After We Collided Quotes

The best thing about reading is to escape from your life, to be able to live hundreds or even thousands of different lives.

If you aren’t affected somehow, even in the slightest bit, you aren’t reading the right book.

Whatever our souls are made of his and mine are the same

You aren't some conquest of mine - you're everything to me! You're my breath, my pain, my heart, my life!

The best thing about reading is to escape from your life, to be able to live hundreds or even thousands of different lives.

Is love always like this? Is it always so passionate, yet so damn painful?

It's dark meets light; it's chaotic perfection; it's everything I fear, want, and need.

Sometimes you just have to choose to let things go, to move on.

The blond-haired girl in the long skirts who obsessively makes long to-do lists crept her way inside of me until, slowly, I fell for her so hard that I couldn't believe it.

What hurts the most? Rejection..

Just because he can't love you the way you want him to doesn't mean he doesn't love you with everything he has

I can't promise that I won't hurt you again, but I can swear that I will love you until the day that I die.

Tessa has an obsession with Target that I’ll never understand.

If you aren’t affected somehow, even in the slightest bit, you aren’t reading the right book.

No one is truly innocent in this world, no one. The people who believe themselves to be perfect are the worst ones of all.

I don't really care for fiction." "How can you not? The best thing about reading is to escape from your life, to be able to live hundreds or even thousands of different lives. Non-fiction doesn't have that power- it doesn't change you like fiction does." "Change you?" He raises his brow. "Yes, change you. If you aren't affected somehow, even in the slightest bit, you aren't reading the right book. I would like to think that every novel I've read has become a part of me, created who I am, in a sense.

De algún modo se ha convertido en el pegamento que mantenía mi vida en su sitio, y en su ausencia sólo me quedan las ruinas de lo que fue mi existencia.

It was safe, with all the lights off and no one around to point and stare. In the night it's easy to indulge. It was just the two of us—we didn't have to think about who we were or what this meant or where it was going. It was like an escape. It's easy to forget at this moment billions of people exist and far-off galaxies are being born and stars collide. Kissing is its own kind of collision, it produces its own planetarium of lights inside your head. For me, it was like seeing colors for the first time after living in a black-and-white world. A single person can be just as wide and vast and spellbinding as any sky full of stars. They can make you think the world stops and night can last forever.",

Sweetheart, happily ever after does exist, it’s just not what you think,” he said. “Happily ever after isn’t a solution to life’s problems or a guarantee that life will be easy; it’s a promise we make ourselves to always live our best lives, despite whatever circumstance comes our way. When we focus on joy in times of heartbreak, when we choose to laugh on the days it’s hard to smile, and when we count our blessings over our losses—that’s what a true happily ever after is all about. You don’t get there by being perfect; on the contrary, it’s our humanity that guides us. And that’s what fairy tales have been trying to teach us all along.

My grandmother used to tell me that cupcakes are good for the soul. If I need anything, it's something for my soul.

The best thing about reading is to escape from your life, to be able to live hundreds or even thousands of different lives

I take it she didn’t accept your apology?” “Who says I gave an apology, or a reason to need one?” “Because you’re you, and on top of that, you’re a man . . .” He salutes me and downs the rest of what’s in his glass. “We always have to apologize first. It’s the way it is.

I would like to think that every novel I've read has became a part of me, created who I am, in a sense.

Just because he can’t love you the way you want him to doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you with everything he has.

There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency

That's why we are so good for each other. Because we're terrible for each other.

Fiction is an escape from reality. it's a way you can live hundreds even thousands of lives.

La lectura es la mejor manera de escapar de las preocupaciones del día a día, de poder vivir cientos, incluso miles de vidas distintas. Lo que no es ficción no tiene ese poder, no te cambia del mismo modo que la ficción. —¿La ficción te cambia? —Sí, te cambia. Si no te afecta, aunque sólo sea un poco, es que no estás leyendo el libro adecuado.—...—. Me gusta pensar que todas las novelas que he leído hasta ahora ya forman parte de mí, que me han hecho como soy, en cierto sentido.

People don’t get married for the right reasons anymore, not that they ever did. In the past it was for status or money, and now it’s only to be sure you won’t be lonely and miserable—two things nearly every married person still feels anyway

La lectura es la mejor manera de escapar de las preocupaciones del día a día, de poder vivir cientos, incluso miles, de vidas distintas.

Ich habe gehört, je mehr man schreit und brüllt, desto wahrscheinlicher gewinnen sie. (Hardin zu Landon beim Hockey)

He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.

He said he wasn't going to let this go, but he did. He let it go, and he let me go.

Fudge it—let’s dance!

