Ri Quotes

It's getting to be ri-goddamn-diculous.

Leop­ards break in­to the tem­ple and drink all the sac­ri­fi­cial ves­sels dry; it keeps hap­pen­ing; in the end, it can be cal­cu­lat­ed in ad­vance and is in­cor­po­rat­ed in­to the rit­ual.

Ascente cha ores ri ve breazza." "Turn your ear to the wind," she interpreted. "Stand strong.

The first thing that caught her eye was the three words Aonaibh Ri Chéile. The words burned her soul like a brand. Quietly she said to Audun, “Please take that thing back to where you got it. I can’t bear the sight of it.

I told them he'd be able to get you to go out." Rianne folded her winnings and tucked the bills into her blazer pocket. "Look at him." "He's right here, Ri," Carla murmured, shooting Keenan an apologetic look. "We've tried to teach her manners, but..." She shrugged. "It's like housebreaking a dog. If we'd had her when she was a puppy, maybe." Rianne smacked her on the arm, but she was grinning. "Woof, woof.

Bi oju ri enu a pamo. Not everything the eye sees should be spoken by the mouth.

At the end of one of the bookshelves she picked up a very old book. It was truly ancient, and woven into the cover was a motif of joined hands which merged into three words: Aonaibh Ri Chéile. The dedication on the inside cover was simply “To Elbeth with Love.” The author was someone called Angus Ferguson

Elbeth and Angus embraced and stepped back to exchange the rings. As the two lovers grasped each other’s right hands the rings shone with white intensity, dimmed and then reappeared on each of their left hands. Between their right hands a silver quaich appeared with the Cameron motto shining brightly: Aonaibh Ri Chéile – let us unite – and united they were. But then, as the couple lifted the ancient wedding cup to their lips, Munro once again heard Ala Moire’s voice from beyond the grave, and this time it carried a warning. “To your right Alastair, evil stalks here in the shadows!” Robert Reid – White Light Red Fire

I would like to request that the Elder join us for celebrations in Aldene. I have a daughter who needs a husband, and I think I know the man she will choose.” Alastair Munro smiled. He could see the words Aonaibh Ri Chéile shining brightly from the new Elder’s ring.

Momiji Sohma: Are you sure? Shigure said it hurt really bad. Hatori Sohma: Yes, well, I did that on purpose. Shigure Sohma: Oh, Ha'ri, you're killing me! Why would you be so cruel? Hatori Sohma: It seemed to be the only way to shut you up at the time.

A vida é mais vida para quem se ri da morte do que para quem a teme.

Call me the voice of ex­pe­ri­ence.

J..es…u..s fu…ck..in.g Ch..ri…st Liam!” The bed slammed against the wall.

and as they walked along he sang "Tol-de-ri-de-oh!" at every step, he felt so gay.

Há quem confunda a alegria com a felicidade. A alegria não se parece com a felicidade, a não ser na medida em que um mar agitado se parece com um mar plácido. A água é a mesma, apenas isso. A alegria resulta de um entorpecimento do espírito, a felicidade de uma iluminação momentânea. O álcool pode levar-nos à alegria - ou um cigarro de liamba, ou um novo amor - porque nos obscurece temporariamente a inteligência. A alegria pode, pois, ser burra. A felicidade é outra coisa. Não ri às gargalhadas. Não se anuncia com fogo de artifício. Não faz estremecer estádios. Raras são as vezes em que nos apercebemos da felicidade no instante em que somos felizes.

Lagrimas ocultas Lagrimas ocultas Se me ponho a cismar em outras eras Em que ri e cantei, em que era q'rida, Parece-me que foi noutras esferas, Parece-me que foi numa outra vida... E a minha triste boca dolorida Que dantes tinha o rir das Primaveras, Esbate as linhas graves e severas E cai num abandono de esquecida! E fico, pensativa, olhando o vago... Toma a brandura plácida dum lago O meu rosto de monja de marfim... E as lágrimas que choro, branca e calma, Ninguém as vê brotar dentro da alma! Ninguém as vê cair dentro de mim!

Missing you is the hardest part of my day.

kUrApIkA iS nOw DrOwNinG iN An InDeScRiBaBlE emPtInEsS...

Har­ri­son had start­ed out wor­ried that Cor­rie would shoot Mary Rose be­cause the wom­an was as crazy as ev­ery­one said she was, but by the time the one-​sid­ed con­ver­sa­tion was fin­ished, his con­cern had changed. Now he couldn't fig­ure out why Cor­rie didn't shoot her just to shut her up.

Dengan arungi lautan luas nusantara, generasi kita miliki karakter bangsa bahari yang tangguh, warisan nenek moyang.

Definisi negara federal yang paling tepat adalah Bhinneka Tunggal Ika. Justru demi ke-Tunggal-an RI itulah ke-Bhinneka-an federal dalam abad ke-21 harus dibentuk.

Não é a lua que lá vai macilenta: é o relâmpago que passa e ri de escárnio às agonias do povo que morrem aos soluços que seguem as mortualhas do cólera.

Dhe artisti i ri shkon drejt artit siç shkohet drejt mëkatit.

You’re thinking about her breasts now, aren’t you? Ziv’ri asked. Ava grinned. Yes, he is, she answered telepathically. Jak’ri gasped. Oh ho! Ziv’ri crowed on a laugh. You’ve made my brother blush, Ava. I haven’t seen his face this red since Mother caught him— Do not finish that sentence! Jak’ri ordered.

They offered to sedate you? Jak’ri asked. Yes. I refused, she said. No way am I waking up with some freaky lizard baby in my belly. He stared at his brother. What kind of experiments do you think they’re performing, Ava? I don’t know. But a hell of a lot of alien abduction stories told on Earth seem to revolve around aliens impregnating our women and probing men’s butts. Ziv’ri gaped. What the srul kind of aliens have been visiting your planet?

The doctors in Songnam-ri had to be farmers, too. They cultivated medicinal plants, and actually grew their own cotton to have a supply of bandages and dressings.

Kritik itu laksana obat. Ketika obat itu benar, sesuai jenis penyakit, dan dosisnya tepat, itu membuat sehat.

Jika terlalu melihat kekurangan orang lain, jangan-jangan kita tidak melihat kekurangan sendiri. Mungkin lebih banyak.

Penyakit politisi: ketika tidak menjabat mengkritik habis-habisan, tetapi ketika menjabat tidak melaksanakan apa yg dikritiknya.

Kalau kita keras terhadap diri kita, dunia akan lunak kepada kita, tapi bila kita lemah terhadap diri kita, dunia akan keras kepada kita.

Peut-être que vous étiez allongé au lit, presque sur le point de vous endormir, et vous avez ri de quelque chose, une plaisanterie toute personnelle, une bonne façon de finir la journée. C'est ça, mon nom.

There’s a ter­ri­ble dark joy when the on­ly per­son who knows all your se­crets is fi­nal­ly dead. Your par­ents. Your doc­tor. Your ther­apist. Your case­work­er. The sun’s out­side the bath­room win­dow try­ing to show us we’re all be­ing stupid. All you have to do is look around.

