Will Toledo Quotes

What do you mean you live someplace where there aren’t any humans? (Danger) In a realm far away from here. (Alexion) Is that like in star Wars? A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away? Want to tell me where your Tatooine is located? Is it anywhere in this universe? Near Toledo maybe? The one in Ohio or Spain? I’m not picky. Can I MapQuest it? (Danger)

There was a discordant hum of human voices! There was a loud blast as of many trumpets! There was a harsh grating as of a thousand thunders! The fiery walls rushed back! An outstretched arm caught my own as I fell, fainting, into the abyss. It was that of General Lasalle. The French army had entered Toledo. The Inquisition was in the hands of its enemies.

And that would make you – (Geary) A Cro-Mag, so yeah, when you call me a barbaric caveman, I am. Literally. Hell, I even knew a couple Neanderthals who once kicked my ass all over what is now Toledo, Spain. But here’s the fun part. Your boyfriend over there is even older than I am and he’s considered a baby by his family. (ZT)

Why do some people fall in love each other and other don't? What is love? Its so, so stupid. Right up until its real. And then its the most important thing in the world, whether you believe in it or not.

don't feel sorry for me. I am a competent, satisfied human being. be sorry for the others who fidget complain who constantly rearrange their lives like furniture. juggling mates and attitudes their confusion is constant and it will touch whoever they deal with. beware of them: one of their key words is "love." and beware those who only take instructions from their God for they have failed completely to live their own lives. don't feel sorry for me because I am alone for even at the most terrible moments humor is my companion. I am a dog walking backwards I am a broken banjo I am a telephone wire strung up in Toledo, Ohio I am a man eating a meal this night in the month of September. put your sympathy aside. they say water held up Christ: to come through you better be nearly as lucky.

Quixote shines from Lorca and Picasso, From Dalí and El Greco, From the gloomy 'View of Toledo.' He was born before Cervantes.

Sometimes you just have to keep away from the things that are trying to kill you, even if they're the same thing that gave birth to you. Sometimes those two things are the same, and their name is mother.

Sleep is a shallow death we practice every night.

If you can’t compete with beauty, compete with wisdom; because wisdom is a powerful sword~

As if it would slide off their brains at an angle, leaving a scuff mark.

This is a love story about astronomy, he thought. Twin souls collide and love each other forever. And no one ever goes crazy. And no one ever dies. And the universe folds back on itself and clicks into place, and the pylons holding up the electrical wires are really trees. And the trees are really gods.

It’s more like every electron in every atom in the universe paused, breathed in deeply, assessed the situation, and then reversed its course, spinning backward, or the other way, which was the right way all along. And afterward, the universe was exactly the same, but infinitely more right.

If it weren't for the Chicagos and Detroits and Toledos, the terrible things would spread out across the whole country and make trouble for everybody else. Such places were collectors of badness in the way hospitals were collectors of the sick and damaged.

Now That I Am in Madrid I Can Think " I think of you and the continents brilliant and arid and the slender heart you are sharing my share of with the American air as the lungs I have felt sonorously subside slowly greet each morning and your brown lashes flutter revealing two perfect dawns colored by New York see a vast bridge stetching to the humbled outskirts with only you Standing on the edge of the purple like an only tree and in Toledo the olive groves’ soft blue look at the hills with silver like glasses like an old ladies hair It’s well known that God and I don’t get along together It’s just a view of the brass works for me, I don’t care about the Moors seen through you the great works of death, you are greater you are smiling, you are emptying the world so we can be alone together.

Wise words are sharper than any sword

La letra impresa es la sangre del alma de un escritor.

if what's on your mind is not in your life you should go find it

It's not the beauty in the face that makes people beautiful, wonderful, amazing , graceful or great, it's the beauty in a persons heart that makes everything beautiful and worth it. ♥

Once the government can demand of a publisher the names of the purchasers of his publications, the free press as we know it disappears. Then the spectre of a government agent will look over the shoulder of everyone who reads. The purchase of a book or pamphlet today may result in a subpoena tomorrow. Fear of criticism goes with every person into the bookstall. The subtle, imponderable pressures of the orthodox lay hold. Some will fear to read what is unpopular, what the powers-that-be dislike. When the light of publicity may reach any student, any teacher, inquiry will be discouraged. The books and pamphlets that are critical of the administration, that preach an unpopular policy in domestic or foreign affairs, that are in disrepute in the orthodox school of thought will be suspect and subject to investigation. The press and its readers will pay a heavy price in harassment. But that will be minor in comparison with the menace of the shadow which government will cast over literature that does not follow the dominant party line. If the lady from Toledo can be required to disclose what she read yesterday and what she will read tomorrow, fear will take the place of freedom in the libraries, book stores, and homes of the land. Through the harassment of hearings, investigations, reports, and subpoenas government will hold a club over speech and over the press." [United States v. Rumely, 345 U.S. 41 (1953)]

Do you know what the worst thing about literature is? . What? I said. That you end up being friends with writers. And friendship, treasure though it may be, destroys your critical sense. Once, said Don Pancracio, Monteforte Toledo dropped this riddle in my lap: a poet is lost in a city on the verge of collapse, with no money, or friends, or anyone to turn to. And of course, he neither wants nor plans to turn to anyone. For several days he roams the city and the country, eating nothing, or eating scraps. He's even stopped writing. Or he writes in his head: in other words, he hallucinates. All signs point to an imminent death. His drastic disappearance foreshadows it. And yet the poet doesn't die.

Who cares if it's dangerous? Who wants to be the person who doesn't touch two bells together to make a sound, who doesn't hit a baseball with a bat, doesn't grind and orange against a knife. In life, there is only collision to keep us from dissolution, and there is only love to keep us from death. In this bumping into that, there is salvation and sacrament, an end to the endless falling, a wall between us and oblivion.

