Convencido En Quotes

#1. To love playthings well as a child, to lead an adventurous and honorable youth, and to settle when the time arrives, into a green and smiling age, is to be a good artis en life and deserve well of yourself and your neighbor. #Quote by Robert Louis Stevenson

#2. I was born on the eighteenth of December, 1935, in the town Bourg-en-Bresse, about thirty miles northeast of Lyon, the second of three sons of Jeanne and Jean-Victor Pepin. Weighing only two and one half pounds, I nearly died at birth. #Quote by Jacques Pepin

#3. As Bill Bryson wrote during the 2000 Olympics in Sydney: 'A lot of people don't like fencing because they don't understand the rules and terminology, but in fact it's quite simple. There are basically four thrusts, known as the cartilage, the chaise lounge, the aubergine, and the fromage anglais, and these in turn can be parried by four defensive feints – the pastiche, the penchant, the demi-tass...e, and the saumon en croute. Scoring is one point for a petit pois and two for a baguette. Points can equally be deducted for a foot fault or pied a terre, or for a type of illegal lunge known as a zut alors. #Quote by Richard Cohen

#4. A gaggle of sophomore girls wavered by in their heels, en route from Bartleby's to some house party. No two of their tube tops or flouncy miniskirts were precisely alike, in cut or in color, and these slight variations made the outfits look all the more carefully orchestrated as they linked arms and passed by, pretending not to listen. Schwartz tried to comfort himself with a long look at their ten slender thighs turned pink by the cold, the good odds he'd been between four or six of those thighs on oblivious drunken nights, but it was useless, the girls looked absurd to him now, and it no longer seemed that the universe contained an endless supply of anonymous pink thighs to which he could escape from his troubles. Pella would never dress like that. #Quote by Chad Harbach

#5. I," he said, a faint note of derision in his voice, "am the least favored scion of our ruling house, House Mara Sant." He was from Brontes, then. Which might explain the eyes…she thought again of certain differences, and suppressed a shudder. "I am a Prince of the Blood," he continued, sounding both embittered and proud, "third in line for the Dragon Throne, and grand nephew to the Emperor. Owing to a…political dispute, I am now also an exile. Presented with a choice between resigning my commission in the na-vy and leaving to become governor of a mining planet and staying to face my uncle's as-sassins…." He shrugged slightly, as if the choice were of no consequence.
"A…political dispute?"
"I gambled," he said bluntly. "I lost."
"You seem…sanguine," she remarked, surprise blunting the instinct to guard her tongue.
"He shouldn't have let me live."
That anyone could discuss their own murder with such cold calculation horrified her. He horrified her. She chewed her lip, digesting all that he'd told her: not merely a naval officer, but a prince - and a maverick one at that. She wondered what he could have done.
"So you see," he finished, "I'm no more free than you." He laughed, then, but without humor. "We can be prisoners together. I am en route to a wretched planet called Tarsonis to assume governorship and as you have no other, more pressing engagement, you are coming with me. #Quote by P.J. Fox

#6. May my enemies tremble if they still have time! (Que mes ennemis soient tremblants - S'ils en ont encore le temps!) #Quote by Charles De Leusse

#7. Alas, it is too true. I visited him this morning and found him en deshabille, clasping his brown. He seized on me and demanded a rhyme to some word which I have forgot. So I left him."
"Can no one convince Philippe that he is not a poet?" asked De Bergeret plaintively.
De Vangrisse shook his head. #Quote by Georgette Heyer

#8. Karina and Tho-orn, sitting in a tree-ee. Kay-eye-ess-ess-eye-en-gee. #Quote by John Flanagan

#9. What would happen if some invisible gas leak in the school cafeteria caused diminished brain activity in students? Can we safely assume district officials would evacuate the school until further notice? That parents would be up in arms? That media and lawyers would descend in droves to collect statements from the innocent victims? Can we assume that the community would not gather together en masse on Friday nights to eat hot dogs and watch the gas leak? #Quote by Steve Almond

#10. Eres es la explosión de rosas en un cuarto oscuro.
O el sabor inesperado y dulce en el té que tomamos en Starbucks
You are the moon that gives midnight its meaning.
And the explanation of water for all living things.
You are my compass,
A sapphire,
A bookmark,
A rare coin,
Un trompo,
Un canica,
De mi juventud.
Eres miel y canela
chocolate y jamoncillo.
You are rare spices
lost from a boat
That was once sailed by Cortez.
Eres un rosa, prensado en un libro
un anillo de perla de herencia
y un frasco de perfume rojo
que se encuentran cerca de las orillas del Nilo.

