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A Quotes

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All A Quotes

“Anmut sparet nicht noch Mühe, Leidenschaft nicht noch Verstand, daß ein gutes Deutschland blühe, wie ein andres gutes Land. Daß die Völker nicht erbleichen wie vor einer Räuberin, sondern ihre Hände reichen uns wie andern Völkern hin. Und nicht über und nicht unter andern Völkern wolln wir sein, von der See bis zu den Alpen, von der Oder bis zum Rhein. Und weil wir dies Land verbessern, lieben und beschirmen wir’s. Und das liebste mag’s uns scheinen so wie andern Völkern ihrs.”

“Ann Coulter is, at this point, a known quantity (especially after the raghead remarks last year), and she delivered what they knew she would deliver. Where were the complaints in advance of her appearance? There were none that I am aware of, and this is just damage control. An open letter isn't going to solve the real problem with the conservative movement. And hell, the authors can't even write this letter without sniping at liberal websites. Ann Coulter is not the problem - she is a symptom of the problem.”

“Ann Deveriá la miró -pero con una mirada para la que mirar es ya una palabra demasiado fuerte –mirada maravillosa que es ver sin preguntarse nada, ver y basta –algo como dos cosas que se tocan– los ojos y la imagen –una mirada que no toma sino que recibe, en el silencio más absoluto de la mente, la única mirada que de verdad podría salvarnos –virgen de cualquier pregunta, aún no desfigurada por el vicio de saber –única inocencia que podría prevenir las heridas de las cosas cuando desde fuera penetran en el círculo de nuestro sentir –ver –sentir –porque no sería más que un maravillosos estar delante, nosotros y las cosas, y en los ojos recibir el mundo entero –recibir –sin preguntas, incluso sin asombro –recibir –sólo –recibir –en los ojos– el mundo.”

“Ann didn't move. There was no use; her mother had seen her. She could try to hide the flowered plates but that wouldn't be any use either. Her mother had already been in the cabin and seen the open chest. Ann waited, her heart pounding and her eyes on the ground. When she finally looked up, her mother was standing quietly beside her and looking at the tea party table. Ann held her breath, but for some reason her mother didn't look cross at all. Instead, there was the same kind of lovingness in her face as she had when she rocked the baby after he had been crying for a long time. Then Mrs. Hamilton turned to Ann and smiled. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Jones," she said. "I hope I am not too late for tea. And is this your daughter?" Mrs. Hamilton nodded toward Semanthie. "My, how she's grown!”

“Ann Druyan suggests an experiment: Look back again at the pale blue dot of the preceding chapter. Take a good long look at it. Stare at the dot for any length of time and then try to convince yourself that God created the whole Universe for one of the 10 million or so species of life that inhabit that speck of dust. Now take it a step further: Imagine that everything was made just for a single shade of that species, or gender, or ethnic or religious subdivision. If this doesn’t strike you as unlikely, pick another dot. Imagine it to be inhabited by a different form of intelligent life. They, too, cherish the notion of a God who has created everything for their benefit. How seriously do you take their claim?”

“Ann enjoyed baking and loved to cook, but the times when she didn’t cook, we would go out for a pizza. As far as I was concerned, the best pizzas were made in Portland, and the best Italian Grinders came from Brunswick. With all of the carbohydrates the two of us consumed, I have no idea why we didn’t bloat out and get fat, but youth was still on our side. Besides, we did get enough exercise.”

“Ann enjoyed baking and loved to cook, but the times when she didn’t cook, we would go out for a pizza. As far as I was concerned, the best pizzas were made in Portland, and the best Italian Grinders came from Brunswick. With all of the carbohydrates the two of us consumed, I have no idea why we didn’t bloat out and get fat, but youth was still on our side. Besides, we did get enough exercise. The cardboard box I had struggled with in the blizzard was now defrosted. The ice had melted and the cardboard was wet and soggy, however the ingredients were still intact. Even the large bags of sugar and flour were still dry. Ann didn’t need a recipe and mixed the ingredients together professionally, using a large wooden spoon. She worked in the butter and thinned the mixture with the small containers of milk I had brought. Before long, the mixture was of the right consistency. She then poured the batter into a deep metal pan, and baked it in the oven at 350 degrees for 25 or 30 minutes. It’s amazing how serious the two of us could be when it came to getting this kind of important work done. While we were at it, we also made chocolate chip and oatmeal cookies. Although Ann did most of the work, I was the hero when I returned to the ship with all the goodies. There was something to be said for having a beautiful girlfriend who also knew how to bake delicious cookies!”

