Quotes - Page 482 | Just Great DataBase

Friend, that was not well spoken; you seem like one who is reckless. So it is that the gods do not bestow graces in all ways on men, neither in stature nor yet in brains or eloquence; for there is a certain kind of man, less noted for beauty, but the god puts comeliness on his words, and they who look toward him are filled with joy at the sight, and he speaks to them without faltering in winning modesty, and shines among those who are gathered, and people look on him as on a god when he walks in the city. Another again in his appearance is like the immortals, but upon his words there is no grace distilled, as in your case the appearance is conspicuous, and not a god even would make it otherwise, and yet the mind there is worthless.

Mas quem pode se lembrar da dor, uma vez que passa? Tudo o que dela resta é uma sombra, não na mente nem isso sequer, na carne. A dor marca você, mas de maneira profunda demais para que se possa ver. Longe dos olhos, longe do pensamento.

We lived, as usual, by ignoring. Ignoring isn’t the same as ignorance, you have to work at it. Nothing

Did you ever feel as though you had something inside you that was only waiting for you to give it a chance to come out? Some sort of extra power that you aren’t using-you know, like all the water that goes down the falls instead of through the turbines?

It seems to me a hard case to make slaves of those whom God and nature have made free.

– А мы стареем, – сказала Дэзи. – Были бы молоды, сразу бы пошли танцевать.

Mrs. Bennet was beyond the reach of reason, and she continued to rail bitterly against the cruelty of settling an estate away from a family of five daughters, in favour of a man whom nobody cared anything about.

–Creo que en todo individuo hay cierta tendencia a un determinado mal, a un defecto innato, que ni siquiera la mejor educación puede vencer.

For a while’ in Maycomb meant anything from three days to thirty years.

For my part,' said the little prince to himself, 'if I had fifty-three minutes to spare, I would take my time walking slowly towards the nearest fountain of water.

They made these improving remarks to one another, but Apollo leaned aside to say to Hermes:   Son of Zeus, beneficent Wayfinder, would you accept a coverlet of chain, if only you lay by Aphrodite’s golden side?   To this the Wayfinder replied, shining:   Would I not, though, Apollo of distances! Wrap me in chains three times the weight of these, come goddesses and gods to see the fun; only let me lie beside the pale-golden one!   The

Our big mistake was teaching them to read. We won't do that again.

I wish this story were different. I wish it were more civilized. I wish it showed me in a better light, if not happier, then at least more active, less hesitant, less distracted by trivia. I wish it had more shape. I wish it were about love, or about sudden realizations important to one's life, or even about sunsets, birds, rainstorms, or snow. Maybe it is about those things, in a way; but in the meantime there is so much else getting in the way, so much whispering, so much speculation about others, so much gossip that cannot be verified, so many unsaid words, so much creeping about and secrecy. And there is so much time to be endured, time heavy as fried food or thick fog; and then all at once these red events, like explosions, on streets otherwise decorous and matronly and somnambulent.

Suddenly one of these gypsies in trembling opal, seizes a cocktail out of the air, dumps it down for courage and moving her hands like Frisco dances out alone on the canvas platform.

quite

Perhaps it will be as well if you discourage his coming here so very often. At least, you should not remind your mother of inviting him." "As

The handful of people in this town who say that fair play is not marked White Only; the handful of people who say a fair trial is for everybody, not just us; the handful of people with enough humility to think, when they look at a Negro, there but for the Lord’s kindness am I.

    So spake the Son, and into terrour chang'd   His count'nance too severe to be beheld   And full of wrauth bent on his Enemies.

Well -- I'm an outsider to the end of my days!

Viva no presente, aproveite-o ao máximo, isso é tudo que você tem.