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.

Maybe the worst part is how I end up worse off. Comments made, voices raised, my trauma triggered war scars.

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

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

The past is now part of my future, the present is well out of hand.

What are you fighting for? What do you hope to prove? And if by some stroke of Fate you prevail, what then? Do give it all some thought whilst you're out and about.

If you think anyone is sane you just don't know enough about them.

What is better, to be born good or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?

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

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.

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

You just keep on pushing my love over the borderline.

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

I'm afraid I can't explain myself, sir. Because I am not myself, you see?

It's just a stolen crown, shoot the tangents in my way, the mangled carcass trawl you sent to me, straight my way.

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

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

Of house-elves and children's tales, of love, loyalty, and innocence, Voldemort knows and understands nothing. Nothing. That they all have a power beyond his own, a power beyond the reach of any magic, is a truth he has never grasped.

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.

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

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.

One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.

Among the Sharrans dwelled the gnome Silouv Yali, whose talents for wizardry were known from Candlekeep to Sorcere. Under his tutelage, the Sharrans built the Great Forge, which could heat mithral with such vigour as to turn it to adamantine. With this astonishing metal, they could mould the finest blades and armour.

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

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

I am now going to say something that will astonish you. The first step in the re-creation of the European Family must be a partnership between France and Germany. In this way only can France recover the moral and cultural leadership of Europe. There can be no revival of Europe without a spiritually great France and a spiritually great Germany. The structure of the United States of Europe, if well and truly built, will be such as to make the material strength of a single state less important. Small nations will count as much as large ones and gain their honour by their contribution to the common cause. The ancient states and principalities of Germany, freely joined together for mutual convenience in a federal system, might take their individual places among the United States of Europe. I shall not try to make a detailed programme for hundreds of millions of people who want to be happy and free, prosperous and safe, who wish to enjoy the four freedoms of which the great President Roosevelt spoke and live in accordance with the principles embodied in the Atlantic Charter. If this is their wish, if this is the wish of the Europeans in so many lands, they have only to say so, and means can certainly be found, and machinery erected, to carry that wish to full fruition. But I must give you a warning. Time may be short. At present there is a breathing-space. The cannons have ceased firing. The fighting has stopped, but the dangers have not stopped. If we are to form the United States of Europe, or whatever name it may take, we must begin now. In these present days we dwell strangely and precariously under the shield, and I will even say protection, of the atomic bomb. The atomic bomb is still only in the hands of a state and nation which we know will never use it except in the cause of right and freedom. But it may well be that in a few years this awful agency of destruction will be widespread and the catastrophe following from its use by several warring nations will not only bring to an end all that we call civilisation but may possibly disintegrate the globe itself. I must now sum up the propositions which are before you. Our constant aim must be to build and fortify the strength of the United Nations Organization. Under and within that world concept we must re-create the European Family in a regional structure called, it may be, the United States of Europe. And the first practical step would be to form a Council of Europe. If at first all the States of Europe are not willing or able to join the Union, we must nevertheless proceed to assemble and combine those who will and those who can. The salvation of the common people of every race and of every land from war or servitude must be established on solid foundations and must be guarded by the readiness of all men and women to die rather than submit to tyranny. In all this urgent work, France and Germany must take the lead together. Great Britain, the British Commonwealth of Nations, mighty America and I trust Soviet Russia - for then indeed all would be well - must be the friends and sponsors of the new Europe and must champion its right to live and shine. Therefore, I say to you: let Europe arise!

The Harpers are a secret organisation whose main purpose is the preservation of all things good and right in the world. They outfox evil at every turn, with shrewd fighting or cunning political manoeuvre, and though they are not well organised (how could they be, with many members utterly ignorant of the identity of those they might claim as allies?), they are united in purpose and goal. One Harper agent deployed correctly in a conflict often achieves the same results as a loosed army.

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.

Paradise Vendors, Incorporated, was housed in what had formerly been an automobile repair shop, the dark ground floor of an otherwise unoccupied commercial building on Poydras Street. The garage doors were usually open, giving the passerby an acrid nostrilful of boiling hot dogs and mustard and also of cement soaked over many years by automobile lubricants and motor oils that had dripped and drained from Harmons and Hupmobiles. The powerful stench of Paradise Vendors, Incorporated, sometimes led the overwhelmed and perplexed stroller to glance through the open door into the darkness of the garage. There his eye fell upon a fleet of large tin hot dogs mounted on bicycle tires. It was hardly an imposing vehicular collection. Several of the mobile hot dogs were badly dented. One crumpled frankfurter lay on its side, its one wheel horizontally above it, a traffic fatality. Among the afternoon pedestrians who hurried past Paradise Vendors, Incorporated, one formidable figure waddled slowly along. It was Ignatius. Stopping before the narrow garage, he sniffed the fumes from Paradise with great sensory pleasure, the protruding hairs in his nostrils analyzing, cataloging, categorizing, and classifying the distinct odors of hot dog, mustard, and lubricant. Breathing deeply, he wondered whether he also detected the more delicate odor, the fragile scent of hot dog buns. He looked at the white-gloved hands of his Mickey Mouse wristwatch and noticed that he had eaten lunch only an hour before. Still the intriguing aromas were making him salivate actively. He stepped into the garage and looked around. In a corner an old man was boiling hot dogs in a large institutional pot whose size dwarfed the gas range upon which it rested.

'HOWL HOWL GARGLE HOWL gargle howl howl howl gargle howl gargle howl howl gargle gargle howl gargle gargle gargle howl slurrp uuuurgh should have a good time. Message repeats.

WHERE IS HE WHERE IS HE PROMISED LIFE ETERNAL LIFE GLORY RICHES WHERE IS HE

Late into the night I write and the pages of my notebook swell from all the words I've pressed onto them. It almost feels like the more I bruise the page the quicker something inside me heals.

My wife's mother is visiting, Father. And Tuesday night, she's cooking us a carp. It's a tasty fish, I've got nothing against it. But, because it's supposedly filled with impurities, she buys it live and for three days, it's been swimming... up and down... in my bathtub. Up and down... and I hate it. I can't stand the sight of it, moving its gills. Now, you're standing very close to me, Father; have you noticed? Yes. I haven't had a bath for three days. I can't go home until the carp is asleep because if I see it, swimming... I'll kill it.

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

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

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

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.

O, they have lived long on the alms-basket of words. I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word; for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus: thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon.

The people we love are the ones who hurt us the most, after all.

I walk this empty street, on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. When the city sleeps, and I'm the only one and I walk alone.

Wax on, right hand. Wax off, left hand. Wax on, wax off. Breathe in through nose, out the mouth.

Well, presently dey go back; dey say, "The ants 'ave gone." ... De ants 'aven't gone. Dey try to go in - de son, 'e goes in. De ants fight.'

Ender thrust his gun between his legs. "I can see fine," he said, and proceeded to flash the boys directly under him.

The planet has survived everything, in its time. It will certainly survive us.

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

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.

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.

Don't let fear stop you from doing the thing you love.

A book is a great cemetery in which, for the most part, the names upon the tombs are effaced.

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.

The human whose name is written in this note shall die.