Surely for as long as there have been nights as bad as this one---something to raise the possibility of another night that could actually, with love and cockcrows, light the path home, banish the Adversary, destroy the boundaries between our lands our bodies, our stories, all false, about who we are: for the one night, leaving only the clear way home and the memory of the infant you saw, almost too frail, there's too much shit in these streets, camels andother beasts stir heavily outside, each hoof a chance to wipe him out, make him only another Messiah, and sure somebody's around already taking bets on that one, while here in this town the Jewish collaborators are selling useful gossip to Imperial Intelligence, and the local hookers are keeping the foreskinned invaders happy, charging whatever the traffic will bear, just like the innkeepers who're naturally delighted with this registration thing, and up in the capital they're wondering should they, maybe, give everybody a number; yeah, something to help SPQR record-keeping...and Herod, or Hitler, fellas...what kind of a world is it...for a baby to come in tippin' those toledos at 7 pounds 8 ounces thinkin' he's gonna redeem it, why, he ought have his head examined... "But on the way home tonight, you wish you'd picked him up, held him a bit. Just held him, very close to your heart, his cheek by the hollow of your shoulder, full of sleep. As it it were you who could, somehow, save him. For the moment not caring who you're supposed to be registered as. For the moment, anyway, no longer who the Caesars say you are.

When the Nazis took Paris, the director of the Toledo Museum of Art wrote to David Finley, director of the not yet opened National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., to encourage the creation of a national plan, saying, “I know [the possibility of invasion] is remote at the moment, but it was once remote in France.

Madrid es la mas española de todas las ciudades de España.Cuando uno ha podido tener el Prado y al mismo tiempo El Escorial situado a dos horas al norte y Toledo al sur y un hermoso camino a Avila y otro bello camino a Segovia, que no esta lejos de la Granja, se siente dominado por la desesperacion al pensar que un dia habrá de morir y dejar todo aquello.

A man of few words is wiser than a man that speaks out his mind~

Qué absurda la vida cuando ya todo está hecho. Todos los lugares en los que nos pudieramos imaginar se convierten en cliché bajo nuestros pies

Es más fácil huir del capitalismo que de tu familia

Yo, Quijano, seré paladín. Seré mi sueño. En esa vieja casa hay una adarga antigua y una hoja de Toledo y una lanza y los libros verdaderos que a mi brazo prometen la victoria.

Maybe some people don't feel scared when they think about comets and supernovas. Maybe they think it is wonderful.

last night i had a dream a dream that i was pregnant

Maumee is the first stop,” Peggy says. “It’s a suburb of Toledo, Ohio.

Juan Bautista de Toledo,

The day I get to see Sam, we fly in to the Toledo Express Airport and motorcade to the Wolcott House Museum.

Every age has a people or a culture that believes the shortest distance between dreams and goals is a bomb, a bullet, a gas oven, or a keen Toledo sword and burning stake. Because

Do we know her, Mother?" said George. "What? No, of course we don't." "Because when I see her," he went on, as if she hadn't answered no, "I don't miss anyone. I just feel happy that she's near.

Suele decirse que los judíos sefarditas expulsados de España siguen guardando las llaves de sus casas de Toledo, pero lo que de verdad han conservado es el idioma, la llave que abre todas las puertas.

Diplomacy, if conducted sensibly, is a matter of small gains offset by small losses, an attempt to maintain a state of equilibrium in which catastrophes are either mitigated or, with luck, avoided entirely.

They wanted to expand the territory, so that spring they followed the Maumee River down past the ruins of Toledo, and then the Auglaize River into Ohio, and they eventually walked into the town where I lived.

Los placeres y las alegrías del capitalismo sólo sacian la mitad del ser humano. Es natural que la otra mitad se despierte alguna vez para recordar que más allá de los deseos de tener, yace el potente deseo de ser

Laugh, I tell you And you will turn back The hands of time. Smile, I tell you And you will reflect The face of the divine. Sing, I tell you And all the angels will sing with you! Cry, I tell you And the reflections found in your pool of tears - Will remind you of the lessons of today and yesterday To guide you through the fears of tomorrow. THE FOUR HEAVENLY FOUNTAINS by Suzy Kassem Taken from University of Toledo Collection: The Spring For Wisdom Copyright 1994

She answered very humbly that her name was Tolosa, and that she was the daughter of a cobbler from Toledo who lived near the stalls of the Sancho Bienaya market, and no matter where she might be she would serve him and consider him her master.

Here’s a two-week alternative, which could include a few car days in southern Spain near the end of your trip: Start in Barcelona (two days); train to Madrid (five days total, with two days in Madrid and three for side-trips to Toledo, El Escorial, and Segovia or Ávila); train to Granada (two days); bus to Nerja (one day, could rent car here); both Ronda and Arcos for drivers, or just Ronda by train (two days); to Sevilla (drop off car, two days); and then train to Madrid and fly home.

In 1300 people in London, Paris and Toledo did not believe that humans could determine by themselves what is good and what is evil, what is right and what is wrong, what is beautiful and what is ugly. Only God could create and define goodness, righteousness and beauty.

They were probably fifty feet away from each other. How far is fifty feet? To the top of the tallest tree? From one lip of a volcano to the other? As far as a man can go in ten seconds, striding briskly? As far as a man can go in five seconds, falling over himself in enthusiasm?

From that age until seventeen I did all the work done with horses, such as breaking up the land, furrowing, ploughing corn and potatoes, bringing in the crops when harvested, hauling all the wood, besides tending two or three horses, a cow or two, and sawing wood for stoves, etc., while still attending school. For this I was compensated by the fact that there was never any scolding or punishing by my parents; no objection to rational enjoyments, such as fishing, going to the creek a mile away to swim in summer, taking a horse and visiting my grandparents in the adjoining county, fifteen miles off, skating on the ice in winter, or taking a horse and sleigh when there was snow on the ground. While still quite young I had visited Cincinnati, forty-five miles away, several times, alone; also Maysville, Kentucky, often, and once Louisville. The journey to Louisville was a big one for a boy of that day. I had also gone once with a two-horse carriage to Chilicothe, about seventy miles, with a neighbor’s family, who were removing to Toledo, Ohio, and returned alone; and had gone once, in like manner, to Flat Rock, Kentucky, about seventy miles away. On this latter occasion I was fifteen years of age.

