Cosmo Quotes

And before you barrel through some idiotic Cosmo girl list of how-well-do-you-know-your-man questions, let me say that I don't know squat about him except that he kisses like a god and screws like a devil.

I am going to become a writer for Cosmo - you don’t have to make any sense at all. Or maybe I’ll be a bloke, they don’t have to make sense either.

Between the ages of fourteen and twenty-four, foreplay changes from being something that boys want to do and girls don't, to something that women want and men can't be bothered with. ... The perfect match, if you ask me, is between the Cosmo woman and the fourteen-year old boy.

You know, nerd is the new black. I read that in Cosmo.

Cosmo never speaks to my life. Its surveys always ask questions like How would you react if your lover announced he was taking a job in Alaska? and jumping for joy is never one of the options. Move to Alaska? Hell, my lover was thirty-seven and hadn't moved away from home yet. Where were the questions relevant to my life?

I pick up the phone and jab the answer button. “Listen, dancing queen, I’m drunk, horny, and in no mood to hear about pretty men who aren’t going to fuck me. So for the love of my poor neglected vagina, order yourself another Cosmo and please fuck off.” There’s a pause and an uncertain cough. “I’m more than happy to fuck off, but if it makes a different, I wasn’t going to talk about dicks. I’m far more interested to hear more about your poor neglected vagina. How’s she been? We haven’t had a face-to-face in a while.

The rain's been racing earthwards as if with some religious or political fanaticism. The clouds have the look of dark internal bleeding. Surely you lot look up from Cosmo while this sort of thing's going on? Surely you take a Playstation break?

Read any women's magazine and you'll see the same complaint over and over again: men - those little boys ten or twenty or thirty years on - are hopeless in bed. They are not interested in "foreplay"; they have no desire to stimulate the erogenous zones of the opposite sex; they are selfish, greedy, clumsy, unsophisticated. These complaints, you can't help feeling, are ironic. Back then, all we wanted was foreplay, and girls weren't interested. They didn't want to be touched, caressed, stimulated, aroused; in fact, they used to thump us if we tried. It's not really very suprising, then, that we're not much good at all that. We spent two or three long and extremely formative years being told very forcibly not even to think about it. Between the ages of fourteen and twenty-four, foreplay changes from being something that boys want to do and girls don't, to something that women want and men can't be bothered with. (Or so they say. Me, I like foreplay - mostly because the times when all I wanted to do was touch are alarmingly fresh in my mind.) The perfect match, if you ask me, is between the Cosmo woman and the fourteen-year-old boy.

It was on the table when I got here," Matt said in his defense. Josh eyed the open [Cosmo] magazine. "You don't already know how to satisfy your boyfriends in bed?" Matt ignored this. "Did either of you know there's ninety-nine ways to give a blow job? That's ninety-nine nights of blow jobs." "Look at you with the math skills," Josh said. Matt flipped him off while Ty flipped the page. "'How to Give Your Hoo-Ha a Spa Day.' Huh," he said. "I didn't know a woman's hoo-ha needed a spa day.

There is no ME without books; they’re everything I remember from childhood, from maturity … All that’s happened to me has been coloured, permanently, by my reading.

Paris isn’t a city, it’s a world. King Francois I

No, I assure you. I have yet to have a relationship in real life, but I've read lots of Cosmo and I used to take a ton of those quizzes about love." "Wow... that's really reassuring. NOT.

The articles were extremely eye-opening. Not just in Teen Vogue but in Seventeen and CosmoGirl as well. They were all about being yourself, staying natural, loving your body as is, and going green! The messages were the exact opposite of Vik and Viv's. Hmmmmm. Frankie turned to face the full-length mirror that was up against the yellow wardrobe. She opened her robe and examined her body. Fit, muscular, and exquisitely proportioned, she agreed with the magazines. So what if her skin was mint? Or her limbs were attached with seams? According to the magazines, which were - no offense! - way more in touch with the times than her parents were, she was suppose to love her body just the way it was. And she did! Therefor if the normies read magazines (which obviously they did, because they were in them), then they would love her, too. Natural was in. Besides she was Daddy's perfect little girl. And who didn't love perfect?

We must always seek the good which is hidden in everything.

You can't look prim and righteous wearing a microscopic miniskirt and mile-high heels. Well it's pretty hard, anyway.

You read my Cosmo?" "I read all of your magazines. I took all the love quizzes and pretended I was you answering the questions." "How did I do?" "You cheated," I said.

