SEVEN TWENTY SEVEN, SEVEN TWENTY SEVEN, WHEN YOU SEE IT! WHEN YOU FUCKING SEE IT! SEVEN TWENTY SEVEN, SEVEN TWENTY SEVEN! When you fucking see it, when you fucking, see it! when you see it, when you see it, oh my god. When you see it, when you see it, when you see it.

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate - we can not consecrate - we can not hallow - this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us - that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion - that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain - that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom - and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

I walk ten thousand miles, ten thousand miles to see you.

One town's very like another when your head's down over your pieces, brother.

I walked behind her like a child following after his mother.

Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

The prisoners had to be counted before being let out.

Something in your eyes is making such a fool of me. When you hold me in your arms, you love me 'til I just can't see. But then you let me down, when I look around. Baby, you just can't be found. Stop driving me away, I just want to stay. There's something I just got to say.

You speak in abbreviations because real life conversation moves too slowly. You're the media's creation, yeah, your free will has been taken and you don't know.

It had become my custom to read the papers before sleeping.

I want to see what you do, whether you're indeed as manly as you say you are.

One kid makes you ask him to please commit a crime.

To make power, people try to put pieces of this metal close enough together that they make heat fast, but not so close that they go out of control and blow up. This is very hard, but there is so much heat and power stored in this metal that some people have wanted to try anyway.

When you're walking down the path of cultivation, when you turn your head you can't see where you came from, and when you look at the path ahead, it is shrouded in fog.

The voice that came from her lips left an impression that I will remember for the rest of my life.

Allheaven, the time has come for our final battle. You've been hiding from me for tens of thousands of years, and I've also been hiding away. It's time to sort things out once and for all.

I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.

I don't want to talk about it! Every time I think about something nice, you remind me of bad things. I only want to talk about the nice things.

I have something to say. So shut the fuck up and listen. I spent thirteen years half-cut up to my eyeballs. Drunk, to put it mildly. Then suddenly I saw it, a streetlight shining in my face. 500 Gigawatts of the power of God. A vision of my bloated body found in some ditch. Scared me straight. So I got a collar shirt, mortgage and a credit card. All the things that make a good man. I hoped I could raise my children to be better than their old man. I wanted to believe I was never one setback away from my worst self. But the truth is. Discipline. Drive. Routine. The endless fucking desperation to get shit done. A loving wife? Great kids? Sobriety? I'm telling you. You. Accomplishments I'd been chasing all my life. Never felt as good as I expected when I crossed the finish line. ... So now that we're at the end. Takin' inventory. Those nights spinning out of my head, sinking into the sofa. Broken glass in my palms. Bleeding dry the funniest thing ever. Old dogs laughing and snarling on a waterbed floor, mocking the moon for daring to show its face. All nausea and wreckage and vomit and ugly cruelty. The only problem in the world an empty bottle. Those were the best days of my life. Yeah. ...Those were the best days of my life. I got nothing to hide. Ready to face the music. I can see myself for what I am. But you? A cowardly, selfish motherfucker and you can't even see it. ...I should've been able to protect the kid. If I could have done one thing right, I wish it had been to give him one small chance off this goddamned rock.

No, I hired you because you look good. It's like having a nice piece of art in the lobby.

The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive. Cars that were usually gleaming stood dusty in their drives and lawns that were once emerald green lay parched and yellowing; the use of hosepipes had been banned due to drought. Deprived of their usual car-washing and lawn-mowing pursuits, the inhabitants of Privet Drive had retreated into the shade of their cool houses, windows thrown wide in the hope of tempting in a nonexistent breeze. The only person left outdoors was a teenage boy who was lying flat on his back in a flower bed outside number four. He was a skinny, black-haired, bespectacled boy who had the pinched, slightly unhealthy look of someone who has grown a lot in a short space of time. His jeans were torn and dirty, his T-shirt baggy and faded, and the soles of his trainers were peeling away from the uppers. Harry Potter's appearance did not endear him to the neighbors, who were the sort of people who thought scruffiness ought to be punishable by law, but as he had hidden himself behind a large hydrangea bush this evening he was quite invisible to passersby.

Like most very large men, he's getting comfortable early with the fact that his place in the world is very small and his real impact on other persons even smaller - which is a big reason he can sometimes forget to finish his portion of a given substance, so interested does he become in the way he's already started to feel.

Life is one fool thing after another whereas love is two fool things after each other.

I got out of bed, studied it well, then turned it over.

