검색어: i've heard a lot of good things about you (영어 - 타갈로그어)

i've heard a lot of good things about you
ive heard a lot

i've heard a lot of good things about june birthdays.
balita ko maraming handa ang mga mag be birthday ng june.

i don't know a lot of things about germany.
wala akong masyadong alam tungkol sa alemanya.

we ate a lot of good food
kumain kami ng masarap n pagkaen

wish me a lot of good lucks
wish me a lot of good lucks.

i think this medicine will do you a lot of good.
sa tingin ko, makabubuti sa iyo ang gamot na ito.

i think the teacher because the change is so big to my daughter and she learn a lot of good things i say my daughter be coming a ginue child
sa tingin ko ang guro dahil ang pagbabago ay napakalaki sa aking anak na babae at matututunan niya ang maraming magagandang bagay na sinasabi ko na ang aking anak na babae ay darating na isang matalinong bata

what motivates me to choose your company is because i think a lot of people want to join your company because they say you have a good management system and a lot of good oppurtunity jobs here
ang nagpa motivate po sakin na piliin ang inyong kompanya dahil po sa tingin ko madami po naghahangad na mkapasok sa inyong kompanya dahil daw po maganda po ang inyong pamamalakad at madami daw po magaganda oppurtunity trabaho dito

it's a good thing i still have friends who are true to me that i won't be left alone if they have a problem there,but it's just a pain to hear that i'm coping with other people then it's not a bad habit i'm really good at it my friends sometimes i really want to die but i can't i think so i'm about to give up i want to cry because i can't because i have a lot of confidence i'll just hide to cry when i give up i want to
buti nalang may mga kaibigan pa kong natitira na totoo sakin na di ako iiwan pag may problema andyan sila,pero ang sakit lang ayuko na marinig na pinag cocompair ako sa ibang tao eh di iba naman ugali ko sakanila buti nalang talaga andyan mga friend ko minsan gusto ko nalang talagang mag paka matay pero di ko magawa di ko na yata kaya malapit na kong sumuko gustong gusto ko umiyak kasi di ko magawa kasi madaming makakarig tatago nalang ako para umiyak pagon na ko ayuko na gusto ko nalang mamatay

a low art [excerpt from the penelopiad] by margaret atwood (canada) now that i’m dead i know everything. this is what i wished would happen, but like so many of my wishes it failed to come true. i know only a few factoids that i didn’t know before. death is much too high a price to pay for the satisfaction of curiosity, needless to say. since being dead — since achieving this state of bonelessness, liplessness, breastlessness —i’ve learned some things i would rather not know, as one does when listening at windows or opening ot her people’s letters. you think you’d like to read minds? think again. down here everyone arrives with a sack, like the sacks used to keep the winds in, but each of these sacks is full of words —words you’ve spoken, words you’ve heard, wo rds that have been said about you. some sacks are very small, others large; my own is of a reasonable size, though a lot of the words in it concern my eminent husband. what a fool he made of me, some say. it was a specialty of his: making fools. he got away with everything, which was another of his specialties: getting away. he was always so plausible. many people have believed that his version of events was the true one, give or take a few murders, a few beautiful seductresses, a few one-eyed monsters. even i believed him, from time to time. i knew he was tricky and a liar, i just didn’t think he would play his tricks and try out his lies on me. hadn’t i been faithful? hadn’t i waited, and waited, and waited, despite the temptation — almost the compulsion — to do otherwise? and what did i amount to, once the official version gained ground? an edifying legend. a stick used to beat other women with. why couldn’t they be as considerate, as trustworthy, as all-suffering as i had been? that was the line they took, the singers, the yarn- spinners. don’t follow my example, i want to scream in your ears — yes, yours! but when i try to scream, i sound like an owl. of course i had inklings, about his slipperiness, his wiliness, his foxiness, his — how can i put this? — his unscrupulousness, but i turned a blind eye. i kept my mouth shut; or if i opened it, i sang his praises. i didn’t contradict, i didn’t ask awkward questions, i didn’t dig deep. i wanted happy endings in those days, and happy endings are best achieved by keeping the right doors locked and going to sleep during the rampages. but after the main events were over and things had become less legendary, i realised how many people were laughing at me behind my back — how they were jeering, making jokes about me, jokes both clean and dirty; how they were turning me into a story, or into several stories, though not the kind of stories i’d prefer to hear about m yself. what can a woman do when scandalous gossip travels the world? if she defends herself she sounds guilty. so i waited some more. now that all the others have run out of air, it’s my t urn to do a little storymaking. i owe it to myself. i’ve had to work myself up to it: it’s a low art, tale-telling. old women go in for it, strolling beggars, blind singers, maidservants, children — folks with time on their hands. once, people would have laughed if i’d tried to play th e minstrel —there’s nothing more preposterous than an aristocrat fumbling around with the arts — but who cares about public opinion now? the opinion of the people down here: the opinions of shadows, of echoes. so i’ll spin a thread of my own.
isang mababang kwento ng sining sa tagalog