Most of the novels that I’ve read led me to believe quarrels come and go in the blink of an eye, a simple apology will bandage any problem and everything will be worked out within minutes. The novels lie. Maybe that’s why I’m so enamored with Wuthering Heights and Pride and Prejudice; both are incredibly romantic in their own way, but they reveal the truth behind blind love and promises of forever

Subrayaba frases en mis novelas que me recordaban a ti. ¿Quieres oír la primera? Era: «Bajó a la pista, evitando mirarla durante un buen rato, como si se tratara del sol; pero, aunque no la miraba, la veía, como sucede con el sol». Supe que te amaba mientras subrayaba a Tolstoy.

Es macht mich wahnsinnig, wie sie in ihrem Essen stochert. Am liebsten würde ich ihr die Kartoffeln gabelweise in den Mund schaufeln. Deshalb haben wir Probleme, weil ich Gewaltfantasien von Zwangsfütterung habe. (Hardin über Tessa)

You should travel and see everything you possibly can. A woman like you shouldn’t be kept in a box.

Thank you dining with me.

You aren’t one of those women who demands to pay half of the bill, are you?” he teases.

L'amour ne vient pas à bout de tout comme les romans essaient de le faire croire.

I know that no matter how much we fight, we will always find a way back to each other. Always.

But the worst feeling in the world is loving someone who doesn’t love you.

of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.

Is that so?” the Sea Witch asked. “And how exactly is that going to happen? After all, fairies can only use their magic to help others.” “Witch, please,” Mother Goose said. “We’re the ones who write the rules, and we can break them just as easily as you.

Happily ever after isn't a solution to life's problems or a guarantee that life will be easy; it's a promise we make ourselves to always live our best lives, despite whatever circumstance comes our way. You don't get there by being perfect; on the contrary, it's our humanity that guides us. And that's what fairy tales have been trying to teach us all along.

Sometimes it is better to be kept in the dark than to be blinded by the light.

chapter one hundred and one

After everything we have endured, I must cling to the belief that our stories will collide in the end. I need hope. And if I cannot hope in us, I shall lose hope in everything else.

It's not so easy to walk away from someone when he has made his way into every cell, when he has taken over every thought, and he has been responsible for the best and worst feelings I've ever had. no one, not even the doubting part of me, can make me feel bad for loving passionately and hoping desperately that I could have that great love that I've read about in novels.

She was one of those people that didn’t belong here with the rest of us. She was too good, you know? My family got to have more time with her than we deserved, and I wouldn’t change a thing,

La lectura es la mejor manera de escapar de las preocupaciones del día a día, de poder vivir cientos, incluso miles de vidas distintas. Lo que no es ficción no tiene ese poder, no te cambia del mismo modo que la ficción. Si no te afecta, aunque sea sólo un poco, es que no estás leyendo el libro adecuado.

I trust you," he said out loud after a while, whirling her so they didn't collide with another couple on the dance floor. "Even if we don't work out, I trust you to be careful with me. I'm a little more fragile than I look, I'm afraid.

She’s always there for me, Mum. She always forgives me, even when she shouldn’t. She always says the right thing. She calms me, but challenges me—she makes me want to be a better man. I know I’m a shitty person, I know that. I have done so much shit, but Tessa can’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone anymore, and I’ll never love anyone again—she is it for me. I know it. She’s my ultimate sin, Mum, and I’ll gladly be damned for her.

Just because he doesn't love you the way you want him to, it doesn't mean he doesn't love with everything he has.

Just because he can't love you the way you want him to, doesn't mean he doesn't love you with everything he has.

I don’t know if time will heal me or not. But I do know that if it doesn’t, I won’t survive.

She's more myself than I am, whatever our souls are made of. Hers and mine are the same." - Hardin Scott

If it was given the right type of attention and care, it could glow like these flowers, but be much stronger.” I stay silent as he brings his thumb to my cheek. “You deserve that type of attention. You deserve to be with someone who makes you glow, not who burns out your light.

Yeah. I guess we were both willing to do that, Gavin. I was ready to take that plunge and never look back. Never. I was ready to risk everything for you, to push away the overwhelming fear I had because I knew you and I are worth it. We fell in love in a second. I was barely able to blink, and you had my entire world upside-down. I was scared you weren’t… real. I was scared no one could be as magnetic as you are to me. It still scares me. You still scare me.” Pausing, Emily shook her head. “Then I saw Gina, and all my fears came back. My heart wanted to believe you, but my head wouldn’t allow it after I’d already taken that risk on us. I’m so sorry, Gavin. I don’t know what else to say other than I love you and need you with everything inside me

Happily ever after isn’t a solution to life’s problems or a guarantee that life will be easy; it’s a promise we make ourselves to always live our best lives, despite whatever circumstance comes our way. When we focus on joy in times of heartbreak, when we choose to laugh on the days it’s hard to smile, and when we count our blessings over our losses—that’s what a true happily ever after is all about.

