Fable 3 Quotes

Ladies first" Mina Hesitated. "Uh, age before beauty." "Grimms never win." "Prince before pauper." "Oh, fine. Just don't say chivalry is dead. 'Cause you had your chance.

But here the correlation with Beauty and the Beast ends. In the fable, the beauty kisses the beast. In the Bible, the beauty does much more. He becomes the beast so the beast can become the beauty. Jesus changes places with us. We, like Adam, were under a curse, but Jesus "changed places with us and put himself under that curse" (Gal. 3:13).

Jared's gray eyes bore into hers. His face filled with emotion, and his eyes looked to be just as tear-filled. "Do you really not know the reason why I came? I came back for you. I'll always come back for you.

Sometimes love is worth fighting for. And if you don’t fight for it, then it slips through your fingers.

A thousand sweet words can never disguise the rattle of a viper about to strike.

She held up the arrow again and threatened the bird. "You do anything, ignite a single spark, and I'm having Kentucky Fried Chicken for dinner.

If biscuits were stories, I'd bake a pan of piping hot fables right this second." (Bertie)

The action is played out on the golden horizon between reality and legend, the beguiling penumbra where fable and fact coexist.

Fables from before the Anaheiming.

For me, Satan and a literal hell are fables born of Christianity’s desire to control humanity by increasing its fear of death.

Nan was shocked. "What a jerk! Mina, you must feel awful. He didn't try to take advantage of you, did he? I'm so mad- I want to go searching for him and give him a piece of my mind, and a kick in the rear. And Brody, why did you bring such a loser for Mina to date?

The dragon flew up and settled in the crook of Mina’s hood, and quickly became invisible again. “I don’t trust that thing,” Jared shot back. “Relax, I find him quite cute. Isn’t that right, Ander?” She held up a finger and felt the invisible dragon rub its face against her. “Great, you’ve named it, now you’re gonna want to keep it. But I’m telling you that thing better be house-trained.” He turned to the bookshelf and began to pull open the book to open the hidden exit door. Mina felt Ander leave her shoulder but didn’t let Jared know he was missing. She saw Constance’s teacup float mysteriously above Jared’s head. She clapped her hand over her mouth to contain the laughter. A second later the cup turned over, spilling lukewarm tea on Jared’s unsuspecting head. “Oh, it better not have just peed on me!” he screamed.

It took every ounce of Mina’s willpower not to do a face plant into the table.

The devil does not exist. I do not believe he exists. Nor do I believe the old saying that the devil's greatest accomplishment was to convince the majority of mankind that he does not exist. For me Satan and a literal hell are fables born of Christianity's desire to control humanity by increasing its fear of death. After all, I'm five thousands years old and I've never met Satan.

This is illustrated by one of Aesop’s fables, which says that each of us is born with two sacks suspended from our neck: one filled with the faults of others that hangs within our view and one hidden behind our back filled with our own faults. We see the flaws of others quite clearly, in other words, but we have a blind spot for our own. The New Testament likewise asks why we look at the tiny splinter of wood in our brother’s eye yet pay no attention to the great plank of wood obscuring our own view (Matthew 7:3–5).

Jared's gray eyes bore into hers. His face filled with emotion, and his eyes looked to be just as tear-filled. 'Do you really not know the reason why I came? I came back for you. I'll always come back for you.

Ever flipped out and began to dance around in excitement when she saw that the theater also sold packages of Pixie Stix.

You don’t need a weapon,” he said. “You are your greatest weapon.

Does he not know that even a pawn can take down the queen?

I’m sorry if I have the emotional stability of a teeter-totter right now, but that’s better than you, who has the emotional maturity of a rock.

And even though his brother taunted him, Jared never took his eyes off her. Her heart soared! He’d come for her! He hadn’t abandoned her. She was going to have quite a few angry words with him later, but for now, since her Jared was here, she knew they would be all right.

The story of declining school quality across the twentieth century is, for the most part, a fable,” says social scientist Richard Rothstein, whose book The Way We Were? cites a series of similar attacks on American education, moving backward one decade at a time.3 Each generation invokes the good old days, during which, we discover, people had been doing exactly the same thing.

