Benz Quotes

Oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz?

There are a number of mechanical devices which increase sexual arousal, particularly in women. Chief among these is the Mercedes-Benz 380SL convertible.

I had met Salvador Domingo Felipe Jacinto Dalí i Domènech, Marquis of Dalí de Púbol, previously in Spain in the company of his pet anteater and a glamorous model called Mercedes Benz.

A black Mercedes Benz 450 SL pulled up. It was your classic hood auto beloved of terrorists, pimps and African dictators.

Take care of your car in the garage, and the car will take care of you on the road.

Mr Benz, the parapet of an Italian bridge doesn’t look like the proper place for you,” said Chase.

Three erotic paintings by Isa - $ 20K; chasing said artist in Benz SLS Coupe - $ 195K; the look on her face right at this moment - PRICELESS.

You lucky my Benz,wasn't parked at the curb, I got shit in my trunk for bitches like you.

One day I hoped some thoughtful historian would point out the close connection between the Mercedes-Benz motor car and Germany’s favorite dictator and that the Lord would find a way to pay these bastards back for their help in bringing the Nazis to power and keeping them there.

You cannot run away from the truth because truth will find you.

I am emotional about engines, if you hurt my car, you hurt my heart.

what ever you do do your best

Ok look man, you clearly are not hard up for money, you’re driving a range rover, so call whoever has your jaguar or benz and ask them to help you out. I got things to do.

Paula laughed, remembering more of her mother's words: Better to be unhappy in a Mercedes-Benz than unhappy on a bus. To which Paula had always responded, I'd rather be happy.

Daimler uses Tesla’s battery packs; Mercedes-Benz uses a Tesla powertrain; Toyota uses a Tesla motor. General Motors has even created a task force to track Tesla’s next moves. But

Asking someone else to drive your sports car is like asking someone else to kiss your girlfriend.

I was in love and my love turned out to be quite mad, and well we know, no candle can compare to fire.

Success should not be based on lavish lifestyles and inflated bank accounts; flaunting your fancy homes and putting your luxuries on display. You can’t build a future on “Bottles” and Benz’s. You can’ retire on rims and Rolexes. You can’t save if you’re always shopping for stilettos. Acquisitions are fleeting. Investments are long-term. A sound future is built on stability, not status.

I had to admit, my little Accord hadn't looked all that great next to the Benzes and Rolls in that garage to begin with, but now that it'd been turned into a mobile tribute to the artistic rendering of Lil' Loco, it stuck out like a Cracker Jack ring in a a Tiffany display.

All billionaire kids have bodyguards--at least that's what Max's dad had told him. But none were more qualified than Logan, who was a martial arts expert (with more black belts than one could count on tne fingers), a stunyt man (who had credits in no less than a dozen blockbuster action movies), a champion race-car driver (with a choice collection of exotic sports cars), and who could make a seriously mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

On the drive to Paris, Michelle barely drew breath, speaking to her uncle about her holiday and pointing out landmarks to Delta. Secretly, Delta was relieved. She needed time to acclimatize to the potent force that was Édouard Valois. Sitting beside him in the front of the black Mercedes-Benz, she was all too aware of his presence: his sheer size, his stunning profile, his elegant hands upon the steering wheel deftly controlling the luxury machine, his dynamic and intriguing personality. He was living, breathing masculine perfection.

Among all the machines, motorcar is my favorite machine.

In the distance, a Benz motor sounds. A neon light wraps itself around the driver and the winter that beats in his heart. His heart stays cold. stays melting.

Your dad gave you a Benz for your seventeenth birthday, and you already totaled it. You know what my pop got me for my seventeenth birthday? A phone call. In February.

Occasionally a red taxi or Mercedes-Benz would squeeze by along the iron fence and burst free, the driver holding down the horn button so furiously that he might detonate the air bag.

The Infinite Release statement in this case can be: “I now release all worries over whether I can afford a Mercedes Benz S500 (or insert any other item you desire) for an infinite number of times until I remain at zero. I release this worry infinitely, as many times as necessary, until I remain at zero.” You repeat this Infinite Release process for each negative block identified.

After that phone call, though, it was a moot issue, and some instinct had sent him in the opposite direction: from the Nazi Mercedes-Benz company to that perfectly all-American anti-Semite Henry Ford.

