Dade Quotes

Pitao jednom tako jednoga vrli pitac neki: A kto je ta sta je ta da prostis Gdje li je ta Odakle je Kuda je ta Bosna Rekti A zapitani odgovor njemu hitan tad dade: Bosna da prostis jedna zemlja imade I posna i bosa da prostis I hladna i gladna I k tomu jos Da prostis Prkosna Od Sna

Please tell me people who look like us can be loved. Please tell me people who look like us can be desired. Please tell me people who look like us can have happy endings.

But I'm not looking to be fixed. I want to be loved and liked and desired not because of my size, not despite my size, but because I'm ME

If you truly love me in return, accept me as I am. If you can't accept me as I am, maybe you need to rethink your definition of love.

Dade Kincaid is not afraid of the things of which the world is made.

I took pride in being the best dressed monster in Dade County.

Since approximately half the humans on this planet either have gotten or will get periods, I’ve always found that particular brand of squeamishness ridiculous.

Gay brothers and sisters,... You must come out. Come out... to your parents... I know that it is hard and will hurt them but think about how they will hurt you in the voting booth! Come out to your relatives... come out to your friends... if indeed they are your friends. Come out to your neighbors... to your fellow workers... to the people who work where you eat and shop... come out only to the people you know, and who know you. Not to anyone else. But once and for all, break down the myths, destroy the lies and distortions. For your sake. For their sake. For the sake of the youngsters who are becoming scared by the votes from Dade to Eugene.

Your lack of anger does not reliably indicate a lack of wrong done to you.

Sometimes I want to burn down the fucking world for what it’s done to you.

This is the best day of my fucking life!” he shouted. “Only! One! Bed! My second-favorite trope!

Carry yourself with the confidence of a mediocre white man.

Some scriptwriters believe death and misery and stagnation are more clever, more meaningful, and more authentic to reality than love and happiness and change. But life isn't all misery, and finding a path through hard, hard lives to joy is tough, clever, meaningful work.

she loved shiny things, always had. But he wasn't a diamond. Just fool's gold.

And since then, she’d spent decades giving away pieces of herself, because she didn’t matter. Not as much as everyone else.

Somewhere in her late thirties, her supply of fucks had become extremely limited.

Sometimes they blundered because their personal histories hadn’t taught them to be sensitive to certain issues. And sometimes they blundered because— Sometimes they blundered because they had trust issues. Major trust issues.

I am the only fucking person in this car and on this planet who can decide what my career is worth, he'd raged, offended fury in every syllable, and it's not worth my fucking soul.

Wren’s comfort was worth his discomfort.

I’m not sure posting pictures there is a great idea.” It was more or less the same advice April had received for more than thirty years: If people are cruel, make yourself smaller and smaller, until you’re so inconsequential no one can target you.

Love couldn't solve everything, but without love, there was nothing to solve.

No education is ever wasted. No experience is ever wasted. Your degrees and your jobs helped make you the woman you are, and as far as we’re concerned, you’re absolutely wonderful.

His home was filled with valuables, even if he currently felt worthless.

Male appreciation hardened his features from doubt to certainty. Boobs, the best negotiation strategy of them all. She thanked the Lord and her genetics for her great rack.

Then she threw back her head and laughed. The joyful sound floated through the evening sky, rich and warm, bright as the smile transforming her features into near-beauty, and— And he couldn’t seem to look away. Fuck, he couldn’t seem to look away.

It wasn't a lack of attraction to her husband that caused her problems. It was life. It was traffic. It was the Miami Dade Water and Sewer bills, it was trying to get ahead, and trying to be on time. Petty little thing, but zillions of them fused together.

She'd almost forgotten how it felt to squeeze into a space too cramped to contain her comfortably. She'd almost forgotten the specific pain of attempting to make herself as small as possible, contorting her arms and legs in a way that hurt her joints and made relaxation impossible. She'd almost forgotten the reality of her life.

It's not right on a societal level or even a professional level, but it is fine on a personal level. It has to be, because otherwise I'd spend my life angry and sad, and I don't want that for myself.

The best thing the world offered an ugly little girl was indifference. Pity stung exactly as much as insults, if not more, so she tried to avoid either. She tried to avoid notice. Even as a child, she’d understood it was important to stay quiet. Unobtrusive. And above all, undemanding.

