Dans La Rue Quotes

It's our loot!" he yelled, standing on his tiptoes so he could get in Clarisse's face. "If you don't like it, you can kiss my quiver! ~ Rick Riordan

Il pleure dans mon coeur
Comme il pleut sur la ville.
Tears are shed in my heart like the rain on the town. ~ Paul Verlaine

On prend l'essence de la vie dans la ville." "One captures the essence of life in the city," the French said. To be in Paris was to have the world at one's feet - "le monde à ses pieds. ~ David McCullough

Il n'y a pas d'histoires. Il n'y a jamais eu d'histoires. Il n'y a que des
situations, sans queue ni tête; sans commencement, sans milieu, et sans fin; sans endroit et sans envers; on peut les regarder dans tous les sens; la droite devient la gauche; sans limites de passé ou d'avenir, elles sont le présent.

(There are no stories. There have never been stories. There are only situations,
having neither head nor tail; without beginning, middle or end; no recto no
verso; they can be looked at from all angles; right becomes left; without limitations in the past or future, they are the present) ~ Jean Epstein

I started to walk away, but she [Clarisse] called out, "Percy?"
"Yeah?"
"When you, uh, had that vision about your friends ... "
"You were one of them," I promised, "Just don't tell anybody, okay? Or I'de have to kill you."
A faint smile flickered across her face "See you later."
"See you ~ Rick Riordan

Un homme avec Dieu est toujours dans la majorite . One man with God is always a majority. ~ John Knox

("We will call Chase, Jeans Are Too Thight, and Fulton shall be Short One Chewing Tobacco," Hassan whispered to Colin.)

"Je m'appelle Pierre," Colin blurted out after the boys had introduced themselves. "Quand je vais dans le metro, je fais aussi de la musique de prouts. ~ John Green

- Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position? - c'est le pigeon, Joseph. Patrice, home on furlough, lapped warm milk with me in the bar MacMahon. Son of the wild goose, Kevin Egan of Paris. My father's a bird, he lapped the sweet lait chaud with pink young tongue, plump bunny's face. Lap, lapin. He hopes to win in the gros lots. About the nature of women he read in Michelet. But he must send me La Vie de Jesus by M. Leo Taxil. Lent it to his friend. - C'est tordant, vous savez. Moi, je suis socialiste. Je ne crois pas en l'existence de Dieu. Faut pas le dire a mon p-re. - Il croit? - Mon pere, oui. ~ James Joyce

The other evening, in that cafe-cabaret in the Rue de la Fontaine, where I had run aground with Tramsel and Jocard, who had taken me there to see that supposedly-fashionable singer... how could they fail to see that she was nothing but a corpse?

Yes, beneath the sumptuous and heavy ballgown, which swaddled her and held her upright like a sentry-box of pink velvet trimmed and embroidered with gold - a coffin befitting the queen of Spain - there was a corpse! But the others, amused by her wan voice and her emaciated frame, found her quaint - more than that, quite 'droll'...

Droll! that drab, soft and inconsistent epithet that everyone uses nowadays! The woman had, to be sure, a tiny carven head, and a kind of macabre prettiness within the furry heap of her opera-cloak. They studied her minutely, interested by the romance of her story: a petite bourgeoise thrown into the high life following the fad which had caught her up - and neither of them, nor anyone else besides in the whole of that room, had perceived what was immediately evident to my eyes. Placed flat on the white satin of her dress, the two hands of that singer were the two hands of a skeleton: two sets of knuckle-bones gloved in white suede. They might have been drawn by Albrecht
Durer: the ten fingers of an evil dead woman, fitted at the ends of the two overlong and excessively thin arms of a mannequin...

And while that room convulsed with laughter and thrilled with pleasure, g ~ Jean Lorrain

In Paris, I found myself surrounded by Germans; they were all over the place. They played music, and people would go and listen to them! All along rue de Rivoli, as far as you could see from place de la Concorde, there were enormous swastika banners five or six floors high. I just thought, This is impossible.
Imagine that someone comes into your home - someone you don't like - he settles down, gives orders: "Here we are, we're at home now; you must obey." To me that was unbearable. ~ Pearl Witherington Cornioley

By shading off, as I have done, the portion of the area of the diagram according to the individual age, every one may see how much of life is consumed, and what is left. ~ Warren De La Rue

We're at a dinner party in an apartment on Rue Paul Valéry between Avenue Foch and Avenue Victor Hugo and it's all rather subdued since a small percentage of the invited guests were blown up in the Ritz yesterday. For comfort people went shopping, which is understandable even if they bought things a little too enthusiastically. Tonight it's just wildflowers and white lilies, just W's Paris bureau chief, Donna Karan, Aerin Lauder, Ines de la Fressange and Christian Louboutin, who thinks I snubbed him and maybe I did but maybe I'm past the point of caring. Just Annette Bening and Michael Stipe in a tomato-red wig. Just Tammy on heroin, serene and glassy-eyed, her lips swollen from collagen injections, beeswax balm spread over her mouth, gliding through the party, stopping to listen to Kate Winslet, to Jean Reno, to Polly Walker, to Jacques Grange. Just the smell of shit, floating, its fumes spreading everywhere. Just another conversation with a chic sadist obsessed with origami. Just another armless man waving a stump and whispering excitedly, "Natasha's coming!" Just people tan and back from the Ariel Sands Beach Club in Bermuda, some of them looking reskinned. Just me, making connections based on fear, experiencing vertigo, drinking a Woo-Woo. ~ Bret Easton Ellis