My mother used to say that if I couldn’t sleep I should count something that matters, anything but sheep. Count stars. Count Mercedes-Benzes. Count U.S. presidents. Count the years you have left to live. I might jump out the window, I thought, if I couldn’t sleep. I pulled the blanket up to my chest. I counted state capitals. I counted different kinds of flowers. I counted shades of blue. Cerulean. Cadet. Electric. Teal. Tiffany. Egyptian. Persian. Oxford. I didn’t sleep. I wouldn’t sleep. I couldn’t. I counted as many kinds of birds as I could think of. I counted TV shows from the eighties. I counted movies set in New York City. I counted famous people who committed suicide: Diane Arbus, the Hemingways, Marilyn Monroe, Sylvia Plath, van Gogh, Virginia Woolf. Poor Kurt Cobain. I counted the times I’d cried since my parents died. I counted the seconds passing. Time could go on forever like this, I thought again. Time would. Infinity loomed consistently and all at once, forever, with or without me. Amen.

Imagine three days of God gone missing. Now, imagine my lifetime of it. Better to build your own sepulcher inside an idling Charger - gorged and crimson. I’d rather roll up on God’s pearly in a blood-red Benz or BMW. Any fancy casket will do.

Everybody who consulted her was, in their way, hurting--even this rich man with his big Mercedes-Benz and his expensive cuff-links. Human hurt was like lightning; it did not choose its targets, but struck, with rough equality and little regard to position, achievement, or moral desert.

The lack of the Holy Spirit's presence and power in the local church today can no longer be accepted. It cannot continue to be "church as usual.

The Secret Keeper holds the power to change everything. That’s why secrets must always be guarded, but when is a secret ever just a secret?

I am so obsessed with the cars that sometimes I feel like my heart is not a muscle, it's an engine.

I think sometimes you get bigger than life and don’t realize the consequences of your decisions,

You don’t want to be hanging around with folks still mad they lost the Civil War.

In contrast to this hellish but magnificent sight, the turbid water brewed a microscopic tale. Here, organic molecules were born from lightning flashes and cosmic rays, and they collided, fused, broke apart again—a long-lasting game played with building blocks for five hundred million years. Finally, a chain of organic molecules, trembling, split into two strands. The strands attracted other molecules around them until two identical copies of the original were made, and these split apart again and replicated themselves.… In this game of building blocks, the probability of producing such a self-replicating chain of organic molecules was so minuscule that it was as if a tornado had picked up a pile of metallic trash and deposited it as a fully-assembled Mercedes-Benz. But it happened, and so, a breathtaking history of 3.5 billion years had begun.

I wanted a monument to myself in granite. I wanted my face in seven different colours. I wanted I LOVE YOU in giant red letters on top of the Museum of Modern Art. I wanted a new bridge across the Hudson in my name. I wanted a three-volume history of the Greeks dedicated to my memory. I wanted a filmed version of my life in Ektachrome Commercial. I wanted the Mercedes-Benz no longer to be for Mercedes. But I have small breasts.

I zoned out while staring at the bright jade beads that clung to her neck on a twist of thick silver. They looked expensive. Probably a gift after one of Tobias’s infidelities. I wanted that timeline: tennis bracelet for the bartender at King Size, a Mercedes-Benz S-Class for the stripper in Basel, an Oscar de la Renta gown after the stewardess over the Atlantic – or more likely Claire had a contract drawn up demanding a cheque be deposited in her personal bank account for each indiscretion.

Maiha “Allow me to introduce you to the Children of Mars. On lead guitar and eight barreled Calliope Gatlin, Colonel Fujiyama. On bass and manning the double-barreled thirty millimeter PPC's we have Major Howard. Singing backup and key boards we have Fight Captain Benz with a lovely ten millimeter rapid fire gauss rifle. Her lovely partner Captain Martin on drums with her ten millimeter Hell-bore pulse laser rifle. And singing lead and front man, a true artist with a bang from the Castile sniper rifle, our Big Daddy, Papa of Death and Destruction, the one, the only, the man, the myth, the legend, Lord James Nakatoma- Bailey.” When I finished Alice was giggling out loud.