Harry lay flat on his back, breathing hard as though he had been running. He had awoken from a vivid dream with his hands pressed over his face. The old scar on his forehead, which was shaped like a bolt of lightning, was burning beneath his fingers as though someone had just pressed a white-hot wire to his skin. He sat up, one hand still on his scar, the other reaching out in the darkness for his glasses, which were on the bedside table. He put them on and his bedroom came into clearer focus, lit by a faint, misty orange light that was filtering through the curtains from the street lamp outside the window.

You want to know how two chemicals interact, do you ask them? No, they're going to lie through their lying little chemical teeth. Throw them in a beaker and apply heat.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.

Pop out at 1 in the morning, you really wanna know this kind of life never boring. She bought Dior with her man from the store, but she bring it to my table when the drink start pouring. She asking to come with the crew, and the accent, it come with a view.

So the whole war is because we can't talk to each other.

Who wants to have their life planned out for them?

In the town where I was born, lived a man who sailed to sea. And he told us of his life in the land of submarines, so we sailed up to the sun, till we found the sea of green and we lived beneath the waves in our yellow submarine.

You are the most important thing to me now. The most important thing to me ever.

When my island was blanketed in the darkness of night, her land was lit with sunshine. When her country was embraced by the blackness of night, my island shone brightly under the equatorial sun.

He stayed until he saw me enter the house before he left.

People in the Stillness do not speak of other continents, either, though it is plausible to suspect they might exist elsewhere. No one has traveled around the world to see that there aren't any; seafaring is dangerous enough with resupply in sight and tsunami waves that are only a hundred feet high rather than the legendary mountains of water said to ripple across the unfettered deep ocean. They simply take as given the bit of lore passed down from braver civilizations that says there's nothing else. Likewise, no one speaks of celestial objects, though the skies are as crowded and busy here as anywhere else in the universe. This is largely because so much of the people's attention is directed toward the ground, not the sky. They notice what's there: stars and the sun and the occasional comet or falling star. They do not notice what's missing. But then, how can they? Who misses what they have never, ever even imagined? That would not be human nature. How fortunate, then, that there are more people in this world than just humankind.

If you don't like the hand that fate's dealt you with, fight for a new one.

I've thought about it quite a lot: I don't yet really need to reveal who I am before the eyes of others.

It seems the harder you try to hold something in your arms, the quicker it dies.

Stratton envisioned a day when the human species could survive as long as its own behavior allowed, when it could stand or fall based purely on its own actions, and not simply vanish once some predetermined life span had elapsed. Other species might bloom and wither like flowers over seasons of geologic time, but humans would endure for as long as they determined.

I could not yet hope for a really serious conversation with him.

You know, someday, weeks will go by, maybe even years, it won't even cross our minds. We'll come home and we'll talk about work. And what we want for dinner... movies. Nursery schools. It's going to be great. Yeah. Yeah, all we got to do is survive. We will. I promise.

If you really want to become strong, stop caring about what others think about you. Living your life has nothing to do with what others think.

The incommodities of such a war. Whatever is the case in a time of war, where every man is an enemy to every man, the same is true when men live without any other security besides what can be gained by their own strength and invention. In such a condition there is no industry, because its fruit would be uncertain. There is no culture of the earth, no navigation, nor use of the commodities that may be imported by sea. There is no commodious building, no instruments of moving and removing those things that require much force. There is no knowledge of the face of the earth, no account of time, no arts, no letters and no society. Worst of all there is continual fear and danger of violent death, and the life of man is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short.

I get it. This won't stop until I die. But when I die, I want it to hurt. When my friends leave, when I have to let go, when this entire town is wiped off the map, I want it to hurt. Bad. I want to lose. I want to get beaten up. I want to hold on until I'm thrown off and everything ends. And you know what? Until that happens, I want to hope again. And I want it to hurt. Because that means it meant something. It means I am something, at least... pretty amazing to be something, at least...

You can't use the fire exit because you're not made of fire.