I love you," said George. "I love you, too," said Irene. "I'm glad you said that," said George. "I wasn't sure you would." "Yes, it's been five whole days since we met. What a holdout I am. You've been through such endless torments," she teased. "I have," said George. "I thought I would never find you.

Las políticas identitarias nacen de una pulsión infantil, engañosa, casi inhumana: el ansia de sistematizar el mundo, de reducirlo a una contienda binaria entre categorías rígidas y fácilmente manejables. La realidad es polícroma y variable como un caleidoscopio. Ahí reside su interés. Y su belleza. Y su valor.

The second myth is that in its appetite for death as spectacle the Triple Alliance was fundamentally different from Europe. Criminals beheaded in Palermo, heretics burned alive in Toledo, assassins drawn and quartered in Paris—Europeans flocked to every form of painful death imaginable, free entertainment that drew huge crowds.

On September 22, 1958, the Edmund Fitzgerald, skippered by Captain Bert Lambert, left Rouge River bound for Silver Bay, Minnesota, where it was scheduled to pick up a load of taconite pellets to be delivered to Toledo. Not surprisingly, that very first load set a tonnage record when the Fitz passed through the Soo Locks a few days later. The ship's life on the Great Lakes had begun.

To grasp the depth and implications of the humanist revolution, consider how modern European culture differs from medieval European culture. In 1300 people in London, Paris and Toledo did not believe that humans could determine by themselves what is good and what is evil, what is right and what is wrong, what is beautiful and what is ugly. Only God could create and define goodness, righteousness and beauty. Although

Because Espina claimed an inherited basis for Jewish evil, he considered conversos to be as untrustworthy as the Jews. Overtly Espina advocated that all Jews be exiled; for conversos he favored the establishment of an Inquisition that would find and burn conversos responsible for the heresies he believed had been uncovered by the rebels in Toledo. But Fortalitium Fidei goes further than this, implying that the solution to the converso problem is what we would now consider genocide.

The city of Granada, so gloriously provided with architectural reminders of its Islamic heritage, was particularly anxious to show that it was a more ancient and distinguished Christian centre than Toledo or Santiago de Compostela, and it also wanted to outface the upstart royal capital Madrid. These aims were much assisted by the ‘discovery’ from 1588 onwards of a series of forged early Christian relics (plomos, or lead books) hidden in the minaret of the former main Granadan mosque and in various nearby caves.

Ohio is a scale model of the entire country, jammed into 43,000 square miles. Cleveland views itself as the intellectual East (its citizens believe they have a rivalry with Boston and unironically classify the banks of Lake Erie as the North Coast). Cincinnati is the actual South (they fly Confederate flags and eat weird food). Dayton is the Midwest. Toledo is Pittsburgh, before Pittsburgh was nice. Columbus is a low-altitude Denver, minus the New World Order airport. Ohio experiences all possible US weather, sometimes simultaneously.

The practice of giving uniforms to soldiers, which hadn’t been the case before, began at that time in France. Toledo gave us half-Spanish, half-French costumes. We wore scarlet habits, black breastplates with the Maltese cross at the middle, ruffs and Spanish hats. This costume suited us very well. Wherever we appeared, women never left their windows and duennas came running to us with love-letters, often delivered to the wrong person. Such confusion led to the most amusing incidents. We visited all the ports in the Mediterranean and were feted everywhere.

Whoever believes in the myth of ‘peaceful coexistence that marked the relationships between the conquered and the conquerors’ should reread the stories of the burned convents and monasteries, of the profaned churches, of the raped nuns, of the Christian or Jewish women abducted to be locked away in their harems. He should ponder on the crucifixions of Cordoba, the hangings of Granada, the beheadings of Toledo and Barcelona, of Seville and Zamora. (The beheadings of Seville, ordered by Mutamid: the king who used those severed heads, heads of Jews and Christians, to adorn his palace). Invoking the name of Jesus meant instant execution. Crucifixion, of course, or decapitation or hanging or impalement. Ringing a bell, the same. Wearing green, the colour of Islam, also. And when a Muslim passed by, every Jew and Christian was obliged to step aside. To bow. And mind to the Jew or the Christian who dared react to the insults of a Muslim. As for the much-flaunted detail that the infidel-dogs were not obliged to convert to Islam, not even encouraged to do so, do you know why they were not? Because those who converted to Islam did not pay taxes. Those who refused, on the contrary, did.

Within twenty-five years of the prophet Muhammad's death in 632, they had conquered all of the Fertile Crescent and Persia, and thrust into Armenia and Azerbaijan. Their lightning advance was even more penetrating towards the west: Egypt fell in 641 and the rest of North Africa as far as Tunisia in the next decade. Two generations later, by 712, the Arabic language had become the medium of worship and government in a continuous band of conquered territories from Toledo and Tangier in the west to Samarkand and Sind in the east. No one has ever explained clearly how or why the Arabs could do this.

When my father was satisfied that his room was in order, he would take a pair of compasses and a pair of scissors, cut up twenty-four pieces of paper of equal size and, filling each of them with a pinch of Brazilian tobacco, would make twenty-four cigarettes which were so well-rolled and so uniform in size that they could be considered the most perfect cigarettes in all Spain. He would smoke six of these masterpieces while counting the tiles on the roof of the palacio de Alba, six more in counting the people coming through the Toledo gate, then he would fix his gaze on the door of his room until his dinner was brought to him.