Ten years ago, when I was living in a small flat above an off-licence in SW1, I learned that the big house next door had been bought by the wife of the dictator of Nicaragua, Anastasio Somoza Debayle. The street was obviously going down in the world, what with the murder of the nanny Sandra Rivett by that nice Lord Lucan at number 44, and I moved out a few months later. I never met Hope Somoza, but her house became notorious in the street for a burglar alarm that went off with surprising frequency, and for the occasional parties that would cause the street to be jammed solid with Rolls—Royce, Mercedes-Benz and Jaguar limousines. Back in Managua, her husband 'Tacho' had taken a mistress, Dinorah, and Hope was no doubt trying to keep her spirits up.

The disease of addiction, for all the pain and damage it causes, is an invitation to see this prodigal God in action. The question is, will we? Will we as the church step out of our comfort zones into uncharted territory that will at times be unpredictable and even scary for us? Or will we, like the older son, gloat, sulk and stomp off in resentment? Would we rather be party poopers or partygoers, estranged children or reconciled ones?

As expected, Nevada’s summer heat was oppressive; temperatures under the desert sun bubbled around the 130-degree mark, which made it even harder for Monroe and almost everyone except [Clark] Gable to put in a full day’s work. Though he had a chauffeured limousine at his disposal, he drove himself back and forth to work in his silver Mercedes-Benz SC. He always arrived punctually at eight-forty-five A.M., bringing along gallon Thermoses of booze-spiked lemonade and iced tea to fortify himself. For the better part of the morning, he would sit around studying that day’s script pages or gabbing with the crew while waiting for the other principals to arrive. Though the delays were driving him mad, he tried not to show it. But one day while his writer-friend John Lee Mahin was visiting from Los Angeles, Gable told him, “It’s not professional, John, it’s stealing. It’s stealing the bank’s money and United Artists’ money. I don’t see how they’re going to get a picture out of this, but I’m stuck with it now, and I’m trying to do the best I can. It’s been hard on me.

So now I was a beauty editor. In some ways, I looked the part of Condé Nast hotshot—or at least I tried to. I wore fab Dior slap bracelets and yellow plastic Marni dresses, and I carried a three-thousand-dollar black patent leather Lanvin tote that Jean had plunked down on my desk one afternoon. (“This is . . . too shiny for me,” she’d explained.) My highlights were by Marie Robinson at Sally Hershberger Salon in the Meatpacking District; I had a chic lavender pedicure—Versace Heat Nail Lacquer V2008—and I smelled obscure and expensive, like Susanne Lang Midnight Orchid and Colette Black Musk Oil. But look closer. I was five-four and ninety-seven pounds. The aforementioned Lanvin tote was full of orange plastic bottles from Rite Aid; if you looked at my hands digging for them, you’d see that my fingernails were dirty, and that the knuckle on my right hand was split from scraping against my front teeth. My chin was broken out from the vomiting. My self-tanner was uneven because I always applied it when I was strung out and exhausted—to conceal the exhaustion, you see—and my skin underneath the faux-glow was full-on Corpse Bride. A stylist had snipped out golf-ball-size knots that had formed at the back of my neck when I was blotto on tranquilizers for months and stopped combing my hair. My under-eye bags were big enough to send down the runway at Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week: I hadn’t slept in days. I hadn’t slept for more than a few hours at a time in months. And I hadn’t slept without pills in years. So even though I wrote articles about how to take care of yourself—your hair, your skin, your nails—I was falling apart.

