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All B Quotes

“Belle is planning to host a series of salons," said Lio, appearing out of nowhere to fill her silence. It had been his first promise to her, in those wild days right after they broke the curse, when they talked feverishly about their most cherished dreams and whispered their deepest fears to each other. Back then, Belle's only fear had been her own ignorance. She had told him of her wish to travel to Paris and attend a salon herself, perhaps one that counted some of her favorite philosophes and encyclopédistes among its members. He had said her dream was toon small and that she herself should host one. The Mademoiselle de Vignerot smiled politely. "What will the subject be?" "Oh, everything," said Belle. Her enthusiasm elicited laughter, but she was entirely serious. The comte de Chamfort cleared his throat, his lips curling into a sneer. "That is very broad, madame. Surely you have a more specific interest? My parents used to attend the famous Bout-du-Banc literary salon in Paris, but that was a very long time ago." Belle gave him her best patient smile. "I don't wish to be limited, monsieur. My salons will invite scientists, philosophers, inventors, novelists, really anyone in possession of a good idea." The comte guffawed. "Why on earth would you do such a thing?" "To learn from them, monsieur. I would have thought the reason obvious." Marguerite snorted into her glass. Belle sipped her drink as Lio placed his hand on the small of her back. She didn't know if it was meant to calm her down or encourage her. "Whatever for?" the comte asked with the menacing air of a man discovering he was the butt of a joke. "Everything that is worth learning is already taught." "To whom?" Belle felt the heat rising in her cheeks. "Strictly the wealthy sons of wealthier fathers?" Some of Bastien's guests gasped, they themselves being the children of France's aristocracy, but Belle was heartened when she saw Marguerite smile encouragingly. "I believe that education is a right, monsieur, and one that has long been reserved exclusively for the most privileged among us. My salons will reflect the true reality." "Which is what, madame?" Marguerite prompted eagerly. Belle's heart rattled in her chest. "That scholarship is the province of any who would pursue it.”

“Belle was different now too, from the poor, provincial girl she had once been to a queen in her own right. She stood tall in a gown as golden as the sun. It hearkened back to the dress she had worn the night she dined and danced with the Beast, when he had shown her a vision of her father and let her go to him, despite the fact that leaving meant an eternity as a monster. It was hard to understand how much had changed since then, and how far they had come.”

“Bellegarrigue revient en France en février 1848, la veille des événements qui vont mener au renversement du régime monarchique de Louis-Philippe. Il participera à la révolte mais il demeurera très critique, pour ne pas dire sceptique, face à l'avenir de la révolution. Ainsi, à un jeune ouvrier en armes qu'il rencontre près de l'hôtel de ville et qui lui lance avec enthousiasme: "Cette fois-ci, on ne nous la volera pas notre victoire!" Bellegarrigue rétorque: "Ah, mon ami, la victoire, on vous l'a déjà volée. N'avez-vous pas nommé un gouvernement provisoire ?”

“BELLEZA POR TODOS LADOS Esperando en nuestro umbral, meramente necesitamos abrir la puerta. Salir para abrirnos al nuevo dentro de mí y de ti. La belleza deja entrar la luz mientras nos abre al Amor, amor, amor – amando dentro y tan afuera. El sol entibia nuestros corazones mientras embellece nuestra Alma Los cielos abiertos son brazos abiertos cuando nos rendimos a su abrazo. Mente abierta, abrazo de sol Las hojas caen y nos nutren a todos mientras el suelo se enriquece con el arraigo de Todo. Cada ciclo nos espera con un beso. Suculento y lujoso es cada momento, “Recíbeme”, dice el espíritu del aliento.”

“Belliydi, gündelik hayatın kalıplarına Nihal de girip çıkacaktı. Ona kişilik kazandıran tuhaf, aykırı yanlarını yontarak, yontulmasına izin vererek birer birer kalıpların biçimini alacaktı: Serbest yaşayan üniversite öğrencisi, kendini adamış âşık, militan, mezun, yüksek lisans öğrencisi, saygın bir kurumda uzman yardımcısı, uzman, evli, çocuk sahibi, Kartal, Pendik.”

“Bello era il mondo a considerarlo così: senza indagine, così semplicemente, in una disposizione di spirito infantile. Belli la luna e gli astri, belli il ruscello e le sue sponde, il bosco e la roccia, la capra e il maggiolino, fiori e farfalle. Bello e piacevole andar così per il mondo e sentirsi cosi bambino, così risvegliato, così aperto all'immediatezza delle cose, così fiducioso.”

“Bells Screamed all off key, wrangling together as they collided in midair, horns and whistles mingled shrilly with cries of human distress; sulphur-colored light ex-ploded through the black windowpane and flashed away in darkness. Miranda waking from a dreamless sleep asked without expecting an answer, “What is happening?” for there was a bustle of voices and footsteps in the corridor, and a sharpness in the air; the far clamour went on, a furious exasperated shrieking like a mob in revolt. The light came on, and Miss Tanner said in a furry voice, “Hear that? They’re celebrating . It’s the Armistice. The war is over, my dear.” Her hands trembled. She rattled a spoon in a cup, stopped to listen, held the cup out to Miranda. From the ward for old bedridden women down the hall floated a ragged chorus of cracked voices singing, “My country, ’tis of thee…” Sweet land… oh terrible land of this bitter world where the sound of rejoicing was a clamour of pain, where ragged tuneless old women, sitting up waiting for their evening bowl of cocoa, were singing, “Sweet land of Liberty-” “Oh, say, can you see?” their hopeless voices were asking next, the hammer strokes of metal tongues drowning them out. “The war is over,” said Miss Tanner, her underlap held firmly, her eyes blurred. Miranda said, “Please open the window, please, I smell death in here.”

