Paper Mario Quotes

...what is written on paper affects history. But not life. Life is a different history.

I always write a draft version of the novel in which I try to develop, not the story, not the plot, but the possibilities of the plot. I write without thinking much, trying to overcome all kinds of self-criticism, without stopping, without giving any consideration to the style or structure of the novel, only putting down on paper everything that can be used as raw material, very crude material for later development in the story.

His body and his soul appeared to have the strange ability to repel the hours, just as, inversely, a magnet attracts metal. Everything spun about him and fled; he was always the sole centre of an enormous circumference. He kept moving forwards, body and soul, in the hope of coming close to what fled at his approach. The same thing happened with time – his position remained constant in relation to the thing which, however hard he tried to clasp it to him, stole away from him and bounded into the distance. He was the one who had no incriminating papers in his drawers, who could show his diary to anyone. He was a creator. Perhaps that was why his life did not exist

He had learned never to disturb her when the keyboard was clacking. He left a quick note and slipped out. He grabbed the 6 train up to midtown and walked to the Kinney lot on 46th Street. Mario tossed him the keys without glancing up from his paper.

But a second later, she found books entering the trolley of their own will, as if commanded by a Hogwarts spell. Virginia Woolf, Iris Murdoch, Muriel Spark – the holy trio were some of the first to jump in. Milan Kundera followed Amitav Ghosh, Dostoevsky chased Mario Vargas Llosa in some kind of mad hatter’s literary tea party. Nick Hornby and Sue Townsend added some laughs. Darwin and Nietzsche kept the rest in check. Rumi’s loftiness, Calvino’s bizarreness, Arundhati’s Royness – things were getting along nicely when Fiza realized this had to end.

A woman stood by the first desk, a battered piece of furniture that looked donated from a thrift store. A paper taped to the desk had the words OPERATIONAL MANAGER marked through and replaced with, La Reña de Todo. The Queen of Everything.

You’ve got to make lists in life,’ Poldi advised me some weeks later. ‘Lists are magical--that’s because they develop a life of their own. Once you start one, it insists on being continued ad infinitum. You may cross out an item from time to time, but you’re never finished. A list is never complete, remember. One thing leads to another, and bingo--it contains items you’d never thought of before. And all because you started to write them down. That’s also the secret of writing in general: making a start, getting words down on paper. Just because it’s suddenly there in black and white on a sheet of paper, the written word develops genuine momentum. I tell you, lists are the mechanics of the subconscious

What is the Wii U, Gubben?" Farfar said, unable to keep the grin off his face as he balled the wrapping paper in his hands and stared at the box in his lap. "Don't we already have a Wii?" Then, more concerned, "How much did you spend on this?" "Not too much," I said, grinning back. "It's refurbished." "And old," Jorge added helpfully. "And old. Nintendo's already moved on to newer systems. Plus," I said, tossing a second present onto Farfar's lap and picking up his blue Wii remote from the coffee table, strumming the rubber bands holding the battery cover in place with my thumb. "This system's backward compatible." I watched Farfar peel back the paper one his unauthorized second present and nod to himself. He let out a sound like a deeply satisfied bear. "Oh, god," Maggie said, laughing. "Let's hook it up, Gubben." "They released a deluxe edition for the newer system," I explained, leading to our lengthy, highly technical discussion of Mario Kart 8 for Wii U vs. 8 Deluxe for the Switch, while I hooked up the new system to the TV

There was a special report that night about a violent clash. Mario might have seen it on the neighbor's TV. As he heard voices and movement on the other side of the wall, he would've seen images of his house on the screen. There were police an armed agents walking the halls. On the dining room table where he'd eaten lunch a few hours ago, with the orange-flowered tablecloth, there were papers, lots of fake IDs, and a serious pile of weapons he'd never seen before. Grenades, ammunition, machine guns, pistols. If there had been a gun in the house, we would have used it to defend ourselves, thought Mario. Reporting live with a microphone in his hand, the announcer gestured at the weapons and documents, announcing that security forces had killed two dangerous terrorists in a deadly face-off.

Mario García Menocal was born on December 17, 1866, in the town of Jagüey, located southeast of Havana in the Matanzas Province of Cuba. As a young man, he was a partisan in Cuba's fight for independence and he later became a prominent conservative politician. Menocal was elected to the presidency of Cuba in 1912 and assumed the office in 1913. During his administration, he strongly supported business and corporations, as he had promised in his platform. While in office, Cuba also established its own currency, but the United States dollar continued to be the only paper money in circulation on the island until 1934. During his second term as president of Cuba, the United States entered into World War I. During the war, due in part to his close ties to the United States and the escalating prices of sugar, Cuba experienced an economic resurgence. However, once the war ended, the sugar market plunged and the country slid into a severe recession. While in office, García Menoca, a graduate of Cornell University, hosted the 1920 Delta Kappa Epsilon National Convention in Havana. When his presidency ended on May 20, 1921, Menocal unsuccessfully attempted to remain in politics. He died in Santiago de Cuba on September 7, 1941.