Bermuda Quotes

He'd changed since the last summer. Instead of Bermuda shorts and a T-shirt, he wore a button-down shirt, khaki pants, and leather loafers. His sandy hair, which used to be so unruly, was now clipped short. He look like an evil male model, showing off what the fashionable college-age villain was wearing to Harvard this year.

Alec: Catarina made up the Bermuda Triangle? Magnus: Don't be ridiculous, Alexander. That was Ragnor.

Don't you believe in flying saucers, they ask me? Don't you believe in telepathy? — in ancient astronauts? — in the Bermuda triangle? — in life after death? No, I reply. No, no, no, no, and again no. One person recently, goaded into desperation by the litany of unrelieved negation, burst out "Don't you believe in anything?" Yes", I said. "I believe in evidence. I believe in observation, measurement, and reasoning, confirmed by independent observers. I'll believe anything, no matter how wild and ridiculous, if there is evidence for it. The wilder and more ridiculous something is, however, the firmer and more solid the evidence will have to be.

Our Nora has a magic pussy. It’s the opposite of the Bermuda Triangle. Lost men sail into it and then find themselves.

..Cinta itu sesuatu yang misterius. Lebih misterius dari segitiga bermuda atau puncak gunung himalaya. Kita gak akan bisa menduganya..

The door opened, and we were met by a fifty-something man with a grizzled blond beard. He was wearing Bermuda shorts and a Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt. Also, he had an eye patch. "This is incredible," I heard Adrian murmur. "Beyond my wildest dreams.

Calm down, man, the wedding isn’t off,” Luke announced. “It is,” Ava retorted angrily, whirling on her man. “It isn’t,” Luke replied calmly, staring down his nose at his woman. “Are you going to dance with me?” she asked. “Vertically?” he asked back, and I pressed my lips together in order not to laugh. “Yes!” she snapped. “Yeah, baby,” he said. “I’ll dance with you vertically, in the bathroom on the plane on the way to Bermuda.

In fact, I think that’s probably what the Bermuda Triangle is up to. It doesn’t mean to do any harm, and it’s actually pretty nice once you get to know it. It’s just that Bermuda doesn’t know how to handle itself when somebody sails into its territory, because that hardly ever happens.

Afternoons are the Bermuda Triangles of our days. Across many domains, the trough represents a danger zone for productivity, ethics, and health.

Funny, reely," he said. "You spend your whole life goin' to school and learnin' stuff, and they never tell you about stuff like the Bermuda Triangle and UFOs and all these Old Masters running around the inside of the Earth. Why do we have to learn boring stuff when there's all this brilliant stuff we could be learnin', that's what I want to know.

I was a wrecked thing smeared over with dark finger marks and stuck with shards of nightmare, and I had no right there any more. I moved through my lost life like a ghost, trying not to touch anything with my bleeding hands, and dreamed of learning to sail in a warm place, Bermuda or Bondi, and telling people sweet soft lies about my past.

I can't help it that this is the Bermuda Triangle-she pointed at her crotch-when guys venture there, they tend to stay. I tapped my chin. Oh, I thought you called it that because it's sucked in lots of seamen.

My thing is a Mystery and not just a Mystery, but Bermuda--no sun, only Triangle. Unknowable. Unsolvable.

ditembakkan dari pelir barracuda yang lolos api, tubuhnya penuh runcing seperti penggaris 16 centi ke atas terus ke atas melewati loronglorong rusak yang pengap akan tetesan air amis. terbuka menganga, lurus terus maju tanpa mundur memasuki sorga yang hilang di Bermuda kecil warna-warni logo bungabungaan yang diracuni bensin dan mungkin sundutan rokok tengik. owalah...rambutrambut keriting siapa ini disepahkan mulut lebar ikan lonte di danau sebelah utara?

I'm making out with a dead girl in my dreams. I'm screwing women I have no business screwing. I'm pushing away the one person who actually gives a damn about me. It's like the Bermuda Triangle of heartache and I'm sinking fast.

Ty tapped Nick's knee. "Do you really want him left behind knowing you did this? It can wait until we get back." "Just stop talking, Beaumont," Nick grunted. "You're like the Bermuda Triangle of morals." Zane snorted and covered it with a cough.

I hear You saying to me: "I will give you what you desire. I will lead you into solitude. I will lead you by the way that you cannot possibly understand, because I want it to be the quickest way. "Therefore all the things around you will be armed against you, to deny you, to hurt you, to give you pain, and therefore to reduce you to solitude. "Because of their enmity, you will soon be left alone. They will cast you out and forsake you and reject you and you will be alone. "Everything that touches you shall burn you, and you will draw your hand away in pain, until you have withdrawn yourself from all things. Then you will be all alone. "Everything that can be desired will sear you, and brand you with a cautery, and you will fly from it in pain, to be alone. Every created joy will only come to you as pain, and you will die to all joy and be left alone. All the good things that other people love and desire and seek will come to you, but only as murderers to cut you off from the world and its occupations. "You will be praised, and it will be like burning at the stake. You will be loved, and it will murder your heart and drive you into the desert. "You will have gifts, and they will break you with their burden. You will have pleasures of prayer, and they will sicken you and you will fly from them. "And when you have been praised a little and loved a little I will take away all your gifts and all your love and all your praise and you will be utterly forgotten and abandoned and you will be nothing, a dead thing, a rejection. And in that day you shall being to possess the solitude you have so long desired. And your solitude will bear immense fruit in the souls of men you will never see on earth. "Do not ask when it will be or where it will be or how it will be: On a mountain or in a prison, in a desert or in a concentration camp or in a hospital or at Gethsemani. It does not matter. So do not ask me, because I am not going to tell you. You will not know until you are in it. "But you shall taste the true solitude of my anguish and my poverty and I shall lead you into the high places of my joy and you shall die in Me and find all things in My mercy which has created you for this end and brought you from Prades to Bermuda to St. Antonin to Oakham to London to Cambridge to Rome to New York to Columbia to Corpus Christi to St. Bonaventure to the Cistercian Abbey of the poor men who labor in Gethsemani: "That you may become the brother of God and learn to know the Christ of the burnt men.

