Tai Quotes (displaying: 1 - 30 of 457 quotes )
Ihmisen tekem sateliitti ei toki ollut kuu tai thti eik mikn muukaan taivaankappale, joka kulkee kiertoradallaan niin kauan, ett se tuntuu meist maalliseen aikaan sidotuista kuolevaisista ikuisuudelta. Se onnistui silti pysymn taivaalla jonkin aikaa ja liikkui taivaankappaleiden lheisyydess ikn kuin se olisi koemieless saanut luvan tulla niiden ylevn seuraan
The skillful tactician may be likened to the shuai-jan. Now the shuai-jan is a snake that is found in the Ch'ang mountains. Strike at its head, and you will be attacked by its tail; strike at its tail, and you will be attacked by its head; strike at its middle, and you will be attacked by head and tail both.
It is the same in life; the heart changes, and that is our worst misfortune; but we learn of it only from reading or by imagination; for in reality its alteration, like that of certain natural phenomena, is so gradual that, even if we are able to distinguish, successively, each of its different states, we are still spared the actual sensation of change. Lygiai taip gyvenime keiiasi ir ms irdis, ir tai skaudiausia; taiau patiriame t skausm tik skaitydami knygas, vaizduotje; tikrovje jos keitimasis, kaip ir kai kuri gamtos reikini vyksmas yra toks ltas, kad nors ir galime konstatuoti kiekvien atskir bsen, paties keitimosi pajusti nepajgiame.
Petruchio: Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry. Katherine: If I be waspish, best beware my sting. Petruchio: My remedy is then, to pluck it out. Katherine: Ay, if the fool could find where it lies. Petruchio: Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail. Katherine: In his tongue. Petruchio: Whose tongue? Katherine: Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell. Petruchio: What, with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again, Good Kate; I am a gentleman.
Prisimeni kosmin dsn? Toks tok traukia. Tiesiog bk koks esi: ramus, viesus ir giedras. Kai leidiame suvisti visai savo esybei, kai kiekvien minut klausiame savs, ar i tikro norime taip elgtis ir darome tai tik atsak sau "Taip", tuomet savaime atstumiame nuo savs tuos, kurie nieko i ms negali imokti, ir pritraukiame ne tik gebanius mokytis i ms, bet ir tuos, i kuri patys turime k perimti.
When I grew up, in Taiwan, the Korean War was seen as a good war, where America protected Asia. It was sort of an extension of World War II. And it was, of course, the peak of the Cold War. People in Taiwan were generally pro. American. The Korean War made Japan. And then the Vietnam War made Taiwan. There is some truth to that.
Yra didel, bet visikai kasdienika paslaptis. Visi mons su ja susij, kiekvienas j ino, bet tik nedaugelis apie j pagalvoja. Dauguma paprasiausiai su ja taikstosi ir n kiek nesistebi. Toji paslaptis - tai laikas. Jam matuoti yra kalendoriai ir laikrodiai, bet tas nedaug k sako, nes kiekvienas ino, kad kartais viena valanda atrodo kaip aminyb, o kitais kartais ji prabga kaip akimirka - nelygu, k mogus t valand patiria. Laikas yra gyvenimas, o gyvenimo bstas - mogaus irdis.
Ne, n vienas mogus ilgai negalt pakelti tokio liepsningo gyvenimo. <...> Niekas negalt taip ilgai dien nakt deginti visus savo iburius, eikvoti visus savo vulkanus, niekas nestengt taip ilgai dien nakt stovti liepsnose, kasdien daug valand su kaitusia galva mstyti, nuolatos mgaudamasis, nuolatos kurdamas, nuolatos viesus, su budriais jausmais ir nervais nelyginant pilis, u kurios lang kasdien skamba muzika, o naktimis tviska tkstaniai vaki.
There was a man who sat each day looking out through a narrow vertical opening where a single board had been removed from a tall wooden fence. Each day a wild ass of the desert passed outside the fence and across the narrow opening—first the nose, then the head, the forelegs, the long brown back, the hindlegs, and lastly the tail. One day, the man leaped to his feet with the light of discovery in his eyes and he shouted for all who could hear him: “It is obvious! The nose causes the tail!
Through the forest he pursued the she-monster whose tail coiled over the dead leaves like a silver stream; and he came to a meadow where women, with the hindquarters of dragons, stood around a great fire, raised on the tips of their tails. The moon shone red as blood in a pale circle and their scarlet tongues, formed like fishing harpoons, stretched out, curling to the edge of the flame.
A Childish Prank. Man's and woman's bodies lay without souls. Dully gaping, foolishly staring, inert. On the flowers of Eden. God pondered. The problem was so great, it dragged him asleep. Crow laughed. He bit the Worm, God's only son, Into two writhing halves. He stuffed into man the tail half. With the wounded end hanging out. He stuffed the head half headfirst into woman. And it crept in deeper and up. To peer out through her eyes. Calling it's tail-half to join up quickly, quickly. Because O it was painful. Man awoke being dragged across the grass. Woman awoke to see him coming. Neither knew what had happened. God went on sleeping. Crow went on laughing.
Get down! Get down!"The people in front had already done so, swept down by the wave of bullets. The survivors, instead of getting down, tried to go back to the small square, and the panic became a dragon's tail as one compact wave ran against another which was moving in the opposite direction, towards the other dragon's tail in the street across the way, where the machine guns were firing without cease. They were penned in, swirling about in a gigantic whirlwind that little by little was being reduced to its epicenter as the edges were systematically being cut off all around like an onion being peeled by the insatiable and methodical shears of the machine guns.
But if I know not even the tail of this whale, how understand his head? much more, how comprehend this face, when face he has none? Thou shalt see my back parts, my tail, he seems to say, but my face shall not be seen. But I cannot completely make out his back parts; and hint what he will about his face, I say again he has no face.
How come it can’t fly no better than a chicken?’ Milkman asked. Too much tail. All that jewelry weighs it down. Like vanity. Can’t nobody fly with all that [stuff]. Wanna fly, you got to give up the [stuff] that weighs you down.’ The peacock jumped onto the hood of the Buick and once more spread its tail, sending the flashy Buick into oblivion.
I believe . . . that the petal of a flower or a tiny worm on the path says far more, contains far more than all the books in the library. One cannot say very much with mere letters and words. Sometimes I'll be writing a Greek letter, a theta or an omega, and tilt my pen just the slightest bit; suddenly the letter has a tail and becomes a fish; in a second it evokes all the streams and rivers of the world, all that is cool and humid, Homer's sea and the waters on which Saint Peter wandered; or becomes a bird, flaps its tail, shakes out its feathers, puffs itself up, laughs, flies away. You probably don't appreciate letters like that, very much, do you, Narcissus? But I say: with them God wrote the world.