Fan Following Quotes

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I'm seven hundred years old, Alexander. I know when something isn't going to work. You won't even admit I exist to your parents." Alec stared at him. "I thought you were three hundred! You're seven huundred years old?" "Well," Magnus amended, "eight hundred. But I dont look it. Anyway, you're missing the point. The point is-" But Alec never found out what the point was because at that moment a dozen more Iblis demons flooded into the square. He felt his jaw drop. "Damn it." Magnus followed his gaze. the demons were already fanning out into a half circle around them, their yellow eyes glowing. "Way to change the subject, Lightwood.
Cassandra Clare (City of Glass (The Mortal Instruments, #3))
Whispers followed me down the hall. Ignoring them was harder than I´d imagined. Every Cell in my body demanded that I confront them. And do what? Jump on them like a crazy spider monkey and take them all out? Yah, not going to win me any fans.
Jennifer L. Armentrout (Deity (Covenant, #3))
There is no life without death.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Remember that your fans are your lifeblood. See that you know who they are, and give them a reason to follow you. Be sure to thank them, often, for caring enough to support you. They’re responsible for your success just as much as you are.
Simon Zingerman (We All Need Heroes: Stories of the Brave and Foolish)
Following Jesus will cost you something. Following Jesus always costs something.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Love remembers the places where it touched down. You can follow it back to them.
Kate Scelsa (Fans of the Impossible Life)
The biggest threat to the church today is fans who call themselves Christians but aren’t actually interested in following Christ. They want to be close enough to Jesus to get all the benefits, but not so close that it requires anything from them.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Fans mistake knowledge OF Jesus for intimacy WITH Jesus.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
~~~ Wherever his team went, Dex seemed to pick up a fan following. Something about the guy fascinated Humans and Therians alike. Sloane was still trying to work out what it was. Especially since the guy was...well, kinda weird. Then again, crazy had a way of attracting crazy.
Charlie Cochet (Blood & Thunder (THIRDS, #2))
When shit hits the fan, and everyone around you is losing their mind, find the silent guy. The one that looks calm enough to take a nap. He’s about to fuck something up, and you’ll want to follow him. -Rule of Thumb Griffin
Lani Lynn Vale (Whiskey Neat (Uncertain Saints MC, #1))
Jesus doesn’t expect followers to be perfect, but he does call them to be authentic.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Some people say, “Once you learn to be happy, you won't tolerate being around people who make you feel anything less.” My Christ says, “Your job is to get off your self righteous butt and start reaching out to the difficult people because my ministry wasn’t about a bunch of nice people getting together once a week to sing hymns and get a feel good message, that you may or may not apply, depending on the depth of your anger for someone. It is about caring for and helping the broken hearted, the difficult, the hurt, the misunderstood, the repulsive, the wicked and the liars. It is about turning the other cheek when someone hurts you. It is about loving one another and making amends. It is allowing people as many chances as they need because God gives them endless chances. When you do this then you will know me and you will know true happiness and peace. Until then, you will never know who I really am. You will always be just a fan or a Sunday only warrior. You will continue to represent who you are to the world, but not me. I am the God that rescues.
Shannon L. Alder
To be a follower of Christ and not just a fan means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.
Shannon L. Alder
It is, in the imagination of combat's fans, the divinely listless loveplay that follows the orgasm of victory. It is called 'mopping up.
Kurt Vonnegut Jr. (Slaughterhouse-Five)
Courage is God's way of testing the virtues you profess to have and your level of commitment to everything you think you are.
Shannon L. Alder
Fans don’t mind him doing a little touch-up work, but Jesus wants complete renovation. Fans come to Jesus thinking tune-up, but Jesus is thinking overhaul. Fans think a little makeup is fine, but Jesus is thinking makeover. Fans think a little decorating is required, but Jesus wants a complete remodel. Fans want Jesus to inspire them, but Jesus wants to interfere with their lives.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Cinderella The prince leans to the girl in scarlet heels, Her green eyes slant, hair flaring in a fan Of silver as the rondo slows; now reels Begin on tilted violins to span The whole revolving tall glass palace hall Where guests slide gliding into light like wine; Rose candles flicker on the lilac wall Reflecting in a million flagons' shine, And glided couples all in whirling trance Follow holiday revel begun long since, Until near twelve the strange girl all at once Guilt-stricken halts, pales, clings to the prince As amid the hectic music and cocktail talk She hears the caustic ticking of the clock.
Sylvia Plath
Having destroyed countless sects, nobody would listen to his explanation, especially when Jin GuangYao would be there fanning the flames. Lan WangJi, though, was different from him. He wouldn’t even have to explain, and people would explain for him, such as how HanGuang-Jun had been deceived by the YiLing Patriarch. Wei WuXian, 'HanGuang-Jun, you don’t have to follow me!' Lan WangJi looked straight in front of him, saying nothing in reply.
墨香铜臭 (魔道祖师 [Mo Dao Zu Shi])
I had never before been a special fan of that great comedian Phyllis Diller, but she utterly won my heart this week by sending me an envelope that, when opened, contained a torn-off square of brown-bag paper of the kind suitable for latrine duty in an ill-run correctional facility. Duly unfurled, it carried a handwritten salutation reading as follows: Money's scarce Times are hard Here's your f****** Xmas card I could not possibly improve on the sentiment, but I don't think it ought to depend on the current austerities. Isn't Christmas a moral and aesthetic nightmare whether or not the days are prosperous?