Like the Bermuda triangle, she swallowed her victims whole.

Human beings had polluted the seawater and mechanically destroyed the nearby coast; all life had paid this price. Often, in airports, on sidewalks, at restaurants, children and adults alike stop me to ask about barracuda and sharks; killer whales; the deadly sorcery of the Bermuda Triangle; the Loch Ness Monster. When I saw Le Veyron, I believed that the sea’s most monstrous force doesn’t live in Loch Ness. It lives in us.

A woman calls from Seaview to say her linen closet is missing. Last September, her house had six bedrooms, two linen closets. She's sure of it. Now she's only got one. She comes to open her beach house for the summer. She drives out from the city with the kids and the nanny and the dog, and here they are with all heir luggage, and their towels are gone. Disappeared. Poof. Bermuda triangulated.

The marketing people are always talking about something called 'consumers'. I have this image of a fat little man in baggy Bermuda shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and a straw hat with beer-can openers dangling from it, clutching fistfuls of dollars.

His face searching the bus windows looked expectant, impatient, and a little anxious. It was a husband's face. Familiar, known, increasing beloved. Mary Ann, I reflected, had an awful lot to learn. And actually, I reflected, I wouldn't be in her shoes right now for all the flowers in Bermuda...having it all to learn again.

There isn’t anything about me that is analogous to the Bermuda Triangle’s “rogue wave” phenomenon (at least I hope there isn’t). I don’t capsize sailors, much less entire ships. I keep myself to myself, you know? In fact, I think that’s probably what the Bermuda Triangle is up to. It doesn’t mean to do any harm, and it’s actually pretty nice once you get to know it. It’s just that Bermuda doesn’t know how to handle itself when somebody sails into its territory, because that hardly ever happens. It hasn’t had much chance to practice, and it’s used to things going a certain way. So if a sailor DOES come around, it gets a little nervous, freaks the fuck out, and creates hurricane-like devastation in every direction around it. And then it gets embarrassed and sad and calls its friends.

Wisdom is really the key to wealth. With great wisdom, comes great wealth and success. Rather than pursuing wealth, pursue wisdom. The aggressive pursuit of wealth can lead to disappointment. Wisdom is defined as the quality of having experience, and being able to discern or judge what is true, right, or lasting. Wisdom is basically the practical application of knowledge. Rich people have small TVs and big libraries, and poor people have small libraries and big TVs. Become completely focused on one subject and study the subject for a long period of time. Don't skip around from one subject to the next. The problem is generally not money. Jesus taught that the problem was attachment to possessions and dependence on money rather than dependence on God. Those who love people, acquire wealth so they can give generously. After all, money feeds, shelters, and clothes people. They key is to work extremely hard for a short period of time (1-5 years), create abundant wealth, and then make money work hard for you through wise investments that yield a passive income for life. Don't let the opinions of the average man sway you. Dream, and he thinks you're crazy. Succeed, and he thinks you're lucky. Acquire wealth, and he thinks you're greedy. Pay no attention. He simply doesn't understand. Failure is success if we learn from it. Continuing failure eventually leads to success. Those who dare to fail miserably can achieve greatly. Whenever you pursue a goal, it should be with complete focus. This means no interruptions. Only when one loves his career and is skilled at it can he truly succeed. Never rush into an investment without prior research and deliberation. With preferred shares, investors are guaranteed a dividend forever, while common stocks have variable dividends. Some regions with very low or no income taxes include the following: Nevada, Texas, Wyoming, Delaware, South Dakota, Cyprus, Liechtenstein, Luxembourg, Panama, San Marino, Seychelles, Isle of Man, Channel Islands, Curaçao, Bahamas, British Virgin Islands, Brunei, Monaco, Qatar, United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Bermuda, Kuwait, Oman, Andorra, Cayman Islands, Belize, Vanuatu, and Campione d'Italia. There is only one God who is infinite and supreme above all things. Do not replace that infinite one with finite idols. As frustrated as you may feel due to your life circumstances, do not vent it by cursing God or unnecessarily uttering his name. Greed leads to poverty. Greed inclines people to act impulsively in hopes of gaining more. The benefit of giving to the poor is so great that a beggar is actually doing the giver a favor by allowing the person to give. The more I give away, the more that comes back. Earn as much as you can. Save as much as you can. Invest as much as you can. Give as much as you can.

There is nothing right about the triangle known as Bermuda. The only thing right is the knowledge you’ll be left behind if you try to rack up the Bermuda Triangle.

Afternoons are the Bermuda Triangles of our days

Francie thought that all the books in the world were in that library and she had a plan about reading all the books in the world. She was reading a book a day in alphabetical order and not skipping the dry ones. She remembered that the first author had been Abbott. She had been reading a book a day for a long time now and she was still in the B’s. Already she had read about bees and buffaloes, Bermuda vacations and Byzantine architecture. For all of her enthusiasm, she had to admit that some of the B’s had been hard going. But Francie was a reader. She read everything she could find: trash, classics, time tables and the grocer’s price list. Some

Three of the revolutions," Bermuda said, "the French, the Russian, and the American, were true only in the beginning. Just true in the beginning, man." "True?" "True to the people, you know...Afterwards, they forgot their roots, man, and the revolutions went off the track. They turned into huge bureaucracies and administrations.

You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood, back home to romantic love, back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame, back home to exile, to escape to Europe and some foreign land, back home to lyricism, to singing just for singing's sake, back home to aestheticism, to one's youthful idea of "the artist" and the all-sufficiency of "art" and "beauty" and "love," back home to the ivory tower, back home to places in the country, to the cottage in Bermuda, away from all the strife and conflict of the world, back home to the father you have lost and have been looking for, back home to someone who can help you, save you, ease the burden for you, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time--back home to the escapes of Time and Memory. In a way, the phrase summed up everything he had ever learned.

suit. He was reading The Wall Street Journal. The lady across the table was probably Mrs. Dare, though all I could see of her were hot pink fingernails and the cover of Condé Nast Traveler. Why she’d be reading about vacations while she was on vacation, I wasn’t sure. Rachel stood at the porch railing and sighed. She wore Bermuda shorts and her Van Gogh T-shirt. (Yeah, Rachel was trying to teach me about art, but don’t get too impressed. I only remembered the dude’s name because he cut his ear off.)

