Best 126 quotes in «roman quotes» category

About five meters ahead, Nico was swinging his black sword with one hand, holding the scepter of Diocletian aloft with the other. He kept shouting orders at the legionnaires, but they paid him no attention. Of course not, Frank thought. He's Greek. [...] Jason's face was already beaded with sweat. He kept shouting in Latin: "Form ranks!" But the dead legionnaires wouldn't listen to him, either. [...] "Make way!" Frank shouted. To his surprise, the dead legionnaires parted for him. The closest ones turned and stared at him with blank eyes, as if waiting for further orders. "Oh, great..." Frank mumbled.

After the Egyptian and Indian, the Greek and Roman, the Teuton and Mongolian, the Negro is a sort of seventh son, born with a veil, and gifted with second-sight in this American world,—a world which yields him no true self-consciousness, but only lets him see himself through the revelation of the other world. It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity. One ever feels his two-ness,—an American, a Negro... two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder. The history of the American Negro is the history of this strife, — this longing to attain self-conscious manhood, to merge his double self into a better and truer self.

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.

Across the Reich, the Gestapo recorded increased the activity of anti-state elements. It’s kind of a helpless protest by those wretches against our celebration of victory. They organize bomb attacks against representatives of the Reich or against the civilian German population. We’ve also noticed murder-suicides. Eighty-seven civilians killed have been reported during the last week. From the Protectorate of Bohmen und Mahren, the destruction of Peter Brezovsky’s long-sought military cell was announced. From Ostmark…” “Enough,” Beck interrupted him, “I’m interested only in Brezovsky.” That name caused him discomfort. In his mind, he returned to the Bohemian Forest in 1996. It was in a different dimension, before he had used time travel. At the time, Peter Brezovsky was the only man who had passed through the Time Gate. He’d offered him a position by his side during the building of the Great German Reich. He’d refused. Too bad, he could have used a man like him. These dummies weren’t eager enough to fulfill his instructions. He also remembered Werner Dietrich, who had died in the slaughter during an inspection in the Protectorate. “… in the sector 144-5. It was a temporary base of the group. There were apparently targeted explosions of the surrounding buildings,” the man continued. “This area interests me. I want to know everything that’s happening there. Go on,” he ordered the man. He was flattered at the leader’s sudden interest. Raising his head proudly, he stretched his neck even more and continued, “For your entertainment, Herr Führer, our two settlers, living in this area from 1960, on June the twenty first, met two suspect men dressed in leather like savages. The event, of course, was reported to the local department of the Gestapo. It’s funny because during the questioning of one of Brezovsky’s men we learnt an interesting story related to these men.” He relaxed a little. The atmosphere in the room was less strained, too. He smiled slightly, feeling self-importance. “In 1942, a certain woman from the Bohemian Forest made a whacky prophecy. Wait a minute.” He reached into the jacket and pulled out a little notebook. “I wrote it down, it’ll certainly amuse you. Those Slavic dogs don’t know what to do, and so they take refuge in similar nonsense.” He opened the notebook and began to read, “Government of darkness will come. After half a century of the Devil’s reign, on midsummer’s day, on the spot where he came from, two men will appear in flashes. These two warriors will end the dominance of the despot and will return natural order to the world.” During the reading, men began to smile and now some of them were even laughing aloud. “Stop it, idiots!” screamed Beck furiously. In anger, he sprang from behind his desk and severely hit the closest man’s laughing face. A deathly hush filled the room. Nobody understood what had happened. What could make the Führer so angry? This was the first time he had hit somebody in public. Beck wasn’t as angry as it might look. He was scared to death. This he had been afraid of since he had passed through the Time Gate. Since that moment, he knew this time would come one day. That someone would use the Time Gate and destroy everything he’d built. That couldn’t happen! Never! “Do you have these men?” he asked threateningly. Reich Gestapo Commander regretted he’d spoken about it. He wished he’d bitten his tongue. This innocent episode had caused the Führer’s unexpected reaction. His mouth went dry. Beck looked terrifying. “Herr Führer,” he spoke quietly, “unfortunately…” “Aloud!” yelled Beck. “Unfortunately we don’t, Herr Führer. But they probably died during the action of the Gestapo against Brezovsky. His body, as well as the newcomers, wasn’t found. The explosion probably blew them up,” he said quickly. “The explosion probably blew them up,” Beck parodied him viciously, “and that was enough for you, right?

A lot of countries surrounding Italy aren't so bad. That's because the Roman Empire conquered and raped their women. So there is a little bit of Italian in everybody! This is good news, as all Italians bear this in mind when dealing with our neighbors and other foreign-fucked, heavily raped countries, and it gives us the resolve and compassion to deal with their bullshit.