Uh, you're the fashionable expert here. I just sort of throw on things that don't have holes in them and hope for the best. I read a Cosmo onece on the toilet. Does that count?

... by treating nature as exterior and inferior to humans we saw no harm to ourselves in polluting the soil, the plants, the air and the water. We did not notice the effect of our pollution on whatever walked over it, ran across it, climbed up it, flew through it, or swam in it. Now we notice that harming other constituents of our planetary system brings harm to ourselves.

No one earth life, however rich in experience, could furnish the knowledge, so nature decrees that he must return to Earth, after intervals of rest, to take up his work where he dropped it,

Put it this way, how do you feel about the supernatural?” “I’m fine with it,” Molly replied coolly. “I used to watch Charmed and Buffy and all those shows.” Gabriel winced slightly. “This isn’t quite the same thing.” “Okay, well, listen to this. Last week my horoscope in Cosmo told me I was going to meet an enchanting stranger and this guy on the bus gave me his phone number. I’m a total believer now.” “Yeah, you’ve really seen the light,” Xavier said under his breath. “Did you know that Sagittarians have a problem with sarcasm?” Molly snapped. “That would be very enlightening, except I’m a Leo.” “Yeah, well, everyone knows they’re a pack of assholes!” “My God, you’re like talking to a rock.” “You’re a rock!

Mr Wisdom,' said the girl who had led him into the presence. 'Ah,' said Howard Saxby, and there was a pause of perhaps three minutes, during which his needles clicked busily. 'Wisdom, did she say?' 'Yes. I wrote "Cocktail Time"' 'You couldn't have done better,' said Mr Saxby cordially. 'How's your wife, Mr Wisdom?' Cosmo said he had no wife. 'Surely?' "I'm a bachelor.' Then Wordsworth was wrong. He said you were married to immortal verse. Excuse me a moment,' murmured Mr Saxby, applying himself to the sock again. 'I'm just turning the heel. Do you knit?' 'No.' 'Sleep does. It knits the ravelled sleave of care.' (After a period of engrossed knitting, Cosmo coughs loudly to draw attention to his presence.) 'Goodness, you made me jump!' he (Saxby) said. 'Who are you?' 'My name, as I have already told you, is Wisdom' 'How did you get in?' asked Mr Saxby with a show of interest. 'I was shown in.' 'And stayed in. I see, Tennyson was right. Knowledge comes, but Wisdom lingers. Take a chair.' 'I have.' 'Take another,' said Mr Saxby hospitably.

Remember: It cost God everything to make you holy. When you choose to live below that calling – making excuses for compromise and cultural ideals – you're spurning the identity Jesus died to provide.

I'll be careful." He looked at her. "I promise." "Call me if you need me." "Cosmo." He turned to look at her. "It does go both ways. I don't want to get a call from Tom Paoletti and Decker every Memorial Day.

So,' bellowed Cosmo, pouring me a drink. 'How's your love-life?' Oh no. Why do they do this? Why? Maybe the Smug Marrieds only mix with other Smug Marrieds and don't know how to relate to individuals any more. Maybe they really do want to patronize us and make us feel like failed human beings. Or maybe they are in such a sexual rut they're thinking, 'There's a whole other world out there,' and hoping for vicarious thrills by getting us to tell them the roller-coaster details of our sex lives.

gratitude makes for soul-growth.

But we can't blame God for being distant when it was in fact us who never drew near.

Mona began firing with deadly accuracy, also with a stream of Spanish words that Cosmo suspected were not taught in kindergarten.

Where were the questions relevant to my life? What about How would you react if your lover’s hair and footprints were found beside a dead man? Show me that in Cosmo and you have a subscriber.

I remember another thing Cosmo said. It typically takes half the time you’re dating a guy to fall out of love with him. My ex and I were together almost ten months before he admitted over the holidays that he’d fallen out of love with me, so by that measure I should’ve been cured weeks ago. But once you’ve anticipated spending forever with someone, I’m not convinced you can ever feel complete after being uncoupled. I think you just learn to live without the person. Like when someone dies, you don’t stop loving them just because they’re not around to love you back anymore. Breakups truly are a kind of death.

There were no witnesses to what was about to happen. 'Happen' didn't yet exist. Reality was timeless. Space also didn't exist. The distance between two points was immeasurable. The points themselves could be anywhere, hovering and bouncing. Infinity tangled into itself. There was no here and now. Only Being.

I lied quickly, remembering a Cosmo article I'd read that had exhorted me to “keep it light and airy and happy” when talking to a new guy because most “normal” guys didn't respond so well to hard-bitten cynicism.