Open-faced sandwiches with the meat married to toasted buns and the flavor garnished rather than suppressed by scraped Bermuda onion and thin-sliced dill, a salad made from things she had scrounged out of his refrigerator, potatoes crisp but not vulcanized.

All over Atlanta that fall, in the blue twilights, girls came clicking home from their jobs in their clunky heels and miniskirts and opened their apartment windows to the winesap air, and got out ice cubes, and put on Petula Clark singing 'Downtown', and sat down to wait. Soon the young men would come, drifting out of their bachelor apartments in Bermuda shorts and Topsiders, carrying beers and gin and tonics, looking for a refill and a a date and the keeping of promises that hung in the bronze air like fruit on the eve of ripeness.

It’s just that Bermuda doesn’t know how to handle itself when somebody sails into its territory, because that hardly ever happens. It hasn’t had much chance to practice, and it’s used to things going a certain way. So if a sailor DOES come around, it gets a little nervous, freaks the fuck out, and creates hurricane-like devastation in every direction around it. And then it gets embarrassed and sad and calls its friends.

Gate C22 At gate C22 in the Portland airport a man in a broad-band leather hat kissed a woman arriving from Orange County. They kissed and kissed and kissed. Long after the other passengers clicked the handles of their carry-ons and wheeled briskly toward short-term parking, the couple stood there, arms wrapped around each other like he’d just staggered off the boat at Ellis Island, like she’d been released at last from ICU, snapped out of a coma, survived bone cancer, made it down from Annapurna in only the clothes she was wearing. Neither of them was young. His beard was gray. She carried a few extra pounds you could imagine her saying she had to lose. But they kissed lavish kisses like the ocean in the early morning, the way it gathers and swells, sucking each rock under, swallowing it again and again. We were all watching– passengers waiting for the delayed flight to San Jose, the stewardesses, the pilots, the aproned woman icing Cinnabons, the man selling sunglasses. We couldn’t look away. We could taste the kisses crushed in our mouths. But the best part was his face. When he drew back and looked at her, his smile soft with wonder, almost as though he were a mother still open from giving birth, as your mother must have looked at you, no matter what happened after–if she beat you or left you or you’re lonely now–you once lay there, the vernix not yet wiped off, and someone gazed at you as if you were the first sunrise seen from the Earth. The whole wing of the airport hushed, all of us trying to slip into that woman’s middle-aged body, her plaid Bermuda shorts, sleeveless blouse, glasses, little gold hoop earrings, tilting our heads up.

And if we took away Brian's salary at Schwab and your dad's little allowance, how much money would you have working part-time at that non-profit? Would you be able to afford Bermuda or your two-bedroom in SoHo? Are you more of an adult because two men are giving you the illusion of self-sufficiency?

Sometimes life carries you in different directions and you don’t even realise you’ve gone down a fork in the road; the great GPS of destiny has not followed the planned route and there has been no sign to indicate you’ve passed the point of no return. Life’s Bermuda Triangle is both myth and reality.

We're at a dinner party in an apartment on Rue Paul Valéry between Avenue Foch and Avenue Victor Hugo and it's all rather subdued since a small percentage of the invited guests were blown up in the Ritz yesterday. For comfort people went shopping, which is understandable even if they bought things a little too enthusiastically. Tonight it's just wildflowers and white lilies, just W's Paris bureau chief, Donna Karan, Aerin Lauder, Ines de la Fressange and Christian Louboutin, who thinks I snubbed him and maybe I did but maybe I'm past the point of caring. Just Annette Bening and Michael Stipe in a tomato-red wig. Just Tammy on heroin, serene and glassy-eyed, her lips swollen from collagen injections, beeswax balm spread over her mouth, gliding through the party, stopping to listen to Kate Winslet, to Jean Reno, to Polly Walker, to Jacques Grange. Just the smell of shit, floating, its fumes spreading everywhere. Just another conversation with a chic sadist obsessed with origami. Just another armless man waving a stump and whispering excitedly, "Natasha's coming!" Just people tan and back from the Ariel Sands Beach Club in Bermuda, some of them looking reskinned. Just me, making connections based on fear, experiencing vertigo, drinking a Woo-Woo.

No matter what precautions were taken, socks disappeared into a Bermuda Triangle for socks, a swirling vortex that swallowed one sock at a time, leaving its partner stranded.

Koontz favored sandwiches made out of chunky peanut-butter and Bermuda onions. When Henry heard this he had shuddered and thought: And they say all the crazy people are locked up.

The disadvantage of the beautiful deep ting-tong, ting-tong of the Bermuda carriage bell is that it cannot possibly sound angry, however angrily you may sound it.

She has the magnetism of the Bermuda Triangle, and I’m a lost plane desperate to land.

calling his eyes, smile, and voice her Bermuda Triangle. Any three of those could take her off course,

Everything I do today is for Zahra’s sweet smiles and soft laughs. She has the magnetism of the Bermuda Triangle, and I’m a lost plane desperate to land.

Ick. The only thing worse than ‘silly family time’ was ‘serious family time’, which we’d just entered like it was the Bermuda Triangle.

There was a strange happening during a performance of Elgar's 'Sea Pictures' at a concert hall in Bermuda tonight, when the man playing the triangle disappeared.

It’s only Bermuda, but hey, it’s not Canada.” “That should be a tourism slogan. It’d work for anywhere. ‘Come to West Shittyville, Ohio. There’s nothin’ to do, but at least it ain’t Canada.

She took out avocados, tomatoes, a Bermuda onion, and a container of cottage cheese. She searched the pantry for cumin, cilantro, garlic. She had two secret ingredients: cottage cheese that gave the guacamole a creamy taste and Hawaiian sea salt. Becky had introduced her to pink Hawaiian sea salt. The grains were like delicate crystals, and Becky used to eat them from the palm of her hand.