Christopher Hitchens
So in case someone left it out or forgot to mention it when they explained what it meant to be a Christian, let me be clear: There is no forgiveness without repentance. There is no salvation without surrender. There is no life without death. There is no believing without committing.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
I am Cinna's bird, ignited, flying frantically to escape something inescapable. The feathers of flame that grow from my body. Beating my wings only fans the blaze. I consume myself, but to no end. Finally, my wings begin to falter, I lose height, and gravity pulls me into a foamy sea the color of Finnick's eyes. I float on my back, which continues to burn beneath the water, but the agony quiets to pain. When I am adrift and unable to navigate, that's when they come. The dead. The ones I loved fly as birds in the open sky above me. Soaring, weaving, calling to me to join them. I want so badly to follow them, but the seawater saturates my wings, making it impossible to lift them. The ones I hated have taken to the water, horrible scaled things that tear my salty flesh with needle teeth. Biting again and again. Dragging me beneath the surface. The small white bird tinged in pink dives down, buries her claws in my chest, and tries to keep me afloat. "No, Katniss! No! You can't go!" But the ones I hated are winning, and if she clings to me, she'll be lost as well. "Prim, let go!" And finally she does.
Suzanne Collins
All the time, I looked out our lattice window. I watched the birds fly by. I followed the clouds on their travels. I studied the moon as it grew larger, then shrank. So much happened outside my window that I almost forgot what was happening inside that room.
Lisa See (Snow Flower and the Secret Fan)
The truth is that most of us go to great lengths to disguise our weaknesses.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
The biggest threat to the church today is fans who call themselves Christians but aren’t actually interested in following Christ.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
You'd think a sociopath assassin wouldn't have a fan following but he does.
Laurell K. Hamilton
In teaching people what it means to be a Christian, we spend much of our time and effort bringing them to a point of belief without clearly calling them to follow. We have taken “believe” and we have written that in capital letters with bold print: BELIEVE. But everything that has to do with following has been put in small print: follow.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Jesus doesn't hold back with Nicodemus. Following Jesus would require a commitment that would cost Nicodemus a great deal....In fact, it's true throughout all of Scripture....Following Jesus isn't something you can do at night where no one notices. It's a twenty-four-hour-a-day commitment that will interfere with your life. That's not the small-print--that's a guarantee.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Jack followed me around the deck, alternating between Abba hits (Vikings are huge Abba fans) and telling me stories about the old days when he and Frey would roam the Nine Worlds, spreading sunshine and happiness and occasionally killing people.
Rick Riordan (The Ship of the Dead (Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard, #3))
What you win them with is what you win them to.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Bill Bright, founder of Campus Crusade for Christ and author of the Four Spiritual Laws chose three words for his tombstone: "slave for Jesus".
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
It's much easier to talk about following Jesus when you are making general statements rather than specific commitments.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
the grace of God doesn’t simply invite us to follow … it teaches us to follow.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Generally the first week in September brings the hottest weather of the year, and this was no exception. Overhead the fans turned slow, their paddle blades stirring the air up close to the ceiling but nowheres else...
Shelby Foote (Follow Me Down)
He picked out a neon-green Sour Patch Kid and held it in front of her face. "Do you accept this little sugar man and his mission to bring you peace and fulfillment with the risk of a major sugar crash to follow?" "I do," she said. "I accept the terms of the tiny sugar man, and the wrath of my impossible mother.
Kate Scelsa (Fans of the Impossible Life)
He speaks in that strange sports talk, telling me about the start of the new season and asks if I follow baseball. No. I really don’t. He assures me if I stay in town long enough I will become a baseball fan. It’s a requirement of living in St. Louis. Everyone is a Cardinal’s fan. “Loyal,” he tells me. St. Louis is a loyal town.
Gwenn Wright (Filter (The Von Strassenberg Saga, #1))
Close your eyes, and with Jesus, journey back through your day. As you do, confess sin as you see it...
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
You have been here before. The highway winding north through dark New England forests. You can come back. Love remembers the places where it touched down. You can follow it back to them.
Kate Scelsa (Fans of the Impossible Life)
But I know, with all the certainty of my being, that Jesus has no interest in my doing this. To just say, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, I'm your biggest fan," causes him to stare at his watch, tap his feet, and order a double Glenlivet on the rocks with a twist. Fandom is of no interest to Jesus. What matters to him is the authentic following of a disciple. We all settle for saying, "Jesus," but Jesus wants us to be in the world who he is.
Gregory Boyle (Barking to the Choir: The Power of Radical Kinship)
The Germans and the dog were engaged in a military operation which had an amusingly self explanatory name, a human enterprise which is seldom described in detail, whose name alone, when reported as new or history, gives many war enthusiasts a sort of post-coital satisfaction. It is, in the imagination of combat's fans, the divinely listless loveplay that follows the orgasm of victory. It is called "mopping up.
Kurt Vonnegut Jr. (Slaughterhouse-Five)
People become followers of the God because of his fear, but they become a fan of a hero because of his work.
Amit Kalantri
Set your life on fire. Seek those who fan your flames.” –Rumi
Carrie Jolie Dale (The 2 Choices: A Soulful & Spiritual Guide to Living Your Truth, Following Your Path & Feeling Good)
Try taking five minutes for meditation. Close your eyes and in your mind picture Jesus. Watch Him turn, look at you and hear Him...
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
When we learn to truly follow Jesus, we find that obedience to God comes from the inside out. Submission to what God wants for our lives flows naturally out of that relationship.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Well, I’ve got three things working against me before I even walk into the room: 1. I’m the last speaker of the day. The fans are tired and a little burned out. 2. I’m following Michael Dorn and Marina Sirtis. They do conventions together all the time, have a set routine that never fails, and the fans adore them. 3. I was Wesley Crusher.