Damn It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta Verse 1 Damn it feels good to be a gangsta A real gangsta-ass nigga plays his cards right A real gangsta-ass nigga never runs his f**kin mouth Cuz real gangsta-ass niggas don't start fights And niggas always gotta high cap Showin' all his boys how he shot em But real gangsta-ass niggas don't flex nuts Cuz real gangsta-ass niggas know they got em And everythings cool in the mind of a gangsta Cuz gangsta-ass niggas think deep Up three-sixty-five a year 24/7 Cuz real gangsta ass niggas don't sleep And all I gotta say to you Wannabe, gonnabe, cocksuckin', pussy-eatin' prankstas 'Cause when the fire dies down what the f**k you gonna do Damn it feels good to be a gangsta Verse 2 Damn it feels good to be a gangsta Feedin' the poor and helpin out with their bills Although I was born in Jamaica Now I'm in the US makin' deals Damn it feels good to be a gangsta I mean one that you don't really know Ridin' around town in a drop-top Benz Hittin' switches in my black six-fo' Now gangsta-ass niggas come in all shapes and colors Some got killed in the past But this gangtsa here is a smart one Started living for the lord and I last Now all I gotta say to you Wannabe, gonnabe, pussy-eatin' cocksuckin' prankstas When the sh*t jumps off what the f**k you gonna do Damn it feels good to be a gangsta Verse 3 Damn it feels good to be a gangsta A real gangta-ass nigga knows the play Real gangsta-ass niggas get the flyest of the b**ches Ask that gangsta-ass nigga Little Jake Now b**ches look at gangsta-ass niggas like a stop sign And play the role of Little Miss Sweet But catch the b**ch all alone get the digit take her out and then dump-hittin' the ass with the meat Cuz gangsta-ass niggas be the gang playas And everythings quiet in the clique A gangsta-ass nigga pulls the trigger And his partners in the posse ain't tellin' off sh*t Real gangsta-ass niggas don't talk much All ya hear is the black from the gun blast And real gangsta-ass niggas don't run for sh*t Cuz real gangsta-ass niggas can't run fast Now when you in the free world talkin' sh*t do the sh*t Hit the pen and let the mothaf**kas shank ya But niggas like myself kick back and peep game Cuz damn it feels good to be a gangsta Verse 4 And now, a word from the President! Damn it feels good to be a gangsta Gettin voted into the White House Everything lookin good to the people of the world But the Mafia family is my boss So every now and then I owe a favor gettin' down like lettin' a big drug shipment through And send 'em to the poor community So we can bust you know who So voters of the world keep supportin' me And I promise to take you very far Other leaders better not upset me Or I'll send a million troops to die at war To all you Republicans, that helped me win I sincerely like to thank you Cuz now I got the world swingin' from my nuts And damn it feels good to be a gangsta

Keharusan selalu membuat kita berkembang, dan memandang ke masa depan adalah sebuah keharusan.

In this game of building blocks, the probability of producing such a self-replicating chain of organic molecules was so minuscule that it was as if a tornado had picked up a pile of metallic trash and deposited it as a fully-assembled Mercedes-Benz.

Jewish efforts to extract even modest restitution payments for work performed by concentration camp inmates for prominent companies such as Messerschmitt, Ernst Heinkel, and others continue to be rejected by those corporations. The same is true of German construction companies such as Philipp Holzmann, which has repeatedly been identified by survivors as a major beneficiary of forced labor. Holzmann refuses to pay restitution and continues to enjoy contracts all over the world.15 Even those companies that have made some form of welcome restitution—Daimler Benz being the most recent case—go to considerable lengths to deny any culpability whatsoever for the Holocaust, portraying their payments to their former slaves as a form of charity.16

bed biting my nails and damn near in tears. Part of me wanted to just tell him what was about to happen so that he could prepare himself. Yet, I couldn’t figure out who I owed my loyalty to. Benz,