Yet there was also something slightly spooky about them. Norton could never understand how men with advanced scientific and technical training could possibly believe some of the things he had heard Cosmo Christers state as incontrovertible fact.

Ethnocentrism, xenophobia and nationalism are these days rife in many parts of the world. Government repression of unpopular views is still widespread. False or misleading memories are inculcated. For the defenders of such attitudes, science is disturb­ing. It claims access to truths that are largely independent of ethnic or cultural biases. By its very nature, science transcends national boundaries. Put scientists working in the same field of study together in a room and even if they share no common spoken language, they will find a way to communicate. Science itself is a transnational language. Scientists are naturally cosmo­politan in attitude and are more likely to see through efforts to divide the human family into many small and warring factions. 'There is no national science,' said the Russian playwright Anton Chekhov, 'just as there is no national multiplication table.' (Likewise, for many, there is no such thing as a national religion, although the religion of nationalism has millions of adherents.)

Jadi," cetus Cosmo seraya menuangkan minuman untukku. "Bagaiman kehidupan cintamu?" Ya ampun. Kenapa sih mereka bertanya begitu? Kenapa? Mungkin Suami-Istri-Puas-Diri hanya bergaul dengan sesama Suami-Istri-Puas-Diri dan tidak tahu lagi bagaimana berinteraksi dengan individu lain. Mungkin mereka memang ingin merendahkan dan membuat kami merasa seperti manusia gagal. - Bridget Jones's Diary hlm.63

Pangloss taught metaphysico-theologico-cosmo-codology. He could prove wonderfully that there is no effect without a cause and that, in this best of all possible worlds, His Lordship the Baron's castle was the most beautiful of castles and Madam the best of all baronesses.

we should turn our most unsparing criticism toward ourselves. None is so perfect that there is no room for improvement.

< L'ESSERE UMANO - L'UOMO È LA PERSONOFICAZIONE DEL INCOSCIENZA IN PERSONA , CHI SI CONSIDERA UOMO SI CONSIDERA INCOSCIENTE AL 100% >

Come tutte le cose rapidamente svaniscano, nel cosmo i corpi stessi, nel tempo il loro ricordo;

Per il cosmo la distruzione di interi sistemi stellari è un fatto quotidiano e del tutto irrilevante. Questo

Cosmo was halfway through a particularly nasty dream involving two Parasites, Ziplock, and a hair dryer,

Tensurrealism creates actual and non-compromised reality, jamboree, fervor, fascination, poetics of an active enthusiasm, interludium, lyrical practice, active happiness.

I have considered the Dalai Lama and the CosmoGirl way of life, and realized that I behaved with all the dignity of a furious and heartsick and grievously wronged Teletubby.

Sabism is deabstraction, metacolorism, thematism, exotic, convalescent substrate, soft act, collectivism, pluralization, sensationalism, pluralart, thematic colourism, reabstraction.

Io non credo alle fiamme e allo zolfo dell’inferno; ma in momenti come questo rimpiango la mia miscredenza. No, in momenti come questo io quasi ci credo. Deve esistere per forza un inferno, perché in nessun altro posto voi potrete ricevere una punizione adeguata ai vostri crimini. Fino a quando esisterà gente come voi, l’inferno sarà un’esigenza essenziale del cosmo.

Forgiveness is restoration. If we say we forgive but refuse to extend trust, we haven't really forgiven. We are asking the person to prove themselves to us in order to be worthy of our full forgiveness. We're making them work for our grace, which is not the model Christ exemplified.

Parigi è sinonimo di cosmo. Parigi è Atene, Roma, Sibari, Gerusalemme, Pantin. Tutte le civiltà vi sono riassunte, e tutte le barbarie pure. Parigi sarebbe disgustata di non avere una ghigliottina.

Alasdair yanked a pillow, shoving it under his arse. "I think you'll find I'm a heavy but remarkably fit and supple git, thank you very much.” He spread his legs wide open and leered. “With real self-esteem issues.” Cosmo deadpanned. “I will have if you don’t hurry up and make love to me.” “Make love?” Aww, that’s sweet.” “Less talking. More shagging.” “Yes, boss!” Cosmo saluted with his free hand…

A Paris Quand un amour fleurit Ça fait pendant des semaines Deux cœurs qui se sourient Tout ça parce qu´ils s´aiment A Paris Au printemps Sur les toits les girouettes Tournent et font les coquettes Avec le premier vent Qui passe indifférent Nonchalant Car le vent Quand il vient à Paris N´a plus qu´un seul souci C´est d´aller musarder Dans tous les beaux quartiers De Paris' À Paris, Francis Lemarque

One of those who canceled citing illness was Lady Cosmo Duff-Gordon, a fashion designer who had survived the sinking of the Titanic. Another designer, Philip Mangone, canceled for unspecified reasons. Years later he would find himself aboard the airship Hindenburg, on its fatal last flight; he survived, albeit badly burned. Otherwise, the Lusitania was heavily booked, especially in the lesser classes.

