no bad like dis. OK, why dem no dey show corpses of deir white people during crisis for TV? Abi, people no dey kill for America or Europe?” “You dey speak grammar!” someone shouted. “Wetin concern us wid America and Europe? Abeg, give us cable TV.” “Remove dis toilet pictures!” said another. “So our barracks be toilet now?” the police answered. "What an insult!“ "You na mad mad police,” Monica said. “Ok, cable TV no be for free anymore!” the police said. “But it’s our pictures we are watching on cable TV,” Madam Aniema said. “Why should we pay you to see ourselves and our people?” The police answered, “Because government dey complain say cable TV dey misrepresent dis religious crisis.
Uwem Akpan (Say You're One of Them)
Pektusan kaya kita, para naman malaman mo na MAHAL KITA.
Eden Waynne O. Minion
Rekoh: Umorio sam se od svih tih boja i smicalica. Uvijek sam tragao za nekim tko nije toliko zemaljski. Upita: A koliko si ti nebeski? Koliko ti je srce nebesko? Što sam trebao reći? Rekao sam: Toliko da mi na Zemlji ponestaje daha i da mi Zemlja tjeskobno stišće srce. Upitah: Kako bi bilo kad biste uvijek bili tu i uvijek se smijali? Mislim da bi i Zemlja i nebo bili ispunjeni mirisom bagremova cvijeta. Reče: Cijenite trenutke. Prolaze poput oblaka.
Sayed Mehdi Shojaei (Plavo, ali boje sumraka)
Why are our people going out there,” said Mr. Boggis of the Thieves’ Guild. Because they are showing a brisk pioneering spirit and seeking wealth and … additional wealth I na new land,” said Lord Vetinari. “What’s in it for the Klatchians?” said Lord Downey. “Oh, they’ve gone out there because they are a bunch of unprincipled opportunists always ready to grab something for northern,” said Lord Vetinari. “A mastery summation, if I may say so, my lord,” said Mr. Burleigh. The Patrician looked down again at his notes. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, I seem to have read those last to sentences in the wrong order…
Terry Pratchett (Jingo (Discworld, #21; City Watch, #4))
Ne budite ravnodusni na tudjoj patnji
Rada Krivokapic Radonjic (Odijevanje)
When Filipinos want to express deep appreciation, they say they have an utang na loob—a debt of gratitude.
Jason DeParle (A Good Provider Is One Who Leaves: One Family and Migration in the 21st Century)
Okuko si na ya anaghi eti ka egbe ji ya haa ya; kama na ya na-eti ka oha nuru olu ya. The chicken carried away by a hawk says that it is crying not so that the thing carrying it will let it go, but so that the public will hear its voice and be witness.
Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani (I Do Not Come to You by Chance)
The Taittiriya Upanishad says, food is ‘annam brahmeti’ (food is Brahman, the highest reality and conscious principle). It adds, ‘Annam na nindayat tad vratam’ (do not criticize food, that is the pledge), ‘na parichakshita tad vratam’ (do not despise food, that is the pledge).
Hansa Jayadeva Yogendra (Yoga For All: Discovering the True Essence of Yoga)
Measures of Length To give a brief account of matters. In point of measurements, there is first of all the yojana (yu-shen-na); this from the time of the holy kings of old has been regarded as a day’s march for an army. The old accents say it is equal to 40 li; according to the common reckoning in India it is 30 li, but in the sacred books (of Buddha) the yojana is only 16 li. In the subdivision of distances, a yojana is equal to eight krosas (keu-lu-she); a krosa is the distance that the lowing of a cow can be heard; a krosa is divided into 500 bows (dhanus); a bow is divided into four cubits (hastas); a cubit is divided into 24 fingers (angulis); a finger is divided into seven barleycorns (javas); and so on to a louse (yuka), a nit (liksha), a dust grain, a cow’s hair, a sheep’s hair, a hare’s down, copper-water,315 and so on for seven divisions, till we come to a small grain of dust; this is divided sevenfold till we come to an excessively small grain of dust (anu); this cannot be divided further without arriving at nothingness, and so it is called the infinitely small (paramanu).