The key to staying lost was to never love anything. Time and time again, Early was amazed by what a running man came back for. Women, mostly. In Jackson, he’d caught a man wanted for attempted murder because he’d circled back for his wife. You could find a new woman anywhere, but then again, the most violent men were always the most sentimental. Pure emotion, any way you look at it. What really got him were the men who returned for belongings. Too many goddamn cars to count, always some junk a man had driven for years and couldn’t part with. In Toledo, he’d caught a man who’d returned to his childhood home for an old baseball.

Ohio hadn’t gone through the same real estate boom as the Sun Belt, but the vultures had circled the carcasses of dying industrial towns––Dayton, Toledo, Mansfield, Youngstown, Akron––peddling home equity loans and refinancing. All the garbage that blew up in people’s faces the same way subprime mortgages had. A fleet of nouveau riche snake oil salesmen scoured the state, moving from minority hoods where widowed, churchgoing black ladies on fixed incomes made for easy marks to the white working-class enclaves and then the first-ring suburbs. The foreclosures began to crop up and then turn into fields of fast-moving weeds, reducing whole neighborhoods to abandoned husks or drug pens. Ameriquest, Countrywide, CitiFinancial––all those devious motherfuckers watching the state’s job losses, plant closings, its struggles, its heartache, and figuring out a way to make a buck on people’s desperation. Every city or town in the state had big gangrenous swaths that looked like New Canaan, the same cancer-patient-looking strip mall geography with brightly lit outposts hawking variations on usurious consumer credit. Those entrepreneurs saw the state breaking down like Bill’s truck, and they moved in, looking to sell the last working parts for scrap.

POEM – MY AMAZING TRAVELS [My composition in my book Travel Memoirs with Pictures] My very first trip I still cannot believe Was planned and executed with such great ease. My father, an Inspector of Schools, was such a strict man, He gave in to my wishes when I told him of the plan. I got my first long vacation while working as a banker One of my co-workers wanted a travelling partner. She visited my father and discussed the matter Arrangements were made without any flutter. We travelled to New York, Toronto, London, and Germany, In each of those places, there was somebody, To guide and protect us and to take us wonderful places, It was a dream come true at our young ages. We even visited Holland, which was across the Border. To drive across from Germany was quite in order. Memories of great times continue to linger, I thank God for an understanding father. That trip in 1968 was the beginning of much more, I visited many countries afterward I am still in awe. Barbados, Tobago, St. Maarten, and Buffalo, Cirencester in the United Kingdom, Miami, and Orlando. I was accompanied by my husband on many trips. Sisters, nieces, children, grandchildren, and friends, travelled with me a bit. Puerto Rico, Los Angeles, New York, and Hialeah, Curacao, Caracas, Margarita, Virginia, and Anguilla. We sailed aboard the Creole Queen On the Mississippi in New Orleans We traversed the Rockies in Colorado And walked the streets in Cozumel, Mexico. We were thrilled to visit the Vatican in Rome, The Trevi Fountain and the Colosseum. To explore the countryside in Florence, And to sail on a Gondola in Venice. My fridge is decorated with magnets Souvenirs of all my visits London, Madrid, Bahamas, Coco Cay, Barcelona. And the Leaning Tower of Pisa How can I forget the Spanish Steps in Rome? Stratford upon Avon, where Shakespeare was born. CN Tower in Toronto so very high I thought the elevator would take me to the sky. Then there was El Poble and Toledo Noted for Spanish Gold We travelled on the Euro star. The scenery was beautiful to behold! I must not omit Cartagena in Columbia, Anaheim, Las Vegas, and Catalina, Key West, Tampa, Fort Lauderdale, and Pembroke Pines, Places I love to lime. Of course, I would like to make special mention, Of two exciting cruises with Royal Caribbean. Majesty of the Seas and Liberty of the Seas Two ships which grace the Seas. Last but not least and best of all We visited Paris in the fall. Cologne, Dusseldorf, and Berlin Amazing places, which made my head, spin. Copyright@BrendaMohammed

They're playing my favorite song." He swept her into his arms and began to move with her around the floor. The honky-tonk music was something low and bluesy. Marilee looked up into his face. 'I don't recognize this song.What is it?" He gave her that soulful smile. "I don't know.But from now on it's going to be my favorite." She felt her heart stutter. He closed both arms around her, drawing her close. She knew that everyone in the saloon was watching. At the moment, she didn't care. She couldn't think about anything except the press of his body to hers.The feel of those strong, muscled arms around her.The warmth of his thighs molded to hers.The touch of his mouth against her temple,his warm breath feathering her hair. "This is nice." His voice vibrated through her, sending a series of delicious tingles along her spine. "Yeah." She looked up into his eyes and could feel herself drowning in them. She was melting all over him, with the entire town watching. She could actually feel her heart beginning to drum in her temples. She knew she ought to draw back, but she couldn't.She didn't want the song to end.Or this night. Oh,hell.Just look at her. She was falling for a footloose rebel with a smooth line who'd probably left a trail of broken hearts from Toledo to Timbuktu. The kind of guy she'd made a career of staying as far away from as possible. And here she was. Falling hard. Willingly. Right in front of the entire town.And loving every minute of it.

Come when you should. All this will have been passing through me for you to breathe. I have gazed at it for so long, for your sake, namelessly, with the gaze of poverty, and have loved it, as if already you drank it in. And yet: when I recall that all this- myself, stars, flowers, the sharp flight of a bird out of gesturing brushwood, the clouds' haughtiness and what the wind could do to me at night, whisking me out of one being into next,-that all this, in endless succession (for I am all this, am what the potion's roar left behind in my ear, am the exquisite taste which once a ripe fruit expended on my lips),- that all this, when once you're really here, all, even back to the boy's low gaze into the chalices of high-grown flower fields, even back to one of my mother's smiles which I perhaps, thronged with your being, shall think of as something stolen-, that all this I then shall have to inexhaustibly outgive, night and day, so much unsparingly assimilated nature-, never knowing if what begins to glow in you is mine: perhaps you'll grow more beautiful entirely from your own beauty, from the profusion of restedness in your limbs, from what is sweetest in your blood,-for all I know, because there is awareness even in your hand, because your hair flatters your shoulders, because something in the dark breeze is one with you, because your forget me totally, because you don't strain to hear, because you are a woman: when I recall how I've thrust tenderness into that blood I'd never startled, the voiceless heartstream of things held dear Toledo, November 1912

