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Roman Quotes

Browse 177 quotes about Roman.

Roman Quotes

“Somewhere I’d heard, or invented perhaps, that the only pleasures found during a waning moon are misfortunes in disguise. Superstition aside, I avoid pleasure during the waning or absent moon out of respect for the bounty this world offers me. I profit from great harvests in life and believe in the importance of seasons.”

“Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent. When she came to my bed and begged me with sighs not to tempt her towards passion nor actions unwise, I told her I’d spare her and kissed her closed eyes, then unbraided her body of its clothing disguise. While our bodies were nude bathed in candlelight fine I devoured her mouth, tender lips divine; and I drank through her thighs her feminine wine. Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent.”

“What a face this girl possessed!—Could I neither die then nor gaze at her face every day, I would need to recreate it through painting or sculpture, or through fatherhood, until a second such face could be born.”

“Our lips were for each other and our eyes were full of dreams. We knew nothing of travel and we knew nothing of loss. Ours was a world of eternal spring, until the summer came.”

“Ô, Muse of the Heart’s Passion, let me relive my Love’s memory, to remember her body, so brave and so free, and the sound of my Dreameress singing to me, and the scent of my Dreameress sleeping by me, Ô, sing, sweet Muse, my soliloquy!”

“It’s not that we have to leave this life one day, it's how many things we have to leave all at once: holding hands, hotel rooms, wine, summertime, drunkenness, and the physics of falling leaves, clothing, myrrh, perfumed hair, flirting friends, two strangers' glance; the reflection of the moon, with words like, 'Soon' ... 'do you want me?' ... '...to lie enlaced' ... 'and sleep entwined' thinking ahead, with thoughts behind...?' Ô, Why! Why can’t we leave this life slowly?”

“I sat up in the strange bed fearing it had been a dream, afraid I would never see her again. Not because I wanted anything from her, only her presence. The disappearance of the presence of beauty is the most despairing of events on this time-wheel of ours that rolls onward towards death.”

“Ô, Wanderess, Wanderess When did you feel your most euphoric kiss? Was I the source of your greatest bliss?”

“Wherever you go in the next catastrophé Be it sickroom, or prison, or cemet’ry Do not fear that your stay will be solit’ry Countless souls share your fate, you’ll have company!”

“This was how it was with travel: one city gives you gifts, another robs you. One gives you the heart’s affections, the other destroys your soul. Cities and countries are as alive, as feeling, as fickle and uncertain as people. Their degrees of love and devotion are as varying as with any human relation. Just as one is good, another is bad.”

“I ran across an excerpt today (in English translation) of some dialogue/narration from the modern popular writer, Paulo Coelho in his book: Aleph.(Note: bracketed text is mine.)... 'I spoke to three scholars,' [the character says 'at last.'] ...two of them said that, after death, the [sic (misprint, fault of the publisher)] just go to Paradise. The third one, though, told me to consult some verses from the Koran. [end quote]' ...I can see that he's excited. [narrator]' ...Now I have many positive things to say about Coelho: He is respectable, inspiring as a man, a truth-seeker, and an appealing writer; but one should hesitate to call him a 'literary' writer based on this quote. A 'literary' author knows that a character's excitement should be 'shown' in his or her dialogue and not in the narrator's commentary on it. Advice for Coelho: Remove the 'I can see that he's excited' sentence and show his excitement in the phrasing of his quote.(Now, in defense of Coelho, I am firmly of the opinion, having myself written plenty of prose that is flawed, that a novelist should be forgiven for slipping here and there.)Lastly, it appears that a belief in reincarnation is of great interest to Mr. Coelho ... Just think! He is a man who has achieved, (as Leonard Cohen would call it), 'a remote human possibility.' He has won lots of fame and tons of money. And yet, how his preoccupation with reincarnation—none other than an interest in being born again as somebody else—suggests that he is not happy!”

“In the first place, sensation (aisthesis) is a corporeal process which we have in common with animals, and in which the impression of an exterior object is transmitted to the soul. By means of this process, an image (phantasia) of the object is produced in the soul, or more precisely in the guiding part (hegemonikon) of the soul”

“When he, whoever of the gods it was, had thus arranged in order and resolved that chaotic mass, and reduced it, thus resolved, to cosmic parts, he first moulded the Earth into the form of a mighty ball so that it might be of like form on every side … And, that no region might be without its own forms of animate life, the stars and divine forms occupied the floor of heaven, the sea fell to the shining fishes for their home, Earth received the beasts, and the mobile air the birds … Then Man was born:… though all other animals are prone, and fix their gaze upon the earth, he gave to Man an uplifted face and bade him stand erect and turn his eyes to heaven.”

“It is growing cold. Winter is putting footsteps in the meadow. What whiteness boasts that sun that comes into this wood! One would say milk-colored maidens are dancing on the petals of orchids. How coldly burns our sun! One would say its rays of light are shards of snow, one imagines the sun lives upon a snow crested peak on this day. One would say she is a woman who wears a gown of winter frost that blinds the eyes. Helplessness has weakened me. Wandering has wearied my legs.”

