Awesome Movie Quotes

Live Another Sol would be an awesome name for a James Bond movie.

If someone called me chubby, it would no longer be something that kept me up late at night. Being called fat is not like being called stupid or unfunny, which is the worst thing you could ever say to me. Do I envy Jennifer Hudson for being able to lose all that weight and look smokin’ hot? Of course, yes. Do I sometimes look at Gisele Bundchen and wonder how awesome life would be if I never had to wear Spanx? Duh, of course. That’s kind of the point of Gisele Bundchen. And maybe I will, once or twice, for a very short period of time. But on the list of things I want to do in my lifetime, that’s not near the top. I mean, it’s not near the bottom either. I’d say it’s right above “Learn to drive a vespa,” but several notches below “film a chase scene for a movie.

That’s one of the best things about horror movies – they’re not real life. They’re like emotional cardio. They give us the chance to be terrified in a consequence-free environment. That’s the joy of all fiction, really: you get the benefit of experiencing something without the burden of having to actually experience it.

Whatever happened to chivalry? Does it only exist in 80's movies? I want John Cusack holding a boombox outside my window. I wanna ride off on a lawnmower with Patrick Dempsey. I want Jake from Sixteen Candles waiting outside the church for me. I want Judd Nelson thrusting his fist into the air because he knows he got me. Just once I want my life to be like an 80's movie, preferably one with a really awesome musical number for no apparent reason. But no, no, John Hughes did not direct my life.

I'm not the one with the problem its the world who seems to have a problem with me

The plot of the movie seemed stupid to them: Aguirre and everyone were searching for a city that it said right at the beginning did not exist. They didn't understand that that was the whole point. They didn't get that it was awesome because it was so insanely meaningless.

Denji: Makima, In the super ultra awesome world you'd make, would there be any crappy movies? Makima: Why is Denji back...? I think... That it would be better without uninteresting movies Denji: Hmmm... Yeah, guess I've gotta kill you then

Whatever happened to chivalry? Does it only exist in 80's movies? I want John Cusack holding a boombox outside my window. I wanna ride off on a lawnmower with Patrick Dempsey. I want Jake from Sixteen Candles waiting outside the church for me. I want Judd Nelson thrusting his fist into the air because he knows he got me. Just once I want my life to be like an 80's movie, preferably one with a really awesome musical number for no apparent reason. But no, no, John Hughes did not direct my life.

I’m not him—that guy who was your boyfriend. That guy you want.”He almost said: I wish I could be. He had wished he could be. That was why he had come to the Academy, to learn how to be that guy they all wanted back. He’d wanted to be that way, be an awesome hero like in a game or a movie. He’d been so sure, at first, that was what he wanted. Except wishing he could be that guy was like wishing to obliterate the guy he was now: the normal, happy guy in a band, who could still love his mother, who did not wake up in the coldest, darkest hour of the night weeping for dead friends. And he did not know if he could be that guy she wanted, whether he wished it or not.

Looks like I’ll live another sol. Live Another Sol would be an awesome name for a James Bond movie.

But I did wake up, and the main computer showed the slight rise in CO2 I had predicted. Looks like I’ll live another sol. Live Another Sol would be an awesome name for a James Bond movie.

I totally feel like an FBI agent right now, with my legs spread and my arms out straight, gripping the gun. I’ll bet my butt looks awesome. … I squint at the target, holding the gun like I’ve seen FBI guys do it in the movies. I am so badass.

This paying attention is the foundational act of empathy, of listening, of seeing, of imagining experiences other than one's own, of getting out of the boundaries of one's own experience. There's a currently popular argument that books help us feel empathy, but if they do so they do it by helping us imagine that we are people we are not. Or to go deeper within ourselves, to be more aware of what it means to be heartbroken, or ill, or six, or ninety-six, or completely lost. Not just versions of our self rendered awesome and eternally justified and always right, living in a world in which other people only exist to help reinforce our magnificence, though those kinds of books and movies exist in abundance to cater to the male imagination. Which is a reminder that literature and art can also help us fail at empathy if it sequesters us in the Big Old Fortress of Magnificent Me.

Whatever happened to chivalry? Does it only exist in 80's movies? I want John Cusack holding a boom box outside my window. I wanna ride off on a lawnmower with Patrick Dempsey. I want Jake from Sixteen Candles waiting outside the church for me. I want Judd Nelson thrusting his fist into the air because he knows he got me. Just once I want my life to be like an 80's movie, preferably one with a really awesome musical number for no apparent reason. But no, no, John Hughes did not direct my life.

