Cheech And Chong Up In Smoke Spanish Quotes

And, in keeping with the original Milesian Tales which had happy endings, I would conclude the episode of the lovely Atalanta Chan, who, having sold her virginity for one million dollars, ended up still a virgin.
This fact did not escape the astute mind of the financial wizard, Butes, who pointed out to the lovely girl that since her flower had already been fully paid for & since it was he who had arranged the deal, he should be the one to enjoy any benefit that remained.[MMT] ~ Nicholas Chong

The two lovers then hugged & embraced each other as Zeus said that he had to leave soon: he did not want the Gods & Goddesses of Olympus to get too worked up about his disappearance. Then Aphrodite kissed her beloved on the lips & pressed his mouth open with her tongue. And their tongues made contact & liked the feel of each other. And so they kissed with their tongues lashing excitedly in each other`s mouth, with love & passion. And that was the first time Gods & Goddesses kissed that way. ~ Nicholas Chong

And thus, lost in her own thoughts,she let Bacchus do whatever he wished & she only sat up when he accidentally pressed too hard on her tender flesh."Oh! Sorry! I was only admiring the beauty of Nature!" Bacchus said when he noticed her grinning at him. "Let me wash myself first,Sir,if you wish to taste my Nectar,"she suggested.[MMT] ~ Nicholas Chong

Why did Park Chung-Hee launch his political career in 1961 by lambasting Korean history? Why did he follow up two years later by saying, "Our five thousand years of history was a continuation of degeneration, crudity, and stagnation" and "We should set ablaze all our history that was more like a storehouse of evil"? ~ Chong-Sik Lee

My marriage was breaking up, and my marriage with Chong was breaking up. I had to come back and kind of start on my own again. ~ Cheech Marin

But Zeus did not tell Aphrodite that age was catching up on him. And that Gods, just as Mortal men, suffered from Erectile Dysfunction. And that the daily harvesting of his sperm sacs by Hera & Themis in order to provide three amphoras full of seed had not helped.
And that thus, he, just as all those who suffered from Erectile Dysfunction, actually preferred catching oysters & eating them rather than deflowering the owners of the oysters. And thus, the Big Crunch that had been planned, now risked becoming the Big Bathos, the Big Let Down. ~ Nicholas Chong

A legion of horribles, hundreds in number, half naked or clad in costumes attic or biblical or wardrobed out of a fevered dream with the skins of animals and silk finery and pieces of uniform still tracked with the blood of prior owners, coats of slain dragoons, frogged and braided cavalry jackets, one in a stovepipe hat and one with an umbrella and one in white stockings and a bloodstained wedding veil and some in headgear or cranefeathers or rawhide helmets that bore the horns of bull or buffalo and one in a pigeontailed coat worn backwards and otherwise naked and one in the armor of a Spanish conquistador, the breastplate and pauldrons deeply dented with old blows of mace or sabre done in another country by men whose very bones were dust and many with their braids spliced up with the hair of other beasts until they trailed upon the ground and their horses' ears and tails worked with bits of brightly colored cloth and one whose horse's whole head was painted crimson red and all the horsemen's faces gaudy and grotesque with daubings like a company of mounted clowns, death hilarious, all howling in a barbarous tongue and riding down upon them like a horde from a hell more horrible yet than the brimstone land of Christian reckoning, screeching and yammering and clothed in smoke like those vaporous beings in regions beyond right knowing where the eye wanders and the lip jerks and drools. ~ Cormac McCarthy

I keep a mountain anchored off eastward a little way, which I ascend in my dreams both awake and asleep. Its broad base spreads over a village or two, which does not know it; neither does it know them, nor do I when I ascend it. I can see its general outline as plainly now in my mind as that of Wachusett. I do not invent in the least, but state exactly what I see. I find that I go up it when I am light-footed and earnest. It ever smokes like an altar with its sacrifice. I am not aware that a single villager frequents it or knows of it. I keep this mountain to ride instead of a horse. ~ Henry David Thoreau

