#translate

From the early days of European migration to America, in the 17th Century, the prototype of buildings was based on English precedent, even if mostly translated into the locally available material in abundance: timber. ↗

— Harry Seidler

#america #available #based #buildings #century

We may always depend on it that algebra, which cannot be translated into good English and sound common sense, is bad algebra. ↗

— William Kingdon Clifford

#always #bad #cannot #common #common sense

The voice collects and translates your bad physical health, your emotional worries, your personal troubles. ↗

— Placido Domingo

#collects #emotional #health #personal #physical

Any man who does not have his inner world to translate is not an artist. ↗

— Theophile Gautier

#artist #does #his #inner #inner world

The nature of anguish is translated into different forms. ↗

— Franz Kline

#different #forms #into #nature #translated

Where words can be translated into equivalent words, the style of an original can be closely followed; but no translation which aims at being written in normal English can reproduce the style of Aristotle. ↗

— Gilbert Murray

#aristotle #being #closely #english #equivalent

That's definitely a part of who Superman is and definitely who Clark on the farm is. It translates to how calm he is. I feel like I'm pretty calm most of the time and relaxed, which gives presence to the character. ↗

— Brandon Routh

#character #clark #definitely #farm #feel

You know, this is really a way of cooking. It's not my way. I'm deeply influenced by the Mediterranean way of being. I've spent a lot of time there. And I've sort of translated it; I've tried to make it available to people in this country to whom it might not be familiar. ↗

— Sally Schneider

#being #cooking #country #deeply #familiar

I love the night passionately. I love it as I love my country, or my mistress, with an instinctive, deep, and unshakeable love. I love it with all my senses: I love to see it, I love to breathe it in, I love to open my ears to its silence, I love my whole body to be caressed by its blackness. Skylarks sing in the sunshine, the blue sky, the warm air, in the fresh morning light. The owl flies by night, a dark shadow passing through the darkness; he hoots his sinister, quivering hoot, as though he delights in the intoxicating black immensity of space. ↗

— Guy de Maupassant

#constantine #from #helen #paris #tales

Alting gentog sig. Selvom rublen var skiftet ud med kronen, og militærflyene oven over hendes hoved var blevet færre, og officerernes koner mindre højrøstede, og selvom den estiske nationalsang dagligt lød fra højttalerne i Lange-Hermann-tårnet, ville der altid dukke en ny kernelæderstøvle op, altid en ny støvle, en, der var magen til, eller også så den anderledes ud, men måden den trådte én over halsen på, ville altid være den samme. ↗

— Sofi Oksanen

#renselse #translated #men