You know how my first few minutes in a new Minecraft world are usually spent screaming, running for my life, and hiding from scary monsters—sometimes even GIANT ones! Well, not this time! Instead of a giant monster, I was plopped down in front of a giant MANSION! (Yay, Minecraft: Peaceful Paradise floating book!) And the best part was that it wasn’t all dark and creepy like the Haunted House! It was an awesome modern mansion made of white stone and glass. Even better, it was built on a hillside overlooking an ocean! Actually, it reminded me of Tony Stark’s house in one of my favorite movies, Iron Man. I guess you could say it’s a MARVEL-ous mansion! (Heh, heh.)   Anyway,

But I did wake up, and the main computer showed the slight rise in CO2 I had predicted. Looks like I'll live another sol. Live Another Sol would be an awesome name for a James Bond movie.

Omg this is like one of those sappy romance movies but I don’t care! Jake is holding my hand! I looked back up at him and we slowly rose staring into each other’s eyes. Ok, where the heck is my awesome music saying he’s the one?! What about a breeze that blows my hair in all directions making me look hot? C’mon Cupid! Give me something!!! A weak chilly breeze blew. It barely even moved my hair. Oh c’mon!!!!

Because I live in south Florida I store cans of black beans and gallons of water in my closet in preparation for hurricane season. I throw a hurricane party in January. You’re my only guest. We play Marco Polo in bed. The sheets are wet like the roof caved in. There’s a million of me in you. You try to count me as I taste the sweat on the back of your neck. I call you Sexy Sexy, and we do everything twice. After, still sweating, we drink Crystal Light out of plastic water bottles. We discuss the pros and cons of vasectomies. It’s not invasive you say. I wrap the bedsheet around my waist. Minor surgery you say. You slur the word surgery, like it’s a garnish on a dish you just prepared. I eat your hair until you agree to no longer talk about vasectomies. We agree to have children someday, and that they will be beautiful even if they’re not. As I watch your eyes grow heavy like soggy clothes, I tell you When I grow up I’m going to be a famous writer. When I’m famous I’ll sign autographs on Etch-A-Sketches. I’ll write poems about writing other poems, so other poets will get me. You open your eyes long enough to tell me that when you grow up, you’re going to be a steamboat operator. Your pores can never be too clean you say. I say I like your pores just fine. I say Your pores are tops. I kiss you with my whole mouth, and you fall asleep next to my molars. In the morning, we eat french toast with powdered sugar. I wear the sugar like a mustache. You wear earmuffs and pretend we’re in a silent movie. I mouth Olive juice, but I really do love you. This is an awesome hurricane party you say, but it comes out as a yell because you can’t gauge your own volume with the earmuffs on. You yell I want to make something cute with you. I say Let me kiss the insides of your arms. You have no idea what I just said, but you like the way I smile.

I mean, it’s not like a great big gigantic ship is going to come out of nowhere and rescue us —” Batman’s tirade was interrupted by the sound of cannon fire. BLAM! It was Metal Beard and his awesome pirate ship, the Sea Cow.

I would say that if Rilo Kiley were ... hmmm ... a human being ... hmmm ... he's probably laying on his back in a morgue with a tag on his toe. Now, I see movies where the dead get up and walk. And when they do that, rarely do good things happen.

You know those horror movies where the silicon-inflated babe totters down the street in stilettos while a werewolf lopes after her at six thousand miles an hour? All I have to say to that is, “Bitch would have gotten away if she’d picked better shoes.

Want to be an AWESOME mom? TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF TAKE TIME FOR YOURSELF and REWARD YOURSELF Vent and cry if you need to. Say how you feel. Ask for help. Stop comparing yourself to other moms. Walk away from senseless toxic drama. Forget about the housework. Escape from reality every now and then. Take a hot bath. Take a nap. Lose yourself in a book. Pamper yourself. Go to the spa. Buy something for YOU. Go out to eat. Order in. Have a few drinks. Go out with the girls. Plan a date night. Go see a movie. Dance the night away. Celebrate LIFE. Celebrate YOURSELF. It’s NOT selfish. It’s necessary and important.

Simple organisms like bacteria tend more to the Airfix way of life. Their genes are fairly set, coding for just one protein. The more complex an organism becomes, the more the genome begins to resemble LEGO, with a much greater degree of flexibility in how the components are used. And when we think how extraordinary we humans are, it seems reasonable to say, in a nod to certain movie, that at the genetic level 'everything is awesome'.

