Peruvians In Spanish Quotes & Sayings

I could run nearly naked on a hot, windy beach and plunge without care into a running diamond sea; roll on the sand and fling my arms wide to the sun and still be what I was ... young. — Anne Rivers Siddons

I just want my music to be put out there, not shoved in people's faces. I want to keep it relaxed. — Iwan Rheon

That solar hue, that variegation of gleam and shade, made Don Fabrizio's heart ache as he stood black and stiff in a doorway: this eminently patrician room reminded him of country things; the chromatic scale was the same as that of the vast wheat fields around Donnafugata, rapt, begging pity from the tyrannous sun; in this room, too, as on his estates in mid-August, the harvest had been gathered long before, stacked elsewhere, leaving, as here, a sole reminder in the color of the stubble burned and useless now. The notes of the waltz in the warm air seemed to him but a stylization of the incessant winds harping their own sorrows on the parched surfaces, today, yesterday, tomorrow, forever and forever. The crowd of dancers, among whom he could count so many near to him in blood if not in heart, began to seem unreal, made up of that material from which are woven lapsed memories, more elusive even than the stuff of disturbing dreams. — Giuseppe Tomasi Di Lampedusa

I don't focus on the results. Put my head down, put my hoodie up, and do the work. — Michael Skolnik

pleasure and more a business. Julian grew visibly excited as he recounted how he sold all his material possessions and headed for India, a land whose — Robin S. Sharma

Today the art of gardening is practised much more often than any other, in ignorant, impulsive ways, by people who never stop to think that it is an art at all. — Mariana Griswold Van Rensselaer

That's one of the central challenges we face - how to stay true to events and compress the fundamentals. — Paul Greengrass

You keep staying on our block we gonna have to show you what the burner do." "Thank you, it's great meeting you," says Phoenix. "What's a burner?" I whisper. "A gun," Phoenix whispers back. The man loops and rejoins the others. The streets are deserted. It's just the dealers and us. But then, miraculously, a taxi passes. I flag it. The superheroes all have bulletproof vests. I have nothing. I have a cardigan. — Jon Ronson