Amare è solo una forma di "ri-conoscimento", nella vita riconosciamo ciò che abbiamo già letto, o perché ci è stato narrato o perché quella narrazione ce l'abbiamo dentro di noi. Amore non è altro che riconoscenza, ci precede sempre, come le gemme precedono la primavera. Il primo sguardo non è altro che l'ultimo e il più compiuto, poi si tratta di esserne all'altezza con il passare del tempo.

Shall I be car-ri-ed toe the skies, on flow’ry beds of ease, Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro’ blood-y seas? He

Shall I be car-ri-ed toe the skies, on flow’ry beds of ease, Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro’ blood-y

Ri sempre de maneira que alguém fique, sem saberes, a chorar dentro de ti. Porque se o riso permanece, o que encontra dentro de ti é o idiota que lá estava à sua espera.

Ri-,Riley's going to kill us all, and if I'm going to die, it'll be fighting for my freedom, not because you're too cowardly to.

A guerra é a forma de Deus en­si­nar ge­o­grafia aos ame­ri­ca­nos.

Tu vois, Wendy, quand le premier bébé a ri pour la première fois, son rire s'est brisé en mille morceaux qui se sont tous mis à sauter de-ci de-là. Ce fut le début des fées.

Ciri penting demokrasi yang baik adalah adanya kebebasan (freedom) & kepatuhan pada hukum (rule of law).

Tidak pernah ada jalan yang mudah dan lunak untuk mencapai cita-cita yang besar. Mari terus berjuang dan bekerja keras

Rendah hati baik. Tapi jangan rendah diri. Kita harus tampil dan melakukan sesuatu yang nyata.

Tidak pernah ada hari yang sama dalam kehidupan kita. Hari ini beda dengan kemarin. Mari kita jadikan hari ini lebih baik.

Musuh besar kita adlh "politik uang" (money politics). Mari kita bersatu utk memberantasnya

Kita bersyukur masyarakat Indonesia kini bebas berekspresi. Protes & kritik wajar, selama tidak memfitnah & merusak.

Kesetiakawanan adalah ketika yang kuat bantu yang lemah, yang kaya bantu yang miskin. Tidak makmur sendiri2.

Dengan segala kekurangan yang dimiliki, saya akan tetap gigih berjuang untuk kebaikan negeri ini. Mohon doa restu rakyat Indonesia

Orang tua punya tanggung jawab membentuk kepribadian anak, termasuk nilai, etika, dan perilakunya.

Kebahagiaan itu sederhana, sujud syukurlah 5 menit sehari atas apa yang kita peroleh.

Kompetisi global tidak bisa dihindari. Untuk menghadapinya, perlu cara berpikir yang cerdas agar siap berkompetisi.

Kita bangun manusia yg miliki karakter, bukan sekedar kuasai ilmu pengetahuan, tapi jg tangguh kepribadiannya & berbudi luhur

Chapeaux bas ! chapeaux bas ! criaient mille bouches ensemble. —Comme pour le roi. Alors j’ai ri horriblement aussi, moi, et j’ai dit au prêtre : ― Eux les chapeaux, moi la tête.

Ava motioned to the darkening passage that led from the cave. “This is the first time I’ve set foot on an alien planet. And even though it bears a general similarity to Earth, there are enough differences to make me want to walk around like this all the time.” Widening her eyes, she dropped her jaw until her mouth formed a large O and gaped at the walls around them in exaggerated amazement. Jak’ri laughed. “I’m serious,” she insisted with a grin. “I saw a butterfly today that was the size of a duck!

The army and SwRI researchers, ever optimistic and open-minded, had already been there and tried that. Cats didn’t care to communicate with the researchers about whether bombs were close by. “Cats were excluded from the final programs because of their demonstrated refusal to cooperate consistently in joint ventures with man.

Nunca, porém, o tinham amado pelo que ele era, menino abandonado, aleijado e triste. Muita gente o tinha odiado. E ele odiara a todos. Apanhara na polícia, um homem ria quando o surravam. Para ele é este homem que corre em sua perseguição na figura dos guardas. Se o levarem, o homem rirá de novo. Não o levarão. Vêm em seus calcanhares, mas não o levarão. Pensam que ele vai parar junto ao grande elevador. Mas Sem-Pernas não para. Sobe para o pequeno muro, volve o rosto para os guardas que ainda correm, ri com toda a força do seu ódio, cospe na cara de um que se aproxima estendendo os braços, se atira de costas no espaço como se fosse um trapezista de circo.

The dogs went crazy last night,” Gennie said. “Do you want me to tell you about it?” “Definitely,” Grace replied. “Start at the beginning. Leave nothing out. What are the dogs’ names?” “Bernie Sanders, Elliot Stabler, Olivia Benson, Sandra Day O’Connor, and RuPaul were the troublemakers,” Gennie said. “Unsurprising, with that group,” Grace said. “Go on.

Speech is silver. Silence is golden.

Tidak pernah ada kebijakan yang bisa memuaskan semua pihak. Tetapi, kita harus memilihnya. Kita pilih yang paling tepat.

Tidak perlu gentar hadapi masa depan jika kita tetap menjaga idealisme, berbuat yang terbaik dan selalu dekat dengan Tuhan.

Keharuman nama baik kita, ada pada tekad dan semangat baja kita untuk menjadi yang terbaik.

رب همة رفعت أمة

Orang bijak berpesan: "Jika tidak bisa membantu, jangan mengganggu.

Kushdo qofte, edhe njeriu i vogel, nga ata qe nuk e turbullojne ujin, qe askujt s'i bien me qafe, qe rrojne me friken e perendise, por edhe me friken per veten, shkojne me mendjen te mos ngacmojne njeri se keshtu as ate vete nuk do ta ngacmojne, do ta lene te qete ne hallet e tij, nuk deshiron qe te tjeret te futin hundet ne jeten e perditshme qe ben, nuk ia ka enda te flasin ne e ka te ri apo te vjeter jelekun, ne i ka te reja apo me mballoma çizmet, nuk ia ka enda te marrin vesh te tjeret ç'eshte duke ngrene, çfare po shkruan?... E ç'te keqe paska, moj zemer, qe une, kur shoh xhadene te prishur, eci ne maje te gishtave, shkel me kujdes per te ruajtur çizmet? Pse duhet shkruar per tjetrin qe ndonjehere nuk ka para as per te pire nje gote çaj? Sikur qenka e thene dhe e vulosur qe njerezit, te gjithe sa jane, patjeter duhet te pine çaj. Po pse e udhes qenka te shohesh ne gojen e tjetrit per te ditur ç'cope eshte duke pertypur? A fyhet njeriu keshtu? Jo, shpirti im! Perse u dashka fyer tjetri kur ai s'te ngacmon?

E, enquanto uma chora, outra ri; é a lei do mundo, meu rico senhor; é a perfeição universal. Tudo chorando seria monótono, tudo rindo cansativo; mas uma boa distribuição de lágrimas e polcas, soluços e sarabandas, acaba por trazer à alma do mundo a variedade necessária, e faz-se o equilíbrio da vida.