At any rate, I CAME TO THE CONCLUSION THAT SELF-DEFENSE IS BEING TAUGHT WRONG NEARLY EVERYWHERE, FOR THE FOLLOWING MAJOR REASONS: 1. Beginners are not grounded in the four principal methods of putting the body-weight into fast motion: (a) FALLING STEP, (b) LEG SPRING, (c) SHOULDER WHIRL, (d) UPWARD SURGE. 2. The extremely important POWER LINE in punching seems to have been forgotten. 3. The wholesale failure of instructors and trainers to appreciate the close cooperation necessary between the POWER LINE and WEIGHTMOTION results generally in impure punching-weak hitting. 4. Explosive straight punching has become almost a lost art because instructors place so much emphasis on shoulder whirl that beginners are taught wrongfully to punch straight 'without stepping whenever possible. 5. Failure to teach the FALLING STEP ("trigger step") for straight punching has resulted in the LEFT JAB being used generally as a light, auxiliary weapon for making openings and "setting up," instead of as a stunning blow. 6. Beginners are not shown the difference between SHOVEL HOOKS and UPPERCUTS. 7. Beginners are not warned that taking LONG STEPS with hooks may open up those hooks into SWINGS. 8. The BOB-WEAVE rarely is explained properly. 9. Necessity for the THREE-KNUCKLE LANDING is never pointed out. 10. It is my personal belief that BEGINNERS SHOULD BE TAUGHT ALL TYPES OF PUNCHES BEFORE BEING INSTRUCTED IN DEFENSIVE MOVES, for nearly every defensive move should be accompanied by a simultaneous or a delayed counterpunch. You must know how to punch and you must have punching confidence before you can learn aggressive defense.

No había piedad en ellos, ni siquiera esos ápices de humanidad que a veces uno vislumbra incluso en los más desalmados. Frailes, juez, escribano y verdugos se comportaban con una frialdad y un distanciamiento tan rigurosos que era precisamente lo que más pavor producía; más, incluso, que el sufrimiento que eran capaces de infligir: la helada determinación de quien se sabe respaldado por leyes divinas y humanas, y en ningún momento pone en duda la licitud de lo que hace. Después, con el tiempo, aprendí que, aunque todos los hombres somos capaces de lo bueno y de lo malo, los peores siempre son aquellos que, cuando administran el mal, lo hacen amparándose en la autoridad de otros, en la subordinación o en el pretexto de las órdenes recibidas. Y si terribles son quienes dicen actuar en nombre de una autoridad, una jerarquía o una patria, mucho peores son quienes se estiman justificados por cualquier dios. Puestos a elegir con quien habérselas a la hora, a veces insoslayable, de tratar con gente que hace el mal, preferí siempre a aquellos capaces de no acogerse más que a su propia responsabilidad. Porque en las cárceles secretas de Toledo pude aprender, casi a costa de mi vida, que nada hay más despreciable, ni peligroso, que un malvado que cada noche se va a dormir con la conciencia tranquila. Muy malo es eso. En especial, cuando viene parejo con la ignorancia, la superstición, la estupidez o el poder; que a menudo se dan juntos. Y aún resulta peor cuando se actúa como exégeta de una sola palabra, sea del Talmud, la Biblia, el Alcorán o cualquier otro escrito o por escribir. No soy amigo de dar consejos –a nadie lo acuchillan en cabeza ajena-, mas ahí va uno de barato: desconfíen siempre vuestras mercedes de quien es lector de un solo libro.

Earth is a natural pearl that will always give us Joy.

He explained that when he had gotten to Toledo, he had a meeting with himself. He said he realized he had become satisfied with being a starting pitcher in the big leagues, and with the money he was making.

Don Quixote is thus in part a postscript to the history of a first-rate place, the most poignant lament over the loss of that universe, its last chapter, allusive, ironic, bittersweet, quixotic. It is perhaps the last, the best, the most subtle of the Spanish memory palaces. Its incomparable Castilian is the direct descendant of the Castilian first forged out of the little groups of Muslims, Christians, and Jews who worked together in Toledo to translate that magnificent Arabic library first into Latin and then into Castilian, which was the mother tongue of all of them...

He bounces out of bed in the morning, talking, as if we’re in the middle of a conversation. He picks up where we left off, maybe the night before, maybe a week before. It never occurs to him that I might still be asleep. To him, he’s up and it’s party time.” —Tobey, Toledo, OH

He eats off my plate. I have to gobble my meal before he swipes it.” —Claire, Toledo, OH

Los turistas adoran fotografiar a los indígenas del altiplano vestidos con sus ropas típicas. Pero ignoran que la actual vestimenta indígena fue impuesta por Carlos III a fines del siglo XVIII. Los trajes femeninos que los españoles obligaron a usar a las indígenas eran calcados de los vestidos regionales de las labradoras extremeñas, andaluzas y vascas, y otro tanto ocurre con el peinado de las indias, raya al medio, impuesto por el virrey Toledo.

—Podría haber ido a cualquier otro sitio sin necesidad de imposturas. Al Califato occidental... Toledo, Córdoba... Pero había oído hablar de un hombre, Avicena, cuyo nombre árabe me acometió como un hechizo y me sacudió como un estrecimiento. Abu Ali at-Husain ibn Abdullah Ibn Sina. Para tocar el borde de tus vestiduras. El médico más grande del mundo—susurró Rob.

To safeguard the holiest symbol of their Catholic faith, the Toledo churchmen, escorted by a small cohort of armed nobles, had fled with the cathedral's high altar for a fortified place the Muslims would call Wadi al-Hijara ("river of stones")-Guadalajara-some three days' ride frim the capital and but a few miles from the village of Madrid.

