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Rosa Quotes

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Rosa Quotes

“So how long do I have before—what were their names? Carl and Rosa? Yeah, that’s them. How long do I have before they come back?” “I don’t know. Maybe...maybe an hour or so?” My hands felt incredibly small in his. That lopsided grin was back. “I doubt they’d be happy to find me here.” “Why?” His brows rose. “Maybe I’m wrong. They used to coming home to find some strange guy sitting on their couch?” I rolled my eyes. “That’s it, isn’t it?” Rider tugged on my hands, and I rose, letting him pull me down to the couch beside him. He leaned back, sliding one arm around my shoulders and tucking me against his side. “Just par for the course with you, huh?” I didn’t know what to do with my hands since he’d let go of them, so I folded them in my lap. “I’ve never had a...guy here.” Rider stiffened and then he twisted his neck so he was looking at me. Did I seriously admit that out loud? Squeezing my eyes shut, I sighed. “I’m just...going to shut up now.” He chuckled. “Don’t do that. I like listening to you talk.”

“She pulled up to the curb in front of number 115, a boxy house with a garden so neat that people sometimes slowed down to admire it. A pruned hedge guarded the profusion of roses that bloomed from spring to winter. Each of the roses had a name. Not the proper name of its variety, but Salvatore, Roberto, Rosina- each one planted in honor of their first communion. There were also roses that honored relatives in Italy whom Rosa had never met, and a few for people she didn't know- La Donna, a scarlet beauty, and a coral floribunda whose name she couldn't remember. The sturdy bush by the front step, covered in creamy-white blooms, was the Celesta, of course. A few feet away was the one Rosa, a six-year-old with a passion for Pepto-Bismol pink, had chosen for herself. Mamma had been so proud of her that day, beaming down like an angel from heaven. It was one of those memories Rosa cherished, because it was so clear in her heart and mind.”

“When I got home, a spicy scent lured me into the kitchen. My stomach grumbled and I might’ve started drooling the moment I spotted the cheesy enchiladas cooling on the counter. They were drenched in homemade queso. My favorite. Dropping my bag on the floor, I skipped over to where Rosa was placing the plates on the table. I wrapped my arms around her from behind and squeezed. Rosa laughed as she turned. “It’s the queso, isn’t it?” Nodding, I dropped my arms and stepped back.”

“Ah, allora è così che succede. Quella faccenda dell'uscire dal proprio corpo, intendo. Mi sento sollevare in alto, ma non poi tanto. E non è che mi veda fluttuare sospesa sopra il mio corpo. No. Sento solo caldo sul lato destro, dalla spalla fino alla coscia. Il che è strano. Non mi risulta che in paradiso ci si possa andare solo per metà. Forse la mia vita è talmente incasinata che persino il Padreterno deve prendersi un po' di tempo per capire che deve farci, con me.”

“Hey, ≤i≥ mami,” ≤/i≥ Hector called out, his grin spreading as he bit down on his lower lip. ≤i≥ “Que cuerpo tan brutal.”≤/i≥ I had no idea what he’d just said, but it seemed to be directed at me. “Shut up,” Rider replied, planting his large hand in Hector’s face and shoving him back into the driver’s side of the car. ≤i≥ “No la mires.” ≤/i≥ *** “Wait,” I said, surprising the crap out of myself as she faced me, eyes wide. My cheeks heated. “What...does no la mires mean?” I’d totally butchered the words like a typical white girl who couldn’t speak any form of Spanish would. Her brows shot up again. “Why are you asking that?” I raised my shoulders. “Did someone say that to you?” When I didn’t answer, because I was no longer sure I wanted to know what it meant, she sighed. “It basically translates to don’t look at her.””

“HANNAH: ....English landscape was invented by gardeners imitating foreign painters who were evoking classical authors. The whole thing was brought home in the luggage from the Grand Tour. Here, look -- Capability Brown doing Claude, who was doing Virgil. Arcadia! And here, superimposed by Richard Noakes, untamed nature in the style of Salvator Rosa. It's the Gothic novel expressed in landscape. Everything but vampires.”

“About Justice departing from the shepherds: Justice illustrates a passage from Virgil's Georgics, in which he describes how Astraea, the goddess of Justice, who used to live among mortals during the Golden Age, took refuge among country people, as times degenerated, and at length fled even from them. Rosa shows the cloud-borne goddess departing from a tumbledown farmstead as she hands her sword and scales to a bemused group of peasants, one of whom awkwardly pulls of his hat in respect.”

“... He was a bad courtier and painted an ambiguous picture entitled La Menzogna or Falsehood, to show what he felt about the need for dissimulation to achieve success; a man holds up a mask to indicate to his companion that he must adopt it if he wants to make progress at court... ... The clear message was that Rosa was not prepared to demean himself in that way.”

“I am above the forest region, amongst grand rocks & such a torrent as you see in Salvator Rosa's paintings vegetation all a scrub of rhodos. with Pines below me as thick & bad to get through as our Fuegian Fagi on the hill tops, & except the towering peaks of P. S. [perpetual snow] that, here shoot up on all hands there is little difference in the mt scenery—here however the blaze of Rhod. flowers and various colored jungle proclaims a differently constituted region in a naturalist's eye & twenty species here, to one there, always are asking me the vexed question, where do we come from? [Letter to Charles Darwin 24 Jun 1849]”

“It's been an incredible few weeks for Emma Pooley, first winning three stages in the Giro Rosa to demonstrate that she's the best climber in the women's peloton, then lining up for La Course - a race she helped to make happen - on the Champs-Elyses. So, it may come as a surprise to hear that she will retire after the Commonwealth Games road race on Sunday.”

“Rosa Parks was an unlikely person, but she became an instrument of the people's will in that community who were tired. They said she was tired from working and perhaps she was - but she herself said later that she was spiritually tired and weary of being humiliated by being asked to move back so that a white person could occupy her seat.”

“We live in a society that says "You Gotta get yours" and I'm not suggesting that you don't handle your business but I want to show people... Gandhi gave, Mother Theresa gave, Martin Luther King gave, Rosa Parks gave, Sojourner Truth gave, and these people had a rich life! They may have not had a Rolls Royce, Range Rover, or lived in the best neighborhoods but they changed history forever and they changed lives forever and that's what I aim to do.”

“The domestic NSA-led Surveillance State which Frank Church so stridently warned about has obviously come to fruition. The way to avoid its grip is simply to acquiesce to the nation's most powerful factions, to obediently remain within the permitted boundaries of political discourse and activism. Accepting that bargain enables one to maintain the delusion of freedom - "he who does not move does not notice his chains," observed Rosa Luxemburg - but the true measure of political liberty is whether one is free to make a different choice.”

“The answer comes to me through studying the lives of the Rosa Parks and the Vaclav Havels and the Nelson Mandelas and the Dorothy Days of this world. These are people who have come to understand that no punishment that anybody could lay on us could possibly be worse than the punishment we lay on ourselves by conspiring in our own diminishment, by living a divided life, by failing to make that fundamental decision to act and speak on the outside in ways consonant with what we know to be true on the inside.”