Chambers And Partners Quotes

All incidents which we experience are warily interpreted and translated in the dark chamber of our mind. They inspire us how to behave, how to think, how to act and prompt our predilections and our way of visualizing the world. The mind opens itself then to welcome the enchantments of life or to tear up destructive thinking patterns. The brain becomes truly a precious resilient partner. ( "Camera obscura of the mind" )

He lived in chambers that had once belonged to his deceased partner. They were a gloomy suite of rooms, in a lowering pile of building up a yard, where it had so little business to be, that one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other houses, and forgotten the way out again.

What if a man could write everything that came into his mind. You could find there gems of wisdom, depth of utter despair, heights of the most cherished hopes, killing fields where we slaughter our enemies, moments of faith and moments of doubts, dark chambers where we commit infidelity against our partners, counting the goods we have stolen, hell nightmares, heaven blessedness, cursing of our enemies and blessing of our friends, and many other things. If one could write his mind, it would be a mirror to other minds where they could find themselves and not feel as the only wretched souls in existence. Go on then, write your mind in a book and publish it

My partner and I escaped the chamber with nothing more than a ripped hem (Miss Holmes's), a sagging hairdo (Miss Holmes's), and a broken copper-heeled shoe (also Miss Holmes's).

But outsiders who rush into the hills don’t always take the time to see that mountain people are a creative, resourceful lot. They don’t understand that Appalachians can be—should be—partners in the effort to make their lives better. They don’t grasp that, if given the right resources and opportunities, these communities are capable of saving themselves. If there’s one thing that women in these hills know how to do, it’s get things done.

Couples will no longer spend their nights in their houses dedicated to habitation and reception, the customary social reason for banalization. The chamber of love will be more remote from the center of the city: it will completely naturally re-create for the partners the notion of ex-centricity, in a place less open to the light, more hidden, in order to return to the atmosphere of the secret. The contrary move, the search for a center of thought, will proceed by the same technique.

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

Then, what is your reason?' 'I don't know!' Pei rubbed her face in frustration. 'There is no reason why I don't want to do this! I'm healthy! I'm clearly capable! Everybody I know who's ever gone to a Kresh comes back saying it's a fantastic time. I'd have ten-days to just lie around and have sex and be catered to. I like kids. I like being around kids. I imagine visiting my own would be nice. I have a partner who understands and friends who would be thrilled, and...there's no reason not to.' Speaker looked at her for a moment. 'Of course, there is. You don't want to.'...'And when it comes to a person's body, that is all the reason there ever needs to be. It doesn't matter if it's a decision about a new pair of legs, or how you like to trim your claws, or...what to do about an egg. You don't want to. That's it. That is all it ever needs to be.

Eli Campbell, managing partner of Chambers and White, walked into the break room carrying an empty mug. Partners seldom entered the room, but Eli was the exception. He practiced “management by wandering around.” Chatting with the staff while pouring his own coffee or biting into a hot Krispy Kreme doughnut gave him an insight that none of the other partners had. Unlike the other partners, he was friendly, outgoing, and approachable when in the office. But, that was a practiced facade.