Hello?” Static, and then she could hear two voices arguing in the background. “Why in the world are we pushing the button?” She recognized Ever’s voice. “Because that’s the way they do it,” Jared’s voice argued back. “Well, we are not like them. You’re a prince. Just wave your hand and—

So I heard on the news that the Tard died and your house burnt down. I bet secretly you're relieved you don't have to live with him anymore in that dump." The whole commotion in the hallway immediately stopped, as if her words had been spoken over the intercom. It became so quiet that you could hear Mina's and Nan's sharp intakes of breath. Mina wasn't prone to violence and was about to think of something mean to say back to Savannah, but she didn't have the chance to, because Nan Taylor, perky, happy-go-lucky Nan Taylor, pulled back her fist and punched Savannah in the face. Savannah wasn't prepared, and fell to the floor. Nan stood over her shocked face and yelled, "No way was he handicapped, or different. He was the most special, coolest and smartest kid ever. And the world is a much sadder place because he's not here. And don't you ever, EVER, insult him again!" Nan shook with anger. The hall was full of students and teachers, and one by one they started to clap.

To Aiden & Ashley   So that you will grow up loving fairy tales like I did.

There’s nothing or no one here that could possibly hurt the Fates—right, Mina?

His hair was a lighter shade of brown than Jared’s, and his eyes were a deep blue, while Jared’s were a haunting gray. They both had similar angular jaws and drop-dead-gorgeous looks.

you really not know the reason why I came? I came back for you. I’ll always come back for you.” He pressed his forehead to hers. His nearness tickled her senses, and she couldn’t help but hold him even tighter. Jared gently tipped Mina’s chin up, and he leaned down to press his lips to hers in a soft kiss that quickly turned into desire. So many pent-up emotions and unsaid words spilled out between them in a kiss to top all kisses. Never before had she lost all sense of time and place as her lips sought after those of her protector, her friend and her Fae prince. All thoughts of Brody disappeared as her world encompassed Jared and Jared only. He pulled away, and he was visibly shaking from the intensity of their kiss. “Mina, I want you to know that I’ve felt alone for a very long time. I was incomplete, and nothing could fill that void. Until I met you. I’ve known for a long time, but I wasn’t sure how you felt about me. At times I thought you hated me, but I wanted to tell you that I, uh, Mina, I lo—aaaarrgh!

Lunch period was painful and awkward. Whenever Brody tried to ask Mina a question, Jared would interject and turn the subject back to Nan. Ever, frustrated by Jared’s lack of attention, turned to tossing food in the air and catching it in her mouth. It wasn’t until Ever almost choked on one of the French fries that the boys calmed down their feud and turned to helping the girl not choke to death.

The Fae book was definitely filled with the same stories as hers, but this one was filled with picture after picture of Jared. She couldn’t help but flip backward a few pages and see magical images come to life: of Jared defending her in an alley. Sitting in art class with Mina, spinning on the pottery wheel. There was another one of Jared by the lake, teaching her to fight. Jared and her in the storage room, laughing, before their tickling fight. She flipped forward and saw the last page filled with a motion-captured image of Jared and her sharing a kiss.

When I look in the mirror I see my face, my blue eyes, black hair, and strong jaw. But I don’t recognize the figures staring back at me. Something inside me has changed, grown darker, colder. My wolf rages inside, constantly fighting me for control. I know I mustn’t give in. For if I do, chaos will come crashing down around us, along with lifeless bodies.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Terry Goodmother lived on the top floor of a large, expensive apartment building.

It was like her frozen heart had started to thaw just a little at his smile. “Ah,

Like the fabled Charge of the Light Brigade, Farnsworth’s Charge was brave, memorable, and fruitless.

Very good, brother. I am impressed. You have gotten stronger, but you are not strong enough.” Brother? The word made Mina’s knees weak with relief. It couldn’t be—could it? He said he would never come. That he couldn’t come. She couldn’t help herself; she yelled out his name. “Jared!” The giant’s head turned to her, his eyes looking very human and every ounce Jared. He had one hand over a deep wound in his side, and he was slowly falling to his knees. She heard him call out her name—“Meehna!”—and then he fell forward onto the marble. But when he finally crashed into the ground, he was completely human and injured.

If you go there, Mina, you’ll be going there alone.” Jared glared at her.

Thank you… Nix, is it? What an odd name.

