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V Quotes

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All V Quotes

“Veio a questão do título. Pestana, quando compôs a primeira polca, em 1871, quis dar-lhe um título poético, escolheu este: Pingos de Sol. O editor abanou a cabeça, e disse-lhe que os títulos deviam ser, já de si, destinados à popularidade – ou por alusão a algum sucesso do dia, ou pela graça das palavras; indicou-lhe dois: A lei de 28 de setembro, ou Candongas não fazem festa. – Mas que quer dizer Candongas não fazem festa? – perguntou o autor. – Não quer dizer nada, mas populariza-se logo.”

“Vejo esses que chegam e saem a todo tempo. Tão seguros de si, tão felizes e prósperos. Dá uma vontade grande de chamar cada um e pedir, Deixa eu te contar uma história? Era uma vez um país que ficou décadas sem poder escolher o presidente, daí quando foi possível isso acontecer novamente escolheram tão errado que o novo cara meteu a mão na grana de todo mundo, sem pestanejar. E fez tanta merda que foi expulso do trono, e o irmão e o braço direito dele morreram de forma esquisita, e então ficou todo mundo olhando um para o outro dizendo, A culpa foi sua de ter colocado ele lá. Aí veio gente dizer que era melhor antes, quando outros escolhiam, porque essa galera não está preparada para a liberdade, e fim de papo. O cachorro correndo atrás do próprio rabo, e quando o morde tem raiva de estar sendo atacado, e então revida mordendo mais forte ainda.”

“Vejo religiosos chamarem cientistas de arrogantes. Pensar que você é centro do universo, isso é arrogância. Ego é a separação nossa do todo. Pensar que você é centro de tudo, desde o universo a da natureza, esse é um ego maior do que o próprio mundo. O cristianismo é feito de hipocrisia, a maior delas, o senso de humildade, que é falso.”

“Veld, that space within most South African hearts that mirrors the open expanse of land where the greatness of life resides in the vastness of grasslands captured in the imaginations of wanderers and adventurer seekers alike when we stop our overthinking and optimize our ability to enjoy life’s unscripted moments that are wide-open and usually – right in front of us. Veld, a word for the miracle of newness and the appreciation for the life that is waiting to be lived, one grass blade at a time, and a lesson for humans in appreciating the fullness of life’s abundance when we slowdown the pace of our own world to absorb the miracles happening all around us – at any given moment. Veld, although this word literally means an open expanse, that is what life around us is truly about – an open expanse of miracles just waiting on us for our sense to mature… The magic of South Africa, a spell that will leave your heart as open as the veld and the expanse beyond that. A lesson in feeling small…”

“Velius--so who is she? no wait, let me guess. skin of the finest porcelain. hair of the softest silk. a voice like birdsong, a smile like sunshine, and a mouth that would sate your brightest and darkest wishes Rumbold-- You've m-met her? Velius--oh yes, my friend. we all know her. we've all pursued her. some of us have even been lucky enough to have her. we've been drunk on her sin, become fools of her favor. she might have borne a different face each time, but her name was always the same. Trouble”

“Velizy. All those shepherds in the Pyrenees who are being fitted out with fibre optics, radio relay stations and cable TV. Obviously the stakes are pretty high! And not just in social terms. Did these people think they were already living in society, with their neighbours, their animals, their stories? What a scandalously underdeveloped condition they were in, what a monstrous deprivation of all the blessings of information, what barbaric solitude they were kept in, with no possibility of expressing themselves, or anything. We used to leave them in peace. If they were called on, it was to get them to come and die in the towns, in the factories or in a war. Why have we suddenly developed a need for them, when they have no need of anything? What do we want them to serve as witnesses of? Because we'll force them to if we have to: the new terror has arrived, not the terror of 1984, but that of the twenty-first century. The new negritude has arrived, the new servitude. There is already a roll-call of the martyrs of information. The Bretons whose TV pictures are restored as soon as possible after the relay stations have been blown up . . . Velizy . . . in the Pyrenees. The new guinea pigs. The new hostages. Crucified on the altar of information, pilloried at their consoles. Buried alive under information. All this to make them admit the inexpressible service that is being done to them, to extort from them a confession of their sociality, of their 'normal' condition as associated anthropoids. Socialism is destroying the position of the intellectual. Unlearn what they say. Either they don't believe in it themselves or the violent effort they make to believe in it is disagreeable.”

