Ealing Quotes

Omally, as ever, slept the sleep of the just, which was quite unjust of him, considering he had no right to do it.

...[R]eal wisdom is the property of God, and... human wisdom has little or no value.

spend the remainder of the day in the Library of the Patent Office. He will be home at Somerset Road, Ealing, in time for tea. He will spend the evening in the workshop, working on the current model. He has achieved the type of life that he desires; he wants no other. He is perfectly, supremely happy.

It was only an 'opeless fancy, It passed lika an Ipril dye, But a look an' a word an' the dreams they stirred They 'ave stolen my 'eart awye!' They sye that time 'eals all things, They sye you can always forget; But the smiles an' the tears across the years They twist my 'eart-strings yet!

[R]eal liberation comes not from glossing over or repressing painful states of feeling, but only from experiencing them to the full.… By accepting the darkness, the patient has not, to be sure, changed it into light, but she has kindled a light that illuminates the darkness within. By day no light is needed, and if you don’t know it is night you won’t light one, nor will any light be lit for you unless you have suffered the horror of darkness.

This was a favourite dress, one of Sally Parker's, the last almost she ever made, alas, for Sally had now retired, living at Ealing, and if ever I have a moment, thought Clarissa (but never would she have a moment any more), I shall go and see her at Ealing.

Cops and Robbers in 1965 England was still a kind of Ealing comedy: crimes rarely involved firearms. The denizens of F-wing were losers in a game they had been playing against the cops. In queues for exercise, the constant questions were 'What you in for, mate?', followed by 'What you reckon you'll get?' When Freddie and I responded with 'Suspicion of drug possession' and 'We're innocent, we'll get off' they would burst into laughter, offering: 'Listen, mate, they wouldn't have you in here if they had any intention of letting you off. You're living in dreamland, you are.

Pentru el, universul nu era mai mare decat circumferinta matasoasa a fustei ei; isi reprosa ca n-o iubeste, i se facea dor s-o vada iar; si se intorcea repede, urca scara cu inima batand. Emma, in camera ei, isi facea toaleta; el intra cu pasi usori, o saruta pe spate, iar ea scotea un tipat. Nu se putea opri sa-i atinga tot timpul pieptenele, inelele, salul; uneori ii saruta zgomotos obrajii sau o coplesea cu un sirag de sarutari marunte de-a lungul bratului gol, din varful degetelor pana la umar; ea-l respingea, pe jumatate zambitoare si plictisita, ca pe un copil care se tine scai. Inainte sa se marite crezuse ca simtea iubire; dar fericirea care ar fi trebuit sa rezulte din aceasta iubire nefacandu-si aparitia, insemna ca s-a inselat, gandea ea. Si Emma incerca sa afle ce se intelegea de fapt in viata prin cuvinte ca desfatare, patima si betie, care i se parusera atat de frumoase in carti.

she had always considered that, far from the world of Ealing and its county councillors who over-ate and neighed like stallions, there were bright colonies of beings, chaste, beautiful in thought, altruist and circumspect. And, till that moment, she had imagined

Peale selle võin nende tõekspidamiste alusel nii selgesti mõista kurjategijat ja ta süütegu: võin puhtsüdamlikult andestada esimesele, kuigi ma jälestan teist. Ka ei lase need tõekspidamised eales kättemaksul mu südamerahu eksitada, alandusel liiga sügavasti mind solvata, ülekohtul ilmaski mind liiga maha rusuda, — meelerahus käin ma oma elurada lõpuni.

the postal official, said, ‘Pray continue, Mr Hill.’ Hill took a deep breath. ‘In answer to your question, Ma’am, as to why the postage should cost the same no matter the distance travelled, I say this: should a girl in Edinburgh writing to her sweetheart in London pay more than the one who lives in Ealing? Should the merchant in Manchester pay more to write to

Never! Never! There is no man at Ealing West! There never was a man at Ealing West!" It was at this point that Jno. Peters began for the first time to entertain serious doubts of the girl's mental balance. The most elementary acquaintance with the latest census told him that there were any number of men at Ealing West. The place was full of them. Would a sane woman have made an assertion to the contrary? He thought not, and he was glad that he had the revolver with him. She had done nothing as yet actively violent, but it was nice to feel prepared.

Joseph also administered the new, secret rite of the Second Anointing for chosen couples upstairs at the store. He sealed polygamous marriages in the second-floor office, never revealing them to the Saints at large. Smith and Brigham Young kept coded records of these events, sometimes using pseudonyms. In his diary, Smith occasionally called himself “Baurak Ale.” To record his marriages, Young might write “saw E. Partridge,” a code which meant “[s]ealed [a]nd [w]ed Emily Partridge,” or “ME L. Beaman,” which would mean “married for eternity Louisa Beaman.” One of Joseph’s plural wives, Willard Richards’s sister Rhoda, lived in the store, which was also the site of Brigham Young’s soon-to-be-famous, botched seduction of British teenager Martha Brotherton.

Their ride back to Ealing was quiet. She avoided looking at him, while he couldn’t seem to stop looking at her. He tried to engage her in conversation, but the tart-tongued angel was in hiding, and he didn’t know how to get her back. Even Freddy must have realized that something had changed, for he kept his inane chatter to a minimum. By the time they reached Halstead Hall, Oliver’s nerves were on edge. He was relieved that he could excuse himself to go work in his study on the ledgers he’d ignored last night, but he didn’t get very far. Even after an hour of turning pages and noting transactions, he kept hearing Maria’s sighs of pleasure, kept seeing her teasing smile as she said, “Would you offer to ravish me?” Damned right he would. A knock came at the door, jerking him from his disturbing reverie. As he glanced at the clock, shocked to discover that two hours had passed, Jarret entered and strolled over to the desk. “Amazing,” the scapegrace said. “When the servant said you were in here working, I thought surely I’d misheard him.” “Very amusing.