You killed the one person I loved.

I don’t fear death—death should fear me.

I think you are my only friend now.

School was a torture.

I’m dying, Mina.

I would rather die now helping you in whatever quest you’re on than to live as a monster without her.

She had just started to love again, just to lose it.

The lights went out. As the theater plunged into total darkness, the screaming began.

She looked up in alarm and saw Brody lean forward and kiss Nan on the lips. It was aggressive and very unlike him, and she knew then what Teague was doing.

Sometimes love is worth fighting for. And if you don’t fight for it, then it slips through your fingers.” She pulled her hand away.

To the old biddies. It’s time to stir up the henhouse.

Never before has the Grimoire shown its human side. There’s something special about you, Mina. Something that I saw years ago, something that our young prince saw. Trust in that.

You do anything, ignite a single spark, and I’m having Kentucky Fried Chicken for dinner.

Stupid hamster.” He turned on his heels and yelled back into the darkness, “I hope you get rabies, you brat.

you picked the wrong girl to mess with.

I would never abandon you. I will always be there to catch you when you fall.

Teague

Even a pawn can take down the queen.

A thousand sweet words can never disguise the rattle of a viper about to strike. I will not drop my guard ever again. And I will end this curse… by doing whatever… or killing whoever… I have to.

She never used to compare her appearance to Nan, but now that Brody was so near both of them again, she couldn’t help but let the comparisons ride out. She was definitely the ugly duckling. “Mina,” Nan interrupted her thoughts, “you look so cute today. Tell me, is it because of a guy? It is, isn’t it? Who is it?” Brody’s head snapped in Mina’s direction; he was obviously interested in hearing her answer, but he carefully pretended indifference as he took a swig of cola. “NO, there’s no guy. There’s no one.” “Well, there should be a guy. There should be a hundred boys lined up to date my best friend. Right, Brody?” Nan cornered him with a look. Brody almost choked on his drink, and after wiping his mouth on his jacket, he gave Nan a sheepish look. “Um, yeah, hundreds.” He swallowed and stared directly into Mina’s eyes. “Well, you should set her up on a date with one of your friends, then,” Nan said. “NO!” Mina and Brody cried out in unison, while Ever pumped her fist and yelled, “YES!” Nan started laughing, and picked up her water bottle and twisted the lid. “It’s official, Bro. Tonight…double date.” “Make that a triple,” Ever interrupted, looking at Jared across the table hopefully. Jared’s head snapped up, and he stared at the four of them in horror…once he realized what they were saying. Brody groaned. Mina turned beet red, Nan laughed, and Ever glared at Jared, who finally quit playing with his food and buried his head in his hands.

I saw every broken piece that might never glue back into the right order, but they would glue into something. They would find their place, they would form into something valuable, and eventually, they’d be stronger than anything before.

I’m missing the need-a-boyfriend gene, but the truth is I just haven’t met anyone who…well, whom I’m attracted to, even though part of me longs for the fabled trembling knees, heart-in-my-mouth, butterflies-in-my-belly moments. Sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with me. Perhaps I’ve spent too long in the company of my literary romantic heroes, and consequently my ideals and expectations are far too high. But in reality, nobody’s ever made me feel like that.

Wooden 1: "How many kinds of guns have you meatheads created?" Gun Shop Clerk: "Thousands. Hundreds of thousands?" Wooden 2: "That's extravagance beyond credulity." Wooden 3: "Are there really that many different kinds of people you need to kill?

Every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of the kid back in the valley. The kid who never got to grow into a normal man. I think... I think it’s time I became that man. I’m ready to become that man.” Tipping my chin up with his finger, he murmured, “I want to become that man for you, Gem.

When Pawnbroker Fang approached Ma the Grub with the idea of joining forces he opened negotiations by presenting Ma’s wife with the picture of a small fish drawn on a piece of cheap paper. Ma’s wife accepted the magnificent gift, and in return she extended her right hand and made a circle with the thumb and forefinger. At that point, the door crashed open and Ma the Grub charged inside and screamed: “Woman, would you ruin me? Half of a pie would have been enough!” That may not be literally true, but the abbot of our monastery always said that fable has strong shoulders that carry far more truth than fact can.