Rea­sons Why I Loved Be­ing With Jen I love what a good friend you are. You’re re­ally en­gaged with the lives of the peo­ple you love. You or­ga­nize lovely ex­pe­ri­ences for them. You make an ef­fort with them, you’re pa­tient with them, even when they’re side­tracked by their chil­dren and can’t pri­or­i­tize you in the way you pri­or­i­tize them. You’ve got a gen­er­ous heart and it ex­tends to peo­ple you’ve never even met, whereas I think that ev­ery­one is out to get me. I used to say you were naive, but re­ally I was jeal­ous that you al­ways thought the best of peo­ple. You are a bit too anx­ious about be­ing seen to be a good per­son and you def­i­nitely go a bit over­board with your left-wing pol­i­tics to prove a point to ev­ery­one. But I know you re­ally do care. I know you’d sign pe­ti­tions and help peo­ple in need and vol­un­teer at the home­less shel­ter at Christ­mas even if no one knew about it. And that’s more than can be said for a lot of us. I love how quickly you read books and how ab­sorbed you get in a good story. I love watch­ing you lie on the sofa read­ing one from cover-to-cover. It’s like I’m in the room with you but you’re in a whole other gal­axy. I love that you’re al­ways try­ing to im­prove your­self. Whether it’s running marathons or set­ting your­self chal­lenges on an app to learn French or the fact you go to ther­apy ev­ery week. You work hard to be­come a bet­ter ver­sion of your­self. I think I prob­a­bly didn’t make my ad­mi­ra­tion for this known and in­stead it came off as ir­ri­ta­tion, which I don’t re­ally feel at all. I love how ded­i­cated you are to your fam­ily, even when they’re an­noy­ing you. Your loy­alty to them wound me up some­times, but it’s only be­cause I wish I came from a big fam­ily. I love that you al­ways know what to say in con­ver­sa­tion. You ask the right ques­tions and you know ex­actly when to talk and when to lis­ten. Ev­ery­one loves talk­ing to you be­cause you make ev­ery­one feel im­por­tant. I love your style. I know you think I prob­a­bly never no­ticed what you were wear­ing or how you did your hair, but I loved see­ing how you get ready, sit­ting in front of the full-length mir­ror in our bed­room while you did your make-up, even though there was a mir­ror on the dress­ing ta­ble. I love that you’re mad enough to swim in the English sea in No­vem­ber and that you’d pick up spi­ders in the bath with your bare hands. You’re brave in a way that I’m not. I love how free you are. You’re a very free per­son, and I never gave you the sat­is­fac­tion of say­ing it, which I should have done. No one knows it about you be­cause of your bor­ing, high-pres­sure job and your stuffy up­bring­ing, but I know what an ad­ven­turer you are un­der­neath all that. I love that you got drunk at Jack­son’s chris­ten­ing and you al­ways wanted to have one more drink at the pub and you never com­plained about get­ting up early to go to work with a hang­over. Other than Avi, you are the per­son I’ve had the most fun with in my life. And even though I gave you a hard time for al­ways try­ing to for al­ways try­ing to im­press your dad, I ac­tu­ally found it very adorable be­cause it made me see the child in you and the teenager in you, and if I could time-travel to any­where in his­tory, I swear, Jen, the only place I’d want to go is to the house where you grew up and hug you and tell you how beau­ti­ful and clever and funny you are. That you are spec­tac­u­lar even with­out all your sports trophies and mu­sic cer­tifi­cates and in­cred­i­ble grades and Ox­ford ac­cep­tance. I’m sorry that I loved you so much more than I liked my­self, that must have been a lot to carry. I’m sorry I didn’t take care of you the way you took care of me. And I’m sorry I didn’t take care of my­self, ei­ther. I need to work on it. I’m pleased that our break-up taught me that. I’m sorry I went so mental. I love you. I always will. I'm glad we met.

We won’t let them take us,” he vowed. Ava cupped his face in her hands. “I love you, Jak’ri.” Dipping his head, he brushed his lips against hers in a tender caress. “I love you, too. More with every breath I take.” Desire flared to life as she drew him down for another kiss, this one deeper, hotter, and pulse-poundingly arousing. “Make me forget,” she pleaded, between teasing strokes of her tongue. “Make me forget everything but us and the way I feel when I’m in your arms.

In contrast to advice, our UN-VICE is not a suggestion of behavior or a mandate. Instead, our UN-VICE is a way to decipher changing circumstances imaginatively. All advice should be carefully considered, combined with an emphasis on developing and trusting our own capabilities. In our increasingly UN-VICE world, the value of recommendations is rapidly decreasing. Systemic disruption has devalued ad-vice; instead, we offer our best UN-VICE. Inspired by Richard Feynman, we must explore unanswered questions, rather than adhering to unquestionable answers. Zen Master Suzuki Roshi said “In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s there are few.” Our UN-VICE draws from the three stages of the Japanese martial arts concept shuhari. In the first stage, shu, the student masters the established fundamentals. In the second stage, ha, the learner practices and experiments with novel approaches, guided by their own unique perspectives. In the third stage, ri, they break loose from confining rulebooks to adapt freely to any situation. Shuhari is a journey, a continuous process of learning, experimenting, and letting go.

I hate to sound like an old man, but why are these people famous? What qualities do they possess that endear them to the wider world? We may at once eliminate talent, intelligence, attractiveness, and charm from the equation, so what does that leave? Dainty feet? Fresh, minty breath? I am at a loss to say. Anatomically, many of them don’t even seem quite human. Many have names that suggest they have reached us from a distant galaxy: Ri-Ri, Tulisa, Naya, Jai, K-Pez, Chlamydia, Mo-Ron. (I may be imagining some of these.) As I read the magazine, I kept hearing a voice in my head, like the voice from a 1950s B-movie trailer, saying: “They came from Planet Imbecile!

Il peggio nella vita di una donna: il primo uomo. Si muore soltanto di quello, dopo di che la vita coniugale- o la sua contrffazione- diventa una carriera. Una carriera, burocratica a volte, da cui nulla ci distrae nè ci solleva tranne il gioco di equilibri che, a tempo debito, spinge il vecchio verso la giovincella e Chè ri verso Lèa.

Jane started say­ing ‘Wel­come to be­ing in a re­la­tion­ship’ to me over and over again. I’d tell her about all the com­pro­mises I was mak­ing and how much Andy’s self-ab­sorp­tion could ir­ri­tate me and how I’d no­ticed that he’d stopped find­ing me sexy and started find­ing me sweet – that he used to grab my bum and kiss me, and now he kissed me on the head and pulled the zip­per of my jacket up and down in a cutesy way. ‘Wait till he stops find­ing you sweet,’ she said. ‘That’s a whole other phase.’ I told her about how much time was spent com­fort­ing him and buoy­ing him up and get­ting him out of low moods. How his emo­tions were al­ways more im­por­tant than mine – that when we had arguments, his feel­ings were dis­cussed as facts and mine were in­ter­ro­gated as fab­ri­ca­tions. ‘Jen,’ she said mat­ter-of-factly, ‘do you even want a boyfriend?’ I asked her if this was all stuff she put up with and she nod­ded. ‘Wel­come to be­ing in a re­la­tion­ship,’ she said. And I thought: I don’t want to be wel­come here. I don’t want to get com­fort­able here.

