V Quotes
Browse famous quotes beginning with V. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.
“Variability is one of the virtues of a woman. It avoids the crude requirement of polygamy. So long as you have one good wife you are sure to have a spiritual harem".”
“Variability is the law of life, and as no two faces are the same, so no two bodies are alike, and no two individuals react alike and behave alike under the abnormal conditions which we know as disease.”
Source: Aequanimitas
“Variable behaviour of the sun is an obvious explanation, and there is increasing evidence that Earth's climate responds to changing patterns of solarmagnetic activity. ... If you look back into the sun's past, you find that we live in a period of abnormally high solar activity. ... It's a boom-bust system, and I would expect a crash soon. ... Having a crash would certainly allow us to pin down the sun's true level of influence on the Earth's climate. Then we will be able to act on fact, rather than from fear.”
“Variable but forecastable renewables (wind and solar cells) are very reliable when integrated with each other, existing supplies and demand. For example, three German states were more than 30 percent wind-powered in 2007 - and more than 100 percent in some months. Mostly renewable power generally needs less backup than utilities already bought to combat big coal and nuclear plants' intermittence.”
“Variación / Variations El remanso de aire bajo la rama del eco. El remanso del agua bajo fronda de luceros. El remanso de tu boca bajo espesura de besos. * The still waters of the air under the bough of the echo. The still waters of the water under a frond of stars. The still waters of your mouth under a thicket of kisses. Translated from the Spanish by Lysander Kemp”
“Variación / Variations"
El remanso de aire
bajo la rama del eco.
El remanso del agua
bajo fronda de luceros.
El remanso de tu boca
bajo espesura de besos.
*
The still waters of the air
under the bough of the echo.
The still waters of the water
under a frond of stars.
The still waters of your mouth
under a thicket of kisses.”
Source: The selected poems
“Varian cringed as Merewyn faced him. If he looked half as bad as he suspected, he wouldn’thave blamed her had she run for the door. “You don’t have to do this.”
She stepped into his arms. “Yes, Varian, I do.” She brushed the matted hair back from his face. “I don’t care what you look like. It’s you I love, not your looks. Your humor, your kindness, even that little snuffle snore you make when you sleep.”
“I don’t snore.”
She laughed. “Yes, you do.” And with that she pulled his lips to hers.”
Source: Knight of Darkness
“Varian. He didn't so much as look at his High lord, his focus going right to where Amren sat at the head of the table. As if he'd sensed she was here- or someone had reported. And he'd come running.
Amren's eyes flicked up from the Book as Varian halted. A coy smile covered her red lips.
There was still blood and dirt splattered on Varian's brown skin, coating his silver amour and close-cropped white hair. He didn't seem to notice or care as he strode for Amren.
And none of us dared to speak as Varian dropped to his knees before Amren's chair, took her shocked face in his broad hands, and kissed her soundly.”
Source: A Court of Wings and Ruin
“Varian, please. I didn't mean what I said.'
'Of course you didn't,' he said snidely. 'No one ever does. People always speak without thought. But it's amazing how much damage thoughtless words can wreak, isn't it?”
“Varian rubbed the back of his head where his lump was growing significantly. “Not that I particularly want to defend Merrick, but those little rocks did happen to hurt. Thank the gods for armor.”
Merewyn gave him a sweet, sympathetic pout. “Poor baby.” She reached up to rub his sore spot, but honestly he’d much rather have her rub something else that was bothering him. The touch of her hand made his entire body break out into chills. Not to mention that the smell of her so close played total havoc with his hormones.
He honestly wanted to curl up beside her and start purring like a cat.
More than that, he had a vicious need to nibble her body until he was drunk on her scent. And there was a thought that made him glad he was wearing his armor again since it kept his erection hidden from the ones around him.
Stepping away from her before he actually did purr, he looked at Merrick. “What other nasty surprises do we have in store for us?”
Source: Knight of Darkness
“Variant: I was driven to drink by a woman. I am forever grateful, yet I never had the good manners to thank her.”
“Variant: When it is not in our power to follow what is true, we ought to follow what is most probable.”