So if pundits were throwing up their hands even during the Eisenhower era about schools on the decline and students who could barely read and write, the obvious question is this: When exactly was that golden period distinguished by high standards? The answer, of course, is that it never existed. “The story of declining school quality across the twentieth century is, for the most part, a fable,” says social scientist Richard Rothstein, whose book The Way We Were? cites a series of similar attacks on American education, moving backward one decade at a time.3 Each generation invokes the good old days, during which, we discover, people had been doing exactly the same thing.

The pleasures of the fancy are more conducive to health, than those of the understanding, which are worked out by dint of thinking, and attended with too violent a labour of the brain. Delightful scenes, whether in nature, painting, or poetry, have a kindly influence on the body, as well as the mind, and not only serve to clear and brighten the imagination, but are able to disperse grief and melancholy, and to set the animal spirits in pleasing and agreeable motions. For this reason Sir Francis Bacon, in his Essay upon Health, has not thought it improper to prescribe to his reader a poem or a prospect, where he particularly dissuades him from knotty and subtle disquisitions, and advises him to pursue studies that fill the mind with splendid and illustrious objects, as histories, fables, and contemplations of nature.

At times I thought you hated me, but I wanted to tell you that I, uh, Mina, I lo—aaaarrgh!” Jared’s body tensed up in pain, and he fell away from her. Mina tried to grab him and pull him close, but something stabbed her in the side. She looked down and saw her torso covered with blood, but it wasn’t hers. She looked up to see a large knife sticking out of Jared’s stomach. Teague stood behind him with his hand wrapped around Jared’s throat, his eyes glittering evilly.

He pressed his forehead to hers. His nearness tickled her senses, and she couldn’t help but hold him even tighter. Jared gently tipped Mina’s chin up, and he leaned down to press his lips to hers in a soft kiss that quickly turned into desire. So many pent-up emotions and unsaid words spilled out between them in a kiss to top all kisses. Never before had she lost all sense of time and place as her lips sought after those of her protector, her friend and her Fae prince. All thoughts of Brody disappeared as her world encompassed Jared and Jared only.

There’s a story about a young palace clerk who’d had word that his childhood sweetheart back in his home village was being courted by the local tanner. He couldn’t afford the bribe for a warrant of absence, so he forged despatches from military intelligence, which misled the joint chiefs of the defence staff into thinking the Hasrut were planning to invade. The joint chiefs went to the emperor and persuaded him to levy the biggest conscript army the empire had ever seen, in order to deal with the Hasrut once and for all. The young clerk wangled a posting as a deputy assistant quartermaster with the expeditionary force, which he accompanied just as far as the turning off the Great Military Road that led to his village, two miles away. The army, meanwhile, continued into Hasrut territory, was ambushed at the Two Horns and wiped out to the last man, leading in turn to the fall of the Nineteenth Dynasty and thirty years of civil war. Moral: even the humblest of us can make a difference, and it’s love that makes the world go round, or at least wobble horribly.

Eres la mujer a la que no puedo ignorar

Journal of Interdisciplinary Science Topics How many lies could Pinocchio tell before it became lethal? Steffan Llewellyn The Centre for Interdisciplinary science, University of Leicester 25/03/2014 Abstract: This paper investigates how many lies Pinocchio could continuously tell before it would become fatal, treating the head and neck forces as a basic lever system with the exponential growth of the nose. This paper concludes that Pinocchio could only sustain 13 lies in a row before the maximum upward force his neck could exert cannot sustain his head and nose. The head’s overall centre of mass shifts over 85 metres after 13 lies, and the overall length of the nose is 208 metres. Pinocchio’s Nose Pinocchio is the fable of a wooden puppet, carved by Geppetto, who dreams of becoming a real boy [1]. Pinocchio was portrayed as a character prone to lying, which is manifested physically through the ability to grow his nose when he tells a lie. One issue of growing his nose would be the shift of Pinocchio’s centre of mass within his head, causing strain on his neck, which helps stabilise his head’s position with upwards force. If this continued, then his neck could not support his head, potentially decapitating the puppet. Outlined here is the minimum lie count Pinocchio could continuously expel. Where Pinocchio manages to form new is not addressed in this paper. Maximum Force Pinocchio’s Neck Can Exert The assumption is simplified by allowing the force exerted upwards through the neck to be positioned at the back of the head. The head is treated as a sphere, and the nose as a cylinder, as shown in The type of wood Pinocchio is carved from is disputed, but for this paper, it is concluded that Pinocchio is made from Oak, with a density of . Pinocchio’s neck will brake if its compression strength threshold is overcome by the weight of his head. The compression strength of oak is 1150Psi [2], and the circumference of the average human neck is 0.4m [3]. The maximum force Pinocchio’s neck can sustain is: ( ) ( ) Centre of Mass, and Force Exerted Figure 1. Figure 1: Illustrates the lever system of Pinocchio’s head and neck, with opposite forcesNeck muscles are required to balance the weight exerted by the skull.Usually, the weight of the nose can be considered negligible. In Pinocchio’s case, as the nose increases, it will have a significant impact on the centre of mass and weight of his head. The mass of the head is unchanged: ( )

