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C Quotes

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All C Quotes

“Cam wiped all expression from his face as he discovered he had been seated next to the vicar’s wife, whom he had met on previous visits to Stony Cross Park. The woman was terrified of him. Whenever he looked at her, tried to talk to her, she cleared her throat incessantly. Her sputtery noises brought to mind a tea kettle with an ill-fitting lid. No doubt the vicar’s wife had heard one too many stories of Gypsies stealing children, placing curses on people, and attacking helpless females in a frenzy of uncontrolled lust. Cam was tempted to inform the woman that, as a rule, he never kidnapped or pillaged before the second course. But he kept silent and tried to look as unthreatening as possible, while she shrank in her chair and made desperate conversation with the man at her left. Turning to his right, Cam found himself staring into Amelia Hathaway’s blue eyes. They had been seated next to each other. Pleasure unfolded inside him. Her hair shone like satin, and her eyes were bright, and her skin looked like it would taste of some dessert made with milk and sugar. The sight of her reminded him of an old-fashioned gadjo word that had amused him when he had first heard it. Toothsome. The word was used for something appetizing, conveying the pleasure of taste, but also sexual allure. He found Amelia’s naturalness a thousand times more appealing than the powdered and bejeweled sophistication of other women present. “If you’re trying to look meek and civilized,” Amelia said, “it’s not working.”

“Camba had bent her long neck down to Ingar's level and was muttering in his ear. "Do you feel the breeze on your face?" I heard her say. "That's yours, and worth feeling. Look at those orange clouds. All the trials of a day may be endured if you know there's such a sky at the end of it. Some days I told my heart to wait, just wait, because the sunset would teach me again that my pain was nothing compared with the eternal, circling sky.”

“Cambiando de postura en el sillín, Adam pensó que la forma en que su humilde vida seguía los moldes de la literatura tenía algo como de metempsicosis. ¿O quizá -se preguntó, hurgándose la nariz- era consecuencia de estudiar tan detenidamente las estructuras de las frases de los novelistas ingleses? Uno se había resignado a no tener ya un lenguaje privado, pero se aferraba melancólicamente a la ilusión de poseer los hechos de su vida.”

“Cambiare le cose è ancora possibile. Possiamo rifornire di acqua fresca e potabile la popolazione. Possiamo fare in modo che non sia il profitto a regolare i raccolti, e possiamo fare in modo che i raccolti non vengano geneticamente modificati a scopo di lucro. Le persone muoiono perché si nutrono di cibo avvelenato. Gli animali muoiono perché li obblighiamo a mangiare rifiuti, perché li costringiamo a vivere nella loro sporcizia, perché li ingabbiamo e li maltrattiamo. Le piante avvizziscono perché innaffiamo la terra con sostanze chimiche nocive anche per noi. Ma possiamo correggere tutto. Ci somministrano menzogne per renderci più deboli, vulnerabili, più controllabili. Il nostro cibo, la nostra salute, il nostro sostentamento dipendono da altri. Ed è questo che ci penalizza. Ci rende codardi. Rende i nostri figli schiavi. È giunta l'ora di reagire.”

“Cambiare vita. Quante volte hai pronunciato questa frase, tu che stai leggendo. Di notte, accanto a un scino bagnato, di giorno, vicino a occhi che fingono di esserci e invece non ci sono. Non ci sono mai stati. Anche Alessio voleva farlo. Ventun anni e tutta una vita da cambiare. Da pensare e progettare. Tutta una vita da mettere in dubbio con gli occhi di chi non smette mai. Ingegneria meccanica e l'animo rock e la camicia per le occasioni importanti. Gli occhi noce che non puoi mai guardarci dentro come vorresti, il naso lungo abbastanza da respirare libertà, assecondare distanze, mantenerle. E uno spazietto tra i denti, come nel cuore. Che non sai mai cosa lasciar passare, cosa non lasciare uscire.”

