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Quote by Maka

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Maka

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“Getta via il ciarpame, amico! Che la tua barchetta sia leggera, e porti soltanto ciò di cui hai bisogno - una casa modesta e dei piaceri semplici, un paio d’amici degni di questo nome, qualche persona da amare e che ti ami, un gatto, un cane, un paio di pipe, abbastanza da mangiare e da metterti addosso, e un po’ più di abbastanza da bere, perchè la sete è cosa pericolosa. Troverai che la tua barca si guida più facilmente e che sarà meno soggetta a rovesciarsi. Se poi si rovescia, che importa? La buona, la semplice mercanzia resiste all’acqua. Avrai tempo di pensare, come anche di lavorare. Tempo di bere nel sole della vita - tempo di ascoltare la musica eolia che il vento di Dio trae dalle corde dei cuori umani che ci stanno d’intorno - tempo di...”

“Remammo tutto quel giorno sotto la pioggia, e fu una fatica melanconica. Facemmo le viste, in principio, di divertirci un mondo. Dicemmo ch’era un diversivo, e che ci piaceva vedere il fiume sotto tutti i suoi diversi aspetti. Non potevamo aspettarci d’aver sempre sole, né l’avremmo voluto. E poi la natura era bella anche quando piangeva.”

“The fact that it took me eleven years to become an overnight success should also reassure him. It’s not my fault success has brought my unseemly arrogance and braggadocio to the surface: I was always thus tainted, but when you’re poor and unsuccessful it’s just vulgar ostentation to flaunt such character flaws: success wears very badly on me: I’m a sore winner. But those who have known and loved me through the Dismal Swamps of all the lies that are my life will testify that it is not merely the acquisition of pocket money that has made me an elitist. The seeds were always present. Only becoming a Writer of Stature has made them flower.”

“He had been the recipient, he now gratefully acknowledged, of a rare and precious gift. In demanding the hand of a woman he neither understood nor was capable of knowing, he had instead received from her the chance to see himself and the opportunity to become a better man. And he had changed. He knew he had. He knew that he was not that man stalking angrily back to his chambers in Rosings Hall. What had happened to him in those intervening months? He was not sure; he could offer no complete explanation, but the man who had opened Rosings's doors, already prepared to write an angry letter, was a stranger, a man who had been walking through his entire life asleep. But now, he had awoken.”