Ali Cross Quotes

Ali Bell doesn't play hide-and-seek," Lucas said. "She plays hide-and-pray-I-don't-find-you." Mackenzie smiled. "When Ali Bell gives you the finger, she's telling you how many seconds you have to live." Cole chuckled, saying, "Fear of spiders is arachnophobia, and fear of tight spaces is claustrophobia, but fear of Ali Bell is just called logic." "Oh, oh." Kat clapped excitedly. "There used to be a street named after Ali Bell, but it was changed because nobody crosses Ali Bell and lives. True story.

I don’t want to be work. I don’t want you to feel that I’m work.” “Somewhere along the way your wires got crossed. Your brain decided that you’re not worth people’s time and effort, and that if you ask for anything, they won’t just say no, they’ll also leave you. That’s not how love works, Elsie.

And it was always the stories that needed the telling that gave us the rope we could cross any river with. They balanced us high above any crevasse. They made us be natural acrobats. They made us brave. They met us well. They changed us. It was in their nature to.

Edges are magic, too; there's a kind of forbidden magic on the borders of things, always a ceremony of crossing over, even if we ignore it or are unaware of it.

We have become a Nazi monster in the eyes of the whole world—a nation of bullies and bastards who would rather kill than live peacefully. We are not just Whores for power and oil, but killer whores with hate and fear in our hearts. We are human scum, and that is how history will judge us. . . . No redeeming social value. Just whores. Get out of our way, or we’ll kill you. Well, shit on that dumbness. George W. Bush does not speak for me or my son or my mother or my friends or the people I respect in this world. We didn’t vote for these cheap, greedy little killers who speak for America today—and we will not vote for them again in 2002. Or 2004. Or ever. Who does vote for these dishonest shitheads? Who among us can be happy and proud of having all this innocent blood on our hands? Who are these swine? These flag-sucking half-wits who get fleeced and fooled by stupid little rich kids like George Bush? They are the same ones who wanted to have Muhammad Ali locked up for refusing to kill gooks. They speak for all that is cruel and stupid and vicious in the American character. They are the racists and hate mongers among us—they are the Ku Klux Klan. I piss down the throats of these Nazis. And I am too old to worry about whether they like it or not. Fuck them.

Nina sat down next to Alys. “Would you um … like some tea?” “With honey?” Alys asked. “I, uh … I think we have sugar?” “I only like tea with honey and lemon.” Nina looked like she might tell Alys exactly where she could put her honey and lemon, so Matthias said hurriedly, “How would you like a chocolate biscuit?” “Oh, I love chocolate!” Nina’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember saying you could give away my biscuits.” “It’s for a good cause,” Matthias said, retrieving the tin. He’d purchased the biscuits in the hope of getting Nina to eat more. “Besides, you’ve barely touched them.” “I’m saving them for later,” said Nina with a sniff. “And you should not cross me when it comes to sweets.” Jesper nodded. “She’s like a dessert-hoarding dragon.

What if . . . instead of saying, this border divides these places. We said, this border unites these places. This border holds together these two really interesting different places. What if we declared border crossings places where, listen, when you crossed them, you yourself became doubly possible.

He crossed the floor to start rifling through one of the supply chests, pulling free a small silver bottle and ripping open the top. "Is this liquor? Because I want to be completely intoxicated when Abba gets wind that his children are plotting a coup in a fucking closet." "That's weapons polish," Ali said quickly

Somewhere along the way your wires got crossed. Your brain decided that you’re not worth people’s time and effort, and that if you ask for anything, they won’t just say no, they’ll also leave you.” He says it matter-of-fact, like he’s Archimedes of Syracuse repeating his findings about upward buoyant forces to the acropolis for the tenth time. “That’s not how love works, Elsie. But don’t worry for now. I’ll show you.

I was through with sleep. I didn't like what it brought me.

I do have a heart, you see. I’ve got plenty of heart. I’m a fucking sentimental guy – once you get to know me. Show me a hurt puppy, or a long-distance telephone service commercial, or a film retrospective of Ali fights or Lou Gehrig’s last speech and I’ll weep real tears. I am a bastard, when crossed, though, no question.

It’s better to care too much than too little. Every single time.

Can we delay bloodshed for at least a few days? I didn't cross a cursed lake in a giant wooden bowl so I could be beheaded for treason before I had a chance to sample some royal cuisine." "That's not the punishment for treason," Ali murmured. "What's the punishment for treason then?" "Being trampled to death by a karkadann." Lubayd paled and this time, Ali knew it wasn't due to seasickness. "Oh," he choked out. "Don't you come from an inventive family?

Who does vote for these dishonest shitheads? Who among us can be happy and proud of having all this innocent blood on our hands? Who are these swine? These flag-sucking half-wits who get fleeced and fooled by stupid little rich kids like George Bush? They are the same ones who wanted to have Muhammad Ali locked up for refusing to kill gooks. They speak for all that is cruel and stupid and vicious in the American character. They are the racists and hate mongers among us -- they are the Ku Klux Klan. I piss down the throats of these Nazis. And I am too old to worry about whether they like it or not. Fuck them.

He is very dangerous. Do not cross him.” What every girl wants to hear ten feet from the altar, especially when the hard line of her groom’s shoulders already looks cross.