We both know you can’t always trust your thoughts when you’re depressed.” His voice was quiet and calm, each word selected with care. “I understand that everything you just said to me feels like the truth right now, but it’s not, sweetheart. It’s not. It’s the unkindest possible interpretation of your life, and it only makes sense if you ignore all context.

As always, fatness was a sin, most likely mortal rather than venial.

My duty as an American forces me to buy Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups wherever I may find them.

They were going to cuddle for warmth? Holy shit. All his fanfic and real-life dreams had come true. This really was the best day ever.

Deset - petnaest godina kasnije čak će se i moj stari uvjeriti da svi postaju isti kad im se dade vlast i da je čovjek čovjek (odnosno govno), ma kojoj se ideologiji navodno priklanjao.

What do you think for dinner? I know it’s important I don’t show you up.” Something soft and red filled his lust-hazed vision. “With this first one, I can’t wear a bra because it’s backless…” She swapped it out for something dark. “…but this second one is a little low-cut. Bra or no bra?” Think, man, think. The fate of the universe depended on the answer to this question.

We’re getting you a dress. Time to Pretty Woman this shit.” He cracked his knuckles with relish. “I can’t wait until someone refuses to wait on you because you’re so obviously an unsophisticated oaf from Kansas or wherever–“ “North Hollywood. Basically just down this hill and over the next one.

I fucking love you, Wren, and you’re obviously my soulmate.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Of course it’s a goddamn soul mark. Have I taught you nothing, you obtuse harpy?” Delightful. Asshole.

There are moments like this when I allow myself to see the beauty I’d always foreclosed to myself. Part of me thinks that my ability to see it when I do is inseparable from the pain I feel, and when I think that, the pain suddenly isn’t so bad. The sun’s going to come up in the morning. I really don’t like myself a lot of the time, but sometimes I look back at the words I’ve written on my blog and elsewhere and I kind of smile at my own bullshit. I’ll grow up, and then I will come back to them again. It’s fine. I will be fine. There is a spastic firelight in everything. The trick is knowing where to find it.

Gripping her wrists, he pinned her tight to the vanity. “That sex as a weapon thing can only get you so far, Tess.” Wanna bet? “I’m not damaged, cowboy. I don’t have hang-ups about my body, I don’t use sex to mask my problems”—much—“and right now, if you don’t touch me in some very hot, very wet places, I might die.

She had shaved above the knee, packed her suitcase with her skimpiest lingerie, and the instructions on the Sexy Weekend Fun Box said, “Just Add Texan.” What she had not expected was Hunter putting her on a Tex-free diet.

I took pride in being the best-dressed monster in Dade County. Yes, certainly, he chopped up that nice Mr. Duarte, but he was so well dressed! Proper clothing for all occasions - by the way, what did one wear to attend an early morning decapitation? A day-old bowling shirt and slacks, naturally. I was à la mode. But aside from this morning's hasty costume, I really was careful. It was one of Harry's lessons: stay neat, dress nicely, avoid attention.

Staying level with Tess was going to require fast thinking, which was mighty difficult considering all the blood he needed for said thought processes was now hurtling south. “What would this job involve?” “Only one task. Make. Me. Believe.” “That I’m your fiancé?” Cue her smile, sly and sexy. First time she’d let him in on that action, too. “That you want me more than your next breath.” If she moved forward a couple of inches, his boner would make her believe.

some scriptwriters believe death and misery and stagnation are more clever, more meaningful, and more authentic to reality than love and happiness and change. But life isn’t all misery, and finding a path through hard, hard lives to joy is tough, clever, meaningful work.

But that kiss did more than turn her into a puddle of lust. It terrified her. Not because of how soul-searingly good it was, but because kisses like that don’t just happen. Kisses like that implied history and connection and bone-deep knowledge, and it made her question everything that had existed between them before.

I could just as easily have taken the train.” He shut his eyes, just long enough for a movie of a Tess-induced train riot to screen on the backs of his eyelids. Fists flying, teeth broken, friendships destroyed as men vied to get closer to her lush body barely covered in that incendiary French maid outfit. And now he was turning hard again.

