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B Quotes

Browse famous quotes beginning with B. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.

All B Quotes

“Bij traumatische stoornissen en zelfs bij stressgerelateerde ziektes is sprake van een ontbrekende inbeelding (vandaar het onbewuste karakter ervan), waarbij de patiënt niet in staat is onderliggende spanningen te verwoorden. Precies daarom zoeken die spanningen een andere uitlaatklep, bijvoorbeeld in conversiesymptomen. Ze kunnen ook aan de basis liggen van verscheidene ziektebeelden die op het eerste gezicht geen psychologische grond hebben.”

“Biju stepped out of the airport into the Calcutta night, warm, mammalian. His feet sank into dust winnowed to softness at his feet, ad he felt an unbearable feeling, sad and tender, old and sweet like the memory of falling asleep, a baby on his mother's lap. Thousands of people were out though it was almost eleven. He saw a pair of elegant bearded goats in a rickshaw, riding to slaughter. A conference of old men with elegant goat faces, smoking bidis. A mosque and minarets lit magic green in the night with a group of women rushing by in burkas, bangles clinking under the black and a big psychedelic mess of colour from a sweet shop. Rotis flew through the air as in a juggling act, polka-dotting the sky high over a restaurant that bore the slogan "Good food makes good mood". Biju stood there in that dusty tepid soft sari night. Sweet drabness of home - he felt everything shifting and clicking into place around him, felt himself slowly shrink back to size, the enormous anxiety of being a foreigner ebbing - that unbearable arrogance and shame of the immigrant. Nobody paid attention to him here, and if they said anything at all, their words were easy, unconcerned. He looked about and for the first time in God knows how long, his vision unblurred and he found that he could see clearly.”

“Bila kawan-kawan menhingatkan aku untuk beristirahat atau pensiun untuk memelihara diriku, aku menjawab "Pensiun? Aku tidak bisa. Aku tidak bisa menjalani sisa hidupku dalam keadaan damai dan bebas dari ketakutan akan pembunuhan. Tidak. Aku harus bekerja untuk bamgsaku sampai tarikan nafas terakhirku." Selain itu, kemana aku pergi? Aku tidak memiliki rumah sendiei. Tidak ada tanah. Tidak ada tabungan. Lebih dari sekali aku tidak mempunyai sisa uang untuk pengeluaran rumah tanggaku. Di sebuah negara, Duta Besar kami terpaksa membeli piyama untukku. Satu-satunya piyama presiden sudah sobek. Negara menyediakan tempat tinggal dengan cuma-cuma, bebas pemakaian listrik, empat buah mobil resmi dan tiga di garasi untuk tamu negara, BUKAN 15 mobil pribadi seperti diberitakan oleh sebuah majalah luar negeri, dan mereka membelikan pakaian seragamku. Tetapi akulah satu-satunya presiden di dunia yang tidak punya rumah sendiri. Baru-baru ini rakyatku menggalang dana untuk membangun sebuah gedung buatku, tapi di hati berikutnya aku melarangnya, ini bertentangan dengan pendirianku. Aku tidak mau mengambil sesuatu dari rakyatku. Aku justru ingin memberi mereka.”

“Bilba. His memory called forth an image, not of how he'd last seen her but of how he normally saw her. Wearing the armor Fili had made her, tall and strong, her sword clutched firmly in hand as she charged forth to battle the dark. Mahal, but she was beautiful. She was fire and ice, strength and stubbornness, grace and finesse. She was unwaveringly loyal, kind and compassionate to a fault and braver than anyone he'd ever known. If someone had asked him to describe the perfect child the resulting image he would have come up with wouldn't have held a candle to the person Bilba actually was. There was no comparison. She was as beautiful as Bella had been, inside and out. And he'd left her in Moria. Both of them. (DWALIN)”

“Bilba nodded and headed to Syrath, climbing onto his back with Fili behind her. They lifted off, the ground falling away behind them and she leaned against Fili, mentally picturing the final shards of the shell she'd built around herself falling away below her. She was neither the naïve girl she'd been before her mother's death or the well of never-ending hate she'd been after. She was Bilba, the daughter of Belladonna Took and Dwalin, son of Fundin. She was Orcrist, Orc Cleaver, protector of the weak and defenseless. She was the rider of Syrath, the partner and One of Fili, son of Vili, Crown Prince of Erebor. She was her father's daughter and her mother's light. She was more than what the orcs had tried to make her, more than what she'd made herself and more than the false foundations upon which she'd built her life. She would rebuild again and, this time, it wouldn't be on the false hope of a fictional father she'd created in her mind and it wouldn't be on the twisted lie given to her by hate. It would be based on truth, on what Fili and Syrath saw in her, what she was just starting to see in herself and what she saw when she looked at her father. It would be based on allowing people in, not shutting them out. And, this time, her foundation would be unshakable.”

“Bilba opened her eyes, and Fili was standing directly in front of her. The last thread broke. She'd spent years building walls around the hollow left by Ravenhill. There had always been cracks, even breaches over the years, but she'd endured, fortified them again and continued on. It wasn't until she'd opened her eyes again in Bag End that the walls had turned brittle, and it wasn't until she'd laid eyes on him once more that they'd started to fall. And it wasn't until that very moment, when his eyes sliced into her soul, that the final wall fell completely. And, just like that, the wound was open and the truth she'd tried so hard to ignore was pouring. It had always been there, seeping out through cracks, bleeding into her veins, poisoning her sleep and freezing her days. The truth, that the hollow inside her wasn't so hollow after all. It was full, always had been full, always would be full, and with one thing and one thing only. The knowledge of how deeply and irrevocably in love she was with this son of Durin. As much as that first day. As much as the last. Every breath, every beat of her heart cried out with the depth of her love for someone lost to her forever. All that love falling forever into emptiness, a void deeper than the one opened in her soul the moment she'd watched him die.”

“Bilbo was pointing to the power of the literacy test and understanding clause, which were tailor-made for societies that systematically refused to educate millions of their citizens and ensured that the bulk of the population remained functionally illiterate...for most of the twentieth century, many Jim Crow school systems did not have high schools for African Americans.”