Segelman Ver Quotes

You are not insignificant, child. You are an exceptionally crafted being whose ver presence in this universe is by design. ~ J.M. Ivie

For years I study. I look long at olive trees, all gray and silver, and watch the sunlight. Ah, yes, I am ver' lazy, but I see after I look long that it is perspective that give it this quality. Perspective, and absolute faith to the subject. ~ Ugo Mochi

[O]ver the years I travelled to another universe. However alert we are, however much we think we know what will happen, antiquity remains an unknown, unanticipated galaxy. It is alien, and old people are a separate form of life. They have green skin, with two heads that sprout antennae. They can be pleasant, they can be annoying
in the supermarket, these old ladies won't get out of my way
but most important they are permanently other. When we turn eighty, we understand that we are extraterrestrial. If we forget for a moment that we are old, we are reminded when we try to stand up, or when we encounter someone young, who appears to observe green skin, extra heads, and protuberances. ~ Donald Hall

One night, after they had made love, Pelletier got up naked and went looking among his books for a novel by Archimboldi. After hesitating for a moment he decided on The leather mask, thinking that with some luck Vanessa might read it as a horror novel, might be attracted by the sinister side of the book. She was surprised at first by the gift, then touched, since she was used to her clients giving her clothes or shoes or lingerie. Really, she was very happy with it, especially when Pelletier explained who Archimboldi was and the role the German writer played in his life.
"It's as if you were giving me a part of you", said Vanessa.
The remark left Pelletier a bit confused, since in a way it was perfectly true, Archimboldi was by now a part of him, the author belonged to him insofar as Pelletier had, a long with few others, instituted a new reading of the German, a reading that would endure, a reading as ambitious as Archimboldi's writing, and this reading would keep pace with Archimboldi's writing for a long time, until the reading was exhausted or until Archimboldi's writing - the capacity of Archimboldian oeuvre to spark emotions and revelations - was exhausted (but he didn't believe that would happen), though in another way it wasn't true, because sometimes, especially since he and Espinoza had given up their trips to London and stopped seeing Liz Norton, Archimboldi's work, his novels and stories, that is, seemed completely foreign, a shapeless and mysterious ver ~ Roberto Bolano

Ver reisa ku'chae. Kem surah, shei'tani. (Your soul calls out. Mine answers, beloved.) ~ C.L. Wilson

And many other places to the like purpose. And therefore men can be justified by their words, no otherwise than as evidences or manifestations of what is in the heart. And it is thus that Christ speaks of the words in this very place, as is evident by the context, ver. 34, 35. "Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. A good man out of the good treasure of the heart," &c. The words, ~ Jonathan Edwards

Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint,
And sweet thyme true,
Primrose, first born child of Ver,
Merry Spring-time's harbinger. ~ Francis Beaumont

On 'The Guiding Light' I enjoyed working with Jamie Goodwin and Ellen Parker, who played my sister. I loved working with Jerry Ver Dorn and Jay Hammer. I mean, there's some great fun people that I've really enjoyed. ~ Kassie DePaiva

[O]ver sufficiently long a term, as everyone knows, there is nothing that does not have as its consequence death. ~ Mohsin Hamid

R'bin," he said, giving up and gazing down at her. "R'bin, d'you know wadda kairos mo…" He hiccoughed. "Mo…moment is?"

"A kairos moment?" she repeated, hoping against hope it was not something sexual, something that she would not be able to forget afterwards, especially as the kebab shop owner was listening in and smirking behind them. "No, I don't. Shall we go back to the office?"

"You don't know whadditis?" he asked, peering at her.

"No."

" 'SGreek," he told her. "Kairos. Kairos moment. An' it means," and from somewhere in his soused brain he dredged up words of surprising clarity, "the telling moment. The special moment. The supreme moment."

Oh please, thought Robin, please don't tell me we're having one.

"An' d'you know what ours was, R'bin, mine an' Charlotte's?" he said, staring into the middle distance, his unlit cigarette hanging from his hand. "It was when she walk'd into the ward - I was in hosp'tal f'long time an' I hadn' seen her f'two years - no warning - an' I saw her in the door an' ev'ryone turned an' saw her too, an' she walked down the ward an' she never said a word an," he paused to draw breath, and hiccoughed again, "an' she kissed me aft' two years, an' we were back together. Nobody talkin'. Fuckin' beautiful. Mos' beaut'ful woman I've 'ver seen. Bes' moment of the whole fuckin' - 'fmy whole fuckin' life, prob'bly. I'm sorry, R'bin," he added, "f'r sayin' 'fuckin'.' Sorry 'bout that."
~ Robert Galbraith

The truth thy speech doth show, within my heart reproves the swelling pride.
[It., Lo tuo ver dir m'incuora
Buona umilta e gran tumor m'appiani.] ~ Dante Alighieri

The prophet [ Isaiah ] ... points out what will be the cause of this change; for he says that hatred, quarrel, and fighting will come to an end, because men will have a true knowledge of God. "They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain: for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters which cover the sea" (Isa. xi. ver. 9) Note it. ~ Maimonides

You have something to say to me, Cassidy, say it. Or shut the fuck up."
"All right," Jules said. "I will." He took a deep breath. Exhaled. "Okay, see, I, well, I love you. Very, very much, and . . ." Where to go from here . . .?
Except, his plain-spoken words earned him not just a glance but Max's sudden full and complete attention. Which was a little alarming.
But it was the genuine concern in Max's eyes that truly caught Jules off-guard.
Max actually thought . . . Jules laughed his surprise. "Oh! No, not like that. I meant it, you know, in a totally platonic, non-gay way."
Jules saw comprehension and relief on Max's face. The man was tired if he was letting such basic emotions show.
"Sorry." Max even smiled. "I just . . ." He let out a burst of air. "I mean, talk about making things even more complicated . . ."
It was amazing. Max hadn't recoiled in horror at the idea. His concern had been for Jules, about potentially hurting his tender feelings. And even now, he wasn't trying to turn it all into a bad joke.
And he claimed they weren't friends.
Jules felt his throat tighten. "You can't know," he told his friend quietly, "how much I appreciate your acceptance and respect."
"My father was born in India," Max told him, "in 1930. His mother was white - American. His father was not just Indian, but lower caste. The intolerance he experienced both there and later, even in America, made him a . . . very bitter, very hard, very, ver ~ Suzanne Brockmann