There’s our homecoming picture. Last Halloween, when I dressed up as Mulan and Peter wore a dragon costume. There’s a receipt from Tart and Tangy. One of his notes to me, from before. If you make Josh’s dumb white-chocolate cranberry cookies and not my fruitcake ones, it’s over. Pictures of us from Senior Week. Prom. Dried rose petals from my corsage. The Sixteen Candles picture. There are some things I didn’t include, like the ticket stub from our first real date, the note he wrote me that said, I like you in blue. Those things are tucked away in my hatbox. I’ll never let those go. But the really special thing I’ve included is my letter, the one I wrote to him so long ago, the one that brought us together. I wanted to keep it, but something felt right about Peter having it. One day all of this will be proof, proof that we were here, proof that we loved each other. It’s the guarantee that no matter what happens to us in the future, this time was ours. When he gets to that page, Peter stops. “I thought you wanted to keep this,” he said. “I wanted to, but then I felt like you should have it. Just promise you’ll keep it forever.” He turns the page. It’s a picture from when we took my grandma to karaoke. I sang “You’re So Vain” and dedicated it to Peter. Peter got up and sang “Style” by Taylor Swift. Then he dueted “Unchained Melody” with my grandma, and after, she made us both promise to take a Korean language class at UVA. She and Peter took a ton of selfies together that night. She made one her home screen on her phone. Her friends at her apartment complex said he looked like a movie star. I made the mistake of telling Peter, and he crowed about it for days after. He stays on that page for a while. When he doesn’t say anything, I say, helpfully, “It’s something to remember us by.” He snaps the book shut. “Thanks,” he says, flashing me a quick smile. “This is awesome.

Reina sounds awesome,” Sid says. “I’m digging her more and more.” “Were you there?” I ask. “Have you seen one of these movies?” “No,” Scottie says. “Scottie,” Alex says, kicking Sid in the ribs. “Reina is a fuckedup ho bag, and you need to stay away from her. I’ve already told you that. Do you want to end up like me?” “Yes,” Scottie says. “I mean the earlier me, when I was yelling at Mom.” “No,” Scottie says. “Well, Reina is going to be a crackhead, and she’s going to get used. She’s a twat. Say it.” “Twat,” Scottie says. She gets up and runs across the room, saying, “Twat twat twat twat twat.” “Holy shit,” Sid says. “This is some messed-up parenting. Isn’t it?” Alex shrugs. “Maybe. I guess we’ll see.” “I don’t get it,” I say. “I don’t know what to do. These things she does, they keep happening.” “It will go away,” Alex says. “Will it? I mean, look at how you kids talk. In front of me, especially. It’s like you don’t respect authority.” The kids stare at the television. I tell them to get out. I’m going to bed.

It would be awesome. And sick. And sad. And uplifting. And necessary. After all, the greatest truths in life are usually the most unpleasant to hear. Disappointment Panda would be the hero that none of us would want but all of us would need. He’d be the proverbial vegetables to our mental diet of junk food. He’d make our lives better despite making us feel worse. He’d make us stronger by tearing us down, brighten our future by showing us the darkness. Listening to him would be like watching a movie where the hero dies in the end: you love it even more despite making you feel horrible, because it feels real. So

Science is more than a body of knowledge; it is a way of thinking. I have a foreboding of an America in my children’s or grandchildren’s time—when the United States is a service and information economy; when nearly all the key manufacturing industries have slipped away to other countries; when awesome technological powers are in the hands of a very few, and no one representing the public interest can even grasp the issues; when the people have lost the ability to set their own agendas or knowledgeably question those in authority; when, clutching our crystals and nervously consulting our horoscopes, our critical faculties in decline, unable to distinguish between what feels good and what’s true, we slide, almost without noticing, back into superstition and darkness. The dumbing down of America is most evident in the slow decay of substantive content in the enormously influential media, the 30-second sound bites (now down to 10 seconds or less), lowest common denominator programming, credulous presentations on pseudoscience and superstition, but especially a kind of celebration of ignorance. As I write, the number-one videocassette rental in America is the movie Dumb and Dumber. “Beavis and Butthead” remain popular (and influential) with young TV viewers. The plain lesson is that study and learning—not just of science, but of anything—are avoidable, even undesirable.

Keep in mind the rewards ahead. Workouts provide awesome internal rewards; after a long dance practice or gym workout I always have more energy and a clearer mind, and I’m able to focus on things I need to get done. But we all know it’s hard to remember that great feeling when you’re headed off to the gym, dreading the work ahead. Conjuring that ecstatic state of mind you know you’ll find later can be a tremendous motivator. If you prefer external rewards, motivate yourself with baby steps every day to hit a bigger long-term goal--one with a luxurious reward as your prize. Once you’ve reached it, allow yourself to follow through with whatever reward it was that motivated you, whether it’s a great glass of wine or a Sunday movie marathon.

