Quotes - Page 304 | Just Great DataBase

But I am bound upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears do scald like moulten lead.

Eu gostaria de não ter vergonha. Gostaria de ser sem vergonha. Gostaria de ser ignorante. Então eu não saberia o quanto era ignorante.

I was feeling sort of lousy. Depressed and all. I almost wish I was dead.

Yapmayanlar, yakmalıdırlar. Bu tarih kadar ve gençlerin suç işlemesi kadar eskidir.

Look at the high and the low, all the world over, and it's the same story,—the lower class used up, body, soul and spirit, for the good of the upper.

Tráigame un cirujano, tengo herido el cerebro.

There were stories in the newspapers, of course, corpses in ditches or the woods, bludgeoned to death or mutilated, interfered with, as they used to say, but they were about other women, and the men who did such things were other men. None of them were the men we knew.

Bir adama birkaç dize şiir ver, sonunda kendini yaratılmışların efendisi sansın...

GLOUCESTERNow, good sir, what are you?EDGARA most poor man made tame to fortune's blows,Who by the art of known and feeling sorrowsAm pregnant to good pity.

I mean how do you know what you're going to do till you do it?

Is there anything in it glorious and dear for a nation, that is not also glorious and dear for a man? What is freedom to a nation, but freedom to the individuals in it?

I'll teach you differences.

Did I really wear bathing suits, at the beach? I did, without thought, among men, without caring that my legs, my arms, my thighs and back were on display, could be seen. Shameful, immodest.

Ne govorim o stvarima, gospodine. Govorim o značenju stvari. - Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

And as he plucked his cursed steel away,Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it,As rushing out of doors, to be resolvedIf Brutus unkindly knocked or no.

Alguém deve deixar alguma coisa para trás quando morre, dizia o meu avô. Um filho, ou um livro, ou um quadro, ou uma casa, ou uma parede construída ou um par de sapatos feitos à mão. Ou um jardim plantado. Alguma coisa em que a nossa alma tenha para onde ir quando morremos e, quando as pessoas olharem para essa árvore ou flor que plantámos, nós estamos lá. Não interessa aquilo que fazemos, dizia ele, desde que mudemos alguma coisa antes de lhe tocarmos e a transformarmos numa coisa que seja semelhante a nós depois de afastarmos as mãos. A diferença entre o homem que apenas apara relvados e um verdadeiro jardineiro está no toque, dizia ele. O cortador de relva pode não ter lá estado; o jardineiro ficará lá uma vida inteira.

He's back! He's back!""Who's back?" shouted someone else. "Who is it?""What does it mean? What should we do?""Are we on fire?""Get up and run, damn it! Everybody get up and run!

I wandered through various public rooms, glory below, gloom above: for the look of lust always is gloomy; lust is never quite sure--even when the velvety victim is locked up in one's dungeon--that some rival devil or influential god may still not abolish one's prepared triumph.

...otherwise, one of you, most likely the man, would go wandering off on a trajectory of his own, taking his addictive body with him and leaving you with bad withdrawal, which you could counteract by exercise. If you didn't work it out it was because one of you had the wrong attitude. Everything that went on in your life was thought to be due to some positive or negative power emanating from inside your head.

With a heavy heart I left the house and walked through the spotted blaze of the sun to my car. Two other cars were parked on both sides of it, and I had some trouble squeezing out.