Misery Lark? No need to be careful. She’s not particularly dangerous, so feel free to cross her. What is she gonna do? Chuck her lint roller at you?

Misery Lark? No need to be careful. She’s not particularly dangerous, so feel free to cross her. What is she gonna do? Chuck her lint roller at you? I snort out a soft laugh, and that’s a mistake. Because my future husband hears it, and finally turns to me. My stomach drops. My step falters. The murmurs quiet.

Hypothesis: People who cross me will come to regret it.

BENEVOLENCE - When the sobbing of SELF PITY crosses over into the WEEPING FOR MANKIND

He laughed, the sound like boulders falling down a cliff face.

I LOVE YOU Don't just 'think' it. Say it before it's too late - The burden of regret is a heavy cross to bear

I watch him scratch his—big—neck, then cross his—wide—biceps on his—broad—chest.

Somewhere along the way your wires got crossed. Your brain decided that you are not worth people’ time and effort and if you ask for anything, they won’t just say no, they’ll also leave you.

What are you doing, Alys?" He'd turned to watch her, and his expression was disbelieving. She'd emerged from the winding staircase to stand in the open, but she hadn't yet been able to make her feet move further. "Facing my fears," she said in a wobbly voice. "Courting death?" "Are you going to kill me?" "The lightning might." "Are you you going to kill me?" she persisted, flinching when the thunder rumbled again. "Would you ride a horse for me?" he countered. "Yes." "Would you walk across this parapet to come to me?" "Yes." And shes started forward, shivering as the rain lashed down around them. She halted just out of reach, lifting her head and throwing back her shoulders with quiet determination. "Would you come to me?" she asked him. "Yes," he said. And he crossed the last few feet of the parapet and pulled her into his arms, kissing her mouth.

Many of the politicians in Delhi and Karachi, too, had once fought together against the British; they had social and family ties going back decades. They did not intend to militarize the border between them with pillboxes and rolls of barbed wire. They laughed at the suggestion that Punjabi farmers might one day need visas to cross from one end of the province to the other. Pakistan would be a secular, not an Islamic, state, its founder, Mohammad Ali Jinnah, promised: Hindus and Sikhs would be free to practice their faiths and would be treated equally under the law. India would be better off without two disgruntled corners of the subcontinent, its people were told, less

Because at the end of the day, your fresh-snow-white skin means that you get to walk around without having some white woman cross the street to get away from you, clutching her bag a little tighter because she thinks you’re going to rob her,

You lie, Elsie. Every single one of your interactions is a lie.” He crosses his arms and looms. We’re supposed to be on a tour of the department. I feel like he’s taking a tour of me. “Is this what you do with Greg, too? You code-switch a conjured, nonexistent persona he fell in love with?

From my travels across the imaginary map, I came to realise that there are two types of cities in the world. The first are those you cannot penetrate. Even when you’ve entered this type of city, you are always on the outside, constantly circling its walls. You are always at a distance, never crossing its threshold. The other type, meanwhile, you can never leave. Once you enter, you remain imprisoned there forever. Wherever you go, you are still there. You might combine it with other cities or make it part of bigger ones. You can add cities to it, like adding another layer to a cake, but you can’t get away.

I don’t want to be work. I don’t want you to feel that I’m work.” “Somewhere along the way your wires got crossed. Your brain decided that you’re not worth people’s time and effort, and that if you ask for anything, they won’t just say no, they’ll also leave you. That’s not how love works, Elsie..."That's not how love works, Elsie. But don't worry for now. I'll show you.

There is no way I’m going home with you! Have you lost your mind?” His face lit in understanding. “Ahhhh…okay. So this is the part where you have the snit fit.” He shifted on the bed, making a show of getting more comfortable. “Sorry. It’s been a while. I wasn’t prepared.” He crossed his thick arms over his chest and made a shooing motion with four fingers while holding his bicep. “Carry on. I didn’t mean to interrupt.

The social contract between citizen and state is breaking down in places where welfare schemes are accommodating large numbers of beneficiaries whose families have never contributed to the system. The original welfare state was predicated on a notion of reciprocity, but to newcomers it looks more like universal basic income. Welfare states are national, not universal. There must therefore be meaningful limits on what outsiders can claim based on the feat of having crossed a nation’s border.

I’d laughed when I’d seen Walter Benjamin’s name, because, much like my brother used to shout when we were kids in the back of the car and we were driving south, Ten points to the first person who can see the Forth Road Bridge, or my father when he was teaching me to drive, Ten points if you can hit that woman crossing the road, what you used to say when you’d make me come with you to those boring conferences was, Ten points to the first person who hears someone say the words Walter Benjamin.

George watches a dog cross the square through the noise and stop to sniff at something then amble off again as if nothing unusual is happening, so maybe something like this just happens here every week. Then, above the heads of everyone in the city, above the highest-tossed of the flags, church bells here and there announce midnight and as if they’ve been enchanted the next team after that to do a routine does it without drums and bugles but with its musicians humming instead, in tuneful voices and with a gentleness that seems sweet and absurd after the great din of the teams that have gone before. If only all ceremonials and pomp got hummed like that, her mother says.