Sandhya Jain (The India They Saw (Volume 1))
Want to know a cool word my mom taught me today? It’s the answer to life’s problems.” “Sure.” “Happenstance,” Charlie said matter of fact. “Happen what?” “Happenstance,” Charlie said again, this time slower and enunciating. “My mom said that happenstance is like a coincidence. It’s another way of saying that sometimes things happen to you that you can’t control.” “Okay?” “My mom says circumstances are environmental. The circumstance or condition affects an event. Or it’s the effect of an event. That’s a happenstance. People confuse the two all the time but they’re not the same thing. Regardless, she said that the outcome is still up to us to decide.
N.A. Leigh (Mr. Hinkle's Verum Ink: the navy blue book (Mr. Hinkle's Verium Ink 1))
Ready to play a game of chess after we have lunch?” Charlie said to Bernie. “No. I don’t want to play anymore. I’m not good at it. I never win.” “You can’t stop because you’re not good. How else do you expect to become good?” “I want to be perfect, you know?” “I know, Bernie. But that’s not possible if you don’t practice.” “And what if I never get any better?” “At least you never quit trying, right? I mean, it’s something that you want to do. What would it say about you if you quit everything that you’ve ever wanted to do because it was hard?” “So what you’re saying is that even if I’m no good at it, I should keep trying anyway?” “Yes! If it brings you joy and makes you happy, keep doing it. You can’t give up.” “Isn’t that pointless?” Bernie asked Charlie. “It’s pointless for you to do something that makes you happy?
N.A. Leigh (Mr. Hinkle's Verum Ink: the navy blue book (Mr. Hinkle's Verium Ink 1))
Now I know why Josie says you’re like Father and why she hates you so much,” Brandon said. “You are like him. You only think about yourself. If people don’t do what you want exactly the way you want it, you can’t even hold up your end of the bargain. It’s always tit for tat with you. You’re going to grow up to be as big of a loser as Father is. And you’re going to be all alone. Watch!
N.A. Leigh (Mr. Hinkle's Verum Ink: the navy blue book (Mr. Hinkle's Verium Ink 1))
I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a psycho…but in a way, I’m relieved that he’s gone too. Towards the end, he was suffering so much and I wanted the pain to end. I wanted him to be free from it.” “That doesn’t make you a psycho. That makes you human. You loved your dad so much that you didn’t want him to suffer.” “But that means that I’d rather he die. Doesn’t that seem a little morose?” “What, that you would rather end your dad’s suffering than have him continue to suffer? How is that morose? People who would rather keep their loved ones alive in their pain and suffering are morbid. Especially if they know that there’s no way to save them or that they’ll never get better. Isn’t that pure torture?” “Yeah, I guess so.” “I mean, we don’t do that to animals. We don’t let them continue to suffer if we know that we can’t save them. And yet, here you are, feeling relief that your dad’s suffering is over. But also feeling guilty because you are glad he’s no longer suffering. You didn’t end his life; a disease did.” “Then why do people feel guilty?” “I guess because...if we hold onto them, it shows that we love them. The longer and harder we fight and hold on, the more it shows we love them. But that can’t be the definition of love. Love is sacrificial; not selfish.” “Life is so confusing, Charlie.” “I know. But I promise that I’ll always be here for you. Together, we’ll figure it out. You will never have to do this alone.
N.A. Leigh (Mr. Hinkle's Verum Ink: the navy blue book (Mr. Hinkle's Verium Ink 1))
It’s a book about how a toy rabbit wants to be real and tries to do it through the love of his owner. In the end, he finds out that he is the only one that can make himself real. That’s you. You’re the velveteen rabbit, Noah. Juju read it to me at the store and I knew I had to get it for you.” “Bran, this is such a great gift. Thank you.” “I know Father is hard on us. But I also know that we always find our way. We have each other. That’s all that matters. I don’t care what Father says. Mother doesn’t speak. It’s you and Jos that I care about, Noah. That’s all that matters to me.” “Thanks, Bran. I’ll cherish this forever.” “The book says once you are real, you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand you. I promise that no matter what, I’ll always understand, Noah.
