“Some people spend the whole of their lives sitting waiting for one train, only to find that they never even made it to the station.”
“More. Oh that word. That deceptive word. That eater of lives; that malcontent.”
“All those moments, those memories. Everything that we are, compressed in just two or three kilos of paper — the weight of a human heart.”
“But if you could travel back through Time, and find yourself as you used to be, wouldn't you try, just once at least, to give her some kind of warning? Wouldn't you want to make things right?”
“There's something very comforting about the ritual of jam-making. It speaks of cellars filled with preserves; of neat rows of jars on pantry shelves. It speaks of winter mornings and bowls of chocolat au lait, with thick slices of good fresh bread and last year's peach jam, like a promise of sunshine at the darkest point of the year. It speaks of four stone walls, a roof, and of seasons that turn in the same place, in the same way, year after year, with sweet familiarity. It is the taste of home.”
“Those people who say that words have no power know nothing of the nature of words. Words, well placed, can end a regime; can turn affection to hatred; can start a religion or even a war. Words are the shepherds of lies; they lead the best of us to the slaughter.”
“Sometimes walking away is best. I should know. It's my specialty.”
“-Nem tudod elhallgattatni a kutyát?
A fiú szánakozva nézett rá.
-Nem igazán. - felelte. - Vlad hisz a szólásszabadságban.”
“I have never belonged to a tribe. It gives me a different perspective. Perhaps if I did, I too would feel ill at ease in Les Marauds. But I have always been different. Perhaps that's why I find it easier to cross the narrow boundaries between one tribe and the next. To belong so often means to exclude; to think in terms of us and them - to little words that, juxtaposed, so often lead to conflict.”
“Anos de viagens com a minha mãe ensinaram-se que a comida é o passaporte universal. Quaisquer que sejam as barreiras de lingua, cultura ou geografia, a comida atravessa todas as fronteiras.”
“Azok, akik szerint a szavaknak nincs hatalmuk, nincsenek tisztában a szavak természetével. A jól irányzott szavak véget vethetnek egy uralkodó rendszernek, vallást alapíthatnak vagy háborút indíthatnak. A szavak a hazugságok pásztorai, sorainkból a legjobbakat máglyára küldhetik.”
“Come to me in love, Love. Come to me in love.”
“Io cucino quando sono irrequieta; mi piacciono le ricette semplici, la preparazione degli ingredienti, il sapere che, se seguo le regole, il piatto non deluderà mai. Se solo la gente fosse così. Se solo il cuore fosse così semplice.”
“The past is an obdurate stranger that puts as many marks on us as we attempt to impose on it.”
“my mother have taught me that food is a universal passport. Whatever the constraints of language, culture or geography, food crosses over all boundaries. To offer food is to extend the hand of friendship; to accept is to be accepted into the most closed of communities. I”
“Egyenessége ellenére Roux-ban van valami sértődöttség. Mint egy vadon élő állat, akit meg lehet ugyan szelidíteni, de sosem felejti el a kegyetlenséget, és egyszerre tud szenvedélyesen hűséges és meg nem bocsátó lenni. Gyanítom, hogy Reynaud-t illetően sosem lesz más a véleménye, ami meg a falut illeti, csak megvetést érez Lansquenet szelíd kis nyulacskái iránt, akik oly csendesen éldegélnek a Tannes partján, sosem mernek a legközelebbi hegynél messzebbre tekinteni, ha meglegyinti őket a legcsekélyebb változás szellője, vagy ha idegen érkezik, összerázkódnak...”
“I’ve always recognized that look – that look of sanctified contempt adopted by the righteous.”
“But I have always been different. Perhaps that’s why I find it easier to cross the narrow boundaries between one tribe and the next. To belong so often means to exclude; to think in terms of us and them – two little words that, juxtaposed, so often lead to conflict.”
“To belong so often means to exclude; to think in terms of us and them - two little words that, juxtaposed, so often lead to conflict." - Monsieur Le Curé.”
“we have the uncanny knack of focusing on difference; as if excluding others could make our sense of identity stronger. And yet, in all my travels, I have found that people are mostly the same everywhere.”
“Imagine something. Something that fits in the dark. Say the dark is the sky at night. Imagine something in it.”
“A star?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t. I can’t see it.”
“Okay. Don’t try to see it. Try to be it. Would you like to know what it’s like to be one? Be a star?”
“A movie star?”
“No, a star star. In the sky. Keep your eyes closed, think about what it feels like to be one.” He moved over to her and kissed her shoulder. “Imagine yourself in that dark, all alone in the sky at night. Nobody is around you. You are by yourself, just shining there. You know how a star is supposed to twinkle? We say twinkle because that is how it looks, but when a star feels itself, it’s not a twinkle, it’s more like a throb. Star throbs. Over and over and over. Like this. Stars just throb and throb and throb and sometimes, when they can’t throb anymore, when they can’t hold it anymore, they fall out of the sky.”
“Very goodlooking people are as a rule more forgetful than the median. Their mothers start it and the world at large continues it, handing them things, picking things up for them, smoothing their vicinity out for them in every way. I on the other hand remember everything.”
“Even worse is the discovery that one has been living out certain greeting-card sentiments, with ribbons of middle-class virtue tied in a bow around one's heart.”
“There are a lot of idiots in this country, and they deserve representation as much as the next man.”
“But I did it because you can't constantly be afraid of what might happen. If you do, you lose control of what is happening, and all the joy and pain it holds for you”
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