İki Avustralyalı gezgin 1912’de Çin’in Xi’an eyaletine yaptıkları bir gezide burada Mısır Piramitlerine benze büyük bir piramit keşfetmişlerdir. Daha sonra 1945 yılında, 2. Dünya Savaşı sırasında Çin’e yardım malzemesi götüren bir C-54 uçağından Çin’in Xi’an şehrinin 100 km güneybatısındaki bu büyük piramit fark edilmiş ve ilk kez fotoğrafı çekilmiştir. Bu esrarengiz piramide “Beyaz Piramit” adı verilmiştir. BEYAZ PİRAMİT’in bu ilk fotoğrafı 1957 yılında Life dergisinde yayınlanmıştır. …. 5000 yıllık Çin metinlerinde bu piramitten söz edilmektedir. Ön-Türk araştırmacısı Kazım Mirşan, bu piramitlerin MÖ 7000’lerde dikildiğini iddia etmektedir. …. Beyaz Pirramit konusunda çalışmalar yapan Ön-Türk araştırmacısı Haluk Tarcan, bu uygarlık harikası hakkında şu bilgileri vermektedir: “… Bu piramidin yüksekliğinin 300 metre olmasını hayretle karşıladım ve New York’ta öğrencim Levent Alaybeyoğlu’ndan tamamlayıcı bilgi rica ettim. Piramit gerçekten 300 metre yüksekliğindedir. Yani Eyfel Kulesi yüksekliğine varan bir tepe halindedir. Hausdof’un verdiği bilgiye göre tarih MÖ 2500’ler olacaktır. Çin’de Ön-Türkler MÖ 3000’lerde devlet kurmuş olup Çin tarihi MÖ 1700’lerde başladığına göre bu piramidin ve etrafındakilerin Ön-Türklerce yapılmış olmaları gerekmektedir.” … Mısır’daki firavunlar dönemiyle neredeyse çağdaş sayılabilecek zamanlarda (MÖ2852-2206) arasında Çin’de yarı mitolojik “Beş Kral” hüküm sürmüştü. Çin bu dönemde altın ve yeşim zengini, gelişmiş bir uygarlıktı; ipek ve gıda bolluğu içindeydi. Bununla birlikte, İskenderiye’nin büyük kütüphanesinin kaderini takiben, İmparator Chin Shin Huang MÖ2012’de kadim Çin’le ilgili bütün kitapların ve edebi eserlerin yakılmasını emretmişti. Büyük kraliyet kütüphanesi de dâhil bütün kütüphaneler yok edilmiş ancak bazı metinler mağaralarda ve manastırlarda saklanmıştı. …. Peki, ama Çinli İmparator neden bütün tarihi eve edebi eserleri yok etme kararı almıştı? İmparatorun gelecek nesillerden saklamak istediği neydi? …. Çinli yetkililer Xi’an’daki piramitleri dünyadan saklayabilmek için piramitlerin üzerlerine sürekli yeşil kalan ağaçlar dikmişlerdir. Böylece yıllar sonra üzeri ormanla kaplı tepeciklere dönüşecek olan bu uygarlık şaheserleri belki yüz yıl daha insanlığın bilgisinden uzak tutulacaktır. Peki, ama neden? Neden Çin Xİ’an piramitlerini saklamaktadır. Neden Çin bu uygarlık şaheserlerini dünyaya tanıtmamaktadır. Eğer bu piramitler Çinlilere ait olsaydı, Çinliler kendi uygarlıklarının derinliğini dünyaya anlatabilmek ve bölgeye daha fazla turist çekebilmek için, bırakın üzerlerine ağaç dikmeyi, her piramidin her taşını tek tek parlatır, bu şaheserleri dünyanın beğenisine sunarlardı. Ama bugün bu bölgeler Çin’in yasak bölgeleridir. Sayfa: 270-273

Benz is short for benzodiazepine. It’s an anti-anxiety and depression med. Small white pills?” “A lovely shade of robin’s-egg blue, actually.” “Huh,” says Charlotte. “So it was a street drug, not a prescription.

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People were dreaming the dream along with him; they were worrying, worrying helpfully, over its details. Take the man who wanted more taxis. He’d noticed that the Draft guaranteed an automobile for every family, and not just any automobile either but one which, like all material blessings of full communism, would be ‘of considerably higher quality than the best products of capitalism’. All well and good; but where would they be parked, these Zhigulis so creamily powerful they put Porsche to shame, these Ladas purring more quietly than any Rolls-Royce, these Volgas whose doors clunked shut with a heavy perfection that reduced Mercedes-Benz to impotent envy? Had the Party considered the number of garages that would be required? The ‘deleterious effect on the hygienic conditions of city life’? The extra roadworks?

No one thinks twice if you date a fugly guy who has a great sense of humor! So if keys to the Benz is your love language, do you!

Man, because he sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived.

