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Quote by John Calvin

“Unhappy they who weary themselves, as the world generally does, in wandering through many winding paths, neglecting the gospel, and pleasing themselves with wild romances, —“ever learning and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth,” or to find life! But happy they who have embraced the gospel, and whose attachment to it is steadfast; for this, beyond all doubt, is truth and life.”

Quote by John Calvin

Book:Commentaries on Ephesians
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Commentaries on Ephesians

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John Calvin
John Calvin

John Calvin (July 10, 1509 - May 27, 1564) was a significant figure in the 16th-century Protestant Reformation and the founder of the Calvinist branch of Protestantism. He was a theologian, philosopher, and Christian reformer whose theological ideas had a profound impact on subsequent generations. more

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“In gratitude to the Mossos d'Esquadra, the Police of Catalonia, and the Guardia Urbana for saving my life. In gratitude to former President Barack Hussein Obama, former President Donald John Trump, and President Joe Robinette Biden for their unwavering efforts in combating international crime organizations. In gratitude to the United States of America, the Central Intelligence Agency, and the Federal Bureau of Investigation for safeguarding my life. I dedicate this book to Roberto Saviano. In Memoriam of Timothy. I dedicate this book to all those who have gone Missing In Action and to all Prisoners Of War. I dedicate this book to the love of my life and her father.”

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“- I have to go. - No. You don't have to go. - Yes, I do. - No, you have to rest now. - I gotta go. - No, you don't have to go anywhere. You don't need to walk out this door and hire a Pakistani. - I have to go. I got other things to do. - F…g bullshit! We just woke up! And you are bleeding. I tie you to the gas pipe by the oven in the kitchen, girl. You do not go out on that door until you calm down Martina. - I am calm. - No, you need a few hours tied to the gas pipe to think some things over. Meditate a bit. - I want to go. - I don’t give a f..k what do you want right now, Martina, I am serious. You are wrong to think I won’t tie you to that f…g pipe if you don’t calm the f..k down and use your head finally. Apparently you do not know me so well after a year, baby. You are really stupid and you don’t see or hear it when I am telling you nicely. OK. You start to piss me off because you don’t realize it. You didn’t come home here to get Sabrina killed, do you understand? It is time for you now to get yourself together after this terrible year and begin to listen to me before I slap you only once Martina but the wall gives you the second one. Do you understand? Things only get done if I take care of them myself, haven’t you seen or realized that yet? Now, you need to listen to me just this once, Martina, and stay put with your bleeding hand, before I take you to the hospital for some stitches. Do you want stitches in your hand? Shots? - No. - Tough. So sit tight until I clean up this mess, and roll a joint. Here, have a Hennessy. - I don’t want it. - I repeat. I did not ask what do you want the first time in one year. I don’t give a f..k. You are listening to the smarter one. I told you to take a shot so that you calm down before you get yourself in jail for your stupidity thinking that you had to get Sabrina killed for any reason. Who told you this bullshit Martina? No hospital, no doctor, no medication, no stitches, then you need a drink right now. Alcohol. A bit. Internally. And externally. And shut up. Answer when I ask you something. Who told you this bullshit Martina that Sabrina has the club and she has to die? - Nobody. No one told me that. – You are lying. Who told you that Sabrina was your enemy, Martina? – Nobody. You. – Stop playing! I told you she is a f…g loser, a junkie, a bum, a liar, a thief. Do you want me to beat the answers, the living shit out of Adam, or Nicolas? Which one? Both?”

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“Who were these people who were Nico's friends at that club? It seemed like an Italian-Spanish coffeeshop. I'm not sure, it was quite far from downtown in a pretty hidden location. I don't remember the name of the club or the street, but if I drive from Urgell I can find it. I took a few pictures outside the reception area while we were waiting outside with Adam to be allowed to enter after being registered as club members. They took our entry into the almost empty private club very seriously, unlike my girlfriend selling weed in their dispensary at age 20, when I just gave her a job elsewhere. The pictures I took were of two skateboards hanging on the wall next to each other. They were spray-painted with smiling devilish faces, the comedy and tragedy masks. („Sock and buskin: The sock and buskin are two ancient symbols of comedy and tragedy. In ancient Greek theatre, actors in tragic roles wore a boot called a buskin (Latin cothurnus). The actors with comedic roles wore only a thin-soled shoe called a sock (Latin soccus).” – Source: Wikipedia) There was another skateboard hanging on the wall, showing the devil smiling with his eyes and teeth and horns only visible in the darkness of the artwork. I doubt they were Italians – they were rather Spaniards – but I never really met anyone else from there besides Nico and Carulo. But I trusted Carulo; he was different. Carulo was a known person in Catalonia. He was known to be the person who was sitting in the Catalan Parliament and rolled a joint and lit it up, smoking during a session as a protest against the law prohibiting marijuana growing and smoking in Spain. Nico told me when he introduced me to Carulo in the summer of 2013, almost a year earlier: “This is the guy you can thank for being able to smoke freely in Catalonia without the police bothering you. Tomas, meet Carulo.” He never really ordered from me if I had met him before. He had no traffic; his growshop was always closed. He was only smoking inside with his younger brother, who was always walking his bull terrier. Their white Bull Terrier was female, half the size of Chico, but she was kind of crazy; you could see in her eyes that she was not normal; she had mental issues. At least, looking into Carulo's eyes and his brother's eyes, I recognized the similar illness in their dog's eyes. In 2014, it had been over four years since I had been working with dogs in my secondary job interpreting Italian and travelling every fifth weekend. Additionally, Huns came to Europe with their animals, including their dogs. There are at least nine unique Hungarian dog breeds.”