The beasts are very wise,
Their mouths are clean of lies,
They talk one to the other,
Bullock to bullock brothers
Resting after their labors,
Each in stall with his neighbors,
But man with goad and whip,
Breaks up their fellowship,
Shouts in their silky ears
Filling their soul with fears.
When he has plowed the land,
He says: "they understand."
But the beasts in stall together,
Freed from the yoke and tether,
Say as the torn flank smoke:
"Nay, 'twas the whip that spoke." ~ Rudyard Kipling

When it comes to celebrities and tabloids, to me that is a bummer. That's a little disappointing. And it is amazing how things really get made. I always used to think that where there is smoke there is fire, and now I see stories pop up out of nowhere with no basis in reality. ~ Jon Favreau

The hand that once wielded both sword and axe now aches after an evening of the quill. When I wipe the tip of one clean, I often wonder how many buckets of ink I have used in a lifetime. How many words have I set down on paper or vellum, thinking to trap the truth thereby? And of those words, how many have I myself consigned to the flames as worthless and wrong? I do as I have done so many times. I write, I sand the wet ink, I consider my own words. Then I burn them. Perhaps when I do so, the truth goes up the chimney as smoke. Is it destroyed, or set free in the world? I do not know. I ~ Robin Hobb

Once again, I was conscious of the paradox of the compound: that here, at the heart of the unfolding events, we could catch no more than a glimpse of them. Fires were burning all over Dili; the smell was in our nostrils from the moment we wok up, and occasionally we could see columns of smoke. But the flames themselves, and the faces of the fire starters, were invisible. At the computers in the Unamet press room, we waited in turn to log on to the news websites and learn what was happening to us. ~ Richard Lloyd Parry

Nature Boy

I was just a boy when I sat down
To watch the news on TV
I saw some ordinary slaughter
I saw some routine atrocity
My father said, don't look away
You got to be strong, you got to be bold, now
He said, that in the end it is beauty
That is going to save the world, now

And she moves among the sparrows
And she floats upon the breeze
She moves among the flowers
She moves something deep inside of me

I was walking around the flower show like a leper
Coming down with some kind of nervous hysteria
When I saw you standing there, green eyes, black hair
Up against the pink and purple wisteria
You said, hey, nature boy, are you looking at me
With some unrighteous intention?
My knees went weak,
I couldn't speak, I was having thoughts
That were not in my best interests to mention

And she moves among the flowers
And she floats upon the smoke
She moves among the shadows
She moves me with just one little look

You took me back to your place
And dressed me up in a deep sea diver's suit
You played the patriot, you raised the flag
And I stood at full salute
Later on we smoked a pipe that struck me dumb
And made it impossible to speak
As you closed in, in slow motion,
Quoting Sappho, in the original Greek

She moves among the shadows
She floats upon the breeze
She moves among ~ Nick Cave

That done, I sank into an uneasy sleep wherein I dreamed of an assembly line of pale, bloodless girls walking down an endless dark street and moaning softly for help. Somewhere, toward the edge of my inner vision, a shadowy figure pursued them with long, beckoning arms.
Goddamn booze!
Somewhere in the midst of this ghoulish girl parade Cairncross materialized and hung a garland of garlic around my neck, glaring at me with his good eye and intoning, 'Go and sin no more.'
Vincenzo appeared at Cairncross' side and together they laughed insanely, then vanished in a puff of sulphurous smoke.
I made several high-minded resolutions, muttered half-heard but sincere-sounding prayers to all the recently deposed saints, thrashed and rolled clean off the bed.
I might just as well have stayed up. ~ Jeff Rice

Nothing. I have no way of getting in touch with Machiavelli."
Virginia produced her wooden flute and spun it in her fingers. "I don't know why you're so worried, Doctor. I can easily lull them to sleep with-"
Before she could finish her sentence a green-skinned, green-haired, fish-tailed woman had leapt straight up out of the sea, snatched the flute from Virginia's fingers and splashed back into the water on the opposite side of the boat, leaving her empty-handed.
Virginia Dare's scream was hideous. Flinging off her smoke-stained jacket and pulling off her shoes,she launched herself over the side of the boat and disappeared beneath the waves without a trace. ~ Michael Scott