The 7 Timeless Virtues of Enlightened Living Virtue     Symbol       1 Master Your Mind       The Magnificent Garden       2 Follow Your Purpose       The Towering Lighthouse       3 Practice Kaizen       The Sumo Wrestler       4 Live with Discipline       The Pink Wire Cable       5 Respect Your Time       The Gold Stopwatch       6 Selflessly Serve Others       The Fragrant Roses       7 Embrace the Present       The Path of Diamonds

Generations from now, Emily wondered, should their tiny group of humanity manage to survive and thrive and begin to explore this world again, how would this place look to them? This strange new world would be their new normal; her world, the old world that had existed for thousands of years only to disappear in the space of eight hours, would be the alien one to them. A place of legends. It would be a distant racial memory of greatness, passed down from generation to generation, pieces of reality disappearing with every new voice that carried the story onward. She, and the other survivors, would become fable. “Look,

Every intellectual project of a political kind should follow a number of basic principles1) Be deeply suspicious of anything that masks itself in universal regalia. Bring into question that which is not being questioned in the normal state of affairs. (2) Move beyond any self-righteous and self-absolving assessments of the operations of power. Look to deal with power at the level of its effects and the ways in which it positively manipulates subjects to wilfully abandon their own political freedoms. (3) Foreground the affirmative qualities of subjectivities. Not only is this integral in the fight against fascism in all its forms. It opens a challenge to the narcissism of those who would have us surrender to the mercies of the world. (4) Speak with confidence about the ability to transform the world, not for the better, but for the sake of it. Without an open commitment to the people to come, the struggle is already lost. (5) Use provocation as a political tool. Not to evidence extremist views. But to illustrate how normalizing power truly fears anything that appears remotely exceptional. The poetic most certainly included. (6) Trust in the irreducible qualities of human existence. The feelings we have, the atmospheres we breathe, the aesthetics we enfold, the fables we scribe, the playful personas we construct, they are all integral to the formation of a new image of thought. (7) Have faith in people. Just as they will resist what they find oppressive and intolerable, so they will also find their own dignified solutions to problems in spite of our best efforts. (8) Do not shy away from conflict. Without conflict there is no resistance to power. And without resistance to power there is no creation of alternative existences. (9) Reveal fully your political orientations. Do not abstract them from the work. Such a deception is of the order for those embarrassed by the mediocrity of their power. (10) Speak with the courage to truth that narrates a tale to affect a number of meaningful registers. No book should be read if it doesn't intellectually challenge and emotionally move us.

Finally: not human at all. Once the Niess were gone, of course, it became clear that the fabled Niess sessapinae did not exist. Sylanagistine scholars and biomagestres had plenty of

He wasn’t just beginning to live again, he was choosing to. He was choosing me over death. Choosing hope over loss. Choosing happiness over misery.

Kindness and kisses might’ve destroyed me, but she... she might finally set me free.

You’re mine.”He kissed my clit before biting me with barely controlled violence. “All mine. Forever.” “Yes.”I writhed as his fingers continued to drive me mad. “Say you love me.” “I love you.” “Say you love my tongue deep in your pussy.” “I love your tongue.” “My tongue where, Gem?”He licked me hard and long, pushing me closer to the edge. “Where is my tongue? Where does it belong?” I blushed but moaned, “In my pussy. Your tongue belongs inside me.” “Damn fucking right it does.