My message is that we'll be watching you. This is all wrong. I shouldn't be up here. I should be back in school on the other side of the ocean. Yet you all come to us young people for hope. How dare you! You have stolen my dreams and my childhood with your empty words. And yet I'm one of the lucky ones. People are suffering. People are dying. Entire ecosystems are collapsing. We are in the beginning of a mass extinction, and all you can talk about is money and fairy tales of eternal economic growth. How dare you! For more than 30 years, the science has been crystal clear. How dare you continue to look away and come here saying that you're doing enough, when the politics and solutions needed are still nowhere in sight. You say you hear us and that you understand the urgency. But no matter how sad and angry I am, I do not want to believe that. Because if you really understood the situation and still kept on failing to act, then you would be evil. And that I refuse to believe. The popular idea of cutting our emissions in half in 10 years only gives us a 50% chance of staying below 1.5 degrees Celsius, and the risk of setting off irreversible chain reactions beyond human control. Fifty percent may be acceptable to you. But those numbers do not include tipping points, most feedback loops, additional warming hidden by toxic air pollution or the aspects of equity and climate justice. They also rely on my generation sucking hundreds of billions of tons of your CO2 out of the air with technologies that barely exist. So, a 50% risk is simply not acceptable to us - we who have to live with the consequences. To have a 67% chance of staying below a 1.5 degrees Celsius global temperature rise - the best odds given by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change - the world had 420 gigatons of CO2 left to emit back on January 1st, 2018. Today that figure is already down to less than 350 gigatons. How dare you pretend that this can be solved with just business as usual and some technical solutions? With today's emission levels, that remaining CO2 budget will be entirely gone within less than 8 1/2 years. There will not be any solutions or plans presented in line with these figures here today, because these numbers are too uncomfortable. And you are still not mature enough to tell it like it is. You are failing us. But young people are starting to understand your betrayal. The eyes of all future generations are upon you. And if you choose to fail us, I say: We will never forgive you. We will not let you get away with this. Right here, right now is where we draw the line. The world is waking up. And change is coming, whether you like it or not. Thank you.

He was playing games, got you dancing in the middle of the club. Got you dancing in the middle of the club.

Only those two lived: one who was to kill and one who was to be killed.

I like hearing myself talk. It is one of my greatest pleasures.

To realize one's destiny is a person's only obligation.

If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.

The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don't.

Pity is the feeling of well-intentioned people who are unable to act.

Human backpacks look a lot like monster backpacks, but if you open one up you can see that they are exactly as big on the inside as they seem from the outside, implying humans never quite mastered basic dimensional design theory.

You might find you're judging a family better than the judge.

When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance.

My father died when I was 6. You knew that, right? Yeah. He had Huntington's Disease. It's-- destroys portions of the brain, affects muscle control, leads to dementia. It's just a nasty disease. It's genetic. It terrified my mother that I might have it, so they ran tests on me when I was a kid, but I came up clean. My father fell very ill when I was 4 or 5. He spent a lot of time in the hospital. My-- My mother would tell me so many stories about my father. She would talk about him all the time. I knew about his personality, how he treated people. I even knew how he liked his steaks cooked-- medium rare. Just like you. I knew things about my father. I had a lot of information. It's because people would tell me these things. They would paint this picture of my father for me, and I always pretended that was who I saw, too, who I remembered, but it was a lie. In truth, I only have one real, actual memory of my father. It must've been right before he died. My mother would take me to the hospital to visit him, and I remember the smell in there, the chemicals. It was as if they use up every single cleaning product they could find in a 50-mile radius... like they didn't want you smelling the sick people. Oh, there was this stench of Lysol and bleach. You could just feel it coating your lungs. Anyway, there, lying on the bed, is my father. He's all-- He's all twisted up. And my mom, she puts me on her lap. She's sitting on the bed next to him so I can get a good look at him... but really he just scares me... and he's looking right at me... but I can't even be sure that he knows who I am. And your grandmother is talking, trying to be cheerful, you know, as she does, but the only thing I could remember is him breathing. Oh, th-- this-- this rattling sound, like if you were shaking an empty spray-paint can. Like there was nothing in him. Anyway... that is the only real memory that I have of my father. I don't want you to think of me the way I was last night. I don't want that to be the memory you have of me when I'm gone.

Life can get pretty crazy at times. It can be hectic, confusing, stressful, and that's on a good day. Life can be full of happiness and full of sadness. One moment you're on top of the world and nothing can go wrong. The next, it feels as if nothing will ever be right again. I guess it depends where you are right now on your ride through life whether you smile when you read this or fight back tears. No matter where you stand on the long path, right now, try very hard to smile, and be glad you're in the game.

Nobody can tell what is right and what is wrong, what is righteous and what is evil. Even if there is a god, and I had His teachings before me, I would think it through, and decide if that was right or wrong myself.

It pleased me to find out that their youth were being sent abroad.

When I almost drowned, I decided I would never again be weaker than water. So I became a lifeguard. On my first day of training, my instructor told me that there are going to be times when you see someone in trouble. You're going to want to rush in there and do whatever you can to save them. But you have to stop yourself. Because there are some people you can't save. Because those people will thrash and struggle and try to take you down with them.