A sense of the Finn's presence surrounded him, smell of Cuban cigarettes, smoke locked in musty tweed, old machines given up to the mineral rituals of rust. ~ William Gibson

The Mologai. The sun shines less in the Mologai, but heat gathers there in the shade and smoke. Steep cramped dwellings, shops oldish. Oddly, smoke pervading the whole area. The streets cling to contours. You clamber up steps from one narrow alleyway to the next, among the stalls. It's an antique hunter's paradise - or rather purgatory, because the promise of heaven takes time to realize. ~ Jonathan Gash

For Padilla the shared act of smoking was basically a staging of loneliness: the tough guys, the talkers, the quick to forget and the long to remember, lost themselves for an instant, the length of time it took the cigarette to burn, an instant in which time was frozen and yet all times in Spanish history were concentrated, all the cruelty and the broken dreams, and in that "night of the soul" the smokers recognized each other, unsurprised, and embraced. The spirals of smoke were the embrace. ~ Roberto Bolano

Besides,I like working outdoors. Pa and the boys have always let me help with the ranch chores."
This was received with a raised eyebrow. "Indeed. How kind of them. Willow,the men in your family treat you more like a slave than the young lady you are. It's a sin, I tell you, a deplorable sin!"
Willow shrugged. "Hell...er, ah, heck, I'd rather round up cows than be stuck in the house all day. Besides, there ain't much house work with Pa and the boys gone."
"Humph! Too bad your pa didn't teach you more about the joys of being a lady."
The girl bristled. "I am a lady! I may not wear those fancy, highfalutin clothes, or walk around looking helpless, but that ain't what really makes a lady, you know."
"And what, pray tell, in your opinion, makes a lady, Willow?"
"A woman is a lady as long as she keeps her distance from horny critters of the opposite sex." She grinned proudly and declared, "I do.That makes me a lady!"
"Horny crit-" Shocked, Mrs. Brigham stared a moment, then nodded firmly. "My dear, someone needs to take you in hand, and I know my duty when I see it. Now listen to me, young lady-mind you, I use the term lightly. There's much more to being a lady than avoiding the opposite sex. For instance, ladies don't wear men's pants. Ladies don't herd cattle. And ladies don't smoke, curse, or sneak whiskey. I have it on good authority that you've done all those things and more. And, furthermore, ladies don't know the meaning of...horny!"
~ Charlotte McPherren

The majority of people imagine a chess master as being a townsman who passes his life in an atmosphere of smoke and play in cafes and clubs: a neurasthenic individual, whose nerves and brains are continually working at tension: a one-sided person who has given up his whole soul to chess. ~ Richard Reti

The atmosphere's warm and fervid. The scent of it wafts up in dense waves... sweat laced with perfume like smoke from an oven of burning human lusts. ~ Juhani Aho

It's the Longing that ultimately undoes you. When it finds you, it gnaws at your bones and tugs at your chest. It fills you up inside like rot and makes you dream dreams and it drowns you. The Longing keeps you in bed, clutching at your sheets while the world goes on outside. It smells like old leaves and cigarette smoke, mixed with the scent of far-off places you will hear of, but never see. It's the gloss on a lover's lips the moment you realize you will never kiss those lips again. It is the bittersweet, unrequited love of creation and it will break your heart again and again and again. If you know the Longing the way I do, then these words are redundant. We understand each other perfectly, you and I. ~ Matthew Sturges

My wakeup call wasn't some light switch of empowerment. From as early as preschool I feared that if I didn't grow up to be the pretty princess men fawned over, I was a failure. That mentality was my disease. It got me raped. It made me feel dirty and devalued because my cherry wasn't popped on a bed of rose petals. It fueled an adolescence juggling starvation and vomiting until my throat bled out and my stomach acid burned through the plumbing. It made me snort coke, smoke meth, and routinely gulp down narcotic petri dishes in hopes of obtaining hallucinogenic intimacy with junkie boyfriends. But most of all, it made me waste my youth chasing, obsessing over, fighting for, worshipping, clinging to, and crying over one after another loser. At some point, I just quit giving a fuck. ~ Maggie Young