Adelard of Bath (ca. 1075-1160) disguised himself as a Muslim and studied at Cordoba; he translated Euclid's Elements from the Arabic translation into Latin, and Ptolemy's Almagest from Greek into Latin. When Alfonso VI of Castile captured Toledo from the Moors in 1085, he did not burn their libraries, containing a wealth of Muslim manuscripts. Under the encouragement of the Archbishop of Toledo, a veritable intelligence evaluation center was set up. A large number of translators, the best known of whom was Gerard of Cremona (1114-1187), translated from Arabic, Greek and Hebrew into Latin, at last acquainting Europe not only with classical Greek mathematics, but also with contemporary Arab algebra, trigonometry and astronomy. Before the Toledo leak opened, mediaeval Europe did not have a mathematician who was not a Moor, Greek or a Jew.

Returning to Cordoba immediately after the slaughter, Mughith established a precedent of historic political and religious impact. He assembled all of the Jews in the city and left them, "together with willing Christians and a small detachment of Muslims," in charge of Cordoba's defenses. Mughith's precedent established the conditions for the vaunted Muslim-Judeo-Christian interdependence that was to distinguish Islam in Iberia for several centuries. His collaborative precedent was also, to be sure, an astute response to the numbers on the ground-a Muslim force of infinitesimal size pragmatically manufacturing auxiliaries from the local population. King Egica's insensate proscriptions casting all unconverted Jews into slavery and confiscating their property had driven these people to save themselves by reaching out to the conquering Arabs. After so many years of living under the Damoclean sword of property expropriation, forced conversion, and expulsion, Jews throughout Hispania welcomed the Muslim invaders as deliverers. Leaving this first large conquered city well pacified, Mughith saddled up and drove his cavalry due north to reunite with Tariq's main force, already at the gates of Toledo.

You expect me to give you two hundred grand and let you jet off alone to Southeast Asia?" Kate asked him, more accusation than question. "You aren't thinking about going after Griffin and the half a billion dollars yourself, are you?" "Never crossed my mind." They were so close that their lips were practically touching, and she could feel his heart beating under her hand. She'd sort of hoped his heart would be racing, but his heart was steady. Her heart was the only one racing. Dammit. She saw his eyes darken just as they had in the dressing room. He leaned in to her ever so slightly, and a hot rush of panic flashed through her. The panic was followed by something she feared was desire. Holy Toledo, she thought, he's going to kiss me. "See you in Denpasar," Nick said, his lips lightly brushing hers when he spoke. "Mmm," Kate murmured, ready for the kiss. "Denpasar." Nick stepped away, smiled at her, and messed up her hair.

You would be wise" he agreed, "To go to Cordoba or Toledo. The best of all things is to learn. Money can be lost or stolen, health and strength may fail, but what you have committed to your mind is forever.

Criminals beheaded in Palermo, heretics burned alive in Toledo, assassins drawn and quartered in Paris—Europeans flocked to every form of painful death imaginable, free entertainment that drew huge crowds. London, the historian Fernand Braudel tells us, held public executions eight times a year at Tyburn, just north of Hyde Park. (The diplomat Samuel Pepys paid a shilling for a good view of a Tyburn hanging in 1664; watching the victim beg for mercy, he wrote, was a crowd of "at least 12 or 14,000 people.") In most if not all European nations, the bodies were impaled on city walls and strung along highways as warnings. "The corpses dangling from trees whose distant silhouettes stand out against the sky, in so many old paintings, are merely a realistic detail," Braudel observed. "They were part of the landscape." Between 1530 and 1630, according to Cambridge historian V.A.C. Gatrell, England executed seventy-five thousand people. At that time, its population was about three million, perhaps a tenth that of the Mexica empire. Arithmetic suggests that if England had been the size of the Triple Alliance, it would have executed, on average, 7,500 people per year, roughly twice the number Cortes estimated for the empire. France and Spain were still more bloodthirsty than England, according to Braudel.

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There is no reason to believe that stars and planets or their movement could have any influence whatsoever on the lives of human beings or the countries of the earth. Neither is there any empirical evidence to show that true love is anything but a construct created by humans to solidify a family unit based on monogamy and a strong, diverse lineage for the species. No evidence of any true god. And yet we watch the stars, we fall in love, we pray. Therefore scholars of astrology, love, and religion have been forced to accept that something can be real, even if it is not true.

1. Shoot your loose, half-opened left hand straight along the power line at a chin-high spot on the bag. 2. But, as the relaxed left hand speeds toward the bag, suddenly close the hand with a convulsive, grabbing snap. Close it with such a terrific grab that when the second knuckle of the upright fist smashes into the bag, the fist and the arm and the shoulder will be "frozen" steel-hard by the terrific grabbing tension. That convulsive, freezing grab is the explosion. Try that long left jolt three or four times. Make certain each time that (1) you are completely relaxed before you step; (2) that your relaxed LEFT hand, in normal guarding position, is only half-closed; (3) that you make no preliminary movement with either your feet or your left hand. Do not draw back-or "cock"-the relaxed left hand in a preparatory movement that you hope will give the punch more zing. Don't do that! You'll not only telegraph the blow, but you'll slow up and weaken the punch. Now that you've got the feel of the stepping jolt, let's examine it in slow motion to see exactly what you did. First, the Falling Step launched your body-weight straight at the target at which your left toe was pointing. Secondly, your relaxed left hand shot out to relay that moving body-weight along the power line to the target before that moving weight could be relayed to the floor by your descending left foot. Thirdly, the convulsive, desperate grab in your explosion accomplished the following: (a) caused the powerful muscles of your back to give your left shoulder a slight surging whirl toward your own right, (b) psychologically "pulled" the moving body-weight into your arm with P. sudden lurch, (c) gave a lightning boost to the speed of your fist, (d) froze your fist, wrist, arm and shoulder along the power line at the instant your fist smashed into the target, and (e) caused terrific "follow-through" after the explosion. When the long, straight jolt crashes into a fellow's chin, the fist doesn't bounce off harmlessly, as it might in a light, medium-range left jab. No sir! The frozen solidity behind the jolt causes the explosion to shoot forward as the solid breech of a rifle forces a cartridge explosion to shoot the bullet forward. The bullet in a punch is your fist, with the combined power from your fast-moving weight and your convulsing muscles behind it-solidly. Your fist, exploded forward by the solid power behind it, has such terrific "follow-through" that it can snap back an opponent's head like that of a shot duck. It can smash his nose, knock out his teeth, break his jaw, stun him, floor him, knock him out.

