D'line Quotes

Don't be afraid of me, Sahara." Bending his head, he spoke with his lips against hers, the contact igniting a thousand tiny lightning strikes in her blood. "I'd line the streets with bodies before I'd ever hurt you.

If you need time, take it. If you want to date other people, do it. I won’t interfere. I didn’t appreciate you when I had you, and that’s my cross to bear. But you’ll always be the love of my life, and I’ll always be here, whether it’s a month, a year, or a lifetime from now.” The sound of her sob dampened my cheek with something hot and wet. “There are probably hundreds of men who’d line up for the chance to be with you. I only ask that you let me be one of them.

I'd line the streets with bodies before I'd ever hurt you.

I’d line the streets with bodies before I’d ever hurt you.

There are probably hundreds of men who’d line up for the chance to be with you. I only ask that you let me be one of them.

And over my head,” relates Squire Haligast, “it form’d an E-clipse, an emptiness in the Sky, with a Cloud-shap’d Line drawn all about it, wherein words might appear, and it read,— ‘No King . . .

People suck, and life is exceedingly difficult and unpredictable. Most of us are winging it as we go, if not completely lost. And if we didn’t have some false belief in our own superiority (or inferiority), a deluded belief that we’re extraordinary at something, we’d line up to swan-dive off the nearest bridge.

Listening to the radio, I heard the story behind rocker David Lee Roth’s notorious insistence that Van Halen’s contracts with concert promoters contain a clause specifying that a bowl of M&M’s has to be provided backstage, but with every single brown candy removed, upon pain of forfeiture of the show, with full compensation to the band. And at least once, Van Halen followed through, peremptorily canceling a show in Colorado when Roth found some brown M&M’s in his dressing room. This turned out to be, however, not another example of the insane demands of power-mad celebrities but an ingenious ruse. As Roth explained in his memoir, Crazy from the Heat, “Van Halen was the first band to take huge productions into tertiary, third-level markets. We’d pull up with nine eighteen-wheeler trucks, full of gear, where the standard was three trucks, max. And there were many, many technical errors—whether it was the girders couldn’t support the weight, or the flooring would sink in, or the doors weren’t big enough to move the gear through. The contract rider read like a version of the Chinese Yellow Pages because there was so much equipment, and so many human beings to make it function.” So just as a little test, buried somewhere in the middle of the rider, would be article 126, the no-brown-M&M’s clause. “When I would walk backstage, if I saw a brown M&M in that bowl,” he wrote, “well, we’d line-check the entire production. Guaranteed you’re going to arrive at a technical error.… Guaranteed you’d run into a problem.” These weren’t trifles, the radio story pointed out. The mistakes could be life-threatening. In Colorado, the band found the local promoters had failed to read the weight requirements and the staging would have fallen through the arena floor.

If you were to place a map of white evangelical Protestants over maps of women dying young and overdosing on drugs and going without jobs, they'd line up.

Having hit on this “theory,” I began to recognize checklists in odd corners everywhere—in the hands of professional football coordinators, say, or on stage sets. Listening to the radio, I heard the story behind rocker David Lee Roth’s notorious insistence that Van Halen’s contracts with concert promoters contain a clause specifying that a bowl of M&M’s has to be provided backstage, but with every single brown candy removed, upon pain of forfeiture of the show, with full compensation to the band. And at least once, Van Halen followed through, peremptorily canceling a show in Colorado when Roth found some brown M&M’s in his dressing room. This turned out to be, however, not another example of the insane demands of power-mad celebrities but an ingenious ruse. As Roth explained in his memoir, Crazy from the Heat, “Van Halen was the first band to take huge productions into tertiary, third-level markets. We’d pull up with nine eighteen-wheeler trucks, full of gear, where the standard was three trucks, max. And there were many, many technical errors—whether it was the girders couldn’t support the weight, or the flooring would sink in, or the doors weren’t big enough to move the gear through. The contract rider read like a version of the Chinese Yellow Pages because there was so much equipment, and so many human beings to make it function.” So just as a little test, buried somewhere in the middle of the rider, would be article 126, the no-brown-M&M’s clause. “When I would walk backstage, if I saw a brown M&M in that bowl,” he wrote, “well, we’d line-check the entire production. Guaranteed you’re going to arrive at a technical error.… Guaranteed you’d run into a problem.” These weren’t trifles, the radio story pointed out. The mistakes could be life-threatening. In Colorado, the band found the local promoters had failed to read the weight requirements and the staging would have fallen through the arena floor. “David Lee Roth had a checklist!” I yelled at the radio.