I sprinkle some flour on the dough and roll it out with the heavy, wooden rolling pin. Once it’s the perfect size and thickness, I flip the rolling pin around and sing into the handle—American Idol style. “Calling Gloriaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa . . .” And then I turn around. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Without thinking, I bend my arm and throw the rolling pin like a tomahawk . . . straight at the head of the guy who’s standing just inside the kitchen door. The guy I didn’t hear come in. The guy who catches the hurling rolling pin without flinching—one-handed and cool as a gorgeous cucumber—just an inch from his perfect face. He tilts his head to the left, looking around the rolling pin to meet my eyes with his soulful brown ones. “Nice toss.” Logan St. James. Bodyguard. Totally badass. Sexiest guy I have ever seen—and that includes books, movies and TV, foreign and domestic. He’s the perfect combo of boyishly could-go-to-my-school kind of handsome, mixed with dangerously hot and tantalizingly mysterious. If comic-book Superman, James Dean, Jason Bourne and some guy with the smoothest, most perfectly pitched, British-Scottish-esque, Wessconian-accented voice all melded together into one person, they would make Logan fucking St. James. And I just tried to clock him with a baking tool—while wearing my Rick and Morty pajama short-shorts, a Winnie-the-Pooh T-shirt I’ve had since I was eight and my SpongeBob SquarePants slippers. And no bra. Not that I have a whole lot going on upstairs, but still . . . “Christ on a saltine!” I grasp at my chest like an old woman with a pacemaker. Logan’s brow wrinkles. “Haven’t heard that one before.” Oh fuck—did he see me dancing? Did he see me leap? God, let me die now. I yank on my earbuds’ cord, popping them from my ears. “What the hell, dude?! Make some noise when you walk in—let a girl know she’s not alone. You could’ve given me a heart attack. And I could’ve killed you with my awesome ninja skills.” The corner of his mouth quirks. “No, you couldn’t.” He sets the rolling pin down on the counter. “I knocked on the kitchen door so I wouldn’t frighten you, but you were busy with your . . . performance.” Blood and heat rush to my face. And I want to melt into the floor and then all the way down to the Earth’s core.

Can we walk for a bit?” he says. “Yes, that would be lovely.” But as I start getting up I lose my footing and slip and fall—right over the shingle. If I’d been doing a stunt in an action-adventure movie it would have probably looked spectacular but in the context of a romantic makeup it looks totally ridiculous. “Are you OK?” Noah calls over to me. I scramble up, my face red with embarrassment. “That was an awesome body roll. I wanna try.” Noah takes a step back before hurling himself over the shingle. He crashes into me and we land on the beach in a tangled heap. And as we laugh our heads off, the very last traces of tension between us disappear. “I’ve missed you so much, Inciting Incident,” he whispers. — Zoe Sugg (Girl Online (Girl Online, #1))

It’s probably long overdue for us to throw out what we think we know about love. Girls have grown up with too many fairy tale/date movies/romance bodice-rippers racing around in our heads—the warrior with his rippling muscles and the golden-maned damsel clinging to his breeches. The title is something like Savage Heat or Destiny’s Desire. This is the fairy tale world where men and women always orgasm at the same time or where the man wakes the sleeping princess with a kiss, or where the hero slays the dragon and rescues the damsel from a tower, or where, essentially, everyone lives happily ever after and no one writes what happens next. What happens next is that reality sets in. The golden bubble bursts. There are bills to pay. Someone has to walk the dog and clean the cat litter box and go to the grocery store for milk.

Listen to Me in the truth of your soul. Listen to Me in the feelings of your heart. Listen to Me in the quiet of your mind. Hear Me, everywhere. Whenever you have a question, simply know that I have answered it already. Then open your eyes to your world. My response could be in an article already published. In the sermon already written and about to be delivered. In the movie now being made. In the song just yesterday composed. In the words about to be said by a loved one. In the heart of a new friend about to be made. My Truth is in the whisper of the wind, the babble of the brook, the crack of the thunder, the tap of the rain. It is the feel of the earth, the fragrance of the lily, the warmth of the sun, the pull of the moon. My Truth—and your surest help in time of need—is as awesome as the night sky, and as simply, incontrovertibly, trustful as a baby’s gurgle. It is as loud as a pounding heartbeat—and as quiet as a breath taken in unity with Me. I will not leave you, I cannot leave you, for you are My creation and My product, My daughter and My son, My purpose and My…Self. Call on Me, therefore, wherever and whenever you are separate from the peace that I am. I will be there. With Truth. And Light. And Love.

