Cm Burns Quotes

What makes you think I want to marry you?” “What makes you think you have a choice?

but all I know is that you’re mine, and your ass is going to stay that way until I take my last breath.

His bike was lying against the curb, and he righted it, holding the handlebars. “What I do, I do out of hate, not humanity. Because punishing assholes gets me off—not saving victims. And actually all this . . .” He cast his gaze around us. “This isn’t doing a fucking thing for me. So if you’re not going to jump, I’d just as soon be home in bed.” Home. Well, there was one question answered. Face burning, I shook my head. “No, I’m not jumping.” “Great.” He slung a leg over his crossbar. Face utterly unchanged, the Badger drew his infamous Glock from inside his hoodie, took aim, and shot me in the thigh from five feet. “Ow, Jesus!” White paint exploded across my favorite jeans, and a bolt of exquisite pain promised a welt. “That’s for wasting my time,” he said, replacing the pistol. “I’m too fucking tired for false alarms, so next time have the decency to jump.” My slack mouth produced no words. I watched him glide away, silent and passive once more. As ever. I glanced at my palm, streaked with white from where I’d grabbed my leg. Looked and felt just like when a bird shits on your hair. You pray it’s a raindrop, but it never is. Fuck you too, Badger.

He smelled sweet, sounded sinful, and burned like fire when he touched me.

Turner's openness is starting to become more and more appealing to me. At least I know what I'm getting with him. And I still need to tell him about Dax's kiss. That, and his proposition. I haven't had even a single second to get him alone since, but the secret is burning a hole in my pocket. I need it gone. It's like I'm allergic to the fuckers now.

His bike was lying against the curb, and he righted it, holding the handlebars. “What I do, I do out of hate, not humanity. Because punishing assholes gets me off—not saving victims. And actually all this . . .” He cast his gaze around us. “This isn’t doing a fucking thing for me. So if you’re not going to jump, I’d just as soon be home in bed.” Home. Well, there was one question answered. Face burning, I shook my head. “No, I’m not jumping.” “Great.” He slung a leg over his crossbar. Face utterly unchanged, the Badger drew his infamous Glock from inside his hoodie, took aim, and shot me in the thigh from five feet. “Ow, Jesus!” White paint exploded across my favorite jeans, and a bolt of exquisite pain promised a welt. “That’s for wasting my time,” he said, replacing the pistol. “I’m too fucking tired for false alarms, so next time have the decency to jump.

On that fateful morning in April 1986, the explosion that blew off the reactor lid also dislodged special serpentine sand and concrete from within the thick walls surrounding the RBMK. In that same moment, a powerful shock wave forced the entire bottom half of the core assembly - including the lower biological shield - downward by several meters, into the space below. Over the following week, intense heat from the fire and radioactive decay increased until it reached temperatures sufficient to melt the fuel assembly, which poured out and bonded with the sand/concrete mix to form a kind of radioactive lava called corium. This lava then oozed through pipes, ducts and cracks in the damaged structure to the rooms beneath. The Elephant’s Foot was one offshoot of this lava, which had cooled into a glassy form. Melted fuel vacating the exposed reactor like this is probably what caused the sudden drop in temperature and emission levels in early May, 1986. A molten core is capable of burning through 30cm of concrete within hours, hence the scramble to prevent this from happening.246

I close my eyes to escape the burn. His eyes are so hot right now, I feel like I could be incinerated. The intense heat pouring off his body makes me think of Dax's cool touch. I'm sure it could kill, too, but it would be a quiet death, lulling you to sleep, promising life is better on the other side. Turner's touch, it simply sears and sizzles, melting me into nothing. Quick, painful, intense. I love it even though I don't want to.

The light was coming from the palace.  It was burning.  And Arkin had started the fire.  They would be coming for him…and soon.