Transformasi bukanlah proses yang mudah. Kompleks dan penuh tantangan. Tapi kita tidak menyerah dan berhasil.

Manusia cenderung menolak ide, pikiran & langkah baru. Apalagi kalau merasa sudah mapan. Inilah resistensi thdp perubahan.

Negara kita luas, karenanya kita perlu memiliki kekuatan militer yang handal, siap & terlatih utk mempertahankannya.

Ada yang bilang berpolitik itu tidak perlu baik, yang penting menang. Padahal, dengan berpolitik yang baik kita tetap bisa menang.

Keputusan & kebijakan apapun tidak akan pernah memuaskan semua pihak. Jika niat, tujuan dan konsepnya baik, lakukan saja.

Nikmati masa muda dgn baca buku, olahraga & berteman. Masa muda sangat menyenangkan sekaligus tidak bisa diulang.

Melakukan sesuatu dgn tujuan baik, itikad baik dan hati yg bersih. Itulah politik yang berakhlak!

Alam akan baik pada kita jika kita pelihara kebersihan dan keindahan. Sayangi tanaman, pepohonan, alam dan makhluk hidup.

Hanya dengan berpikir besar dan berkarya besar, sungguh Indonesia suatu saat menjadi bangsa yang unggul dalam peradaban dunia.

Nothing is small when you magnify it by eternity.

Jak’ri stared at her. “There are no Gathendiens on Purvel, Ava.” The Lasarans and their Aldebarian Alliance allies had decimated the Gathendien military and driven whatever remained to the outer reaches of the galaxy a long time ago. His heart clenched when a tear spilled over her lashes and trailed down one cheek. Her throat worked in a swallow. “That’s why I don’t think I’m on Purvel.” Jak’ri just stared at her, uncomprehending. She motioned to the vast blue ocean beyond the cliff. “I don’t think this is real.” Another tear slipped down her cheek. “And I really want this to be real, Jak’ri.” Easing forward, she slid her arms around him, pressed her face to his neck, and hugged him tight. “I wish this were real,” she said brokenly. “I wish you were real.” Sliding an arm around her, he cradled her close as he kept them afloat. “I am real, Ava. I’m right here, holding you.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “It’ll be all right. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.” Squeezing him tighter, she whispered, “I wish this were real.” And the despair in her sweet voice made him want to weep, too.

Shkodra në mëngjese Kendojnë bashkë në mengjese pesë kumbonare, kendojnë në ajri mbi Shkoder ende fjetë: mbi Maranaj qet vetllen kureshtare agimi e hjedh në liqe synin e qetë. Perhapë lajmin e zgjimit rrezja e parë të parat përshëndetje dridhen në heshti të letë, e shpejt në at lavdi dielli, qi e veshë fare Shkodra kumbon me zane, zhurmë e jetë. E ai diell prendvere i ri shprazet në shtepija udha e lulishta tue ngjallë ngjyra e shkendija, tue mbshtjellë gjithshka si nji tis ari, i hollë: skaj në skaj si lum gzimi tue rreshqitë në syt e vashave, qeshë, e mbush me dritë kaçurrelat e tyne kur shkojnë në shkollë.

Querendo ou não, iremos todos envelhecer. As pernas irão pesar, a coluna doer, o colesterol aumentar. A imagem no espelho irá se alterar gradativamente e perderemos estatura, lábios e cabelos. A boa notícia é que a alma pode permanecer com o humor dos dez, o viço dos vinte e o erotismo dos trinta anos. Erótica é a alma que se diverte, que se perdoa, que ri de si mesma e faz as pazes com sua história. Que usa a espontaneidade pra ser sensual, que se despe de preconceitos, intolerâncias, desafetos. Erótica é a alma que aceita a passagem do tempo com leveza e conserva o bom humor apesar dos vincos em torno dos olhos e o código de barras acima dos lábios; erótica é a alma que não esconde seus defeitos, que não se culpa pela passagem do tempo. Erótica é a alma que aceita suas dores, atravessa seu deserto e ama sem pudores. #BOMDIA!!!! ["Erótica é a alma", por Fabíola Simões- blog "A soma de todos os afetos"]

E, de súbito, tem medo de que nesta casa sejam bons para ele. Sim, um grande medo de que sejam bons para ele. Não sabe mesmo por quê, mas tem medo. E levanta-se, sai do seu esconderijo e vai fumar bem por baixo da janela da senhora. Assim verão que ele é um menino perdido, que não merece um quarto, roupa nova, comida na sala de jantar. Assim o mandarão para a cozinha, ele poderá levar para diante sua obra de vingança, conservar o ódio no seu coração. Porque se esse ódio desaparecer, ele morrerá, não terá nenhum motivo para viver. E diante dos seus olhos passa a visão do homem de colete que vê os soldados a espancar o Sem-Pernas e ri numa gargalhada brutal. Isso há de impedir sempre o Sem-Pernas de ver o rosto bondoso de dona Ester, o gesto protetor das mãos do padre José Pedro, a solidariedade dos músculos grevistas do estivador João de Adão. Será sozinho e seu ódio alcança a todos, brancos e negros, homens e mulheres, ricos e pobres. Por isso teme que sejam bons para consigo.

Ri, here's a question for you,” Stella started. She opened it up to everyone else, as well. “When do your kids stop being pets and start being people?” The room went silent, except for Gloria trying to stifle her giggles. Stella looked around and felt pleased that she'd gotten the desired reaction. “What are you talking about? How could you call children pets?” Shannon demanded before Bernadette had the chance to. “No, this is an honest question.” Stella insisted. “You have them, you name them. They're helpless, and you teach, or train, them. Feed them, water them, whatever. And as they grow up, you just hope that they grow up well and don't spend their time clawing your nice sofa or humping your leg." Stella, "Sugar and Spies: Spy Sisters Book 1

Ten thousand years ago, her husband, Abraham the Mage, had presented her with the weapons and armor. “To keep you safe,” he said, his speech a slurred mumble. “Now and always. When you wear it, think of me.” “I’ll think of you even when I’m not wearing it,” she promised, and never a day went by when she did not think of the man who had worked so hard and sacrificed so much to make and save the world. The memory of him was vivid. Abraham stood tall and slender in a darkened room at the top of the crystal tower, the Tor Ri. He was wrapped in shadow, turned away from her so she wouldn’t see the Change that had almost completely claimed his flesh, transforming it to solid gold. She remembered turning him to the light so she could look at him for what she knew might be the very last time. Then she had held him, pressing his flesh and metal against her skin, and wept against his shoulder. And when she looked into his face, a single tear, a solid bead of gold, rolled down his cheek. Rising up on her toes, she had kissed the tear off his face, swallowing it. Tsagaglalal pressed her hands to her stomach. It nestled within her still.

You keep saying you instead of we.” Jak’ri closed the incinerator. A whoosh sounded. “I’m not coming with you.” She stared up at him. “What?” “I’m staying here. Keep me apprised of everything telepathically as you go. If you run into any trouble, I’ll start blasting things in here, then run and draw their fire.” “Oh, hell no!” she blurted. “We leave together or we don’t leave at all.” “Ava, you have a much higher chance of escaping if I keep them distracted long enough to—” Closing the distance between them, she rose onto her toes, curled her free hand around the nape of his neck, and pressed a fervent kiss to his lips. Startled into silence, he stared down at her. “I’m not going without you, Jak’ri. I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me. We either escape together or we die together. Those are your two options. Time is ticking. What’s it going to be?