Where do the biggest movie star of his generation and a revered director (and great actor in his own right) stay when they are visiting someone? Would you believe the local Holiday Inn? Hoping to forge a better connection to Chris, Clint Eastwood and Bradley Cooper came to see me and the rest of the family in early spring of 2014, before they started filming American Sniper. The unpretentiousness of their visit and their genuine goodwill floored me. It was a great omen for the movie. Bubba and I picked them up at the local airport and brought them home; within minutes Bubba had Bradley out in the back playing soccer. Meanwhile, Clint and I talked inside. He reminded me of my grandfather with his courtly manners and gracious ways. He was very funny, with a quiet, quick wit and dry sense of humor. After dinner--it was an oryx Chris had killed shortly before he died--Bradley took Bubba to the Dairy Queen for dessert. Even in small-town Texas, he couldn’t quite get away without being recognized, and when someone asked for his photo, he stepped aside to pose. Bubba folded his arms across his chest and scanned the area much as his dad would have: on overwatch. I guess I didn’t really understand how unusual the situation was until later, when I dropped them off at the Holiday Inn. I watched them walk into the lobby and disappear. That’s Clint Eastwood and Bradley Cooper! Awesome!

A reader has recently described the Heresy novels as "Dan Brown meets Guy Ritchie" and "I am constantly telling people about the awesome movie I'm watching, and then correct myself. Book. Book that I'm reading.

We loved it. We loved how slow it was. We love that it took forever. Actually, we never wanted it to end. We loved the jungle, the rafts, the ridiculous armor and helmets. . .I think most of all we loved that it didn't have a happy ending for anyone. The whole time we were sort of expecting that someone would survive because that's how stories work: Even if everything is a total disaster, someone lives to tell the tale. But not with Aguirre, the Wrath of God. Hell no. Everyone dies. That's awesome.

a fun movie involving interlocking plastic blocks had taught me: it was cool being part of a team. More than cool. It was awesome.

I know you thought you wanted Michael, but do you really want to stick with over-romanticized ideas when you can have an awesome real thing?

Deep down, Lin Shan was rejoicing. She was glad she had watched Stephen Chow's movie "King of Beggars". If not, how else would she ! think of this awesome idea? What they say was correct: If you do not have book smarts, you have to have street smarts. If you don't have street smarts, then watch more TV.

Bailey sat on the edge of the couch and fed Maddy grapes. The very swollen mommy-to-be initially complained about being fed like a pet. Eventually, she gave in and enjoyed the attention. Not to be outdone, Sawyer turned a fan towards Maddy and was painting her nails. I watched them baby her and wondered about when I would be that big and uncomfortable. “I’m in no hurry to have a baby,” Tawny said, maybe for the tenth time since arriving. “Not in any hurry at all.” Farah grinned from where she was cutting carrots into little perfect sticks for dipping. “Coop is obsessed with getting me pregnant. First, his little brother is about to have a baby then his best friend. I swear whenever we’re alone, he’s inside me,” she said then her smile grew. “It’s awesome.” “Huh,” Tawny muttered. “Judd is in me all the time too and not because he’s trying to plant his flag or lay his seed or whatever.” “Jealous?” Farah asked and Tawny fake glared at her. “Sometimes, my sister irritates me too,” I said and they both laughed. “I’m going to brush the baby’s hair,” Bailey announced to no one in particular. “When she’s old enough, I’m going to put those little barrettes in her hair and make her wear headbands and turn her into a doll. Then when she cries, I’m giving her back to Maddy.” “Yeah for me,” Maddy whispered with her eyes closed. “Are you suffering?” Bailey asked. “Like should I do more for you to ease away the horror of how huge you’ve become?” Opening her eyes a crack, Maddy muttered, “Stop charming me.” Bailey grinned. “Seriously, you look pretty miserable today.” “I’ve been having those Braxton Hicks contractions since yesterday.” “Is that bad?” Sawyer asked, looking up from her meticulous work on Maddy’s toes. “Is it like hemorrhoids?” When we laughed, Sawyer beamed, even though she likely had no idea what was funny. “They’re like practice contractions,” Maddy explained. “They don’t hurt much, but they’re uncomfortable.” Bailey frowned. “How do you know all this stuff?” “I read a book.” “Yeah, I did that once. Not a fan.” “You guys don’t have to hang out here,” Maddy said. “The guys are out having fun and you’re pampering me. You could go to the movies if you want.” “No,” Bailey said quickly. “I need to be super nice because I had a dream that being nice will lead to a handsome awesome guy who is the fucker. I want that guy. He belongs to me and I’m sick of waiting, so shut up and let me be nice to you.” “Sure,” Maddy said, sighing. “This is nice, but I’m going to have to pee soon.” “Do you need me to carry you?” Bailey asked. “Maybe. Ask me in a few minutes.