Every time he moved, with every breath he took, it seemed the man was carried along by iridescent orange and black wings. She tried to convey how it was like travelling through the inside of a living body at times, the joints and folds of the earth, the liver-smooth flowstone, the helictites threading upward like synapses in search of a connection. She found it beautiful. Surely God would not have invented such a place as His spiritual gulag. It took Ali’s breath away. Sometimes, once men found out she was a nun, they would dare her in some way. What made Ike different was his abandon. He had a carelessness in his manner that was not reckless, but was full of risk. Winged. He was pursuing her, but not faster than she was pursuing him, and it made them like two ghosts circling. She ran her fingers along his back, and the bone and the muscle and hadal ink and scar tissue and the callouses from his pack straps astonished her. This was the body of a slave. Down from the Egypt, eye of the sun, in front of the Sinai, away from their skies like a sea inside out, their stars and planets spearing your soul, their cities like insects, all shell and mechanism, their blindness with eyes, their vertiginous plains and mind-crushing mountains. Down from the billions who had made the world in their own image. Their signature could be a thing of beauty. But it was a thing of death. Ali got one good look, then closed her eyes to the heat. In her mind, she imagined Ike sitting in the raft across from her wearing a vast grin while the pyre reflected off the lenses of his glacier glasses. That put a smile on her face. In death, he had become the light. There comes a time on every big mountain when you descend the snows and cross a border back to life. It is a first patch of green grass by the trail, or a waft of the forests far below, or the trickle of snowmelt braiding into a stream. Always before, whether he had been gone an hour or a week or much longer – and no matter how many mountains he had left behind – it was, for Ike, an instant that registered in his whole being. Ike was swept with a sense not of departure, but of advent. Not of survival. But of grace.

If you objectively look at life as a whole, it’s a daunting and impossible process. There are just far too many obstacles for one person alone to conquer. The world sucks. People are judged rather than accepted. Hate spreads far more easily than love. Power and money are valued more than morality. Insecurities are preyed upon rather than quelled.” His intense gaze never left mine when he asked, “Why would any of us want to live like that?” I didn’t have an answer for him because I sure as hell didn’t. And then he set his folder aside, leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and saved my life. “Because life isn’t lived as a whole. You aren’t given a hundred years all at once. Time is doled out one very manageable second at a time. Stop looking at the big picture and find happiness in the seconds.

In 2006, Egyptian bloggers witnessed hundreds of men thronging the streets to celebrate the end of Ramadan, harassing women with or without hijabs, ripping off their clothes, encircling them, and trying to assault them.48 Girls ran for cover in nearby restaurants, taxis, and cinemas. As protests continued in Tahrir Square in 2012, mob attacks against women became more organized. Men formed concentric rings around individual women, stripping and raping them.49 Some Egyptian women spoke out, taking their accounts and video evidence of sexual assaults to police, but little headway was made until laws against sexual harassment were introduced in 2014.50 The rape game crossed the Mediterranean in December 2015. During New Year’s Eve celebrations in Cologne, as we have seen, more than a thousand young men formed rings around individual women, sexually assaulting them.51 When the victims identified the perpetrators as looking “foreign,” “North African,” and “Arab,” they were pilloried as racists on social media.52 The local feminist and magazine editor Alice Schwarzer’s dogged reporting established that the young men had coordinated and planned the attacks that night “to the detriment of the Kufar [infidels].”53 Schwarzer was vindicated twelve months later, when Cologne police chief Jürgen Mathies confirmed that the attacks had been intentionally coordinated to intimidate the German population.

I am trying to stop being mystified. Important to concentrate on good hard facts. But which facts? One week before mu eighteenth birthday, on August 8th, did Pakistani troops in civilian clothing cross the cease-fire line in Kashmir and infiltrate the Indian sector, or did they not? In Delhi, Prime Minister Shastri announced “massive infiltration…to subvert the state:; but here is Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, Pakistan’s Foreign Minister, with his riposte: “We categorically deny any involvement in the rising against tyranny by the indigenous people of Kashmir”.

What did I do, to bring this on myself ? Just tell me what I did, where I stepped, who I crossed… Something.’ ... ‘There’s no why. No how. Things happen, and all we can do is try to live with them.’ ‘How am I supposed to live with a body made of glass? I can’t accept it.’ ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said softly, ‘what you accept and what you don’t. The glass is there regardless.

Ordinary love ages and dies quickly, but two beings with infinite imagination who feel they have long been travelling separate roads that were destined eventually to cross, two people each carrying a vast amount of pain as well as creative gifts they want to share with one another … these two immerse themselves in an endless sea that only death can interrupt.

To administer the ongoing rapid cycling process, Gilfoy created a small office led by Seema Dhanoa, the “director for simplicity.” This manager led a three-person team that included a senior consultant, Christina Fai, whose job it was to be a key facilitator and coach others at Vancity to lead the methodology, and a consultant, Ali Anderson, to coordinate workshops, capture ideas, manage the details, and work on the implementation of the rapid cycles. Rather than staff the team with permanent employees who again would come to “own” simplicity, she rotated employees in and out of the team on temporary assignments to facilitate workshops. Team members were volunteers selected on the basis of their cross-organizational experience, ability to facilitate discussions, ability to learn new processes, and overall curiosity. As they left and went on to other assignments, they would take their simplification experiences with them, helping to build a simplification mindset, competency, and culture within the organization.