..We were born in 1948. Do you believe in nakath?’ Any musician or sportsperson worth their sweat will tell you that timing is all. Aside from believing in yakas and curses, Lankans also believe in nakath, in the auspiciousness of time, extending Feng Shui to the passing of moments. On Sinhala and Tamil New Year, if you face west and light a lamp at 6.48 a.m., you will receive joy; if you face north and spark up at 7.03 a.m., the sky will fall. ‘I don’t believe in nakath.’ ‘How does 1948 sound to you? Auspicious or suspicious?’ ... ‘You watch your mouth. Do you know which countries were born in 1948?’ The Benz halts in traffic, but there are winds in every direction. ‘If this land is cursed, it is because of men like Wijeratne and Solomon Dias. And because of those who protect them,’ you call out, emboldened by the distance between the creature and you. The creature yells out the names of five countries. And the Benz disappears with the gargoyle on its hood. ‘I’ll be watching you,’ it snarls and you see it no more. But the five names that it called out echo in your ears. ‘Burma. Israel. North Korea. Apartheid South Africa. Sri Lanka. All born in ’48.’ It doesn’t matter if Maali Almeida believes in nakath or not. Because it appears that the universe most certainly does.

The biggest brands in our lives today tend to be either long established or more recent, such as the classics Nestlé (1866), Mercedes-Benz (1886), Coca-Cola (1892), Gillette (1895) and Kellogg’s (1906). However, the most interesting and exciting brands are often seen to be those which have emerged since the 1990s, such as Amazon.com in 1994, Google in 1998 and Facebook in 2004.

Addiction recovery is more than a referral to the closest AA group. It is a one-of-a-kind opportunity for a whole community of wayward children to be transformed by the grace of a wildly-in-love-with-you God.

getting an addict into recovery is as much about getting recovery into the church.

The question is not whether you will encounter addicted people, but how you will respond when you encounter them.

Secrets hold the power to change everything, which is why they must always be concealed. But secrets can never truly be hidden and when they’re revealed, brace yourself.” DJ Benz

EVERY FEW WEEKS AND SOMETIMES MORE OFTEN THAN THAT, the Benzes would receive in the postbox affixed to the wall outside their front door a notice printed on a half-size sheet of white paper, bordered in a bold black line. They were death announcements. Ein Bestattungsanzeige. The postman delivered them along with the mail whenever a Dietlikon resident died. It was a small-town courtesy, not a typical Swiss practice.

Andere

where Jesus is, there the church can be also.

If the epidemic of addiction in America is a sobering commentary about the state of our collective soul, the recovery movement bears witness to something else: that the kingdom of the prodigal God is alive and well outside the four walls of the church—proclaiming good news to the poor, setting the captives free and opening the eyes of the blind.4

They were nothing more than modern day pagan worshippers. Congregants of a religion built on greed and hedonism. The trading floor served as their shrine; the phones as their Holy Grail; and the clients as the prophets who would entitle them to choose between putting the next down payment on a Lamborghini or a Mercedes

When addicts are not just the heroin pushers or prescription pill junkies “out there,” but are in our pews and among us, we are in the right position to begin helping addicts step into recovery.

Transformation happens when we see our own crippling brokenness and need for God’s grace in the face and story of the addict in front of us. When addicts are not just the heroin pushers or prescription pill junkies “out there,” but are in our pews and among us, we are in the right position to begin helping addicts step into recovery. And this identification can’t be emphasized enough: my own secret cravings, patterns of self-destructive behavior and unchecked forms of consumption (of money, power, approval—you name it) may not manifest themselves in quite the same way as those of the crack addict in front of me, but they fall within the same realm of human bondage. So getting addicts into recovery means first standing in solidarity with addicts, recognizing that their plight and their stories are hitched to our own and in many ways are similar.

Historians estimate that the average annual income in Italy around the year 1300 was roughly $1,600. Some 600 years later – after Columbus, Galileo, Newton, the Scientific Revolution, the Reformation and the Enlightenment, the invention of gunpowder, printing, and the steam engine – it was … still $1,600.3 Six hundred years of civilization, and the average Italian was pretty much where he’d always been. It was not until about 1880, right around the time Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone, Thomas Edison patented his lightbulb, Carl Benz was tinkering with his first car, and Josephine Cochrane was ruminating on what may just be the most brilliant idea ever – the dishwasher – that our Italian peasant got swept up in the march of progress. And what a wild ride it has been. The past two centuries have seen explosive growth in both population and prosperity worldwide. Per capita income is now ten times what it was in 1850. The average Italian is fifteen times as wealthy as in 1880. And the global economy? It is now 250 times what it was before the Industrial Revolution – when nearly everyone, everywhere was still poor, hungry, dirty, afraid, stupid, sick, and ugly.

