Englisch Beispielsätze mit "Oriental"

I have an interest in oriental ceramics.
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He is something of an expert on oriental art.
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She plans to stay at the Oriental Hotel.
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The article on Buddhism revived my passion for Oriental religions.
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The article on Buddhism revived my interest in oriental religions.
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I'm interested in oriental pottery.
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They said that he was a talkative, noisy Oriental.
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It's a slow Oriental rhythm.
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Eliza's not Oriental.
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Tom and Mary bought an Oriental rug.
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That delicately bronzed skin, almost Oriental in its colouring, that raven hair, the large liquid eyes, the full but exquisite lips—all the stigmata of passion were there.
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Rich furs and strange iridescent mats from some Oriental bazaar were scattered upon the floor.
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As a student, I became interested in oriental languages.
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My locality is a nexus for occidental and oriental interplay, which is abundant in emotional undulations.
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Externally, Toki Pona is a language of the West. At its core, however, Toki Pona is a language of oriental character.
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It's common in oriental civilizations.
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A great motivation for keeping sinograms in Oriental languages is to distinguish the multitude of homonyms.
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There are a lot of depressed Oriental women in my neighbourhood on Lulu Island.
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I read the novel Ladylord by Sasha Miller about an Oriental-like fantasy world. Unlike some Western-author fantasy books which portrayed a more European-like setting, this book was different.
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Kevyn was an online Filipino friend who lived in my North American metropolis. He was an enthusiast of conlangs, such as Toki Pona and Elefen. He wrote a poem in my own conlang Vong. Dear to him was the comparative deep study of religions. He grew up Roman Catholic, but later grew to like Hinduism. In his religious studies, he did not neglect the sexual aspect. I noticed that he had an Oriental face.
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Vling, my prototype of a tonal Oriental-like artificial language, is still indeed just a prototype. Its symbolic colour is orange.
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I know you're a Sinophobe. "Alien" is not a metaphor for an Oriental.
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For me, an Oriental is not a foreigner.
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It's like your first time talking to an Oriental.
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In Lojban, one can optionally write a topic-comment sentence, as in an Oriental language.
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Today on the 14th of April of 2015, is an appointment at the doctor's. In the late morning, on my way, I stop at the Roman Catholic worship centre, a mid-20th-century brown building. A bell rings as it is the end of recess for the noisy children at the adjacent school. It is practically empty in the spacious interior of the worship centre, except for a middle-aged, dark-haired Caucasian woman by the candles and an Oriental who looks like George Takei and who passes me by as he heads out. I sit at the pew, centre right. The banners above are in faded pastels, blue, pink, yellow, and green, with three butterflies printed on them each. A month ago, the banners were all purple. The statue of floating JC, front centre, is adorned in white and yellow cloth. The standing cross to the right is covered with green paper bits. I stand up and walk to the lobby area. Therein, I marvel at the Mexican Santa María painting and whisper the Spanish words on the caption. I gaze at the elegant photographs of Pope Francis and some other high-level religious authority figure. As I exit the building, a Filipino woman approaches the statue of white and blue Virgin Mary at the outside corner.

On the 14th of April of 2015, I walk to the Richmond Public Market, I first climbing the stairs outside. Inside, the wide atrium-like building is like a garden in a jungle surrounding, I imagine. Already quite hungry, I trot to Captain Wa, the food vendor, to get noodles with squid, fish, and tofu, as well as hot tea. As I eat, a handsome First Nations man in a purple T-shirt walks by. Then a handsome, stocky Jewish fellow walks by. A few minutes later, I begin to thirst, so I get a cold Mint Bubble Green Tea at the vendor QQ Bubble Tea and Coffee. I sit by the stairs to sip. A threesome family sits eating nearby, the man being black, the woman being Oriental, and the child being a hybrid. Addicted to Bubble Tea, I get another one, this time at Peanut's. It is a cold Green Apple Bubble Green Tea. It is delicious. I take the escalator down. On my way to the washroom, I notice a big aquarium full of probably giant red Alaskan king crabs with barnacles on their legs. They remind me of extraterrestrials, somehow. At the bookstore, I buy a heavily illustrated green botany book in sinograms. I left it on top of a box a month ago and it is still there. It is $14. I take the escalator up. Addicted to Bubble Tea, I spend my remaining coins on a cold Lychee Bubble Green Tea. It is delicious with even bits of white lychee flesh.

On the 26th of February of 2022, I tried to keep my day simple. Before dawn, at the corner convenience store, I drank a cold canned Thai tea drink and ate a pizza submarine sandwich. In the chilly, grey-sky morning, I headed to the cafe, whilst I practiced meditatively by scribbling Japanese Kana glyphs on my hand with a finger. I drank iced black tea at the cafe, whilst the typical early-morning clients were there, a Caucasian and an Oriental. A robust man in a black, red, and white jacket and dark-grey rugby pants entered to get coffee and exited, as he talked on his smartphone. Homebound, I took the long route across the vast green school field, seemingly an Animist-Buddhist experience of being on a different planet, the northern snowcapped bluish mountains being visible beyond.