I thank God for you every single day of my life, Alex, and I thank him for letting me raise you, and see you turn into the man you did. But I want you to think about why you came to me in the first place, what was going on between your poor parents before they died. Simply put, Jannie and Damon and Ali deserve better than you had. ...Don't make them orphans, Alex.

(Bacon. Pig. Cops are pigs. Get it? Freaking hilarious, no?)

Yoda wasn’t wrong when he said, “There is no try, only do.

An active imagination is a wonderful thing. But it can also be a burden, if you focus too much on the dark side of the street.

Alis looked me over from head to toe. 'You think a bit of rope snapping in my face will keep me from breaking your bones?' My blood went cold. 'You think that will do anything against one of us?' I might have kept apologising were it not for the sneer she gave me. I crossed my arms. 'It was a warning bell to give me time to run. Not a trap.' She seemed poised to spit on me, but then her sharp brown eyes narrowed. 'You can outrun us, either, girl.' 'I know,' I said, my heart calming at last. 'But at least I wouldn't face my death unaware.' Alis barked out a laugh. 'My master gave his word that you could live here- live, not die. We will obey.

Eddie

Miles’s pause had lasted just a little too long. Genially taking his turn to fill it, Illyan turned to Ekaterin. “Speaking of weddings, Madame Vorsoisson, how long has Miles been courting you? Have you awarded him a date yet? Personally, I think you ought to string him along and make him work for it.” A chill flush plunged to the pit of Miles’s stomach. Alys bit her lip. Even Galeni winced. Olivia looked up in confusion. “I thought we weren’t supposed to mention that yet.” Kou, next to her, muttered, “Hush, lovie.” Lord Dono, with malicious Vorrutyer innocence, turned to her and inquired, “What weren’t we supposed to mention?” “Oh, but if Captain Illyan said it, it must be all right,” Olivia concluded. Captain Illyan had his brains blown out last year, thought Miles. He is not all right. All right is precisely what he is not . . . Her gaze crossed Miles’s. “Or maybe . . .” Not, Miles finished silently for her. Ekaterin

now,” Ali said. “I won’t be able to talk to her about any of this until after school is over for the day.” “Don’t,” Stu advised. “Let me get a little better handle on what’s going on before you discuss it with her. In fact, don’t discuss it with her at all. Once we have her thumbprint she’ll have access to all her grandmother’s financial dealings and so will we without anyone crossing over into forbidden territory.” Hacking into unauthorized servers was something Stu Ramey did very well, but there were always risks involved, and hacking into financial accounts when it wasn’t necessary was stupid.

I want to stay with you.” Like it was that easy. Like it was just a choice they both had to make. Like they could choose to do this together and the world would change with them. His dark eyes lit up as if she’d given him the moon. His hands closed tighter around her waist, drawing her closer and closer to him until he pulled off her mouth piece and kissed her. And oh, it didn’t matter then. Nothing mattered because he was kissing her, she was in his arms, and the ridiculous decision she had just made was for the both of them. Not just for herself. A small prick at the side of her neck distracted her for a split second before his tongue swept into her mouth. Then nothing mattered. Because he had coaxed her to follow him, trailing her own tongue along the sharp points of his deadly teeth. He showed her again how deadly he was, how dangerous, and yet how gently he would treat her for the rest of her days if she trusted him. Gods, she could love this undine. She could dedicate her entire life to making him happy just to feel the plush press of his lips to hers. “I adore you,” he said, his words eerily close to what she had just been thinking. “I want to keep you, Alys. I’ve wanted to keep you from the first moment I saw you. You are... everything. You know that, don’t you?” “Sure,” she breathed against his lips. “I don’t know if I’ll ever believe that, but I want you. I want to stay. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, even if that’s an insane thing to say.

Alys meant something to him. More than anyone else had ever meant, if he was being honest. She made his soul feel like he mattered. Like there was someone out there who saw him as more than just a potential mate. As more than someone who could bring life into this world. “What?” Virago finally asked. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. You think that... that achromo is your mate?” “I don’t think she is my mate.” He watched his sister deflate with relief, knowing that he was about to bring that tension back. “I know that she is. I choose her above all others, Virago. She is the one that the sea has sent for me.” “A soul bond?” his sister scoffed. “It is impossible with their kind. You have no idea what they are doing underneath the water. You haven’t been going out on the scouting missions with the others. You haven’t seen the madness they bring to our waters.” “I don’t need to see anything to know how she makes me feel.” He pressed a clawed hand to his chest, trying to convey how serious he was. “She sees me, sister. She makes me feel brave. When I speak, she laughs at what I say. She takes the gifts I give her and treats them like they are treasures that I stole from the gods themselves. And when she lies against my chest...” He tapped twice over each heart. “I feel that I am whole.

It looks like a storm is coming.” “There are always storms, Alys.” “This one looks worse than normal,” she whispered, before turning her tear filled gaze to him. “I’m so sorry, Imber.” “Why are you apologizing?” “Because I’ve only been down here a few days with you and I’m already breaking apart. I’m in pieces. I thought we could...” Imber let out a little grumble before drawing her closer. He pressed their foreheads together, above the sea. The waves caressed her cheeks, and the air made her shiver, even though he lent her some small amount of warmth. Gently, he pulled the cord out of her neck and held onto the back of her head with a fierce grip. “You and I were meant for each other, my wave song. That doesn’t mean this will be easy, or that we will not have to fight for each other. But we will be fine, Alys. You and I are more than the sea and the sky. Will we fight through this, just as we have fought through everything. Now, tell me what you need.” She didn’t want to tell him what she needed because it meant they would be parted. She didn’t know if they would ever see each other again if she did what she knew had to be done. “I need to go back,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the words. “I’m so sorry.