God saw Hansen tighten his chokehold on Day and he could see his lover fighting to breathe. Day’s ears and neck were bright red. His lips were turning a darker color as his body was deprived of oxygen. Hansen pressed the barrel in deeper and yelled. “Two minutes and fifteen seconds before I get to zero and I provide the great state of Georgia the luxury of one less narc.” God’s mind exploded at the thought of not having Day in a world he lived in. He looked into his partner’s glistening eyes and saw he was turning blue and possibly getting ready to faint. Day was still looking at him, looking into God’s green eyes. No, no, no! He’s saying good-bye. God closed his eyes and released a loud, gut-wrenching growl cutting off the SWAT leader’s negotiations. “Godfrey, get yourself under control,” his captain said while grabbing for him. God jerked himself away from the hold and stepped forward, his angry eyes boring into Hansen’s dark ones. Hansen stared at him as if God was crazy. Little did he know God was at that moment. “Godfrey, get back here and stand down. That’s an order, Detective!” his captain barked. God’s large hands clenched at his sides fighting not to pull out his weapons. He ground his teeth together so hard his jaw ached. “Do you have any idea of the shit storm you’re about to bring down on your life,” God spoke with a menacing snarl while his large frame shook with fury. “In your arms you hold the only thing in this world that means anything to me. The man that you are pointing a gun at is my only purpose for living. You are threating to kill the only person in this world that gives a fuck about me.” God took two more steps forward and was vaguely aware of the complete silence surrounding him. Hansen’s finger hovered shakily over the trigger as he took two large steps back with Day still tight against his chest. God growled again and he saw a shade of fear ghost over Hansen’s sweaty face. “If you kill that man, I swear on everything that is holy, I will track you to the ends of the earth, killing and destroying any and everything you hold dear. I will take everything from you and leave you alive to suffer through it. I will bestow upon you the same misery that you have given to me.” Hansen shook his head and inched closer to the door behind him. “Stay back,” he yelled again but this time the demand lacked the courage and venom he exhibited before. “You kill that man, and you’ll have no idea of the monster you will create. Have you ever met a man with no heart…no conscience…no soul…no purpose?” God rumbled, his voice at least twelve octaves lower than the already deep baritone. God yanked his Desert Eagle from his holster in a flash and cocked the hammer back chambering the first round. Hansen stumbled back again, his eyes gone wide with fear. God’s entire body instinctually flexed every muscle in his body and it felt like the large vein in his neck might rupture. His body burned like he had a sweltering fever and he knew his wrath had him a brilliant shade of red. “I’m asking you a goddamn question, Hansen! No soul! No conscience! I’m asking you have you ever met the devil!” God’s thunderous voice practically rattled the glass in the hanger. “If you kill the man I love, you better make your peace with God, because I’m gonna meet your soul in hell.” His voice boomed.

She felt a warm mist of blood on her face as she peered down at her dear bridge partner and Angelo lying in a heap with a stew of brains and gore decorating the back end of their Camry.

I just couldn't bear to think my favorite bridge partner was living with a homicidal maniac whose trademark is snipping off his victims fingers and toes and eating them like buffalo wings dipped in A1 sauce.

Deborah glared at him, and he looked back; neither one of them blinked, breathed, or said a word, and for several long seconds it was her anger versus his gunfighter’s cool—fire against ice. It was an absolutely fascinating face-off, and under other circumstances I could have watched it all day just to see who would win. But things being what they were, I thought it had gone on quite long enough, and I cleared my throat in a deliberately artificial way. “Ahem,” I said, and they both glanced at me. “I really hate to interrupt,” I said, and nodded through the glass at Chapin. “But tempus is kind of fugiting, isn’t it?” They both stared at me and I felt as if one side of my face was melting and the other freezing. Then Chambers looked at Debs with one eyebrow raised, she looked back at him and finally nodded, and the spell was broken. “Where’s your partner?” Chambers said. “He should be here for this.” Deborah shook her head. “He’s not answering,” she said, “and I can’t wait.