To do good to others because we want them to do good to us is essentially selfish. In time we must learn to do good regardless of how we are treated by others; as Christ said, we must love even our enemies.

Hypocrisy is what being a parent is all about,” Jon said. “Well done for cracking the books, Jared and Holly. You see how it pays off.” Holly smiled and the light of her smile seemed to spill all over the room, reflections of light refracted all over everywhere. “It’s true reading is a wonderful thing,” Rusty observed. “I read a Cosmo a year ago, and I still remember how to keep my nails in perfect condition and also ten top tips on how to dress to accentuate my ass.” Now everybody was staring at Rusty. Unlike Jared, he did not blush. “Those tips are working,” he said. “Don’t pretend you haven’t all noticed. I know the truth.

Sabism is thematic pallet, philosophical colourism, chromatic signature and dual art, bi-chromatic scale, soft scale, poetics of attractiveness, mythologism, actual value, logism of color, active color, logical panel.

How on earth could he not see it? It stood on the wooden floor behind him, in the corner just inside the door, where the light from the hallway poorly fell: an old-fashioned alarm clock with three blunt stumps for legs and a bell like a Prussian helmet. Its face, a faithful little moon, was turned up to her, its hands were spread to plead innocence, and its inner mechanism emitted without ceasing the rapid ribbon of blows called the passing of time.

Surprise! It actually felt pretty lousy to have a one-night stand, despite the fact that every so-called empowered friend and tattered waiting-room copy of Cosmo swore that no-strings-attached sex was nothing but fun, fun, fun.

il cieco cosmo gira senza meta dal nulla verso l'esistenza e dall'esistenza verso il nulla, indifferente, inconsapevole dei desideri o della stessa esistenza delle menti che per un istante proiettano uno sprazzo di luce nel buio.

Jane to Cosmo-- So you're thinking, you know, 'WTF, I thought we were going to do the horizontal mambo, and she has /questions/?' But really, I'm just keeping the conversation going until we can get into the bedroom, because I know that as soon as I touch you, I'm going to go up in flames, and I really don't want our first time to be on my office floor. Or on my desk. I mean, how would I ever get anything done again with that kind of vibe coming off of it?

Ray kept well away from the shed. He hated the loony gestures of the furniture, its bossiness, the way Maxine would shape a table to enclose the sitter at it, trapping him like a baby in a high chair or a school boy at his inkwell.

But in after days Cosmo repented of having so completely dropped the old gentleman's acquaintance; he was under obligation to him; and if a man will have to do only with the perfect, he must needs cut himself first, and go out of the world.

You know, everything adds up. It’s what I keep saying in my books and in Cosmo. If you do every little thing you can do in your own modest position, one thing leads to another. So do it and be it and write the letters and make the phone calls and get on with it.

She did not know that she was wishing for nothing more, and something a little less, than the kingdom of heaven—the very thing she thought the laird and Cosmo so strange for troubling their heads about. If men's wishes are not always for what the kingdom of heaven would bring them, their miseries at least are all for the lack of that kingdom.

Cosmo sank into a near trancelike state. The events of the past few days bounced around his head like blobs of oil in a lava lamp. Who was he now? Cosmo Hill fugitive no-sponsor, or Cosmo Hill Supernaturalist? Who was Cosmo Hill anyhow? A product of Clarissa Frayne, with no personality to speak of. Fourteen years old and he had never kissed a girl.