I had it wrong. I didn’t need to vandalize and monopolize her to be vindicated. I just needed to let her in. To love. To be brave enough to give up my life for someone worthier than me.

Come, Gem. Come like you love me, like you hate me. Come like you’re the only master I’ll ever obey from now on.”His voice slipped into my ear, raw and thick. “Come knowing you’re the only one for me.

It’s okay,” I whispered. “I know what it’s like to be betrayed. To be lied to. Beaten . Abandoned.

To love is the simplest choice. But healing is the hardest struggle of all.

And I said three terrifying words. Words that I would die by, live by, do my best to survive by. Because she’d chosen me. Fate had chosen her for me. And I would finally start trying to deserve her instead of letting my past destroy her. “I love you.

I’ve never had anything of my own before. Never had a favorite toy or a loyal pet, so you can’t blame me if I’m a tad controlling, now that I have you.”His fingers feathered over my entrance, making me suck in a breath. “Now that you’re mine, Gem? Now that I know what it’s like to have something to cherish, protect, and love... then yes, I’m going to be a controlling, dominating asshole because it’s the only way I know how to keep you safe.

Timothy 4:3-4—For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but after their own lusts they will heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears; And they shall turn away their ears from the truth, and shall be turned unto fables.

Either death or escape would eventually save us, and I built my entire existence on those two possibilities. Even while living alone, I still trusted in those two inevitabilities. Until she arrived. A trespassing girl with a heart of fucking gold who showed me a third possibility.

You shouldn’t have to carry that sort of weight, knowing the man who’s in love with you isn’t stable enough to survive without you. One day, I will be. One day, I will be strong enough to be everything you need, everything you deserve, but in the meantime, what I can give you is a promise. “A promise that I’m done with all of this. I’m done being sick in my soul and not just my head. I’m done letting a concussion amplify all the unresolved shit inside me. But most of all, I’m done not fighting for what I deserve. And fuck it, I deserve you, Gem. I deserve you because I will fight every monster who ever dares to come near you. I will protect you, provide for you. Not a day will go by that I don’t do whatever I can to keep you safe and happy.

Because our connection isn’t skin deep. I’m a firm believer that when you meet the one, it’s not the cells that make up our body that sit up and notice, but our soul. I felt you inside me—not just inside my heart but bigger than that. You were familiar and new, scary and safe, mine the moment I met you.

It’s a good thing that I’m yours and a great thing that you’re not going to share me.” “It is?”I cried out as he ground into me, filling me deep, bruising inside and out. “Definitely.”He picked a threatening pace, driving into me over and over again. “Because if I’m yours and you’re mine, then it means you just handed over your freedom, Gemma Ashford.” I cried out as he fucked me harder. “You’re going to marry me. You’re going to worship me every fucking day for the rest of your life. You’ll be my friend, my lover... my wife. You’ll put up with my flaws and accept that I’ll never be perfect. You’ll love me until your dying day.

But if you stop and think about it, that’s just eight days a year. Out of how many total work days? Two hundred and forty? That’s a whopping 3 percent.

Meeting #3:The Monthly Strategic This is the most interesting and in many ways the most important type of meeting any team has. It is also the most fun. It is where executives wrestle with, analyze, debate, and decide upon critical issues (but only a few) that will affect the business in fundamental ways. Monthly Strategic meetings allow executives to dive into a given topic or two without the distractions of deadlines and tactical concerns.

There will be a Falling Away from Scriptural Truth Before the Return of Jesus Christ: The harlot church Mystery Babylon promotes blasphemy and spiritual fornication. They follow the Mystery Religions of Babylon. This is Eastern mysticism and Western esotericism. The Bible says, “Now concerning the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ and our being gathered together to Him, we ask you, brothers, not to be easily disconcerted or alarmed by any spirit or message or a letter seeming to be from us, alleging that the Day of the Lord has already come. Let no one deceive you in any way, for it will not come until the rebellion occurs and the man of lawlessness—the son of destruction—is revealed. He will oppose and exalt himself above every so-called god or object of worship. So, he will seat himself in the temple of God, proclaiming himself to be God (2 Thessalonians 2:1-3, Berean Study Bible). Colossians 2:8 says, “Beware lest anyone cheat you through philosophy and empty deceit, according to the tradition of men, according to the basic principles of the world, and not according to Christ (NKJV). “For the time is coming when people will not endure sound doctrine; but after their own lusts, shall they heap unto themselves teachers; having itching ears and they shall turn away their ears from the truth and be turned aside unto fables” (2 Timothy 4:3-4, KJV). * These Scriptures warn us that a counterfeit Church will promote a false theology, not the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Tanjecterly may be no more than one of Twitten’s idle fables; his caprices and pranks are well documented elsewhere. On the other hand, the almanac is said to be a work of great complexity and inner coherence, which would seem to lend the volume credence.