THE STRAIGHT RIGHT JOLT IS THROWN FROM THE SAME POSITION AS THE STRAIGHT LEFT. Stand in your normal punching position. Your relaxed right hand is half-opened, and the upper knuckle of the thumb is about four inches in front of your lips. Without any preliminary movement of the right hand, shoot it at the chin-high spot on the bag as you do the falling step. Neither pull back nor cock the right before throwing it. As you step in to explode the second knuckle of your upright fist against the bag, your chin should be partially protected by your left shoulder, left arm and left hand. Remember that your left hand opens to make a "knife blade," with the palm turned slightly toward your opponent. While the right fist is being thrown, the left hand and arm should stiffen for an instant in order to present a rigid barrier before the face in case an opponent attempts to strike with a countering right. The index knuckle of your opened left hand should remain about ten inches in front of your left eye as you step in. But the instant your right fist lands, your left hand should relax into its normal half-opened condition so that it will be ready to punch immediately, if necessary (Figure 13B). Straight punches for the body, with either hand, are begun and executed in the same manner as head punches. (Any change in position before the start would be a telltale.) When in motion, however, your fist turns so that the palm is down when the second knuckle explodes against the bag. Also, as you begin the body punch, you bend forward to slide under guarding arms and to make your own chin a less open target. As you practice those punches, keep your eyes wide open. Don't close your eyes as you step in. Focus your eyes on your target, YOU MUST KEEP YOUR EYES WIDE OPEN AT ALL TIMES WHEN YOU ARE FIGHTING OR BOXING.

When you reach striking range of the bag, step in with a straight jolt with either fist-without preliminary movement. I mean: YOUR LAST SHUFFLING STEP TAKES YOU WITHIN RANGE, AND YOUR NEXT STEP IS THE PUNCHING STEP. Under no circumstances take any little half-step or hippity-hop when you decide to punch. And don't draw back the punching hand. Practice the shuffling approach a few times, hitting with one fist and then the other.

Imagine, they think they’ve found the Holy Shroud, the real one, bang in downtown Toledo. It had been sewn to a cinema screen, to hide it from the Muslims. Apparently they wanted to use it so they could say Jesus Christ was a black man. What do you make of that?

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Without question, Isabella was fervently religious and spent many hours in prayer at her private altar seeking to divine God’s purpose for her life, obsessively attending mass, even living inside a suite of rooms positioned above the chair at the Cathedral in Toledo when she was visiting Castile’s spiritual center.

The sneaker is a slightly overhanded right hook to the head, delivered at the instant you force a break-away from a clinch. In boxing, it is illegal for you to use this blow, or any other, after the referee has told you to break. But you can use it before he orders a break-when you make your own break. In fist-fighting you can use it whenever you get the chance. Here's what you do in a clinch when you haven't room to punch with either hand: (1) Keep your head in close to the left side of your opponent's head, with your chin slightly over his shoulder; (2) maneuver with your left hand until you can grab the inside crook of his right elbow, and thus hold his right arm so firmly that he can't punch with it; (3) get his left arm under your right arm, and clamp your right hand under his arm-just above the elbow-just below the biceps (Figure 36). When you hold him in that fashion, he can't hit you; but you are in perfect position to break away sharply and deliver a stunning overhanded "sneaker" hook. Suddenly, yank him tighter to you with your right hand; then, shove him violently away with both hands; and-- almost in the same movementwhip an outside right hook up over his left shoulder-and down-so that your striking knuckles smash into his left jawbone or left temple (Figure 37). If the "sneaker" is delivered properly, your opponent will drop like a poleaxed steer. If he doesn't drop, he'll be so groggy that one or two shovels to the chin will finish him. Practice the "sneaker" until you can do it automatically. It's called a sneak punch because it's delivered on the break, when an opponent is not expecting it, and when he's off balance. Because of its surprise and explosiveness, the sneaker is one of the deadliest of punches.

The Heresy of Incarnation of the Cosmic Christ: Mathew Fox is a proponent of the Emergent Church movement, within the Episcopal Church. Mr. Fox states that the incarnation of the Cosmic Christ is for popular Christianity. He says the Cosmic Christ has not been born yet. Jesus, the Cosmic Christ, did not reach the full birth, because those who believe in him have barely brought forth the Cosmic Christ to the level required by mother earth. He says the mystical Christ must reach full maturity, but the Cosmic Christ must also reach this level. For him, there are many Christs. Mr. Fox says we are divine and demon. Yet, he claims we are all Cosmic Christs (2). Jesus warned, “For many shall come in my name, saying, I am the Christ; and shall deceive many” (Mark 24:5, KJV). References: 1. Vallalongo, Fred and Sally. "Matthew Fox Confronts Life Outside the Catholic Church: New Age." Toledo Blade. 3-28-1993, Section E, Pg. 6. 2. Fox, Matthew. The Coming of the Cosmic Christ. 1988, pp. 136-138, 2-5.