Travis," I whisper, like I'm trying to get his attention in a movie theater. He glances up at me, shifts his eyes to the side to check for supervillains or anyone else I might be wary of hearing me. "What?" he whispers back. Then he hands me the syrup. "What happened last night ..." I start to say, but I can't continue because I am choking on the awkward. "Was really awesome?" He finishes the sentence for me with a crooked smile and I die. Then he lowers his voice to a whisper again. "I thought so, too." "That's not what I was going to say." "Really?" he asks in mock surprise. "Because last night you seemed to think it was pretty awesome. That is, if all the orgasms were any indicator." Now I'm choking on my coffee and ready to hide my own face in my napkin. He's got a verifiable point, though. "Wait, you weren't faking it, were you? For my ego's sake?" I shake my head no. No, I wasn't faking it, and no, you are not teasing me about this. No, you are not. "Travis, I'm serious." "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm serious, too. Last night really was awesome.

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Here are my Top 5 hallmarks of a charismatic person: 1)      Confidence. They don't apologize for being them-selves. They embrace it. They don't think they're too short, too tall, too fat, too thin, too bald, too much hair, too old, too young. They've stopped all that nonsense cold. Charismatic people know that the best version of me, is me! So they embrace it. And then they own it. Confidence is contagious. That's charismatic. 2)      Ask questions. One of the most noticeable attributes of a charismatic person is that they make you feel like you are special. They are really INTO you. They don't just rattle on about how awesome they are, they focus on you and ask you questions about yourself. They ask open ended questions (more on that in a later reading) and wait eagerly for your answer. Get really good as asking questions. That's charismatic. 3)      Listen well. Another striking quality of charismatic people is how well they listen. When you are talking, they are not busy formulating answers or thinking of the next question (remember, they are confident). Instead, they are 100% focused on you as you answer their questions. They listen for ways to connect and relate. Become a good listener. That's charismatic. 4)      Have something interesting to say. A key element of a charismatic person is how they seem to always have an engaging tidbit to share. They pay attention to the world, and others are interested in their observations. They read books, blogs, and newspapers. They listen to podcasts and radio and even occasionally go to movies or watch TV. So when it's time to talk, they’re interesting. That's charismatic. 5)      Laugh at yourself. Don't take yourself so seriously! Charismatic people understand the power of laughter and the first joke is always on them. So learn how to be funny and start with yourself. Look for the humor in daily life and share. Everyone loves to laugh, and charismatic people live and lead with laughter. That's charismatic.

Everything is going well "Day One" book up to page 137, planning som new movies to watch in the near future, close to awesome and powerful quotes. Some new and awesome events... - And that's life, that's how it must be!

The French and the English bought time by letting Hitler consolidate his power, as they were trying to arm, way too late. They had all been caught unprepared for the awesome, destructive power threatening them. Even the United States had no army and discussions were engaging the public whether to intervene in European affairs or to remain isolationists.- In spite of all this war of nerves, we went through the motions of going to school, going to the movies, bathing in the Prut and waiting for something to happen, waiting for a miracle that never came.

Ethan stopped pounding on the glass and watched intently as Cecil set the scene. Slowly, a smile spread across Ethan’s face. “Oh my fucking God, are you serious here? Die Hard ? This is awesome!” Only Ethan would be excited that his imminent death would mimic a scene from his favorite movie.

Note to the Breakup Buddy So a friend has asked you to be their Breakup Buddy. That's awesome! And you should consider it an honor because basically they've said, “My life is falling to pieces and you are the one person I can turn to.” That's got to feel great because really, isn't that what we were put here on this planet to do anyway—help one another? But now you are thinking, “Hmmm. This is a big responsibility. What am I supposed to do? What if I'm not qualified to be a Breakup Buddy?” Listen, all you need to be qualified is a pair of ears and some patience. That's it. But we do have a list of guidelines and thoughts for you to consider during your two months of servitude. 1. It is NOT your job to fix this person. They'll have to do that on their own. What you can do is listen to them, be honest with them and guide them toward making smart choices .. . like not calling. 2. It's okay to set limits. You have a life too and you don't want to be taken advantage of. If one hour on the phone is all you can do, then that's cool. If you can't talk at work—fine. Just let them know when you are available and what to do in case of emergency meltdowns. 3. Make it fun. It's okay to let them sob into your sweater for a while, but then suggest a movie or a concert or maybe just a hike. In fact, say, “Let's walk while we talk.” Try not to let them get too sedentary. Your job and their recovery will be much easier if you're out in the world where life's distractions can prove that even the most heartbroken of us can be amused by small dogs, handsome pedestrians, and a great window display. 4. Patience. Patience. Patience. It may take a while for your buddy to get a handle on her new single reality. That's okay. As long as they are doing it in the safe company of you, their Breakup Buddy, and not their ex. 5. Share the wealth. Your experiences, strength, and hope will help guide them out of the darkness and into the light. You may have been through something similar, so share your story and the things you did that helped you get through it. Hearing it from someone else is more comforting than you can imagine. 6. You're a good friend for doing this.