“The season was waning fast Our nights were growing cold at last I took her to bed with silk and song, 'Lay still, my love, I won’t be long; I must prepare my body for passion.' 'O, your body you give, but all else you ration.' 'It is because of these dreams of a sylvan scene: A bleeding nymph to leave me serene... I have dreams of a trembling wench.' 'You have dreams,' she said, 'that cannot be quenched.' 'Our passion,' said I, 'should never be feared; As our longing for love can never be cured. Our want is our way and our way is our will, We have the love, my love, that no one can kill.' 'If night is your love, then in dreams you’ll fulfill... This love, our love, that no one can kill.' Yet want is my way, and my way is my will, Thus I killed my love with a sleeping pill.”

“After joyfully working each morning, I would leave off around midday to challenge myself to a footrace. Speeding along the sunny paths of the Jardin du Luxembourg, ideas would breed like aphids in my head—for creative invention is easy and sublime when air cycles quickly through the lungs and the body is busy at noble tasks.”

“Did I live the spring I’d sought? It’s true in joy, I walked along, took part in dance, and sang the song. and never tried to bind an hour to my borrowed garden bower; nor did I once entreat a day to slumber at my feet. Yet days aren’t lulled by lyric song, like morning birds they pass along, o’er crests of trees, to none belong; o’er crests of trees of drying dew, their larking flight, my hands, eschew Thus I’ll say it once and true… From all that I saw, and everywhere I wandered, I learned that time cannot be spent, It only can be squandered.”

“English: Ô, take this eager dance you fool, don’t brandish your stick at me. I have several reasons to travel on, on to the endless sea: I have lost my love. I’ve drunk my purse. My girl has gone, and left me rags to sleep upon. These old man’s gloves conceal the hands with which I’ve killed but one! Francais: Idiot, prends cette danse ardente, au lieu de tendre ton bâton. J'en ai des raisons de voyager encore sur la mer infinie: J'ai perdu l'amour et j'ai bu ma bourse. Ma belle m'a quitté, j'ai ses haillons pour m'abriter. Mes gants de vieillard cachent les mains d'un fameux assassin!”

“İdam sehpasının birkaç metre ötesinden, Saint-Jean-Decolle tarikatından dört keşiş, siyah kukuletaları, kaba kumaştan giysileri içinde, idam mahkûmlarına işkence yapılmasından sorumlu bu dört din adamı, mahkûmlar kilisesinden, Beatrice'in babasının ikinci eşini -baba katlinde suç ortağı ve ensest olayının tanığı olan kişiyi çıkarıyorlardı. İlk o ölecekti. Kadın ayakta duramıyordu; onu baltaya götürecek olan güvenlik görevlilerinin oluşturduğu çitin arasında bitkindi. İki keşiş onu koltuk altlarından tutuyordu. Ötekisi de ölüme layıkıyla gitmesini salık veren sözler söylüyordu kulağına. Sonuncusu ise, onun yüzü hizasında bir ayna tutar gibi, idam sehpasını görmesini engelleyen, boyalı bir tahta levha tutuyordu. Bu tahta üzerinde Vaftizci Yahya'nın (Saint-Jean-Baptise) gümüş tepsi içindeki kesik başının tasviri vardı. Acıdan tükenmiş haldeydi, elinde baltasıyla onu bekleyen celladı görünce, mahkûm kadın bayıldı. Sehpaya çıkardıkları, bilinci yerinde olmayan zavallı bir kadındı. Onu kesme kütüğüne yatırdılar. Görülecek ne var gerisinde? Gerisi kasaplık. Asıl dram sonrasındaydı. Kiliseden tek başına, hızla ilerleyen, Beatrice'in silueti çıktı. Bütün kent haykırdı. Acıma, hayranlık, öfke; bütün Roma, hapishanelerinden saraylarına dek aynı heyecanla sarsılmış gibiydi. İdam sehpasının altındaki ressam grubu hariç; onlar, ses çıkarmadan oldukları yerde kaldılar. Ellerinde kâğıt kalemleri, en küçük bir ayrıntıyı kaçırmamak kaygısı içindeydiler. İnsanlar; üç dört hatta beş kadar idama alışık olsalar da, kutlamalar öncesi bir dönemde, böylesi güzel ve soylu bir kadının idam edilmesi sık rastlanan bir durum değildi. Bu neredeyse bir çocuktu, yapılan işkencelere dokuz saat boyunca dayandığı söyleniyordu ve oradaki herkes onu masum buluyordu. Roma halkı, kalabalığın içinden dimdik, kendinden emin, Tanrıya dualar ederek Papaya hakaretler okuyarak ilerleyen bu genç kızın gösterdiği yüreklilikte, Reform karşıtlarının, Katolikler anısına Hıristiyan sanatçılara sipariş ettikleri, Sainte Catherine, Sainte Ursula ve Sainte Cecile gibi azizeleri görmekteydi. Hemen sonrasında bir sessizlik oldu. Genç kız kafasını kesme kütüğüne koydu. Celladın kollarını havaya kaldırdığı görüldü. Baltanın gün ışığında yalkın verdiği görüldü. Yalnızca bunlar görüldü: güneş, balta ve Saint-Pierre Kilisesi'nin kubbesi. Kollar tekrar aşağı indi. Boğuk bir çarpma sesi duyulur gibi oldu. Halk haykırdı. Baba despotluğunun ve papa haksızlığının kurbanı bir genç kızın kafasını gördüklerinde, korku, acıma, öfke ve kin dolu bir çığlık yükseldi. Gösteriyi yakından izlemeyi başarmış olan ressamlar arasında soğukkanlılığını koruyabilen iki kişi vardı. Bir baba ve kızı. Orazio Gentileschi ve küçük Artemisia.”