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All O Quotes

“Oscar Wilde quite rightly said, 'All art is useless'. And that may sound as if that means it's something not worth supporting. But if you actually think about it, the things that matter in life are useless. Love is useless. Wine is useless. Art is the love and wine of life. It is the extra, without which life is not worth living.”

“Oscar Wilde suggested that every portrait painted with feeling is of the artist not the sitter. The artist reveals himself through the coloured canvas. The self-portrait is therefore a consultation of what the artist wishes to say about their art, a physical rendering that aims to included a psychoanalytical evaluation. It may offer and insight into the essence of their creative unconscious, their ambitions and desires. Yet the act of painting a self portrait is also implicitly about death.”

“OSCAR. (With a pointing finger.) I'm warning you. You want to live here, I don't want to see you, I don't want to hear you and I don't want to smell your cooking. Now get this spaghetti off my poker table. FELIX. Ha! Haha! OSCAR. What the hell's so funny? FELIX. It's not spaghetti. It's linguini! (OSCAR picks up the plate of linguini, crosses to the doorway, and hurls it into the kitchen.) OSCAR. Now it's garbage!”

“Oshima's silent for a time as he gazes at the forest, eyes narrowed. Birds are flitting from one branch to the next. His hands are clasped behind his head. "I know how you feel," he finally says. "But this is something you have to work out on your own. Nobody can help you. That's what love's all about, Kafka. You're the one having those wonderful feelings, but you have to go it alone as you wander through the dark. Your mind and body have to bear it all. All by yourself.”

“Osho is one of India's greatest mystics.... I see him as one of the world's great teachers, thinkers, philosophers and guides of our times. I have enormous respect for his world vision and the kind of International Communities he is building. I have always felt his influence in my life.”

“Osho used me and Shunyo (my girlfriend at the time) as an example of how he envisioned men and women should relate. He shared a story he had often told in discourse of a man and woman who lived at opposite ends of a lake. They were deeply in love but only met by chance when sometimes out rowing on the water. He said it was beautiful how Shunyo and I met like this couple. When we had the feeling to be together, we would meet and enjoy. And when we were apart, we were also happy and content in our aloneness.”

“Osiris, to go directly to the important part of this, was not a "dying god," not "life caught in the spell of death," or "a dead god," as modern interpreters have said. He was the hallucinated voice of a dead king whose admonitions could still carry weight. And since he could still be heard, there is no paradox in the fact that the body from which the voice once came should be mummified, with all the equipment of the tomb providing life's necessities: food, drink, slaves, women, the lot. There was no mysterious power that emanated from him; simply his remembered voice which appeared in hallucination to those who had known him and which could admonish or suggest even as it has before he stopped moving and breathing. And that various natural phenomena such as the whispering of waves could act as the cue for such hallucinations accounts for the belief that Osiris, or the king whose body has ceased to move and is in his mummy cloths, continues to control the flooding of the Nile. Further, the relationship between Horus and Osiris, 'embodied' in each new king and his dead father forever, can only be understood as the assimilation of an hallucinated advising voice into the king's own voice, which then would be repeated with the next generation.”

“Oskar cumplía treinta y siete años, y acababa de abrir una botella de coñac. Sobre su escritorio había un telegrama de una planta de montaje de armamentos situada cerca de Brno. Decía que las granadas antitanques de Oskar estaban tan mal hechas que no soportaban uno solo de los controles de calidad. Estaban mal calibradas, y estallaban durante los ensayos porque no habían sido templadas a la temperatura adecuada. Oskar parecía extasiado con el telegrama. Lo empujó hacia Stern y Pemper para que lo leyeran. Pemper recuerda que dijo una de sus extravagancias: —Es el mejor regalo de cumpleaños que podía haber recibido. Ahora sé que mis productos no pueden matar a ningún pobre infortunado.”