Let me get this straight.” He braced his hands on the counter and leaned in closer to the clerk. “There’s only . . . one bed?” The young man blinked at him. “Yes, sir.” When Alex pumped his fists in triumph, punching the air, Lauren and the clerk both jumped. “This is the best day of my fucking life!” he shouted. “Only! One! Bed! My second-favorite trope!

Rain is the last thing you want when you're chasing someone in Miami. They drive shitty enough as it is, but on top of that, snow is a foreign concept, which means they never got the crash course in traction judgment for when pavement slickness turns less than ideal. And because of the land-sea temperature differential, Florida has regular afternoon rain showers. Nothing big, over in a jiff. But minutes later, all major intersections in Miami-Dade are clogged with debris from spectacular smash-ups. In Northern states, snow teaches drivers real fast about the Newtonian physics of large moving objects. I haven't seen snow either, but I drink coffee, so the calculus of tire-grip ratio is intuitive to my body.

We didn’t fail, just because the life we’d envisioned and thought would make us happy didn’t come to pass. We merely—” “Recalibrated,

Why do you listen to closely to everything I say, and then remember it?" He frowned down at her, reaching over to rumple her hair with his free hand. "It's all very unfair.

He was almost entirely certain he’d shifted far enough, but maybe she had some sort of preternatural erection detection ability?

Lauren wasn’t really into frosting, he’d learned, which was preposterous. Possibly un-American.

When he didn’t speak for a while, she laid her cheek on his head. “We can talk about that, if you want, or I can simply listen. Or we can stay like this, if silence would help.

Für mich ist es keine Kleinigkeit. Für mich ist es die ganze Welt. Ihre Freundschaft. Die ganze Welt und noch ein bisschen mehr.

I mean, if they didn’t love you, they probably wouldn’t flash their boobs at you quite so much.

Is that another Pretty Woman reference?” It totally was. “I can neither confirm nor deny that accusation.

The only way to save him was to leave him.

Just . . .” His fingers tightened on hers. “Just . . . hear me out until the end, and if I say something wrong, please let me explain myself.

Make like a dancing firefighter on a Vegas stage,” she said, “and strip.

But I’m not you, Peter. I need people I love around me every day to be happy.

But empathy requires imagination, and he didn’t have enough of either.

The synth speaks to my soul.

Dieting? No fucking way. Taunting the Grim Reaper? No problem!

But the universe wasn’t kind to anyone, in his admittedly non-comprehensive experience. At best, it was indifferent and chaotic, controlled by chance and forces still only dimly, incompletely understood by humankind. Which was why it required such careful, unceasing attention to stave off potential disaster. People were kind. Or they could be, anyway. That had to be enough.

My motto has always been: a hard man is good to find.” Tess gave Hunter’s unflinching bicep a gentle squeeze, claiming it and the man for her own. “And never let the bride stand in the way of me and my hard man.

Your virtue is in no danger." She shifted to her back and looked up at his handsome, craggy face. "Largely because it's already dead. I suspect you murdered it long ago." "There's always the possibility of zombie virtue.

The first time I walked into that library my jaw must have hit the marble floor. I had never seen such a place. So many books. And the smell. I had not realized that books had a smell. I stood with my eyes closed, taking in long, deep breaths. Mr. McDade, my English teacher, read my mind as he watched me that first day. "Smells like learning, doesn't it, Helen?" I smiled and nodded in agreement, sure that I could actually smell the words in the air.

If your personal history belonged to a friend, and they sat down and cried to you about it, we both know you wouldn’t think, ‘Wow, what a failure. What a waste her existence has been.’ So why can’t you be that kind to yourself?

But you knew about the rest of it. Unless you’re having amnesia issues. Which, incidentally, is another of my favorite fic tropes, so if you’re an amnesiac or want to pretend to be one, let me know, and we can have some fun with that.

Someone I know writes fanfic, and he— they want me to help proofread and give feedback on their stories. But I can’t give useful feedback unless I know what a good story looks like, so I’ve been reading fics about Cupid. The ones with the most kudos.

The Saroyan Stairs were special. Before leaving for Spain, he hadn’t anticipated sharing his late-night pilgrimages there with anyone. Not even Marcus, much as Alex loved his best friend. Lauren’s presence wasn’t an intrusion, though. It was a completion.

I love you. You can tell me it's too fast, too much, but that won't change anything. It's a fact. A scientific truth. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west, the tides come and go, we'll eventually grown old and die, and Lucas Karlsson loves Tess Dunn.