My Darling Ciss We are down for our rest again and I have just received your welcome parcel & three letters & papers. You will scarcely believe it but nevertheless it is true we had an extraordinary Christmas on Xmas Eve the Germans who hold Xmas in great style started giving us songs and shouting little bits in English and of course we retaliated and on Xmas day the most funny thing happened, we noticed a white flag going up and then one German getting up on the trench and advanced towards us, and of course we began to do likewise as did more of the Germans and we began to exchange Xmas greetings and jokes, and all sorts they were giving us fags and drinks and a bit of small [?] and showing us photos of their wives and sweethearts and telling us they were fed up with this war, and wanting us to post letters for them as seemingly they are not allowed to write they were saying the Germans were in Warsaw and that the Russians were finished, but of course we listened to all and said nothing and before we parted for our trenches again we had agreed that we would not shoot at each other that day and we kept our word there wasn't a shot fired that day, but next day our artillery opened as did theirs and so bought to a close the most unheard in any proceedings I believe in the annals of history. They were Saxons it would have been a different take with the Prussians, of course this happened with the Regt in front of us. I couldn't say if this occurred all along the line but I don't think it would, so you will see we had not a bad Xmas at all but the funny thing is we are carrying on the same as usual looking for each others blood again. Well dearie it wasn't so bad as it had been in the trenches this time it was proper Xmas time frost and snow and the ground as hard as nails but of course it will just be the same as usual once the thaw sets in. You were asking me if the stockings would do to cover my knees or if we would be allowed to wear them. I don't know whether we are allowed or not but we use anything to keep ourselves warm some have drawers others long stockings and all of us boots and puttees, I assure you we don't look like the peaceful Highlanders you see at home, the stockings you sent are just the sort I wanted I can pull them up at night to keep the cold out. I got a shock when I saw the contents of the parcel "two puddings struck my eye" I had forgotten all about my favourite and am just dying to get them heated up to find out the taste again. Tell Jim Stall I have not come across the Wiltshire Regt again I think they have gone to some other position so might never see them at all. I had a letter from my Leith pal and he is still in hospital in Manchester and by reading his letter he seemingly never received [?]. I hear Frank Brookes is getting on all right but I couldn't tell you whether his leg is amputated or not, they know nothing about it here, only that he is getting on all right. Pte Grant and my other pal are still well, Grant's brother who was wounded over a month ago has joined us again and we make a lively school well Ciss here they are shouting for letters so must close Your loving Husband Jim PS love to all will write tomorrow.

I'm a half horse, half man! How could she ever understand? That I'm a half horse, half man I'm a half horse, half man That's what I am And so I told my love the truth And she was actually pretty cool With finding out that I'm a horse

A LONG, LONG TIME AGO... There lived a Civilization of great power. They built a city, and within that city they built a palace. They held sacred the secrets of the Holy Cross, and understood the planar nature of reality. They ventured to the far shore and sought power from the spaces between.

You sit around here and you spin your little webs and you think the whole world revolves around you and your money.

Well yeah, it's a death-trap, but a really powerful death trap. What, you suddenly care about safety now?

I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.

While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen, listen to him!" When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

We lost ourselves, lost our dream. In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good. We have to make it right.

It has come to my attention that some have lately called me a collaborator, as if such a term were shameful. I ask you, what greater endeavor exists than that of collaboration? In our current unparalleled enterprise, refusal to collaborate is simply a refusal to grow--an insistence on suicide, if you will. Did the lungfish refuse to breathe air? It did not. It crept forth boldly while its brethren remained in the blackest ocean abyss, with lidless eyes forever staring at the dark, ignorant and doomed despite their eternal vigilance. Would we model ourselves on the trilobite? Are all the accomplishments of humanity fated to be nothing more than a layer of broken plastic shards thinly strewn across a fossil bed, sandwiched between the Burgess shale and an eon's worth of mud? In order to be true to our nature, and our destiny, we must aspire to greater things. We have outgrown our cradle. It is futile to cry for mother's milk, when our true sustenance awaits us among the stars. And only the universal union that small minds call 'The Combine' can carry us there. Therefore I say, yes, I am a collaborator. We must all collaborate, willingly, eagerly, if we expect to reap the benefits of unification. And reap we shall.

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

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.

Let's talk goblinoids. Your standard goblin is well-armoured and conniving, and while not the best strategists, they are deadly in bigger groups. Hobgoblins are where the species get disciplined. Smarter, stronger, and as mean as a bag of hedgehogs, hobgoblins are natural leaders for their kin. Bugbears are as tough as ogres, only shrewder, and they can be unnervingly quiet when they want to. Avoid these sleuthy bruisers.

Wake up to reality! Nothing ever goes as planned in this world. The longer you live, the more you realize that in this reality only pain, suffering and futility exist.

The ascent to the highest story is by stairs, and at their side are water engines, by means of which persons, appointed expressly for the purpose, are continually employed in raising water from the Euphrates into the garden.

Why would she? She probably be the odd cookie In the plastic bag 'bout to get crushed by a building I've flushed out the feeling of me being the shit 'Cause I was leaving skid marks on everywhere I sit

Well, I can certainly see why we're trying to keep them alive. Who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?

Smoke more weed, Turtle. Seriously, smoke more weed.

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

It's an old conversation log. I seem to be in it, but I can't recall much. Let me read it to you: "1650.800 - PRIVATE Five Pebbles, Chasing Wind, Big Sis Moon, No Significant Harassment CW: this is in confidence, but apparently a pseudonym "Erratic Pulse" has appeared on a nearby Sliverist conversation with ideas about personal ascension. Someone here in our vicinity is trying to cross themselves out. FP: Where did you hear this? NSH: I wish them super good luck in that endeavor. How is it going to happen? Have the overseers gnaw through bedrock until their entire can crashes down in the void sea? BSM: Please be respectful when speaking of the Void Sea. Grey Wind, where did you hear this? CW: I really shouldn't say. He's going to attempt some sort of breeding program. Thought you might want to know. NSH: Haha with the slimers, lizards and etceteras? Surely the answer was in a lizard skull all along! CW: Well, he's not looking for the same thing as we anymore, he's changed his task, so who knows really. BSM: I will try to find him and talk to him. Please don't spread this around! NSH: Moon will go get them! Long live the inquisition!"

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

Xanthelasma palpebrarum is a benign condition characterized by the development of soft, semisolid, yellow papules or plaques containing cholesterol.

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

DON'T WRITE BACK THEY'LL PROBLY SIKOWANALIZE YOUR LETTER.

Only godless savages eschew the series comma. No sentence has ever been harmed by a series comma, and many a sentence has been improved by one.

But that is not the extraordinary - or rather disturbing - part. On the drow's death, a parasitic creature emerged from the corpse and attempted to escape. I managed to capture it, and have the host's cadaver here in my study. I've told no one of my fears. Nettie suspects, but knows better than to ask.

Everyone knows the best way to close a studio deal is to pull a quarter out of the president's ear.

In the great grand scheme of things, we're just tiny specks that will one day be forgotten. So, it doesn't matter what we did in the past, or how we'll be remembered. The only thing that matters is right now: this moment, this one spectacular moment we are sharing together.

If it is for the sake of preserving Ashina, I will seize any matter of heretical strength.

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.

