He was getting undressed and it snapped something inside of him that had been drawing taut, ready to break for months. 'I'm hungry, Bruno, ' he said, in a soft voice, as he removed the shirt from his broad shoulders, revealing a perfect sight of smooth dark skin. 'I can't wait for dinner, ' he continued, with a smile. When he put his hands to the fastening of his trousers, Bruno let out a sigh and put the take out menus on the counter. He couldn't look at him, because he knew Lyon was trying to seduce him on purpose. He didn't want to talk or hear him out or spend time with him that didn't end with an orgasm. 'I can't do this anymore, ' Bruno confessed, quietly.
The passion has never left me. I live as two people - myself, Dan Fante, and Bruno Dante or Mickey Di Salvo, or whoever I say I am in one of my books. I can tap that Bruno character any time I need to. He lives inside me like a quiet, simmering pool of magma. Years ago I stopped feeding him with booze and he was kind enough to stop trying to kill me. That's our truce.
The people I see from my window. In the huts, in the distance. They're all dressed the same.' 'Ah, those people,' said Father, nodding his head and smiling slightly. 'Those people...well, they're not people at all, Bruno.' Bruno frowned. 'They're not?' he asked, unsure what Father meant by that.
He's crazy, " Bruno said, twirling a finger in circles around the side of his head and whistling to indicate just how crazy he thought he was. "He went up to a cat on the street the other day and invited her over for afternoon tea." "What did the cat say?" asked Gretel, who was making a sandwich in the corner of the kitchen. "Nothing." explained Bruno. "It was a cat.
To make the distinction unmistakably clear: Civilization is the vital force in human history; culture is that inert mass of institutions and organizations which accumulate around and tend to drag down the advance of life; Civilization is Giordano Bruno facing death by fire; culture is the Cardinal Bellarmino, after ten years of inquisition, sending Bruno to the stake in the Campo di Fiori...
Bruno is my friend and I talk to him as much as I can. I want him to get better as soon as possible and get back to racing. I know I'll have to begin worrying about what I do next year pretty soon. I really just started thinking about that. Maybe I should be calling some people now, but I'm just enjoying this so much that it's hard to think about that.
Bruno withdrew from the field of history more resolutely than Vigo; that is why I prefer the former's retrospect but the latter's prospect. As an anarch, I am determined to go along with nothing, ultimately take nothing seriously - at least not nihilistically, but rather as a border guard in no man's land, who sharpens his eyes and ears between the tides.
I think the men in L.A. are very rugged, good-looking. Men in New York look metro with their manis and pedis and their Bruno Magli loafers, but inside they're very masculine - aside from the Meatpacking District. The problem is the men in New York are five to one: five women to one man.
The real story of our times is seldom told in the horse-puckey-filled memoirs of dopey, self-serving presidents or generals, but in the outrageous, demented lives of guys like Lenny Bruce, Giordano Bruno, Scott Fitzgerald - and Paul Krassner. The burrs under society's saddle. The pains in the ass.
I think Bruno Mars is a great example of a great voice and classic songwriting with a twist that makes it contemporary. I think he's done a great job of it. I think Katy Perry has undeniable songs for what she does, for that pop market. And, if we're talking in the truly pop market, I would say those two.
In England Giordano Bruno had given lectures on the plurality of worlds, and in that country had written, in Italian, his most important works. It added not a little to the exasperation against him, that he was perpetually declaiming against the insincerity, the impostures, of his persecutors - that wherever he went he found skepticism varnished over and concealed by hypocrisy; and that it was not against the belief of men, but against their pretended belief, that he was fighting; that he was struggling with an orthodoxy that had neither morality nor faith.
John William Draper
After Bruno's death, during the first half of the seventeenth century, Descartes seemed about to take the leadership of human thought... in promoting an evolution doctrine as regards the mechanical formation of the solar system... but his constant dread of persecution, both from Catholics and Protestants, led him steadily to veil his thoughts and even to suppress them. ...Since Roger Bacon, perhaps, no great thinker had been so completely abased and thwarted by theological oppression.
Andrew Dickson White
I don't care if it's Bruno Mars or Aerosmith or ZZ Top... it's about songs. 'Paperback Writer,' 'Satisfaction,' 'Cat Scratch Fever,' 'Walk This Way,' all the killer songs in the world start with an identifiable guitar pattern that is basically a bastardization of either honky-tonk or boogie-woogie. And that's in every cool piece of music in the world that you and I love.