The best thing about reading is to escape from your life, to be able to live hundreds or even thousands of different lives. Nonfiction doesn’t have that power—it doesn’t change you the way fiction does.

It was she made me acquainted with love. She went by the peaceful name of Ruth I think, but I can't say for certain. Perhaps the name was Edith. She had a hole between her legs, oh not the bunghole I had always imagined, but a slit, and in this I put, or rather she put, my so-called virile member, not without difficulty, and I toiled and moiled until I discharged or gave up trying or was begged by her to stop. A mug's game in my opinion and tiring on top of that, in the long run. But I lent myself to it with a good enough grace, knowing it was love, for she had told me so. She bent over the couch, because of her rheumatism, and in I went from behind. It was the only position she could bear, because of her lumbago. It seemed all right to me, for I had seen dogs, and I was astonished when she confided that you could go about it differently. I wonder what she meant exactly. Perhaps after all she put me in her rectum. A matter of complete indifference to me, I needn't tell you. But is it true love, in the rectum? That's what bothers me sometimes. Have I never known true love, after all? She too was an eminently flat woman and she moved with short stiff steps, leaning on an ebony stick. Perhaps she too was a man, yet another of them. But in that case surely our testicles would have collided, while we writhed. Perhaps she held hers tight in her hand, on purpose to avoid it. She favoured voluminous tempestuous shifts and petticoats and other undergarments whose names I forget. They welled up all frothing and swishing and then, congress achieved, broke over us in slow cascades. And all I could see was her taut yellow nape which every now and then I set my teeth in, forgetting I had none, such is the power of instinct. We met in a rubbish dump, unlike any other, and yet they are all alike, rubbish dumps. I don't know what she was doing there. I was limply poking about in the garbage saying probably, for at that age I must still have been capable of general ideas, This is life. She had no time to lose, I had nothing to lose, I would have made love with a goat, to know what love was. She had a dainty flat, no, not dainty, it made you want to lie down in a corner and never get up again. I liked it. It was full of dainty furniture, under our desperate strokes the couch moved forward on its castors, the whole place fell about our ears, it was pandemonium. Our commerce was not without tenderness, with trembling hands she cut my toe-nails and I rubbed her rump with winter cream. This idyll was of short duration. Poor Edith, I hastened her end perhaps. Anyway it was she who started it, in the rubbish dump, when she laid her hand upon my fly. More precisely, I was bent double over a heap of muck, in the hope of finding something to disgust me for ever with eating, when she, undertaking me from behind, thrust her stick between my legs and began to titillate my privates. She gave me money after each session, to me who would have consented to know love, and probe it to the bottom, without charge. But she was an idealist. I would have preferred it seems to me an orifice less arid and roomy, that would have given me a higher opinion of love it seems to me. However. Twixt finger and thumb tis heaven in comparison. But love is no doubt above such contingencies. And not when you are comfortable, but when your frantic member casts about for a rubbing-place, and the unction of a little mucous membrane, and meeting with none does not beat in retreat, but retains its tumefaction, it is then no doubt that true love comes to pass, and wings away, high above the tight fit and the loose.

out the windows of the shop in an attempt to spot Steph’s bright-ass hair. “We can go next door and find them?” Tessa suggests after I pay Drew and promise to come back and let him give me an entire back piece.

After that cancellation [of the Superconducting Super Collider in Texas, after $2 billion had been spent on it], we physicists learned that we have to sing for our supper. ... The Cold War is over. You can't simply say “Russia!” to Congress, and they whip out their checkbook and say, “How much?” We have to tell the people why this atom-smasher is going to benefit their lives.

We’re like dominoes, Beckett and I. I’ve tipped us forward until everything is set in motion. I can’t stop us from colliding. I should enjoy the fall while it lasts. But I know the end is coming too. The quiet. The day where everything has fallen and there’s nothing left but a mess.

Od čega god da su načinjene naše duše, moja je ista kao njegova.

Just because he can’t love you the way you want him to doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you with everything he has,” he says.

Que no pueda quererte como tú quieres que te quiera no significa que no te quiera con toda su alma

Harold?

I don't feel that way about my tattoos, though. I love them and I always will. I'll continue to cover my body in ink, expressing thoughts that I can't bring myself to actually say.

manage to make it to my car before breaking down again. The pain only seems to get worse when there are no distractions, when I’m left alone with my thoughts and memories.

Ken turns to me, then back to his son. “Whatever you did to her, I hope it was worth losing the only good thing you had going for you,” he says and then drops his head.

Landon looks at me with great sympathy in his eyes. “Just because he can’t love you the way you want him to doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you with everything he has,” he says.

No. I don't date." I smile at her, hoping she catches on to my joke. The relief I feel to find out that she hasn't been dating is beyond words, She smiling now, "I've heard that before.

