Colleen McCullough Quotes

if you only shine lights on your flaws, all your perfects will dim

There was some justice in his pain

There is a legend about a bird that sings just once in its life, more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves the nest it searches for a thorn tree and does not rest until it has found one. Then, singing among the savage branches, it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine. Dying, it rises above its own agony to out-carol the lark and the nightingale. One superlative song, existence the price. But the whole world stills to listen, and God in His heaven smiles. For the best is only bought at the cost of the great pain. … Or so says the legend.

Птичката с тръна в гърдите следва неумолим закон.Сама не знае какво я кара да забие шипа в сърцето си и да умре, пеейки. Когато острия трън я пронизва,тя не подозира, че я очаква смърт..само пее и пее, докато не и останат сили да издаде нито звук повече. Но ние- когато ние забиваме шипа в гърдите си, знаем. Разбираме. И все пак го правим. Все пак го правим.

For the best is only bought at the cost of great pain.

Great literature was never intended to be either facsimile or echo of real life; it was meant to shut out real life for a while, to free the harried mind from mundane considerations, so that the mind could holiday amid glorious language and vivid word-pictures and inspiring or alluring ideas.

Though they were very dissimilar in character, they also shared many tastes and appetites, and those they didn’t share they tolerated in each other with instinctive respect, as a necessary spice of difference. They knew each other very well indeed. Her natural tendency was to deplore human failings in others and ignore them in herself; his natural tendency was to understand and forgive human failings in others, and be merciless upon them in himself. She felt herself invincibly strong; he knew himself perilously weak.

For the best is only brought at the cost of great pain. Or so says the legend.

Love and hate are cruel, only liking is kind

Lo que Cleopatra no se molestó en decir a César es que le había mostrado el cuchillo a Poteino dos días antes de usarlo. Poteino lloró, gimió y rogó mucho por su vida durante esos dos días. La batalla naval tuvo lugar en los primeros días de diciembre. César dispuso sus naves mar adentro pero a corta distancia de los escollos situados frente al puerto de Eunostos; los diez barcos rodios a su derecha, los diez pónticos a su izquierda, y una brecha de unos setenta metros entre unos y otros para poder maniobrar. Los veinte barcos de transporte transformados en buques de guerra estaban mucho más atrás. César había diseñado la estrategia, pero Eufranor la puso en práctica, y antes de que zarpara la primera galera se cuidaron meticulosamente todos los detalles. Cada barco de reserva sabía exactamente qué nave de la hilera debía reemplazar; cada legado y tribuno sabía con toda precisión cuáles eran sus obligaciones; cada centuria sabía qué corvus utilizar para abordar un barco enemigo, y el propio César visitó cada unidad para pronunciar unas palabras de aliento y ofrecer un breve resumen de sus propósitos. Su larga experiencia le había demostrado que los soldados rasos bien adiestrados y avezados en el combate a menudo podían tomar la iniciativa y convertir una derrota en una victoria si también ellos conocían con exactitud los planes del general, así que siempre informaba a la tropa.

Не че беше светица или нещо повече от другите. Тя просто никога не се оплакваше и бе надарена- или прокълната- със способността да приема нещата. Каквото и да станеше, каквото и да я сполетеше, тя го посрещаше, приемаше и трупаше на склад като гориво за двигателя на своя живот.

that what had awakened him was a huge

What was sleep? A blessing, a respite from life, an echo of death, a demanding nuisance?

От свободно падащите черни къдрави коси и поразително сините очи до изящните ръце и крака отец Ралф беше действително съвършен. Не, изключено беше да не си дава сметка за това. И все пак държанието му й подсказваше, че той е над всички тези неща и че никога не е робувал и няма да робува на външността си. Той без угризение би я използвал, ако трябва, за да постигне целта си, но не като че ли жертва нещо скъпо, а по-скоро с презрение към хората, над които тази външност имаше влияние.

Wine, wine, wine! Nectar of the gods, balm for the sore heart, glue for the shredded spirit! How did I ever exist without it?” He laughed. “I don’t care if I never see another horn of beer or tankard of mead in all the rest of my life! Wine is civilized. No belches, no farts, no distended belly — on beer, a man becomes a walking cistern.