Wil Wheaton (Just a Geek: Unflinchingly Honest Tales of the Search for Life, Love, and Fulfillment Beyond the Starship Enterprise)
As well, there’s the age-old syndrome common to fans of musicians with passionate and discerning cult followings. When the objects of adulation are crass enough to become popular, they quickly become a case of “used to be good.
Anthony Bourdain (Medium Raw: A Bloody Valentine to the World of Food and the People Who Cook)
There is a tendency to treat our relationship with Jesus like the diet we keep meaning to start. I’m going to start eating right, as soon as I finish off this chicken chimichanga. Tomorrow for sure. We treat our relationship with Jesus like the workout program we keep meaning to start. We go to bed telling ourselves, “Tomorrow I’m going to wake up early and exercise.” But the following night we find ourselves getting into bed promising, “Tomorrow for sure.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
When Jesus defines the relationship he wants with us he makes it clear that being a fan who believes without making any real commitment to follow isn’t an option.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
What galls me is that these sadists always have fans and followers-- and sincere ones at that. The typical example of this is Toscanini.
Dmitri Shostakovich (Testimony: The Memoirs)
The fans are always more radical than that which they are fans.
Criss Jami (Healology)
Instead of identifying myself as a follower because I know about Jesus, I understand that I am a follower because I know Jesus.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Many have made a decision to believe in Jesus without making a commitment to follow Jesus.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
fans are just friends and family I haven't met... or wrote about yet
Janna Hill
You have a rabid fan following that would buy your phone bill in hardcover and still manage to wank off to it.
Tiffany Reisz (The Siren (The Original Sinners, #1))
You have been here before. The highway winding north through dark New England forests. White dunes towering above the sides of the road, looking like the moon. You can come back. Even after you hurt each other too deeply to comprehend. Even after the impossible becomes just that. Too far out of reach even to dream. Love remembers the places where it touched down, left an invisible trail on your bodies. Follow it back. You can follow it back to them.
Kate Scelsa (Fans of the Impossible Life)
People respond to struggles in different ways. Some feel defeated and beaten down by the burdens they are called to bear. Many begin to blame others for their difficulties and defeats, and they fail to follow the counsel of the Lord. It is a natural tendency to seek the easy road on life’s journey and to become discouraged, filled with doubt, and even depressed when facing life’s struggles. Elder Neal A. Maxwell, then an Assistant to the Twelve, distinguished the difference in responses to difficulties: ‘The winds of tribulation, which blow out some men’s candles of commitment, only fan the fires of faith of [others]’.
L. Lionel Kendrick
Enlighten me, Lord Blackmoor, how should I be wooed, as you put it? I am intrigued by your obvious expertise." He was quick to respond, "You're too vibrant for them. Too strong. You have a sharp mind and an exciting personality and an unexpected sense of humor. If these men were half the man you deserve, they would have already recognized all those things and they would be romancing you accordingly. They would be working to intrigue and amuse and inspire you -- just as you do them. And they would know that only when they have won your mind will they even have a chance at winning your heart." The room felt much warmer all of a sudden, and Alex resisted the urge to fan herself, trying to ignore the rapid increase in her pulse as color flooded her cheeks. In the silence that followed his impassioned speech, Gavin stood and walked over to her. A cocky grin spread across his face. "That's how I write to the women I hope to interest, Alex.
Sarah MacLean (The Season)
What good is it, my brothers, if a man claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save him? Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, “Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? (James 2:14–16).
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
My concern is that many of our churches in America have gone from being sanctuaries to becoming stadiums. And every week all the fans come to the stadium where they cheer for Jesus but have no interest in truly following him. The biggest threat to the church today is fans who call themselves Christians but aren’t actually interested in following Christ.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Nor would I even begin to try to describe what she looks like as she’s telling the story, reliving it, she’s naked, hair spilling all down her back, sitting meditatively cross-legged amid the wrecked bedding and smoking ultralight Merits from which she keeps removing the filters because she claims they’re full of additives and unsafe—unsafe as she’s sitting there chain-smoking, which was so patently irrational that I couldn’t even bring—yes and some kind of blister on her Achilles tendon, from the sandals, leaning with her upper body to follow the oscillation of the fan so she’s moving in and out of a wash of moon from the window whose angle of incidence itself alters as the moon moves up and across the window—all I can tell you is she was lovely. The bottoms of her feet dirty, almost black. The moon so full it looks engorged.
David Foster Wallace (Brief Interviews with Hideous Men)
He leaned closer. “That’s what I’m trying to do. Your face is absolutely adorable when you blush.” My ears burned. Oh great, am I the color of a tomato now? “Yeah, well, I can make you blush,” I retorted. “By telling you how hot you are, and that when that little piece of black hair falls into your eyes, it’s so sexy it makes me forget my words, and...” I stopped, suddenly aware of how warm the mausoleum was. “Go on,” Caspian prodded, shaking his head so that his hair covered one green eye. I blushed again, and glanced around me, slowly backing away from him. I just needed some... space to clear my head. He followed me, stalking my every move. My blood felt like pure oxygen racing through my veins, fizzy and bubbling and making me want to float away. A hard wall at my back stopped me, but Caspian kept coming. I thought desperately of some way to change the subject. “I got you Moby-Dick,” I blurted out. He gave me a sly smile. “Mmmm, did you? How... interesting.” “And Treasure Island, and The Count of Monte Cristo.” I babbled on. “I thought you might like some boy books.” He stopped an inch away from me. I felt like I was his prisoner. “Let’s go back to the sexy and hot thing,” Caspian said. “Could we add a gorgeous or mysterious in there, too?” I gulped. “Like you don’t already know you’re all of those things. You probably had girls falling all over you before.” Caspian cocked his head to one side. “True. But I always thought it was because I was the quiet new guy. And besides, there’s only one person I was ever really interested in.” “Was?” I squeaked. Then I cleared my throat and tried again. “I mean—” “Am,” Caspian corrected himself. “Technically, I guess it’s both. I was interested the first day I saw her, and I still am interested in her.” His eyes glowed in the soft candlelight around us, and every last ounce of coherent thought left me. “It’s... um... really. It’s...” My head felt like it was thickening and my body was overheating, every word dragged from somewhere in the depths of my fuzzy brain. I waved a hand in front of my face to fan myself, and finally spit out what I was trying to say. “It’s hot in here. Don’t you think? It’s really warm.” “I only feel warmth when I’m standing next to you,” Caspian said. He stepped half an inch closer. “Like right now.