Taxation is paying your dues, paying your membership fee in America. If you join a country club or a community center, you pay fees. Why? You did not build the swimming pool. You have to maintain it. You did not build the basketball court. Someone has to clean it. You may not use the squash court, but you still have to pay your dues. Otherwise it won’t be maintained and will fall apart. People who avoid taxes, like corporations that move to Bermuda, are not paying their dues to their country. It is patriotic to be a taxpayer. It is traitorous to desert our country and not pay your dues.

dari kelangkang ini, lumut-lumut hijauku menyeruak melilit ikan-ikan kecil burungburung kecil yang tamasya mendekati sihir kata-kataku. inilah kitab suciku! meledak dalam kesintingan! ditelikung cahaya bulan, sendirian di penjara, dingin yang akrab dan suara-suara jauh dan tikus, dan bayangan kematian, tapi lumut-lumut ini menjangkau ke mana-mana, ke bermuda warna-warni di balik celana para lonte yang bersikukuh menahan imannya dibelit cadar kemunafikan! hurah! taik anjing masuk lobang jadah miliknya: oh, cinta yang menipu! bau tahi asu dari desa terjauh di utara sana, telah menghisapku dan perek-perek terus saja dilahirkan tiap detik.

We were happy when Joe the Retard showed up. He arrived on his mother’s arm, wearing his baggy Bermuda shorts and his blue baseball cap, and as usual he was grinning with the face he shared with every other mongoloid.

Warmth fell over her like a soft rainstorm. They were in a tropical bubble. The frozen ground had turned to warm, yielding sand, and above, a hot, beautiful sun shone. There was no wind here, but—did Ari imagine it?—there seemed to be music. A classical guitar strumming somewhere nearby. There was even a damn palm tree next to Lam. “What the hell is this?” Kay blustered. “Bermuda,” Merlin said with a small shrug that made him stumble. “My happy place.

And I know that there are black boys and black girls out there lost in a Bermuda triangle of the mind or stranded in the doldrums of America, some of them treading and some of them drowning, never feeling and never forgetting. The most precious thing I had then is the most precious thing I have now—my own curiosity. That is the thing I knew, even in the classroom, they could not take from me. That is the thing that buoyed me and eventually plucked me from the sea.

Mr. Nord, bald and boring, sold equipment to hospitals and was gone a lot on overnight trips. Mrs. Nord wore eye shadow and headbands that matched her shell tops and Bermudas. For lunch she made us foods she’d seen in the pages of her women’s magazines: baked hot dogs coated in crushed Special K; English muffin pizzas; Telstar coolers (lemonade and club soda afloat with a toothpick-speared maraschino cherry—a sort of edible satellite that jabbed your lip as you drank).

I swear,” Hal said, “this place is like the Bermuda Triangle. It’s friggin’ spooky. I went out to feed the monkeys last night, and I saw the Easter Bunny walking down the road with Sasquatch. And now there are rockets shooting into the sky from nowhere.

In the early 1600s, for nearly two decades, Virginia and Bermuda were the only English colonies in the New World. Here, for the first time, English, Indians, and Africans had to learn to live together. After four hundred years, there is still much to learn.

Let's face it. I'm the romantic equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle. Men date me then disappear , never to be heard from again." Jaymes, Olivia (2013-12-18). Justice Healed (Cowboy Justice Association Book 2) (Kindle Locations 981-982). Blonde Ambition Press. Kindle Edition.

He paused, and then he recited with wry mournfulness the beginning of a poem he had learned to scream in Bermuda, when he was a little boy. The poem was all the more poignant, since it mentioned two nations which no longer existed as such. “I see England,” he said, “I see France—

The Bermuda Triangle coughs up myths like a consumptive asthmatic. Missing vessels are blamed on aliens. Atlantis. Time rifts. Ghost ships. Magnetic anomalies. Methane eruptions. People go mad. People lose their minds. Sometimes I think I've been in the Bermuda Triangle my whole life.

So, Bran, tell us,” said a lanky guy in a striped rugby shirt and salmon-colored chinos. He was standing next to a guy in Bermuda shorts and buckskin shoes. Every year more and more preppies were showing up at her parties and if she was honest with herself, she knew it was Brandon’s influence.

You spend hours wrestling with yourself, trying to keep your vision intact, your intensity undiminished. Sometimes I have to stick my head under the tap to get my wits back. And for what? You know what publishing is like these days. Paper costs going up all the time. Nothing gets printed unless it can be made into a movie. Everything is media. Crooked politicians sell their unwritten memoirs for thousands. I’ve got a great idea for a novel. It’s about a giant shark who’s possessed by a demon while swimming in the Bermuda Triangle. And the demon talks in CB lingo, see? There’ll be recipes in the back.

No entanto, a da tartaruga não é uma boa teoria científica porque prevê que as pessoas devem ser capazes de cair pela beirada do mundo. A experiência mostra que as coisas não são assim, a menos que venhamos a descobrir que essa é a explicação para as pessoas que supostamente desapareceram no Triângulo das Bermudas!

It early became manifest that great reliance must be placed on the introduction of articles of prime necessity through the blockaded ports. A vessel, capable of stowing six hundred and fifty bales of cotton, was purchased by the agent in England, and kept running between Bermuda and Wilmington. Some fifteen to eighteen successive trips were made before she was captured. Another was added, which was equally successful. These vessels were long, low, rather narrow, and built for speed. They were mostly of pale sky-color, and, with their lights out and with fuel that made little smoke, they ran to and from Wilmington with considerable regularity.