Ce matin, Marie est restée et je lui ai dit que nous déjeunerions ensemble. Je suis descendu pour acheter de la viande. En remontant, j'ai entendu une voix de femme dans la chambre de Raymond. Un peu après, le vieux Salamano a grondé son chien, nous avons entendu un bruit de semelles et de griffes sur les marches en bois de l'escalier et puis : « Salaud, charogne », ils sont sortis dans la rue. J'ai raconté à Marie l'histoire du vieux et elle a ri. Elle avait un de mes pyjamas dont elle avait retroussé les manches. Quand elle a ri, j'ai eu encore envie d'elle. Un moment après, elle m'a demandé si je l'aimais. Je lui ai ré-pondu que cela ne voulait rien dire, mais qu'il me semblait que non. Elle a eu l'air triste. Mais en préparant le déjeuner, et à propos de rien, elle a encore ri de telle façon que je l'ai embrassée. C'est à ce moment que les bruits d'une dispute ont éclaté chez Raymond.

J'ai ri. Il a secoué la tête et m'a regardée. - Quoi ? Ai-je demandé. - Rien, a t-il répondu. - Pourquoi tu me regardes comme ça ? Augustus a eu un petit sourire. - Parce-que tu es belle. J'aime regarder les gens beaux et, depuis un certain temps, j'ai décidé de ne me refuser aucun petit plaisir de la vie. D'autant plus que, comme tu l'as délicieusement fait remarquer, tout ceci tombera dans l'oubli. - Je ne suis pas bel... - Tu es belle comme mille Natalie Portman. Natalie Portman dans V pour Vendetta. (...) - Ah bon ? S'est-il étonné. Fille sublime, cheveux courts, déteste l'autorité et ne peut s'empêcher de craquer pour le garçon qui ne lui apportera que des ennuies. Ta bio, en somme.

She was the first close friend who I felt like I’d re­ally cho­sen. We weren’t in each other’s lives be­cause of any obli­ga­tion to the past or con­ve­nience of the present. We had no shared his­tory and we had no rea­son to spend all our time to­ gether. But we did. Our friend­ship in­ten­si­fied as all our friends had chil­dren – she, like me, was un­con­vinced about hav­ing kids. And she, like me, found her­self in a re­la­tion­ship in her early thir­ties where they weren’t specif­i­cally work­ing to­wards start­ing a fam­ily. By the time I was thirty-four, Sarah was my only good friend who hadn’t had a baby. Ev­ery time there was an­other preg­nancy an­nounce­ment from a friend, I’d just text the words ‘And an­other one!’ and she’d know what I meant. She be­came the per­son I spent most of my free time with other than Andy, be­cause she was the only friend who had any free time. She could meet me for a drink with­out plan­ning it a month in ad­vance. Our friend­ship made me feel lib­er­ated as well as safe. I looked at her life choices with no sym­pa­thy or con­cern for her. If I could ad­mire her de­ci­sion to re­main child-free, I felt en­cour­aged to ad­mire my own. She made me feel nor­mal. As long as I had our friend­ship, I wasn’t alone and I had rea­son to be­lieve I was on the right track. We ar­ranged to meet for din­ner in Soho af­ter work on a Fri­day. The waiter took our drinks or­der and I asked for our usual – two Dirty Vodka Mar­ti­nis. ‘Er, not for me,’ she said. ‘A sparkling wa­ter, thank you.’ I was ready to make a joke about her un­char­ac­ter­is­tic ab­sti­nence, which she sensed, so as soon as the waiter left she said: ‘I’m preg­nant.’ I didn’t know what to say. I can’t imag­ine the ex­pres­sion on my face was par­tic­u­larly en­thu­si­as­tic, but I couldn’t help it – I was shocked and felt an un­war­ranted but in­tense sense of be­trayal. In a de­layed re­ac­tion, I stood up and went to her side of the ta­ble to hug her, un­able to find words of con­grat­u­la­tions. I asked what had made her change her mind and she spoke in va­garies about it ‘just be­ing the right time’ and wouldn’t elab­o­rate any fur­ther and give me an an­swer. And I needed an an­swer. I needed an an­swer more than any­thing that night. I needed to know whether she’d had a re­al­iza­tion that I hadn’t and, if so, I wanted to know how to get it. When I woke up the next day, I re­al­ized the feel­ing I was ex­pe­ri­enc­ing was not anger or jeal­ousy or bit­ter­ness – it was grief. I had no one left. They’d all gone. Of course, they hadn’t re­ally gone, they were still my friends and I still loved them. But huge parts of them had dis­ap­peared and there was noth­ing they could do to change that. Un­less I joined them in their spa­ces, on their sched­ules, with their fam­i­lies, I would barely see them. And I started dream­ing of an­other life, one com­pletely re­moved from all of it. No more chil­dren’s birth­day par­ties, no more chris­ten­ings, no more bar­be­cues in the sub­urbs. A life I hadn’t ever se­ri­ously con­tem­plated be­fore. I started dream­ing of what it would be like to start all over again. Be­cause as long as I was here in the only Lon­don I knew – mid­dle-class Lon­don, cor­po­rate Lon­don, mid-thir­ties Lon­don, mar­ried Lon­don – I was in their world. And I knew there was a whole other world out there.

J’ai arpenté les galeries sans fin des grandes bibliothèque, les rues de cette ville qui fût la nôtre, celle où nous partagions presque tous nos souvenirs depuis l’enfance. Hier, j’ai marché le long des quais, sur les pavés du marché à ciel ouvert que tu aimais tant. Je me suis arrêté par-ci par-là, il me semblait que tu m’accompagnais, et puis je suis revenu dans ce petit bar près du port, comme chaque vendredi. Te souviendras-tu ? Je ne sais pas où tu es. Je ne sais pas si tout ce que nous avons vécu avait un sens, si la vérité existe, mais si tu trouves ce petit mot un jour, alors tu sauras que j’ai tenu ma promesse, celle que je t’ai faite. A mon tour de te demander quelque chose, tu me le dois bien. Oublie ce que je viens d’écrire, en amitié on ne doit rien. Mais voici néanmoins ma requête : Dis-lui, dis-lui que quelque part sur cette terre, loin de vous, de votre temps, j’ai arpenté les mêmes rues, ri avec toi autour des mêmes tables, et puisque les pierres demeurent, dis-lui que chacune de celles où nous avons posé nos mais et nos regards contient à jamais une part de notre histoire. Dis-lui, que j’étais ton ami, que tu étais mon frère, peut-être mieux encore puisque nous nous étions choisis, dis-lui que rien n’a jamais pu nous séparer, même votre départ si soudain.