Awesomely, our nation, like no other in the world, is a culture driven by the quest to love (it's the theme of our movies, music, literature) even as it offers so little opportunity for us to understand love's meaning or to know how to realize love in word and deed. ... Schools for love do not exist. Everyone assumes that we will know how to love instinctively.

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Someone you know has just seen a great movie. Someone else had an idle thought. There’s been a suicide bombing in South Asia. Stocks soared today. Pop star has a painful secret. Someone has a new opinion. Someone is in a taxi. Please support this worthy cause. He needs that report from you—where is it? Someone wants you to join the discussion. A manhunt is on for the killers. Try this in bed. Someone’s enjoying sorbet, mmmm. Your account is now overdue. Easy chicken pot pie. Here’s a brilliant analysis. Latest vids from our African safari! Someone responded to your comment. Time’s running out, apply now. This is my new hair. Just heard an awesome joke. Someone is working hard on his big project. They had their baby! Click here for the latest vote count…

That's when Josh got the feeling that he was watching himself, too, almost like he was a character in a movie. But it wasn't the right kind of movie, and he wondered about that. How do you get to be in the kind of movie you want to be in? Everyone else appeared to be in really awesome movies, full of camaraderie and laughter. Funny moments and ice cream cones. Adventure and suspense. Heroes! How could a person get into one of those?

To him, video games may be a distraction from becoming great, but I meant for it to do the exact opposite: to showcase how awesome we are as Black people, how multifaceted, resilient, and colorful we are. [...] “They make things ‘just for us’ all the time—we’ve got Black movies and Black History Month. They give us our own shit to distract us from the fact that we don’t have control over their shit. Separate is not equal. That doesn’t even come close to leveling the field.

Jack, R U alrite? That was the first text I got from Tom, my best friend. I peeked out from under the comforter to read it, then wrapped the blanket around my head again without replying. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with him right now. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone. I just wanted to lie in the dark and pretend I didn’t exist. The cell phone buzzed again. I sighed. I made a little hole, just large enough for my eye, and stared angrily at the phone. I wanted it to realize what it was doing was wrong. That I wanted to be left alone. The phone stared back at me, a small notification light flashing on the top of the device. I picked it up and looked again. R U there? I heard U askd Jasmine 2 the dance! R U crazy??? D: )-:< I wished I was crazy. That would have made everything so much simpler. When I retreated back into my cave this time, I tried putting my pillow on my head too, hoping that it would stop the sound of the phone from cutting into my solitude. I closed my eyes as tightly as I could and tried to wish everything back to normal. That works sometimes in the movies, right? BUZZ BUZZ. “Agh!” I jumped slightly as the phone somehow buzzed even louder this time (how did it do that?) and the pillow flew off my head. Sunlight shone in through the window, blinding me. I squinted and waited for my room to blur into focus. The white walls, my posters of awesome superheroes, my laptop, my guitar… I grumbled as I leaned over and looked at my phone screen again. Wat abt HOLLY? UR GRLFRND? Ppl are sayn she is very upset! I threw the phone down on my bed. It bounced twice and ended up balancing on the edge of the mattress. I didn’t blame Holly. I was also very upset. A few weeks ago, my life had been pretty much perfect. I had the hottest girl in school as my girlfriend, I was a star player on the football team, I had a band that was definitely going to be famous someday soon, and it was all going my way. Now it was all gone, swirling towards disaster. Actually, disaster was a while back. Now things were definitely swirling towards complete chaos. My life was destroyed and I was hiding in my bed. That doesn’t happen in the movies. My phone buzzed again.

1970. Life was so good in the 70s and 80s compared to these days with no cell phones, killer music, awesome movies, classic cars and EVERYONE GOT ALONG GREAT.

Movies today are bigger, brighter, technically dazzling, awesome in their computer generated special effects. But they are also thinner; they lack the thick layers of character actors who brought depth to the background and refracted the stars’ light, so that it formed a different and more complicated image.