Jessica Verday (The Haunted (The Hollow, #2))
In fact, it's true throughout all of Scripture....Following Jesus isn't something you can do at night where no one notices. It's a twenty-four-hour-a-day commitment that will interfere with your life. That's not the small-print--that's a guarantee.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Then he lost all coherence and began a hysterical giggle, compounded with a slight twitch and very pronounced emission of saliva from his mouth. When he finally fell silent, the stillness was of that horrified kind that follows a fart in a Methodist church.
Frederick Exley (A Fan's Notes)
Nim unwrapped a loaf of fresh dilled rye bread and opened a crock of trout mousse. He slathered up a big slice and handed it to me. [...] We had thinly sliced veal smothered in kumquat sauce, fresh spinach with pine nuts, and fat red beefsteak tomatoes (impossibly rare at this time of year) broiled and stuffed with lemon apple sauce. The wide, fan-shaped mushrooms were sauteed lightly and served as a side dish. The main course was followed by a salad of red and green baby lettuce with dandelion greens and toasted hazelnuts.
Katherine Neville (The Eight (The Eight #1))
These are lines from my asteroid-impact novel, Regolith: Just because there are no laws against stupidity doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be punished. I haven’t faced rejection this brutal since I was single. He smelled trouble like a fart in the shower. If this was a kiss of gratitude, then she must have been very grateful. Not since Bush and Cheney have so few spent so much so fast for so long for so little. As a nympho for mind-fucks, Lisa took to politics like a pig to mud. She began paying men compliments as if she expected a receipt. Like the Aerosmith song, his get-up-and-go just got-up-and-went. “You couldn’t beat the crap out of a dirty diaper!” He embraced his only daughter as if she was deploying to Iraq. She was hotter than a Class 4 solar flare! If sex was a weapon, then Monique possessed WMD I haven’t felt this alive since I lost my virginity. He once read that 95% of women fake organism, and the rest are gay. Beauty may be in the eyes of the beholder, but ugly is universal. Why do wives fart, but not girlfriends? Adultery is sex that is wrong, but not necessarily bad. The dinosaurs stayed drugged out, drooling like Jonas Brothers fans. Silence filled the room like tear gas. The told him a fraction of the truth and hoped it would take just a fraction of the time. Happiness is the best cosmetic, He was a whale of a catch, and there were a lot of fish in the sea eager to nibble on his bait. Cheap hookers are less buck for the bang, Men cannot fall in love with women they don’t find attractive, and women cannot fall in love with men they do not respect. During sex, men want feedback while women expect mind-reading. Cooper looked like a cow about to be tipped over. His father warned him to never do anything he couldn’t justify on Oprah. The poor are not free -- they’re just not enslaved. Only those with money are free. Sperm wasn’t something he would choose on a menu, but it still tasted better than asparagus. The crater looked alive, like Godzilla was about to leap out and mess up Tokyo. Bush follows the Bible until it gets to Jesus. When Bush talks to God, it’s prayer; when God talks to Bush, it’s policy. Cheney called the new Miss America a traitor – apparently she wished for world peace. Cheney was so unpopular that Bush almost replaced him when running for re-election, changing his campaign slogan to, ‘Ain’t Got Dick.’ Bush fought a war on poverty – and the poor lost. Bush thinks we should strengthen the dollar by making it two-ply. Hurricane Katrina got rid of so many Democratic voters that Republicans have started calling her Kathleen Harris. America and Iraq fought a war and Iran won. Bush hasn’t choked this much since his last pretzel. Some wars are unpopular; the rest are victorious. So many conservatives hate the GOP that they are thinking of changing their name to the Dixie Chicks. If Saddam had any WMD, he would have used them when we invaded. If Bush had any brains, he would have used them when we invaded. It’s hard for Bush to win hearts and minds since he has neither. In Iraq, you are a coward if you leave and a fool if you stay. Bush believes it’s not a sin to kill Muslims since they are going to Hell anyway. And, with Bush’s help, soon. In Iraq, those who make their constitution subservient to their religion are called Muslims. In America they’re called Republicans. With great power comes great responsibility – unless you’re Republican.
Brent Reilly
You see football isn’t just about 90 minutes, it‘s about passion and, yes, if you like, about life. We men will do things under the umbrella of football fandom that we would never dream of doing in any other sphere of life, and within the pages that follow I will try and explain why.
Dougie Brimson (Geezer's Guide to Football: A Lifetime of Lads, Lager and Labels)
As we walked, Jane whistled songs I didn’t recognize. She was a good whistler and a fast walker, the squeak of her leg comforting, like the chug of a train or the whir of a fan, a piece of machinery doing its job. I liked following just behind her; she had such purpose to all of her moves.