Alys came down the stairs and filled the room like a ray of sunshine. Her golden hair had been washed and brushed, and he could see it was just as beautiful as it had been when he’d first seen her. Those locks were shiny and smooth, falling around her head in a cascade of golden curls like a waterfall. Her skin was nearly back to normal, although there were still a few red lines at her joints that clearly hadn’t healed just yet. But the dark circles under her lovely eyes were gone, and the bright expression on her face was full of life. Just as he would always remember her. Because this was how she looked the first time he’d met her, and it was that first glimpse that had filled his soul with sunlight. She was so beautiful that it was hard to breathe when he looked at her. And her? She bolted toward the glass the moment she saw him. Ran for him, moving faster than he’d realized her kind could until she was right there. So close he could have touched her if there wasn’t a barrier between them. Just like the first time they’d seen each other, she lifted her hand and pressed it against the glass. So he mirrored her, wishing he could actually touch her. He wanted to hold her and make sure that she was still really alive. He wanted to feel her against his chest, to know without a doubt, she wasn’t broken. She wasn’t still injured.

She didn’t even think it might be another undine. She knew Imber. And her soul knew him, too. The moment there was enough space for him to slip into the room, he was there. His dark head cresting the water and a wicked grin on his face that made every fiber of her being light on fire. He stayed there, floating in the water with his hair plastered against his head, looking like a sea god waiting for her. That grin never budged, and his eyes never moved from her. “Alys,” he said, that deep voice sending shivers down her spine. “You finally came home.” With an ear-piercing shriek, she launched herself into the water. Right into his waiting arms. His laughter echoed through her room, but she didn’t want to hear him laughing. She wanted to kiss him. So she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and did just that. She kissed him with all the desire and waiting that she’d felt for months. It had been such a long time since she’d seen him, and it didn’t matter if he had found someone else or he’d moved on from her. She didn’t want to know.

I’m glad to hear it. I cannot leave this ship as often as I’d like, but I can visit with you. Visit them, if they’ll have me.” “I think they’re happy on their own, love.” His eyes seemed a little distant, sadness bleeding into his gaze before he shook it free. “It would be best if it was just you and I.” Though it made her sad, she understood. The undines had their own way of life and her people hadn’t made that way of life any easier. It was hard, but it was the right choice. Nodding, she toyed with the ends of his hair. “Will that make you happy? I don’t want to isolate you.” “Oh, you are my love, my mate, my everything,” he breathed. “I would not survive being parted from you again, Alys. Not even in death.” When she drew him in for another kiss, Alys knew that maybe he was right. Maybe they were meant to be together forever. It certainly felt that way. But no matter what, their life would always be an adventure. And there was no one she would rather adventure with than him.

I want you,” she moaned against his lips. “I don’t care how or why this has happened. I want you.” And maybe, just maybe, he wanted her as much as she did him. Like she’d unleashed a shark, he descended upon her. She only had a few moments to realize they were sinking to the sands before her back hit them. A plume of sand covered her vision for a brief moment before his gills fluttered hard enough to push it all away from her. He loomed over her, a dark shadow with a frame of the sea behind him. “I have wanted to taste you for such a long time,” he growled, his voice low and guttural. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know how he would taste her, but... Sure. If that’s what he wanted to do. Nodding frantically, she wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed him again. Arching into him, wanting whatever he would give her. “Then taste me.” He groaned, his body going rigid under her touch. “We are not a gentle people, Alys.” “I don’t want gentle.” “I don’t know how to do this the way your people do, maybe...” She leaned away from him, a full-blown glare on her face. “Do you want me?” “Yes.” The word wrenched out of him like she had pulled it out of his heart. “More than anything.” “Then touch me how you want. Taste me how you want. I don’t even know what that means, but I’m telling you that nothing you do will feel wrong.” She kissed him again, sweeter this time, but with no less desire. “No one has done this before, Imber. I think it’s safe to say that anything we do will be new for the both of us.” He shook his head, gliding his lips over hers. “I don’t want to hurt you.” “I’ll tell you if it hurts.” She didn’t think any of it could

Biting her lip, she eyed the nervous expression on his face before deciding she knew what to do. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” she whispered, planting her hands against his chest and giving him a little shove. He didn’t fight her. Imber rolled onto his back, allowing her to straddle him and to gently move their connection to her right. She wanted that cord within sight, but she also didn’t want to think about it. Distractions had no place here. Then she forgot about the dangers of being underwater and instead focused on the handsome creature splayed out underneath her. She skated her fingers over his chest, letting her fingers dip into the hollows where muscles created shadows. He was warmer than she expected. Normally, he was a rather chilly creature to touch. But every time she pressed down on a new muscle, or moved farther down his body, he seemed to radiate even more heat. As she watched, the gills on the side of his neck flared out, shaking just a bit with nerves or perhaps with want. “Alys,” he murmured, licking his lips as his eyes went even darker. “I don’t know that you’ll like what you find.” “Hm?” She leaned down and flicked one of his rib gills with her tongue. “I don’t know why or how you’re still thinking.

