Tudor Era Quotes

Numele singurătății ei era pe un mormânt.

Many [Tudor-era religious radicals] believed then, exactly as Christian fundamentalists do today, that they lived in the 'last days' before Armageddon and, again just as now, saw signs all around in the world that they took as certain proof that the Apocalypse was imminent. Again like fundamentalists today, they looked on the prospect of the violent destruction of mankind without turning a hair. The remarkable similarity between the first Tudor Puritans and the fanatics among today's Christian fundamentalists extends to their selective reading of the Bible, their emphasis on the Book of Revelation, their certainty of their rightness, even to their phraseology. Where the Book of Revelation is concerned, I share the view of Guy, that the early church fathers released something very dangerous on the world when, after much deliberation, they decided to include it in the Christian canon." [From the author's concluding Historical Note]

Spuneai ceva? Spuneai ceva? Spuneam ceva? Se pare. Şoptisei, poate, o-ntrebare, Sau, poate, un răspuns. Dar glasul nostru nu era ascuns? Poate zăream o şoaptă în pleoapa tremurată. A fost atunci? Acum e altădată? Şi tu şi eu tăcusem parcă ani întregi Ştiind că nu-nţelegem ce-ncepi să înţelegi. Zadarnica paradă a tâlcurilor scrise, În jocul de-a sfiala, amuţise. Nu vream să ştim ce suntem, ce am fi fost sau cine. Tu mă numiseşi "Ţie", eu te numisem "Tine". Să te cunosc? Să mă cunoşti? Stam unul lângă altul ca plopii mari - şi proşti.

El hombre que yo conocía había muerto mucho tiempo atrás. Lo que quedaba era un cascarón vacío. Todos los atributos que hacían de él la persona que era, su compasión, su humor, su afabilidad, incluso sus ridículos pronósticos del tiempo habían desaparecido. También sus recuerdos. Quizás esto era lo peor. Porque ¿qué somos, sino la suma de nuestras experiencias, de las cosas que reunimos y acumulamos en vida? En cuanto se nos despoja de ello, quedamos reducidos a una masa de carne, hueso y vasos sanguíneos.

Era casi como si la gente estuviera deseando olvidarla. Como si el hecho de recordar que había sido una persona de verdad echara a perder la historia.

illness that he had suffered for months.34 Ulcers and scabs covered his swollen torso, and his breath was ragged

Henry

Era un om scurt și umflat ca un as de cupă (poate din cauza asta i se zicea Birlic). Purta mustăți galbene ca mătasea de porumb crudă, chică tăiată scurt la ceafă, cum poartă călugării care au ibovnice la marginea tîrgurilor, manșete de celuloid, ca grefierii și ghete cu vîrful de lac și cu căputa de elastic, ca morții cu dare de mînă.

Mi-am împlântat lopata tăioasă în odaie. Afară bătea vântul. Afară era ploaie. Şi mi-am săpat odaia departe subt pământ. Afară bătea ploaia. Afară era vânt. Am aruncat pământul din groapă, pe fereastră. Pământul era negru: perdeaua lui, albastră. S-a ridicat la geamuri pământul până sus. Cât lumea-i era piscul, şi-n pisc plângea Isus. Săpând s-a rupt lopata. Cel ce-o ştirbise, iată-l, Cu moaştele-i de piatră, fusese însuşi Tatăl. Şi m-am întors prin timpuri, pe unde-am scoborât, Şi în odaia goală din nou mi-a fost urât. Şi am voit atuncea să sui şi-n pisc să fiu. O stea era pe ceruri. În cer era târziu.

Todas as coisas que o faziam ser quem era -compaixão, humor, afeto, até mesmo suas péssimas previsões meteorológicas - tinham desaparecido. Suas lembranças também. E talvez isso fosse o pior. Afinal, quem somos nós além da soma de nossas experiências, das coisas que aprendemos e conlecionamos ao longo da vida? Sem isso, não passamos de um conjunto de pele, ossos e vasos sanguíneos.

La muerte era algo que sobrevenía a los demás, no a chicos como nosotros ni a nuestros conocidos. La muerte era algo abstracto y lejano.