The music helps a lot. To hear about other people’s pain reminds me that I’m not the only one to suffer in life. I’m not the only one who loved someone who didn’t love them enough to fight for them.

I need a distraction from ruminations; sometimes I wish I could just shut my mind off the way other people seem to be able to do. I don’t like that I overthink everything, but I can’t help it. It’s who I am,

So don’t you sit here and tell me that it’s been hard for you because you did this! You fucking ruined everything! Just like you always do, so you know what? I don’t feel sorry for you . . . Actually I do. I feel sorry for you because you will never be happy. You will be alone for the rest of your life, and for that I feel sorry for you. I’ll move on, find a nice man who’ll treat me the way you should have, and we’ll get married and have children. I will be happy.

I know I need to take it down a few notches. I need to give her a little space. This behavior and these feelings are so exhausting, so overwhelming to me, and I have no fucking idea how to deal with them. But I will figure this out—I have to fix all of this.

It confuses me even more. He does these incredibly kind things sometimes, but he does the most hurtful things at the same time.” He smiles and waggles the fork while he says, “Well, he does love you. Unfortunately, love doesn’t always go hand in hand with common sense.

I find it amusing, in a twisted way, that I can’t go a second without thinking of this girl, when up until three months ago I wanted to be alone. I never knew what I was missing, and now that I found it, I can’t let it go. It’s only her, though; no matter what I do, I can’t shake her.

I still stared at Daemon, completely aware that everyone else except him was watching me. Closely. But why wouldn’t he look at me? A razor-sharp panic clawed at my insides. No. This couldn’t be happening. No way.
 My body was moving before I even knew what I was doing. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dee shake her head and one of the Luxen males step forward, but I was propelled by an inherent need to prove that my worst fears were not coming true. After all, he’d healed me, but then I thought of what Dee had said, of how Dee had behaved with me. What if Daemon was like her? Turned into something so foreign and cold? He would’ve healed me just to make sure he was okay. I still didn’t stop.
 Please, I thought over and over again. Please. Please. Please. On shaky legs, I crossed the long room, and even though Daemon hadn’t seemed to even acknowledge my existence, I walked right up to him, my hands trembling as I placed them on his chest. “Daemon?” I whispered, voice thick. His head whipped around, and he was suddenly staring down at me. Our gazes collided once more, and for a second I saw something so raw, so painful in those beautiful eyes. And then his large hands wrapped around my upper arms. The contact seared through the shirt I wore, branding my skin, and I thought—I expected—that he would pull me against him, that he would embrace me, and even though nothing would be all right, it would be better. Daemon’s hands spasmed around my arms, and I sucked in an unsteady breath. His eyes flashed an intense green as he physically lifted me away from him, setting me back down a good foot back. I stared at him, something deep in my chest cracking. “Daemon?” He said nothing as he let go, one finger at a time, it seemed, and his hands slid off my arms. He stepped back, returning his attention to the man behind the desk. “So . . . awkward,” murmured the redhead, smirking. I was rooted to the spot in which I stood, the sting of rejection burning through my skin, shredding my insides like I was nothing more than papier-mâché. “I think someone was expecting more of a reunion,” the Luxen male behind the desk said, his voice ringing with amusement. “What do you think, Daemon?” One shoulder rose in a negligent shrug. “I don’t think anything.” My mouth opened, but there were no words. His voice, his tone, wasn’t like his sister’s, but like it had been when we first met. He used to speak to me with barely leashed annoyance, where a thin veil of tolerance dripped from every word. The rift in my chest deepened.
For the hundredth time since the Luxen arrived, Sergeant Dasher’s warning came back to me. What side would Daemon and his family stand on? A shudder worked its way down my spine. I wrapped my arms around myself, unable to truly process what had just happened. “And you?" the man asked. When no one answered, he tried again. “Katy?” I was forced to look at him, and I wanted to shrink back from his stare. “What?” I was beyond caring that my voice broke on that one word. The man smiled as he walked around the desk. My gaze flickered over to Daemon as he shifted, drawing the attention of the beautiful redhead. “Were you expecting a more personal greeting?” he asked. “Perhaps something more intimate?” I had no idea how to answer. I felt like I’d fallen into the rabbit hole, and warnings were firing off left and right. Something primal inside me recognized that I was surrounded by predators. Completely.

How can you say that when I’ve done this for her? I’ve kept myself away so that she can move on. I don’t deserve her, you told me that yourself, remember?” “I do, and I still mean it. But I also think she should be the one to decide what she deserves,” he says with a huff and gets out of my car.

There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.

The best thing about reading is to escape from your life, to be able to live hundreds or even thousands of different lives. Nonfiction doesn’t have that power—it doesn’t change you the way fiction does." “Change you?” He raises his brow. “Yes, change you. If you aren’t affected somehow, even in the slightest bit, you aren’t reading the right book.