A young man came to a sage one day and asked, "Sire, what must I do to become wise?" The sage vouchsafed no answer. The youth after repeating his question a number of times, with a like result, at last left him, to return the next day with the same question. Again no answer was given and the youth returned on the third day, still repeat- ing his question, "Sire, what must I do to become wise?" Finally the'sage turned and went down to a near-by river. He entered the water, bidding the youth follow him. Upon arriving at a sufficient depth the sage took the young man by the shoulders and held him under the water, despite his struggles to free himself. At last, however, he released him and when the youth had regained his breath the sage questioned him: "Son, when you were under the water what did you most desire?" "The youth answered without hesitation, "Air, air! I wanted air!" "Would you not rather have had riches, pleasure, power or love, my son? Did you not think of any of these?" queried the sage. "No, sire! I wanted air and thought only of air," came the instant response. "Then," said the sage, "to become wise you must desire wisdom with as great intensity as you just now desired air. You must struggle for it, to the exclusion of every other aim in life. It must be your one and only aspiration, by day and by night. If you seek wisdom with that fervor, my son, you will surely beeome wise.

Facts produce structures, objects are lyrical realities.

My verse, my blood.

I did exhibitions with the Surrealists (in Paris, in 1929) because their attitude revolted against 'art' and their attitude toward life itself was wise, as was Dada’s.’ Hans Arp

It’s true reading is a wonderful thing,” Rusty observed. “I read a Cosmo a year ago, and I still remember how to keep my nails in perfect condition and also ten top tips on how to dress to accentuate my ass.” Now everybody was staring at Rusty. Unlike Jared, he did not blush. “Those tips are working,” he said. “Don’t pretend you haven’t all noticed. I know the truth.

Ma in nessuna delle sue fantasie avrebbe potuto immaginare di finire intrappolato in una realtà puramente mentale, con il mondo reale ridotto a una distesa di cenere e fumo sovrastata da nubi tossiche e gas. Uno sconfinato spazio di terra senza futuro, di acqua senza vita. Una silenziosa palla di roccia in orbita nel Sistema Solare, divenuta all'improvviso inospitale. La civiltà di Alex aveva percorso l'ultimo tratto del sentiero. Si era arresa alla Natura. Aveva obbedito impotente alle leggi del cosmo, spietate e uguali per tutti i possibili universi paralleli. Ma nelle pieghe dei ricordi, là dove tutto era già successo e il tempo non seguiva più un andamento lineare, continuava a echeggiare un rumore di fondo. Un flebile, piccolo e insignificante crepitio. L'eco lontana della speranza.

the slow, the vast fall of the Cosmos backward through the Zodiac, the so-called precession of the equinoxes—that unimaginably stately grand tour which would take some twenty thousand years longer, until once again the spring equinox coincided with the first degrees of Aries: where conventional astrology for convenience’s sake assumes it always to be, and where Hawksquill had found it fixed in her Cosmo-Opticon when she had first acquired the thing.

There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Hill opened it. Connor walked in wearing a dog costume. “What are you?” I asked him. He barked. “Guess.” “Krypto,” said Mrs. Hill. “Nope,” said Connor. “Lockjaw,” said Mrs. Hill. “Nope.” “Wonder Dog.” “Nope.” “Cosmo the Space Dog.” “Nope.” “Dylan Dog.” “Nope.” “Geez,” I said. “How many dog comic book characters are there?” “A lot,” said Mrs. Hill, then she jumped up and down. “Oh, oh, oh! Lucky the Pizza Dog!” “Yes!” said Connor.

And it occurs to me that I do not have to be fearless. Sometimes worry stays beneath your fur, in the small spaces that fear likes to hide - but I do believe that, with the right human by your side, it's possible to leap fearlessly into the unknown.

Quando nos perdemos na consideração de grandeza infinita do mundo no espaço e no tempo, quando meditamos nos séculos passados e vindouros, ou também quando consideramos o céu noturno estrelado, tendo inumeráveis mundos efetivamente diante dos olhos, e a incomensurabilidade do cosmo se impõe à consciência - então sentimo-nos reduzidos a nada, sentimo-nos como indivíduo, como corpo vivo, como aparência transitória da vontade, uma gota no oceano, condenados a desaparecer, a dissolvermo-nos no nada.

We sing lyrical excess, exacerbated expressionism, imponed objectivity, inventiveness, meta-baroque, extravaganza, super metaphor, sublimity, strident, exposure, super-pone, noise, super-objectivity, zillionism, fragmentation and aesthetics of facts, suractivism.

Nonsense, Cosmo, how can you talk so?’ exclaimed his sister. ‘I’m sure he isn’t sickly, even if he has got a little headache!’ She smiled encouragingly at Ambrose, sublimely unconscious of having offended all three Cliffes: Ambrose, because, however much he might dislike having an incipient boil pointed out, he was proud of his headaches, which often earned for him a great deal of attention; Cosmo, because he had for some years subscribed to his wife’s view of the matter, finding in Ambrose’s delicacy an excuse for his sad want of interest in any manly sport; and Emma, because she regarded any suggestion that her only child was not in a deplorable state of debility as little short of an insult.