N.A. Leigh (Mr. Hinkle's Verum Ink: the navy blue book (Mr. Hinkle's Verium Ink 1))
You’re a dying bitter old man,” Luke replied, trying to think of something to say to hurt his father. “And you’re nothing but bitter,” Paul spat back.
N.A. Leigh (Mr. Hinkle's Verum Ink: the navy blue book (Mr. Hinkle's Verium Ink 1))
In the story, The Alchemist, a young Shepard named Santiago went looking for treasure. He traveled the world to fulfill his Personal Legend. On his way, he meets and falls in love with a beautiful and exotic woman named Fatima." “He says to her, ‘So I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you.’ Noah and Arie, I can assure you that like Santiago and Fatima, the universe conspired to help you two find each other." “I wish you a lifetime of more love than anyone could dream of and more happiness than the grains of sand on earth.
N.A. Leigh (Mr. Hinkle's Verum Ink: the navy blue book (Mr. Hinkle's Verium Ink 1))
My mom says that it’s always easy to see the choices that are in front of us. Sometimes, we get so lost trying to decide what we want to do with those choices that we don’t see other choices. She says that not choosing is also making a choice...sometimes, it’s the most important choice.
N.A. Leigh (Mr. Hinkle's Verum Ink: the navy blue book (Mr. Hinkle's Verium Ink 1))
So is the author saying that if we allow ourselves, despair can eat us alive?” “Yeah. He’s trying to tell us that we all struggle. The sun will continue to rise regardless of whether we want to help ourselves or not. It’s up to us to see if we can get ourselves out of our own despair. We can shake off our own self-doubt to find the strength to move on. We’re capable. We need to believe that we can.” “I guess nothing is more wasteful than idle men, frozen to do nothing because they’re too afraid to try, huh?” “Exactly. Doubt and fear have killed more dreams than failure ever has.
N.A. Leigh (Mr. Hinkle's Verum Ink: the navy blue book (Mr. Hinkle's Verium Ink 1))
How can I help you make this better?” “You can’t,” he said, “because there’s nothing to make better. I have you. That’s all I need. I realized that during the past two weeks as I awaited their reply. When you finally handed me the envelope, I realized that I didn’t care what they had to say. I didn’t care whether they came or not. Either way, I was going to marry the love of my life and there was nothing my father could do to stop me.
N.A. Leigh (Mr. Hinkle's Verum Ink: the navy blue book (Mr. Hinkle's Verium Ink 1))
I don’t know if it’s the emotions of today that’s getting to me or if you’re there. Whatever it is, I want to let you know that you’ve made an impact on me and my life. More than you’ll ever know. And I know that ‘Thank you’ are two simple words but I don’t know what else to say. You’ve done so much for me and I don’t even know who you are or why you chose to protect me.
N.A. Leigh (Mr. Hinkle's Verum Ink: the navy blue book (Mr. Hinkle's Verium Ink 1))
One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.’ Paulo Coelho wrote that in The Alchemist. For the rest of our lives Arie, I want you to remember that I love you. There is no reason needed for why I love you. I love you. That’s it. And because there is no reason, there is nothing that you could do or say to take that love away or make that love fade.
N.A. Leigh (Mr. Hinkle's Verum Ink: the navy blue book (Mr. Hinkle's Verium Ink 1))
I wonder if the ground has anything to say?
We-ah Te-na-tee-ma-ny
Buckin’ is one ay Na Na’s favourite words likesay, along wi ‘pish’. Naebody says ‘pish’ like Na Na. She sortay drags oot the sssshhh, it’s likesay, ye kin see the steam rising oaf the yellay jet as it hits the white porcelain, ken?