I know how pathetic that is, but there’s no way I can be without him. No one will ever make me feel the way he does. No one will ever be him. He is it for me, just the way I am it for him. I shouldn’t have had him leave. I needed time to think and I should take more time, but I’m already wanting him back. Is love always like this? Is it always so passionate, yet so damn painful? I have no experience to compare this to.

Independence changed everything. Independence changed nothing. Eight years after the British left, we now had free government schools, running water and paved roads. But Jaipur still felt the same to me as it had ten years ago, the first time I stepped foot on its dusty soil. On the way to our first appointment of the morning, Malik and I nearly collided with a man carrying cement bags on his head when a bicycle cut between us. The cyclist, hugging a six-foot ladder under his arm, caused a horse carriage to sideswipe a pig, who ran squealing into a narrow alley. At one point, we stepped aside and waited for a raucous band of hijras to pass. The sari-clad, lipstick-wearing men were singing and dancing in front of a house to bless the birth of a baby boy. So accustomed were we to the odors of the city—cow dung, cooking fires, coconut hair oil, sandalwood incense and urine—that we barely noticed them.

The worst part of being okay is that, okay is far from happy. Okay is that gray space in the middle where you can wake up each day and carry on with your life, even laugh and smile often, but okay isn't joy. Okay isn't looking forward to each second of your day, and okay isn't getting the most out of life. Being okay is what most people settle for myself included, and we pretend that okay is fine, when we actually hate it and we spend majority of our time waiting to break out of just being okay.

Searching for Love in Everything We are so much like these rocks I think to myself One morning While passing a sea of black, gray, and white Pebbles All different shapes, sizes, colors They drift past one another On land or in oceans All while we collide, we crash Gracefully or without the intention of even finding one another Is it messy or beautiful? Our choice or fate? We all have a home We all have a story And perhaps we are found In the waves that rush Where over time we lose our sharp edges And the water All-knowing Smooths us out Reminding us to be gentle with ourselves Perhaps the boulders basking in the light On land carry similar knowledge And, like us Maybe they love watching the clouds in the day And even more the stars at night Maybe all of life ponders the change the earth makes as we constantly gain and lose sight As we try to follow a path to love this life There must be love to go around In all places In all things Isn’t all of it a greater message for the love present in this world? They were here before us And will remain long after Perhaps one day Long after Love will exist For and within Everything

On the pros list I have… well… I have the fact that I love him. That he makes me happy, makes me feel stronger, more confident. That he usually wants the best for me, unless, of course, he’s the one doing the damage in his reckless way… The way he laughs and smiles, the way he holds me, the way he kisses me, the way he hugs me, the way I can tell he is changing for me. I know my pros list is full of small things, especially compared to the large negatives, but the small things are the most important, right? I can’t decide if I’m completely insane for even thinking about forgiving him, or if I’m doing what love dictates. Which will guide me best in love—my feelings or my mind?

But now that I'm older, I realize life isn't a fairy tale. And no matter how much work you put into it, happily ever after doesn't exist." Of all the things his daughter had said so far, this concerned John the most. He took Alex by the hands, sat her at the kitchen table, and had a seat beside her. "Sweetheart, happily ever after does exist, it's just not what you think," he said. "Happily ever after isn't a solution to life's problems or a guarantee that life will be easy; it's a promise we make ourselves to always live our best lives, despite whatever circumstance comes our way. When we focus on joy in times of heartbreak, when we choose to laugh on the days it's hard to smile, and when we count our blessings over our losses - that's what a true happily ever after is all about. You don't get there by being perfect; on the contrary, it's our humanity that guides us. And that's what fairy tales have been trying to teach us all along." "But what about death?" Conner asked. "How do you keep living a happily ever after when you lose someone you love?" "Now you're troubled over something you can't control," John said. "The only power we have over death is how we choose to define it. Personally, when someone dies, I don't believe they cease to exist. The people we love the most will always be alive, thanks to the stories we tell and the memories we share. As long as we keep our loved ones in our hearts, their pulse will continue to beat through our own.

The big question in cosmology in the early 1960s was did the universe have a beginning? Many scientists were instinctively opposed to the idea, because they felt that a point of creation would be a place where science broke down. One would have to appeal to religion and the hand of God to determine how the universe would start off. This was clearly a fundamental question, and it was just what I needed to complete my PhD thesis. Roger Penrose had shown that once a dying star had contracted to a certain radius, there would inevitably be a singularity, that is a point where space and time came to an end. Surely, I thought, we already knew that nothing could prevent a massive cold star from collapsing under its own gravity until it reached a singularity of infinite density. I realised that similar arguments could be applied to the expansion of the universe. In this case, I could prove there were singularities where space–time had a beginning. A eureka moment came in 1970, a few days after the birth of my daughter, Lucy. While getting into bed one evening, which my disability made a slow process, I realised that I could apply to black holes the casual structure theory I had developed for singularity theorems. If general relativity is correct and the energy density is positive, the surface area of the event horizon—the boundary of a black hole—has the property that it always increases when additional matter or radiation falls into it. Moreover, if two black holes collide and merge to form a single black hole, the area of the event horizon around the resulting black hole is greater than the sum of the areas of the event horizons around the original black holes.