Avete mai visto, nelle fredde notti d’inverno limpide come cristalli, certe luci che brillano più intensamente delle altre, come se volessero uscire da se stesse con il loro bagliore? Sembrano fatte di una materia diversa, di diamante appena tagliato, d’oro. E ci sono anche altre luci che non si riescono ancora a vedere, provenienti da galassie così lontane che il loro bagliore non ci è ancora arrivato, dalle regioni più estreme del nostro universo o da altri universi nati adesso o che addirittura non sono ancora nati o che sono increati. Sono le stelle che esplodono alla fine del loro ciclo, oppure combustioni avvenute miliardi di anni fa o che devono ancora avvenire e che daranno origine a nuove stelle e a nuovi mondi nella fornace del cosmo. Ecco, la luce di una di queste stelle, invisibile, sconosciuta, sta forse viaggiando a velocità vertiginosa nel buio dell’universo, precipita verso di noi attraverso i suoi immensi spazi oscuri e i suoi improvvisi bagliori, con la sua massa di gas incendiato e la sua chioma di cenere e d’oro, con tutta la furia della sua giovane luce. E poi un giorno, forse, la sua luce ci arriverà, e allora, forse, ci sarà anche chi la vedrà, e allora tutto lo spazio si aprirà, si riaprirà, e allora tutto il cielo si accenderà, e tutto l’universo risplenderà, la fornace della vitamorte si squarcerà, esploderà, splenderà, e allora non ci sarà nient’altro che quella nuova luce che ci sarà, fuoco e oro.

...one song, one note that heals the guilty chaos of our days, making sense of our loneliness, our perjured feelings, our sickness and our poverty, how we shall never be beautiful, how our heads will run over with unbearable secrets and how we are sentenced to this, serving us right -- when the song should end, be cut down, finished, and the singer not go on singing.

From an interview with Susie Bright: SB: You were recently reviewed by the New York Times. How do you think the mainstream media regards sex museums, schools and cultural centers these days? What's their spin versus your own observations? [Note: Here's the article Susie mentions: http://www.nytimes.com/2005/12/05/nat... ] CQ: Lots of people have seen the little NY Times article, which was about an event we did, the Belle Bizarre Bazaar -- a holiday shopping fair where most of the vendors were sex workers selling sexy stuff. Proceeds went to our Exotic Dancers' Education Project, providing dancers with skills that will help them maximize their potential and choices. This event got into the Times despite the worries of its author, a journalist who'd been posted over by her editor. She thought the Times was way too conservative for the likes of us, which may be true, except they now have so many column inches to fill with distracting stuff that isn't about Judith Miller! The one thing the Times article does not do is present the spectrum of the Center for Sex & Culture's work, especially the academic and serious side of what we do. This, I think, points to the real answer to your question: mainstream media culture remains quite nervous and touchy about sex-related issues, especially those that take sex really seriously. A frivolous take (or a good, juicy, shocking angle) on a sex story works for the mainstream press: a sex-positive and serious take, not so much. When the San Francisco Chronicle did its article about us a year ago, the writer focused just on our porn collection. Now, we very much value that, but we also collect academic journals and sex education materials, and not a word about those! I think this is one really essential linchpin of sex-negative or erotophobic culture, that sex is only allowed to be either light or heavy, and when it's heavy, it's about really heavy issues like abuse. Recently I gave some quotes about something-or-other for a Cosmo story and the editors didn't want to use the term "sexologist" to describe me, saying that it wasn't a real word! You know, stuff like that from the Times would not be all that surprising, but Cosmo is now policing the language? Please!

The establishment of a precise calendar was necessary for tax collection, the development of irrigation works, fixing the times of sowing and harvest, and so for determining when a war could be waged. (At the center of this, the problem of intercalation: the lunar calendar determined the months, but, since the twelve lunar months did not completely fill the solar year, there was a constant gap which was made up for gradually, and then in one go, with the intercalation of a thirteenth month.) At the level of an extended empire, these calculations and the decisions which followed from them could only be centralized. Cosmo- or theogonic knowledge was also linked to political power. [...] Linked to political power and the State apparatus in these two ways, knowledge is quite naturally located in the hands of functionaries: knowledge is a State service and political instrument. Hence its necessary secret character. It does not have to circulate or be widespread. It is linked directly to the possession of power.