Irvine Welsh (Trainspotting (Mark Renton, #2))
Suppose, in our time, the War actually comes. With no current refinements wasted, the elephantine blasts, fire storms, and fallout finish their appointed tasks. Several decades later the literary archaeologists from Tierra del Fuego and the Samoyedes rake loose from London's heaps part of a volume of literary criticism in which stand, entire, Yeats' lines 'My fiftieth year had come and gone'⁠—and the 'Second Coming,' with a few single lines quoted amid the unknown critic's comments. Then a gutted Pittsburgh mansion yields two charred anonymous sheets of a poem whose style⁠—what can be seen of it⁠—resembles Yeats. A fragmentary dictionary cites, as a rare alternate pronunciation of fanatic: "F⁠á-na-tic. Thus in W. B. Yeats' 'Remorse for Intemperate Speech'". There are similar further recoveries, equally scanty. So much for the poet whom T. S. Eliot has called the greatest of the twentieth century. But this has happened already, in time's glacial cataclysm, to the greatest lyric poet (so men say) of the West before the thirteenth century—to Sappho. And to Archilochos, whom some ancients paired with Homer. And to many others, the Herricks, Donne, and Herberts of Greece's first lyric flowering. For however much one may take it as unmerited grace that one at least has Homer, at least the iceburg tip of the fifth century and its epigones, one must still question the providence which allowed from the vastly different age between—the Lyric Age of the seventh and sixth centuries—only Pindar and the scraps for one other small book. That uniquely organic outgrowth of successive literary styles and forms in Greece—forms which are the ineluctable basis for most Western literature—is thus desperately mutilated for us in what seems to have been its most explosively diverse and luxuriant phase.
William E. McCulloh
Aloha,” Gray added, but it sounded way too forced, like when upper-middle class white people walk into a Mexican bakery and say, “Hola,” so he vowed to probably never say it again.
Clayton Smith (Na Akua)
Oisin had been carried away to the Land of Youth, under the western ocean. Both of them return to their mortal existence, and to Ireland, when Patrick is in the land, winning it from Crom Cruach to Christ. Patrick meets and converts each of them. They attach themselves to his company, and travel Ireland with him. When the Saint is wearied from much travelling and work, or, as often happens, from the perversity of the people he has to deal with, Oisin or Caoilte refresh and beguile him with many a sweet tale of the Fian — all of which, says the tradition, the pleased Patrick had his scribe Breogan write down and preserve for posterity. These tales make the Agallam na Seanorach. The
Seumas MacManus (The Story of the Irish Race: A Popular History of Ireland)
The first step in the mental training is to become the master of external things. He who is addicted to worldly pleasures, however learned or ignorant he may be, however high or low his social position may be, is a servant to mere things. He cannot adapt the external world to his own end, but he adapts himself to it. He is constantly employed, ordered, driven by sensual objects. Instead of taking possession of wealth, he is possessed by wealth. Instead of drinking liquors, he is swallowed up by his liquors. Balls and music bid him to run mad. Games and shows order him not to stay at home. Houses, furniture, pictures, watches, chains, hats, bonnets, rings, bracelets, shoes—in short, everything has a word to command him. How can such a person be the master of things? To Ju (Na-kae) says: "There is a great jail, not a jail for criminals, that contains the world in it. Fame, gain, pride, and bigotry form its four walls. Those who are confined in it fall a prey to sorrow and sigh for ever." To
Kaiten Nukariya (The Religion of the Samurai A Study of Zen Philosophy and Discipline in China and Japan)
argument na moją obronę, myślę: 'This is why I say McEnroe’s an idiot. I hesitate because it’s possible he was just trying to say something interesting – an unfashionable impulse, these days, and one to be treasured. You don’t want to slap down everyone who says something stupid in the heat of the moment, while trying to spice up a broadcast or interview, lest we hurtle even faster towards an entirely empty and monotonous public discourse'.
The Guardian
They say there is a fine line between love and hate. I once loved Kaleib like a brother, now I hated him with the same conviction.