Emily M. Danforth (The Miseducation of Cameron Post)
And I want you to know, before we go any further, that Jesus came to free you from religion. To those who have been hauling around a long list of rules. To those who are pretending to be more than they really are. To those who are weighed down with the fear and guilt of religion. To all the fans who are worn out on religion, Jesus invites you to follow him.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
effect of social sites on search engines
john Michal
With the fans, you smile and nod and take selfies and then hope they don’t follow you back to your house and murder you by shoving their underwear down your throat.
T.J. Klune (How to Be a Movie Star (How to Be, #2))
What is it that is competing for your allegiance to Christ? You may have both hands on the plow, but what is it you keep looking back at?
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
For the eyes of the LORD range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him. 2 Chronicles 16:9
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Can anything good come from Duke?
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
A belief, no matter how sincere, if not reflected in reality isn’t a belief; it’s a delusion.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Woe to you fans, if you would be as zealous about caring for the sick as you are about a ‘Christmas tree’ being called a ‘holiday tree,’ health insurance wouldn’t be a problem.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
As you move along a road, if you constantly look back to see if you have followers, your progress will slow down and can even stop! Concentrate on your road, not on your fans!
Mehmet Murat ildan
In the internet world, we know the f-factors: followers, fans, and friends.
Philip Kotler (Marketing 4.0: Moving from Traditional to Digital)
On the first day of fifth grade, Liz was sitting on the swing beside Liam's at recess. Falling and flying, her hair fanned out behind her and her eyes were closed, and that was what had caught his attention, her closed eyes. She looked a little bit silly and very much alive, and Liam couldn't stop watching. Liz, on her part, was aware that the boy beside her was watching, but she loved swinging too much to care what he thought. She loved the wind hitting her face and the brief moment of suspension at the top of the arc and the falling sensation that was magnified by the darkness of her eyelids. She imagined that she was a bird, an angel, a wayward star. At the height of the arc, she let go. And she flew. Liam watched with his mouth hanging wide open, expecting her to crumple on the asphalt and die tragically before his eyes. She didn't, and when she walked away, Liam's heart followed.
Amy Zhang
Aiden kissed me. His bottom lip went to my top one, his grip reassuring and unyielding as he dragged his mouth to kiss me fully. And I did what any sane person would have done: I let him, and I pressed my lips to his instinctively. Our mouths met in a peck that was followed by a big, guttural sigh fanning over my neck for a moment, his forehead pressing against mine.
Mariana Zapata (The Wall of Winnipeg and Me)
that goes well, we will follow with discussions of Raving Fans, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, Gung Ho!; and The Road Less Traveled. All of these books can help us understand
Harry Paul (Fish!: A remarkable way to boost morale and improve results)
Sometimes, I hear people talk about the different men and women of the Old Testament, and there is a hint of jealousy. They may say it, or just insinuate it, but here's what they communicate...'What would it have been like to hear God's voice and see him move in such powerful ways? I wish it was the same for us as it was for those whose stories we read about in scripture. When I get to heaven I can't wait to ask David, Elijah, or Moses what it was like.' But I think it will be just the opposite in heaven. Before we can ask David what it was like to slay a giant, to win the battles, he'll say, Tell me what it was like on earth to have the Holy Spirit inside of you, giving you strength when you are weak. We might say to Elijah, What was it like to call down fire from heaven before the prophets of Baal and to raise that boy from the dead? And I think Elijah might say, yeah, he actually ended up dying again. You tell me what it's like to have God living inside of you. What was it like to live life on earth with the Holy Spirit giving you joy when you're depressed or giving you the power to overcome that sin in your life? We might say to Moses, What was it like to follow the cloud by day and the fire by night? What was it like to meet with God on that Mountain? And Moses might say, I had to climb that mountain to meet with God. You tell me what it was like to have him dwell in you everyday. What was it like to have the Holy Spirit giving you directions when you didn't know what to do or where to go?
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Damn. Totally forgot. Guess I just got my man card yanked for not realizing football season had started. In my defense, I am a college fan (Go Longhorns!) and they don’t follow the same schedule as the NFL. I’m from the South, what can I say? It’s all about the college ball down here. I glanced up at the TV to see the Cowboys were indeed playing, and shook my head. Not a fan. Nope.
C.J. Pinard (Blood Bites: Three Vampire Tales)
Courtney replied that she herself is a big fan of the non sequitur which really only means that a conversation is free-flowing and intuitive, as opposed to following a predictable trajectory, so to speak
Bernardine Evaristo (Girl, Woman, Other)
Marketing and promoting doesn’t come down to the likes, the pins, the plus ones, the followers, the fans, the friends, the views, or the plays online. Marketing and promoting comes down to the conversions.
Loren Weisman (The Artist's Guide to Success in the Music Business: The “Who, What, When, Where, Why & How” of the Steps that Musicians & Bands Have to Take to Succeed in Music)
I would be with a bunch of Kennedy fans watching the debate and their comment would be, “He’s really slaughtering Nixon.” Then we would all go to another apartment, and the Nixon fans would say, “How do you like the shellacking he gave Kennedy?” And then I realized that each group loved their candidate so that a guy would have to be this blatant—he would have to look into the camera and say: “I am a thief, a crook, do you hear me, I am the worst choice you could ever make for the Presidency!” And even then his following would say, “Now there’s an honest man for you. It takes a big guy to admit that. There’s the kind of guy we need for President.”10
Carol Tavris (Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me): Why We Justify Foolish Beliefs, Bad Decisions, and Hurtful Acts)
This woman controls my heartbeats. Every love lyric I sing each night is made for her. Every melody chases her heartbeat, and every chorus begs for her love. It has been brought to my attention that a few people on my management team have chosen to approach the love of my life and tell her that she wasn't good for my image. Due to her looks and the past she had no say in creating, they said she wasn't good enough. It's true, we grew up in the same town, but that didn't mean our home lives were built on the same steady foundation. I was blessed enough to never know struggle. This girl had to fight tooth and nail for everything she was given. She sacrificed her own youth, because she didn't want her little sister to go into the foster system. She gave up love, in order for me to go chase my dreams. She gives and gives in order to make others happy, because that's the person she is. She's the most beautiful human being alive, and for anyone--especially people who are supposed to be in my corner--to say differently disgusts me to my core. I am not a robot. I hurt, I ache, I love, and I cry. And it breaks me to live in a world where I have to be afraid of showing who I really am in order to gain followers. So if you don't like this fact--that I am not single and that I am hopelessly in love--then that's fine. If I lose fans over this, I'm okay with that. I will make every sacrifice in the world from this point on in order to give my love fully to the woman who has given more than she ever should've had to give. I love you, Haze. From the new moon to the fullest. From now until forever.