You are an old soul from an ancient place,
A thousand years and centuries and milleniums ago.
And you have traveld all this way…
Just so that I could love you…
And,
I do. #Quote by Jose N Harris

#11. If I cannot have a religion that will lead me to God, and place me en rapport with him, and unfold to my mind the principles of immortality and eternal life, I want nothing to do with it. #Quote by John Taylor

#12. I was sitting on top of a mountain of secrets so high that it was almost impossible to see the earth anymore. For one thing, now that I lived alone, I was living as a woman about half the time. I'd come home and go female and pay the bills and write and watch television, and then I'd go back to boy mode and teach my classes. I didn't venture out into the world much en femme, although I did get out now and then. It was unbelievably frightening. #Quote by Jennifer Finney Boylan

#13. Ain't you my chile? En does you know anything dat a mother won't do for her chile? Day ain't nothin' a white mother won't do for her chile. Who made 'em so? De Lord done it. En who made de niggers? De Lord made 'em. In de inside, mothers is all de same. De good lord he made 'em so. #Quote by Mark Twain

#14. Seeing his daughter slowly die, coupled with his infinite sadness and misery, the clockmaker becomes a recluse to the tower of the castle and begins to build something behind closed doors, not even his daughter knows what he's up to. For five years, she only sees him briefly at meal-times before locking himself up in the tower once again..."

"...Did he have a bathroom in the tower?"

"Yes, Jack. A big one! En-suite! Power-shower and spa! Where was I!? #Quote by Jonathan Dunne

#15. Mankind has never been in this position before. Without having improved appreciably in virtue or enjoying wiser guidance, it has got into its hands for the first time the tools by which it can unfailingly accomplish its own extermination. That is the point in human destinies to which all the glories and toils of men have at last led them. They would do well to pause and ponder upon their new responsibilities. Death stands at attention, obedient, expectant, ready to serve, ready to shear away the peoples en masse; ready, if called on, to pulverise, without hope of repair, what is left of civilisation. He awaits only the word of command. He awaits it from a frail, bewildered being, long his victim, now - for one occasion only - his Master. #Quote by Winston S. Churchill

#16. Chacun peut e prouver en soi ce double mouvement: de s ir de s'inte grer a' la socie te , besoin de se re aliser par soi-me me en dehors d'elle. We all have this double impulse within ourselves: the desire to integrate into society, and the need to fulfil ourselves outside of it, through our own efforts. #Quote by Nathalie Sarraute

#17. It may be that when the angels go about their task praising God, they play only Bach. I am sure, however, that when they are together en famille they play Mozart. #Quote by Karl Barth

#18. [M]en, though they know full well how much women are worth and how great the benefits we bring them, nonetheless seek to destroy us out of envy for our merits. It's just like the crow, when it produces white nestlings: it is so stricken by envy, knowing how black it is itself, that it kills its own offspring out of pique. #Quote by Moderata Fonte

#19. I dial her mum's number, then sit down cross-legged, facing the wall. When she comes on the line, she sounds uncertain, hesitant.
'Hey! Guess where I am?' I ask, my voice loud with false cheer.
'Rami told me. The Wellesly Hospital in Worthing. What's it like?'
'For a loony-bin it's actually quite decent,' I reply. 'I don't have Sky or an en-suite, and the menu isn't exactly à la carte, but you know...' I tail off.
There is a silence.
'Do you have your own room?' Jenna asks,
'Oh yeah, yeah. I have a lovely view of the sea between the bars of my window.'
She doesn't laugh.
'Have you started' -there is a pause as she searches for the right word -'threatment?'
'Yeah, yeah. We had group therapy today. Tomorrow we'll probably have art therapy - maybe I'll draw you a hourse and a garden. I know, perhaps they'll teach us to make baskets! Isn't that why they call us basket cases?'
'Flynn, stop,' Jennah softly implores.
'And we'll probably have music therapy the day after. Maybe I'll get to play the tambourine. Or the triangle. I've always wanted to play the triangle!'
'Flynn-'
'No, I'm serious! I'll ask for some manuscript paper and see if I can write a composition for tambourine and triangle. Then I can post if off to you to hand in for my next composition assignment.'
'Flynn, listen-'
'Hold on, hold on! I'm making a note to myself now: Find fellow insane musician and start composing the Flynn Laukonen #Quote by Tabitha Suzuma