Myron parked next to a black BMW. There were maybe a dozen other cars, all glistening from fresh washes and waxes or perhaps they were all new. Mostly Mercedes Benzes. A few BMWs. A Bentley. A Jag. A Rolls. Myron’s Taurus stood out like a zit in a Revlon commercial. The

I love the wheels, I mean steering wheel.

Benz and Scoop never hurt anyone during these stick ups. They were hustlers, not murderers. The closest they got to guns were while using one as a scare tactic during a robbery.

Sometimes Roxie’s money hunger and elementary schoolgirl crush on Benz got on my nerves.

Benz, Scoop, and Roxie were gone. They used me to get ahead and left me in this prison to serve their time. I

She saw them as she approached, exactly as described. Small men, wiry, bearded, dark haired and dark skinned. They had overalls unbuttoned to the waist, with undershirts beneath, and ear defenders around their necks, and elbow protectors around their elbows, and knee protectors around their knees, and see-through ID panels around their biceps, all items firmly held in place with thick elastic straps. The IDs were from the airport. The bearers worked for a freight forwarding company known to have excellent relationships with the cargo divisions of many Middle Eastern sovereign airlines. The messenger said, “The Mercedes-Benz was named for a customer’s daughter.

My life has certainly had its share of remarkable patterns, symmetries and asymmetries, coincidences that have left me wondering on the ground just what my life looks like from a distance—seen from the air, does it reveal a scheme? I have heard myself mulling over this question many times while growing up. But now that I’m well into middle age and have reached the age my mother was when one son’s illness ensnared a second one, I look down from the air and am astonished at the landscape.

But their chauffeur knew exactly where they were, and how much distance was required to bring the Benz to a halt. With the expertise of a Hollywood stunt driver, the butler wrenched the wheel and nailed the brakes, bringing them to a park between a GTO Trez had an immediate hard-on for…and a Hummer that looked like an abstract sculpture rather than anything that was drivable. “Maybe he made his mistakes on that one,” Trez said dryly.

The Dalai Lama was once asked, “What surprises you most about humanity?” “Man, because he sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived.

Powers II is a huge helicopter that comfortably seats my family. It’s a Mercedes-Benz EC145 and has eight comfortable leather seats. After Tracee gets on, I help Rhian in first then I follow. Her beautiful eyes scan the entire interior before she finally sits.

8:” I scrawled slowly. “Stepping out of your comfort zone is far greater than the comfort itself.

Komorebi. It means “sunlight coming through the trees”.

There were a few cars in the driveway, two Benz's and a Rolls Royce Wraith. "Yo, you think you bought one of them or all of them?" Justice asked and Keem burst out laughing.

When you drive a Mercedes Benz, not a single person will ever ask you about your education

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a list of people who drive Mercedes-Benzes, and he checks to see if they have made up for it by being kind to people.

I was to inherit them, the legacy unfurling before me this way: you worked from before sunrise to the dead of night. You were never unkind in your dealings, but then you were not generous. Your family was your life, though you rarely saw them. You kept close handsome sums of cash in small denominations. You were steadily cornering the market in self-pride. You drove a Chevy and then a Caddy and then a Benz. You never missed a mortgage payment or a day of church. You prayed furiously until you wept. You considered the only unseen forces to be those of capitalism and the love of Jesus Christ.