I am proud to come to this city as the guest of your distinguished Mayor, who has symbolized throughout the world the fighting spirit of West Berlin. And I am proud to visit the Federal Republic with your distinguished Chancellor, who for so many years has committed Germany to democracy and freedom and progress and to come here in the company of my fellow American, General Clay, who has been in this city during its great moments of crisis and will come again if ever needed. Two thousand years ago the proudest boast was "civis Romanus sum." Today, in the world of freedom, the proudest boast is "Ich bin ein Berliner." I appreciate my interpreter translating my German! There are many people in the world who really don't understand, or say they don't, what is the great issue between the free world and the Communist world. Let them come to Berlin. There are some who say that communism is the wave of the future. Let them come to Berlin. And there are some who say in Europe and elsewhere we can work with the Communists. Let them come to Berlin. And there are even a few who say that it is true that communism is an evil system, but it permits us to make economic progress. Lass' sie nach Berlin kommen. Let them come to Berlin. Freedom has many difficulties and democracy is not perfect, but we have never had to put a wall up to keep our people in, to prevent them from leaving us. I want to say, on behalf of my countrymen, who live many miles away on the other side of the Atlantic, who are far distant from you, that they take the greatest pride that they have been able to share with you, even from a distance, the story of the last 18 years. I know of no town, no city, that has been besieged for 18 years that still lives with the vitality and the force, and the hope and the determination of the city of West Berlin. While the wall is the most obvious and vivid demonstration of the failures of the Communist system, for all the world to see, we take no satisfaction in it, for it is, as your Mayor has said, an offense not only against history but an offense against humanity, separating families, dividing husbands and wives and brothers and sisters, and dividing a people who wish to be joined together. What is true of this city is true of Germany -- real, lasting peace in Europe can never be assured as long as one German out of four is denied the elementary right of free men, and that is to make a free choice. In 18 years of peace and good faith, this generation of Germans has earned the right to be free, including the right to unite their families and their nation in lasting peace, with good will to all people. You live in a defended island of freedom, but your life is part of the main. So let me ask you as I close, to lift your eyes beyond the dangers of today, to the hopes of tomorrow, beyond the freedom merely of this city of Berlin, or your country of Germany, to the advance of freedom everywhere, beyond the wall to the day of peace with justice, beyond yourselves and ourselves to all mankind. Freedom is indivisible, and when one man is enslaved, all are not free. When all are free, then we can look forward to that day when this city will be joined as one and this country and this great Continent of Europe in a peaceful and hopeful globe. When that day finally comes, as it will, the people of West Berlin can take sober satisfaction in the fact that they were in the front lines for almost two decades. All free men, wherever they may live, are citizens of Berlin, and, therefore, as a free man, I take pride in the words "Ich bin ein Berliner."

I will investigate further before informing the others. Kagha will demand answers I don't yet have. I had better record any further findings in a separate volume and keep them upon my person, lest prying eyes jump to the wrong conclusions.

It looks like we might have made it. Yes, it looks like we've made it to the end.

YOU ARE NOTHING LIKE YOU-KNOW-WHO. HE'S NICER-SEEMING BUT HE'S STILL A SLUMBITCH INSIDE.

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!

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.

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.

Behold this empty husk of a land... Populated only by storms, ruins and abominations. It wasn't always thus. I was once the Count of 2 living blocks, esteemed by my peers. I had progeny! From within my vessel of flesh, I would perch upon this spot to observe the rising of the sun. Corporeal matters seem so distant now. Most have forgotten this place, but I remain. Perhaps I reminisce because I cannot go. Perhaps I cannot go because memory traps me here.

Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.

Life is pain! I wake up every morning in pain, I go to work in pain! You know how many times I wanted to just give up? How many times I thought about ending it?

When the Ashes are two, a flame alighteth. Thou'rt Ash, and fire befits thee, of course...

Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting - torrents of fire were shooting into the dark sky from their open, fanged mouths, fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. There was a silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground; a smooth-scaled green one, which was writhing and stamping with all its might; a red one with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air; and a gigantic black one, more lizard-like than the others, which was nearest to them.

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

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 believe we've reached the end of our journey. All that remains is to collapse the innumerable possibilities before us. Are you ready to learn what comes next?

Acute pyelonephritis will classically present as a triad of fever, flank pain, and nausea or vomiting, but not all symptoms have to be present.

And all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be.

Then no matter where you are, in a crowded restaurant or on some desolate street or even in the comforts of your own home, you'll watch yourself dismantle every assurance you ever lived by. You'll stand aside as a great complexity intrudes, tearing apart, piece by piece, all of your carefully conceived denials, whether deliberate or unconscious. And then for better or worse you'll turn, unable to resist, though try to resist you still will, fighting with everything you've got not to face the thing you most dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come before, the creature you truly are, the creature we all are, buried in the nameless black of a name. And then the nightmares will begin.

And he told us of his life in the land of submarines.

Karkaroff spat onto the ground at Dumbledore's feet. In one swift movement, Hagrid seized the front of Karkaroff's furs, lifted him into the air, and slammed him against a nearby tree.

A screaming comes across the sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now. It is too late. The Evacuation still proceeds, but it's all theater. There are no lights inside the cars. No light anywhere. Above him lift girders old as an iron queen, and glass somewhere far above that would let the light of day through. But it's night. He's afraid of the way the glass will fall-soon-it will be a spectacle: the fall of a crystal palace. But coming down in total blackout, without one glint of light, only great invisible crashing.

a person named "rob" and always said "anyone wanna race" and uses steno layount.. that he chete with people wich higher wpm then rob like xander, zak which is higher thn rob but rob cheat with xander with zak other plea ple like him rob does 300wpm and when he meets new people then he dose not cheat but gives advice that use steno loyout to get faster and plays with new poewpl as 60wpm with new people and when rob meets fast epeople then rob uses cheats but when he uses qwerty user then his speed is 60-90wpm but when he is steno user then i he is 90-150wpm blah blah blah blah who cares about rob , that is why i was asking that is rob alvie or not ? actually he is alive in nitrotype server not in typeracer server and he is banned in monektype server and yeah who cares about him and actually no one cares and i pinged him in nitrotype server and said hello tommytom but he said he is not rob but idk why he is lying somtiems he is lair actually yeah rob is true cheater that cheats with people and left without unknowing yeah tbh idk what rob is up to and what rob has dangerous plan and what rob is planining and he uses steno to defeat all people and that means he can be selfish sometimes and yeah he is good troll and he knows how to troll people and while idk how to troll people and there is lots of people who does troll , if you do not understand anyone of this letter words and sentence, my bad my accuracy is bad my sentence is also bad but who cares abour reading but i think no one is readin about this chat i think i think no one cares true yeah excatly my point is nothing else but keep typing yourself and other people and some poeple do typing for programming and chattting with AI , actaully i do chat with AI lot because i am introvert and some people have friends in offline, and they talk themselves btw, rob is banned in monkeytpe server due to be racist and not only usriing steno user. anyway rob is banned on monkeytypese server for being racist and he is banned on typeracer account tom12233 blah blah blah

flaneur on the other hand is very different. He hasn't missed a month since September 2020 and averages 1,790 races per month. The most John ever did in one month was 1,501. He's completed 67,985 races to date which is more than quadruple the number that John has, but still, his average monthly speed hasn't really changed since April 2021 when he got to 177 wpm. That's two and a half years of slogging his guts out for a neglible amount of improvement. He clearly loves typing, otherwise he wouldn't do it so much, and he's very good at it, but his typing far more than John, and although his monthly average speed might be 15 to 20 wpm higher than John's, it's been that way for a long time now and the gap isn't getting any wider, despite all the extra typing that he's doing. ==== This is a perfect example of the point of diminishing returns when applied to the amount of time spent practicing typing. As with many other activities in life, we encounter the point of diminishing returns far sooner than we'd like to admit. So yes, you need to be consistent with your practice, but you don't have to be a slave to it. Far from it.