Të birtë e shekullit të ri Na të birtë e shekullit të ri, që plakun e lamë në "shejtnin" e tij e çuem grushtin për me luftue ndër lufta të reja dhe me fitue... Na të birtë e shekullit të ri, filizat e një toke së rimun me lot, ku djersë e ballit u dikonte kot - se dheu ynë qe kafshatë e huej dhe në marrzi duhej shum shtRejtë t'u paguhej. Na të birtë e shekullit të ri, vllazën të lindun e të rritun në zi, kur tinglloi çast' i ynë i mbramë edhe fatlumë ditëm me thanë : S'duem me humbë në lojë të përgjaktë të historis njerzore, jo! jo! s'i duem humbjet prore - duem ngadhnim! ngadhnim, ndërgjegje dhe mendimi të lirë! S'duem, për hir të kalbsinave të vjetra, që kërkojnë "shejtnim", të zhytemi prap në pellgun e mjerimit që të vajtojmë prap kangën e trishtimit, kangën monotone, pa shpirt, të sklavnis - të jem' një thumb i ngulun ndër trutë e njerzis. Na të birtë e shekullit të ri, me hovin ton e të ndezun peshë, ndër lufta të reja kemi m'u ndeshë dhe për fitore kem' me ra fli.

The word zen itself is a Japanese mispronunciation of the Chinese word ch’an, which, in turn, is a Chinese mispronunciation of the Sanskrit dhyana, meaning “contemplation, meditation.” Contemplation, however, of what? Let us imagine ourselves for a moment in the lecture hall where I originally presented the material for this chapter. Above, we see the many lights. Each bulb is separate from the others, and we may think of them, accordingly, as separate from each other. Regarded that way, they are so many empirical facts; and the whole universe seen that way is called in Japanese ji hokkai, “the universe of things.” But now, let us consider further. Each of those separate bulbs is a vehicle of light, and the light is not many but one. The one light, that is to say, is being displayed through all those bulbs; and we may think, therefore, either of the many bulbs or of the one light. Moreover, if this or that bulb went out, it would be replaced by another and we should again have the same light. The light, which is one, appears thus through many bulbs. Analogously, I would be looking out from the lecture platform, seeing before me all the people of my audience, and just as each bulb seen aloft is a vehicle of light, so each of us below is a vehicle of consciousness. But the important thing about a bulb is the quality of its light. Likewise, the important thing about each of us is the quality of his consciousness. And although each may tend to identify himself mainly with his separate body and its frailties, it is possible also to regard one’s body as a mere vehicle of consciousness and to think then of consciousness as the one presence here made manifest through us all. These are but two ways of interpreting and experiencing the same set of present facts. One way is not truer than the other. They are just two ways of interpreting and experiencing: the first, in terms of the manifold of separate things; the second, in terms of the one thing that is made manifest through this manifold. And as, in Japanese, the first is known as ji hokkai, so the second is ri hokkai, the absolute universe.

He drew his fingers down over her collarbones drifting closer to her breasts. “The muscles here on our women are often as developed as ours.” Judging by the heated look in his eyes, he didn’t mind at all that she had breasts instead of muscular pecs. “And here.” Her pulse picked up as he cupped her breasts. “You’re rounder here. Softer. Fuller.” He squeezed them gently and drew his thumbs across the hard, sensitive peaks. Ava sucked in a breath as sensation shot through her. “Do that again.” He brushed his thumbs across the tight buds again., toyed with them and gave an experimental pinch. Ava jerked and arched against him. “You’re sensitive here,” he murmured. “Yes.” His lips captured hers once more, tasting and tempting as he explored her breasts and ratcheted up her need. She and Jak’ri had been nearly bare with each other countless times in their dreams as they swam and cavorted in Rounaka Sea, but they had been out in the open and the dreams had felt so real that she would never have thought of doing her lustful inclinations there for fear of being discovered. Now, however, they were alone. They were free and the cave enclosing them might has well have been a Honeymoon suite at a secluded resort. So there was no reason for her to hold back. She moaned. Jak’ri certainly wasn’t holding back. The women of Purvel might not have breasts like hers, but he sure as hell knew what to do with them, teasing and tweaking and squeezing until she squirmed against him. Her breath shortening. “Jak’ri,” she whispered, tunneling the fingers of one hand through his thick hair while she slid the other down his back and rocked against the thick, hard ridge concealed by his pants. “I want you.” Nodding he trailed heated kisses down her neck. “I want you too.” One of his big hands left her breast and cupped her ass, grinding her against him. “Are you ready to release your eggs?” Sensation shot through her. “Hmmm?” “Are you ready to release your eggs so I can fertilize them?” he murmured, clutching her closer. Her eyes flew open. “Wait, what?” She leaned back. “I assume your reproduce the same way Purveli’s do,” he said, dragging his eyes up from her breasts to meet hers. “You release your eggs, then I fertilize them.” She stared at him, stunned. Release her eggs? Did he mean like a…like a fish? Her gaze shot to the barely discernable scales that coated his broad chest and handsome face. Did Purveli’s not have sex the way humans and Lasaran’s did? His lips twitched as his eyes danced with mirth. Relief filled her. “Oh my gosh,” laughing Ava shoved one of his shoulders. “You are so bad.” He laughed. “Apologies, I couldn’t resist. My scales seemed to fascinate you.

Ferrying Across is like crossing the sea. When you traverse a strait or make a long crossing of the sea, for a distance of even forty or fifty ri, you use "ferrying." In passing through this human world, too, there are likely many places within the space of a generation that may be called Ferrying Across. On a ship's course, you know where these places are, you know the capacity of the ship and you know the weather patterns well. Though other ships may not venture out, you do so by responding to the conditions of the hour, relying on either a crosswind or a tail wind and, if the wind changes, putting in the oars for two or three ri. With your mind set on arriving at port, you board the ship and ferry across You should think in terms of Ferrying Across when you pass through society and set your mind on some serious affair. For the martial arts, Ferrying Across is essential even in the midst of battle. Here you take into account the level of your opponent, judge your own degree of expertise, and, using the principles of the martial arts, ferry across. It is the same for a good mariner ferrying across a sea route.

One of the big problems in North Korea was a fertilizer shortage. When the economy collapsed in the 1990s, the Soviet Union stopped sending fertilizer to us and our own factories stopped producing it. Whatever was donated from other countries couldn’t get to the farms because the transportation system had also broken down. This led to crop failures that made the famine even worse. So the government came up with a campaign to fill the fertilizer gap with a local and renewable source: human and animal waste. Every worker and schoolchild had a quota to fill. You can imagine what kind of problems this created for our families. Every member of the household had a daily assignment, so when we got up in the morning, it was like a war. My aunts were the most competitive. “Remember not to poop in school!” my aunt in Kowon told me every day. “Wait to do it here!” Whenever my aunt in Songnam-ri traveled away from home and had to poop somewhere else, she loudly complained that she didn’t have a plastic bag with her to save it. “Next time I’ll remember!” she would say. Thankfully, she never actually did this. The big effort to collect waste peaked in January, so it could be ready for growing season. Our bathrooms in North Korea were usually far away from the house, so you had to be careful that the neighbors didn’t steal from you at night. Some people would lock up their outhouses to keep the poop thieves away. At school the teachers would send us out into the streets to find poop and carry it back to class. So if we saw a dog pooping in the street, it was like gold. My uncle in Kowon had a big dog who made a big poop—and everyone in the family would fight over it. This is not something you see every day in the West.