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The party of technocrats and consultants—of calculating triangulators and fans of the smoke-filled rooms—must eventually give way to the populism that we must have. Thus will the Democratic Party learn once again to breathe hope into those who despair. The populism I am describing is not formless anger that might lash out in any direction. It is not racism. It is not resentment. It is not demagoguery. It is, instead, to ask the most profound question of them all: “For whom does America exist?” I take that question from the culture critic Gilbert Seldes, who saw it as the great unanswered demand of the 1890s Populist revolt. The question was raised again in 1936, the year when Seldes wrote those words. It came up again in the 1960s. And here we are, asking it again today.8 For whom does America exist? Its billionaires? Its celebrities? Its tech companies? Are we the people just a laboring, sweating instrument for the bonanza paydays of our betters? Are we just glorified security guards, obeying orders to protect their holdings? Are we nothing more than a vast test market to be tracked and probed and hopefully sold on airline tickets, fast food, or Hollywood movies featuring some awesome new animation technology?

The movie resumed. The retro synth vibes were awesome; the hairstyles and clothing had us in stitches. With no nostalgia

SINCE I HAVE MY LIFE BEFORE ME” By Brooke Bronkowski I’ll live my life to the fullest. I’ll be happy. I’ll brighten up. I will be more joyful than I have ever been. I will be kind to others. I will loosen up. I will tell others about Christ. I will go on adventures and change the world. I will be bold and not change who I really am. I will have no troubles but instead help others with their troubles. You see, I’ll be one of those people who live to be history makers at a young age. Oh, I’ll have moments, good and bad, but I will wipe away the bad and only remember the good. In fact that’s all I remember, just good moments, nothing in between, just living my life to the fullest. I’ll be one of those people who go somewhere with a mission, an awesome plan, a world-changing plan, and nothing will hold me back. I’ll set an example for others, I will pray for direction. I have my life before me. I will give others the joy I have and God will give me more joy. I will do everything God tells me to do. I will follow the footsteps of God. I will do my best!!! During her freshman year in high school, Brooke was in a car accident while driving to the movies. Her life on earth ended when she was just fourteen, but her impact didn’t. Nearly fifteen hundred people attended Brooke’s memorial service. People from her public high school read poems she had written about her love for God. Everyone spoke of her example and her joy. I shared the gospel and invited those who wanted to know Jesus to come up and give their lives to Him. There must have been at least two hundred students on their knees at the front of the church praying for salvation. Ushers gave a Bible to each of them. They were Bibles that Brooke had kept in her garage, hoping to give out to all of her unsaved friends. In one day, Brooke led more people to the Lord than most ever will. In her brief fourteen years on earth, Brooke was faithful to Christ. Her short life was not wasted.

I was given a copy of this book by Author S.K. Ballinger. It did have some edits that needs to be fixed, but the story line was so intriguing that I could not put it down. The characters were brought to life very well & it made it easy to get to know each of them. The details were so on target that it was like watching a movie in my head. For those of you that haven't read this book, it's a different approach for werewolves. I don't want to give anything away, but Stan & Kain are some awesome characters that I believe everyone should get to know. When reading a book that was put together this well that you can't put it down, it makes me wonder why I haven't heard of this author before & why it's not on film for everyone's viewing pleasure. It's not very often that I find a book like this that I really care about pushing it out there, so those of you that know me will know it must be good. S.K. Ballinger is a great man & a family man. I've never met him in person, but he's definitely got enough heart for everyone to push him to the top. So I urge everyone to spread this name around & most definitely this book, because I'm sure we haven't heard the last out of him. I would hope to see a lot more coming in the near future. Even with the edits, I give this book 5 stars! Check it out on amazon

Science is more than a body of knowledge; it is a way of thinking. I have a foreboding of an America in my children’s or grandchildren’s time—when the United States is a service and information economy; when nearly all the key manufacturing industries have slipped away to other countries; when awesome technological powers are in the hands of a very few, and no one representing the public interest can even grasp the issues; when the people have lost the ability to set their own agendas or knowledgeably question those in authority; when, clutching our crystals and nervously consulting our horoscopes, our critical faculties in decline, unable to distinguish between what feels good and what’s true, we slide, almost without noticing, back into superstition and darkness. The dumbing down of America is most evident in the slow decay of substantive content in the enormously influential media, the 30-second sound bites (now down to 10 seconds or less), lowest common denominator programming, credulous presentations on pseudoscience and superstition, but especially a kind of celebration of ignorance. As I write, the number-one videocassette rental in America is the movie Dumb and Dumber. “Beavis and Butthead” remain popular (and influential) with young TV viewers. The plain lesson is that study and learning—not just of science, but of anything—are avoidable, even undesirable. We’ve arranged a global civilization in which most crucial elements—transportation, communications, and all other industries; agriculture, medicine, education, entertainment, protecting the environment; and even the key democratic institution of voting—profoundly depend on science and technology. We have also arranged things so that almost no one understands science and technology. This is a prescription for disaster. We might get away with it for a while, but sooner or later this combustible mixture of ignorance and power is going to blow up in our faces.