La-la-la-lava ch-ch-ch-chicken Steve's Lava Chicken, yeah, it's tasty as hell Ooh, mamacita, now you're ringin' the bell Crispy and juicy, now you're havin' a snack Ooh, super spicy, it's a lava attack

You sit around here and you spin your little webs and you think the whole world revolves around you and your money.

What are you fighting for? What do you hope to prove? And if by some stroke of Fate you prevail, what then? Do give it all some thought whilst you're out and about.

This is your last chance. After this there is no turning back. You take the blue pill: the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill: you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. Remember, all I'm offering is the truth, nothing more.

Wake up to reality! Nothing ever goes as planned in this world. The longer you live, the more you realize that in this reality only pain, suffering and futility exist.

Along the shore the cloud waves break, The twin suns sink behind the lake, The shadows lengthen In Carcosa. Strange is the night where black stars rise, And strange moons circle through the skies, But stranger still is Lost Carcosa. Songs that the Hyades shall sing, Where flap the tatters of the King, Must die unheard in Dim Carcosa. Song of my soul, my voice is dead, Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed Shall dry and die in Lost Carcosa.

I pray God will curse the writer, as the writer has cursed the world with this beautiful, stupendous creation, terrible in its simplicity, irresistible in its truth--a world which now trembles before the King in Yellow.

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.

Only godless savages eschew the series comma. No sentence has ever been harmed by a series comma, and many a sentence has been improved by one.

Well yeah, it's a death-trap, but a really powerful death trap. What, you suddenly care about safety now?

My wife's mother is visiting, Father. And Tuesday night, she's cooking us a carp. It's a tasty fish, I've got nothing against it. But, because it's supposedly filled with impurities, she buys it live and for three days, it's been swimming... up and down... in my bathtub. Up and down... and I hate it. I can't stand the sight of it, moving its gills. Now, you're standing very close to me, Father; have you noticed? Yes. I haven't had a bath for three days. I can't go home until the carp is asleep because if I see it, swimming... I'll kill it.

We are not so very different, you and I. We both spend our lives looking for the weaknesses in one another's systems. Don't you think it's time to recognize that there is as little worth on your side as there is on mine?

Skill level Easy Equipment you will need for this technique Saucepan Egg cup (optional) Follow our quick video guide to how to soft boil or hard boil an egg. Start with eggs that are at room temperature to best predict the cooking time and minimise cracking. For a soft-boiled egg, lower the egg into gently boiling water with a slotted spoon. Allow 5 minutes for a runny egg, 6 minutes for jammy, 7 minutes for fudgy and 10 minutes for hard. The longer you boil the egg, the firmer it will be. If not serving right away, once cooked, plunge the hard-boiled egg into plenty of cold water for one minute. Drain and cover with more cold water. This will prevent the egg from over-cooking in its residual heat. Cracking the shell with the back of a spoon during cooling will also make the egg easier to peel. See also: How to fry an egg, How to poach an egg, How to poach eggs in advance, How to make scrambled eggs.

Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.

There is little evidence regarding Stalin's feelings toward his father, who died young. To all appearances, however, he felt genuine affection for his mother. His letter to her in her later years contain lines such as the following: "Hello Mama dear! How are you getting on, how are you feeling? I haven't had any letters from you in a long time - you must be upset with me, but what can I do? I'm really very busy."

"Hey! You ever coming back?" "You kidding? I am Queens Boulevard"

Instincts that can still betray us, a journey that leads to the sun. Soulless bent on destruction, a struggle between right and wrong. You take my place in the showdown, I'll observe with a pitiful eye. I'd humbly ask for forgiveness, a request well beyond you and I. Heart and soul, one will burn.

So this is permanence, love's shattered pride. What once was innocence, turned on its side. A cloud hangs over me, marks every move. Deep in the memory, what once was love. How I realized how I wanted time, put into perspective, tried so hard to find. Just for one moment, thought I'd found my way. Destiny unfolded, I watched it slip away!

Here are the young men, the weight on their shoulders. Here are the young men, well where have they been? We knocked on the doors of Hell's darker chamber. Pushed to the limit, we dragged ourselves in. Watched from the wings as the scenes were replaying, we saw ourselves now as we never had seen. Portrayal of the trauma and degeneration, the sorrows we suffered and never were free.

The warm-blooded controversy had raged for fifteen years, before a new perception of dinosaurs as quick-moving, active animals was accepted-but not without lasting animosities. At conventions, there were still colleagues who did not speak to one another.

Humans preferred their museums to be indoors. This initially seemed baffling to monsters (especially given the amount of dusting we avoid by keeping objects outside!). Experts have recently suggested that keeping objects indoors may have been part of Englandland's efforts to hide and store museums' collections of stolen property.

This one is just plain text. I will read it to you. "On regards of the (by spiritual splendor eternally graced) people of the Congregation of Never Dwindling Righteousness, we Wish to congratulate (o so thankfully) this Facility on its Loyal and Relished services, and to Offer our Hopes and Aspirations that the Fruitful and Mutually Satisfactory Cooperation may continue, for as long as the Stars stay fixed on their Celestial Spheres and/or the Cooperation continues to be Fruitful and Mutually Satisfactory." "It is with Honor I, Eight Suns-Countless Leaves, of the House of Six Wagons, Count of no living blocks, Counselor of 2, Duke of 1, Humble Secretary of the Congregation of Never Dwindling Righteousness, write this to You." "We hope that the Crops are healthy, and that the Productivity with which your Facility is Blessed, leads (as it often does) to further Prosperity. May Not as long as the Stars stay fixed on their Celestial Spheres Grey Hand, Impure Blood, Inheritable Corruption, Parasites, or malfunction settle in Your establishment." "Leaning on the Solid Foundation of our Long Running Fruitful and Mutually Satisfactory Cooperation, we will take the liberty of stating The Reason for this Message ~ we write to Warmly thank You for yet Another Timely and Appreciated delivery of your Product (Nectar) to our Community (Congregation of Never Dwindling Righteousness). Our humble Words can never Aspire to Describe our gratitude." "Sincerely..." And then the name and titles again. It's a confirmation to an automated farming plot that a shipment of beverages has arrived.

There is nothing to be afraid of, Mr. Morgan. Take a gamble that love exists and do a loving act.

A book is a great cemetery in which, for the most part, the names upon the tombs are effaced.

The planet has survived everything, in its time. It will certainly survive us.

I walk this empty street, on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. When the city sleeps, and I'm the only one and I walk alone.

Everyone knows the best way to close a studio deal is to pull a quarter out of the president's ear.

If you think anyone is sane you just don't know enough about them.

It is a strange thing, but when you are dreading something, and would give anything to slow down time, it has a disobliging habit of speeding up.

Mandrake, do you recall what Clemenceau once said about war? He said war was too important to be left to the generals. When he said that, 50 years ago, he might have been right. But today, war is too important to be left to politicians. They have neither the time, the training, nor the inclination for strategic thought.

Here the skeleton appeared in perfect order, except that the head and neck were bent back, toward the posterior.