I would beg a second dance with you, Miss Charming,” said the colonel. “You do live up to your name!” “Oh, go on,” said Miss Charming. The way Miss Charming was blushing now--real, honest blushing, not faking--it seemed she’d made her choice, and her choice wasn’t Mr. Nobley. And so Jane was left neatly on the sidelines again. She didn’t mind. Seriously she didn’t. Okay, maybe just a little. After all, tonight was the most fun she’d had since she’d come. “Miss Erstwhile?” Mr. Nobley was beside her suddenly. “It would seem my gentlemanly duty to ask you to dance.” She glanced at his hand. “You’re still holding your book, Mr. Nobley.” Het set it on a table, put one arm behind his back, and held the other out to her. She sighed. “I’m sorry I pestered you back there, but I’d rather not dance for duty.” His hand extended toward her. “But it would be my honor.” She rolled her eyes but took his hand. The first time he touched her waist, she started. There was nothing passive in his touch, nothing wasted. She was aware of his hands the way she was often conscious of his gaze seeking her out. It was, to say the least, surprising. With only three couples, they kept in fairly constant motion. As a general rule, conversation is more intimate in a crowd, but among only six people, every word, and silence, became public. Colonel Andrews: “What a lovely gown, Miss Charming! You wear it well, or should I say, it wears you?” Miss Charming: “Oh, you rascal!” Miss Erstwhile: “Do you know the name of this tune, Mr. Nobley?” Mr. Nobley: “I do not. It is a country tune.” Captain East: … Miss Heartwright: … Colonel Andrews: “I beg your pardon, Miss Charming. I seem to have stuck my foot under yours yet again.” Miss Charming: “Spit spot!” Miss Erstwhile: “It is such a relief, Mr. Nobley, to already know that you find this exercise vulgar and your partner unworthy. It saves us the idle chitchat.” Mr. Nobley: “And yet you chat away.” Aunt Saffronia: “Lovely dance! Shall I play another?” Miss Erstwhile: “What say you, Mr. Nobley? Ready to be done with me?” “I think…” He bowed. “I think I will retire early. I bid you a good evening.” “And so ends the fun,” Colonel Andrews said. “Wait, I don’t feel right…all that dancing…” Miss Charming put a hand to her forehead and fainted dead into his arms. He was forced to carry her to her chamber. Clever girl, thought Jane, saluting her with two fingers. Touché, Miss Charming.

frustration has flared up over the Common Core initiative, involving the implementation of national reading and maths standards for primary and secondary school children. The Gates Foundation played a central role in bringing the standards to fruition. Spending over $233 million to back the standards, the foundation dispersed money liberally to both conservative and progressive interest groups. The two major teachers' unions, the National Education Association and the American Federation of Teachers, each received large donations, as did the US Chamber of Commerce. Gates himself suggested that a benefit of the standards is that they open avenues towards increasing digital learning. In 2014, Microsoft announced it was partnering with Pearson to load Pearson's Common Core classroom material onto Microsoft's Surface tablet. Previously, the iPad was the classroom frontrunner; the Pearson partnership helps to make Microsoft more competitive.

Humans always got a little dumb when sexual partners were involved.

Then, what is your reason?' 'I don't know!' Pei rubbed her face in frustration. 'There is no reason why I don't want to do this! I'm healthy! I'm clearly capable! Everybody I know who's ever gone to a Kresh comes back saying it's a fantastic time. I'd have ten-days to just lie around and have sex and be catered to. I like kids. I like being around kids. I imagine visiting my own would be nice. I have a partner who understands and friends who would be thrilled, and...there's no reason not to.' Speaker looked at her for a moment. 'Of course, there is. You don't want to.'...'And when it comes to a person's body, that is all the reason there ever needs to be. It doesn't matter if it's a decision about a new pair of legs, or how you like to trim our claws, or...what to do about an egg. You don't want to. That's it. That is all it ever needs to be.

Biddy Chambers did. Had she given up, no one would have criticized her. Had she walked away, no one would have thought less of her. Her God-given assignment was to partner with her husband in teaching the Bible. They met in 1908, and by 1910 they were married, living in London, and busy about their dream of starting a Bible college. They purchased a large home and made rooms available for students and missionaries on furlough. Biddy’s training was in stenography. She took careful notes of her husband’s lectures and turned them into correspondence courses. At the outbreak of World War I, he felt a call to minister to soldiers stationed in Egypt. He and Biddy and their two-and-a-half-year-old daughter moved to the Middle East, where he took a position as a chaplain. Their ministry continued. He taught, she transcribed. He lectured; she captured his messages. It was a perfect partnership. Then came the setback. Her husband’s complications from appendicitis rendered Biddy a widow. Her husband died at the age of forty-three. She buried him in Egypt and returned to London to face this question: How could she partner with her husband if her husband was gone? All dreams of a teaching ministry would need to be abandoned, right? No. Biddy chose to give God her loaves and fishes. She set about the work of turning her husband’s notes into pamphlets and mailing them to friends and acquaintances. Eventually they were compiled into a book. My Utmost for His Highest was published in 1927.5

The man who kept the Axis partners smoothly aligned, with his impressive language and social skills, was a highly educated, arts-loving homosexual who enjoyed trading in the most salacious gossip about the personalities who ruled Germany and Italy. Dollmann was, in short, precisely the type of person the Nazis sent to the gas chambers.