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“(In Austria after VE Day) Sergeant Mercier...dressed in a full German officer's uniform, topped off with a monocle for his right eye. Someone got the bright idea to march him over to the company orderly room and turn him in at rifle point to Captain Speirs. Someone got word to Speirs before Mercier showed up. When troopers brought Mercier up to Speirs's desk, prodding him with bayonets, Speirs did not look up. One of the troopers snapped a salute and declared, "Sir, we have captured this German officer. What should we do with him?" "Take him out and shoot him," Speirs replied, not looking up. "Sir," Mercier called out, "sir, please, sir, it's me, Sergeant Mercier." "Mercier, get out of that silly uniform," Speirs ordered.”

BobAustriaSpeirs
Book:Band of Brothers: E Company, 506th Regiment, 101st Airborne from Normandy to Hitler's Eagle's Nest
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“Là in Kakania, in quello Stato incompreso, che ormai non esiste più e che in tante cose fu un modello ingiustamente sottovalutato, c’era anche velocità, ma non troppa. Quando si era all’estero e si ripensava a questo paese, sorgeva davanti agli occhi il ricordo di quelle sue strade bianche, larghe e comode, risalenti al tempo delle marce a piedi e dei postali, strade che si diramavano in tutte le direzioni, come le vie di trasmissione del regolamento, come i nastri del traliccio chiaro nelle uniformi dei soldati, e che cingevano le province con il braccio bianco-cartaceo dell’amministrazione. E che province! Ghiacciai e mari, il Carso e i campi di grano della Boemia, notti sull’Adriatico percorse dallo stridio inquieto dei grilli, e villaggi slovacchi dove il fumo usciva dai camini come da narici camuse e il villaggio se ne stava rannicchiato tra due collinette, quasi che la terra avesse dischiuso un poco le labbra per riscaldare il suo bambino. Naturalmente su quelle strade si incontravano anche automobili; ma non troppe. Ci si preparava anche là alla conquista dell’aria; ma senza eccedere in solerzia. Di quando in quando si faceva partire una nave per il Sudamerica o per l’Estremo Oriente; ma non troppo spesso. Non si ambiva al dominio del mondo, né dal punto di vista economico né da quello politico; si era al centro dell’Europa, dove si intersecano gli antichi assi del mondo; le parole “colonia” e “oltremare” risuonavano ancora come un qualcosa di remoto e di non sperimentato. Si viveva nel lusso, ma di certo non con l’estrema raffinatezza dei francesi. Si praticava lo sport, ma non da forsennati come gli anglosassoni. Si spendevano somme ingenti per l’esercito, ma solo quel tanto che bastava per esser certi di rimanere la penultima delle grandi potenze. Anche la capitale, pur essendo una delle città più grandi del mondo, era un po’ più piccola di tutte le altre, ma notevolmente più grande di quanto lo siano di solito le grandi città. E l’amministrazione di questo paese, illuminata, discreta, volta a smussare prudentemente tutti gli spigoli, era nelle mani della migliore burocrazia d’Europa, alla quale si poteva rimproverare un solo difetto: ritenere saccenteria e presunzione il genio e la geniale intraprendenza dei privati che non fossero legittimati a ciò dal privilegio di alti natali o di un incarico statale. E d’altronde, c’è forse qualcuno cui piaccia farsi comandare da chi non è autorizzato? In Kakania, poi, un genio passava sempre per uno sciocco, ma a differenza di quel che capitava dalle altre parti, non succedeva mai che uno sciocco passasse per un genio.”

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Book:the Man Without Qualities
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