“Variante. Tu sei un autore, non sai ancora quanto grande, colei che amavi ti ha tradito, la vita per te non ha più senso e un giorno, per dimenticare, fai un viaggio sul Titanic e naufraghi nei mari del sud, ti raccoglie (unico superstite) una piroga di indigeni e passi lunghi anni ignorato da tutti, su di un'isola abitata solo da papuasi, con le ragazze che ti cantano canzoni di intenso languore, agitando i seni appena coperti dalla collana di fiori di pua. Cominci ad abituarti, ti chiamano Jim, come fanno coi bianchi, una ragazza dalla pelle ambrata ti si introduce una sera nella capanna e ti dice: "Io tua, io con te." In fondo è bello, la sera, stare sdraiato sulla veranda a guardare la Croce del Sud mentre lei ti accarezza la fronte.
Vivi secondo il ciclo delle albe e dei tramonti, e non sai d'altro. Un giorno arriva una barca a motore con degli olandesi, apprendi che sono passati dieci anni, potresti andare via con loro, ma esiti, preferisci scambiare noci di cocco con derrate, prometti che potresti occuparti della raccolta della canapa, gli indigeni lavorano per te, tu cominci a navigare da isolotto a isolotto, sei diventato per tutti Jim della Canapa. Un avventuriero portoghese rovinato dall'alcool viene a lavorare con te e si redime, tutti parlano ormai di te in quei mari della Sonda, dai consigli al marajà di Brunei per una campagna contro i dajaki del fiume, riesci a riattivare un vecchio cannone dei tempi di Tippo Sahib, caricato a chiodaglia, alleni una squadra di malesi devoti, coi denti anneriti dal betel in uno scontro presso la Barriera Corallina il vecchio Sampan, i denti anneriti dal betel, ti fa scudo col proprio corpo - Sono contento di morire per te, Jim della Canapa. - Vecchio, vecchio Sampan, amico mio.
Ormai sei famoso in tutto l'arcipelago tra Sumatra e Port-au-Prince, tratti con gli inglesi, alla capitaneria del di Darwin sei registrato come Kurtz, e ormai sei Kurtz per tutti - Jim della Canapa per gli indigeni. Ma una sera, mentre la ragazza ti accarezza sulla veranda e la Croce del Sud sfavilla come non mai, ahi quanto, diversa dall'Orsa, tu capisci: vorresti tornare. Solo per poco, per vedere che cosa sia rimasto di te, laggiù.
Prendi la barca a motore, raggiungi Manila, di là un aereo a elica ti porta a Bali. Poi Samoa, Isole dell'Ammiragliato, Singapore, Tananarive, Timbuctu, Aleppo, Samarcanda, Bassora, Malta e sei a casa.
Sono passati diciott'anni, la vita ti ha segnato, il viso è abbronzato dagli alisei, sei più vecchio, forse più bello. Ed ecco che appena arrivato scopri che le librerie ostentano tutti i tuoi libri, in riedizioni critiche, c'è il tuo nome sul frontone della vecchia scuola dove hai imparato a leggere e a scrivere. Sei il Grande Poeta Scomparso, la coscienza della generazione. Fanciulle romantiche si uccidono sulla tua tomba vuota.
E poi incontro te, amore, con tante rughe intorno agli occhi, e il volto ancora bello che si strugge di ricordo, e tenero rimorso. Quasi ti ho sfiorata sul marciapiede, sono là a due passi, e tu mi hai guardato come guardi tutti, cercando un altro oltre la loro ombra. Potrei parlare, cancellare il tempo. Ma a che scopo? Non ho già avuto quello che volevo? Io sono Dio, la stessa solitudine, la stessa vanagloria, la stessa disperazione per non essere una delle mie creature come tutti. Tutti che vivono nella mia luce e io che vivo nello scintillio insopportabile della mia tenebra.”
Source: Foucault’s Pendulum
“Variasi Suluk: Suara yang Tersesat dalam Tubuh
Ada suara lama yang memanggilmu.
Bukan tembang, bukan kidung,
melainkan gema yang kehilangan asal-usulnya,
mengambang di udara seperti serpihan mimpi
yang tak pernah selesai ditidurkan.
Kau mencoba menjadikannya doa.
Tapi setiap doa adalah luka yang belum sembuh;
ia menetes di antara sela-sela tulang,
merembes perlahan
ke sumur gelap yang kau gali selama bertahun-tahun.
Tubuhmu,
yang dulu kau banggakan sebagai altar,
kini tinggal reruntuhan yang memantulkan kembali
semua hasrat yang kau kira telah kau jinakkan.