Let me make sure I'm understanding you correctly." Lauren turned from the computer monitor to frown at Alex. "You're telling me you want us to buy"--a quick glance back at the screen--"the Mondo Deluxe. AKA the Super Spreader. AKA a dildo the size of my forearm.

He knocked politely and entered the principal’s office with his dad face in full effect. He put his hand on my shoulder in a way that came off as both stern and proud. He was dad-ing it up for the principal, which I was actually a little grateful for, but it also made me mad.

Sometimes, late at night, when I find myself clicking through photos of the alumni events I didn’t attend, I’ll pull out my old coffee-stained copy of Still Life with Woodpecker and blink at the last line: It’s never too late to have a happy childhood. And perhaps safer if it isn’t your own.

To her mind, the owner of a spite house should spend her days reclining upon a sleek settee. One upholstered in satin, or possibly velvet brocade. Whichever fabric most clearly told observers I am a woman of both ineffable power and ineffable pettiness, and thus bought a fancy elongated chair-thing.

Majka Razmeđ' raskuć' raspuć' međ' ljude se skrio i unio nemir u dane sive Kad' li pod vrelim Suncem Pustinje puste i Pustoši grmne dječiji glas kao groban krik i pokrik – nerazumljivim glasom zove; kad' li s druge strane majka u naručje hitri k njemu i u plač se dade sretna što ga nađe „Vidite li milost ove majke prema djetetu svojemu“ – upita. „Vidimo milost ove majke Prema djetetu svojemu“ – rekoše. „E pa znajte“ – reče: „Gospodar vaš je milostiviji od ove majke prema djetetu svojemu i milostiviji je majci i milostiviji je djetetu i milostiviji je vama.“ Kad' li opet, oni u majku pogledaše

I thought . . . or maybe I hoped?” She hesitated. “Hoped is probably more accurate. Anyway, I kind of hoped you were, uh . . . past the point of wanting kids?” “Oh, thank fuck.” He exhaled in a rush, sagging with relief. “I don’t want kids either. I have zero desire to take on that responsibility, especially given how hectic and unpredictable our schedules can be.

And somewhere in that lazy stretch of time after the auction, she started laughing too. Not by accident. Not because the world became a significantly more amusing place over the course of a week or two. No, she started laughing because he’d formulated a new goal to define his days: He wanted to make her laugh as often as he frustrated her. Which was to say, frequently.

You want me to work out with you?” she asked. Before this moment, she’d thought— It didn’t matter. He was treading familiar ground now, digging the same poisoned well deeper and deeper yet, and she’d abandoned that particular spot long ago. She wasn’t going back. Not for anyone, and especially not for a man whose company already came fraught with endless complications and contradictions.

An inappropriate attraction to your friend’s fiancé was grounds for disbarment from the Woman Club. Neither did it make a lick of sense. He was uncouth, uneducated, uncivilized. All of their conversations back then had been unholy bicker fests where they charged from the opposite ends of the spectrum, determined not to meet in the middle but to rip pieces out of each other on the drive by.

If you ever decide to write your own scripts, a bit of advice to keep in mind: As we’re both aware—all too aware—some scriptwriters believe death and misery and stagnation are more clever, more meaningful, and more authentic to reality than love and happiness and change. But life isn’t all misery, and finding a path through hard, hard lives to joy is tough, clever, meaningful work. Yours sincerely, E. Wade.

One more.” Gently, he unwound his fingers from her hair. Then dropped to his knees. Oh, good. He’d read her mind. She laughed. “Peter, you knäppgök. You never need to ask if you can go down on me. The answer is always going to be yes. Always.” “I’m not—” Ducking his chin to his chest, he huffed out a laugh. “Only you, Maria. Only you would mistake a heartfelt declaration of love and proposal of marriage for an inquiry about licking your pussy. Shit.

