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A Quotes

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All A Quotes

“Aching familiar in a way that made me wish I was still eight. Eight was before death or divorce or heartbreak. Eight was just eight. Hot dogs and peanut butter, mosquito bites and splinters, bikes and boogie boards. Tangled hair, sunburned shoulders, Judy Blume, in bed by nine thirty.”

“aching to touch stars… i hope you keep it close… no matter what. if it's imprinted on you, like soul memory, then i hope you keep it so. close. and that you hold on tight no matter what. there will be little traces of someday in the not-quite-yet, and i hope you feel them. and that you can find a way to trust them. even if weary sets in and uncertain gets loud, i hope you can be gentle with that doubt. and that something in you knows that it will pass. and that it doesn't mean give up. i hope you never truly feel give-up. but if you do, then i hope that some. how. that the fight in you finds its teeth and that heart of yours finds its fire and that you can reach deep down into that part of you that is aching to touch stars and just find a way to stay dreaming no. matter. what. i hope you can hold on and hold on and hold on… until you can feel every last bit of your hope holding you right back.”

“Acho que deve haver um equilíbrio entre a generosidade e o ceticismo. Nenhum deles deve levar a melhor de nós. Devemos sempre estar dispostos a ajudar, mas com tanto conhecimento sobre o assunto quanto possível. Porque com a cega generosidade podem vir, infelizmente, parasitas que dela se aproveitam. Com o cego ceticismo é quem mais necessita que fica a perder.”

“Acho que o seu bisavô, branco e muito, muito pobre nunca foi torturado, Betinho. Amarrado a um tronco. Surrado. Marcado com ferro quente. Nunca teve um dente arrancado à força nem recebeu sal e vinagre nas feridas abertas pelo chicote. O seu bisavô branco e pobre não foi separado da família. E, pelo que me consta, nunca trabalhou sem receber pagamento nem dormiu numa senzala. Um homem branco podia sim ser mal remunerado. Mas nunca escravizado. Podia ficar desempregado, sem ter uma colherada de farinha ou um gole d'água pra oferecer aos seus. Mas era livre. A seca e a miséria podiam alcançar um homem branco e pobre como o seu avô, que lamentaria a sua falta de sorte. Sem algemas nos pulsos ou grilhões no pescoço. Se a doença corroesse a carne de um homem branco, ele seria consumido livremente. A loucura podia tomar conta de um homem branco. Ele seria um homem louco. Mas livre. Ele sempre seria livre. Uma mulher branca podia ser muito, muito pobre. Nem por isso teria os filhos arrancados dos seus braços diretamente para as mãos dos compradores. Por miserável que fosse uma mulher branca, não seria obrigada a oferecer o leite do seu peito ao filho de outra, enquanto o seu próprio filho era privado de ser alimentado. E mesmo se fosse tão pobre a ponto de ter os seios secos, não seria impedida de segurar a sua cria junto ao corpo, procurando dar consolo pra ela. Uma pessoa branca e muito pobre podia trabalhar sem descanso, economizando moedas até se tornar próspera. E, se construísse um império, deixaria de ser pobre, tornando-se somente rica. Já um homem negro, mesmo que enriquecesse, continuaria sendo um homem negro. Ainda hoje, Betinho, se um negro, no auge do desespero, furta um pão, a notícia se espalha: “Aquele negro é um ladrão!”. No entanto, se é um branco que rouba, o comentário se modifica: “Aquele homem cometeu um delito”. Então, sua mãe branca, neta do seu bisavô branco, não sabe do que está falando. É o que eu acho.”

“Acho que vocês me desprezam. A meu ver, vocês são uma família que construiu uma casa. E das salas aconchegantes da casa estão admirando uma chuva torrencial. Sãos e salvos ali dentro, a chuva não afeta seu conforto. Vocês estão secos e aquecidos. Desfrutando o que a vida tem de melhor. Chova o quanto chover, seu bem-estar não será afetado. Já eu estou debaixo dessa tempestade que vocês acham que nunca os atingirá. Me transformei nela, eu sou essa tormenta da qual vocês procuram abrigo. Vocês construíram essa casa justamente para me evitar. Não venham aqui me dizer que não tenho um papel a desempenhar na vida dos humanos.”