She says you can return to your cushions and dancing and leave us be,” Celaena said. He tried his best to look serious. “Tell her it’s unacceptable for her to spar.” Celaena said something, to which the princess only waved a hand and strode past them onto the sparring floor. “What did you say?” Dorian said. “I said you volunteered to be her first partner,” he said. “Well? You don’t want to upset the princess.” “I will not spar with the princess.” “Would you rather spar with me?” “Perhaps if we had a private lesson in your chambers,” he said smoothly. “Tonight.” “I’ll be waiting.” She curled her hair around a finger.

count-out to retain the United States Championship. The following night on Raw, Ambrose had a title rematch against Kane and retained after the Reigns and Rollins got Ambrose disqualified. On July 14 at Money in the Bank, Ambrose competed in the World Heavyweight Championship Money in the Bank Ladder Match and failed to win the match despite interference from Reigns and Rollins. Ambrose retained his United States Championship at Summerslam by disqualification when Roman Reigns of The Shield speared Rob Van Dam. Now aligned with WWE COO Triple H, Ambrose and his Shield cohorts have made life hell for Daniel Bryan while continuing their winning ways. Ambrose’s successful United States Title defense against Dolph Ziggler at Night of Champions was proof of this. At Hell in a Cell, Ambrose was defeated by Big E via count-out. He was on the winning side of a Traditional Elimination Tag Team Match at Survivor Series, but Ambrose was the first eliminated in the bout. He stumbled again at WWE TLC when an errant spear from Reigns allowed Punk to pin Ambrose and escape a 3-on-1 Handicap Match against the entire Shield. Ambrose would then compete at the Royal Rumble 2014 match along with Rollins and Reigns. Late in the match Ambrose would score three eliminations. Late in the match, Ambrose attempted to eliminate Reigns, however Reigns eliminated both Rollins and Ambrose instead. The next night on Raw, The Shield would compete in a sixman tag team match against Daniel Bryan, Sheamus, and John Cena with all three members of the winning team qualifying to compete in the Elimination Chamber match for the WWE World Heavyweight Championship. Ambrose and his partners lost

During the writing of this book, I found myself questioning why the sixteenth-century history of the Irish-English conflict—“the Mother of All the Irish Rebellions”—has been utterly ignored or forgotten. This episode was by far the largest of Elizabeth’s wars and the last significant effort of her reign. It was also the most costly in English lives lost, both common and noble. By some estimates, the rebellion resulted in half the population of Ireland dying through battle, famine, and disease, and the countryside—through the burning of forestland—was changed forever. Yet almost no one studies it, writes of it, or discusses it, even as the impact of that revolt continues to make headlines across the world more than four hundred years later. Likewise, few people outside Ireland have ever heard of Grace O’Malley, surely one of the most outrageous and extraordinary personalities of her century—at least as fascinating a character as her contemporary and sparring partner Elizabeth I. Of course history is written by the victors, and England was, by all accounts, the winner of the Irish Rebellion of the sixteenth century. But the mystery only deepens when we learn that the only contemporary knowledge we have of Grace’s exploits—other than through Irish tradition and legend—is recorded not in Ireland’s histories, but by numerous references and documentation in England’s Calendar of State Papers, as well as numerous official dispatches sent by English captains and governors such as Lords Sidney, Maltby, and Bingham. As hard as it is to believe, Grace O’Malley’s name never once appears in the most important Irish history of the day, The Annals of the Four Masters. Even in the two best modern books on the Irish Rebellion—Cyril Fall’s Elizabeth’s Irish Wars and Richard Berleth’s The Twilight Lords—there is virtually no mention made of her. Tibbot Burke receives only slightly better treatment. Why is this? Anne Chambers, author of my two “bibles” on the lives of Grace O’Malley (Granuaile: The Life and Times of Grace O’Malley) and Tibbot Burke (Chieftain to Knight)—the only existing biographies of mother and son—suggests that as for the early historians, they might have had so little regard for women in general that Grace’s exclusion would be expected. As for the modern historians, it is troubling that in their otherwise highly detailed books, the authors should ignore such a major player in the history of the period. It