“Bells theorem dealt a shattering blow to Einsteins position by showing that the conception of reality as consisting of separate parts, joined by local connections, is incompatible with quantum theory... Bells theorem demonstrates that the universe is fundamentally interconnected, interdependent, and inseparable.”

“Bellusdeo laughed. It was, for a moment, the only sound in the quiet of the fief’s night, and it was warmer and deeper than the lingering night chill. When her laughter faded, she glanced at Kaylin. “I was not like this before. I thought that the Shadows had not touched me.” She lowered her head a moment. Kaylin understood this, as well. “It seems so unfair,” she finally said. “Life is unfair. Which part of it pains you?” “We suffer, and it breaks something. When we win free—by gaining our name, by crossing a bloody bridge—we still live in a cage of scars. If life were fair, we would never have suffered what we suffered at all; having suffered it and survived, we’re still reacting to things that don’t exist anymore.” “But they did.” “Yes. I hate that they still define me.” Voice lower, she said to Bellusdeo, “I want that to change. I don’t know how to change it. But I’m willing to spend the rest of my life trying.” Shaking her head, she forced herself to smile; it was surprisingly easy. There was something about Bellusdeo that she liked. “Home is a strange thing.” “What do you mean?” “We lose it, and we think it’s gone forever. That’s how I felt the first time I lost mine. It took me years to understand that I could find—and make—another. I couldn’t do it on my own, though; I don’t think—for me—home exists in isolation.”

“BELONG God interrupts me now to say: My darling child, if you keep looking for a home within the arms of another, you will lose your home again and again. The same can be said of an actual home, by the way. Because everything that is given to you will eventually be taken back. That is the law, my dear. Nothing is here for you to keep. Even the ground beneath your feet can disappear. And so can your feet. God puts her hand now upon my trembling chest and says: You, my little one, have always shown a particular stubbornness. You demand permanence from things that cannot be made permanent, and perfection from people who are inherently flawed. This is typical of the anxious and the traumatized, but the impulse (like all doomed impulses) has never brought you the slightest bit of comfort or ease. That being the case, I wonder why you defend it so? God stops me fully in my path now and says: Child, you keep demanding impossible promises from those who cannot even take care of themselves. But what joy have you ever derived from being so dependent and unassured, so needy, lost, and afraid? You keep saying you want to count on somebody- but I say stop counting. You keep telling me you crave security because the world frightens you. But the world, my love, is what you are. Why not be secure in that? How could you ever lose anything, when you yourself are made of The Everything? You yourself, the bright and flickering moment of first creation. You yourself, the miraculous happening. You yourself, the very lifeblood of my being. God stops me once more to ask: Why do you keep disagreeing with me? Why do you keep up the fighting and begging? Why not befriend the great way of things, my little one? Why not accept the changing nature of nature itself? Why keep arguing against the comings an the goings, the births and the deaths, the gains and the losses? Why seek stability, when you are my song? Why not surrender? Why not belong?”

“Belonging is the innate human desire to be part of something larger than us. Because this yearning is so primal, we often try to acquire it by fitting in and by seeking approval, which are not only hollow substitutes for belonging, but often barriers to it. Because true belonging only happens when we present our authentic, imperfect selves to the world, our sense of belonging can never be greater than our level of self-acceptance.”

“Belonging starts with self-acceptance. Your level of belonging, in fact, can never be greater than your level of self-acceptance, because believing that you're enough is what gives you the courage to be authentic, vulnerable and imperfect. When we don't have that, we shape-shift and turn into chameleons; we hustle for the worthiness we already possess.”

“Belonging to a group can provide the child with a variety of resources that an individual friendship often cannot--a sense of collective participation, experience with organizational roles, and group support in the enterprise of growing up. Groups also pose for the child some of the most acute problems of social life--of inclusion and exclusion, conformity and independence.”

“Belonging to the Catholic Church gives your support to an organization that conceals and protects child rapists. Again, not as a few isolated incidents, but as a massive, institution-wide culture, a matter of policy even, that extends throughout the organization and reaches all the way to the top. Belonging to the Catholic Church - giving them money, letting them count you in their rolls, sending your children to their schools - gives this behavior your personal thumbs-up, and actively enables it to continue.”

“Belonging to the Dramatists Guild Council where, with my fellow dramatists, I can directly affect (and protect) the professional lives of all American Playwrights has always made me feel that I am returning as much to the theatre as I withdraw. Because only playwrights can ensure the well-being of playwrights. No one else will do it for us.”

“Belonging to the peer group is paramount. One's whole sense of identity is coming together in adolescence. If one has a good foundation prior to adolescence, the sense of self can be preliminarily defined. Identity is always social―one's sense of self needs to be matched by others: one's friends, teachers and parents. Adolescence is the time the brain (frontal lobes) is reaching full maturity. It is a time of ideals, of questioning and projecting into the future. An adolescent needs to have the discipline of mind the philosopher Thomas Aquinas called studiasitas. Studiasitas is a disciplined focus on studies and thinking, a kind of temperance of the mind. Its opposite is curiositas, a kind of mental wandering all over the place without limits. Healthy shame at this stage is the source of good identity, a disciplined focus on the future and on studious limits in pursuing intellectual interests.”

“Beloved children split in two. A child-with: part child, part autism. A part to love and a part to hate. A part to cultivate and a part to eliminate.. Such cultural orientation did not force [Karen] McCarron's .. hand in killing her child, but it nonetheless provides the necessary conditions .. to make this kind of violence possible and even—for those of us monitoring the headlines—normal.”