#20. It is possible for a writer to make, or remake at least, for a reader, the primary pleasures of eating, or drinking, or looking on, or sex. Novels have their obligatory tour-de-force, the green-flecked gold omelette aux fines herbes, melting into buttery formlessness and tasting of summer, or the creamy human haunch, firm and warm, curved back to reveal a hot hollow, a crisping hair or two, the glimpsed sex. They do not habitually elaborate on the equally intense pleasure of reading. There are obvious reasons for this, the most obvious being the regressive nature of the pleasure, a mise-en-abîme even, where words draw attention to the power and delight of words, and so ad infinitum, thus making the imagination experience something papery and dry, narcissistic and yet disagreeably distanced, without the immediacy of sexual moisture or the scented garnet glow of a good burgundy. And yet, natures such as Roland's are at their most alert and heady when reading is violently yet steadily alive. (What an amazing word "heady" is, en passant, suggesting both acute sensuous alertness and its opposite, the pleasure of the brain as opposed to the viscera - though each is implicated in the other, as we know very well, with both, when they are working.) #Quote by A.S. Byatt

#21. Ce n'est gue' re que dans les asiles que les coquettes gardent avec ente tement une foi entie' re en des regards absents; normalement, elles re clament des te moins. Women fond of dress are hardly ever entirely satisfied not to be seen, except among the insane; usually they want witnesses. #Quote by Simone De Beauvoir

#22. I have a sweet tooth for reading, so books migrate to my zip code en mass. #Quote by Dawn Olivieri

#23. Through the book, I want to give something back to the community from which it sprang. My royalties for this book in Norway are being donated in full to the 'En av oss' (One of Us) foundation. The foundation's statutes allow for the money to be distributed to a wide range of causes nationally and internationally, in the areas of development, education, sport, culture and the environment. I have chosen to let those who contributed most to the book decide which causes will receive support. I think that would be in the spirit of their children. #Quote by Asne Seierstad

#24. Reading Mrs Gaskell's Life of Charlotte Brontë after Jane Eyre is a curious experience. The subject of the biography is recognisably the same person who wrote the novel, but the effect of the two books is utterly different. The biography is indeed depressing and painful reading. It captures better, I believe, than any any
subsequent biography the introverted and puritan pessimist side of Charlotte Brontë, and conveys the real dreariness of the world of privation, critical discouragement and limited opportunity that
so often made her complain in her letters that she felt marked out for suffering.
Jane Eyre, on the other hand, is exhilarating reading, partly because the reader, far from simply pitying the heroine, is struck by her resilience, and partly because the novel achieves such an imaginative transmutation of the drab. Unlike that of Jane Austen's Fanny Price or Dickens's Arthur Clennam or John Harmon, Jane
Eyre's response to suffering is never less than energetic. The reader is torn between exasperation at the way she mistakes her resentments and prejudices for fair moral judgements, and admiration at the way she fights back. Matthew Arnold, seeking 'sweetness and light' was repelled by the 'hunger, rebellion and rage' that he
identified as the keynotes of the novel. One can see why, and yet feel that these have a more positive effect than his phrase allows. The heroine is trying to hold on to her sense of self in a world that gives it little en #Quote by Ian Gregor

#25. Il n'est si homme de bien, qu'il mette à l'examen des loix toutes ses actions et pensées, qui ne soit pendable dix fois en sa vie.