“Achteraf werd de vraag gesteld of het deontologisch wel kan dat politici die beslissen over miljoenenprojecten ingaan op een uitnodiging van diegene die bijhorende winsten opstrijkt. Dat is niet de juiste vraag. Vanzelfsprekend zou het antwoord negatief moeten zijn, maar 't Fornuis toonde vooral dát het gebeurt, dat het om een uitgelezen kransje 'vrienden van het vastgoed' gaat en dat die relaties zeer nauw zijn.”

“Acid filled Sara’s mouth. It wasn’t fair. That’s what Sara wanted to say. To scream at the top of her lungs. It just wasn’t fair. Lena wasn’t strong. She would bend, not break. She would recover from this tragedy the same easy way she recovered from every other tragedy before. Even if she lost Jared, Lena would always know what it felt like to have his child growing inside of her. She could always hold her baby’s hand and think of holding Jared’s. She could see her child laugh and learn and grow and play sports and do school projects and graduate from college and Lena would always, always remember her husband. She would see Jared in her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. On her deathbed, she would find peace in the knowledge that they had made something beautiful together. That even in death, they would both go on living. “Sara,” Faith said. “What’s happening here?” Sara wiped her eyes, angry that she was back in the same dark place she’d started at this morning. “Why does everything come so damn easy to her?” She struggled to speak. Her throat clenched around every word that wanted to come out of her mouth. “Everything just opens up, and she always walks through unscathed and—” Sara had to stop for breath. “It’s just so easy for her. She always has it so goddamn easy.”

“Acid Salts have the Power of Destroying the Blewness of the Infusion of our Wood [lignum nephreticum], and those Liquors indiscriminatly that abound with Sulphurous Salts, (under which I comprehend the Urinous and Volatile Salts of Animal Substances, and the Alcalisate or fixed Salts that are made by Incineration) have the virtue of Restoring it.”

“Ackerfurchen. Zäune. Das Kreuz in der Schnapsflasche. Polenta für die Schwiegereltern. Vijarac. Gavrilo und Großmutter - jetzt auch Sretoje - erzählten von all dem, auch um zu gedenken. Sie legten für ihre Toten eine gute Geschichte ein. Der Geschmack des Brunnenwassers ist aus Sprache gemacht. Die Sprache wird weiterfließen. Einer überleben, um zu erzählen. Um zu sagen: Mein Leben ist unbegreiflich.”

“Acknowledge and accept that there will be chaotic times while being on your raft from being lost in true freedom. Engulfed by darkness at sea, we are consumed by a great loneliness that has consistently existed even when people surrounded us, and that is when we must throw all that is heavy into the water, and float independently through to the present.”

“Acknowledge others, and you will be acknowledged. Welcome others, and you will be welcomed. Cherish others, and you will be cherished. Esteem others, and you will be esteemed. Despise others, and you will be despised. Reject others, and you will be rejected. Ignore others, and you will be ignored. Disregard others, and you will be disregarded. Hear others, and you will be heard. Understand others, and you will be understood. Help others, and you be will be helped. Love others, and you will be loved.”

“Acknowledge that some moments are just plain awful―desperate and gloomy and painful and miserable and nothing at all but anguish. No truthful, cheerful thought in the world will fix it. So let me cry awhile. Don't try to find a sunbeam where a shroud of darkness encloses me. Let me mourn. Then, after the storm, when the tears have run dry and my eyes choose to open, I will look for your rainbow of hope.”

“Acknowledge the complexity of the world and resist the impression that you easily understand it. People are too quick to accept conventional wisdom, because it sounds basically true and it tends to be reinforced by both their peers and opinion leaders, many of whome have never looked at whether the facts support the received wisdom. It's a basic fact of life that many things "everybody knows" turn out to be wrong.”