Lo peor fue ese momento. El repiqueteo y el roce del polvo sobre la tapa de madera del féretro. El olor a tierra húmeda bajo el calor menguante del sol de septiembre. Contemplar aquella enorme sima abierta en el suelo, sabiendo que de allí no salía a nadie. No había excusas que valieran, ni cláusulas de rescisión, ni notas enviadas por tu madre al profesor. La muerte era algo definitivo y absoluto, y nadie podía hacer nada para remediarlo.

No puedes ponerte triste cada vez que se muere alguien. - Bajó la voz-. Sean Cooper era un abusón. Eso no lo cambia el hecho de que esté muerto. Tampoco significa que lo que le pasó no fuera trágico.

Las hojas se curvaron, se arrugaron y, finalmente, el frágil nexo que las unía a los árboles se rompió. La decadencia y la muerte parecían impregnarlo todo. Ya nada ofrecía un aspecto fresco, colorido o inocente. Era como si el pueblo entero hubiera quedado suspendido de forma temporal en una polvorienta cápsula del tiempo.

During the medieval and Tudor eras pain relief in childbirth was illegal. One midwife was burned in 1591 for using opium for assisting labour.

Pubic hair, on the other hand, was much admired during the Renaissance and among some, if not all Tudors. The slang words for pubic hair during the era included ‘feathers’, ‘fleece’, ‘flush’, ‘moss’, ‘plush’, ‘plume’, and, interestingly, ‘the admired abode’.

Cross-dressing during the medieval and early Tudor era might simply reflect admiration and affection for the opposite sex.

Geoffrey Chaucer was England’s Virgil. During the first three and a half decades of the Tudor era he remained England’s pre-eminent poet.

The earliest evidence of venereal protection resembling a condom appeared during the Tudor era. A sheep’s intestine turned into a condom was used on occasion, mainly to prevent catching syphilis during coitus with a prostitute. Fish bladders were also used. The gut would be cut to size and dried out, requiring soaking in milk or water in order to rehydrate.

V-am zis să faceți bere pentru îndrăgostiți și să conțină afrodisiac? V-am zis, mă? Care era sloganu'? ,,Bea cât iubeşti”? Nu e bun. Mai bine invers - „Iubeşte cât bei".

Throughout the sixteenth century the wedding ceremony changed in detail.17 In the Reformed Church the marriage was performed inside the church, whatever the social degree of the couple. During the early Tudor era most marriages took place at the church door. Only high status weddings were held inside. Whilst a knight married within the door, an earl’s child might marry at the choir door. The dowry was announced in public at the church door and the couple were asked if they were willing to be married. Later, the groom laid the ring with an offering of money on a book or in a dish. The priest blessed it, sprinkled it with holy water and placed it on the bride’s finger. Gifts were given to wedding guests. They often were gloves and ribbons. Wedding presents such as plate or jewellery were

Throughout the sixteenth century the wedding ceremony changed in detail.17 In the Reformed Church the marriage was performed inside the church, whatever the social degree of the couple. During the early Tudor era most marriages took place at the church door. Only high status weddings were held inside. Whilst a knight married within the door, an earl’s child might marry at the choir door. The dowry was announced in public at the church door and the couple were asked if they were willing to be married. Later, the groom laid the ring with an offering of money on a book or in a dish. The priest blessed it, sprinkled it with holy water and placed it on the bride’s finger. Gifts were given to wedding guests. They often were gloves and ribbons. Wedding presents such as plate or jewellery were presented to the couple, usually cast into a basin on a table within the church.18 For poorer weddings bride ales (festivals) became commonplace. These were held prior to the wedding to raise money for the cost of the wedding through the sale of food and drink. A wedding had to be consummated for the marriage to be legal and this was the reason for a ceremonial bedding ceremony after the wedding feast. For ordinary people the event could become extremely boisterous. The wedding party played games as the couple were put to bed. Brides-men traditionally would pull off the bride’s garters and

Era ura față de un om pe care nu-l înțelegeau. Ştia bine că oamenii urăsc ce nu înţeleg.