“Oskar Schell: My father died at 9-11. After he died I wouldn't go into his room for a year because it was too hard and it made me want to cry. But one day, I put on heavy boots and went in his room anyway. I miss doing taekwondo with him because it always made me laugh. When I went into his closet, where his clothes and stuff were, I reached up to get his old camera. It spun around and dropped about a hundred stairs, and I broke a blue vase! Inside was a key in an envelope with black written on it and I knew that dad left something somewhere for me that the key opened and I had to find. So I take it to Walt, the locksmith. I give it to Stan, the doorman, who tells me keys can open anything. He gave me the phone book for all the five boroughs. I count there are 472 people with the last name black. There are 216 addresses. Some of the blacks live together, obviously. I calculated that if I go to 2 every Saturday plus holidays, minus my hamlet school plays, my minerals, coins, and comic convention, it's going to take me 3 years to go through all of them. But that's what I'm going to do! Go to every single person named black and find out what the key fits and see what dad needed me to find. I made the very best possible plan but using the last four digits of each phone number, I divide the people by zones. I had to tell my mother another lie, because she wouldn't understand how I need to go out and find what the key fits and help me make sense of things that don't even make sense like him being killed in the building by people that didn't even know him at all! And I see some people who don't speak English, who are hiding, one black said that she spoke to God. If she spoke to god how come she didn't tell him not to kill her son or not to let people fly planes into buildings and maybe she spoke to a different god than them! And I met a man who was a woman who a man who was a woman all at the same time and he didn't want to get hurt because he/she was scared that she/he was so different. And I still wonder if she/he ever beat up himself, but what does it matter? Thomas Schell: What would this place be if everyone had the same haircut? Oskar Schell: And I see Mr. Black who hasn't heard a sound in 24 years which I can understand because I miss dad's voice that much. Like when he would say, "are you up yet?" or... Thomas Schell: Let's go do something. Oskar Schell: And I see the twin brothers who paint together and there's a shed that has to be clue, but it's just a shed! Another black drew the same drawing of the same person over and over and over again! Forest black, the doorman, was a school teacher in Russia but now says his brain is dying! Seamus black who has a coin collection, but doesn't have enough money to eat everyday! You see olive black was a gate guard but didn't have the key to it which makes him feel like he's looking at a brick wall. And I feel like I'm looking at a brick wall because I tried the key in 148 different places, but the key didn't fit. And open anything it hasn't that dad needed me to find so I know that without him everything is going to be alright. Thomas Schell: Let's leave it there then. Oskar Schell: And I still feel scared every time I go into a strange place. I'm so scared I have to hold myself around my waist or I think I'll just break all apart! But I never forget what I heard him tell mom about the sixth borough. That if things were easy to find... Thomas Schell: ...they wouldn't be worth finding. Oskar Schell: And I'm so scared every time I leave home. Every time I hear a door open. And I don't know a single thing that I didn't know when I started! It's these times I miss my dad more than ever even if this whole thing is to stop missing him at all! It hurts too much. Sometimes I'm afraid I'll do something very bad.”

“Oskoruša è un bel nome. No, non è vero. Oskoruša ha un suono duro, brusco. Nessuna sillaba a cui potersi aggrappare, ritmo inesistente, una sequenza bizzarra di suoni. Sì, già l’inizio: Osko – che roba è? Chi è che parla così? – e poi il tuffo sulla fine sibilata: -ruscha. Dura e slava come soltanto le desinenze balcaniche sanno essere. Potrei lasciare questo pensiero così com’è, dopotutto forse la gente se la berrà la cosa delle desinenze dure e slave, visto che vengo dai Balcani. Ma certo, questi jugoslavi con le loro guerre e i loro modi. Eppure l’immagine non ha alcun senso. Cosa bisogna figurarsi al sentir parlare di desinenze dure e slave? L’essere slavi non è un cappello da uomo, non è qualcosa che si può descrivere in maniera inequivocabile, a patto di sapere cosa sono gli uomini e cosa sono i cappelli. Può darsi però che queste parole vengano anche lette da qualcuno che, pur non amando l’ironica riproduzione di pregiudizi e cliché, sa cosa significa Oskoruša, cos’è Oskoruša. Oskoruša è un frutto. Un frutto molto apprezzato, per essere precisi, un rispettato tipo di sorbo con elevata agricultural credibility. Ad affermarlo sono quelli il cui rispetto conta qualcosa: gli agricoltori. Oskoruša è il nome serbocroato del sorbus domestica, il sorbo. (p.36)”