What about this, then?” The metal surface rippled at his touch, stretching and splitting into a million thin wires that made it look like a giant version of one of those pin art toys Sophie used to play with as a kid. He tapped his fingers in a quick rhythm, and the pins shifted and sank, forming highs and lows and smooth, flat stretches. Sophie couldn’t figure out what she was seeing until he tapped a few additional beats and tiny pricks of light flared at the ends of each wire, bathing the scene in vibrant colors and marking everything with glowing labels. “It’s a map,” she murmured, making a slow circle around the table. And not just any map. A 3-D map of the Lost Cities. She’d never seen her world like that before, with everything spread out across the planet in relation to everything else. Eternalia, the elvin capital that had likely inspired the human myths of Shangri-la, was much closer to the Sanctuary than she’d realized, nestled into one of the valleys of the Himalayas—while the special animal preserve was hidden inside the hollowed-out mountains. Atlantis was deep under the Mediterranean Sea, just like the human legends described, and it looked like Mysterium was somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle. The Gateway to Exile was in the middle of the Sahara desert—though the prison itself was buried in the center of the earth. And Lumenaria… “Wait. Is Lumenaria one of the Channel Islands?” she asked, trying to compare what she was seeing against the maps she’d memorized in her human geography classes. “Yes and no. It’s technically part of the same archipelago. But we’ve kept that particular island hidden, so humans have no idea it exists—well, beyond the convoluted stories we’ve occasionally leaked to cause confusion.

These girls looked awfully bored to me. I saw them on the sunroof, yawning and painting their nails and trying to keep up their Bermuda tans, and they seemed bored as hell. I talked with one of them, and she was bored with yachts and bored with flying around in airplanes and bored with skiing in Switzerland at Christmas and bored with the men in Brazil.

Even for a badass alien, it's not easy to live as an Egyptian.

Kilgore Trout, incidentally, could never be President of the United States without a Constitutional amendment. He hadn’t been born inside the country. His birthplace was Bermuda. His father, Leo Trout, while remaining an American citizen, worked there for many years for the Royal Ornithological Society—guarding the only nesting place in the world for Bermuda Erns.

Kadın gülmeye devam ederken, “Bermuda şeytan üçgeni gibiyiz” diye mırıldandı. “Yaklaşan kayboluyor!”. Kısa süre Çelik Bey ile gözleri birbirine kilitlendi. “Tercüme et!” Demir Bey bir kahkaha patlattı Takdir dolu bakışlarını genç kadınla kesişti. “İnan bana, ne sen ne ben ne de bir başkası söylemek istediklerinin yanından bile geçebiliriz!” “Tavsiyem, anlamaya çalışma! Çünkü bu kadın, Matruşka!

The space center's proximity to my backyard came to signify an intersection between heaven and hell. Florida was somewhere between the two; it was America's phantom limb, a place where spaceships were catapulted out into the cosmos. Alligators emerged from brackish water. Vultures and hawks circled above. Mosquitoes patrolled the atmosphere at eye level. We shared an ocean with sharks and dolphins. There were no seasons, only variations of humidity. Time slithered, festering in a damp wake of recollections. I believed in the Bermuda Triangle. I thought it would move in over Florida one night. By dusk an unknown force would vaporize us through a tear in the atmosphere. We'd be stuck, wandering in a parallel version of the same place, unaware that we were dead but dreaming. People came here to vanish.

A tourist couple -- European by the look of them -- were taking pictures in the courtyard of the mosque. The woman had covered her head with one of the long scarves provided at the entrance. Someone -- perhaps a passer-by -- must have warned her that her dress was too short; she had tied another scarf around her waist to cover her legs above the knee. The man, by contrast, had sandals and Bermuda shorts apparently no one had seen as a problem.

have a war memorial of my own at Greenway. In the library, which was their mess-room, an artist has done a fresco round the top of the walls. It depicts all the places where that flotilla went, starting at Key West, Bermuda, Nassau, Morocco, and so on, finally ending with a slightly glorified exaggeration of the woods of Greenway and the white house showing through the trees. Beyond that again is an exquisite nymph, not quite finished–a pin-up girl in the nude–which I have always supposed to represent the hopes of houris at journey’s end when the

She was a tall and slender woman, possibly in her early thirties. Her skin had the extraordinary fineness of grain, and the translucence you see in small children and fashion models. In her fine long hands, delicacy of wrists, floating texture of dark hair, and in the mobility of the long narrow sensitive structuring of her face there was the look of something almost too well made, too highly bred, too finely drawn for all the natural crudities of human existence. Her eyes were large and very dark and tilted and set widely. She wore dark Bermuda shorts and sandals and a crisp blue and white blouse, no jewelry of any kind, a sparing touch of lipstick.

She sorted through the clothes. “Do you mind wearing Emilio’s underwear?” She turned back to him with the two different styles that she’d found. “You’re about the same size. And they’re clean. They were wrapped in a paper package, like from a laundry service.” Max gave her a look, because along with the very nice, very expensive pair of black silk boxers she’d pilfered from Emilio, she’d also borrowed one of his thongs. “What?” Gina said. It was definitely a man-thong. It had all that extra room for various non-female body parts. “Don’t be ridiculous.” “I’m not,” she said, trying to play it as serious. “One, it’s been a while, maybe your tastes have changed. And two, these might actually be more comfortable, considering the placement of your bandage and—” He took the boxers from her. “Apparently I was wrong.” She turned away and started sorting through the pairs of pants and Bermuda shorts she’d grabbed, trying not to be too obvious about the fact that she was watching him out of the corner of her eye. To make sure he didn’t fall over. Right. After he got the boxers on, he took off the bathrobe and . . . Okay, he definitely wasn’t as skinny as he’d been after his lengthy stint in the hospital. Emilio’s pants probably weren’t going to fit him, after all. Although, there was one pair that looked like they’d be nice and loose . . . There they were. The Kelly green Bermuda shorts. Max gave her another one of those you’ve-got-to-be-kidding glances as he put the bathrobe over the back of another chair. “Do I really look as if I’ve ever worn shorts that color in my entire life?” She tried not to smile. “I honestly don’t think you have much choice.” She let herself look at him. “You know, you could just go with the boxers. At least until your pants dry. You know what would really work with that, though? A bowtie.” She turned, as if to go back to the closet. “I’m sure Emilio has a tux. Judging from his other clothes, it’s probably polyester and chartreuse, but maybe the bowtie is—” “Gina.” Max stopped her before she reached the door. He motioned for her to come back. She held out the green shorts, but instead of taking them, he took her arm, pulled her close. “I love you,” Max said, as if he were dispatching some terrible, dire news that somehow still managed to amuse him at least a little. Gina had been hoping that he’d say it, praying even, but the fact that he’d managed to smile, even just a bit while he did, was a miracle. And then, before her heart even had a chance to start beating again, he kissed her. And oh, she was also beyond ready for that particular marvel, for the sweet softness of his mouth, for the solidness of his arms around her. There was more of him to hold her since he’d regained his fighting weight—and that was amazing, too. She skimmed her hands across the muscular smoothness of his back, his shoulders, as his kiss changed from tender to heated. And, God. That was a miracle, too. Except she couldn’t help but wonder about those words, wrenched from him, as if it cost him his soul to speak them aloud. Why tell her this right now? Yes, she’d been waiting for years for him to say that he loved her, but . . . Max laughed his surprise. “No. Why do you . . .?” He figured it out himself. “No, no, Gina, just . . . I should’ve said it before. I should have said it years ago, but I really should have said it, you know, instead of hi.” He laughed again, clearly disgusted with himself. “God, I’m an idiot. I mean, hi? I should have walked in and said, ‘Gina, I need you. I love you, don’t ever leave me again.’” She stared at him. It was probably a good thing that he hadn’t said that at the time, because she might’ve fainted. It was obvious that he wanted her to say something, but she was completely speechless.