The moon will never lie to anyone. Be like the moon. No one hates the moon or wants to kill it. The moon does not take antidepressants and never gets sent to prison. The moon never shot a guy in the face and ran away. The moon has been around a long time and has never tried to rip anyone off. The moon does not care who you want to touch or what color you are. The moon treats everyone the same. The moon never tries to get in on the guest list or use your name to impress others. Be like the moon. When others insult or belittle in an attempt to elevate themselves, the moon sits passively and watches, never lowering itself to anything that weak. The moon is beautiful and bright. It needs no makeup to look beautiful. The moon never shoves clouds out of its way so it can be seen. The moon needs not fame or money to be powerful. The moon never asks you to go to war to defend it. Be like the moon.

People worked without making any sound, as if they were dumb.

In the heat of the summer, you're so different from the rest.

You must know, sire, that my father was Mahmoud, the king of this country, the Black Isles, so called from the four little mountains which were once islands, while the capital was the place where now the great lake lies. My story will tell you how these changes came about.

So, I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you.

For thousands of years, thinkers, artists, authors, and my Aunt Carol, have struggled to define humankind's purpose. Is life's meaning a riddle that even can be answered? And if so, should we listen or cover our ears to avoid spoilers?

My motto is if you want to win the lottery you've got to make money to buy a ticket.

Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.

Since you are reading this, chances are you've installed this game on your computer already. If this is true, like many others, you have just participated in bringing about the end of the world.

He prays because he knows he doesn't control it. He's at the mercy of it.

Put it on ya. If we're moving too fast, we can slow up. Baby, this far from mediocre. You know the vibes, know the vibes.

Nature has made us intolerant to change, but fortunately, we have the capacity to change our nature.

You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.

The box is there for a reason. I like thinking inside of it; I feel safe in there.

It's clear from what you've told me that her mother is fond of you.

By choosing the right words, you can take an idea that's happening in your head and try to make an idea like it happen in someone else's. That's what's happening right now.

It's an old text. The verses are familiar to me, but I don't remember by whom they were written. The language is very old and intricate. The first verse starts by drawing a comparison between the world and a tangled rug. It says that the world is an unfortunate mess. Like a knot, the nature of its existence is the fact that the parts are locking each other, none able to spring free. Then as it goes on the world becomes a furry animal hide, I suppose... because now us living beings are like insects crawling in the fur. And then it's a fishing net, because the more we struggle and squirm, the more entangled we become. It says that only the limp body of the jellyfish cannot be captured in the net. So we should try to be like the jellyfish, because the jellyfish doesn't try. This was an eternal dilemma to them - they were burdened by great ambition, yet deeply convinced that striving in itself was an unforgivable vice. They tried very hard to be effortless. Perhaps that's what we were to them, someone to delegate that unrestrained effort to. I know I have tried very hard.

Our carriage was the only one on the road that night.

I have a first place ribbon in doing nothing... it's the same ribbon as last place.

I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up, which is a problem when you've already grown up.

All my life I want money and power, respect my mind or die from lead shower.

Yet her clever mother subdued people so they would bow down to her will.

Sometimes she would explain them to me just like a teacher.

Perhaps I'd been a slow developer, but I was well into my forties before I realized that you don't have to comply with a request just because it's reasonable or reasonably put. Age is the great dis-obliger. You can be yourself and say no.

As he leaned over to pick up the desk, he felt a hand jab roughly between his thighs and another hand grab his hair.

He that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom.

Risking your life and throwing it away may seem alike, but they are two totally different things. People who live at the brink of death never think of throwing their lives away.

Indeed I don't believe in astrology. How could anyone believe in it? It has never lit the way for progress in science and in learning. And it demands of us that we submit to its predictions. There is nothing else we can do except to throw it into the pig's slops bucket.

I could be brown, I could be blue, I could be violet sky I could be hurtful, I could be purple, I could be anything you like Gotta be green, gotta be mean, gotta be everything more Why don't you like me, why don't you like me? Walk out the door!

She would write and post letters for them to their relations.

'So if I'm not black enough and if I'm not white enough, then tell me, Tony, what am I?'