In the early centuries of the Church, the bishops had gone to extreme lengths to suppress the dark secret surrounding the life and death of Jesus the Nazorean. Every heretical gospel that contained the secret had been destroyed, whole libraries burned to the ground. Because the record of that great purge was safeguarded in the Vatican Secret Archives, Franco wasn’t the only prelate in the Holy See who knew the particulars of the dark secret. Many cardinals knew that the Jesus of the canonical gospels was a fiction. But since there was no longer any documentary proof, all of them slept soundly at night secure in the knowledge that the Faithful would never be privy to what had come to be known as ‘The Great Heresy’.

Socks?" he asks, seeming amused.  "How is sex like socks?" I laugh a little, my crimson burn stinging my cheeks a little more. "Well, if you lived your whole life without socks, your feet would be just fine.  You wouldn't know the difference.  But, once you've had socks and felt their comfort in hard shoes, warmth in cold weather, and softness against the harsh floor, then you become a little spoiled, and you notice when they're gone.  You want socks again… a lot." He roars out his laughter, his seriousness broken, and then he shakes his head.

That, my darling niece, is real love. It’s not always going to slap you in the face, though that kind is amazing too. I would know. But sometimes, it burns you so subtly, that you don’t realize you’re boiling until it’s too late. The water just took a while to heat up with you, kiddo.

Who can know what he's doing when he doesn't even know why he does it? Bless the bright Cromagnon for inventing the bow and damn him for inventing missile warfare. Bless the stubby little Sumerians for miracles in gold and lapis lazuli and damn them for burying a dead queen's hand-maidens living in her tomb. Bless Shih Hwang-Ti for building the Great Wall between northern barbarism and southern culture, and damn him for burning every book in China. Bless King Minos for the ease of Cnossian flush toilets and damn him for his yearly tribute of Greek sacrificial victims. Bless Pharaoh for peace and damn him for slavery. Bless the Greeks for restricting population so the well-fed few could kindle a watch-tower in the west, and damn the prostitution and sodomy and wars of colonization by which they did it. Bless the Romans for their strength to smash down every wall that hemmed their building genius, and damn them for their weakness that never broke the bloody grip of Etruscan savagery on their minds. Bless the Jews who discovered the fatherhood of God and damn them who limited it to the survivors of a surgical operation. Bless the Christians who abolished the surgical preliminaries and damn them who substituted a thousand cerebral quibbles. Bless Justinian for the Code of Law and damn him for his countless treacheries that were the prototype of the wretched Byzantine millenium. Bless the churchmen for teaching and preaching, and damn, them for drawing a line beyond which they could only teach and preach in peril of the stake.

This is a full-blown, drop the panties, and treat the burns, Lucas Carter fucking kiss.

Zen Master Dogen said that to transmit Dharma means to transmit zazen. Explaining that Dharma is identical to zazen, he writes, “Ever since days of old, only a few people have known that the purpose of zazen is zazen.”43 He means that zazen is not the means of attaining any goal other than zazen and also that zazen is not the way of learning Zen. He goes on to say, “Zazen is something which makes us want to sit in zazen.” It is hard for beginners to understand this, but it is an important point to remember. Ceramic vase (height 120 cm.), hand-built in the ceramics studio at Daihonzan Chozen-ji by Myoshin Teruya Roshi. In this photograph, the piece has just completed its bisque firing; firing was later finished in a four-chamber wood-burning kiln on the grounds. Teruya

Joy, as I’ve said before, is so fragile. Passion, on the other hand, burns like fire and destroys everything in its path. It’s meant to cause destruction; it’s meant to burn.

You don’t always have to walk through fire and pretend like you didn’t get burned. Be honest, Gidge. Feel the feelings. Otherwise, they’ll take control of you; they’ll own you far better in denial than they ever could in acceptance.

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I can’t help but like what he’s just said to me. Like I said, I’ve grown up in the dark, so I appreciate the shadows. His darkness is beautiful to me, like a night sky bereft of stars. The sun is just too bright, and it burns. I belong here, in eternal midnight.

You look like a princess. So beautiful, enchanting and stunning. Thank you for gracing me with your love.” “Thank you for forcing your way into my life, making me slow down and enjoy being worshipped. Thank you for being my superhero. I’ll be forever grateful that you picked me to love.