Brittainy C. Cherry (The Wreckage of Us)
There are people who learn political information for reasons other than becoming better voters. Just as sports fans love to follow their favorite teams even if they cannot influence the outcomes of games, so there are also “political fans” who enjoy following political issues and cheering for their favorite candidates, parties, or ideologies. Unfortunately, much like sports fans, political fans tend to evaluate new information in a highly biased way. They overvalue anything that supports their preexisting views, and to undervalue or ignore new data that cuts against them, even to the extent of misinterpreting simple data that they could easily interpret correctly in other contexts. Moreover, those most interested in politics are also particularly prone to discuss it only with others who agree with their views, and to follow politics only through like-minded media.
Ilya Somin
Now, I’m not a fan of fad diets. They simply don’t work long term because they’re either too restrictive or they don’t emphasize a lifestyle that can be maintained. The truth is that the people who follow fad diets do so in a “yo-yo” fashion. They lose weight and then put it back on. Sometimes they’ll even gain more weight. In my opinion, fad diets are usually one step forward, two steps back. Really, the only way to maintain an optimal weight is to focus on lifestyle modification. Weight loss is a simple equation, but is hard to do in the real world. The “magical” formula is to expend more energy than you take in.
S.J. Scott (10,000 Steps Blueprint - the daily walking habit for healthy weight loss and lifelong fitness)
My Dearest, Can you forgive me? In a world that I seldom understand, there are winds of destiny that blow when we least expect them. Sometimes they gust with the fury of a hurricane, sometimes they barely fan one’s cheek. But the winds cannot be denied, bringing as they often do a future that is impossible to ignore. You, my darling, are the wind that I did not anticipate, the wind that has gusted more strongly than I ever imagined possible. You are my destiny. I was wrong, so wrong, to ignore what was obvious, and I beg your forgiveness. Like a cautious traveler, I tried to protect myself from the wind and lost my soul instead. I was a fool to ignore my destiny, but even fools have feelings, and I’ve come to realize that you are the most important thing that I have in this world. I know I am not perfect. I’ve made more mistakes in the past few months than some make in a lifetime. I was wrong to deny what was obvious in my heart: that I can’t go on without you. You were right about everything. I tried to deny the things you were saying, even though I knew they were true. Like one who gazes only backward on a trip across the country, I ignored what lay ahead. I missed the beauty of a coming sunrise, the wonder of anticipation that makes life worthwhile. It was wrong of me to do that, a product of my confusion, and I wish I had come to understand that sooner. Now, though, with my gaze fixed toward the future, I see your face and hear your voice, certain that this is the path I must follow. It is my deepest wish that you give me one more chance. For the first few days after you left, I wanted to believe that I could go on as I always had. But I couldn’t. I knew in my heart that my life would never be the same again. I wanted you back, more than I imagined possible, yet whenever I conjured you up, I kept hearing your words in our last conversation. No matter how much I loved you, I knew it wasn’t going to be possible unless we—both of us—were sure I would devote myself fully to the path that lay ahead. I continued to be troubled by these thoughts until late last night when the answer finally came to me. Oh, I am sorry, so very sorry, that I ever hurt you. Maybe I’m too late now. I don’t know. I love you and always will. I am tired of being alone. I see children crying and laughing as they play in the sand, and I realize I want to have children with you. I am sick and sad without you. As I sit here in the kitchen, I am praying that you will let me come back to you, this time forever.
Nicholas Sparks (Message in a Bottle)
Like a child, I close my eyes as if they can't see me either. The fire from the kiss broadcasts itself all over me in the form of a full-body blush. Galen laughs. "There it is," he says, running his thumb over my bottom lip. "That is my favorite color. Wow." I'm going to kill him. "Galen. Please. Come. With. Me," I coke out. Gliding past him, my bare feet slap against the tile until I'm stomping on carpet in the hallway, then up the stairs. I can tell by the prickles on my skin that he's following like a good dead fish. As I reach the ladder to the uppermost level, I nod to him to keep following before I hoist myself up. Pacing the room until he gets through the trap door, I count more Mississipis than I've ever counted in my whole life. He closes the door and locks it shut but makes no move to come closer. Still, for a person who's about to die, he seems more amused than he should. I point my finger at him, but can't decide what to accuse him of first, so I put it back down. After several moments of this, he breaks the silence. "Emma, calm down." "Don't tell me what to do, Highness." I dare him with my eyes to call me "boo." Instead of the apology I'm looking for, his eyes tell me he's considering kissing me again, right now. Which is meant to distract me. Tearing my gaze from his mouth, I stride to the window seat and move the mountains of pillows on it. Making myself comfortable, I lean my head against the window. He knows as well as I do that if we had a special spot, this would be it. For me to sit here without him is the worst kind of snub. In the reflection, I see him run his hand through his hair and cross his arms. After a few more minutes, he shifts his weight to the other leg. He knows what I want. He knows what will earn him entrance to the window seat and my good graces. I don't know if it's Royal blood or manly pride that keeps him from apologizing, but his extended delay just makes me madder. Now I won't accept an apology. Now, he must grovel. I toss a satisfied smirk into the reflection only to find he's not there anymore. His hand closes around my arm and he jerks me up against him. His eyes are stormy, intense. "You think I'm going to apologize for kissing you?" he murmurs. "I. Yes. Uh-huh." Don't look at his mouth! Say something intelligent. "We don't have any clothes on." Fan-flipping-tastic. I meant to say he shouldn't kiss me in front of everyone, especially half naked. "Mmm," he says, pulling me closer. Brushing his lips against my ear, he says, "I did happen to notice that. Which is why I shouldn't have followed you up here.