We also constantly give thanks to God for this, that when you received the word of God that you heard from us, you accepted it not as a human word but as what it really is, God's word, which is also at work in you believers. For you, brothers and sisters, became imitators of the churches of God in Christ Jesus that are in Judea, for you suffered the same things from your own compatriots as they did from the Jews, who killed both the Lord Jesus and the prophets, and drove us out; they displease God and oppose everyone by hindering us from speaking to the Gentiles so that they may be saved. Thus they have constantly been filling up the measure of their sins; but God's wrath had overtaken them at last.

They are rage, brutal, without mercy. But you. You will be worse. Rip and tear, until it is done.

It's not only your eardrums that register sound anymore - your very skin has become an organ of hearing. Looking for a whisper light and low, a god who's very, very silent. Nothing escapes you - a cockroach in the other room, a candy wrapper falling on dry grass, a drunk falling from a chair in a bar 20 metres away. In fact, you haven't heard the Col Do Ma Ma Daqua, but you *have* discovered that you have amazing hearing. It must be the only part of you the alcohol hasn't drowned out. Keep listening!

The people with ideas have no power and the people with power have no ideas.

If instead you are processing something that is textual in nature, such as program output, HTML, email content, or CSV or XML files, you'll probably want to use str and text-mode files.

I'm under absolutely no obligation to make sense to you.

Her blood-curdling snoring, with its gargling and squawking and its terrifying pauses is like the sound the devil might make if he were alternately relishing and strangling on a pound of human flesh.

Wayne seem less fatigued than detached; they have the really top player's way of shutting the whole neural net down for brief periods, staring at the space they took up, hooded in silence, removed, for a moment, from the connectedness of all events.

None of the other little boys in the room are awake; the bunk above yours sags dead, motionless; no one moves; no one else in the room feels the presence of something radically evil; none thrash or sit damply up; no one else cries out: whatever it is is not evil for them.

There is something I must do, there is something I must do. There is nothing you must do, there is nothing you must do.

Boris was excited by the thought of being so close to the higher powers as he felt himself to be at that moment. He was conscious that here he was in contact with the springs that set in motion the enormous movements of the mass of which in his regiment he felt himself a tiny, obedient, and insignificant atom.

I am coming to see that the sensation of the worst nightmares, a sensation that can be felt asleep or awake, is identical to those worst dreams' form itself:

Like most very large men, he's getting comfortable early with the fact that his place in the world is very small and his real impact on other persons even smaller - which is a big reason he can sometimes forget to finish his portion of a given substance, so interested does he become in the way he's already started to feel.

For thousands of years, thinkers, artists, authors, and my Aunt Carol, have struggled to define humankind's purpose. Is life's meaning a riddle that even can be answered? And if so, should we listen or cover our ears to avoid spoilers?

It's not only your eardrums that register sound anymore - your very skin has become an organ of hearing. Looking for a whisper light and low, a god who's very, very silent. Nothing escapes you - a cockroach in the other room, a candy wrapper falling on dry grass, a drunk falling from a chair in a bar 20 metres away. In fact, you haven't heard the Col Do Ma Ma Daqua, but you *have* discovered that you have amazing hearing. It must be the only part of you the alcohol hasn't drowned out. Keep listening!

Pity is the feeling of well-intentioned people who are unable to act.

Only those two lived: one who was to kill and one who was to be killed.

I could not yet hope for a really serious conversation with him.

It pleased me to find out that their youth were being sent abroad.

I got out of bed, studied it well, then turned it over.

Yet her clever mother subdued people so they would bow down to her will.

He stayed until he saw me enter the house before he left.

When my island was blanketed in the darkness of night, her land was lit with sunshine. When her country was embraced by the blackness of night, my island shone brightly under the equatorial sun.

Sometimes she would explain them to me just like a teacher.

The voice that came from her lips left an impression that I will remember for the rest of my life.

I've thought about it quite a lot: I don't yet really need to reveal who I am before the eyes of others.

I want to see what you do, whether you're indeed as manly as you say you are.

Not only was she such an efficient manager, but she could ride horses and could get more milk from her cows than any of the other workers.

I walked behind her like a child following after his mother.

People worked without making any sound, as if they were dumb.

Indeed I don't believe in astrology. How could anyone believe in it? It has never lit the way for progress in science and in learning. And it demands of us that we submit to its predictions. There is nothing else we can do except to throw it into the pig's slops bucket.

SEVEN TWENTY SEVEN, SEVEN TWENTY SEVEN, WHEN YOU SEE IT! WHEN YOU FUCKING SEE IT! SEVEN TWENTY SEVEN, SEVEN TWENTY SEVEN! When you fucking see it, when you fucking, see it! when you see it, when you see it, oh my god. When you see it, when you see it, when you see it.