Everything. Even assays for adrenal hormones and things like partial thromboplastin times. Every known medical test is possible.

From ashen cities, grey auras, behold her pale horses Framed by hell and veiled from heaven, this pandemonium Tears upon scorched dreams, pouring into chasms that seethe Tidings tolled, too late, drowning as the shadows unfold

Well, when Johnny was first starting out, he was signed to a personal services contract with this big bandleader. And as his career got better and better, he wanted to get out of it. But the bandleader wouldn't let him. Now, Johnny is my father's godson. So my father went to see this bandleader and offered him $10,000 to let Johnny go, but the bandleader said no. So the next day, my father went back, only this time with Luca Brasi. Within an hour, he had a signed release for a certified check of $1,000.

I went to the police, like a good American. These two boys were brought to trial. The judge sentenced them to three years in prison, and suspended the sentence.

Ignatius tossed money at the cashier and literally lunged into the Orpheum, waddling down the aisle toward the footlights. His timing had been perfect. The second feature was just beginning. The boy with the magnificent photographs was definitely a find. Ignatius wondered if he could blackmail him into watching the wagon every afternoon. The urchin had certainly responded to his mention of a friend on the police force. Ignatius snorted at the movie credits. All of the people involved in the film were equally unacceptable. A set designer, in particular, had appalled him too many times in the past. The heroine was even more offensive than she had been in the circus musical. In this film she was a bright young secretary whom an aged man of the world was trying to seduce. He flew her in a private jet to Bermuda and installed her in a suite. On their first night together she broke out in a rash just as the libertine was opening her bedroom door. "Filth!" Ignatius shouted, spewing wet popcorn over several rows. "How dare she pretend to be virgin. Look at her degenerate face. Rape her!" "They sure got some funny people at matinees," a lady with a shopping bag said to her companion. "Just take a look at him. He's got on a earring." Then there was a soft-focus love scene, and Ignatius began to lose control. He could feel the hysteria overtaking him. He tried to be silent, but he found that he couldn't. "They're photographing them through several thicknesses of cheesecloth," he spluttered. "Oh, my God. Who can imagine how wrinkled and loathsome those two really are? I think I'm getting nauseated. Can't someone in the projection booth turn off the electricity? Please!" He rattled his cutlass loudly against the side of his seat. An old usherette came down the aisle and tried to grab the cutlass from him, but Ignatius wrestled with her, and she slid to the carpet. She got up and hobbled away. The heroine, believing her honor to be in question, had a series of paranoid fantasies in which she was lying on a bed with her libertine. The bed was pulled through the streets and floated across a swimming pool at the resort hotel. "Good grief. Is this smut supposed to be comedy?" Ignatius demanded in the darkness. "I have not laughed once. My eyes can hardly believe this highly discolored garbage. That woman must be lashed until she drops. She is undermining our civilization. She is a Chinese Communist agent sent over to destroy us. Please! Someone with some decency get to the fuse box. Hundreds of people in this theater are being demoralized. If we're all lucky, the Orpheum may have forgotten to pay its electric bill." He wanted to stay for another showing, but he remembered the waif. Ignatius didn't want to ruin a good thing. He needed that boy. Weakly he climbed over the four empty popcorn boxes that had accumulated before his seat during the movie. He was completely enervated. His emotions were spent. Gasping, he staggered up the aisle and out onto the sunlit street. There, by the cab stand at the Roosevelt Hotel, George was keeping a surly watch over the wagon.

𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕. 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕒𝕕. 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕. 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕒𝕕. 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕. 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕒𝕕.

Paradise Vendors, Incorporated, was housed in what had formerly been an automobile repair shop, the dark ground floor of an otherwise unoccupied commercial building on Poydras Street. The garage doors were usually open, giving the passerby an acrid nostrilful of boiling hot dogs and mustard and also of cement soaked over many years by automobile lubricants and motor oils that had dripped and drained from Harmons and Hupmobiles. The powerful stench of Paradise Vendors, Incorporated, sometimes led the overwhelmed and perplexed stroller to glance through the open door into the darkness of the garage. There his eye fell upon a fleet of large tin hot dogs mounted on bicycle tires. It was hardly an imposing vehicular collection. Several of the mobile hot dogs were badly dented. One crumpled frankfurter lay on its side, its one wheel horizontally above it, a traffic fatality. Among the afternoon pedestrians who hurried past Paradise Vendors, Incorporated, one formidable figure waddled slowly along. It was Ignatius. Stopping before the narrow garage, he sniffed the fumes from Paradise with great sensory pleasure, the protruding hairs in his nostrils analyzing, cataloging, categorizing, and classifying the distinct odors of hot dog, mustard, and lubricant. Breathing deeply, he wondered whether he also detected the more delicate odor, the fragile scent of hot dog buns. He looked at the white-gloved hands of his Mickey Mouse wristwatch and noticed that he had eaten lunch only an hour before. Still the intriguing aromas were making him salivate actively. He stepped into the garage and looked around. In a corner an old man was boiling hot dogs in a large institutional pot whose size dwarfed the gas range upon which it rested.

And the wraith on the heart monitor looks pensively down at Gately from upside-down and asks does Gately remember the myriad thespian extras on for example his beloved 'Cheers!,' not the center-stage Sam and Carla and Nom, but the nameless patrons always at tables, filling out the bar's crowd, concessions to realism, always relegated to back- and foreground; and always having utterly silent conversations: their faces would animate and mouths move realistically, but without sound; only the name-stars at the bar itself could audibilize. The wraith says these fractional actors, human scenery, could be seen (but not heard) in most pieces of filmed entertainment. And Gately remembers them, the extras in all public scenes, especially like bar and restaurant scenes, or rather remembers how he doesn't quite remember them, how it never struck his addled mind as in fact surreal that their mouths moved but nothing emerged, and what a miserable fucking bottom-rung job that must be for an actor, to be sort of human furniture, figurants the wraith says they're called, these surreally mute background presences whose presence really revealed that the camera, like any eye, has a perceptual corner, a triage of who's important enough to be seen and heard v. just seen. A term from ballet, originally, figurant, the wraith explains. The wraith pushes his glasses up in the vaguely snivelling way of a kid that's just got slapped around on the playground and says he personally spent the vast bulk of his own former animate life as pretty much a figurant, furniture at the periphery of the very eyes closest to him, it turned out, and that it's one heck of a crummy way to try to live. Gately, whose increasing self-pity leaves little room or patience for anybody else's self-pity, tries to lift his left hand and wiggle his pinkie to indicate the world's smallest viola playing the theme from The Sorrow and the Pity, but even moving his left arm makes him almost faint. And either the wraith is saying or Gately is realizing that you can't appreciate the dramatic pathos of a figurant until you realize how completely trapped and encaged he is in his mute peripheral status, because like say for example if one of 'Cheers!' 's bar's figurants suddenly decided he couldn't take it any more and stood up and started shouting and gesturing around wildly in a bid for attention and nonperipheral status on the show, Gately realizes, all that would happen is that one of the audibilizing 'name' stars of the show would bolt over from stagecenter and apply restraints or the Heineken Maneuver or CPR, figuring the silent gesturing figurant was choking on a beer-nut or something, and that then the whole rest of that episode of 'Cheers!' would be about jokes about the name star's life-saving heroics, or else his fuck-up in applying the Heineken Maneuver to somebody who wasn't choking on a nut. No way for a figurant to win. No possible voice or focus for the encaged figurant.

