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C Quotes

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All C Quotes

“Come si fa a dare valore a una cosa che può finire in qualsiasi momento, una cosa così fragile? Si dà valore a ciò che ha forza, e la vita non ne ha; a ciò che è indistruttibile, e la vita non lo è. Tant'è vero che può arrivare qualcuno a chiederti di sacrificarla, la tua vita, per qualcosa che ha più forza. La patria, per esempio. [...] Nessuno ama l'intero genere umano. Non si può piangere sulle esistenze interrotte di miliardi di individui a partire da sei milioni di anni fa. Non era forse questo il patto originario: che ogni esistenza sulla Terra dovesse interrompersi, prima o poi? Sentire con le proprie orecchie il nitrito sgomento di un cavallo strazia più del pensiero di un uomo sconosciuto, morto perché di morti è fatta la Storia. Non esiste pietà universale, solo l'impietosirsi davanti al destino di un singolo essere umano.”

“Come si può non vedere nel tempo lungo che ci finirà e finisce con il perderci ci perderà? Non intuire né indovinare la sua trama, la sua macchinazione e la sua danza in cerchio, non fiutare il suo malanimo o respirare il suo squallore, non captare il suo torbido agguato e la sua lentissima e illanguidente attesa e la conseguente impazienza che chissà per quanti anni avrà dovuto tenere a freno? Come posso non conoscere oggi il tuo volto domani, quello che già esiste o trama sotto la faccia che mostri o sotto la maschera che indossi, e che mi mostrerai soltanto quando non me lo aspetto?”

“Come, sit beside me. We won't speak, instead, we will let the unspoken create us. In the quiet of night, we will let our hearts whisper to each other, feeling the deepest intimacy. We will mingle in the rhythm of our breaths, sensing light in the dark night. Remaining unspoken, our emotions will speak of our depths. Entering the mystical, we will drift into the land of light that will make the music of harmony; eternally, it will surpass the 'you' and 'me,' and create 'us' .”

“Come sit, dear," the old woman said. "We were just discussing kelpies and changelings." I turned a delightfully amused face at Ronan, hoping to see him embarrassed to be caught in a world of fantasy, but his face was impassive, completely unperturbed. Those were the hardest boys to ignore: the ones that weren't concerned with your opinion of them, not afraid to be caught listening to fairytales.”

“Come, sit next to me. As you will, so will be. As long as you are next to me, Even your silence is tranquility. I know it hurts like the dickens! Yet every wound delivers valiance. At your every whim I am your servant. But to every wound you are your treatment. Your trouble is my trouble. Be not disheartened if the world frowns. Clouds are nothing but herald of sunshine. Pain of today is tomorrow's crown. So I say, come, sit next to me. As you will, so will be.”

“Come spring, the trees give us gifts. Green bits that helicopter down from above. When they land, Joey and I follow, retrieve them and bend the blades until they touch, releasing the glue inside so we can stick them onto our noses and call each other Pinocchio. This beats anything in my yard. Gathering buds that die and fall was fine once. But chasing helicopters and having a green nose is better.”

“Come the next election, in a two-party or two-party-plus system, a very small swing amongst the voters, a slight shift of the median voter on the normal distribution curve, may lead to a complete change of government, whereupon a new set of persons takes over, and a new set of ministers accepts collective responsibility for policies which, in some instances, completely overturn the decisions of the former administration. Yet all is due to just a very small swing. Majoritarian politics, which some claim offers stable government, is actually part of a system which perpetuates instability, especially if viewed from a long-term perspective.”

“Come then, let us do something!” said Davie. “Come away,” rejoined Donal. “What shall we do first?” “I don't know: you must tell me, sir.” “What would you like best to do—I mean if you might do what you pleased?” Davie thought a little, then said: “I should like to write a book.” “What kind of a book?” “A beautiful story.” “Isn’t it just as well to read such a book? Why should you want to write one?” “Because then I should have it go just as I wanted it! I am always—almost always—disappointed with the thing that comes next. But if I wrote it myself, then I shouldn’t get tired of it; it would be what pleased me, and not what pleased somebody else.” “Well,” said Donal, after thinking for a moment, “suppose you begin to write a book!” “Oh, that will be fun!—much better than learning verbs and nouns!” “But the verbs and nouns are just the things that go to make a story—with not a few adjectives and adverbs, and a host of conjunctions; and, if it be a very moving story, a good many interjections! These all you have got to put together with good choice, or the story will not be one you would care to read.—Perhaps you had better not begin till I see whether you know enough about those verbs and nouns to do the thing decently.”

“Come to God for your healing. Don't hesitate. God, who is so full of goodness and supply, is always willing to bless, preserve, heal and restore you.”