Have you every thrown one stone after another into a tranquil surface of water? The waves spread out in all directions. They collide with each other and all things that get in their way. In the same manner, this is the affect that thoughts have on our state of presence. The baseline (being present) is calm. ‘But, one thought after the other results in turbulence. What happens to a calm lake when you throw one stone after the other into it? The waves from each stone collide into each other without flowing their nature course. Similarly, the mind throws countless thoughts and feelings into our state of conscious living. ‘This is because we unconsciously attempt to focus on the majority of these passing thoughts. Hence, the torment of thought waves flood over the serenity of aware presence. Practice letting each thought flow without attaching anything to it. No labels, no judgement, and no anxiety.

My dearest Tessa, Like all our favorite stories there are happy and unhappy endings. I thought we had a chance for a happy one, but it was not meant to be. I love you with all of my heart, and that's exactly why I had to get as far away from you as possible. We're like an addiction to each other, with equal parts pleasure and pain. And as for the other night, that girl was one of my former conquests. I had to apologize for my past in order to have a future with you. But fate just seems to get in our way, so let's cut the bullshit. You're too damn good for me and I know it, and somewhere in the back of my mind I always knew we wouldn't last, and I think that you did too. I know this is going to be painful and first and it could take days or even more. But one of those days you're going to wake up and the sorrow will start to slip away, until we're nothing but a distant memory. Goodbye Tessa. ~ Hardin Scott

It’s not a serious project,” Laurence said as they crossed Castro Street. “Milton doesn’t think the human race will still be here in a hundred years, much less a few thousand. This is just his way of hedging his bets. Or assuaging his conscience.” “It’s gotten me three free trips to Greenland,” Isobel said. “Honestly, I think Milton’s opinions depend on how many interns he’s killed today.” She half-winked, to indicate this was a joke and Milton killed no interns. During the dinner, Isobel talked more about her career transition, from rockets to Milton’s Ten Percent Project. “I used to dream about rockets.” Isobel scooped a corn chip into the communal pico de gallo. “Every single night, for months and months. After we pulled the plug on Nimble Aerospace. I had these weird dreams that there was a rocket launch going up any minute, and we’d misplaced the final telemetry. Or we were sending up a rocket, and it looked beautiful and proud shooting up into the air, and then it collided with a jumbo jet. Or worst of all was the dreams where nothing went wrong, rockets just soared for hours, and I sat on the ground watching with tears in my eyes.

Alice's Cutie Code TM Version 2.1 - Colour Expansion Pack (aka Because this stuff won’t stop being confusing and my friends are mean edition) From Red to Green, with all the colours in between (wait, okay, that rhymes, but green to red makes more sense. Dang.) From Green to Red, with all the colours in between Friend Sampling Group: Fennie, Casey, Logan, Aisha and Jocelyn Green  Friends’ Reaction: Induces a minimum amount of warm and fuzzies. If you don’t say “aw”, you’re “dead inside”  My Reaction: Sort of agree with friends minus the “dead inside” but because that’s a really awful thing to say. Puppies are a good example. So is Walter Bishop. Green-Yellow  Friends’ Reaction: A noticeable step up from Green warm and fuzzies. Transitioning from cute to slightly attractive. Acceptable crush material. “Kissing.”  My Reaction: A good dance song. Inspirational nature photos. Stuff that makes me laugh. Pairing: Madison and Allen from splash Yellow  Friends’ Reaction: Something that makes you super happy but you don’t know why. “Really pretty, but not too pretty.” Acceptable dating material. People you’d want to “bang on sight.”  My Reaction: Love songs for sure! Cookies for some reason or a really good meal. Makes me feel like it’s possible to hold sunshine, I think. Character: Maxon from the selection series. Music: Carly Rae Jepsen Yellow-Orange  Friends’ Reaction: (When asked for non-sexual examples, no one had an answer. From an objective perspective, *pushes up glasses* this is the breaking point. Answers definitely skew toward romantic or sexual after this.)  My Reaction: Something that really gets me in my feels. Also art – oil paintings of landscapes in particular. (What is with me and scenery? Maybe I should take an art class) Character: Dean Winchester. Model: Liu Wren. Orange  Friends’ Reaction: “So pretty it makes you jealous. Or gay.”  “Definitely agree about the gay part. No homo, though. There’s just some really hot dudes out there.”(Feenie’s side-eye was so intense while the others were answering this part LOLOLOLOLOL.) A really good first date with someone you’d want to see again.  My Reaction: People I would consider very beautiful. A near-perfect season finale. I’ve also cried at this level, which was interesting. o Possible tie-in to romantic feels? Not sure yet. Orange-Red  Friends’ Reaction: “When lust and love collide.” “That Japanese saying ‘koi no yokan.’ It’s kind of like love at first sight but not really. You meet someone and you know you two have a future, like someday you’ll fall in love. Just not right now.” (<-- I like this answer best, yes.) “If I really, really like a girl and I’m interested in her as a person, guess. I’d be cool if she liked the same games as me so we could play together.”  My Reaction: Something that gives me chills or has that time-stopping factor. Lots of staring. An extremely well-decorated room. Singers who have really good voices and can hit and hold superb high notes, like Whitney Houston. Model: Jasmine Tooke. Paring: Abbie and Ichabod from Sleepy Hollow o Romantic thoughts? Someday my prince (or princess, because who am I kidding?) will come? Red (aka the most controversial code)  Friends’ Reaction: “Panty-dropping levels” (<-- wtf Casey???).  “Naked girls.” ”Ryan. And ripped dudes who like to cook topless.”  “K-pop and anime girls.” (<-- Dear. God. The whole table went silent after he said that. Jocelyn was SO UNCOMFORTABLE but tried to hide it OMG it was bad. Fennie literally tried to slap some sense into him.)  My Reaction: Uncontrollable staring. Urge to touch is strong, which I must fight because not everyone is cool with that. There may even be slack-jawed drooling involved. I think that’s what would happen. I’ve never seen or experienced anything that I would give Red to.