The U.S. Treasury Department has issued at least four licenses to companies that want to establish ferry service to Cuba from Key West, Miami, Fort Lauderdale and Tampa. Baleària, a Spanish company, presently owns the Baleària Bahamas Express ferry service from Fort Lauderdale to Freeport, Grand Bahamas, and is now considering a ferry to operate between Florida and Cuba. United Caribbean and Havana Partners have expressed an interest in a service from Tampa to Havana and Mexico. Baja Ferries USA wants to open routes between the Port of Miami and Port Everglades to Cuba. Some of the ferries will offer duty-free shopping, restaurants, bars and even swimming pools. The details regarding feasibility depends on government restrictions and tariffs placed on them by the countries, as well as the ports involved. Tampa would be a straight run 331 miles due south, but some of the other ports would be closer. In the end it will come down to money, availability of cargo and logistics. As of the summer of 2016, perspective ferry operators are awaiting final approval and licensing from the Cuban government. Because of this the ferry companies are on hold and are still waiting to begin operations. Tampa and The Port of Tampa have expressed their enthusiasm to become fully involved in these new ventures. Bob Rohrlack, President of the Greater Tampa Chamber of Commerce, has been to Cuba several times, taking corporate delegates in preparation for improved, open relations with Cuba.

When human beings give their heartfelt allegiance to and worship that which is not God, they progressively cease to reflect the image of God. One of the primary laws of human life is that you become like what you worship; what’s more, you reflect what you worship not only back to the object itself but also outward to the world around. Those who worship money increasingly define themselves in terms of it and increasingly treat other people as creditors, debtors, partners, or customers rather than as human beings. Those who worship sex define themselves in terms of it (their preferences, their practices, their past histories) and increasingly treat other people as actual or potential sexual objects. Those who worship power define themselves in terms of it and treat other people as either collaborators, competitors, or pawns. These and many other forms of idolatry combine in a thousand ways, all of them damaging to the image-bearing quality of the people concerned and of those whose lives they touch. My suggestion is that it is possible for human beings so to continue down this road, so to refuse all whisperings of good news, all glimmers of the true light, all promptings to turn and go the other way, all signposts to the love of God, that after death they become at last, by their own effective choice, beings that once were human but now are not, creatures that have ceased to bear the divine image at all. With the death of that body in which they inhabited God’s good world, in which the flickering flame of goodness had not been completely snuffed out, they pass simultaneously not only beyond hope but also beyond pity. There is no concentration camp in the beautiful countryside, no torture chamber in the palace of delight. Those creatures that still exist in an ex-human state, no longer reflecting their maker in any meaningful sense, can no longer excite in themselves or others the natural sympathy some feel even for the hardened criminal. I