Ia berdengung pelan,
seperti mesin tua yang dipaksa hidup
di tengah badai yang tak memilih korban.
Kau menyebutnya laku.
Padahal lebih tepat disebut pelarian.
Segala mantra yang kau pacu ke langit
jatuh kembali ke wajahmu,
meninggalkan jelaga tipis
yang tak pernah sempat kau bersihkan.
Ada malam-malam
ketika engkau merasa disentuh sesuatu
yang lebih tua dari dirimu sendiri.
Bukan dewa,
bukan malaikat,
hanya bayang yang ingin
menumpang tidur
di tubuh yang kau biarkan terbuka.
Setiap keinginan
meninggalkan lubang baru.
Setiap lubang
menuntut satu lagi bagian dari dirimu.
Begitu seterusnya,
hingga kau tak tahu lagi
mana yang lebih dalam:
hasratmu,
atau kehampaan yang memanggilmu pulang.
Ada denting jauh—
suara yang mengingatkanmu
betapa kecilnya engkau
di hadapan gelap yang terus tumbuh.
Gelap itu tidak mengancam.
Ia hanya menunggu.
Seperti seseorang yang tahu
bahwa semua jalan, pada akhirnya,
akan kembali kepadanya.
Kau pernah mengejar ekstase
seperti mengejar cahaya yang jatuh dari langit.
Kini engkau tahu:
setiap cahaya menyisakan abu,
dan abunya menempel di napasmu
sepanjang malam.
Ritual gagal.
Bukan karena kurangnya mantra,
melainkan karena tubuh
tak lagi percaya
pada apa pun selain retakan.
Engkau mencoba melupakan,
tapi bahkan lupa pun
memiliki caranya sendiri untuk mengingat.
Ia mengintai dari balik kelopak mata,
menunggu kau lengah
agar bisa merayap masuk
dan menduduki detak jantungmu.
Pada akhirnya,
semua suara yang kau puja
kembali padamu—
bukan sebagai wahyu,
melainkan sebagai sunyi
yang tak bisa kaubunuh.
Sunyi itu berdiri di ambang pintu,
mengangkat wajahnya perlahan,
dan kau melihat dirimu sendiri
di dalam retakannya.
Tidak ada ekstase.
Tidak ada penebusan.
Hanya tubuh
yang menua di hadapan gelap.
Dan gelap
yang sabar menunggu
kau berhenti melawan.
Desember 2025.”
“Variasi Suluk Tambangraras
Buku Kesembilan
: Elizabeth D. Inandiak
Inilah jantra sang Amongraga:
sedhakep awe-awe.
Serupa lintah yang lapar dan haus tenggelam dalam api samadi,
pulut ngelangut dalam pertapaan, terbuai bunyi gending Ladrang Rarangis. Tembang lamat-lamat mengalun,
batin lanjur tercebur dalam suara kidung Tri Kawula Gusana.
Seperti getah memikat balam, mambang terbang ngawang uwung ke jantung pulung.
Merangsek rubeda. Menjimak paksa ruda pari peksa Randa Sembada.
Matak aji jaran goyang: memagut bibir, menggerayang pinggang, meremas sintal buah dada.
Sungguh tiada beda watak manusia atau kera.
Jati ketlusupan ruyung.
Seratus lembing memburai usus menembus jantung.
Merasuk mabuk di bantun kidung Catur Wanara Rukem.
Gamelan sakti mengukir mimpi, memaksa turun dewi hapsari,
melucuti pakaian yang dikenakannya satu persatu.
Basah lidah menganak tuak.
Sloki demi sloki menantang mati.
Pada bunyi gong ke-12
kidung Sapta Kukila Wresa,
melupa umur, mengulur timba sembarang sumur.
Lupa japa segala mantra.
Lupa jampi segala kendi.
Di tempur Sungai Centhini
muntah api segala farji.
Rubuh segala tubuh.
Muspra segala radi.
Obah polah segala salah.
Singkap segala wadi.
Klenthing wadhah masin.
Bergaung kidung Nawa Wagra Lupa, menjelmalah ia jadi ular sawah yang menelan mentah-mentah seratus gajah. Bumi berputar bagai gasingan.
Bulan berjumpalitan seperti monyet kena tulup.