Oni ti se ne mogu diviti zbog intelekta. Tomu je tako - no postoje brojne druge značajke, za koje ne možeš reći ''ali to nije način na koji sam stvoren''. Stoga pokazuj one vrline koje su ti potpuno podređene - vjerodostojnost, dostojanstvo, naporan rad, samoodricanje, zadovoljstvo, skromnost, blagost, neovisnost, jednostavnost, diskretnost, velikodušnost. Zar ne vidiš koliko vrlina možeš iskazati bez ijedne isprike zbog manjka nadarenosti ili sposobnosti? Unatoč tome i dalje se zadovoljavaš vući se na začelju. Ili te činjenica što ne posjeduješ nikakvu urođenu nadarenost obvezuje na nezadovoljstvo, škrtost, lasku, optuživanje vlastita nemoćnog tijela, ulizivanje, hvalu, na to da ti je um u tolikoj pomutnji? Ne, nebesa mu, ne obvezuje! Svega si se toga mogao još davno riješiti i nositi samo krivnju - ako to krivnja jest - što si pomalo spor i teže razumiješ. A čak se i na tome dade poraditi - osim ako ne zanemaruješ ili prihvaćaš vlastitu glupost.

Over the course of the 1970s conservatives made the endangered child into a kind of political and rhetorical abstraction, a way of thinking about the country and its citizens that could help advance a wide range of policy initiatives. They opposed the counterculture on the grounds that rock and roll caused adolescents to lose respect for family life. They promoted the War on Drugs with racially tinged morality tales about addicted inner-city mothers and, crucially, the “superpredator” “crack babies” to whom those mothers supposedly gave birth. (That particular epidemic was later shown to be a myth.)40 And when Anita Bryant led a campaign to allow Dade County to discriminate against homosexuals in hiring teachers for public schools, she named the effort “Save Our Children.” The fear that tied all of these campaigns together was of the ease with which children could be victimized or else corrupted and turned against the society that was supposed to nurture them.

Satni mehanizam, koji se metodično izokretao i nadimao, sada je sav u nježnim nijansama bijele i sive. I nije sastavljen od običnih dijelova, već od likova i predmeta, savršeno izrezbarenog cvijeća, planeta i sićušnih knjiga s pravim papirnatim stranicama koje se dade okretati. Tu su i srebrni zmaj, svijen oko jednog dijela sada vidljivog satnog mehanizma, sićušna kraljevna što uzrujano hoda po izrezbarenoj kuli čekajući kraljevića, koji nikako da stigne, i čajnici koji u šalice nalijevaju čaj iz kojega se odbijajući sekunde izdižu minijaturni pramenčići pare. Umotani se darovi odmataju. Maleni psi naganjaju malene mačke. Cijela šahovska partija. U središtu mehanizma, na mjestu na kojem bi u kakvom običnom kronometru obitavala kukavica, stoji žongler. Odjeven poput harlekina sa sivom maskom, žonglira svjetlucavim sivim lopticama čiji broj odgovara broju sati. Kako ura odbija sate, tako se lopticama kojima barata pridružuju nove, sve dok – u ponoć – po složenom obrascu ne počne žonglirati s njih dvanaest. Nakon ponoći sat se počinje sklapati. Površina posvjetljuje i oblaci se vraćaju. Sve je manje žonglerskih loptica, a ma kraju iščezava i sam žongler. Do podneva sat prestaje biti bajka i ponovo postaje običan sat.

The scouting activities on the eastern side of the peninsula of Florida came out of Fort Dallas, Fort Lauderdale, and Fort Capron, near modern-day Vero Beach, Florida. Colonel Justin Dimick was in charge of most of these operations for the main portion of the war. Under him served Captain John Brannan and Captain Abner Doubleday. The men of this command covered much of the area in today’s Broward and Dade Counties and found little to encourage them. Scouting consisted of taking canoes up the Miami or New River into the Everglades and

I want a product. An exponent. I want one plus one to equal eighty, or a thousand, or infinity.

Millie! Millie, don’t leave me! But she’s past answering.

He took a moment to gather himself, because this was what a parent did. You had to love a child with every ounce of your being, care for them and protect them, and try your damnedest to help them become what they were meant to be, rather than what you might have expected or wanted from them. Try your damnedest to help them become an adult capable of navigating the world in pursuit of their own happiness, independently of you.

