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Updated: June 19, 2025
"You are not serious?" he queried at last. "Indeed I am. I'm actually engaged now, at this moment and we propose to get married before Christmas." "But it is impossible! Giusto Cielo! But impossible!" reiterated the old man. "Mees Quentin, you cannot haf understood. Perhaps, in my anxiety that you should strain every nerve to improve, I haf not praised you enough and so you haf not understood.
"'O Violenza, sorgi, balena in questo cielo Sanguigno, stupra le albe, irrompi come incendio nei vesperi, fa di tutto il sereno una tempesta, fa di tutta la vita una bataglia, fa con tutte le anime un odio solo! "There's no special holiness in violence. Violence is right because it's necessary." "You mean it's necessary because it's right." Austen Mitchell spoke.
It is not necessary to take very literally, but as a lyrical, or rather rhetorical, effusion, the words of our famous sonnet No me mueve, mi Dios, para quererte el cielo que me tienes prometido, and the rest that follows. The real sin perhaps it is the sin against the Holy Ghost for which there is no remission is the sin of heresy, the sin of thinking for oneself.
Peter's, of which the Pope is known to have remarked, as he looked at it out of his window in the Vatican, 'O CIELO! QUESTA COSA NON SARA FATTA, MAI ANCORA, COME QUESTA O Heaven! this thing will never be done again, like this! He has seen every lion he ever saw, under some remarkably propitious circumstances.
Pèp was dozing in a low chair, overcome by weariness, and his wife screamed with terror whenever a loud thunder clap shook the house, interjecting between her groans fragments of prayers, murmured in Castilian for greater efficacy: "Santa Barbara bendita, que en el cielo estas escrita " Margalida, heedless of the glances of her suitors, seemed half dead with fright.
If one could see nothing, it was good to be there to hear the shouting one would understand the better when Tonio should be taking his bit of supper and free to talk for he was no good to his old mother now, with watching the tacking and the people. And one might as well be dead as to stay far off in Burano on a day like this! Cielo, but the bells and the shouting were divine!
The constant succession of hopes, fears, wants, gratitudes, loves, and the necessity of employing his imagination, accounts for all. "Io veggio in cielo scintillar le stelle,"
How unutterably worn out, stilted, and artificial seems all the so-called pastoral poetry ever written when one sits down to supper and joins in the graceful Cielo or Pericon in one of these remote, semi-barbarous South American estancias! I swear I will turn poet myself, and go back some day to astonish old blase Europe with something so so What the deuce was that?
"But it hasn't been a week since she confessed!" protested Sinang. "I'm not sick and I don't sin as often as that." "Abá! Don't you know what the curate says: the righteous sin seven times a day? Come, what book shall I bring you, the Ancora, the Ramillete, or the Camino Recto para ir al Cielo?" Maria Clara did not answer. "Well, you mustn't tire yourself," added the good aunt to console her.
I will leave them with you. It is perhaps the judgment of Heaven on the Sovrani's uncle, Cardinal Bonpre!" The mistress of the inn crossed herself devoutly. "Guiosto cielo! Would Heaven punish a Cardinal?" "Certainly! If a Cardinal is a heretic!" The stout padrona clasped her hands and shuddered. "Not possible!" "Quite possible!" And Gherardi drained his coffee-cup.
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