ASSOCIATIVE MEMORY In Proust's Swann's Way a sip of tea and a bite of a small scallopshaped cake known as a petite madeleine cause the narrator to find himself suddenly flooded with memories from his past. At first he is puzzled, but then, slowly, after much effort on his part, he remembers that his aunt used to give him tea and madeleines when he was a little boy, and it is this association that has stirred his memory. We have all had similar experiences—a whiff of a particular food being prepared, or a glimpse of some long-forgotten object—that suddenly evoke some scene out of our past. The holographic idea offers a further analogy for the associative tendencies of memory. This is illustrated by yet another kind of holographic recording technique. First, the light of a single laser beam is bounced off two objects simultaneously, say an easy chair and a smoking pipe. The light bounced off each object is then allowed to collide, and the resulting interference pattern is captured on film. Then, whenever the easy chair is illuminated with laser light and the light that reflects off the easy chair is passed through the film, a three-dimensional image of the pipe will appear. Conversely, whenever the same is done with the pipe, a hologram of the easy chair appears. So, if our brains function holographically, a similar process may be responsible for the way certain objects evoke specific memories from our past

In case you haven't noticed,rodeos are a serious business.Careless cowboys tend to break bones,or even their skulls,as hard as that may be to believe." She stared down at the hand holding her wrist. Despite his smile,she could feel the strength in his grip. If he wanted to,he could no doubt break her bone with a single snap. But she wasn't concerned with his strength,only with the heat his touch was generating. She felt the tingle of warmth all the way up her arm.It alarmed her more than she cared to admit. "My job is to minimize damage to anyone who is actually hurt." "I'm grateful." He sat up so his laughing blue eyes were even with hers. If possible,his were even bluer than the perfect Montana sky above them. "What do you think? Any damage from that fall?" Her instinct was to move back,but his fingers were still around her wrist,holding her close. "I'm beginning to wonder if you were actually tossed from that bull or deliberately fell." "I'd have to be a little bit crazy to deliberately fell." "I'd have to be a little bit crazy to deliberately jump from the back of a raging bull just to get your attention, wouldn't I?" "Yeah." She felt the pull of that magnetic smile that had so many of the local females lusting after Wyatt McCord. Now she knew why he'd gained such a reputation in such a short time. "I'm beginning to think maybe you are. In fact,more than a little.A whole lot crazy." "I figured it was the best possible way to get you to actually talk to me. You couldn't ignore me as long as there was even the slightest chance that I might be hurt." There was enough romance in her nature to feel flattered that he'd go to so much trouble to arrange to meet her. At least,she thought,it was original. And just dangerous enough to appeal to a certain wild-and-free spirit that dominated her own life. Then her practical side kicked in, and she felt an irrational sense of annoyance that he'd wasted so much of her time and energy on his weird idea of a joke. "Oh,brother." She scrambled to her feet and dusted off her backside. "Want me to do that for you?" She paused and shot him a look guaranteed to freeze most men. He merely kept that charming smile in place. "Mind if we start over?" He held out his hand. "Wyatt McCord." "I know who you are." "Okay.I'll handle both introductions. Nice to meet you,Marilee Trainor. Now that we have that out of the way,when do you get off work?" "Not until the last bull rider has finished." "Want to grab a bite to eat? When the last rider is done,of course." "Sorry.I'll be heading home." "Why,thanks for the invitation.I'd be happy to join you.We could take along some pizza from one of the vendors." She looked him up and down. "I go home alone." "Sorry to hear that." There was that grin again,doing strange things to her heart. "You're missing out on a really fun evening." "You have a high opinion of yourself, McCord." He chuckled.Without warning he touched a finger to her lips. "Trust me.I'd do my best to turn that pretty little frown into an even prettier smile." Marilee couldn't believe the feelings that collided along her spine. Splinters of fire and ice had her fighting to keep from shivering despite the broiling sun. Because she didn't trust her voice, she merely turned on her heel and walked away from him. It was harder to do than she'd expected. And though she kept her spine rigid and her head high, she swore she could feel the heat of that gaze burning right through her flesh. It sent one more furnace blast rushing through her system. A system already overheated by her encounter with the bold, brash,irritatingly charming Wyatt McCord.