The shindig lasted into the wee hours. Food tables a disaster zone. Liquor flowing like a faucet. Skee-Balls flying off the table and ping-pong balls being crushed. Then it was time for the hugs and tears. Serge held each of his neighbors by the shoulders, promising never to forget them and that yes, someday he would return. Then it was that moment. Serge and Coleman waved back at everyone gathered outside the condo as they climbed into the Galaxie, speeding off through Key Largo, then onto the “Eighteen-Mile” into Florida City and Homestead, and another long run up Krome Avenue through the endless agricultural expanses with those massive sprinkler machines. Their windows were down, whipping their hair with brisk atmosphere. In the crisp pre-dawn blackness of four a.m., they pulled up to a stoplight at the intersection with the Tamiami Trail. No cars. To the right, the Dade Corners truck stop and airboat culture store. Ahead to the left, the still ridiculously out-of-place Miccosukee casino. The traffic light was unusually long, as was usual, and the cool breeze continued blowing through the open windows. They were at one of those few Florida places that could genuinely be described by any

world-class perfumer can identify over a thousand different scents, mostly by associating smells with specific memories. I worked on that a little. Learned about the history of perfume. Watched one woman grind ambergris with a mortar and pestle too, just for kicks.” “What is ambergris?” she asked. “I’ve always wondered.” He smirked at her. “Hardened whale feces that washes onshore.

Haulin Assets Moving is a full-service moving company in Florida. We know that moving can be stressful, so it’s our goal to take the moving part of it off your plate. In Broward County, Coral Springs, Fort Lauderdale, Hollywood, Miami-Dade County, Palm Beach County, Wilton Manors and the surrounding areas, we offer our moving services.

When you’re fat, doctors propose weight loss as a solution to everything. Joint pain, strep throat, broken arms, spider bites, the bubonic plague, whatever.” With a near-silent sigh, she dropped her arms back to her sides. “Since I have no intention of dieting, there’s no point.

He tugged her hand to his mouth, and his lips pressed against her palm. “Thank you.

When I witness certain moments I believe I am a voyeur to the memories being made, and it makes me sad

STARA SLIKA Bojni redi – sve momak do momka; Al bi bili valjani kopači! Bojni topi – gvoždje potraćeno; Al bi bili valjani orači! A telećak – ao kože puste, Al bi bila torba milosnica, Što je babo darovima puni Na badnjake i u dane svake, Kad se vesô svomu pragu vraća! *** – Desno! – L'jevo! – – Naprijed! – – Teško je, al Zapov'jed! Kano str'jela Juri red; Puška s puškom Upored... Stani! – Stade Kano zid – Kamen t'jelo, Kamen vid..... „Čuješ, Ivo! – šapće Jovo – U grlu me pali: A panem li, podaj Mari Ovaj prsten mali. I maramu, što mi dika Na oproštaj dade, I taj cv'jetak sa livade, Gdje joj dragan pade“. „„Čuješ, Jovo! – šapće Ivo – Nesrećno sam snivo; Pokojni me moj babajko U čelo cjelivo. A panem li – ti se vratiš – Pozdravi mi majku I odnesi pozdrav ovi Na groblje babajku““. Jedan časak – još su ljudi; Drugi časak – krv iz grudi; Treći časak i – nebo se stresa, To već nisu ljudi, Već hrpe od mesa! *** A u selu Preko devet gora i planina Jedna baka čeka sina, A djevica svoju diku b'jelu. O duvaru slika visi, Pred njom žiža sije, U nju glede, u nju pilje Seljakinje dvije – – I gle čuda! zaljulja se Ona slika stara, Zaljulja se, s klina zdrava Pade sa duvara. A sirotam ko da srce Puče sr'jedom sr'jede; Ne, ne plaču, tek se samo Ko dv'je lude glede... A po selu Ide priča; gata se i baje; Plaču seje, ljube, maje – Ko u selu, Gdje se svašta Pod istinu i prima i daje! A van sela Vele: To su selske trice! Ta dakako Tko bi plako, Ako kakva slika pade, Il protuže kukavice!

Adolescence is an exercise in coveting what exists just beyond our grasp; it is this inaccessibility that sustains its magic.

Being a woman didn’t obligate her to make men—or anyone—comfortable in her presence.

You can be more alone in a bad relationship than if you’d never dated anyone at all.

Ron and R.J. cast two fat actors for characters not originally specified as fat in the books,” Ivarsson explains. “That never happens, and the showrunners deserve an enormous amount of credit for their decision. It’s a real step forward for body diversity in Hollywood. I’m especially delighted because fat acceptance is a passion of mine, as followers of my social media accounts can attest.