As far as concerns the army, I don't know which people among us can claim to be more disciplined and closer to the order of the Romans than the Turks.

Au-delà d'un certain âge, traverser la ville donne désagréablement à penser. Les adresses des morts s'accumulent.

A writer needs to ingest love to be passionate. Passion is a metabolite of love, and good writing is an active metabolite of passion.

Bana anılarla dolu eski bir ev ver, sana yüz roman vereyim!

Before he left Rome, Marcus had been in a fair way to becoming a charioteer, in Cradoc's sense of the word, and now desire woke in him, not to possess this team, for he was not one of those who much be able to say "Mine" before they can truly enjoy a thing, but to have them out and harnessed; to feel the vibrating chariot floor under him, and the spread reins quick with life in his hands, and these lovely, fiery little creatures in the traces, his will and theirs at one.

Be there a picnic for the devil, an orgy for the satyr, and a wedding for the bride.

A quel point la culpabilité raffinait-elle les façons de se torturer, enfilant les perles du détail en boucle sans fin, un chapelet à égrener pour la vie !

A Roman centurion walks into a bar and orders a martinus. The bartender says, "Don't you mean a martini?" The centurion answers, "If I wanted a double I would have ordered it.

Atunci am înțeles că nimic nu durează în suflet, că cea mai verificată încredere poate fi anulată de un singur gest, că cele mai sincere posesiuni nu dovedesc niciodată nimic, căci și sinceritatea poate fi repetată, cu altul, cu alții, că, în sfârșit, totul se uită sau se poate uita.

Bahkan masa lalu saja bilang kita tak punya masa depan.

Bărbatul şi femeia se caută în vălmăşagul imens al vieţii omeneşti. Un bărbat din milioanele de bărbaţi doreşte pe o singură femeie din milioanele de femei. Unul singur şi una singură. Adam şi Eva.

Benzer düşünceler, aceminin haftalar veya aylarını 'literatüre hakim olma'ya harcaması için de sözkonusudur. Kitap öğretisine aşırı bağımlılık hayal gücünü sınırlayıcı ve köstekleyici bir etki yapar. Başkalarının yaptığı araştırmalar üzerinde durmaksızın kafa yormak bazen, psikolojik açıdan, bizzat araştırma yapmanın yerini tutmaktadır; tıpkı roman okumanın, gerçek hayatta yaşanılacak romanların yerini alması gibi.

Bilmezlik ve umut içinde gönüllü bir beklenti hali... İşte böyle yaşıyordu çoğu insan.

Buat apa merisikokan patah hati untuk orang yang nggak benar-benar bisa membuatmu jatuh hati?

Caine Carraway im Anzug war ein Anblick für die Götter. Cain Carraway ohne Anzug war heiß wie die Sünde.

Ce-i cu ochii tăi? Parcă ard! O să fie o zi când ai să te uiţi aşa în ochii altui bărbat?

Ce moment avait été imaginé et désiré depuis trop longtemps pour être à leur mesure.

Cine vrea să explice totul prin cuvinte ajunge curând să nu poată explica nimic! Sufletul n-are nevoie de cuvinte pentru a înţelege.

C'est toujours dans les yeux qu'on voit si les gents sont tristes ou heureux. le regard, on peux pas le maquiller. Luca avait les yeux tristes. Même quand il souriait.

Dacă nu-i vezi lacrimile unui om, nu înseamnă că el nu plânge pe ascuns în sufletul lui.

Celebrate the Ides of March but remember your own warnings less as Caesar learned, you can get killed in many ways

Dacă mă judeci doar după trecutul meu, să nu te miri dacă vei ajunge să faci parte din el.

Doolittle nodded to one of his assistants. The short, slight woman approached Roman's cot. "We're going to put you in your own private room." "Is this a code for killing me?" Roman asked. "Because I won't be easy to take down." Roman the Volhv)))

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.

Du darfst deinen Boss nicht gleich am ersten Tag umbringen. Du darfst deinen Boss nicht gleich am ersten Tag umbringen. Du darfst deinen Boss nicht umbringen, Punkt.

Discover how to visit the past and bring yesterday's stories into our lives today

Elle faisait confiance à la vie pour lui envoyer des indices, des idées, des détails qu'elle convertirait en histoires. C'est comme ça qu'elle avait écrit son premier livre. En ouvrant grand les yeux sur le monde. En écoutant, en observant, en reniflant. C'est comme ça aussi qu'on ne vieillit pas. On vieillit quand on s'enferme, on refuse de voir, d'entendre ou de respirer. La vie et l’écriture, ça va souvent ensemble.