He’d flicked his fluke before he even realized he was moving. Then he was racing toward her, speeding through the water so quickly he swore it didn’t even touch him before he had her gathered up in his arms. Her twin tails wrapped around his waist, holding him just as tightly as he held her. They coiled around each other, tangling as best they could until he couldn’t tell where he started and where she began. He held her close, breathing in her familiar scent and the hope that came with it. “Alys,” he breathed into her neck. “I’m so sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I didn’t know what they were going to do, or that they knew about your people. I would have done something, I promise.” “You know now?” “I know everything.” Her entire body quaked in his arms, wracked with emotions as she struggled to speak through them. “I confronted my father. He’s the main designers, and I’m sure that means nothing to you at all. I didn’t know where they were going to build the city or that they knew you existed. All I heard at first was that they were going through with the design no matter who it affected, but I didn’t ever think it would come to this.” He tugged her away from him, confused at what she was saying. And also because he wanted to look at her. He wanted to see the tears in her eyes and know without a doubt that she was as plagued by this as he was. “Alys. You have to tell me everything.

He took her hand in his and slid it down his arm. He used his own hand to force her to linger on the sharp points down the backs of his arms, then drew her closer to make her feel the spines down his back. Baring his teeth, he took her hand and touched her thumb to the sharp points of his teeth. Throughout it all, she held her breath. Barely breathing at all as she allowed him to make her touch every single dangerous part of him. And when he was done, when he was certain she had been frightened enough, he leaned down to press his lips against the very sensitive side of her neck. “I am a predator, Alys, but I am yours. In this time, in the next, in all the lives to come. I am yours. You never have any reason to fear me.” Her arms came down around him, her single heart thundering against both of his, and he knew in that moment that she understood what he was saying. She was safe. He would keep her safe.

Eddie said. “I

Beta?” she asked, turning to rummage through one of the storage containers. “Do you know where I put the welder?” “Miss Alys, I don’t think we’re alone anymore.” “Very funny. Did Dad send someone to find me, after all?” She yanked out what felt like a welder, but ended up being the broken end of a screwdriver. “Damn it.” “Alys!” Beta’s voice was a little harsher this time. “Turn around.” Sighing, she had a whole rant on the tip of her tongue to scold the droid for trying to scare her, but then all the words disappeared the moment the droid turned on the lights outside of the pod. A man floated outside of her sub. No, not a man. Something else entirely. His long, dark hair hovered around his head, graceful and delicate in comparison to the hard swath of muscles that tapered down from his broad shoulders to a very narrow waist. But that was all that looked human. She could see the delicate webs between his fingers that ended in deadly black claws. The gills that fluttered on the side of his neck and the bright green scales that created a tiger stripe pattern all down his body. It was... What was he?

Just because she hadn’t been here for a few days didn’t mean she no longer wished to see him. At least, that’s what he told himself every day he showed up in their grove and she wasn’t there. He wasn’t a fool. Imber knew whatever was between them was risky. Alys was one of the achromos, and he was one of the People of Water. He didn’t even know how they would make this relationship work. She couldn’t breathe underwater. He couldn’t live on the land. They were the sun and the sea, trying very hard to make something work between the two of them, but knowing that eventually, they had to part. The moon always rose on the horizon, and the sun always set.

And you are so pink here. Especially after you’ve touched me with your mouth.” “A kiss,” she replied. “That’s what we call it.” His eyes somehow went from black to obsidian. “A kiss. I would like to kiss you again, Alys.” She groaned and let the world fall away. Who needed to breathe when he could breathe for her? Pouring desire and oxygen deep into her lungs with every broad stroke of his tongue.

didn’t realize your mouth could do that.” He pressed a little harder against her lips, forcing her to open her mouth. “I don’t think I’ll look at it the same way again.” She licked the tip of his finger. “Well, I had to return the favor.” Those eyes darkened, and he sat up. Pulling her with him, he wedged her in his lap and she felt how hard he still was. Impossibly. She hadn’t thought... With a gasp, she froze as he lifted her just enough to put the head of his bottom cock against her entrance. “Wait,” she whispered. “You can still...” “Alys, I have two of them for a reason.” Those dark eyes met hers with an intent stare. “As long as you still wish to...” “Yes!” she blurted a little too quickly. “It’s just, normally, there’s a refractory period.” “A what?” “Men don’t stay hard where I come from.” She reached down and touched the top cock that was still half hard. “There’s some benefit to having you around, I see.” The crooked grin on his face was enough to send a rush of heat between her legs. “Oh, Alys, you have no idea how much you’re going to like having me as your mate.” She should have argued that he wasn’t her mate. That the term was a little too barbaric for her, but she didn’t. Instead, she reveled in the thrill the words sent shooting through her body as his tail suddenly undulated behind her. He looped it around her waist, locking her in place even as the rest of it created a comfortable brace for her back. Then he flexed all those muscles in his tail and the head of him slid inside her. She felt her mouth drop open as she made a little sound of surprise. Even the head of him, and she’d had that in her mouth, was so big. His face contorted with pleasure, those fangs bared as he wedged himself a little deeper, drawing back only to push in a little farther the next time. He eased himself inside her, slowly working over and over again with so much patience that it made her heart race. Throughout it all, he whispered encouragement. “Alys, yes. Breathe, you beautiful woman. Breathe for me, love. Look how well you take me.

