Gianluigi Buffon Quotes

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Maybe I'm the only footballer who isn't interested in cars. My Lancia Y gets me around.

Gianluigi Buffon
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Similar Quotes by Gianluigi Buffon

Maybe I'm the only footballer who isn't interested in cars. My Lancia Y gets me around.

Gianluigi Buffon
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It's fine to admit being nervous - after the event. But if you tell people you're uptight before the game, it can be like, 'That guy's got problems. We can't trust him.'

Gianluigi Buffon
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The role of a goalkeeper is difficult to judge, above all if you haven't been a goalkeeper. It's like me giving an opinion on someone's job without having had any experience in their sector. You start to realise how many stupid things are said and written about goalkeepers.

Gianluigi Buffon
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When you have the chance to play a Champions League final, you have to win it.

Gianluigi Buffon
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Montesquieu had the style of a genius Buffon the genius of style.

Baron Grimm
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Never think that God's delays are God's denials. Hold on hold fast hold out. Patience is genius.

Comte de Buffon
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Hold on hold fast hold out. Patience is genius.

Georges de Buffon
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The sublime can only be found in the great subjects. Poetry, history and philosophy all have the same object, and a very great object—Man and Nature. Philosophy describes and depicts Nature. Poetry paints and embellishes it. It also paints men, it aggrandizes them, it exaggerates them, it creates heroes and gods. History only depicts man, and paints him such as he is.

Georges-Louis Leclerc, Comte de Buffon
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I had artistic classical training, and when you learn the classics for so many years, you might gain audacity, power and confidence to subvert everything. I am like the originals buffoons. I love the rules because I can break them.

Nuno Roque
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Muchos años después, frente al pelotón de fusilamiento, el coronel Aureliano Buendía había de recordar aquella tarde remota en que su padre lo llevó a conocer el hielo. Macondo era entonces una aldea de 20 casas de barro y cañabrava construidas a la orilla de un río de aguas diáfanas que se precipitaban por un lecho de piedras pulidas, blancas y enormes como huevos prehistóricos. El mundo era tan reciente, que muchas cosas carecían de nombre, y para mencionarlas había que señalarlas con el dedo".

Gabriel García Márquez, Cien años de soledad
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