The Clipper pulled away from its moorage, entered Long Island Sound off Queens, and began its takeoff run, bumping across a mile-long fetch of open water before at last lifting off, shedding water like a breaching whale. With a cruising speed of 145 miles per hour, the plane would need about six hours to reach its first stop, Bermuda. It flew at eight thousand feet, which pretty much ensured that it would encounter every cloud and storm in its path. There would be turbulence but also luxury. White-jacketed stewards served full meals on china in a dining compartment with tables, chairs, and tablecloths. At dinner men wore suits, women dresses; at night the stewards made up beds in curtained berths. Honeymooners could book a private suite in the plane’s tail and swoon at the moonglade on the sea below.

take tuna. Among the other 145 species regularly killed — gratuitously — while killing tuna are: manta ray, devil ray, spotted skate, bignose shark, copper shark, Galapagos shark, sandbar shark, night shark, sand tiger shark, (great) white shark, hammerhead shark, spurdog fish, Cuban dogfish, bigeye thresher, mako, blue shark, wahoo, sailfish, bonito, king mackerel, Spanish mackerel, longbill spearfish, white marlin, swordfish, lancet fish, grey triggerfish, needlefish, pomfret, blue runner, black ruff, dolphin fish, bigeye cigarfish, porcupine fish, rainbow runner, anchovy, grouper, flying fish, cod, common sea horse, Bermuda chub, opah, escolar, leerfish, tripletail, goosefish, monkfish, sunfish, Murray eel, pilotfish, black gemfish, stone bass, bluefish, cassava fish, red drum, greater amberjack, yellowtail, common sea bream, barracuda, puffer fish, loggerhead turtle, green turtle, leatherback turtle, hawksbill turtle, Kemp’s ridley turtle, Atlantic yellow-nosed albatross, Audouin’s gull, balearic shearwater, black-browed albatross, great black-backed gull, great shearwater, great-winged petrel, grey petrel, herring gull, laughing gull, northern royal albatross, shy albatross, sooty shearwater, southern fulmar, Yelkouan shearwater, yellow-legged gull, minke whale, sei whale, fin whale, common dolphin, northern right whale, pilot whale, humpback whale, beaked whale, killer whale, harbor porpoise, sperm whale, striped dolphin, Atlantic spotted dolphin, spinner dolphin, bottlenose dolphin, and goose-beaked whale. Imagine being served a plate of sushi. But this plate also holds all of the animals that were killed for your serving of sushi. The plate might have to be five feet across.

With the lessons learned from the Mike SSN disaster in the North Sea off Norway, the Typhoon’s captain decided to remain where he was to await rescue. Mack knew the Russian captain had lost his cool; he was now in the South China Sea, where no Russian ships could come to his rescue. What’s more, Cheyenne had finally picked up the last Akula, whose captain had elected to pull off to be able to fight another day and which had managed to distance itself from the fray. Cheyenne was there as the Typhoon reached the surface. The Russian submarine had been severely damaged, but Mack ordered four more torpedoes into the defenseless Typhoon. There was seldom mercy in wartime, and Cheyenne’s and Mack’s orders were clear. If he had allowed the Typhoon to survive, its crew would have cut the missile hatches open with blow torches and completed their launch against Taiwan. The result of the additional four torpedoes exploding beneath the Typhoon caused major seawater system flooding. The ensuing scene was similar to the devastation experienced by the Yankee class SSBN southeast of the Bermudas years before. Only this time there was no capability to protect and remove the crew. Life rafts were put over the side, only to be attacked by the South China Sea shark population, so the crew watched helplessly from the huge, flat missile-tube deck. The oversized submarine started settling slowly deeper, the water level rising to within meters of the missile- tube deck, with the crew topside. The captain—the admiral-to-be-had already sent a message to his North Fleet Headquarters concerning the impending demise of his capital ship and the lack of help from his Akula escorts by name, two of which had been sunk. He had not been given any means to communicate with the Chinese, so he resorted to calling home. After that he went topside to be with his men, sat down, and held hands in a circle as their submarine slid beneath the surface of the sea, sailors to the end, for eternity.

I was most pleasantly surprised, with this chart, to see a Yod pointing at the Moon. After all, what other planet influences changeable behaviour and creates a strong magnetic pull? I am tempted to say that the problem of the Bermuda Triangle has been solved: it was the Moon all along! But it is obviously more complicated than that. For one thing, there is a theory that there is an energy vortex operating through the earth, with a corresponding ‘problem’ area on the other side of the world, based near the west coast of Australia in the Indian Ocean. I noticed when I was looking at my Atlas that these trouble spots are on, or near, the Tropic of Cancer in the north, and the Tropic of Capricorn in the south. Being that these circles are the northern-most and southern-most positions of the Sun as it passes over the earth at the summer and winter solstices, there must be a residue of magnetic energy along those lines. To create a vortex, another energy line must be intersecting each tropical line at a right angle (90°). We can see this energy line on the chart: the Pluto-Midheaven opposition would be operating at full strength, as the critical degree is within 45’ of true (meaning, that the difference between the position of Pluto and the Midheaven, directly overhead, is almost exactly 180°). Because Mars is conjunct to Pluto, also opposite to the Midheaven, stormy weather, previously noted in this book, was raging: a potent combination.