(There is no man so good that if he placed all his actions and thoughts under the scrutiny of the laws, he would not deserve hanging ten times in his life.) #Quote by Michel De Montaigne

#26. As they walked through the bright noon, up the sandy road with the dispersing congregation talking easily again group to group, she continued to weep, unmindful of the talk.
"He sho a preacher, mon!! He didn't look like much at first, but hush!"
"He seed de power en de glory."
"Yes, suh. He seed hit. Face to face he seed hit."
Dilsey made no sound, her face did not quiver as the tears took their sunken and devious courses, walking with her head up, making no effort to dry them away even.
"Whyn't you quit dat, mammy?" Frony said. "Wid all dese people lookin. We be passin white folks soon."
"I've seed de first en de last," Dilsey said. "Never you mind me."
"First en last whut?" Frony said.
"Never you mind," Dilsey said. "I seed de beginnin, en now I sees de endin. #Quote by William Faulkner

#27. Murder, considered a crime when people commit it singly, is transformed into a virtue when they do it en masse. #Quote by Cyprian

#28. Ten years ago a book appeared in France called D'Une foi l'autre, les conversions a l'Islam en Occident. The authors, both career journalists, carried out extensive interviews with new Muslims in Europe and America. Their conclusions are clear. Almost all educated converts to Islam come in through the door of Islamic spirituality. In the middle ages, the Sufi tariqas were the only effective engine of Islamisation in Muslim minority areas like Central Asia, India, black Africa and Java; and that pattern is maintained today.

Why should this be the case? Well, any new Muslim can tell you the answer. Westerners are in the first instance seeking not a moral path, or a political ideology, or a sense of special identity - these being the three commodities on offer among the established Islamic movements. They lack one thing, and they know it - the spiritual life. Thus, handing the average educated Westerner a book by Sayyid Qutb, for instance, or Mawdudi, is likely to have no effect, and may even provoke a revulsion. But hand him or her a collection of Islamic spiritual poetry, and the reaction will be immediately more positive. It is an extraordinary fact that the best-selling religious poet in modern America is our very own Jalal al-Din Rumi. Despite the immeasurably different time and place of his origin, he outsells every Christian religious poet.

Islam and the New Millennium #Quote by Abdal Hakim Murad

#29. L'appetit vient en mangeant. Appetite comes by eating. Your appetite will come back, but it must be met halfway. You must want it to come. #Quote by Diane Setterfield

#30. Sobre la falda tenia
el libro abierto;
en mi mejilla tocaban
sus rizos negros;
no veiamos las letras
ninguno, creo;
mas guardabamos entrambos
hondo silencio.
Cuanto duro? Ni aun entonces
pude saberlo;
solo se que no se oia
mas que el aliento,
que apresurado escapaba
del labio seco.
Solo se que nos volvimos
los dos a un tiempo,
y nuestros ojos se hallaron,
y sono un beso.

Creacion de Dante era el libro,
era su Infierno.
Cuando a el bajamos los ojos,
yo dije, tremulo:
Comprendes ya que un poema
cabe en un verso?"
Y ella respondio, encendida:
Ya lo comprendo!"



On her skirt she had
an open book
on my cheek
her black locks of hair
we didn't see the letters
any of them, I think
though we kept between us
a deep silence

How much did it last? Not even then
I could know
I only know that I couldn't hear
anything more than her breath
that fastly went out
of her dry lips

I only know that we both
turned our sight at same time
and our eyes met the other
and a kiss was heard

The creation of Dante was the book
it was its Inferno
when we both turned down the eyes to it
I said, trembling:
'Do you already understand that a poem
fits in a verse?'
And she answered lightened up:
I understand! #Quote by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer

#31. A door onbust is always open to bustin', but ye can't onbust a door once you've busted en. #Quote by H.G.Wells

#32. We don't need a law against McDonald's or a law against slaughterhouse abuse
we ask for too much salvation by legislation. All we need to do is empower individuals with the right philosophy and the right information to opt out en masse. #Quote by Joel Salatin

#33. Righteous, I like that. Kinda fitting when you think about it. If we danced and shared music, we'd be too busy en-joy-in' life to start a war. #Quote by E.A. Bucchianeri

#34. Growing up, my imagined life as a musician was something along the lines of me lounging in a Learjet en route to a swelling outdoor amphitheatre on a dazzling summer's eve. #Quote by Kat Edmonson

#35. Where'd you learn to drive? (Steele)
Richard Petty's School of Driving. Had a great instructor there named Steven Norbert who showed me how to dog the shit out of en engine. Why? (Joe) #Quote by Sherrilyn Kenyon

#36. She'd been in love with the way Todd made her feel about herself. Evan had been her best friend, but his treatment of her, in a way, had been a rejection. Every single day for two damn years, she'd felt rejected by him. It was no wonder her self-esteem had been so beaten down she'd fal en for the first sweet-talker to come along. #Quote by Cherrie Lynn

#37. The foundation of the search for truth must be the ability to notice one's own ignorance. Acknowledging ignorance is a beautiful feature that science and spirituality hold in common. BUMMER rejects it.