Pastroj zërin, ul kokën për t'u treguar akoma më qartë që për mua opinioni i tyre është komplet i panevojshëm dhe lexoj. - Ju lutem, më lejoni të prezantoj veten time. Nëse historia na ka mësuar diçka kjo është që... e harrova çfarë. Po ja, ideja ishte që me të rinjtë mund të ndryshosh situatën, të shpëtosh shtetin, të ngresh kombin, të formosh kombëtare të fortë fizikisht, aq sa të paktën të marrim ndonjë barazim. Bo, bo, i tmerrshëm jam, edhe i fortë, edhe humorist, edhe idealist. Më shikoni e lini sytë, se jam i riu shqiptar. Jam e ardhmja, përuluni, më nderoni, më masakroni, po vij. Ah, po, jam shumë evropian, jam i majtë, po më punon babi në një firmë private dhe ndonjëherë bëhem i djathtë. Copë-copë i kam duart, brohoras sa andej-këtej se na thanë që do të na japin fushë për të luajtur futboll. Jam shumë i pavarur, shumë "indipendent", po këto kohët e fundit, çoç varem pak, se e pashë që s'ma varte njeri ashtu. Po jam edhe shumë i zgjuar, jam diplomuar jashtë, por këta s'më bëjnë kryeministër edhe pse unë jam i zgjuar se kam mbaruar shkollën jashtë. S'më votojnë këta derra. Unë jam edhe vegjetarian se ashtu më kanë mësuar dhe respektoj naturën. Unë u thashë do të vij më datë 27, ma bëni gati një karrige aty, se jam shumë i zgjuar, por këta s'marrin vesh. Ndonjëherë më marrin me vete, çajmë tunele, çajmë male, ndërtojmë hidrocentrale, jam aq i ri sa nuk rri më ulur në kafene, rri në këmbë e kënaqem se në mitingje është plot me të rinj si puna ime. Po unë jam shumë i turpshëm e u them: "Ore jam i mirë unë. Do bëj revolucion unë. S'e sheh që kam veshur edhe bluzë me atë meksikanin, Çenë, edhe pse familja ime thotë: "Jo", po ku marrin vesh ata." Erdha këtu dje, pardje; takova Çimin, i thashë: "O Çimo, do i lujmë fenë lal, revolucion do bëjmë!". "Mirë", tha Çimi; e bëra kryeministër provizor të qeverisë provizore dhe dolëm në rrugë të gjithë bashkë, pastaj shkuam në shtëpi veç e veç. Po Çimin do e heq nga puna, se dje s'më dha cigare dreqi, unë i kisha mbaruar, nga shoqëria kishin mbaruar fondet, ngela thatë...

Vallja e Yjeve Yjtë-e ndezur si fingjill, Që vërtiten palë-palë, Prej mosgjëje zunë fill Plot me jetë-e mall të valë. Zunë fill me dashuri Që kur bota zu të ngjizet, Pa sikush për shok të ti Përvëlohet edhe ndizet. Ndizet ças edhe për ças, E si kurrë s'ka të shuar, Pa pushim i vete pas Me një sulm të llaftaruar. E si kurrë nuku mund Ylli yllin që t'a kapë Rrotull qiejve pa fund Venë-e-vinë-e-venë prapë... ....................................... ....................................... ....................................... ....................................... Do të venë fluturim Kudo janë-e kudo s'janë, Nëpër qjell që s'ka mbarim, As fillim, as fund, as anë. Kur mi të, kur nënë të, Kur me hire-e kur pa hire, Do përëajnë gjithënjë Hapësirë...shkretëtire... Ata ikin varg-e-varg Me një etje të pashuar: Sesà fellë-e sesà larg Shoq me shoq u pat larguar!... Kùsh j-u fali-aq dëshërim, Dh'aqë zjarr e aqë flakë, Dh'i gatoj me aq durim Yjtë-e lum e varfanjakë? Se do një, si për çudi, Ku prej syresh rreh të ftohet, Shoq i vet, nga mall'i ti, Më me zjarr zë përvëlohet... Dh'i vjen qark më me vërtik E me dhembje më të nxehtë, E si ik...si gjithë ik... E pushton me zjarr të vetë: Sa më pak e shmbëllen: Aq më shumë-e ndjek dëshira... Pa nga malli që s'e gjen, Dridhet gjithë hapësira. ...Kur po ja! Se që përtej Ndriten erërat nga pakë: Yll-i çdukur nëpër qiej Vetëtiu e mori flakë: J-a pat shtënë me një ças, Mun në mes në kraharuar, Shoq' i vet q'i sillej pàs Me një sulm të llaftaruar; Q'e kish flakën mun në gji, Q'e zhuritte dashurija, që çkëlqente me zili Rrotull rrezeve të tija. Yll i mjerë e yll i lum! Yll i lum e yll i mjerë! Sapo drita t'u përgjum, Sheh një shoq nëpër skëterë; Ay vin... e gjith vin..., Gjith më pranë... -e gjith më pranë...- Sesà ndrin e vetëtin!... Sesà ndjen një gas pa anë!... Sesa ndritesh përsëri! Sesì ndizesh përsëpari! Sesì djek me dashuri Posi yll margaritari!... Dashuri! Heu! Mall i ri! Dashuri! këng' e durimit! Ti liri! Ti robëri! Ti valim i shkrepëtimit!