Sepuluh liman gergasi terkapar mati digempur nafsu tiada terbendung.
Tapi belum lagi usai kidung pamungkas, diteluhnya purusa lingga sang gandarwa hingga mengejang di sela-sela paha. Lembing mendesing menembus langit, telanjur kepayang menunggangi malam. Menyungsang batang pisang, memamah daun keladi.
Mabuk berat menimba hasrat,
hingga muncrat segala hayat.
Maret 2011”
“Variasi Suluk Tembang Raras – Genealogi Saras Dialogis
Saras berdiri di ambang pintu yang bahkan tidak ia kenali.
Di belakangnya masa lalu menetes seperti air yang sulit ia tampung;
di depannya masa kini bergetar, kabur, seolah baru saja dicetak dari
bayangan yang salah mengingat dirinya.
Ia tidak tahu pintu mana yang benar.
Ia hanya tahu retakan yang makin melebar itu menggigil,
memanggil sesuatu yang lebih tua dari bahasa,
lebih tajam dari ketakutan.
Maka muncullah suara pertama—dingin, berdebu,
seperti batu yang lama disembunyikan malam.
SUWUNG:
"Kau mencari jawaban, anak waktu.
Namun dirimu sendiri masih bayang di balik kaca.
Mana yang kau pilih: jejak yang tak dapat kembali,
atau dunia yang selalu mengkhianatimu dengan wujud baru?"
Saras menunduk. Ia tidak paham apakah ia sedang ditanya,
atau sedang dihakimi.
Lalu suara kedua muncul—lebih hangat,
lebih manusiawi, tapi tetap menyimpan sesuatu yang liar.
AMONGRAGA:
"Jangan kau kira masa kini lebih benar dari mimpimu.
Tubuhmu menyimpan ingatan yang lebih jujur dari akalmu.
Mengapa kau biarkan logika dan nafsu bertengkar
di ruang sempit dadamu?"
Saras menggigit bibirnya.
Ia tahu suara itu berbicara tentang kegelisahan
yang ia simpan seperti batu panas di bawah lidah:
keinginan untuk melompat ke gelap,
tapi juga ketakutan akan cahaya yang telanjang.
SARAS (berbisik):
"Aku tidak tahu mana aku yang sebenarnya.
Yang di masa lalu terasa asing,
yang di masa kini kabur,
yang di masa depan meragukan.
Semua pintu bagiku seperti ilusi."
Suara Suwung dan Amongraga saling bersilangan,
seperti dua arus sungai yang menolak bercampur.
SUWUNG:
"Itu karena kau terlalu percaya pada batas.
Hitam–putih hanyalah cara dunia memudahkan dirinya sendiri.
Kesadaranmu bukan padat, ia kabut; biarkan ia bentuk dirinya."
AMONGRAGA:
"Namun jangan abaikan tubuhmu.
Tubuh tahu duluan apa yang rohmu sembunyikan.
Tidak semua ilusi adalah kebohongan;
kadang ia hanya anak bungsu dari kenyataan."
Saras terdiam.
Ia tidak ingin menjadi perantara dua dunia;
Ia hanya ingin menjadi dirinya sendiri.
Namun setiap kali ia mencari dirinya,
yang ia temukan adalah paradoks baru.
Suara Suwung merayap lembut:
SUWUNG:
"Ambang adalah rumahmu.
Kau bukan dicipta untuk memilih,
tetapi untuk mengungkap apa yang membuat pilihan itu mungkin."
Suara Amongraga menambahkan:
AMONGRAGA:
"Dan jangan takut pada keinginanmu sendiri.
Kadang nafsu lebih jujur daripada pikiran yang pura-pura bijak."
Saras mengangkat wajahnya.
Untuk pertama kali, ia melihat bahwa retakan itu
bukan ancaman—melainkan peta.
Ia tidak perlu memilih pintu.
Ia adalah pintu itu sendiri.
Dan ketika ia menyadari itu,
suara Suwung dan Amongraga
tidak hilang atau pergi—
mereka kembali diam
di tempat mereka lahir:
kedalaman dirinya sendiri.
Desember 2025”
“Variation does not mean evolution. If an artist varies his mode of expression this only means that he has changed his manner of thinking, and in changing, it might be for the better or it might be for the worse.”