I talked to Mr. Gotha, the sheriff,” Carlton told his friends Amos and Albert. “He told me it is just a rumor, but that there is element of truth in every rumor.” “Really? What are we going to do now?” asked Albert. “I am scared, really scared,” said Amos. “Everybody is scared to death and no one is doing anything to protect us,” said Albert. “I think we should do something, since no one else is going to,” said Carlton “And what can you do, you coward? If anybody is to do something, it certainly would not be you, Carlton. Remember, you are a

Josh Miller, 22 years old. He is co-founder of Branch, a “platform for chatting online as if you were sitting around the table after dinner.” Miller works at Betaworks, a hybrid company encapsulating a co-working space, an incubator and a venture capital fund, headquartered on 13th Street in the heart of the Meatpacking District. This kid in T-shirt and Bermuda shorts, and a potential star of the 2.0 version of Sex and the City, is super-excited by his new life as a digital neo-entrepreneur. He dropped out of Princeton in the summer of 2011 a year before getting his degree—heresy for the almost 30,000 students who annually apply to the prestigious Ivy League school in the hope of being among the 9% of applicants accepted. What made him decide to take such a big step? An internship in the summer of 2011 at Meetup, the community site for those who organize meetings in the flesh for like-minded people. His leader, Scott Heiferman, took him to one of the monthly meetings of New York Tech Meetup and it was there that Miller saw the light. “It was the coolest thing that ever happened to me,” he remembers. “All those people with such incredible energy. It was nothing like the sheltered atmosphere of Princeton.” The next step was to take part in a seminar on startups where the idea for Branch came to him. He found two partners –students at NYU who could design a website. Heartened by having won a contest for Internet projects, Miller dropped out of Princeton. “My parents told me I was crazy but I think they understood because they had also made unconventional choices when they were kids,” says Miller. “My father, who is now a lawyer, played drums when he was at college, and he and my mother, who left home at 16, traveled around Europe for a year. I want to be a part of the new creative class that is pushing the boundaries farther. I want to contribute to making online discussion important again. Today there is nothing but the soliloquy of bloggers or rude anonymous comments.” The idea, something like a public group email exchange where one can contribute by invitation only, interested Twitter cofounder Biz Stone and other California investors who invited Miller and his team to move to San Francisco, financing them with a two million dollar investment. After only four months in California, Branch returned to New York, where it now employs a dozen or so people. “San Francisco was beautiful and I learned a lot from Biz and my other mentors, but there’s much more adrenaline here,” explains Miller, who is from California, born and raised in Santa Monica. “Life is more varied here and creating a technological startup is something new, unlike in San Francisco or Silicon Valley where everyone’s doing it: it grabs you like a drug. Besides New York is the media capital and we’re an online publishing organization so it’s only right to be here.”[52]

Talk turned to current affairs. When the Bush-Gore election came up, Michael noted, “We discovered that to the credit of Gore he said his favourite book was Le Rouge et Le Noir.” Stendhal was one of Michael’s all-time favourites. “That settled things for Michael,” I said. “Yes,” he quickly agreed. “How’s Plymouth Argyle doing Michael?” Peter asked. “It’s dreadful. We’ve had the worst beginning of a season for years,” Michael replied, dropping his voice in disgust. “So we don’t need to press that subject.” We all laughed. Michael started to rise with his usual stagger. “Are you all right, Michael?” Emma asked. “Just let people help you,” Celine suggested. “I know,” Michael said. “You must do it,” Celine insisted. “You’ve always been independent, but it’s not in your best interests.” Celine was the only one of Michael’s friends who was quite this direct with him. While in Bermuda, Celine and Peter had provided a wheelchair for Michael, so that he could get around more quickly. Celine pressed her case in a jolly way, nearly always punctuating her remarks with laughter. A former centrefold, she was short and zaftig. She recommended that Michael find a nice girl with long hair to give him a massage. “It might work,” Michael agreed. He kept saying his legs had been getting better in Dubrovnik. I saw no sign of that, but I did marvel at how he negotiated the three sets of stairs from the kitchen to the living room (at street level) and then up another flight to where Jill’s study and his library are and then yet another all the way up to his bedroom. It was a very long haul that he laboriously

By the first week of August—within a week or so of the wreck—Sir George “squared out a garden” where he planted muskmelons, peas, onions, radish, lettuce, and other herbs and good English plants.21 In ten days the seeds, carried as cargo on the Sea Venture, had sprouted and pushed their way above ground. The island’s birds made quick work of the sprouts, though, and none of the plants matured. Somers had no better luck with several sugarcane sprouts he planted in the garden area near the little gathering of thatched huts; they were almost immediately rooted up and eaten by the island’s wild hogs. Despite these early disappointments, Somers and the other survivors thought that the Bermudas would prove to be a likely place for English settlers to grow the lemons, oranges, sugarcane, and even grape vines that thrived in some of the Spanish islands of the Caribbean. In fact, as fertile as the Bermudas appeared to the survivors, the island chain’s soil and subtropical climate were ill suited to producing most crops. Still, the survivors found plenty of food and lush surroundings and mostly pleasant weather and ready shelter.

Of course, Sir George and Sir Thomas and Captain Newport had worries other than just food and water and shelter. They were bound, by duty and by desire, to fulfill their obligations to the Virginia Company. The men and women in Jamestown were waiting for their arrival and the supplies they carried, while others in Virginia and in England and in Bermuda, too, had invested heavily in the Virginia venture. Somehow, the Sea Venture survivors had to escape the islands and make their way to the Chesapeake.