Straight right leads to the head are blocked by either (1) the extended left hand, or (2) by the hunched left shoulder. The extended left hand does the blocking if the lead is thrown at you when you are in normal punching position. Let your mate throw a right lead at you in slow motion. You step in and block or "smother" his right fist with the heel of your opened left hand before his right lead is well under way (Figure 51); and, at the same time, shoot your own straight right at his chin (Figure 52). If, however, his right lead is thrown at you when you are out of normal position-when, for example, you have permitted your left hand to drop down in an overzealous feint to the body-you must block with your left shoulder. You give your left shoulder a frantic, whirling hunch to protect your already snuggled chin. Thus, the blow thuds into your shoulder instead of into your face (Figure 53). You'll be tempted to use your right hand to help your left shoulder in that block. You'll be tempted to make a "shell defense" with shoulder and hand. But don't do it. You've got to keep that right hand in its normal position, ready to (1) guard against the possibility of a following left hook, and (2) smash a straight right counter to your opponent's solar plexus or chin.

Anger provides the No. 1 difference between a fist-fight and a boxing bout. Anger is an unwelcome guest in any department of boxing. From the first time a chap draws on gloves as a beginner, he is taught to "keep his temper"-never to "lose his head." When a boxer gives way to anger, he becomes a "natural" fighter who tosses science into the bucket. When that occurs in the amateur or professional ring, the lost-head fighter leaves himself open and becomes an easy target for a sharpshooting opponent. Because an angry fighter usually is a helpless fighter in the ring, many prominent professionals-like Abe Attell and the late Kid McCoy- tried to taunt fiery opponents into losing their heads and "opening up." Anger rarely flares in a boxing match. Different, indeed, is the mental condition governing a fist-fight. In that brand of combat, anger invariably is the fuel propelling one or both contestants. And when an angry, berserk chap is whaling away in a fist-fight, he usually forgets all about rules-if he ever knew any. That brings us to difference No. 2: THE REFEREE ENFORCES THE RULES IN A BOXING MATCH; BUT THERE ARE NO OFFICIALS AT A FIST-FIGHT. Since a fist-fight has no supervision, it can develop into a roughhouse affair in which anything goes. There's no one to prevent low blows, butting, kicking, eye-gouging, biting and strangling. When angry fighters fall into a clinch, there's no one to separate them. Wrestling often ensues. A fellow may be thrown to earth, floor, or pavement. He can be hammered when down, or even be "given the boots"- kicked in the faceunless some humane bystander interferes. And you can't count on bystanders. A third difference is this: A FIST-FIGHT IS NOT PRECEDED BY MATCHMAKING. In boxing, matches are made according to weights and comparative abilities. For example, if you're an amateur or professional lightweight boxer, you'll probably be paired off against a chap of approximately your poundage-one who weighs between 126 and 135 pounds. And you'll generally be matched with a fellow whose ability is rated about on a par with your own, to insure an interesting bout and to prevent injury to either. If you boast only nine professional fights, there's little danger of your being tossed in with a top-flighter or a champion.

Stand in the middle of a room with your feet even (on sideways line) and comfortably separated. Place your relaxed hands in easy guarding positions before each breast (Figure 18A). Turn your shoulders easily to your own left and, at the same time, extend your right fist to the chin of an imaginary opponent. As your right fist moves toward the opponent's chin, turn the fist so that it will land palm-down. Meanwhile, your left shoulder is well back, and your relaxed left hand is still in front of your left breast. Aim at left hand at the spot occupied by your extended right fist. Now, SUDDENLY WHIRL YOUR SHOULDERS TO YOUR RIGHT, AND LET THE SHOULDER-WHIRL SHOOT YOUR LEFT FIST STRAIGHT AT THE SPOT JUST OCCUPIED BY YOUR RIGHT FIST. Be sure you let the whirl shoot your fist instead of letting your projecting left arm pull your left shoulder around. As your left fist shoots at the imaginary target, turn your hand so that the fist lands palm-down. Meanwhile, your right hand returns to its relaxed guarding position before your right breast. Practice that shoulder whirl on the bag. Shoot one fist, then the other-bang!-bang!-bang!-bang!-until you are striking out with a rhythmic motion of the shoulders. Your shoulders should be swinging back and forth like the handle bars of a bicycle. Do not move the feet. Be sure that you explode each punch, MAKE CERTAIN THAT YOUR SHOULDERS ARE DRIVING THE PUNCHES; THAT THE PUNCHES ARE NOT PULLING THE SHOULDERS. That position-with the feet on an even line-is ideal for throwing straight punches from the whirl.

El futuro no es lo que era,

la identidad ha de ser un punto de partida, nunca de llegada.

Learn now and remember always that in fighting you cannot afford to give your body the luxury of a useless preliminary or preparatory movement before shooting a punch. In the first place, your target may be open for only a split-second, and you must take advantage of that opening like a bolt of lightning. Secondly, preliminary movements are give-aways-"tell-tales"-"telegraphs"-that treacherously betray to your opponent your own next action.

i think that evil is an idea created by others to avoid their own nature.

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TOLEDO: Everybody got style. Style ain’t nothing but keeping the same idea from beginning to end. Everybody got it.

The contrasting styles of communication represented by the managers from Toledo and their colleague from Japan are often referred to as low-context and high-context, respectively.

For these Islamic invaders were patrons of learning who transformed the part of the peninsula they inhabited, ushering in advanced agriculture, huge sophisticated towns, and seventeen universities (by way of comparison, there were two universities elsewhere in Europe). Their main towns, such as Toledo, became centres of excellence for medicine, architecture, agronomy, astrology and mathematics.

The most obvious influence of her home and its water gardens is perhaps the gloriette – the small structure which juts out into the water from the main castle at Leeds Castle, which may almost be a tribute to the famous garden of Ismail al-Mamun at Toledo. But also her garden at Westminster boasted a lead-lined pond, overlooked by an oriel window and filled by pipes from the river (hence running water rather than a static pond). There is also mention of a water channel at the Queen’s Garden at Wolvesey Castle in Winchester.

Sierra was the daughter of my mother's baby boy and the great hope for the second generation of Spruces to evolve out of the efforts of my mother's earlier struggles in Toledo, Ohio where she herself had endeavored to raise her four children as a single-parent mother.