Dear Jon, A real Dear Jon let­ter, how per­fect is that?! Who knew you’d get dumped twice in the same amount of months. See, I’m one para­graph in and I’ve al­ready fucked this. I’m writ­ing this be­cause I can’t say any of this to you face-to-face. I’ve spent the last few months ques­tion­ing a lot of my friend­ships and won­der­ing what their pur­pose is, if not to work through big emo­tional things to­gether. But I now re­al­ize: I don’t want that. And I know you’ve all been there for me in other ways. Maybe not in the lit­eral sense, but I know you all would have done any­thing to fix me other than lis­ten­ing to me talk and al­low­ing me to be sad with­out so­lu­tions. And now I am writ­ing this let­ter rather than pick­ing up the phone and talk­ing to you be­cause, de­spite every thing I know, I just don’t want to, and I don’t think you want me to ei­ther. I lost my mind when Jen broke up with me. I’m pretty sure it’s been the sub­ject of a few of your What­sApp con­ver­sa­tions and more power to you, be­cause I would need to vent about me if I’d been friends with me for the last six months. I don’t want it to have been in vain, and I wanted to tell you what I’ve learnt. If you do a high-fat, high-pro­tein, low-carb diet and join a gym, it will be a good dis­trac­tion for a while and you will lose fat and gain mus­cle, but you will run out of steam and eat nor­mally again and put all the weight back on. So maybe don’t bother. Drunk­en­ness is an­other idea. I was in black­out for most of the first two months and I think that’s fine, it got me through the evenings (and the oc­ca­sional af­ter­noon). You’ll have to do a lot of it on your own, though, be­cause no one is free to meet up any more. I think that’s fine for a bit. It was for me un­til some­one walked past me drink­ing from a whisky minia­ture while I waited for a night bus, put five quid in my hand and told me to keep warm. You’re the only per­son I’ve ever told this story. None of your mates will be ex­cited that you’re sin­gle again. I’m prob­a­bly your only sin­gle mate and even I’m not that ex­cited. Gen­er­ally the ex­pe­ri­ence of be­ing sin­gle at thirty-five will feel dif­fer­ent to any other time you’ve been sin­gle and that’s no bad thing. When your ex moves on, you might be­come ob­sessed with the bloke in a way that is al­most sex­ual. Don’t worry, you don’t want to fuck him, even though it will feel a bit like you do some­times. If you open up to me or one of the other boys, it will feel good in the mo­ment and then you’ll get an emo­tional hang­over the next day. You’ll wish you could take it all back. You may even feel like we’ve en­joyed see­ing you so low. Or that we feel smug be­cause we’re win­ning at some­thing and you’re los­ing. Re­member that none of us feel that. You may be­come ob­sessed with work­ing out why ex­actly she broke up with you and you are likely to go fully, fully nuts in your bid to find a sat­is­fy­ing an­swer. I can save you a lot of time by let­ting you know that you may well never work it out. And even if you did work it out, what’s the pur­pose of it? Soon enough, some girl is go­ing to be crazy about you for some un­de­fin­able rea­son and you’re not go­ing to be in­ter­ested in her for some un­de­fin­able rea­son. It’s all so ran­dom and un­fair – the peo­ple we want to be with don’t want to be with us and the peo­ple who want to be with us are not the peo­ple we want to be with. Re­ally, the thing that’s go­ing to hurt a lot is the fact that some­one doesn’t want to be with you any more. Feel­ing the ab­sence of some­one’s com­pany and the ab­sence of their love are two dif­fer­ent things. I wish I’d known that ear­lier. I wish I’d known that it isn’t any­body’s job to stay in a re­la­tion­ship they don’t want to be in just so some­one else doesn’t feel bad about them­selves. Any­way. That’s all. You’re go­ing to be okay, mate. Andy

- Oh, Nastenjka, Nastenjka! Ju as që mund ta merrni me mend sa shumë po më ngazëlleni! Po më pajtoni me vetveten! Nuk kam për të menduar kurrë keq për veten, siç më ka ndodhur rëndomë më parë! Se ku i dihet, mua dhe brenga sfilitëse, që jam treguar armik i vetes, ndoshta do më daravitet! Se jo një herë ia kam nxitur vetes mendimin që jeta e jetuar ka qenë mëkatare dhe deri kriminale. Dhe mos pandehni që po i zmadhoj gjërat. Kam kaluar e jo pak çaste trishtimi të pangushëllueshëm!... Më ka rënduar si plumb në zemër vetëdija e pazotësisë për të jetuar me të tashmen, me realen; e kam katandisur veten deri në atë farë feje, sa e kam mallkuar fatin tim, e kam sikterisur veten... Se mua, Nastenjka, ja se ç'më ka ndodhur pas netëve të kaluar me fantazime: jam kthyer në realitet, ku gjërat shihen esëll. Gjendje e padurueshme! Sheh tollovinë njerëzore, sheh dhe dëgjon si pulson jeta, vë re që dhe jeta e të tjerëve nuk është e përsosur, e jetojnë ashtu si u vjen, kapen fort pas çdo të mire që kjo u ofron, e përballojnë, kur ju shtie me shkelma, vë re që përtërihen e mëkëmben pas fatkeqsive, deri dhe rilinden; habitesh që asnjë minutë e jetës nuk ngjason me të mëparshmet, ndërkohë që fantazimet janë mërzindjellëse në monotoninë e tyre, janë frikamane para pengesave, skllave të vegimeve dhe të hijeve, të ideve dhe të hamendjeve të nxehta, ato janë skllave të resë, që e mbulon befas diellin dhe e mbush me pikëllim zemrën e vërtetë petërburgase, e cila, ngaqë e çmon aq shumë ndaj dhe drithërohet po aq shumë, kur e sheh t'i fshihet. Se fantazia në pikëllim ngjizet e harbon! Mirëpo vjen një çast që e ndien si venitet, si kapitet e deri vdiret në tendosjen e saj të pandërprerë, pa të cilën s'ka si bën, e sheh këtë dhe bindesh që fantazimet nuk janë të pashtershme, pale që edhe vetë ti zë e burrërohesh, i braktis ëndërrimet dhe përsiatjet e dikurshme... Vjen një çast, që fantazia bëhet copë e çikë dhe, në mos paç tjetër jetë, s'ke nga ia mban, do s'do detyrohesh dhe sajon nga rrënojat, bashkon mbeturinat e së parës. E pra, shpirti të do një të re! Ëndërrimtari i gjorë më kot zë e rrëmon në hirin e fantazisë së shkrumuar, për të gjetur aty ndonjë kongjill të ndezur, që t'i fryjë e t'i fryjë, me shpresën mos ndizet zjarri i ri, ku të ngrohë zemrën e kallkanosur, dhe të rimëkëmbë atë që dikur ishte aq hamngjitëse dhe joshëse, që ia rrëmbente shpirtin dhe ia vlonte gjakun, ia rrëmbushte sytë, duke e mashtruar me aq marifet! Dhe e dini, Nastenjka, sa keq u katandisa? S'më mbeti tjetër veç të festoja përvjetorin e ndijimeve të para fantastike, të atyre që pandehja se i pata përjetuar, kurse në vërtetë nuk i pata përjetuar, sepse edhe vetë përvjetori si i tillë imagjinar ishte, pjellë fantazie qe. Iu drejtova përkujtimit, ngaqë më mungonin fantazi të reja, nuk kisha nga i shtrydhja! Se ëndërrimet shtrydhen, Nastenjka! Ma kishte fort ënda të vizitoja ato vende, që lidheshin me lumturinë time të dikurshme, ta përshtasja të tashmen në përputhje me të atëhershmen. U ënda në ato rrugë të zymta pa ndonjë synim apo qëllim real, të përcaktuar, u sorollata sa desha nëpër Petërburgun aspak gazmor dhe kujtova e kujtova sa u enjta të përjetuarat asohere. Shihja me sytë e mendjes si ecja i vetmuar në po atë trotuar, si më mbyste pikëllimi dhe angështia, i rënduar nga ato fantazime aq të lemerishme. Nuk them se atëherë isha në gjendje më të mirë shpirterore, ama më i qetë se tani isha. Atëherë jetohej më këndshëm, s'i kisha tërë ato mendime të zeza për të cilët sapo ju fola, por as këtë vrasje ndërgjegje që po provoj tani. Endesha në atë përvjetor dhe thosha me vetë: "Sa shpejt që fluturojnë vitet!" dhe pas gjithë kësaj, përsëri ajo pyetja brengë: "Po ti ç'je duke bërë, ndërkohe që vitet fluturojne? A po e jeton jetën? Se vitet ikin e shkojnë dhe të troket pleqeria, bashkë me të dhe pafuqia, po edhe lloj-lloj mënxyrash! Se bota e fantazisë një ditë prej ditësh do të vdiret, ëndërrimet do shuhen e fashiten, do bien në tokë si gjethet në vjeshtë!..." O Nastenjka! Sa