Nature's laws must be obeyed, and the period of decline begins, and goes on with accelerated rapidity. ~ Warren De La Rue

Madame V begins the lesson by reading aloud the first stanza of a famous French poem: Il pleure dans mon coeur Comme il pleut sur la ville; Quelle est cette langueur Qui penetre mon coeur? Then she looks up and without any warning she calls on me to translate it. I swallow hard, and try: "It's raining in my heart like it's raining in the city. What is this sadness that pierces my heart?" Saying these words out loud, right in front of the whole class, makes me feel like I'm not wearing any clothes. ~ Sonya Sones

A song is not a tool for changing a human heart in the way that a wrench is a tool for changing a bolt, but it was the tool I had, and I was the tool the OSP had.
The cansos in "Songs from Underneath" were not really as subtle as a wrench. Their primary trope was the ancient trick of making the viewpoint character a victim of oppression, because people identify passionately with a strong viewpoint character, and there is intense pleasure in identifying with the narrator of a sad story or song. In "Black Beauty" that trick had made people begin to think that beating horses was bad; it was the trope that make privileged white children burn with outrage at "Native Son" and prudes weep over prostitutes in "Elle frequentait la rue Pigalle" and "My Name is Not Bitch." They also received, at no extra cost, the delicious smug superiority of sympathizing with an underdog, unlike their less-enlightened neighbors.
Their primary ~ John Barnes

A spring sun was shining on the rue St. Honore, as I ran down the church steps. On one corner stood a barrow full of yellow jonquils, pale violets from the Riviera, dark Russian violets, and white Roman hyacinths in a golden cloud of mimosa. The street was full of Sunday pleasure-seekers. I swung my cane and laughed with the rest. Someone overtook and passed me. He never turned, but there was the same deadly malignity in his white profile that there had been in his eyes. I watched him as long as I could see him. His lithe back expressed the same menace; every step that carried him away from me seemed to bear him on some errand connected with my destruction.

I was creeping along, my feet almost refusing to move. There began to dawn in me a sense of responsibility for something long forgotten. It began to seem as if I deserved that which he threatened: it reached a long way back - a long, long way back. It had lain dormant all these. years: it was there though, and presently it would rise and confront me. But I would try to escape; and I stumbled as best I could into the rue de Rivioli, across the Place de la Concorde and on to the Quai. I looked with sick eyes upon the sun, shining through the white foam of the fountain, pouring over the backs of the dusky bronze river-gods, on the far-away Arc, a structure of amethyst mist, on the countless vistas of grey stems and bare branches faintly green. Then I saw him again coming down one of the chestnut alleys of the Cours ~ Robert W. Chambers

For a deeper interest in the Moon than I ever felt before. ~ Warren De La Rue

The death agony of the barricade was about to begin.
For, since the preceding evening, the two rows of houses in the Rue de la Chanvrerie had become two walls; ferocious walls, doors closed, windows closed, shutters closed.
A house is an escarpment, a door is a refusal, a facade is a wall. This wall hears, sees and will not. It might open and save you. No. This wall is a judge. It gazes at you and condemns you. What dismal things are closed houses. ~ Victor Hugo

President Mandela was never scared to admit his own mistakes and then almost jump at the opportunity of apologising and then to move on. ~ Zelda La Grange

We realized that Elite has the potential to really add value to a company like La Perla, due to its relationship to the fashion business, links to music, to entertainment, all of this tends to point more and more to the luxury consumer. The fashion world is one where Italy has clear excellence. I see the potential with it very clearly. ~ Silvio Scaglia

I'm ashamed to admit this, but I didn't read a novel all the way through until after high school. Blasphemy, I know. I'm an author now. Books and words are my world. ~ Matt De La Pena

Meanwhile, it's who you are inside that counts anyway. If you have God-confidence, you're going to look, act, and feel good about yourself because that's just how God made you. Concentrate on God and who He wants you to be. ~ Nancy Rue

Not all those who know their minds know their hearts as well. ~ Francois De La Rochefoucauld

Love yourself first. ~ La La Anthony

The argument of the strongest is always the best. ~ Jean De La Fontaine

A fragrant Perfume is Love's Living Breath Breathed upon my Soul, the Soul of the beloved, infusing into me the Life Divine. ~ Jean-Marie De La Trinite

Christmas was a miserable time for a Jewish child in those days, and I still recall the feeling ... Decades later, I still feel left out at Christmas, but I sing the carols anyway. You might recognize me if you ever heard me. I'm the one who sings, 'La-la, the la-la is born. ~ Faye Moskowitz

A lot of power-pop comes out of LA, a lot of speed metal comes out of New York. ~ Layne Staley

I did wonder if I'd have cause to rue my action. Now I believe it can safely be filed under Necessary Regrets. ~ Anthony Ryan

It was the truth, and like any truth, it was powerful. ~ Melissa De La Cruz

What is called generosity is usually only the vanity of giving; we enjoy the vanity more than the thing given. ~ Francois De La Rochefoucauld

Silence is the best tactic for he who distrusts himself. ~ Francois De La Rochefoucauld