Amanda Leigh (Scarred (Beauty of the Dark, #1))
The child bounded onto the bed, landing on all fours, her round face wreathed in a smile. “Hein nei nan-ne-i-cut?” “What is your name?” Hunter translated, tousling the imp’s hair as he hunkered beside the bed. “Loh-rhett-ah, eh? Tohobt Nabituh, Blue Eyes.” To Loretta, he said, “Warrior’s daughter, To-oh Hoos-cho, Blackbird.” Blackbird giggled and glanced at her grandmother, who stood watching from across the room. “Loh-rhett-ah!” Loretta scooted toward the head of the bed to press her back against the taut leather wall. The little girl followed, reaching out with a small brown hand to lightly touch the flounces on Loretta’s bloomers. Loretta stared at her. At last, a Comanche she didn’t detest on sight. She was tempted to grab hold of her and never let go. Loretta guessed her to be about three years old, possibly four. While Blackbird satisfied her curiosity about Loretta and examined her form head to toe, Hunter carried on an unintelligible conversation with his mother. From the gestures he made, Loretta guessed he was relating that his captive refused to eat or drink and that her voice had returned. A look of concern flashed across the older woman’s dark face. Hunter rose and thumped the heel of his hand against his forehead, rolling his eyes toward the smoke hole above the firepit. “Ai-ee!” Woman with Many Robes crossed the packed grass-and-dirt floor and leaned forward to peer at Loretta. After babbling shrilly for several seconds, all the while waving her spoon, she crooned, “Nei mi-pe mah-tao-yo,” and placed a gentle hand on Loretta’s hair. “My mother says the poor little one must have no fear.” Woman with Many Robes cast her son a suspicious glance. When it became apparent that he planned to say no more, she brandished her spoon at him. With great reluctance he cleared his throat, eyed the people crowding the doorway, and said, in a very low voice, “You will have no fear of me, eh? If I lift my hand against you, I will be a caum-mom-se, a bald head, and she will thump me with her spoon.” He hesitated and looked as if he found it difficult not to smile. “She will make the great na-ba-dah-kah, battle, with me. And in the end, she will win. She is one mean woman.
Catherine Anderson (Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1))
Ai-ee!” Woman with Many Robes crossed the packed grass-and-dirt floor and leaned forward to peer at Loretta. After babbling shrilly for several seconds, all the while waving her spoon, she crooned, “Nei mi-pe mah-tao-yo,” and placed a gentle hand on Loretta’s hair. “My mother says the poor little one must have no fear.” Woman with Many Robes cast her son a suspicious glance. When it became apparent that he planned to say no more, she brandished her spoon at him. With great reluctance he cleared his throat, eyed the people crowding the doorway, and said, in a very low voice, “You will have no fear of me, eh? If I lift my hand against you, I will be a caum-mom-se, a bald head, and she will thump me with her spoon.” He hesitated and looked as if he found it difficult not to smile. “She will make the great na-ba-dah-kah, battle, with me. And in the end, she will win. She is one mean woman.” Woman with Many Robes stroked Loretta’s hair and nodded, saying something more. She no sooner finished than Blackbird burst into giggles and rolled away from Loretta, planting a hand on her tummy. Whatever it was the woman had said, the child thought it hilarious. “You must eat,” Hunter translated. “And drink. Soon you will feel better, eh? And she will trade with the Comanchero for you a big spoon. If I ever again strike fear into your heart, you can do your own thumping.” Loretta concurred with Blackbird. She’d need much more than a spoon to do battle with Hunter.