No, she should not be picturing him without a shirt.

It may have been one of the hardest parts of her job but being able to tell people difficult things in a way they could hear them was one of her gifts.

History is my strong suit." She had long ago taken it upon herself to read every book in the palace library, after discovering just how flimsy her education was. While the sons and daughters of palace courtiers came home from school each day brimming with new knowledge, Jasmine was kept at home with a tutor--- and her private lessons in etiquette and art weren't exactly the foundation that kings were built on. Sometimes Jasmine had the sneaking suspicion that Taminah never expected her to end up on the throne at all, that she was preparing the princess to be a royal wife instead. After all, she had mentioned more than once the possibility of Jasmine having a son in the future who could rule in her stead. But one other thing the older woman had done right was introduce Jasmine to books, especially Agrabah's myths and fables, in which terrors jumped from every page. Stories with heroes and demons so vivid, they could have been real. After she had read all the stories she could get her hands on, Jasmine moved on to history texts and illustrated maps. Hers might have been an incomplete education, but those books allowed a sheltered princess to see some of the world, both real and imagined. And they gave her a window into the past.

He’s legit a caveman!

1 an oval or round object laid by a female bird, reptile, fish, or invertebrate, usually containing a developing embryo. The eggs of birds are enclosed in a chalky shell, while those of reptiles are in a leathery membrane. an infertile bird's egg, especially one from a chicken, used for food. a thing resembling a bird's egg in shape: chocolate eggs. 2 [BIOLOGY] the female reproductive cell in animals and plants; an ovum. 3 [ARCHITECTURE] a decorative oval moulding, used alternately with triangular shapes: [as modifier] egg and dart moulding. 4 [with adj.] INFORMAL, DATED a person of a specified kind: the biography portrays him as a thoroughly bad egg. don't put all your eggs in one basket PROVERB don't risk everything on the success of one venture. go suck an egg [as imperative] NORTH AMERICAN INFORMAL used as an expression of anger or scorn. kill the goose that lays the golden eggs destroy a reliable and valuable source of income. [ with allusion to one of Aesop's fables.] lay an egg NORTH AMERICAN INFORMAL be completely unsuccessful. with egg on one's face INFORMAL appearing foolish or ridiculous: don't underestimate this team, or you'll be left with egg on your face. eggless adj. Middle English (superseding earlier ey, from Old English g): from Old Norse. egg2

Help Us Help Them! All proceeds from The Great Tree - A Christmas Fable go to support The Last Road Dog Animal Sanctuary a 501 (c)(3) IRS approved public charity for unadoptable, unwanted ands older dogs to live out their lives in paradise.

Around a hundred Texans faced 3,000 Mexican Government troops. According to the account that long filled patriotic Americans’ schoolbooks, Crockett died a hero defiantly swinging the butt of his rifle, Old Betsy, at oncoming Mexicans after running out of ammunition. A Different Story Surfaces In 1975, a previously untranslated diary written by José Enrique de la Peña, senior Mexican officer at the battle, revealed that Crockett and six other survivors had actually surrendered. According to this account, they were executed shortly afterwards. The revelation did not come without controversy. Historians still dispute whether the diary is genuine, pointing to the unclear circumstances of its emergence in the mid-1950s in Mexico, just at the height of Disney’s fictionalisation of Crockett’s story across the border in the United States. Advocates cite a supporting pamphlet that was lodged in the archives of Yale University long before the Crockett fad began, which they suggest point to the diary being genuine. A crude Mexican attempt at Party pooping? Or bursting the bubble of a fabled tale? The truth may never be known, but the episode once more demonstrates Oscar Wilde’s observation of the truth being rarely pure and never simple.

1. What makes your family unique?