"Quezon" içeren İngilizce örnek cümleler

I dwelt in Quezon City.
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I like the skewered saucy fish balls from the streets of Quezon City.
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My friend lives in Quezon City.
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On the 1st of November of 2021, I joined Hans the Netherlander at his table in the cafe. The day after Halloween was rainy outside. Whilst I was drinking iced green tea, Hans gave me a piece of brown candy. He took out a jar of peanuts and offered me, but I said that I get pimples from peanuts. As a child in Quezon City, my family had a peanut farm near our lot; we boiled them, and I ate, as I was not allergic as a prepubescent. We then talked all about astronomy: exoplanets, asteroids, and the moons of the gas giants. Titan, a moon of Saturn, is specially stunning with its black methanic rivers, lakes, and seas. Hans said that the next fifty years will be exciting for astronomy. As we talked, a big handsome man with a muscular build came in, ordered coffee, and left.
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In the outskirts of Quezon City, amidst a red savannah stood my house. On the lawn, there were two small artificial hills with a jocote tree beside them. On the tree hung strung circular tinted capiz shells.
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In the outskirts of Quezon City, amidst a red savannah stood our house. Our lawn and lush tropical garden made it seem like an oasis.
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Our house in the red savannah outskirts of Quezon City stood by a cliff. Near that cliff was a bushy area, which the maids cut back with machetes. There were intriguing vines with spade-shaped purple leaves. They might have been tuber plants.
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Our house in the outskirts of Quezon City stood in a red savannah. When it was dry weather, often red dust devils would sweep the grounds. Sometimes, they could be as big as a house. I sometimes ventured to stand in the middle of a red dust devil, as I felt the swirling air.
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Our house on the outskirts of Quezon City stood in a red savannah. During a typhoon, violent rain carved the red soil like "Grand Canyon" sculptures.
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In Quezon City, my family enjoyed a favourite place where there were two restaurants, Italian Village and Monk's Inn, both medievally decorated. In the latter, I had my first taste of French onion soup and bouillabaisse. In the former, I enjoyed lasagna.
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In Quezon City, at the end of a road lined with coconut trees was Merced Bakehouse that was full of Filipino baked goodies.
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In Quezon City when I was child, my family visited a mushroom farm. The mushrooms grew on rectangular hay bales.
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In Quezon City when I was a child, my family visited a treehouse resort. There were various treehouses for rent.
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In the Philippines, my best friends were my cousins. Whilst in the outskirts of Quezon City, we imagined the red savannah as planet Mars, and we trekked through it. In rural Ibaan, we would be amongst piggeries and woven mats full of drying "kamias" under the heat of the tropical sun.
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Living in Quezon City, in the 1970s, my family used to visit our friends Uncle Ben and Auntie Dettie with their children Jojo, Joy, and then baby Julius. Jojo was very imaginative and constructed sci-fi dioramas out of shoeboxes. My brother, I, and he were playing with snails, throwing them at one another and against the fence wall. I guess that we could have made an escargot dish out them.

After school hours, my brother and I often stopped by my Auntie Mila's house at Kamias Street in Quezon City to play with my cousins. It was an ancient mansion that was once a foreign embassy. Workers supposedly moved it brick by brick from an outlying province into the city. Auntie Mila was a person attuned to Philippine native culture. She liked all these handmade wooden and shell native crafts. On the other hand, her husband, my Uncle Joe, was very pro-American and inculcated their kids in the English language early on because they intended on later emigrating to the USA. I thought to myself that it was unusual that these cousins spoke English at home as if they were actors on television. But they did speak Tagalog with us. Uncle Joe was from a province, Pangasinan, where Tagalog was a second language; there, people spoke the language Pangasinan amongst themselves. He spoke also the regional language, Ilocano.

I have been studying Japanese aesthetics consciously since my teenage years on Lulu Island, or maybe even before, as a prepubescent somewhat unwittingly in the Philippines. In Quezon City, we kids watched Japanese samurai shows and cartoons. We made Zero fighters and Messerschmidts as cardboard airplanes to hang from the ceiling of our library, where we had collection jars of crab-like spiders with thick exoskeletons. On Lulu Island, I studied autodidactically the basics of Hiragana, Katakana, and Kanji, the components of the Japanese language, during vacation as a teenager, whilst I did also watercolour painting and sculptures from DAS air-dry clay. I then took Japanese language in university. In my twenties, I actually lived in Japan for some time. Later, for years on my Social Media, I have been observing exquisite Japanese images. And I become a fan of anime. To me, Japanese aesthetics allude to Finnish, Eskimo, and Polynesian artwork. Japanese art can contrast the ancient with the ultramodern.

Born in the Philippines, I had the nickname Nonong, as my family intuitively knew that Orientalism imbued me from childhood. I grew up with the official name Victor like an Occidental in Batangas, Quezon City, and Lulu Island. Though I was nominally a Roman Catholic at birth, Buddha statues and wild bison attracted me as a child. Today, I am a Syncretist, but chiefly a Buddhist-Animist, and I believe in Science. I know that Buddhism is an advanced psychology and that biology can explain Animism. Of Buddhist kinds, I have encountered Zen from Japanese, Theravāda from Thais, and Pure Land from Chinese. Red Indians, Shintoists, Daoists, Oz Aborigines, Eskimos, Pacific Islanders, and other indigenous peoples have imbued my Animistic thoughts.

Many opine that I am like a Red Indian. It started long ago when I lived in the Martianesque red-soil fields of Don José Heights in Quezon City in the Philippines. My cousins, my brother, and I had adventures in that wilderness. Tall yellow-green grasses that we called "talahib" grew in the red soil. Purple vines with heart-shaped leaves grew around the treed areas.

I deem myself lucky that in my childhood, there was always some kind of wilderness to explore. In the Philippines, there was the Martianesque red-soil vastness of Don José Heights in Quezon City. In BC, there were the dirt mounds on the unbuilt school grounds of Rideau Park on Lulu Island. Red poppies grew in the brown earth. It was then the debut of the Star Wars franchise; I imagined Jawas might have lurked in the mounds. There were impromptu mountain bike tracks in the mounds.

I tripped in the alleyway in the darkness, as I crashed my knees on the asphalt. There was a wooden board that covered a wire between houses across the alleyway. It was very dark there at night. My eyeglasses fell off my face. Luckily, a Cantonese labourer with a flashlight helped me. My knees just got scraped. I remember another time when I crashed on my knees. It was at Don José Heights in Quezon City in the Philippines. There was a vastness of Martianesque red soil, wherein the "talahib" grass grew. Sometimes, workers intentionally set the grass on fire. My brother and I were still playing, even then, outside. We were still prepubescent. Near burning grass, I stumbled on my knees. My grandmother, Lola Bebe, was so angry. A maid washed my legs in the big tiled sink behind the garage.