If we are at war with Covid 19 (Corona Virus) . In war there must be casualties and collateral damages. Drink, smoke, loot, visit friends, go outside , go to parties, events, funerals, church and clubs at your own risk. Be ignorant, don't wash your hands and gather in groups at your own risk. You might become the percentage of casualty or just be safe , stay home and practice social distance. We can defeat the virus, but as for how long will it take.It is up to you. ~ De Philosopher DJ Kyos

As much as it pleases God to bless you, there will be moments when everything you try goes up in smoke. There will be moments when the one you counted on most walks away and leaves you groping through blinding tears and wailing questions of why. Plans and goals can be circumvented by the most disappointing of times, leaving you learning the art of patience and the acceptance of a denied request. ~ T.D. Jakes

The light changed slightly. Mari looked up and over at one wall. There was now a narrow, roughly door-shaped hole in it. Standing in the hole was Mage Alain.
Mari stood up, realizing that her mouth was hanging open. That wall was solid. I felt it. There wasn't any opening. She watched as the Mage took two shaky steps into the cell, then paused, some of the strain leaving his face. She blinked, wondering what she had just seen, as the hole in the wall vanished as if it had never been. One moment it was there, the next it was gone. ...
Mari took a long slow breath. 'They use smoke and mirrors and other 'magic' to make commons think they can create temporary holes in walls and things like that. It's all nonsense.' "Mages actually can make real holes in walls."
"No."
Her head hurting with increased intensity, Mari glowered at the Mage. "You didn't make a hole in the wall?"
"I made the illusion of a hole in the illusion of the wall."
Mari looked at Mage Alain for what felt like a long time, trying to detect any sign of mockery or lying. But he seemed perfectly sincere. And unless she had completely lost her mind, he had just walked through that solid wall. ...
"We can get out the same way that you got in?" Mari asked. "Through imaginary holes in the imaginary wall?" She wondered how her guild would feel about seeing that in her report. Actually, she didn't have to wonder, but she wasn't about to turn down a chance at escape.
The Mage took ~ Jack Campbell

I smoke two cartons of unfiltered cigs and down a bottle of American rye whiskey as a warm up, generally. Then swallow beach sand and general aggregate to get some texture in the voice, followed by a stick of butter to smooth it all out. This works for me, but may not be for everyone. ~ Roger Craig Smith

Your blood reveal your most intimate secrets. Are you dying of leukimia or AIDS? Did you smoke cigarette or drink a glass of wine in the last few hours? Are you prozac because you're depressed, or Viagra because you can't get it up? ~ Tess Gerritsen

It's good to see people not smoking. You get dressed up, and you smoke, and it gets in your clothes. You go, 'What should I wear tonight?' 'I don't know, honey, how about something menthol?' ~ George Lopez

On Easter Monday there was a great display of fireworks from the Castle of St. Angelo. We hired a room in an opposite house, and made our way, to our places, in good time, through a dense mob of people choking up the square in front, and all the avenues leading to it; and so loading the bridge by which the castle is approached, that it seemed ready to sink into the rapid Tiber below. There are statues on this bridge (execrable works), and, among them, great vessels full of burning tow were placed: glaring strangely on the faces of the crowd, and not less strangely on the stone counterfeits above them. The show began with a tremendous discharge of cannon; and then, for twenty minutes or half an hour, the whole castle was one incessant sheet of fire, and labyrinth of blazing wheels of every colour, size, and speed: while rockets streamed into the sky, not by ones or twos, or scores, but hundreds at a time. The concluding burst - the Girandola - was like the blowing up into the air of the whole massive castle, without smoke or dust. In half an hour afterwards, the immense concourse had dispersed; the moon was looking calmly down upon her wrinkled image in the river; and half - a - dozen men and boys with bits of lighted candle in their hands: moving here and there, in search of anything worth having, that might have been dropped in the press: had the whole scene to themselves. ~ Charles Dickens