Lanier, Jaron. Ten Arguments for Deleting Your Social Media Accounts Right Now (Posición en Kindle1755-1757). Henry Holt and Co.. Edición de Kindle. #Quote by Lanier, Jaron

#38. Maybe someone was reading her right now, and if she looked up, she would see their eyes staring down at her, following her every move. Maybe someone was reading the reader. #Quote by Traci Chee

#39. All the eggs a woman will every carry form in her ovaries while she is a four-month-old foetus in the womb of her mother. This means our cellular life as en egg begins in the womb of our grandmother. Each of us spent five months in our grandmother's womb, and she in turn formed within the womb of her grandmother. We vibrate to the rhythms of our mother's blood before she herself is born, and this pulse is the thread of blood that runs all the way back through the grandmothers to the first mother. #Quote by Layne Redmond

#40. A poem, being an instance of language, hence essentially dialogue, may be a letter in a bottle thrown out to the sea with the-surely not always strong-hope that it may somehow wash up somewhere, perhaps on the shoreline of the heart. In this way, too, poems are en route: they are headed towards. Toward what? Toward something open, inhabitable, an approachable you, perhaps, an approachable reality. Such realities are, I think, at stake in a poem. #Quote by Paul Celan

#41. It might sound like a contradiction at first, but it isn't; collective processes make the best sense when participants are acting as individuals.

Lanier, Jaron. Ten Arguments for Deleting Your Social Media Accounts Right Now (Posición en Kindle670-671). Henry Holt and Co.. Edición de Kindle. #Quote by Lanier, Jaron

#42. Because it is written by a nineteenth-century American, and because of its closeness to the twentieth century, The Portrait of a Lady foregoes Victorian affirmations. The price it pays, however (together with several twentieth-century novels) is that it eventually leaves the reader, along with its heroine, 'en Vair' amid its self-reflections. #Quote by Ian Gregor

#43. Thus anxiety invited appeasement by magical sacrifice: human sacrifice led to man-hunting raids: one-sided raids turned into armed combat and mutual strife between rival powers. So ever larger numbers of people with more effective weapons were drawn into this dreadful ceremony, and what was at first an incidental prelude to a token sacrifice itself became the 'supreme sacrifice,' performed en masse. this ideological aberration was the final contribution to the perfection of the military megamachine, for the ability to wage war and to impose collective human sacrifice has remained the identifying mark of all sovereign power throughout history. #Quote by Lewis Mumford

#44. J'ai un but, une tâche, disons le mot, une passion. Le métier d'écrire en est une violente et presque indestructible."

("I have an object, a task, let me say the word, a passion. The profession of writing is a violent and almost indestructible one.")

[Letter to Jules Boucoiran, 4 March 1831] #Quote by George Sand

#45. The problem isn't any particular technology, but the use of technology to manipulate people, to concentrate power in a way that is so nuts and creepy that it becomes a threat to the survival of civilization.

Lanier, Jaron. Ten Arguments for Deleting Your Social Media Accounts Right Now (Posición en Kindle528-529). Henry Holt and Co.. Edición de Kindle. #Quote by Lanier, Jaron

#46. My name is Lev," said Lev.
"My name is Lydia," said the woman. And they shook hands, Lev's hand holding the scrunched-up kerchief and Lydia's hand rough with salt and smelling of egg, and then Lev asked, "What are you planning to do in En gland?" and Lydia said, "I have some interviews in London for jobs as a translator."
"That sounds promising."
"I hope so. I was a teacher of English at School 237 in Yarbl, so my language is very colloquial."
Lev looked at Lydia. It wasn't difficult to imagine her standing in front of a class and writing words on a blackboard. He said, "I wonder why you're leaving our country when you had a good job at School 237 in Yarbl?"
"Well," said Lydia, "I became very tired of the view from my window. Every day, summer and winter, I looked out at the schoolyard and the high fence and the apartment block beyond, and I began to imagine I would die seeing these things, and I didn't want this. I expect you understand what I mean? #Quote by Rose Tremain