Ac þu ðe fortruwudest for þinre rihtwisnesse and for þinum godan willan; wendest þæt þe nanwuht unrihtlices on becuman ne meahte, swelce þu wolde þa lean eal þinra godena weorca on þisse weoruld habban. Hu meahtest þu sittan on middum gemænum rice þæt ðu ne sceolde þæt ilce ge þolian þæt oðre men? Hu meahtes þu bion on midre þisse hwearfunga þæt ðu eac mid ne hwearfode? Hwæt singað þa leoðwyrhtan oðres be ðisse woruld buton mislica hwearfunga þisse worulde? Hwæt is þe ðonne þæt þu þærmid ne hwearfie? Hwæt recstu hu ge hwearfigen nu ic siemle mid þe beo? Đe wæs þios hwearfung betere forðæm þæt ðe þissa woruldsælða to wel ne lyste, and þæt ðu þe eac betre na gelefde. Đeah þæm feohgitsere cume swa fela welena swa þara sondcorna bið be þisum sæclifum, oþþe þara steorrena ðe þiostrum nihtum scinað, ne forlæt he þeah no ða seofunga þæt he ne seofige his ermða. Þeah nu God gefylle þara weligra monna willan ge mid golde ge mid seolfre ge mid eallum deorwyrðnessum, swa ðeah ne bið se ðurst gefylled hiora gitsunga. Ac sio grundlease swelgend hæfð swiðe mænegu westu holu on to gadrianne. Hwa mæg þæm wedendan gietsere genoh forgifan? Swa him mon mare selð, swa hine ma lyst.

Trup ostenit, picioarele - o rană, Drumul e lung, munții pierduți în fum; Amurgul cu posomorâtă geană Orfanului sărman îi cade-n drum. De ce mă sfâșie surghiun și plângeri, Tot printre stânci, prin mlaștina ursuză? Au inimi aspre oamenii; voi, îngeri Orfanului îi sunteți călăuză. Dar vântul serii liniștit adie, Senin e cerul, stelele-s ivite; În mila lui doar Dumnezeu mă știe, Căci el e al orfanului părinte. Chiar dac-ar fi și-n mlaștini aș rămâne, Eu împăcat îmi voi primi destinul. Tatăl din cer va fi mereu cu mine, El îi va da orfanului alinul, Acesta-i gândul ce mă-mbărbătează, Deși părinții mei sunt azi morminte. Cămin mi-e cerul, el îmi stă de pază, Căci Domnul e-al orfanului părinte.

You look like a goddess,” he murmured as he raked his eyes down her form. And she melted into a puddle. “Thank you.” She tried to sound cool and sophisticated. “I much prefer wearing a gown that’s not too tight.” “Except where it should be.” He dropped his gaze pointedly to her bosom. The frank admiration in his eyes made her glad that she’d let Betty guide her choice for tonight. After that other scandalous gown, she’d been reluctant to wear anything low cut, but this one did look beautiful on her, even with its décolletage. Salmon had always been a good color for her, and the satin rouleaux trim made her feel pretty and elegant. “So it’s presentable enough for dinner with your family?” she asked. “They don’t even deserve to see you in it.” The low rumble of his voice made her breath catch in her throat. “I only wish that you and I could-“ “You do look lovely,” said another voice. Lord Gabriel came up from behind Oliver, dressed all in black as usual. A look of pure mischief crossed his face. “Sorry I’m late, Miss Butterfield, but thank you, brother, for keeping her company until I arrived.” Oliver glared at him. “What the devil do you mean?” “I’m taking the young lady down to dinner.” “That office should be left to her fiancé, don’t you think?” Oliver bit out. “Pretend fiancé. You have no real claim on her. And since you had her to yourself all day…” Lord Gabriel offered his arm. “Shall we, Miss Butterfield?” Maria hesitated, unsure what to do. But Oliver was a danger to her sanity, and his brother wasn’t. So she was better off with Lord Gabriel. “Thank you, sir,” she said, taking his arm. “Now just wait one blasted minute. You can’t-“ “What? Be friendly to our guest?” Lord Gabriel asked, his face a mask of innocence. “Really, old boy, I didn’t realize it mattered that much. But if it upsets you to see Miss Butterfield on the arm of another man, I’ll certainly yield the field.” Lord Gabriel’s words seemed to give Oliver pause. Glancing from Maria to his brother, he smiled, though it didn’t nearly reach his eyes. “No, it’s fine,” he said tightly. “Perfectly fine.” When they headed down the hall with Oliver following behind, Lord Gabriel flashed her a conspiratorial glance. She wasn’t sure what the conspiracy was, but since it seemed to irritate Oliver, she went along. The incident was only the first in a series that continued throughout the week. Whenever she and Oliver found themselves alone, even for a moment, one of his siblings popped up to offer some entertainment-a stroll in the gardens, a ride into Ealing, a game of loo. With each instance, Oliver grew more annoyed, for no reason that she could see. Unless… No, that was crazy.

Rio would be your man,' said John. 'Dusky maidens rolling green cigars upon their bronzed thighs. A train-robber chum of mine has his lodgings thereabouts. The climate so they say is ideal for the professional drinking man or the unemployed war criminal.

Neville the part-time barman awoke after an absence of some eleven chapters.

Wise up,' said Sherlock Holmes. 'These mothers mean business.