And soon I was getting involved in one of the most amazing projects. Someone asked me to help design the digital part of the first hotel movie system, which was based on the very earliest VCRs. No one had VCRs then, of course. I was thinking, Oh my god! This is going to be incredible—designing movies for hotels! I couldn’t get over it. Their formula was this. They’d line up about six VCRs. Then they had a method of sending special TV channels to everybody’s room. They could play the movies on those channels. There was a filter in each room to block those channels. But the hotel clerk in the lobby could send a signal to unlock the filter in a particular room. Then the guest could watch the movie they ordered on their TV. Someone in the VCR room had to literally start the movie, but this was still a really cool system.

Sometimes you can love someone but not fit with them. It’s the way of the world. And really, there’s no one true person for anyone, despite what the telly might have you believe. There’s a whole host of people who’d line up just fine.

Revenues were on pace to quadruple over the previous year, bolstered by the success of its D&D and AD&D lines, and supported with new, strong-performing products like 1978’s Gamma World: Science Fantasy Role-Playing Game and 1980’s Top Secret,

assortment of knives he’d lined up on the glossy Victorian dressing table, gone.  A folded piece of paper was placed in the middle of the dresser, leaning against a tarnished silver candle stick. Her name was written on it in untidy script, scratchy and blotchy from Lachlan not knowing how to deal with a ballpoint pen. With a catch in her throat, she picked up the paper but didn’t unfold it. She just couldn’t, not right now. She had to find him. This letter was not goodbye. Instead she folded it over again and put it into her front pocket, brushing the wrapped book stuffed into

And if you were to place a map of white evangelical Protestants over maps of women dying young and overdosing on drugs and going without jobs, they’d line up. Poor white people with the least education, who live in areas with high concentrations of evangelical Protestants, are the ones who are dying young.

Although, he was searching for his favorite suit this morning, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I’d lined your nest with it.

Pindor chuckled and gave his agreement before he shook the half-ogre’s hand. I offered my own to the young mage as well and was pleased to find he’d learned the importance of a firm grip. “Look after the girls, I guess,” I told him, but as I thought back to the sight of Mina and Deli melting down an ice giant in a flash of flames and diamond dust, I furrowed my brows. “Well … maybe not. Just try and keep up.” I sent the young mage a wink as he shook his head and turned to board the train, and the young Ignis Mages waved happily to us from their places on the metal benches I’d lined the train cars with. I waved back, but as I turned to head into the mines, I heard the three of them shriek in surprise. Haragh chuckled at my back. “You melted their damn seats didn’t ye’?” “Of course I did,” I said with a smirk, then I sighed. “I’m gonna miss those kids.

You'll be fine," she said to Rico when they got back, because he was still studying her and trying to make sense of her bizarre swings. "Cooking eggs is a standard test of basic cooking skill." "I know I'll be fine," he said, the full blast of his focus mapping her relief. The emeralds in his eyes were too bright. The way they had been that first time they'd met under the bleachers. The need to see what no one else cared to see inside her, intense and naked. It had disarmed her then. Today, it infuriated her. Made her brain forget the camera. Made her hands fly. She broke the eggs in a clean one-handed crack, whipped them ruthlessly into a thick froth, chopped the onions, cilantro, and green chilies in an unrelentingly brutal rhythm. All without breaking a sweat or sparing him a glance. With minutes to spare from the mere twenty they were given, she turned out a fluffy and perfectly moist omelet with garlic-infused oil rolled into a crisp, flaky paratha. Until they stood in front of the judges, she had forgotten where she was, who she was with. The only place the livid energy inside her seemed to have manifested itself was in what the judges declared "abject underseasoning." This made Ashna smile. When she looked at Rico, he was having the same reaction. For one quick meeting of their eyes, the ridiculously overdramatic statement joined them together with shared humor. His lips tilted up on one side. For the first time since they'd lined up to hear the challenge, she took a full breath.