Around a curved corner came the glimmer of an eerie green light. Talis stopped, his legs refusing to take another step. His blood thumped hard through his temples. Two ghostly-green, glowing orbs hovered in the darkness. In between stood a statue of the terrifying Zagros—in a battle-stance—wielding an executioner’s blade in one hand and in the other he held hundreds of tiny, severed heads tied together by a string. The onyx statue of the Lord of the Underworld. His mouth was open wide, tongue stretched out. Talis felt the hairs stand up along the back of his neck. The statue was revolting. A cloaked figure in black knelt before the statue, mumbling prayers. Golden orbs floated in the air all around the chamber. Candles were lit around the kneeling figure, giving off a freakish, flickering light. Mara grabbed Talis' arm and they hid behind a boulder and bent down, straining to listen. “I vow,” the figure said, “that my father… his soul find shall find respite. The endless war of Nyx—spare him, oh great Zagros, I beg you will spare him such a fate.” She leaned close to Talis, and whispered, “It’s Rikar.” What was he doing here? He was a foul-tempered student of the Order of the Dawn and Nikulo’s sparring partner. After she spoke, Rikar whirled around and glared at them. His eyes glowed green for a moment and then dimmed to black. “You dare violate the sanctity of this temple?” Mara and Talis stepped out from the shadows, bathed in the violent green light glowing around the statue. Rikar raised a hand and Talis felt a sickening energy creep up his legs and into his stomach, squeezing hard until massive bursts of pain shot through his body. Talis winced. What kind of strange magic was Rikar using on him? “Stop it!” Mara hissed, glowering at Rikar. “Leave it for the Blood Dagger competition.” Talis gasped and coughed as the pain diminished. He balled up a fist and started to charge at Rikar but Mara held him back. “I won’t even need to use a drop of magic against you pathetic runts.” Rikar stood and strode past them, shoving Talis aside. “Nice to see you’re all better, Your Royal Highness. I look forward to using my sword to make you wounded again.” He chuckled, pulling his cloak over his head as he stormed out. “What was that all about?” Mara shook her head. “Why was he in here, anyway?” “I really don’t want to know… Rikar has acted incredibly strange since his father died.” Mara shuddered, as if a cold chill had fallen over her. “Didn’t you used to be friends? What happened to him?” Talis wished he knew, but Rikar had always refused to talk about what had happened. Turning aside, she took a deep breath and faced the onyx statue, as if filled with a new resolve. “We have to complete the rites of initiation and do it quickly.” She motioned toward the shrine and they knelt together on the outer ley line. After their knees touched the ley line, a faint green light rose and strengthened into a blistering blaze that Talis could feel in his legs.

Around a curved corner came the glimmer of an eerie green light. Talis stopped, his legs refusing to take another step. His blood thumped hard through his temples. Two ghostly-green, glowing orbs hovered in the darkness. In between stood a statue of the terrifying Zagros—in a battle-stance—wielding an executioner’s blade in one hand and in the other he held hundreds of tiny, severed heads tied together by a string. The onyx statue of the Lord of the Underworld. His mouth was open wide, tongue stretched out. Talis felt the hairs stand up along the back of his neck. The statue was revolting. A cloaked figure in black knelt before the statue, mumbling prayers. Golden orbs floated in the air all around the chamber. Candles were lit around the kneeling figure, giving off a freakish, flickering light. Mara grabbed Talis' arm and they hid behind a boulder and bent down, straining to listen. “I vow,” the figure said, “that my father… his soul find shall find respite. The endless war of Nyx—spare him, oh great Zagros, I beg you will spare him such a fate.” She leaned close to Talis, and whispered, “It’s Rikar.” What was he doing here? He was a foul-tempered student of the Order of the Dawn and Nikulo’s sparring partner. After she spoke, Rikar whirled around and glared at them. His eyes glowed green for a moment and then dimmed to black. “You dare violate the sanctity of this temple?” Mara and Talis stepped out from the shadows, bathed in the violent green light glowing around the statue. Rikar raised a hand and Talis felt a sickening energy creep up his legs and into his stomach, squeezing hard until massive bursts of pain shot through his body. Talis winced. What kind of strange magic was Rikar using on him? “Stop it!” Mara hissed, glowering at Rikar. “Leave it for the Blood Dagger competition.” Talis gasped and coughed as the pain diminished. He balled up a fist and started to charge at Rikar but Mara held him back. “I won’t even need to use a drop of magic against you pathetic runts.” Rikar stood and strode past them, shoving Talis aside. “Nice to see you’re all better, Your Royal Highness. I look forward to using my sword to make you wounded again.” He chuckled, pulling his cloak over his head as he stormed out.