Champagne?” It was the same waiter. “No thanks,” Cosmo Editor said. “Sure!” As I helped myself, a woman standing with her back to me turned around. It was the person I’d dreaded seeing all night: the Vice President of Marketing for this (major—major) beauty brand. Oh, no. Now my bosses at Lucky had essentially sent me here tonight to kiss up to this powerful, advertising-budget-controlling woman—the Vice President of Marketing, who not only detested me, but had recently seen me on drugs and in my underwear. It all went down on a weekend press trip to the Mayflower Spa in Connecticut, one of the most luxurious retreats on the East Coast. Other beauty editors and I were there for two nights as a guest of Vice President of Marketing and the beauty brand. The first night, there was a fancy dinner. I ate nothing. Then I wobbled back to my deluxe cottage, stripped off my clothes, popped a Xannie bar, boosted it with a strawberry-flavored clonazepam wafer I’d found stuck to a tobacco flake–covered Scooby-Doo fruit snack at the bottom of my grimy Balenciaga, and blacked out on top of the antique four-poster feather-top bed.

As sete artes liberais Atribuir a um currículo educacional um lugar no modelo do Universo pode parecer um absurdo à primeira vista; e seria um absurdo se os medievais tivessem tido o mesmo sentimento, a esse respeito, que temos quanto às matérias dos programas de ensino de hoje. Acontece que esse programa era tido como imutável; o número sete é numinoso; as Artes Liberais, por uma prescrição longa, haviam alcançado um status semelhante ao da própria natureza. As Artes, e também as Virtudes e os Vícios, eram personificados. A Gramática, com sua palmatória, está assentada com olhar altivo nos claustros de Magdalen. Dante no Convivia faz um entalhe cuidadoso das artes na estrutura do cosmo. A Retórica, por exemplo, corresponde a Vênus, pelo único motivo de que ela é "a mais amável de todas as disciplinas", soavissima di tutte le altre scienze. A Aritmética é como o Sol, pois, na medida em que este fornece luz para todas as demais estrelas, ela também fornece luz a todas as outras ciências, e como nossa visão fica turvada pela ação de sua luz intensa, da mesma forma nossa inteligência fica perplexa com a infinidade de números. E assim ocorre com as outras [matérias] (li, xiii),

Wait a second,” said Ash. “How is there a ‘moon in springtime before the start of the new year’? I think it’s a riddle. It makes no sense.” “Yes, it does,” said Jared. “The new year was in March in England until the 1700s, when the pope introduced a new calendar.” Everyone stared at him. Jared flushed slightly, scar thrown into relief, and muttered, “I read a lot of old books.” “Well done,” said Jon. “See where learning gets you, lads? So much better than messing around with girls or playing those video games which one hears are full of violence.” Kami, as a witness to many of her father’s video game marathons, gave him a long judgmental stare. “You total hypocrite.” “Hypocrisy is what being a parent is all about,” Jon said. “Well done for cracking the books, Jared and Holly. You see how it pays off.” Holly smiled and the light of her smile seemed to spill all over the room, reflections of light refracted all over everywhere. “It’s true reading is a wonderful thing,” Rusty observed. “I read a Cosmo a year ago, and I still remember how to keep my nails in perfect condition and also ten top tips on how to dress to accentuate my ass.” Now everybody was staring at Rusty. Unlike Jared, he did not blush. “Those tips are working,” he said. “Don’t pretend you haven’t all noticed. I know the truth.” Kami rolled up a magazine on the table—sadly, for the sake of dramatic irony, not a Cosmo—and hit Rusty over the head with it. “Does anybody have anything else to say—I can’t stress this enough—specifically about Elinor Lynburn and medieval New Year?” “Want to know what it was called? You’ll like this,” Jared added, and he looked at Kami. It was a simple glance from his gray eyes, but it felt like being put in a room that was just the two of them. “Lady Day.” Kami beamed at him. “You know what I like, sugarprune

They were empowered and fulfilled. They dated occasionally but were just as happy living the feminist dream of a professional woman not answerable to any man. Do what they wanted to, go where they wanted to and spend indecent amount of money on clothes and shoes, it was all good. There were not slaves to diets, shaving hairy legs, waxing eyebrows, dying their roots, endless showers, applying tons of make-up and trying to be domestic goddesses. They could slum around in leisure suits and runners reading Cosmo with a fag in their mouth and a cup of coffee in their hands. There could be slummy mummies or tidy queens or takeaway junkies it all depended on their daily rota and social live. Good, freedom was definitely good. One husband in a lifetime was enough for them

What you believe in isolation becomes true for you in isolation. A belief with another becomes true for you two that others can echo in concert. Judges' beliefs become true for the sentenced and beliefs societies share manifest all over the world. War, crime, ignorance, and sickness start with you or end forever.” -Cosmo Starlight

Hey!