Catherine Anderson (Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1))
But they say that people who aren't confident in themselves tend to be more flashy
Kanae Hazuki (好きっていいなよ。5 (Suki-tte ii na yo, #5))
What did he do?” I whipped around, startled. I had been so immersed in my own thoughts that I hadn’t even noticed Philantha standing into the doorway to one of the sitting rooms. “Pardon?” “Well, in my experience, it’s usually the man who bumbles about causing most of the problems in relationships of romance,” she said. “So, naturally, I assumed that your young man has done or said or thought something that caused you to come bursting in like a hurricane. Am I correct?” I shook my head so violently the braid coiled around my head threatened to come loose. “We’re not in a…relationship of romance. He’s just my friend.” Philantha made a sound surprisingly like a snicker. “Truly?” she asked. “I suppose that’s why he’s been with you most evenings.” “Like I said, we’re friends. And we haven’t seen each other in a long time.” She raised an eyebrow. “I may not care about it--or at least I didn’t, until recently--but I do hear some of the court gossip when I visit the college. The noble students, they bring it with them, you know. And one of the stories is how the Earl of Rithia and his wife are scrambling to find eligible matches for their son.” I felt suddenly dizzy for no reason, and a hot flush--disturbingly like the jealous feeling I had experienced at the inn--rushed through me. “Matches?” I repeated. “Girls, young women, marriageable prospects. Strange, how suddenly they started. Right after the princess came back, it’s been noted. As if they had had hope for another match before, and it was ruined.” “Me?” I asked. “People think Kiernan’s parents wanted him to marry me? That’s…ridiculous. Princesses don’t marry earls--a duke, maybe, but not an earl, not unless he’s foreign and brings some grand alliance. And besides, we’re just--” “Friends,” Philantha finished. “I know. That’s what you keep saying.” She eyed me, before saying, “They haven’t had much luck, though, from the gossip. He’s polite to everyone they trot out, but nothing more. But that’s neither here nor there, since you don’t love him.” I glared at her, my face and chest still filled with that rush of heat. “In fact, he’s made you angry, hasn’t he?” “He did. Well, I said…Yes, we fought. He says that Na--the princess--wants to see me. And I told him that he couldn’t bring her to me, that I didn’t want to see her. He said that if she asked, he would have to. But he’s wormed his way out of stickier situations than that. He could find a way to avoid it, if he wanted to.” “Then perhaps he doesn’t want to,” Philantha answered before gliding away up the stairs and out of sight. I had plenty of time to mull over Philantha’s words, because I didn’t see Kiernan for the next three days. It was the longest we had been parted since I returned to the city, and even through my anger at him it drove me to distraction. I mangled my spells even worse than usual, spilled ink, and tripped so frequently that Philantha threatened to call Kiernan to the house herself and turn him into a sparrow if we didn’t make up. Her eyes glinted dangerously when she said it, and only that was enough to force away a bit of my muddleheadedness.
Eilis O'Neal (The False Princess)
My precious things… are things I’ve made for myself.
Kanae Hazuki
You have worried, and though, have had painful memories, and learned about an unknown world… You have also cried a lot. To know people... is to know love
Kanae Hazuki (好きっていいなよ。3 (Suki-tte ii na yo, #3))
You go think say e don finish, But if determination dey, all na stages.
Dan Agbeje
And the word is corruptly made of two, for we should say, «Hoshiang-na», which is as much as to say, «Save I pray thee». Hosanna to the Son of David: Well is it to him that comes in the Name of the Lord, that is to say, whom the Lord has given us for our King. Blessed [is] he that cometh in the name of the Lord; Hosanna in the highest.
Anonymous (The Geneva Bible including the Marginal Notes of the Reformers. 1587 version.)
Dečko taj, čudni, začarani dečko taj vele da gdje je svijetu kraj, svijetu kraju otkri napokon. Pomalo plah, tužan na mah al' premudar bje on. There was a boy A very strange enchanted boy They say he wandered very far Very far Over land and sea A little shy and sad of eye But very wise was he
eden ahbez (Nature Boy)
If you already know the answer, why are you trying to make me say it?" "Because I'm a girl, and that's what we do.
Sara Ney (Things Liars Say (#ThreeLittleLies, #1))
Inhaling sharply, his grip on my door tightens. His deep yet hushed voice sounds pained as he says, “Nessa, do not make me reject you.” “Aengus, do not make me beg.
Naomi Kelly (Kalon: A Centaur Tail)