Stalling the submarine in the same spot where she had been leaving it for days on end, she waited while holding her breath. Her eyes locked on the kelp in front of her, every muscle in her body seized as she waited. “This is getting ridiculous,” her droid muttered inside the wall. “Eventually you’re going to have to do something other than stare at him.” “I’m not staring at him,” she replied. “I’m waiting for him.” “Sure looks like staring to me.” They couldn’t even speak with each other, but that didn’t matter to Alys. They talked in other ways. Hand gestures, heart felt looks. She knew without a doubt that he found her as interesting as she found him. And together, they were discovering so much about each other’s species.

Swallowing, she touched a finger to her forehead. “Alys.” Then she tapped his forehead. He didn’t seem to understand what she was asking, so she did it a few more times. Never saying anything other than her name. Then suddenly she could see the realization dawn on him. His eyes widened, his lips parted in sudden shock. “Alys,” he repeated, that low voice singing the word. She’d never heard the sound of her own name be so beautiful. Reaching up between them, he traced her jaw with a long claw. “Alys,” he said again, then rumbled a word that she would never forget. “Imber.” “Is that your name?” she breathed. “Imber?” His entire face brightened with the word as she said it, and she knew she was right. His name was Imber, and it was such a strange name for a man so large and dangerous.

He touched a finger to the carving and then tapped his claw to her forehead. As if trying to tell her something. “This is for me?” she curled her hand around it and mimed like she was going to put it in her pocket. A deep thrum started in his chest. He slid his hand with hers inside her pocket, the backs of his fingers brushing against her hip bone. But then he said something else, his eyes intense. Sliding his hand out of her pocket, he dragged his fingers through her skirts and then flattened his hand above her chest. Above her heart. As if... “Is the carving supposed to be me?” she asked. Tapping her hands against her chest, she said, “Alys?” He touched the carving in her pocket and gently patted his hand over her heart at the same time. “Alys.” Then he said another word. Maybe two, she didn’t know. All she understood was that he saw her like he saw the sea itself. A thud made her chest hurt. Then another. Then she realized that something inside of her was screaming to get out, because he saw her like the sea. He saw her as some goddess who had walked into his life, a wave that crashed down upon him and he wasn’t afraid of that.

Her body ached, all of her muscles feeling tired in a way that they’d never felt before. She was so thirsty and had a headache blooming behind her eyes that had only happened once before when she’d gone too long without water. But this time it was so much more intense right between her eyes, like her brain was warning her about... something. Her stomach clenched in hunger, but she didn’t know how long it had been since she’d eaten anything. She didn’t even realize that her body was listing to the side until Imber gently propped her up. He pulled her pale, wrinkled hands out of her eyesight. “What is happening to you?” “I think the water...” Alys lifted her shaking hands again, just so she could see the damage. So it wasn’t entirely made up in her own head. “I can’t stay in the water this long. How long has it been?” His concerned gaze focused on her hands before he cleared his throat. “I don’t... I don’t know.” “How many sunrises?” “Three.” “How deep are we?” He shook his head. “I don’t know what that means. There is no measurement for me to give you.” She looked up at the surface, her mind ticking through all the possibilities. She didn’t think she was deep enough to get the bends. It wasn’t likely, anyway. What if all of this made her sick? What if going to the surface made her blood boil and her body just gave up? “Slowly,” she finally whispered. “I need to go to the surface very slowly. Just in case.” “Just in case what?” With a wide-eyed stare, she hoped she conveyed how terrified she was. And to his credit, Imber didn’t question her any more. He just gathered her in his arms and started their ascent.

In awe, she took the box from him as his arm tightened slightly around her waist. He leaned down and murmured in her ear, “Hello, Alys.” Tears pricked in her eyes. She could understand him! And those were the first words she heard, just like she would have if they were two people meeting on land. Like they didn’t already have a massive amount of history between the two of them. Slowly turning in his arms, knowing her eyes were wider than they had ever been before, she licked her lips and watched his mouth. “Say something else.

Cheddar Man’ had ‘dark to black skin’, curly dark hair, and blue eyes (see Figure 5). He was part of an original population that had been the first settlers who had crossed from continental Europe to Britain at the end of the last ice age, and 10 per cent of white British people alive today are descended from this group.

Fate isn’t always the good stuff, Remi. Sometimes the path provided isn’t a straight line but rather a journey filled with obstacles and detours. It took the unimaginable for me to find you, but I will never stop being grateful that there was even one single junction in time in which our paths crossed.

itself. Up next, Mr. Yang’s wife, June, testified in a halting voice about hearing an argument on her front porch that day. As far as she could tell, she said, Alex had been aggressive from the moment he’d arrived, and then rude and dismissive when she’d come outside to find her husband unconscious on the sidewalk. Alex’s heart clenched as she spoke. He’d been giving CPR to Mr. Yang when his wife came out, and yes, it was entirely possible that he’d come off as rude in the moment. Still, it was hard to watch this woman in so much pain, even as she testified against him. If nothing else, the fact that she hadn’t actually

I've brought you a gift,' I said Noah's wild gaze turned to me. 'You can't do this!' I shushed him and ran my hand down his cheek. 'It was never the dark you were afraid, was it, Noah? It was the things you knew dwelled in it.' Alys reached out her dark-stained hands, and I thrust Noah towards her. She grinned, pouncing on him like a cat on a mouse. His scream was the last thing I heard as I left.