The 2nd of March of 2022 was somewhat uneventful. I went to the pizzeria in the morning. There were some old folk with white hair. Homebound, I saw on the sidewalk an Oriental boy squatting, wearing orange and yellow. He got up and walked away. Some landscapers were at a yard. There was an orange-vested handsome labourer fiddling with his machine tool by his vehicle. For lunch and dinner at home, it seemed special with steamed tofu and fish on rice.

It is the 1st of June of 2013. I have reached an Intermediate Level in Lojban. I know many words in memory. I can write any prose or poetry that I wish with the help of a handy dictionary for the words that escape me. I know about 90% of the grammar. I guess that I should be satisfied. A nickname that I give Lojban is "zirbau," the Purple Language. Some people still believe in the Orange Dream of some Vling-like Oriental conlang. For me, it is still one foot in reality and one foot in fantasy. Lojban is not just fantasy because it is a realized dream.

According to the eschatology of your modish religion, this world would end soon. My Auntie Modie and Uncle Lex waited and waited, but they passed away without witnessing the end of this world. The same was with my father and grandmother who both had the same religion. Are you sure that your generation is so privileged to see the end? Why would you have children? Your religion is not long-view Oriental.

Many Westerners appreciate the wide variety in the visual graphic aspect of Oriental glyphs.

My Hongkonger friend Don and I often talked about contemporary sci-fi shows of the decades of the 1990s and the 2000s, as we sat eating delicious Oriental dishes and drinking tea at our favourite haunt in East Vancouver, BC. We compared the multiple series of Star Trek with Babylon 5. Don was convinced that Babylon 5 was too full of interspecies politics.

In the raining morning of the 26th of March of 2022, I ate a cheese pizza slice and drank iced diet cola at the pizzeria. On the big screen with sound off was a show about cheetahs in a savannah. In the grey afternoon, I was there again to eat a butter chicken slice and drink a cold diet cola. On the big screen was the rerun of the cheetah show. Homebound, I saw my Oriental lady neighbour pressure washing her driveway.

In the early morning of the 27th of March of 2022, I was not the usual pizza junkie. I drank iced black tea and ate barbecued potato chips at the Lulu Island cafe. Two noisy Cantonese men were present. Outside, near the park, I saw a large orange thermos in a shopping cart. Some were promoting the Orange Dream, the fantasy of an Oriental conlang. Walking on, I encountered the French-Canadian Alex with his friendly Chocolate Labrador, Ellie. I reminded myself that there was also the Chocolate Dream of a fantasy conlang. In the late morning, I went to the pizzeria to eat two slices and drink a cold diet cola. I found out that Rose, the Filipina vendor, was about 9 or 10 years younger than me, so she alerted me that I should not use the Tagalog "po" reverential grammatical particle to her. My third walk took me to the pizzeria in the evening. I was drinking just cold diet cola, as I was watching the 94th Oscars on the big screen with sound off. Three young Filipinas came in to order. Later, I peeked into the new Japanesque SunTea Bakery, and the Purple Yam Mochi Soft Bread, selling at "9.5" Canadian dollars each, intrigued me. I might try it someday. The vendors spoke Mandarin.

I think that Rose is more Oriental than they are.

A lady Oriental neighbour who wants me to call her "Mrs. T" lives in a big corner house in my Lulu Island neighbourhood. She has two noisy dogs.

Joki was a young Mandarin-speaking Chinese woman, and I had talked to her yesterday evening, the 10th of March of 2020, at the café Starbucks. She had been in Canada for over a decade, whilst her family was still in China. I was sitting in a soft chair next to hers, as she was applying a transparent green fragrant hand lotion on her hands. I inquired, because it was such a strong, but pleasant, odour. She said that it was something that she had ordered online. It was made of various plant materials, but unspecific on the labels. Joki was wearing a long, red Oriental jacket that made her look like a temple priestess. She had long black hair and had eyeglasses. Her necklace had a fat black stone Maitreya Buddha. She wore a meditation bracelet of black mala beads.

I am sure that the language Lojban can better express buddho-animistic things than can Western languages, and even Oriental languages can.

For me, 3 does not mean Xtianity, as I have an Oriental outlook, in which 3 means birth or life. In the Theravāda Buddhist tradition, the scripture is the Triple Basket, the Tipiṭaka or Tripiṭaka. The Hindus have a Trinity, the Trimūrti.

The Northmen believed in giants and dwarfs; in wizzards and fairies; in necromancy and enchantments; as well as the Oriental natives.

It's the 17th of May of 2025. After 13:00, I walked to Tim Hortons café again, there to sip Earl Grey Tea with oat milk. I bought a box of 20 Honey Dip Timbits (donut holes) for family guests tomorrow. There was in the café the familiar Oriental-white hybrid couple, of which the man looked eerily like John Lennon the musician. A trio of familiar teenage mulattoes entered, one of which reminded me of my Jamaican friend, Graeme S., whose uncle was Phil Collins the musician. When I was in university, I and my friends would sometimes visit the West Vancouver house of Graeme's rich Uncle Victor, who was Jewish. Their grand house had a backyard Jacuzzi and a swimming pool, overlooking Burrard Inlet. Graeme's uncle and aunt were one of the first tourists to China when that country opened up in the 1980s. They brought back with them an ancient-looking stringed instrument. (Incidentally, my Auntie Mila visited China in the 1970s when it was still a forbidden country. Auntie was some kind of administrator for the Philippine Bayanihan dance troupe.)