Source: Picasso: style and meaning
“Variation on the Word Sleep
I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head.
and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear
I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in
I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.”
Source: Selected Poems 2: 1976 - 1986
“Variations: II Green light, from the moon, Pours over the dark blue trees, Green light from the autumn moon Pours on the grass ... Green light falls on the goblin fountain Where hesitant lovers meet and pass. They laugh in the moonlight, touching hands, They move like leaves on the wind ... I remember an autumn night like this, And not so long ago, When other lovers were blown like leaves, Before the coming of snow.”
“Varicose veins are the result of an improper selection of grandparents.”
“VaridX is a pioneering company at the forefront of revolutionizing urban living through smart solutions. With a passion for innovation and sustainability, we aim to create smarter, more connected cities that enhance the quality of life for residents. Our smart city solutions and platforms are designed specifically for small to medium-sized cities. With Varidx, building smart cities can reduce costs, optimize operations, and enhance safety and security for their citizens.”
“Varied are the ideas of what constitutes "success," e.g. money, position, power, achievement, honours, and the like. But these are not open to every man-nor do they bring what is real success, namely, happiness.”
“Varies from repetitive disputes to toxic competitions, The Clash of Channels affects the company strategic growth, so rather than growing together as a team, teams members dilute the growth journey by personalizing outputs & focusing on the wrong things, withholding information, imposing their insecurities & surely bringing down workplace moral/ culture”
“Varieties of angels, like varieties of love, are many.”
“Variety improves the things that we do too often, but it rules the things that we don't do often enough.”
“Variety in your diet is health in your life.”
“Variety is a positive requisite even in the character of our food.”
“variety is life; uniformity is death”
“Variety is more than a means of avoiding boredom, since art is more than an entertainment of the senses.”
Source: Entropy and Art: An Essay on Disorder and Order
“Variety is not everything! Viagra is!”
“Variety is precious when it expresses nature more richly by developing various aspects of it; but the variety that consists in producing cripples and abortions instead of normal human beings has nothing to commend it to the lover of mankind.”
Source: The Church
“Variety is the condition of harmony.”
“Variety is the mother of Enjoyment.”
Source: Vivian Grey
“Variety is the pledge that matter makes to living things.”
Source: A Natural History of the Senses
“Variety is the soul of pleasure.”
“Variety is the Spice of Life. Voices come in all shapes, tones, and sizes. Some are compelling and effective, while others are grating and agitating.”
Source: The Art of Communication: 8 Ways to Confirm Clarity & Understanding for Positive Impact
“Variety is the spice of life. We all want surprises.”
“Variety is very, very good. Going from medium to medium, if you get the chance to do it, from theater to television to film, which are all distinctly different, keeps me sharp.”
“Variety is what I would recommend: As variety is the spice of life in food, so it is in exercise. Change it up. But most of all, don't overdo it.”
“Variety made the Revolution. Liberty was just a pretext.”
“Variety may be the spice of life, but consistency pays the bills.”
Source: Outside In
“Variety of form and brilliancy of colour in the objects presented to patients are actual means of recovery.”
“Variety of mere nothings gives more pleasure than uniformity of something.”
Source: Levana; or, The doctrine of education, tr. [by A.H.]. Preceded by a short biogr. of the author [condensed from that of E. Förster] and his autobiography, a fragment
“Variety of uniformities makes complete beauty.”
“Variety's the source of joy below, From whence still fresh-revolving pleasures flow, In books and love the mind one end pursues, And only change the expiring flames renews.”
Source: The Poetical Works of John Gay: With a Life of the Author
“Variety's the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.”
“Variety, as they say, is the spice of life. For me, that counts tenfold in the world of music!”
“Variety, individuality, peculiarity, eccentricity and indeed crankiness are agreeable to the British mind; they make life more interesting.”
“Variety, multiplicity are the two most powerful vehicles of lust.”
Source: Juliette
“Varios especialistas conciben que la literatura es un lugar que uno habita. Y en un país acostumbrado al miedo y a la violencia, la instauración de la ficción es mucho más importante que las obras que crea porque aquí aparecen los relatos que palían nuestro desconcierto. La narrativa nos salva del agravio progresivo de la verdad; imagínense que sin ella seríamos un país enorme que se desenvuelve como una película de terror, una obra de ciencia ficción, o como una novela negra.”
Source: Años de elecciones