Quotes About Rearrangement

Il n'y a pas de désordre, il y a substitution à un ordre attendu ou aimé d'un autre ordre dont on n'a que faire ou dont on a à souffrir.

Our newness lies only in parts rearranged.

What saddened and incensed her was the abdication of power, so craven, the surrender so close to home. And power was what she was in for. Nicola had lived deliciously, but she was promiscuous on principle, as a sign of emancipation, of spiritual freedom, freedom from men. She was, she believed, without appetite, and prided herself on her passionless brilliance in bed. But then the subtle rearrangement, and the abject whisper... and it poisoned everything, somehow.

Writing is a recording that you can cut up and reassemble. Sound is something you can cut up and reassemble. Film, video - you know, the main tools of culture - can all be cut up and reassembled.

If you walk away from a sandcastle, it won't be there tomorrow, because as the wind, waves, seagulls, and small children push the grains of sand around, they're more likely to arrange them into one of the vast number of configurations that don't look like a castle than into the tiny few that do.

Poets write the words you have heard before but in a new sequence.

the reasons just reassemble themselves in different patterns every time I think about it.

From daybreak to sunset she turned her thoughts, like boulders, over. She set them in long lines. She rearranged their order...

aquella operación, los cajones acabaron en una disposición diferente: la correcta. Bosch estaba convencido de que alguien los había sacado todos para registrarlos por debajo y por detrás y luego los había vuelto a colocar en el lugar equivocado. Después

Piece by piece, as at the strokes of a dull godmother's wand, the old world sprang back into position.

Turn the world over on its side and everything loose will land in Los Angeles.

Bees are forgiving animals, and will tolerate a good deal of rearrangement in their lives for whatever new fad sweeps the beekeeping industry—plastic foundation and frames, double queen management, tar-paper wraps for winter—but the best beekeepers I know are those who let the bees themselves, not equipment manufacturers, be their teachers.

Piety is the privatization of the world as the story of one's self and one's salvation, and without the, yes, sometimes offensive conviction that one is the object of God's special, and indeed exclusive care, without the rearrangement that places oneself and one's salvation at the center of all things, there is no piety—that is, in fact, what defines this very powerful virtue.

chi siamo noi, chi è ciascuno di noi se non una combinatoria d'esperienza, d'informazioni, di letture, d'immaginazioni? Ogni vita è un'enciclopedia, una biblioteca, un inventario di oggetti, un campionario di stili, dove tutto può essere continuamente rimescolato e riordinato in tutti i modi possibili.

trastocó la realidad y ya nada volvió a ser como antes.

She moved from that chair to this one over here (pointing to a small chair in the corner)

Insight," he said, "is almost always a rearrangement of fact.

It may not be terribly fruitful to rearrange deck chairs on the Titanic, but that doesn't mean it isn't satisfying.

This realization was the mental equivalent of a slow-motion clip played in reverse: A great mess lifts itself off the floor and flies upward to arrange itself on a tabletop. Tea unpuddles and siphons itself into cups midair to land neatly on a tray. Books leap from a jumble, flapping their covers like wings, and rise to roost in a stack. Sense out of madness.

We had gay burglars the other night. They broke in and rearranged the furniture.

cerro se está acomodando

This is that moment in the hangover in which you discover that your keys are in your hat, the cat is in the sink, and you attempted late the previous night to make stew out of a pot holder. Things are in the wrong place. Religion is in the box where science used to be. Politics is on the shelf where you thought you left science the previous afternoon. Entertainment seems to have been knocked over and spilled on everything.

I'd like to tell you not to be afraid, but I've lost my voice. I'm not used to all these legs, these claws, these feelers. It's the old story, predictable as fallout—the rearrangement of molecules. And everyone is surprised and no one understands why each man tries to kill the thing he loves, when the change comes over him. So now you know what I never found the time to say. Sweetheart, put down your flamethrower. You know I always loved you.

The old storytellers took the stories that meant something to them and rearranged the pieces to say something.