“Velutha looked down at Ambassador Insect in his arms He put her down. Shaking too. "And look at you!" he said, looking at her ridiculous frothy frock "So beautiful! Getting married?" Rahel lunged at his armpits and tickled him mercilessly. Ickilee ickilee ickilee! "I saw you yesterday," she said. "Where?" Velutha made his voice high and surprised. "Liar" Rahel said. "Liar and pretender. I did see you. You were a Communist and had a shirt and a flag. And you ignored me." "Aiyyo kashtam," Velutha said. "Would I do that? You tell me, would Velutha ever do that? It must've been my Long-lost Twin brother." "Which Long-lost Twin brother?" "Urumban, silly... The one who lives in Kochi." "Who Urumban?" Then she saw the twinkle. "Liar! You haven't got a Twin brother! It wasn't Urumban! It was you!" Velutha laughed. He had a lovely laugh that he really meant "Wasn't me," he said. "I was sick in bed." "See, you’re smiling!" Rahel said. "That means it was you Smiling means 'It was you.'" "That's only in English'’ Velutha said. "In Malayalam my teacher always said that 'Smiling means it wasn’t me.'" It took Rahel a moment to sort that one out. She lunged at him once again. Ickilee ickilee ickilee! (169(”

“Velvet looks horrified. “If you are fool enough to address King R’jan, you will do it thus and in no other manner! ‘My King, Liege, Lord, and Master, your servant begs you grant it leave to speak.’” “Wow. Totally delusionary there.” “Good luck with that,” Ryodan says. “She doesn't beg to speak, or do anything else. You can lock her up, down, and sideways and it’s never going to happen.” I beam at him. I had no idea he thought so highly of me.”

“Vem, o tempo urge... as constelações já iniciaram o movimento de mudança de hemisfério, e as dunas fenderam-se onde o mar avançou, e o mar toca-nos os olhos e o sono. Vem, antes que os cardos se espalhem com o vento, e a geada esconda a água dos poços, e a noite acabe, assim, sem prevenir, dentro de uma mão que se fecha à luz. Vem, antes que os meus olhos só vejam o que tu não vês, e as minhas mãos já não toquem o que tu tocaste... e a tua boca se canse de procurar o que de ti ainda possuo, e do teu nome não reste mais que uma metade do meu.”

“Vemos un insecto palo gigante y un grupo de mariposas cuyas alas parecen hojas de rosal. Entonces me viene a la memoria un artículo sobre mimetismo que leí de joven en la Enciclopedia Espasa, donde se decía que algunos gusanos adoptaban la forma de un excremento de pájaro para evitar que esos mismos pájaros los devorasen. Me pregunté entonces, y me pregunto ahora, si vale la pena conservar la vida a cambio de parecer una mierda. Mantengo hacia el mimetismo una actitud ambivalente. De un lado, me fascina; de otro, me parece uno de los recursos más humillantes de la naturaleza. Hay otro bicho que cobra, para defenderse de sus depredadores, el aspecto de un cadáver recubierto de moho. Están a salvo, sí, pero a qué precio. «No te signifiques, hijo», decían las madres de mi época cuando nos veían salir de casa con la barba y la trenca. No significarse quería decir pasar inadvertido o ser tomado por una caca o por un cadáver en estado de descomposición. Lo importante era que no se fijaran en ti porque, una vez localizado, podías servir de alimento a especies más violentas que la tuya. Había en el servicio militar un sargento que aconsejaba lo mismo que las madres, aunque de un modo más plástico: «Los que estén gordos que adelgacen y los que estén delgados que engorden». No parezcas árabe, en fin, ni negro, ni chino, ni anarquista, ni siquiera socialdemócrata. No te signifiques. Mimetízate. Adelgaza si estás gordo y engorda si estás flaco. No has elegido el mejor momento para ser distinto, muchacho, qué pretendes. Procura no parecer ni sí ni no, ni carne ni pescado. Disimula las ideas, no disientas, no te signifiques, no destaques. Si a un insecto no le parece mal que lo confundan con una rama seca, por qué ese empeño tuyo en parecer alguien. Haz como que bajas las escaleras cuando las subes y como que las subes cuando las bajas. No levantes la voz, guarda las apariencias, adelgaza, engorda, ven, vete, sal, entra. Sobrevive, en fin, finge ser una caca, un palo, una corteza. Y en casa a las diez”