For the hundredth time, he examined his face in the bathroom mirror, patiently touched every scratch with the styptic pencil, and repowdered them. He ministered to his face and hands objectively, as if they were not a part of himself. When his eyes met the staring eyes in the mirror, they slipped away as they must have slipped away, Guy thought, that first afternoon on the train, when he had tried to avoid Bruno's eyes.
Bruno opened his eyes in wonder at the things he saw. In his imagination he had tough that all the huts were full of happy families, some of whom sat outside on rocking chairs in the evening and told stories about how things were so much better when they were children and they'd had nowadays. He thought that all the boys and girls who lived there would be in different groups, playing tennis or football, skipping and drawing out squares for hopscotch on the ground. As it turned out, all the things he thought might be there-wern't.'' -The boy in the striped Pajamas
Jimmy Sadd is the most evil man I've ever known. I mean really evil. I'm not talking about tough, or cruel - all the bosses are tough and cruel. You'll never get anywhere in our world if you're not respected. But Jimmy... God damn, Bruno, getting involved with Sadd... I'd rather do a deal with the devil himself. Sadd is worse. You'll never get out.' George Hanson In The Shadow of Sadd.
[Giordano] Bruno died, despised and suffering, after eight years of agony. From that moment, his works have attracted interest, and he has long been recognized as an important figure in the development of modern thought. Nevertheless, few are familiar with the many and often bewildering pages of his writings. His Italian works have their place in the history of Italian literature. The Latin works in prose and verse are much more bulky and diffuse, but the few who grapple with them are rewarded by passages of great beauty and eloquence.
If I- if I competed in Bruno Sammartino's era, I'd have been champion for 20 years, too. No, I'd have been champion for 30 years. Because wrestling one night a month at Madison Square Garden is easy. You never see a Hulk Hogan wrestle TLC matches against a superstar like Ryback. Because he had it easy. I wrestle physically demanding matches on free television, week in and week out. So much that my one year equals 30 of theirs. And I have attained this success, not- not because of you. I am successful not because of you. I am successful in spite of you.
MY ROAD TO GLORY IS FILLED WITH THORNS FEARING THOUGHTS FROM MY BRAIN AND I TRAIN TO REMAIN STRONG AND CAN I GIVE IT UP? I'LL BE A CHANGED KILLER MY THOUGHTS WILL MAKE YOU FEEL THE PAIN OF A TRAINED KILLER PLEASE BELIEVE THAT I'LL NEVER BE SHAMED AGAIN BUT CAN I LEAVE THE NEXT HEAVY WEIGHT CHAMPION? CALL ME CRAZY BUT NO ONE CAN FADE ME I'M THE PRODUCT OF THE PROJECTS LOST AND CRAZY THROW YOUR HANDS UP MR. BRUNO, WHY? BIG MIKE TYSON BOUT TO BRUTALIZE THAT ASS TONIGHT NO HESITATION FOR THE WHOLE NATION I BEAT THAT ASS SO BAD I PROBABLY VIOLATE PROBATION THROUGH DEMONSTRATION AS I STRATEGIZE INFORMATION AND INTEND TO KILL SO IT'S REAL LIKE I'M CATCHING CASES
Why should we place Christ at the top and summit of the human race? Was he kinder, more forgiving, more self-sacrificing than Buddha? Was he wiser, did he meet death with more perfect calmness, than Socrates? Was he more patient, more charitable, than Epictetus? Was he a greater philosopher, a deeper thinker, than Epicurus? In what respect was he the superior of Zoroaster? Was he gentler than Lao-tsze, more universal than Confucius? Were his ideas of human rights and duties superior to those of Zeno? Did he express grander truths than Cicero? Was his mind subtler than Spinoza's? Was his brain equal to Kepler's or Newton's? Was he grander in death - a sublimer martyr than Bruno? Was he in intelligence, in the force and beauty of expression, in breadth and scope of thought, in wealth of illustration, in aptness of comparison, in knowledge of the human brain and heart, of all passions, hopes and fears, the equal of Shakespeare, the greatest of the human race?
Robert G. Ingersoll