“Ann put the oven to heat. She washed the lamb under the tap, turning it around to clean the entire leg. Then it was dried with a paper towel, stretched out on the cutting board to be hammered flat, and rubbed with salt and rosemary she took from the kitchen window. She waited for the oven to reach two hundred. The cleaned scent of the meat and the clatter of the water in the skink, the branches of rosemary, the dogs finding each other’s ears in the evening, the children being called indoors, servants standing on the road for the Indian bus, and the rising heat of the oven against the remaining heat of the day made her aware of her own happiness. This happiness was like the sea wind when the temperature of the water and the land reversed and everything was free in new darkness.”

“Ann Richards on How to Be a Good Republican: 1. You have to believe that the nation's current 8-year prosperity was due to the work of Ronald Reagan and George Bush, but yesterday's gasoline prices are all Clinton's fault. 2. You have to believe that those privileged from birth achieve success all on their own. 3. You have to be against all government programs, but expect Social Security checks on time.”

“Anna and I did not make love. I don't remember why. Maybe we didn't need to. She might have been afraid, although I doubt she was afraid of much. She'd been a midwife before she opened a studio; she'd held life in her hands, like a wire from a galvanic cell. Maybe death was too strong in me for an act so inspirited with life. Although I sometimes think that death is what gives lovemaking its desperate and terrible joy.”

“Anna gave Charles a shy kiss on the cheek and strolled out of the room without a backward glance. Until she reached the doorway, and then, in full view of the curious who'd had the courage or discourtesy to linger in the auditorium after he'd dismissed them, she kissed her palm and blew it to him. And despite... or because of their audience, he caught it in one hand, and pulled the hand to his heart. Her smile dropped away, and the expression in her eyes would feed him for a week. And the expressions on the faces of the wolves who knew Charles, or knew his reputation, would make him laugh as soon as no one was watching.”

“Anna held up a small black-bound memorandum book. Cordelia hadn’t even seen her retrieve it. They strode out of the bedroom, Anna waving the book over her head in triumph. “This,” she announced, “will hold the answers to all our questions.” Matthew looked up, his eyes fever-bright. “Is this your list of conquests?” “Of course not,” Anna declared. “It’s a memorandum book… about my conquests. That is an important but meaningful distinction.” Anna flipped through the book. There were many pages, and many names written in a bold, sprawling hand. “Hmm, let me see. Katherine, Alicia, Virginia—a very promising writer, you should look out for her work, James—Mariane, Virna, Eugenia—” “Not my sister Eugenia?” Thomas nearly upended his cake. “Oh, probably not,” Anna said. “Laura, Lily… ah, Hypatia. Well, it was a brief encounter, and I suppose you might say she seduced me.…” “Well, that hardly seems fair,” said James. “Like someone solving a case before Sherlock Holmes. If I were you I would feel challenged, as if to a duel.” Matthew chuckled. Anna gave James a dark look. “I know what you’re trying to do,” she said. “Is it working?” said James. “Possibly,” said Anna, regarding the book. Cordelia couldn’t help but wonder: Was Ariadne’s name in there? Was she considered a conquest now, or something—someone—else?”

“Anna is the only proof I have that I was born into this family. Instead of dropped off on the doorstep by some Bonnie and Clyde couple that ran off into the night. On the surface, we’re polar opposites. Under the skin, though, we’re the same: people think they know what they’re getting, and they’re always wrong. (Jesse)”

“Anna Journey, in her new book of poems, Vulgar Remedies, creates an alchemical self whose shimmering limbic / alembic lyrics distill the mysterious terrors of childhood, the dangerous passions of adults, into her own honey-dusk 'voodun': protective, purified to gold. Poetry is always a time machine: here we are invisible travelers to a bewitched past, a beautifully occluded future. These poems are erotic, vertiginous, revelatory, their dazzling lyric force reflecting profound hermetic life.”

“Anna lifted her chin, “Forgive my interruption, Mr. President, but I am Assistant Matron Anna Blanc, and I’ve come about the singsong girls.” She remembered herself and bowed. No one bowed back. They simply stared at her. After a moment, Tom Foo Yuen said, in his tar-thick accent, “You are a brave, strange woman, Matron Blanc.” Anna had heard that before.”