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V Quotes

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

All V Quotes

“Van Hermans wordt al 1½ of 2 jaar een roman aangekondigd, maar ik zie nergens iets ervan, ook geen voorpublikaatsies. Louis Paul Boon schrijft niet meer, maar schildert nu. Richard Minne is dood, Jan van Nijlen is dood, Pierre Kemp is dood. Het holle vat Mulisch is van eigen verbeelding gebarsten, Wolkers absoluut ongenietbaar geworden. Het zo geestdriftig begroete talent Hamelink is verzand. De gehele markt, de gehele Nederlandse levende literatuur is voor mij — een gek idee, net alsof je een heel groot strandbad of koncertzaal voor jezelf alleen hebt. Het is niet echt leuk, & je wordt er nerveus van. Autorijden terwijl er nergens ook maar iemand op de weg is, dagen, jaren lang. Toch moet je rechts blijven houden, richting aangeven etc. etc. Vreemd, heel vreemd. Kwam Willem Frederik Hermans maar eindelijk weer eens met iets groots.”

“Van het Vlaams Blok kan men zeggen dat het de verworvenheden van de Franse revolutie zoals de. nadruk op broederlijkheid en gelijkheid - verwerpt of minstens zeer beperkend interpreteert ('Eigen volk eerst'). Die formatie huldigt ook een strenge arbeidsethiek: de verdeling van inkomen en allerlei sociale voorzieningen moeten zo nauw mogelijk gebonden worden aan het leveren van (economische) prestaties. Het Vlaams Blok wil bovendien dat het handelen van het individu zeker op het stuk van gezin, huwelijk en voortplanting - strikt aan de traditionele limieten van ethische aard zou onderworpen worden, Het gedachtengoed van ROSSEM is in zijn huidige staat erg vaag en incoherent, maar in ieder geval staat vast dat het geen verwantschap vertoont met wat hierboven van het Vlaams Blok is gezegd. Wat vooral opvalt zijn de libertijnse klemtonen en daarmee ligt het 'programma' van ROSSEM nogal dicht in de buurt van dat van de PVV. Een uiting daarvan is het ROSSEM-pleidooi voor de privatisering van de sociale zekerheid.”

“Van nu af moeten wij onze markten zoo talrijk maken als mogelijk is. Geen ander middel bestaat er tot het bezweren dier nijverheidserisissen, waarvan de noodlottige gevolgen zich zouden doen gevoelen naar gelang van de ontwikkeling der aangetaste gedeelten. Wij moeten ook onzen handel aanwakkeren en den Belgischen voortbrenger in staat stellen langs Belgische wegen te vervoeren en bij Belgen te consigneeren, de goederen, waarvan de verzending naar verre landen weldra, naar ik verhoop, belangrijker zal worden,dank aan ons volmaakt werk en aan onze gematigde prijzen.”

“Van Til's insight… was that antitheism actually presupposes theism. To reason at all, the unbeliever must operate on assumptions that actually contradict his espoused presuppositions — assumptions that comport only with the Christian worldview. The unbeliever's efforts to be rational and to find an intelligible interpretation of his experience are, then, indications that he bears a knowledge of God the Creator within his heart, though struggling to suppress it (as the Bible itself speaks of sinful man's condition)”

“Vancouver Kickboxing is a term which is defined as knowingly using your physical force to protect yourself or your loved ones from any unwanted physical harm.”

“Vandalism Ain't Activism (The Sonnet) Systemic change is a slow and tedious process, It doesn't happen overnight by vandalizing society. If vandalism and activism were one and the same, Our jungly ancestors would've been the ideal humanity. Change habits, change yourself, submit to no primitivity, The change that you dream of, be the epitome of that change. Obstructing traffic and refusing to let an ambulance pass, You're not fighting any crisis, but being a crisis yourself. Go fly a kite, it is good for the mind as well as body, Get lessons on common sense before appointing yourself king. The line between activism and terrorism is so thin that, Often many go astray without having the slightest inkling. I repeat, systemic change is a slow and tedious process. The more you rush with recklessness, the more you digress.”

“Vande Vasudhaivam Sonnet 68 Don't be fooled by my attire, You think of me a fool because I want you to think of me a fool. I am a behaviorist, and by behaving idiot I study who's true, who's a tool. I don't dress all ancient like a monk, yet monks come to hear the words I utter. I don't dress fancy like world leaders, yet world leaders look to me for answer. I don't wear the uniform of law, yet coppers study me to be better cops. I never got to put on a white coat, yet white coats study me to be better docs. I am the person beyond the paradigm, I am but a reflection of the best of humankind.”

“Vane grabbed me. “DuLac, let’s chat.” Chat. British-speak for “Stand still while I yell at you.”