Within a week or two weeks of their grounding, Gates and the others knew that the other ships in the fleet had either been lost in the storm or had sailed on to Jamestown. If any of the other sea captains had decided after the storm to search for the Sea Venture and those who sailed in her, they had abandoned those efforts as futile within just a few days. Those in Bermuda knew that they had to try to let the Virginia colonists know of the shipwreck and, if possible, to arrange for their own rescue.

it is unlikely that any of the ships’ captains seriously considered steering their damaged and undermanned vessels to either Barbuda or the Bermudas in search of the Sea Venture. Instead, the storm would have convinced all the captains to steer for Virginia and what they hoped and prayed would be safety.

the island chain had achieved such a terrible reputation, thanks to its reefs and to the unearthly screams of the island’s millions of cahows, that mariners were calling Bermuda the Isle of Devils.

Even before those in Bermuda knew that Ravens’s mission was unsuccessful, Sir Thomas Gates ordered the construction of a pinnace that could carry survivors on to Jamestown. He may have figured there were no ships in Virginia large enough to rescue all the survivors—more than 140 following the departure of Ravens and his shipmates—or he may simply have been pragmatic about the likelihood that the longboat might never make it to the Chesapeake. In any event, the same day that Ravens left, the keel of the pinnace was laid on Buildings Bay, just south of the beach on which Gates and the other survivors first came ashore. There, a group of men set about building a large pinnace under the direction of Frobisher, the able ship’s carpenter. But even as they laid the keel and began fashioning the ribs of the vessel they hoped would carry them to safety, trouble was brewing, trouble that would ultimately threaten tragedy for all the Sea Venture survivors.

Even after its discovery, Bermuda remained a no-man’s-land. The maze of reefs and coral heads that nearly surround the islands make approaching the Bermudas a scary business.

As challenging as the islands were to mariners, a few Spanish and Portuguese and, later, English sailors did make their way to stand on one of Bermuda’s beaches or to climb its rocks or investigate its many caves. None of these early visitors came to stay, though. Bermuda was just too difficult to reach, too dangerous to approach.

According to Oviedo’s history, a Portuguese ship bound for home port from San Domingo was driven onto the Bermudan reefs in 1542 or early 1543. Fortunately for the thirty seamen on the vessel, the ship—like the Sea Venture almost seven decades later—was held in the grip of the coral, kept afloat long enough for the crew to salvage provisions, tools, spars, sails, and shrouds. Over the next four months, they constructed a new vessel they used to sail to San Domingo. It may have been one of the sailors from this Portuguese vessel who climbed to a cliff seventy feet above the sea on Bermuda’s south shore where he carved a cross, the date—“1543”—and what appear to be the letters TF or RP. No one knows for sure just what this carving represents. If the letters are TF, they might be some marooned or shipwrecked mariner’s initials, carved as a memorial to himself as he stared out to sea, searching for the sight of a friendly sail. If RP, they may stand for Rex Portugaline, representing an early Portuguese claim to the islands.

engulfed

little curious as to where exactly they’ve sent that coupon as I do not recall actually giving them an address. If it was a mandatory field on their form then chances are I just started typing things about horses, as per usual. Looks like there’s going to be one lucky horse out there somewhere... and one confused postman.   Trevor Mcinsley to: Cape Kidnappers Golf Course   Hello, I was wondering what the dress code for your course is. Specifically if ski goggles/paintball masks are allowed? We will have rather a large gathering and we are... erm, afraid of getting hit in the eyes by stray balls. Yes, that’s it. WE ARE DEFINITELY NOT AN INTERNATIONAL CRIME SYDNICATE. Thanks.   Cape Kidnappers Golf Course to: Trevor Mcinsley   Trevor,   Thank you for your inquiry.   The dress code at Cape Kidnappers is generally considered tidy but requires collared shirts and khaki pants or bermuda shorts. While we understand you are concerned about your eyes, ski goggles and paintball masks are not allowed. Traditional safety

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fiction

turned her head away from the other woman to avoid showing her smile. “If people were sensible, the wedding venue would never be rented out, which means we’d be homeless and living on the streets.” “Love doesn’t

And it is here—on this western end of the street—that over the years has become known as Louisiana State’s most prominent breeding ground for disappearances and suicides: the delta region’s bastard lovechild between The Golden Gate Bridge and the Bermuda Triangle.

On a wooden chair facing the elevator's control panel covered in black fur and wearing a pair of green Bermuda shorts from which protruded two hand-like callused feet, sat a monkey. It spun on its seat, wrapped its feet around the backrest of the chair, opened its coconut-shaped mouth and said, “Hello, Miss.

Sharko had checked online for the local temperature: celestial fires torched the country, a veritable sauna, which wouldn’t help matters. He packed his suitcase with plain short-sleeved shirts, two bathing suits—you never know—two pairs of twill trousers, and Bermuda shorts. He didn’t forget his tape recorder, cocktail sauce, candied chestnuts, or O-gauge Ova Hornby locomotive, with its black car for wood and charcoal.

They must be taking us back to Bermuda and flying us home. Lee’s face shrinks with worry. I think about our tablemates who had mentioned they also didn’t like to fly. Most of the people on this ship are afraid to fly. My God: That’s why they’re here. Cruising itself is not actually fun! I

Bermuda City was fashioned to be "an impregnable retreat, against any forraign invasion, how powerfull so ever." This became the fourth and last of the public, or general, corporations taking its place with James City, Kecoughtan, and Henrico. Within a few years its name would change from Bermuda to Charles City to honor Prince Charles as Henrico had been named for Prince Henry his brother, both being royal sons. Hamor, in 1614, spoke of "Bermuda Citty," evidently meaning to include Bermuda Hundred as well, as "a business of greatest hope, ever begunne in our territories their." At the same time he mentions the special "pattent," or agreement, made between Dale and the people there, "termes and conditions they voluntarily have undertaken.

The massacre of 1622 appeared to have been devastating in the Bermuda area and led to its temporary abandonment. The list of those killed is, however, rather light in comparison with settlements such as Martin's Hundred. There were twenty-seven at four specified points. It leads one to doubt that a full list of names was submitted.

By 1624 the Colony had grown from a single settlement at Jamestown to a series of communities along the James River and on the Eastern Shore. Until 1611 only Jamestown had proven lasting. In this fourth year, however, Kecoughtan (Elizabeth City) was established on a permanent basis and Henrico was laid out. In 1613 the fourth of the Company settlements was established at Bermuda which was to become Charles City.