A towel, [The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy] says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapors; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (such a mind-boggingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.

We choose to go to the Moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too.

And all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be.

Johannes Høsflot Klæbo var best blant herrene. Trønderen vant fire av syv renn i touren. Han var overlegen sammenlagt. Dermed tok Klæbo sin fjerde sammenlagtseier i Tour de Ski.

-THIR-YOLK-ABA-ABSENCE-OUTER-SHELL-O-GATE-CONTAIN LIGHT-EM-VESSEL-EM-EGG-EM-SEAL-THIR-WITHDRAW EXTERIOR-O-SEAL-WITHIN-DREAMER-INTWIXT-ATWIXT CONTAIN-LIGHT-THIR-DREAM-CH-ABA-UNGROWTH-CONTAIN-

We weep to believe where only dreams have witnessed beyond.

Wouldn't it be nice if we were older? Then we wouldn't have to wait so long. And wouldn't it be nice to live together In the kind of world where we belong?

There are many things that I would like to say to you but I don't know how.

a strange thought came to him: had Arthur seen that Clark was sleepwalking? Would this be in the letters to V.? Because he had been sleepwalking, Clark realized, moving half-asleep through the motions of his life for a while now, years; not specifically unhappy, but when had he last found real joy in his work? When was the last time he'd been truly moved by anything? When had he last felt awe or inspiration? He wished he could somehow go back and find the iPhone people whom he'd jostled on the sidewalk earlier, apologize to them-I'm sorry, I've just realized that I'm as minimally present in this world as you are, I had no right to judge

It's an old conversation log. I seem to be in it, but I can't recall much. Let me read it to you: "1650.800 - PRIVATE Five Pebbles, Chasing Wind, Big Sis Moon, No Significant Harassment CW: this is in confidence, but apparently a pseudonym "Erratic Pulse" has appeared on a nearby Sliverist conversation with ideas about personal ascension. Someone here in our vicinity is trying to cross themselves out. FP: Where did you hear this? NSH: I wish them super good luck in that endeavor. How is it going to happen? Have the overseers gnaw through bedrock until their entire can crashes down in the void sea? BSM: Please be respectful when speaking of the Void Sea. Grey Wind, where did you hear this? CW: I really shouldn't say. He's going to attempt some sort of breeding program. Thought you might want to know. NSH: Haha with the slimers, lizards and etceteras? Surely the answer was in a lizard skull all along! CW: Well, he's not looking for the same thing as we anymore, he's changed his task, so who knows really. BSM: I will try to find him and talk to him. Please don't spread this around! NSH: Moon will go get them! Long live the inquisition!"

The identification of glacial dispersal landforms and sedimentary deposits formed by fast-flowing glaciers was important to the earliest recognition of paleo-ice streams of the Laurentide Ice Sheet in the 1970s and 1980s. The spectacular continental-scale Dubawnt dispersal train in northern Canada was one of the first to be identified as the product of a high glacial flow rate. Subsequently, dispersal plumes of Paleozoic carbonate rocks imprinted on Precambrian Canadian Shield terrain in northern Canada were interpreted to be products of ice streams. The geomorphic imprint of ice streams over hard-bed, higher relief areas tends to be less obvious because of thinner till cover and an absence of diagnostic geomorphic features such as shear margin moraines. Despite the relatively thin till cover in some regions of the Canadian Shield, the extremely high concentrations of mineralized (exotic) debris within the till 10s of kilometres down-ice from their sources is quite remarkable. Typically, under normal ice-flow conditions in areas of hard-beds on the Canadian Shield, dispersal trains formed by erosive ice are diluted over relatively short distances (<5 km) down-ice. The long (10s of km) dispersal trains of till with distinct chemical and/or mineralogical compositions, coupled with obvious erosive/depositional corridors of streamlined landforms, provide a means of identifying hard-bedded ice streams elsewhere in northern Canada.

A LONG, LONG TIME AGO... There lived a Civilization of great power. They built a city, and within that city they built a palace. They held sacred the secrets of the Holy Cross, and understood the planar nature of reality. They ventured to the far shore and sought power from the spaces between.

As is usual, an alluring old power was discovered. Fossils of self, annealed visions of the future, entombed and cast into sarcophagi and buried. A lever in the canonical plane, a store of potential. Perhaps it is the fabled prize. The Power To Defy Death.

List of Things To Do: - Climb a tree - Have a truly exceptional sandwich - Spend a whole day reading - Visit Waterdeep - Get a massage - Swim in the Chionthar - Buy a new coat - Get a cat

I'm a half horse, half man! How could she ever understand? That I'm a half horse, half man I'm a half horse, half man That's what I am And so I told my love the truth And she was actually pretty cool With finding out that I'm a horse

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!

Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting - torrents of fire were shooting into the dark sky from their open, fanged mouths, fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. There was a silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground; a smooth-scaled green one, which was writhing and stamping with all its might; a red one with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air; and a gigantic black one, more lizard-like than the others, which was nearest to them.

In the great grand scheme of things, we're just tiny specks that will one day be forgotten. So, it doesn't matter what we did in the past, or how we'll be remembered. The only thing that matters is right now: this moment, this one spectacular moment we are sharing together.

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.

I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.

I follow the Moskva down to Gorky Park Listening to the wind of change An August summer night, soldiers passing by Listening to the wind of change The world is closing in And did you ever think That we could be so close like brothers? The future's in the air, I can feel it everywhere I'm blowing with the wind of change Take me to the magic of the moment On a glory night Where the children of tomorrow dream away (dream away) In the wind of change

Behold this empty husk of a land... Populated only by storms, ruins and abominations. It wasn't always thus. I was once the Count of 2 living blocks, esteemed by my peers. I had progeny! From within my vessel of flesh, I would perch upon this spot to observe the rising of the sun. Corporeal matters seem so distant now. Most have forgotten this place, but I remain. Perhaps I reminisce because I cannot go. Perhaps I cannot go because memory traps me here.

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

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

I am what I want you to want, what I want you to feel.

Acute pyelonephritis will classically present as a triad of fever, flank pain, and nausea or vomiting, but not all symptoms have to be present.

This type of epiphora may be seen in patients who have had no trauma or surgery or may be seen after a dacryocystorhinostomy has been performed.

Histologically, xanthogranulomatous pyelonephritis presents a granulomatous inflammatory infiltrate composed of neutrophils, lymphocytes, plasma cells, xanthomatous histiocytes, and multinucleated giant cells. The differential diagnosis includes clear cell renal cell carcinoma, papillary renal cell carcinoma, sarcomatoid renal cell carcinoma, leiomyosarcoma, malakoplakia, and megalocytic interstitial nephritis. Both antibiotics and surgery can be treatment options depending on the patient's disease status.

Conjunctivochalasis is the conjunctival laxity seen with exposure to the sun and thyroid disease.

Sergeant John Kinley: [to his wife] I'm lying in this bed. I kiss my children before they go to school. And he's hiding in a hole somewhere. A hole he can never get out of. A hole that we put him in. And that wasn't the deal.

During the eighteenth century, the word "continuous" as a description of a function was associated with being able to express it by a formula, and a function was "discontinuous" at a point where one had to switch formulas, like the point x = 0 for the absolute value.