I am going to become a writer for Cosmo—you don’t have to make any sense at all. Or maybe I’ll be a bloke, they don’t have to make any sense either.

Repentance is not merely behavior reform; neither is it something we do in a one-time salvation decision.

These choices are the product of spiritual maturity: The closer I press to the heart of God, the less I think of my Christian "liberty" and the more seriously I take my Christian responsibility.

Every decision matters for the gospel of Christ. You are a missionary, whether you wear that title or not – and your purity proclaims your gospel.

«Cosa fai in quella stanza tutto il giorno? Non sento più il rumore della macchina da scrivere.» «Medito sui misteri del cosmo, sopportandone il peso.»

watching.

Ask questions so you fully understand and speak clearly so you are fully understood. Assume nothing.

When Donald Trump's crude comments about women surfaced during his presidential campaign, these progressive university folk were among the first to criticize him. The same people who tell their students anything goes when it comes to sex acted offended in order to score political points. I'm not defending his comments--not at all--but since when did they care about the adverse [e]ffects of objectifying women? Why should Trump's comments come as a surprise when many of those same professors champion "sex weeks" on their respective campuses, replete with seminars that include porn stars and even prostitutes as guest speakers? Doesn't the feigned shock expressed by the progressive Left seem just a bit disingenuous when we know as empirical fact this same faculty has no compunction at all about using similar vulgar language in their classes and would quickly belittle and shout down any "prudish" conservative such as me who tried to say otherwise? Everything, from their celebration of The Vagina Monologues to the cover of Cosmo to the swimsuit edition of Sports Illustrated and nearly every beer commercial known to man, unapologetically portrays females as literal objects of sport to be enjoyed first and foremost for their body parts. So why the feigned outrage over Trump's comments?

Where in the self-help section of Barnes and Noble does one find a guide on dealing with a supernatural stalker?

But when the cosmo-in-a-glass came out, it was red, not pink. And our apple martinis were dark green when they should have been pale green. That may seem like no big deal, but it killed the product. No one knew what they were. They didn’t look like cosmos or apple martinis, so no one bothered. You see, I didn’t sweat the small stuff and it bit me in the ass. My partners convinced me that the color didn’t matter. Well guess what? It mattered! The business tanked and I lost money. Bottom line: if it doesn’t work perfectly, throw it out and get it right. Because if you don’t, one of your competitors will!

Monster

The combined chorus of humanity’s footprint had been silenced and that silence roared.

Don't spend time worrying about retirement. Invest your time planning for it.

Our goal with better understanding the past is not to predict the future but to see the present with clear eyes.

Infine la terra non è completamente il contrario della D: lo si vede già nel mistero del "natale", dove la terra come focolare ardeente, eccentrico o intenso, è fuori dal territorio e non esiste solo nel movimento della D. Ma, ancor di più, la terra, la glaciale, è la Deterritorializzata per eccellenza: in questo senso appartiene al cosmo e si presenta come il materiale attraverso il quale l'uomo capta forze cosmiche. Si dirà che la terra stessa in quanto deterritorializzata è lo stretto correlato della D.

Infine la terra non è completamente il contrario della Deterritorializzione: lo si vede già nel mistero del "natale", dove la terra come focolare ardeente, eccentrico o intenso, è fuori dal territorio e non esiste solo nel movimento della D. Ma, ancor di più, la terra, la glaciale, è la Deterritorializzata per eccellenza: in questo senso appartiene al cosmo e si presenta come il materiale attraverso il quale l'uomo capta forze cosmiche. Si dirà che la terra stessa in quanto deterritorializzata è lo stretto correlato della D.

Infine la terra non è completamente il contrario della Deterritorializzione: lo si vede già nel mistero del "natale", dove la terra come focolare ardeente, eccentrico o intenso, è fuori dal territorio e non esiste solo nel movimento della D. Ma, ancor di più, la terra, la glaciale, è la Deterritorializzata per eccellenza: in questo senso appartiene al cosmo e si presenta come il materiale attraverso il quale l'uomo capta forze cosmiche. Si dirà che la terra stessa in quanto deterritorializzata è lo stretto correlato della D.