“CAMBIO Podría ser Deseo Pasión; Podría ser El llamado Destino Podrías tú, Alma, Estar anhelando, Un Impulso Chispa Coraje El momento Luz divina Cambio divino Con Estaciones Planetas Estrellas El infinito Y verdadero Paraíso en la Tierra Espera Escucha Vete adentro El corazón Sabe El camino ¿Escucharemos nosotros? Ten cuidado Mira alrededor En todas partes Está el amor Ten cuidado Ábrete al cambio y revela tu corazón al mundo. ¿Qué estás esperando? Pues, tú serás recibido.”

“Cambodian dust whipped up in the wind and stuck to my clothes like clay. I put a hand between my face and the sun and blinked Phnom Penn dust from my tired eyes. One idea, drink, beamed light in all directions across my dark consciousness. A slim lady walked toward me with a big smile and a bigger head. Her left hand rested on her waggling hips and her right hand rose above her head, limp-wristed, like she’d just thrown a winning ball toward a basket and was leaving her hand in the shot position. The lady walking toward me was a man. At least that much was clear, but the nature or our relationship was still a fog to me. She wore blue jeans and a white top accentuating her breasts, but her Adam’s apple and cow sized hands revealed more in daylight than she could hide at night.”

“Cambridge by moonlight was light blue and brownish black. There was no mist here and a great vault of clear stars hung over the city with an intent luxurious brilliance. It was the sort of night when one knows of other galaxies. My long shadow glided before me on the pavement. Although it was not yet eleven o'clock the place seemed empty and I moved through it like a mysterious and lonely harlequin in a painting: like an assassin.”

“Camden in the winter of 1954 was a bleak place. It is difficult to see it this way if you’ve only been there in the summer, but most of Maine can be dismal, especially along the coast, during the long nights and short days. Once the colorful leaves have fallen from the majestic maple trees, and the last tourist has gone home, things become grim. So it was, during that cold January day, when I was on the road hoping to get a ride to New Jersey. On the radio, the weather forecasters predicted an overnight blizzard, but here it was only late afternoon and snow was already accumulating on the road. This would be my last opportunity to get home to see my family and friends, before cruising back on down to the Caribbean. I had really hoped to get an earlier start, to get far enough south to miss the brunt of the storm. Maine is known for this kind of weather, and the snowplows and sanders were ready. In fact, I didn’t see many other vehicles on the road any longer. Schools had let out early and most businesses were closed in anticipation of the storm. My last ride dropped me off in Belfast, telling me that he was trying to get as far as Augusta, before State Road 3 became impassable. Standing alongside the two-lane coastal highway with darkness not far off, I was half thinking that I should turn back. My mind was made up for me when I stepped back off the road, making room for a big State DOT dump truck with a huge yellow snowplow. His airbrakes wheezed as he braked, coming to a stop, at the same time lifting his plow to keep from burying me. The driver couldn’t believe that I was out hitchhiking in a blizzard. This kind of weather in Maine is no joke! The driver told me that the year before a body had been found under a snow bank during the spring thaw. Never mind, I was invincible and nothing like that could happen to me, or so I thought. He got me as far as Camden and suggested that I get a room. “This storm is only going to get worse,” he cautioned as I got off. I waved as he drove off. Nevertheless, still hoping that things would improve, I was determined to continue…”

“Came the day of the first trial. The propellants were hydrazine and WFNA. We were all gathered around waiting for the balloon to go up, when Dr. Milton Scheer(Uncle Milty) warned, "Hold it - the acid valve is leaking!" "Go ahead - fire anyway!" Paul ordered. I looked around and signaled to my own gang, and we started backing away gently, like so many cats with wet feet.”

“Camels can go many weeks without drinking anything at all. The notion that they cache water in their humps is pure myth—their humps are made of fat, and water is stored in their body tissues. While other mammals draw water from bloodstreams when faced with dehydration, leading to death by volume shock, camels tap the water in their tissues, keeping their blood volume stable. Though this reduces the camel’s bulk, they can lose up to a third of their body weight with no ill effects, which they can replace astonishingly quickly, as they are able to drink up to forty gallons in a single watering.” (pp.69-70)”

“Camera lies all the time. It’s all it does is lie, because when you choose this moment instead of this moment, when you… the moment you’ve made a choice, you’re lying about something larger. Lying is an ugly word. I don’t mean lying. But any artist picks and chooses what they want to paint or write about or say. Photographers are the same.”