One find in Western Australia turned up zircon crystals dated to 4.4 billion years ago, just a couple of hundred million years after the earth and the solar system formed. By analyzing their detailed composition, researchers have suggested that ancient conditions may have been far more agreeable than previously thought. Early earth may have been a relatively calm water world, with small landmasses dotting a surface mostly covered by ocean.15 That’s not to say that earth’s history didn’t have its moments of flaming drama. Roughly fifty to one hundred million years after its birth, earth likely collided with a Mars-sized planet called Theia, which would have vaporized the earth’s crust, obliterated Theia, and blown a cloud of dust and gas thousands of kilometers into space. In time, that cloud would have clumped up gravitationally to form the moon, one of the larger planetary satellites in the solar system and a nightly reminder of that violent encounter. Another reminder is provided by the seasons. We experience hot summers and cold winters because earth’s tilted axis affects the angle of incoming sunlight, with summer being a period of direct rays and winter being a period of oblique ones. The smashup with Theia is the likely cause of earth’s cant. And though less sensational than a planetary collision, both the earth and the moon endured periods of significant pummelings by smaller meteors. The moon’s lack of eroding winds and its static crust have preserved the scars but earth’s thrashing, less visible now, was just as severe. Some early impacts may have partially or even fully vaporized all water on earth’s surface. Despite that, the zircon archives provide evidence that within a few hundred million years of its formation, earth may have cooled sufficiently for atmospheric steam to rain down, fill the oceans, and yield a terrain not all that dissimilar from the earth we now know. At least, that’s one conclusion reached by reading the crystals.

You look beautiful,” my dad said as he walked over to me and offered his arm. His voice was quiet--even quieter than his normal quiet--and it broke, trailed off, died. I took his arm, and together we walked forward, toward the large wooden doors that led to the beautiful sanctuary where I’d been baptized as a young child just after our family joined the Episcopal church. Where I’d been confirmed by the bishop at the age of twelve. I’d worn a Black Watch plaid Gunne Sax dress that day. It had delicate ribbon trim and a lace-up tie in the back--a corset-style tie, which, I realized, foreshadowed the style of my wedding gown. I looked through the windows and down the aisle and could see myself kneeling there, the bishop’s wrinkled, weathered hands on my auburn hair. I shivered with emotion, feeling the sting in my nose…and the warm beginnings of nostalgia-driven tears. Biting my bottom lip, I stepped forward with my father. Connell had started walking down the aisle as the organist began playing “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.” I could close my eyes and hear the same music playing on the eight-track tape player in my mom’s Oldsmobile station wagon. Was it the London Symphony Orchestra or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir? I suddenly couldn’t remember. But that’s why I’d chosen it for the processional--not because it appeared on Modern Bride’s list of acceptable wedding processionals, but because it reminded me of childhood…of Bach…of home. I watched as Becky followed Connell, and then my sister, Betsy, her almost jet-black hair shining in the beautiful light of the church. I was so glad to have a sister. Ms. Altar Guild gently coaxed my father and me toward the door. “It’s time,” she whispered. My stomach fell. What was happening? Where was I? Who was I? At that very moment, my worlds were colliding--the old world with the new, the past life with the future. I felt my dad inhale deeply, and I followed his lead. He was nervous; I could feel it. I was nervous, too. As we took our place in the doorway, I squeezed his arm and whispered, “I love thee.” It was our little line. “I love thee, too,” he whispered back. And as I turned my head toward the front of the church, my eyes went straight to him--to Marlboro Man, who was standing dead ahead, looking straight at me.