Coltivatore Quotes & Sayings

each individual should do his duty, regardless of consequences.
We know the right thing to do, but we do not know the consequences of doing the right thing. Thus one should act according to knowledge of duty, not conjectures about consequences. One should do one's duty to the utmost and let the, gods sort out the results. And I believed that my duty is to fight That is the ethic of a movement that can save the world. — Greg Johnson

Never underestimate the audacity of the small minded and slightly crapulous.
A rather bleezed young neighbour decided to have a grammar battle with me. It lasted all of two seconds.
I said something slightly amicable, and he responded with, "You sure that's how you use that word?"
I put down my laundry basket and turned to him slowly and deliberately.
"Do you really want to have this discussion with me, son, or do you want to go home and rethink your life?"
He grumbled and vanished. — Michelle Franklin

The point, the essential quality of the act of reading, now and always, is that it tends to no foreseeable end, to no conclusion. Every reading prolongs another, begun in some afternoon thousands of years ago and of which we know nothing; every reading projects its shadow onto the following page, lending it content and context. In this way, the story grows, layer after layer, like the skin of the society whose history this act preserves. — Alberto Manguel

Demented is the man who is always clenching his teeth on that solid, immutable block of stone that is the past. — Valeria Luiselli

I blaze with a deep sullen magic, smell lust like a heron on fire; all words I form into castles then storm them with soldiers of air. What I seek is not there for asking. My armies are fit and well trained. This poet will trust her battalions to fashion her words into blades. At dawn I shall ask them for beauty, for proof that their training went well. At night I shall beg their forgiveness as I cut their throats by the hill. My navies advance through the language, destroyers ablaze in high seas. I soften the island for landings. With words, I enlist a dark army. My poems are my war with the world. I blaze with a deep southern magic. The bombardiers taxi at noon. There is screaming and grief in the mansions and the moon is a heron on fire. — Pat Conroy