Anna Banks (Of Poseidon (The Syrena Legacy, #1))
because they were cousins, used to spend their time at parties in wandering through the rooms, each clutching her bag and followed by her daughter, hunting for one another like people at a railway station, and could never be at rest until they had reserved, by marking them with their fans or handkerchiefs, two adjacent chairs;
Marcel Proust (In Search Of Lost Time (All 7 Volumes) (ShandonPress))
I heard Taylor Swift playing through the speakers, and laughed when Chase reached his hand out to me. “I didn’t think you’d be a fan of Taylor Swift,” I said, following him a short distance away from his truck. He turned and wrapped one arm around my waist, and took my hand in his. He started swaying, and I fell into his easy rhythm.
Tamsyn Bester (The Line Between (The Line Between #1))
The next step in the process is to measure the impact that these increases in reach have on your number of new transacting customers. The secret to a company’s reach strategy lies in the program’s ability not only to acquire fans, followers, subscribers and connections, but to convert them through its use of social media into transacting customers.
Olivier J. Blanchard (Social Media ROI: Managing and measuring social media efforts in your organization (Que Biz-Tech))
Without saying anything, Dara gathered her pillow and one of the soft comforters from her bed and carried it into Carolina's room. Mackenzie and Jennifer followed her. They would sleep in her room that night, keeping the ice packs around her, adjusting the fan. One by one they fixed their make-shift beds on the floor, close to each other, and close to Carolina.
Barbara Casey (The Cadence of Gypsies (The F.I.G. Mysteries, Book 1))
THE GERMANS AND THE DOG were engaged in a military operation which had an amusingly self-explanatory name, a human enterprise which is seldom described in detail, whose name alone, when reported as news or history, gives many war enthusiasts a sort of post-coital satisfaction. It is, in the imagination of combat’s fans, the divinely listless loveplay that follows the orgasm of victory. It is called “mopping up.
Kurt Vonnegut Jr. (Slaughterhouse-Five)
With 21 million people following her on Facebook and 18 million on Twitter, pop singer Ariana Grande can’t personally chat with each of her loves, as she affectionately calls her fans. So she and others are spreading their messages through new-style social networks, via mobile apps that are more associated with private, intimate conversation, hoping that marketing in a cozier digital setting adds a breath of warmth and a dash of personality. It’s the Internet’s equivalent of mailing postcards rather than plastering a billboard. Grande could have shared on Twitter that her most embarrassing moment on stage was losing a shoe. The 21-year-old instead revealed the fact during a half-hour live text chat on Line, an app built for close friends to exchange instant messages. It’s expensive to advertise on Facebook and Twitter, and the volume of information being posted creates uncertainty over what people actually notice. Chat apps including Line, Kik, Snapchat, WeChat and Viber place marketing messages front and center. Most-used apps The apps threaten to siphon advertising dollars from the social media leaders, which are already starting to see chat apps overtake them as the most-used apps on smartphones, according to Forrester Research. Chat apps “demand attention,” said Rebecca Lieb, an analyst at consulting firm Altimeter Group.
The common denominator in all these problems is that the world is not a line of dominoes in which each event causes exactly one event and is caused by exactly one event. The world is a tissue of causes and effects that criss and cross in tangled patterns. The embarrassments for Hume's two theories of causation (conjunction and counterfactuals) can be diagrammed as a family of networks in which the lines fan in or out or loop around, as in the diagram on the following page.
Steven Pinker (The Stuff of Thought: Language as a Window into Human Nature)
In the leadup to the election of 1876, swing votes were tied to the issue of Chinese immigration in the same way that immigration was a hot topic during this election cycle. Rutherford Hayes endorsed Chinese exclusion and won the election. In the following election, James Garfield also carried the torch of anti-Chinese immigration into office. (From those days to now, every presidential election has fanned the flames of anti-immigration. This, Henry, shows that hate and fear are reliable, predictable, and effective political tools.) All of this led eventually to the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, which barred the entry of all Chinese immigrants to the United States except for those who were teachers, students, diplomats, ministers, or merchants. It also declared all Chinese totally ineligible for naturalized citizenship. This clause alone allowed the United States to join Nazi Germany and South Africa as the only nations every to withhold naturalization purely on racial grounds.