Yorgun “Benz”, Sultan Aziz tarafından 1800'lerde yaptırıldığı için onun adıyla anılan Aziziye Karakolu'nu geçip dar ve bozuk yoldan sarsıla sarsıla Bebek'e ulaşır. Birkaç dakika sonra da Aşiyan'a sapan dik yokuşun başına. İki arkadaş: — Buradan sonrasını yürüyeceğiz... diyerek arabadan inerler. Otomobilin çıkamayacağı bakımsız ve daracık yokuşu tırmanırken Paşa'nın yaveri de biraz geriden onları izlemektedir. Mustafa Kemal, koluna girdiği, Harbiye'den manej hocasına yüreğinin derinliklerinden gelen bir sesle Fikret'e olan sevgisini anlatır: — Ben inkılâp ruhunu ondan aldım. Ziyaret edeceğim yerlerin başında elbette Aşiyan gelir! Bir de sır verir hocasına bu yokuşta: — Yakında Anadolu'ya gidiyorum! Sen ne dersin? Hocası cevap verir: — Daha ne duruyorsun?.. Kim bilir? Mustafa Kemal memleketi kurtarma kararını ilk kez belki de Fikret'in katına tırmanırken açıklamaktadır. Aşiyan'a çıkılır, saygı duruşunda bulunulur ve bu tarihî ziyaret, anı defterindeki, şair yazar ve gazeteci Süleyman Nazif (1869-1927) tarafından anlamlı ve edebî bir üslûpla kaleme alınıp şair ve yazar kardeşi Faik Ali'nin (Ozansoy, 1876-1950) yanı sıra Mustafa Kemal Paşa tarafından da imzalanan şu kısa fakat düşündürücü tümceyle ölümsüzleştirilir. “ 'Tavâf-ı tahatturunda bulunmakla mübâhi perestişkâran-ı Fikret.' Mustafa Kemal-Süleyman Nazif-Faik Ali, 19 ağustos 1918”* Bugünün Türkçesiyle “Anısı çevresinde bulunmakla övünen, Fikret'i taparcasına sevenler.” *Mustafa Baydar, Varlık dergisi, 15 aralık 1967.

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Intruders can rig your private elevator easier than stealing a Mercedes-Benz.

In 1977 GM’s Oldsmobile Toronado was the first production car with an electronic control unit (ECU) to govern spark timing. Four years later GM had about 50,000 lines of engine control software code in its domestic car line (Madden 2015). Now even inexpensive cars have up to 50 ECUs, and some premium brands (including the Mercedes-Benz S class) have up to 100 networked ECUs supported by software containing close to 100 million lines—compared to 5.7 million lines of software needed to operate the F-35, the U.S. Air Force’s joint Strike Fighter, or 6.5 million lines for the Boeing 787, the latest model of the company’s commercial jetliners (Charette 2009).

I was blindly heading down one path, unaware, sleepwalking, stepping but not feeling the ground, looking but not really seeing.

I had spent the last several months trying to forge a better relationship with myself, my goals, my expectations, what I valued, and where I spent my time and energy. I hoped to use the trail as a reconditioning tool, to stop looking so far ahead and find true pleasure in the present moment. I had steeped myself in knowledge of the great masters, sayings like “To travel well is better than to arrive,” and, “The journey is the reward." I was shedding my life of destinations with only a bare tolerance for the journeys between them.

What had I actually left an entire life behind for? I couldn’t put those words together, not here in these first steps on the trail. I’ve come here to figure out what I came here for, I settled on and kept stepping.

But what happens when we follow that template only to realize everything we were told we should want isn’t actually what we do want?

I remember just standing there alone in our empty home. All I could think was how big it was, how all my time had gone into being able to afford it but rarely ever enjoy it.

I was simply moving at a pace that never allowed for self-reflection, to check in and ask those critical questions: “Who am I? What do I think about all this going on around me? What should I do about it?

I had been driving ninety down the highway of my life, white-knuckled, eyes trained on the little white stripes… never seeing all the beautiful trees and towns I was passing.

It wasn't actually being on the trail that made me truly free. I don't want anyone to read this and believe that they have to hike the Appalachian Trail in order to find themselves. It also wasn't ending my marriage or leaving my career, though I do believe those things were a necessary part of my journey of change and rediscovery. The true key was the mindset I learned to adopt, one amplified by the trail. It was the ability to appreciate the current moment, the willingness to be in it, and taking it in at the speed the moment required.

I had needed to break up the life I was living in order to see all the pieces of me and begin to understand them again. Only then could I begin to put them back together in a better form.

Standing three hundred miles from Springer Mountain after hiking for three weeks, this work-in-progress version of me knew there was immense value in enduring hardship, pushing myself toward what I believed were my limits, and seeing myself burst through the other side of them.

Money was only a tool, a very useful one, but nothing more than that—a thing to bring value, not a value in itself.