This particular shop uses three types of Sicilian pistachios and slow roasts them for twenty-four hours. Forty-seven judges from a gelato university crossed the world trying to find the absolute best, and they picked this one. So how could I not do that?" "'Gelato university'?" He chuckles. "I know, right? I definitely missed my calling," I reply, and I love how his laugh gets a little deeper. "But at least you didn't miss the gelato." "Exactly!" I smile, relishing the lightness between us once again. "What else is on your list?" he asks. "Definitely more lentils, and this region is known for truffles, so I have to do that. But they're also known for their meats here, which is interesting. Obviously the cured meats we're used to when we think of Italian charcuteries is here, but also a lot of roasted pork as well, and boar. And sausage! I read a recipe for amatriciana with sausage instead of guanciale. Umbria's actually one of the few regions of Italy without any coastline---" "So you did no research at all before coming?" he says, sarcasm peppered in with a smile. "Please, I'm just getting warmed up. I haven't even gotten into the olive oil varietals. And pesto! That pesto we had at the dinner last night on the lamb chops--- that pesto that has marjoram and walnuts instead of the one we're used to from Liguria, with basil and pine nuts.

On the Birthday of Murtaza Bhutto My nephew drives on a route that crosses alongside 70 Clifton every day since I am in Karachi. It reminds me that I was then a working journalist. I visited the last 70 Clifton in 1977, the resident of Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, later, Benazir Bhutto, and then Murtaza Bhutto and Fatima Bhutto during the driving towards Karachi Press Club; I asked my nephew to stop near 70 Clifton so that we can click a few pics of it. Today is Murtaza Bhutto's Birthday, and he became the victim of armed evil and murder. I stood outside 70 Clifton, remembering inside the conversations, discussions, and delightful atmosphere in the Bhutto era. I felt sadness and pain, imagining that time when pleasure, joy, and mob walked around it, but today it was dead-quiet and displayed sadness on its walls; the Birthday existed; however, the figure held that day was not there, and his daughter far away from Pakistan in exile-life, though the justice has failed, not the God.

it struck me with the force of certainty that I wasn’t the only one of us to be affected this way: that Theo was feeling it too, and this was why he was so cross. And Jonathan? Was he too infected with this deadly inertia? And where was it coming from?

On the Birthday of Murtaza Bhutto My nephew drives on a route that crosses alongside 70 Clifton every day since I am in Karachi. It reminds me that when I was a working journalist. I visited the last 70 Clifton in 1977, the resident of Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto. Later, Benazir Bhutto and then Murtaza Bhutto and Fatima Bhutto, during the driving towards Karachi Press Club, I asked my nephew to stop near 70 Clifton, so that we can click a few pics of it. Today is Murtaza Bhutto's Birthday, who became the victim of armed-evil and murdered. I stood outside 70 Clifton, remembering inside the conversations, discussions, and delightful atmosphere, in the Bhutto era. I felt sadness and pain, imagining that time when pleasure, joy, and mob walked around it, but today it was dead-quiet and displayed sadness on its walls, the Birthday existed; however, the figure held that day was not there, and his daughter far away from Pakistan, in exile-life, though, the justice has failed but not the God.

The panoramic plethora of responses to Shakespeare by Western and Eastern critics is strongly indicative of the fact that the Bard crosses all nationalities and deserves to be called a global writer. That is why he is easily appreciated, manipulated, translated, adapted, and interpreted by everyone, everywhere.

The life of the world is but a bridge we must all cross over to the Hereafter (from Faith versus Materialism)

I met Ali in the refugee camp while covering the famine and cholera epidemic that erupted in Yemen in 2017. Two years before, Ali decided to leave his homeland “forever.” He managed to get onboard a small boat which took him to a tanker ship that would carry him and three hundred other refugees to Djibouti. The night of his escape, Ali’s skiff pulled next to the towering tanker. The tanker crew lowered a basket to raise him more than forty feet onto the deck. During that hoist, rising vertically above the sea, the basket lifted Ali to an epiphany. “The crazy people do not have the height dimension!” he explained. “They have only two dimensions!” Ali presented his right palm, flat as a drafting table. “The crazy people have only length and width,” he said. He drew the two dimensions in imaginary lines on his outstretched palm. Then, with his left hand, the one holding a phantom pencil, he drew a vertical line up from his palm, stopping at the level of his eyes. “You must have the vertical dimension to be truly human,” he said. The imaginary vertical line stood balanced on his palm. Ali’s eyes crossed slightly as he focused on the point of his invisible pencil. The line rose, like a cable lifting a basket, into a third dimension beyond humanity’s binary divisions: beyond the choice of Sunni or Shiite, Muslim or Christian, political left or right. Ali was mad. Maybe the war pushed him into insanity. Maybe it was the torturing heat. But within insanity, there can be a kind of clarity unavailable to those who consider themselves sane. In his escape from Yemen, swaying in a basket in the night, Ali saw something—something that looked to the rising draftsman like compassion, forgiveness and empathy—a third dimension, the dimension of peace.

Nope, Ali’s waiting on you. He’s in there watching some cockamamie show about a dysfunctional family that makes duck calls.