Why would she? She probably be the odd cookie In the plastic bag 'bout to get crushed by a building I've flushed out the feeling of me being the shit 'Cause I was leaving skid marks on everywhere I sit

Can you feel that? Ah, shit Oh, ah, ah, ah, ah Oh, ah, ah, ah, ah oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh Drowning deep in my sea of loathing Broken your servant I kneel (Will you give in to me?) It seems what's left of my human side Is slowly changing in me (Will you give in to me?) Looking at my own reflection When suddenly it changes Violently it changes (oh no) There is no turning back now You've woken up the demon in me Get up, come on get down with the sickness Get up, come on get down with the sickness Get up, come on get down with the sickness Open up your hate, and let it flow into me Get up, come on get down with the sickness You mother get up come on get down with the sickness You fucker get up come on get down with the sickness Madness is the gift, that has been given to me I can see inside you, the sickness is rising Don't try to deny what you feel (Will you give in to me?) It seems that all that was good has died And is decaying in me (Will you give in to me?) It seems you're having some trouble In dealing with these changes Living with these changes (oh no) The world is a scary place Now that you've woken up the demon in me Get up, come on get down with the sickness Get up, come on get down with the sickness Get up, come on get down with the sickness Open up your hate, and let it flow into me Get up, come on get down with the sickness You mother get up come on get down with the sickness You fucker get up come on get down with the sickness Madness is the gift, that has been given to me No mommy, don't do it again Don't do it again I'll be a good boy I'll be a good boy, I promise No mommy don't hit me Why did you have to hit me like that, mommy? Don't do it, you're hurting me Why did you have to be such a bitch Why don't you Why don't you just fuck off and die Why can't you just fuck off and die Why can't you just leave here and die Never stick your hand in my face again bitch Fuck you I don't need this shit You stupid sadistic abusive fucking whore How would you like to see how it feels mommy Here it comes, get ready to die Oh, ah, ah, ah, ah Get up, come on get down with the sickness Get up, come on get down with the sickness Get up, come on get down with the sickness Open up your hate, and let it flow into me Get up, come on get down with the sickness You mother get up come on get down with the sickness You fucker get up come on get down with the sickness Madness has now come over me

Anfangs ist es nur einer, der "Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht" vor sich hin singt. Leise klingt die Weise von Christi Geburt, verloren schwebt sie in der toten Landschaft Flanderns. Doch dann brandet Gesang wie eine Welle übers Feld, "um Schulterwehr und Schulterwehr und von der ganzen langen dunklen Linie der Schützengräben klang es empor: "Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh'". Diesseits des Feldes, hundert Meter entfernt, in den Stellungen der Briten, bleibt es ruhig. Die deutschen Soldaten aber sind in Stimmung, Lied um Lied ertönt ein Konzert aus "Tausenden von Männerkehlen rechts und links", bis denn nach "Es ist ein Ros entsprungen" die Luft ausgeht. Als der letzte Ton verklungen ist, warten die drüben noch eine Minute, dann beginnen sie zu klatschen und "Good, old Fritz" zu rufen, und: "Encore, encore", "More, more". Zugabe, Zugabe. Die derart hoch gelobten Fritzens antworten mit "Merry Christmas, Englishmen" und "We not shoot, you not shoot", und was sie da rufen, das meinen sie ernst. Sie stellen auf den Spitzen ihrer Brustwehren, die fast einen Meter über den Rand der Gräben ragen, Kerzen auf und zünden sie an. Bald flackern die, aufgereihten Perlen gleich, durch die Finsternis. Wie das Rampenlicht eines Theaters habe es ausgesehen, wird ein englischer Soldat seinen Eltern schreiben, like the footlights of a theatre.

Ender did what he always did when Peter tormented him. He began to count doubles. One, two, four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two, sixty-four. And on, as high as he could hold the numbers in his head, 128, 256, 512, 1024, 2048, 4096, 8192, 16384, 32768, 65536, 131072, 262144. At 67108864 he began to be unsure--had he slipped out a digit? Should he be in the ten millions or the hundred millions or just the millions? He tried doubling again and lost it. 1342 something. 16? Or 17738? It was gone. Start over again. All the doubling he could hold. The pain was gone. The tears were gone. He would not cry.

"Remember, I'm a pacifist." "Yeah but think about it! Can't spell pacifist without fist, which you need to throw a punch! That always leads to fighting, the precursor to a full-out battle! Which is ultimately the first step on the inevitable road to war! Violence is unavoidable Doc, time to just admit you've got a natural born pacifist lust for murder!"

Magnus Carlsen og Jan <<Nepo>> Nepomnjasjtsjij tok en historisk avgjørelse i VM-finalen i lynsjakk. De bestemte seg for å dele gullet og tittelen som verdensmester.

ı couldve carrıed thıs shıt so hard but before every drake someone gets caught out we lost 4 DRAKES FOR NO REASON whıch we easıly could 5v5 and wın then they have chemtank soul fuckıng broken shıt ımpossıble to teamfıght whatever gg go next hope the enemy team ınts next tıme ınstead of mıne ı just keep playıng cracked out my mınd

Sigma sigma on the wall, who's the skibidiest of them all?

Let's return to the position after 5...b5, to consider other options for White: 1 e4 e5 2 Nf3 Nc6 3 Bc4 Nf6 4 Ng5 d5 5 exd5 b5!?

* Ford Perfect's original name is only pronouncible is an obscure Betelgeusian dialect, now virtually extinct since the Great Collapsing Hrung Disaster of Gal./Sid./Year 03758 which wiped out all the old Praxibetel communities on Betelgeuse Seven. Ford's father was the only man in the entire planet to survive the Great Collapse Hrung Disaster, by an extraordinary coincidence that he was never able satisfactorily to explain. The whole episode is shrouded in deep mystery: in fact no one ever knew what a Hrung was nor why it had chosen to collapse on Betelgeuse Seven particularly. Ford's father, magnanimously waving aside the clouds of suspicion that had inevitably settled around him, came to live on Betelgeuse Five where he both fathered and uncled Ford; in memory of his now dead race he christened him in the ancient Praxibetel tongue. Because Ford never learned to say his original name, his father eventually died of shame, which is still a terminal disease in some parts of the Galaxy. The other kids at school nicknamed him Ix, which in the language of Betelgeuse Five translates as 'boy who is not able satisfactorily to explain what a Hrung is, nor why it should choose to collapse on Betelgeuse Seven'.

it's a beautiful day outside. birds are singing, flowers are blooming... on days like these, kids like you... Should be burning in hell.