“Ven, mi amor, en la tarde del Aniene y siéntate conmigo a ver viento. Aunque no estés, mi solo pensamiento es ver contigo el viento que va y viene. Tú no te vas, porque mi amor te tiene. Yo no me iré, pues junto a ti me siento más vida de tu sangre, más tu aliento, más luz del corazón que me sostiene Tú no te irás, mi amor, aunque lo quieras. Tú no te irás, mi amor, y si te fueras, Aun yéndote, mi amor, jamás te irías. Es tuya mi canción, en ella estoy. Y en ese viento que va y viene voy. Y en ese viento siempre, me verías.”

“Vendar ni vedno vsako življenje, ki se ga živi, zares izživeto. Ne izkoristi vsakdo svojega potenciala. Pa ne, ker ga ne bi znal, ampak ker se ljudje na splošno svojega potenciala ne zavedamo. Ko smo s toliko različnih strani bombardirani, kaj vse bi morali biti, početi in postati, hitro pozabimo na tisto notranjo sliko, ki smo jo kot otroci o sebi navdušeno nadgrajevali. In tako vera vase postane dvom.”

“Vending innovation isn't dead. Some machines use facial recognition software to guess which drink you're in the mood for (based mostly on your gender and the time of day, I was told). Iris and I always liked to stop at the machine on the Nakano Station platform that dispensed slushy iced drinks like cocoa-strawberry, matcha, and Ramune. (Ramune is a soda known for its unusual bottle, which has a glass marble in the neck, and for coming in various flavors like orange, red, and blue, all of which taste the same to me.)”

“Venecia es como Chongqing, pero mientras Chongqing construye una falsa San Gimignano como decorado de un parque temático, en Venecia el parque temático ya está hecho: es la ciudad histórica. En este panorama, los pocos supervivientes del pueblo de Venecia, en su mayor parte exiliados a los nuevos suburbios de tierra firme, irían de vez en cuando a la plaza de San Marcos en un metro que pase por debajo de la laguna, mientras los verdaderos dueños de la ciudad - las hordas de turistas- entrarían en ella por arriba en sus barcos-rascacielos.”

“Venerable age had not, for him, arranged that derelict landscape against which it is privileged to sit and pick its nose, break wind, and damn the course of youth groping among the obstacles erected, dutifully, by its own hands earlier, along the way of that sublime delusion known as the pursuit of happiness. Not to be confused with the state of political bigotry, mental obstinacy, financial security, sensual atrophy, emotional penury, and spiritual collapse which, under the name “maturity”, animated lives around him, it might be said that Reverend Gwyon had reached maturity.”

“Venerable are letters, infinitely brave, forlorn, and lost. Life would split asunder without them. 'Come to tea, come to dinner, what's the truth of the story? have you heard the news? life in the capital is wonderful; the Russian dancers....' These are our stays and props. These lace our days together and make of life a perfect globe.”