I love you the way I love nightmare, secrets coming up like smoke through a grid, the way I love mirrors shattered but still whole, reflecting the foolish image in a hundred lit-up fragments. No one else could take me, pay my way with what your skin knows. ~ Jayne Anne Phillips

Amar loosed a breath. "I understand, you know."
I looked up.
"The forced silence…the voices of this palace."
We stood there, not saying anything. I felt too aware of the space between us. Even with Akaran's secrets spiraling in the shadows of my head, I couldn't ignore the weightless feeling that had gripped me. Standing beside Amar did something to me. Like my center had shifted to make room for him.
"You do not trust me, do you?"
"No," I said. I had no reason to lie. "I told you in the Night Bazaar that trust is won in actions and time. Not words."
"I wish you trusted me."
"I don't place my faith in wishes," I said. "How can I? I can't even--"
I bit back the rest of my words. I can't even see your face. Perhaps Gupta was lying and he really did have a disfiguring scar. Amar moved closer until we were only a hand space apart.
"What?" he coaxed, his voice hovering between a growl and a question.
"I can't even see your face."
A strange chill still curled off of him like smoke and even though the glass garden was teeming with little lights, shades veiled him.
"Is that what you want?" he said. "Would it make you trust me?"
"It would be a start."
"You are impossible to please."
I said nothing. Amar leaned forward, and I felt the silken trails of his hood brush across my neck. My breath constricted. "Is that what you want? An unguarded gaze can spill a thousand secrets."
"I would know them anyway," I s ~ Roshani Chokshi

Seth's official reason for still smoking weed is that he doesn't want to, quote, go native, meaning end up one more suit on the train. (He in fact does wear a suit to work.) He wants them to, quote, live nicely, in a big house where family can come visit (kids, of course, in the back of his mind), but at the same time he doesn't want to get less crazy. So he'll smoke up before he goes for a run, and he's found a dentist in Danbury who still gives gas. ~ David Gates

I turned around to examine the rest of my temporary prison, and saw an enormous golden eye staring at me, less than ten feet away from where I stood.
I did what any sensible witch would do in my circumstance. I screamed like a scared little girl.
The eye blinked. Once, twice, and then shifted as the dragon turned its head toward me, regarding me with both golden eyes. "I could have eaten you, you know."
I nodded numbly and stammered, "Thank you for not doing that." I knew dragons existed in Faerie, though I'd never seen one before. Dragons are reclusive as a rule and tend to guard their privacy ferociously, so only the overly brave or overly stupid seek them out on purpose. The creature was huge, taking up a good portion of the room with its bulk. Black scales covered its body, and leathery wings were folded against its back. Smoke puffed out of its nostrils for a moment, and my stomach leapt in panic.
"I only eat virgins though."
I stared at the dragon in disbelief, feeling the inexplicable urge to defend my past sexual history. My mouth worked as I struggled to find an appropriate response, and I thought I saw a glint of humor in its golden gaze. ~ Robyn Bachar

All around the smell of that necro-smoke, that nether-weed. And up and at the hedonist impulse, rejoice, rejoice, in the disconnect my pretty things, fly monkeys, fly! The hip chick in the back, her legs uncrossed to let in air and let out pretention as the lights are down and it's not necessary, nor should it be even with the lights up, all around faces, turned away and yet minds knowing, knowing there is a presence, a power about the room, the charge is different than it was before this small chick came in. Rejoice, simpatico, rejoice. It's her night. A night of the explosion. Pow - bang-ka-boom and yet it's whispered and yet it's heard through the walls at 3 A.M. by attentive ears and hands clenching in the frustration of being unsolicited by the owner of this spectacle. A woman's sigh of ecstasy, and his tears at being not the cause. ~ Benjamin R. Smith