Yeah, boy Chiito, gifted, arawaza, wanted Kinki, kinjite, akiraka mouten Hansoku, ijigen, kono yo no mon de wa nai desu Muri gee, sore kiitenai tte Ay, raibaru kuchi wo soroete Wow, raibaru kuchi wo soroete Bagu de, magure, mitomenee zettee Maji de? Kore wo ma Zenbu namami de? It's namami, it's namami, yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah Bling-bang-bang, bling-bang-bang-born Bling-bang-bang, bling-bang-bang-born Jitsuryoku wo hakki shikiru mae ni Aite no hou ga bakkurete kurashii Agarikiru haadoru very happy Akiraka ni dantotsu de pikaichi Aika warazu dappi shiteru mainichi (Bling, bling, bling) Dare no nanahikari mo iranai omae no ice yori icy (Icy) Ore, patto mi dekinai koto bakkari da kedo very happy Aa, kireteru, akireteru mawari Megu mareteru kazoku tomodachi (Happy) Mou hansoku teki tachiichi, mina ore ni makase tokeba ii (Bang-bang-bang) Kyoukasho ni nai, mondaishuu ni nai Chou bad na majinai, listen Kagami yo kagami kotaechatte Who's the best? I'm the best! Oh yeah Namami no mama ikeru toko made To the next, to the ichiban ue Now singin' Bling-bang-bang, bling-bang-bang, bling-bang-bang-born (Now singin') Bling-bang-bang, bling-bang-bang, bling-bang-bang-born (Now singin') Bling-bang-bang, bling-bang-bang, bling-bang-bang-born To the next, to the ichiban ue Ey-day, ore no mama de iru dake de chou flex Ey-day, daremo kuchi wo hasamenai (Don't test) Ey-day, ore no mama de iru dake de chou flex Ey-day, daremo kuchi wo hasamasenai (Don't test)

The House of Representatives shall be composed of Members chosen every second Year by the People of the several States, and the Electors in each State shall have the Qualifications requisite for Electors of the most numerous Branch of the State Legislature. No Person shall be a Representative who shall not have attained to the Age of twenty five Years, and been seven Years a Citizen of the United States, and who shall not, when elected, be an Inhabitant of that State in which he shall be chosen. Representatives and direct Taxes shall be apportioned among the several States which may be included within this Union, according to their respective Numbers, which shall be determined by adding to the whole Number of free Persons, including those bound to Service for a Term of Years, and excluding Indians not taxed, three fifths of all other Persons. The actual Enumeration shall be made within three Years after the first Meeting of the Congress of the United States, and within every subsequent Term of ten Years, in such Manner as they shall by Law direct. The Number of Representatives shall not exceed one for every thirty Thousand, but each State shall have at Least one Representative; and until such enumeration shall be made, the State of New Hampshire shall be entitled to chuse three, Massachusetts eight, Rhode-Island and Providence Plantations one, Connecticut five, New-York six, New Jersey four, Pennsylvania eight, Delaware one, Maryland six, Virginia ten, North Carolina five, South Carolina five, and Georgia three. When vacancies happen in the Representation from any State, the Executive Authority thereof shall issue Writs of Election to fill such Vacancies. The House of Representatives shall chuse their Speaker and other Officers; and shall have the sole Power of Impeachment.

von Karma: The murder weapon... Where is Max's bust now!? Phoenix: It's obvious! The bust is inside this very courtroom! Judge: It's... O-O-Obvious...? Phoenix: Allow me to pinpoint the location of the bust once and for all! It's... Umm... Umm................. Judge: W-W-W-What!? Why you did you stop talking all of a sudden!? Phoenix: Well... I'm just not really sure if I should say anything or not because the bust is... Under Your Honor's bench!

One can't help thinking, Daddy, what a colourless life a man is forced to lead, when one reflects that chiffon and Venetian point and hand embroidery and Irish crochet are to him mere empty words. Whereas a woman- whether she is interested in babies or microbes or husbands or poetry or servants or parallelograms or gardens or Plato or bridge- is fundamentally and always interested in clothes.

You're right, actually. I am pretty- I'm, I'm pretty troubled and I'm, I'm pretty confused. But I... and I'm afraid. Really, really afraid. Really afraid. But I... I... I think you're the fucking Antichrist.

De meteorietenregen die het sportcomplex had geteisterd, was de volgende dag hét onderwerp van gesprek op school. Ondanks het feit dat er helemaal niets op het mond en nam al snel bizarre vormen aan, tot een paar simpele keien uit de ruimte getransformeerd waren tot Buitenaardse Wezens op het Honkbalveld. Ralphy Sherman beweerde zelfs dat hij er persoonlijk eentje gezien had.

Zonder telefoon is onze hedendaagse maatschappij volkomen ondenkbaar. Al maak je er zelf misschien niet zo veel gebruik van, er zijn diensten, die voor je werken en die er niet buiten kunnen. De telefoon stelt de mens in staat berichten van elke aard met de grootst mogelijke snelheid over te brengen. Als zodanig valt telefonie ook wel onder signalering, maar het is als het ware de ideale vorm wat betreft de snelheid en de toepassingsmogelijkheden. Behalve het feit, dat de berichten niet schriftelijk kunnen worden vastgelegd, heeft de telefoon alle voordelen t.o.v. andere vormen van signalering. Vele bedrijven kunnen beslist niet werken zonder de telefoon. Denk alleen maar eens aan een bedrijf als dat van de spoorwegen, waar men in staat moet zijn onmiddellijk berichten door te geven over een gewijzigde treinloop, enz. Bij kortere afstanden tussen de stations en grotere frequenties der treinen, m.a.w. bij locaal verkeer, zoals wij dat eigenlijk in ons kleine Nederland hebben, is zelfs de telegraaf in vele gevallen traag!

One summer evening (led by her) I found A little boat tied to a willow tree Within a rocky cove, its usual home. Straight I unloosed her chain, and stepping in Pushed from the shore. It was an act of stealth And troubled pleasure, nor without the voice Of mountain-echoes did my boat move on; Leaving behind her still, on either side, Small circles glittering idly in the moon, Until they melted all into one track Of sparkling light. But now, like one who rows, Proud of his skill, to reach a chosen point With an unswerving line, I fixed my view Upon the summit of a craggy ridge, The horizon's utmost boundary; far above Was nothing but the stars and the grey sky. She was an elfin pinnace; lustily I dipped my oars into the silent lake, And, as I rose upon the stroke, my boat Went heaving through the water like a swan; When, from behind that craggy steep till then The horizon's bound, a huge peak, black and huge, As if with voluntary power instinct, Upreared its head. I struck and struck again, And growing still in stature the grim shape Towered up between me and the stars, and still, For so it seemed, with purpose of its own And measured motion like a living thing, Strode after me. With trembling oars I turned, And through the silent water stole my way Back to the covert of the willow tree; There in her mooring-place I left my bark, - And through the meadows homeward went, in grave And serious mood; but after I had seen That spectacle, for many days, my brain Worked with a dim and undetermined sense Of unknown modes of being; o'er my thoughts There hung a darkness, call it solitude Or blank desertion. No familiar shapes Remained, no pleasant images of trees, Of sea or sky, no colours of green fields; But huge and mighty forms, that do not live Like living men, moved slowly through the mind By day, and were a trouble to my dreams

I was leaning over the apron of my hansom smoking a cigarette, and no doubt thinking myself no end of a man of the world, and suddenly there was the door, the wall, the dear sense of unforgettable and still attainable things. We clattered by - I too taken by surprise to stop my cab until we were past a corner. Then I had a queer moment, a double and divergent movement of my will: I tapped the little door in the roof of the cab, and brought my arm down to pull out my watch. "Yes, sir!" said the cabman, smartly. "Er - well - it's nothing," I tried. "My mistake! We haven't much time! Go on!" and he went on....

He leaned over the table to me, with an enormous sorrow in his voice as he spoke. 'Thrice I have had my chance - thrice! If ever that door offers itself to me again, I swore, I will go in out of this dust and heat, out of this dry glitter of vanity, out of these toilsome futilities. I will go and never return. This time I will stay... I swore it and when the time came - I didn't go. 'Three times in one year have I passed that door and failed to enter. Three times in the last year.