Si nuestro mundo fuera una bola de cristal con nieve, habría sido el día en que un dios distraído pasó por allí, la agitó con fuerza y la dejó donde estaba. Incluso después de que la espuma y los copos se depositaron en el fondo, las cosas no volvieron a ser como antes. No del todo. Aunque, a través del cristal, nada parecía haber cambiado, en el interior todo era distinto.

Era tan bonita que dolía el corazón de sólo verla.

Só uma pessoa o visitava com regularidade, todas as semanas, sem falhar, e não era nenhum dos membros da congregação, nem nenhum dos seus «anjos» devotos. Era a minha mãe. Nunca percebi porquê. No passado, tinham-se odiado. O reverendo Martin tinha dito e feito coisas horríveis à minha mãe. Mais tarde, ela havia de me dizer: - Exactamente por isso, Eddie. Tens de compreender que ser uma pessoa boa nada tem a ver com entoar hinos nem rezar a um qualquer deus mítico. Não é usar um crucifixo nem ir todos os domingos à igreja. Uma pessoa boa não precisa de religião porque está em paz consigo mesma ao fazer o que deve ser feito.

when she turned to Orlando to speak to him, I saw she had what Pa Salt would have termed a Roman nose, which sat prominently in her striking face. She was certainly not classically beautiful and, from the look of her jeans and old sweater, did not care to make herself more so. Yet, there was something very attractive about her and I realized I wanted her to like me—an unusual feeling. “Are you coping back there?” she asked me. “Not far now.” “Yes, thank you.” I leaned my head against the windowpane as the thick hedges, their height exaggerated by the low car, flew by me, the country lanes becoming narrower. It felt so good to be out of London, with only the odd red-brick chimney stack peeping out from behind the wall of green. We turned right, through a pair of old gates that led to a drive so potholed that Marguerite’s and Orlando’s heads bumped against the roof. “I really must ask Mouse to bring the tractor and fill in these holes with gravel before the winter comes,” she commented to Orlando. “Here we are, Star,” she added as she pulled the car to a halt in front of a large, graceful house, its walls formed from mellow red brick, with ivy and wisteria fringing the uneven windows in greenery. Tall, thin chimney stacks, which emphasized the Tudor architecture, reached up into the crisp September sky. As I squeezed myself out of the back of the Fiat, I imagined the house’s interior to be rambling as opposed to impressive—it was certainly no stately home; rather, it looked as if it had gently aged and sunk slowly into the countryside surrounding it. It spoke of a bygone era, one that I loved reading about in books, and I experienced a twinge of longing. I followed Marguerite and Orlando toward the magnificent oak front door, and saw a young boy wobbling toward us on a shiny red bike. He let out a strange muffled shout, tried to wave, and promptly fell off the bike. “Rory!” Marguerite ran to him, but he had already picked himself up. He spoke again, and I wondered if he was foreign, as I couldn’t make out what he was saying. She dusted him down, then the boy picked up the bike and the two of them walked back to us. “Look who’s here,” Marguerite said, turning directly to the boy to speak to him. “It’s Orlando and his friend Star. Try saying ‘Star.’ ” She particularly enunciated the “st” in my name. “Ss-t-aahh,” the boy said as he approached me, a smile on his face, before holding up his hand and opening his fingers out like a shining star. I saw that Rory was the owner of a pair of inquisitive green eyes, framed by dark lashes. His wavy copper-colored hair glowed in the sun, and his rosy cheeks dimpled with happiness. I recognized that he was the kind of child that one would never want to say no to. “He prefers to go by the name ‘Superman,’ don’t you, Rory?” Orlando chuckled, holding up his hand in a fist like Superman taking off into the air. Rory nodded, then shook my hand with all the dignity of a superhero, and turned to Orlando for a hug. After giving him a tight squeeze and a tickle, Orlando set him down, then squatted in front of him and used his hands to sign, also speaking the words clearly. “Happy birthday! I have your present in Marguerite’s car. Would you like to come and get it with me?” “Yes please,” Rory spoke and signed, and I knew then that he was deaf. I rifled through my rusty mental catalog of what I had learned