Elle murmura son nom avec la circonspection d'un enfant qui s'essaie à des sons distincts. Lorsqu'il énonça le sien en réponse, on aurait dit un mot nouveau - les syllabes restaient les mêmes, le sens était différent. Enfin, il prononça ces trois mots simples que nul art médiocre, nulle mauvaise foi ne réussiront jamais à déprécier tout à fait. Elle les répéta, avec exactement la même légère insistance sur le dernier mot, comme si elle était la première à les dire...

En cet instant qui s'étiolait, il découvrit qu'il n'avait jamais éprouvé de haine envers quiconque jusqu'ici. C'était un sentiment aussi pur que l'amour, mais exempt de passion et d'une rationnalité glacée.

Endlich nahm er meine kleine Hand in seine große. Die Haut seiner Handflächen war leicht rau, und die Reibung sandte Funken durch meinen Arm. All meine Muskeln, selbst die in meinen Fingern, zogen sich vor Verlangen zusammen.

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!

Era acolo, chiar în spatele ei, aproape atingând-o, iar Cristina înţelese deodată că de sub buzele pe care nu le putea vedea ieşeau colţi. Lungi, ascuţiţi, ucigători. Obişnuiţi să rupă carnea, să împroaşte sângele, să lase în urmă trupuri mutilate. Neştiutori într-ale milei, experţi în cruzime, de care până şi diavolul se temea.

Hayat bize yalnız bir kez bahşedilmişken, bir daha asla sahip olamayacağımız şeyleri kaybettik...

Fortune's fool! How we humans lie upon beauty like lizards upon a sun-baked rock.

Hello, Goddess."- Roman Arceneaux

His beard was nonexistent, except for a carefully trimmed goatee that met his mustache on both sides of his mouth. The overall effect was decidedly villainous. He needed a black horse and a barbarian horde to lead. That or a crew of cutthroats, a ship with blood-red sails, and some knucklehead heroine to lust after. “Look, I’ve had a bad day. How about you just walk away from my Jeep?” The volhv smiled wider, flashing even white teeth. If he started stroking his beard, I’d have to kill him on principle.“He raised his hand to his goatee. That does it. “Yeah. And what’s with the beard and the horse mane? You look like Rent-a-Villain.

»Ich glaube nicht, dass er dich verachtet«, widersprach Furia, die in Liebesdingen auf die Erfahrungen zahlloser Romanheldinnen zurückgreifen konnte. Was sich in etwa so anfühlte, als läse man exotische Kochbücher, ohne je etwas anderes als Dinkelbrot zu essen.

Gregori jolted back. "Snap! You couldn't control one measly mortal?" Roman clenched his fists. "No." Gregori slapped a hand against his brow. "Snap!" "Why the hell are you snapping? Are you a turtle?" It was times like this that firing Gregori seemed to be the wise choice.

Het is geen roman, 't is een aanklacht!

I am supposed to be an utter fool and the more I read the more of a fool they think me.

Ich gehe duschen. Komm gerne mit, dann kann ich dir zeigen, wie viel hübscher das Badezimmer im Gegensatz zur Küche ist." Ich boxte gegen seinen Oberarm. "Nein, danke." Spencer erhob sich. Seine Lippen waren immer noch ein bisschen feucht vom Wasser und sein Grinsen so unverschämt, dass es hätte verboten werden sollen. "Irgendwann wirst du mich freiwillig in dieses Badezimmer begleiten, Süße. Du weißt es, ich weiß es, und die Welt ist sich darüber auch schon seit Anbeginn der Zeit im Klaren.

If I were in his(Prophet Muhammad) presence, I would wash his feet.

I do not believe in the creed professed by the Jewish church, by the Roman church, by the Greek church, by the Turkish church, by the Protestant church, nor by any church that I know of. My own mind is my own church. All national institutions of churches, whether Jewish, Christian, or Turkish, appear to me no other than human inventions set up to terrify and enslave mankind, and monopolize power and profit.

If you love my work, you are a good critic. If you do not love my work, you are a 'not good' critic.

If there is one fable, which would seem entitled to escape the analysis, which we have undertaken of religious poems and sacred legends, by the laws of physical and astronomical science, it is doubtless that of Christ, or the legend, which under that name is really dedicated to the worship of the Sun. The hatred, which the sectarians of that religion,—jealous to make their form of worship dominant over all others,—have shown against those, who worshipped Nature, the Sun, the Moon and the Stars, against the Roman Deities, whose temples and altars they have upset,—would suscitate the idea, that their worship did not form a part of that otherwise universal religion.