“Vane held the reins of his desire in a grip of iron and refused to let his demons loose. Deep, primal instincts urged him on; experience held him back. She'd never yielded her mouth to any man, never shared her lips willingly. He knew that absolutely, sensed the truth in her untutored response, read it in her lack of guile. But she was rising to him, her passion, her desire, answering his call, sweet as the dew on a crisp spring morning, virginal as snow on an inaccessible peak. He could reach her- she would be his. But there was no need for any hurry. She was untouched, unused to the demands of a man's hands, a man's lips, much less a man's body; if he pressed too fast, she'd turn skittish and balk. And he'd have to work harder to bring her to his bed. Angling his head over hers, he kept every caress slow, every plundering stroke deliberate. Passion lay heavy, languid, almost somnolent between them; as he claimed every sweet inch of the softness she offered him, he laced the heady sensation into every caress, and let it sink into her senses. It would lie there, dormant, until next time he touched her, until he called it forth. He would let it rise by degrees, feed it, nurture it until it became the inescapable compulsion that would, in the end, bring her to him. He would savor her slowly, savor her slow surrender- all the more sweet because the end was never in doubt.”

“Vane met her wide gaze, and managed not to smile wolfishly- no need to frighten the prey. The view he now had- of delectable curves filling a gown of ivory sprigged muslin in a manner he fully approved- was every bit as enticing as the view that first held him- the gorgeous curves of her derriere clearly delineated beneath taut fabric. When she'd shifted, so had those curves. He couldn't remember when a sight had so transfixed him, had so tantalized his rake's senses. She was of average height, her forehead level with his throat. Her hair, rich brown, lustrously sheening, was confined in a sleek knot, bright tendrils escaping to wreathe about her ears and nape. Delicate brown brows framed large eyes of hazel brown, their expression difficult to discern in the gloom. Her nose was straight; her complexion creamy. Her pink lips simply begged to be kissed. He'd come within a whisker of kissing them, but tasting an unknown lady before the requisite introductions was simply not good form. His silence had allowed her to steady her wits; he sensed her growing resistance, sensed the frown gathering in her eyes. Vane let his lips curve. He knew precisely what he wanted to do- to her, with her; the only questions remaining were where and when.”

“Vane pulled out his wallet and handed several hundred dollar bills to Henri. "Do me a favor. That guy downstairs Taylor. Give him the worst table in the house." Henri's eyes danced with amusement. "For you, Mr. Kattalakis, anything." Vane took his seat as Henri walked off. "That was so bad of you," she said with a coy smile. "Do you want me to take it back?" "Hardly. I was merely pointing out that it was bad." "What can I say? I'm just a big bad wolf.”

“Vane’s lips tightened to suppress a smile. “Why so hostile, love?” “You whacked me on the head with a ball!” “You deserved it.”

“Vane strolled in. The smile on his face, curving those fascinating lips, was more than enough to make Patience inwardly swear that she would not, not for anything, give him the pleasure of knowing how flustered she felt. "What's the time?" Nonchalance laced her tones. "Lunchtime," replied the wolf. Feeling very like Red Riding Hood, Patience smothered a feigned yawn, then held up her arms and waved him closer. "You may carry me down then." Vane's smile deepened. With elegant ease, he lifted her into his arms.”

“Vane watched her reaction from under heavy lids, watched flaring passion light her eyes. Sparks of pure gold flashed in the hazel depths as he gently kneaded, then sent his fingers gliding over her silken skin. He knew he should kiss her, distract her, from what came next- but the compulsion to witness, to know her reaction as she learned what he would do, as he filled his senses with her, waxed strong.”

“Vanessa,” he murmured. I stared at him. I knew instantly what he meant. I had been thinking the same thing all along. Remembering the horrible moment we spilled Vanessa’s groceries. “Yes,” I agreed. “I didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t want to believe it. But Vanessa did this to us. Vanessa is BLUUUUCK BLUCCCK turning us into chickens.” “Chicken chicken,” he clucked.”

“Vanessa’s scream of terror pierced the air, while the pegasi flapped their wings and whinnied. Andy looked to the sky. A flock of giant ebony swans flew toward the clearing, visible just beyond the tall trees. Their shiny feathers shifted between black and silver in the sunlight. Their beaks were a dull bronze, their red eyes gleaming with malice. Together they let out a screech, and the trees shook. Spencer’s jaw dropped. “That’s them. The Stymphalian Birds.”

“Vanessa was clearly enjoying the bath. Her brown hair flowed around her in slippery wet ringlets that very much brought to mind the arms and legs of a squid. Great quantities of bubbles and foam towered over the top of the tub and spilled out onto the floor, slowly dripping down like the slimy egg sac of a moon snail. Vanessa was splashing and talking to herself and playing in the bath almost like a child. Ariel remembered, with heat, when she had been in that bath, and was introduced to the wonders of foam that wasn't just the leavings of dead merfolk. The whole experience had been marvelous and strange. Imagine the humans, kings of the Dry World, keeping bubbles of water around to bathe and play in. There was no equivalent under the sea; no one made "air pools" for fun and cleanliness.”