“Osmanlı Karaman beylikleri arasındaki mücadeleyi anlatan, ayrıca şaman bir karakterin şamanlık gelişimiyle tüyleri diken diken eden ayrıntılar sunan tarihi roman serisinin ikinci kitabı da akıcı, tarihi bilgilerle dolu doluydu. Üstelik Edirne'den çıkan karakterlerin ilgi çekici mekanlara olan seyahatlari beni tarihi bir yolculuğa çıkardı. Çok keyif aldım. Kumru ve Bengi diğer Osmanlı şehzadeleri ile Edirne'den çıkıp ikinci Osmanlı payitahtı Bursa'ya ve çevredeki başka şehirlere gittiler. Bursa'nın tasvirleri çok hoşuma gitti. Ayrıca diğer karakterlerin de kişisel gelişimine daha çok girildi. Kötü olduğunu sandığımız bazı kişilerin aslında daha karmaşık karakterlere sahip iyi-kötü arasında kişiler olduğunu görmüş oldum. Bu da kitap okurken keyif aldığım bir noktadır çünkü hiçbir insan sadece iyi sadece kötü değildir. Karakterler kişilikler psikolojik değişimler katman katman açılır, bu konuda da çok tatmin oldum. Kitap herkesin bildiği ünlü Ankara Savaşı ile sona erdi ve savaş sahnelerinde her şey gözümde apaçık canlandı. Olaylar açılırken ve sırlar ortaya çıkarken savaş alanında kılıç kullanan şehzadelerin bazılarının babalarını savaş alanında bırakıp kaçması çok acıklıydı. Dönem tarihini biraz bilenler Ankara savaşında kimlerin kaçtığını iyi bilir :D Sonuç olarak Larende'nin Varisleri çok keyif aldığım ve herkese tavsiye ettiğim bir kitaptı.”

“Osmanlı Türkiye Müslüman olabilir, ama Atatürk'ün Türkiye Müslüman bi' millet değil, Atatürk'ün Türkiye laik bi' ülkedir - Atatürk'ün Türkiye'de her fikrin, her inancın, her kültürün bir evi vardir - bu benim Türkiye'm, bu senin Türkiye'n, ve bizim Türkiye'de her insana hoş geldin.”

“Osmond aveva l’attaccamento della conoscenza vecchia, e Isabel lo stimolo di quella nuova, che sembrava assicurarle un avvenire in cui la percezione della bellezza avrebbe raggiunto un livello assai alto. Il desiderio di spazi interminati era stato sostituito nella sua anima dal senso che la vita è vuota se non si ha qualche obbligo personale che possa far convergere le energie in un punto solo. Aveva detto a Ralph di aver «visto la vita» per un anno o due, e di essere stanca ormai, non dell’azione di vivere, ma di quella di stare a guardare. Che ne era stato di tutti i suoi ardori, delle sue aspirazioni, delle sue teorie, dell’alta stima che faceva della propria indipendenza e della sua incipiente certezza di non sposarsi mai? Queste cose erano state assorbite in una più primitiva esigenza, una esigenza che a soddisfarla spazzava via innumerevoli questioni, e tuttavia appagava infiniti desideri. Essa semplificava la situazione di colpo, cadeva dall’alto come la luce delle stelle, e non aveva bisogno di spiegazione alcuna. C’era una spiegazione sufficiente nel fatto che egli era l’innamorato suo, proprio suo, e che lei avrebbe potuto essergli utile. Poteva arrendersi a lui con una specie di umiltà, poteva sposarlo con una specie di orgoglio; non prendeva soltanto, donava anche.”

“Osons non seulement couper les branches de nos malheurs, mais arracher tous les filaments de leurs racines. Peut-être pourtant en restera-t-il quelque chose, tellement sont profondes les souches de la déraison ; mais il ne restera que le nécessaire. Ainsi tiens pour certains que, si l'âme ne guérit pas (ce qui est impossible sans la philosophie), il n'y aura pas de fins à nos misères. Aussi, puisque nous avons commencé, confions-nous à elle pour être soignés ; nous guérirons si nous le voulons.”

“OSS, Donovan's own creation, with the stamp of him on it, with the spirit of him in it, became a vivid and compelling force in many critical moments and places of war. He's a great guy, and he did an extraordinary job, and I think I know what gave him the patience, the courage, and the energy to carry on over all obstacles. He loves his country more than any man I know. But, my God, sometimes he can make you want to knock his teeth out, too.”

“Osservare tutte quelle linee tracciate in Costa Rica, tutte quelle cose da fare che finalmente erano state fatte, mi dava un’ immensa soddisfazione. Era la dimostrazione concreta di un’avventura che mi aveva cambiato, forse salvato, certamente guarito. E se in qualche modo ero riuscito a completare anche l’obiettivo più irrealizzabile - diventare un milionario -, ed ero abbastanza sicuro che avrei completato anche la voce numero quattordici - scrivere un libro -, restavano fuori solo un paio di obiettivi.”