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Updated: June 10, 2025
Take off, I entreat thee, Thy black cloak." She stretched out her hand, as if she sought something in space on which she might rest. Gwynplaine, rising by the side of Ursus, who had suddenly become as though petrified, knelt down before her. "Never," said Dea, "never shall I hear him again." She began, wandering, to sing again: "Deja, quiero, A tu negro Caparazon."
"Señorita," he replied, "lo venderia con gusto pero pienso que me paga lo que quiero por el." Which delighted Helen. "Pagare lo que sea." The Mexican hesitated a moment. "¿Pagara cuarenta pesos?" he asked, finally. "Yo tambien quiero al caballo mucho," he added. "Pero por cuarenta pesos pienso pienso que lo olvido." And he grinned. Helen turned to the others.
Señor Quiero had fires of blazing pine knots at the door. When the procession passed we noted its elements. In front was the band of ten boys; men with curious standards mounted on poles followed.
No fear of being houcked here, Thomas, and preserved in a glass case, like a stuffed woodcock, in Surgeons Hall. I am a barbarian, Tom, in these respects I am a barbarian, and nothing of a philosopher. Quiero Paz is to be my epitaph. Quiero Paz 'Cursed be he who stirs these bones. Did not even Shakspeare write it? What poetry in this spot, Thomas! Oh,
But in any event let us adopt the Calderónian formula in La Vida es Sueño: Que estoy soñando y que quiero obrar hacer bien, pues no se pierde el hacer bien aun en sueños But are good deeds really not lost? Did Calderón know? And he added: Acudamos a lo eterno que es la fama vividora donde ni duermen las dichas no las grandezas reposan Is it really so? Did Calderón know?
Y por esto quiero y pretendo para la mujer derechos políticos, porque entiendo que uno de sus resultados será enriquecer, mejorar y favorecer sus aptitudes y aspiraciones para servir a los altos ideales de la vida y de la sociedad.
After an hour or two of hard work, we got them all up, and found the carts standing full of hides, which we had to unload, and to load the carts again with our own goods; the lazy Indians, who came down with them, squatting on their hams, looking on, doing nothing, and when we asked them to help us, only shaking their heads, or drawling out ``no quiero.
I am below. He is above. He is gone. I remain. I shall hear his voice no more, nor his footstep. God, who had given us a little Paradise on earth, has taken it away. Gwynplaine, it is over. I shall never feel you near me again. Never! And his voice! I shall never hear his voice again. And she sang: "Es menester a cielos ir Deja, quiero, A tu negro Caparazon." "We must go to heaven.
When I stepped into a field toward a man behind his wooden plow, he said in a very decided tone of voice, "No, senor, no quiero!" "Why not?" I asked. "Porque no quiero, senor," and he swung the sort of small adze he carried to break up the clods of the field rather loosely and with a determined gleam in his eye. I did not want the picture so badly as all that.
DON EDUARDO. ¡Otro abrazo ... otro ... es tanto lo que te quiero! Adiós.
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