Lisa See (Radical Hope: Letters of Love and Dissent in Dangerous Times)
I am often asked by editors, fans, friends about what I read or which authors influence my writing. My answer seems surprising to them, for people expect names and quotes from me, while I give them the source of "feelings". I believe that becoming a writer is not about finding similarities, nor following the same trends, with different accessories. I often un-follow subscriptions and newsfeeds when I want to write about something. When I write I follow, read and am inspired by Life, People and Passion. I guess my "current" is personal and universal. (Soar)
Soar (Yours, poetically: Special Deluxe Edition of Selected Poems and Quotes)
So you see, George Lucas is a sadist. But like any abused child, wearing a metal bikini, chained to a giant slug about to die, I keep coming back for more. Now why, you might ask? Well, (I would answer), let’s face it, George Lucas is a visionary, right? The man has transported audiences the world over and has provided Mark and Harrison and myself with enough fan mail and even a small merry band of stalkers, keeping us entertained for the rest of our unnatural lives—not to mention identities that will follow us to our respective graves like a vague, exotic smell.
Carrie Fisher (Wishful Drinking)
To be a serious fan is to be in a relationship with distance. Just like the act of waiting, engaging with distance is a Sisyphean task. Each act of fandom is an attempt to bridge some gap, to obliterate or quietly dissolve the space with wanting, caring, knowing. Sometimes we’re content with distance, there’s a respect for it and the contractual understanding between us and our object that’s borne from it. Sometimes we might resent it, but we can’t forget it: that’s the deal. The type of closeness and distance we have depends on the artist we choose–or are compelled–to follow.
Hannah Ewens (Fangirls)
It may seem that there are many followers of Jesus, but if they were honestly to define the relationship they have with him I am not sure it would be accurate to describe them as followers. It seems to me that there is a more suitable word to describe them. They are not followers of Jesus. They are fans of Jesus. Here is the most basic definition of fan in the dictionary: “An enthusiastic admirer” It’s the guy who goes to the football game with no shirt and a painted chest. He sits in the stands and cheers for his team. He’s got a signed jersey hanging on his wall at home and multiple bumper stickers on the back of his car. But he’s never in the game. He never breaks a sweat or takes a hard hit in the open field. He knows all about the players and can rattle off their latest stats, but he doesn’t know the players. He yells and cheers, but nothing is really required of him. There is no sacrifice he has to make. And the truth is, as excited as he seems, if the team he’s cheering for starts to let him down and has a few off seasons, his passion will wane pretty quickly. After several losing seasons you can expect him to jump off the fan wagon and begin cheering for some other team. He is an enthusiastic admirer.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
We’re in a time now where, more than ever, girls and young queer people create modern mainstream music and fan cultures with their outlooks and actions. They’re the ones at the helm of fan practices that the public have a vague awareness of: tweeting their favourite artist incessantly, writing fan fiction, religiously updating devoted social media profiles, buying ‘meet-and-greet’ tickets and following the band around to various show dates. This is slowly being acknowledged, in part for the money it generates for a changing music industry, and in part because of the ‘women in music’ literature that has been published in the 2010s.
Hannah Ewens (Fangirls)
Monstrous Sea Private Message 2:54 p.m. 28 - Oct -16 rainmaker: Hey, it’s Wallace. Please tell me I blew your mind again. You make the best face when your mind is being blown. MirkerLurker: Whoa that sounded dirty. rainmaker: Too much? MirkerLurker: Ummmmmmmmmm rainmaker: Too much. Noted. MONSTROUS SEA FORUMS USER PROFILE rainmaker * Fanfiction Moderator AGE: Not telling you LOCATION: NO INTERESTS: MS. Writing things.Campfires. Sweaters. Sleeping in. Dogs. Followers 1,350,199 | Following 54 | Posts 9,112 [Unique Works 144] UPDATES View earlier updates Oct 20 2016 The next chapter of the Auburn Blue fanfic will probably be a little late. Just started at the new school. So, that’s fun. Oct 21 2016 Thanks to @joojooboogee for my new avatar! #DallasRainerForever Oct 23 2016 If math homework were a real person, I’d be doing 25 to life. #Mathslaughter Oct 24 2016 There might actually be other MS fans at this school. THANK JESUS I’M SAVED. Oct 26 2016 Life is destroying me today. No time to write. Stupid math. #Mathslaughter Oct 27 2016 Definitely another MS fan at this school. Pros: Awesome; Not alone; Pretty girl. Cons: Pretty girl. #Fuuuuuuuuck Oct 28 2016 Heyyyy let’s not talk about the pretty girl anymore okay she’s probably looking at this.
Francesca Zappia (Eliza and Her Monsters)
Selling is crucial to your success because without the sale, you do not make any money. The great thing about writing a book to position yourself is that the book does a lot of the selling for you. People read the book and come to you for more answers. If you have products created to match the theme of your book, your platform (website) will do the selling for you. Automate as much of the process as you can with opt-in boxes, video sales landing pages and special offers. Make it as easy as you can for your fans and followers. Once your products are created, simply write about them, talk about them, and create articles from the content and say, “Yes” to interviews. The buzz created will point people back to your site where your automatic sales team is ready to take orders 24 hours a day.
Kytka Hilmar-Jezek (Book Power: A Platform for Writing, Branding, Positioning & Publishing)
Groupies and hangers-on somehow fancy themselves entitled to the narcissist’s favour and largesse, his time, attention, and other resources. They convince themselves that they are exempt from the narcissist’s rage and wrath and immune to his vagaries andabuse . This self-imputed and self-conferred status irritates the narcissist no end as it challenges and encroaches on his standing as the only source of preferential treatment and the sole decision-maker when it comes to the allocation of his precious and cosmically significant wherewithal. The narcissist is the guru at the centre of a cult. Like other gurus, he demands complete obedience from his flock: his spouse, his offspring, other family  members, friends, and colleagues. He feels entitled to adulation and special treatment by his followers. He punishes the wayward and the straying lambs. He enforces discipline, adherence to his teachings, and common goals. The less accomplished he is in reality – the more stringent his mastery and the more pervasive the brainwashing. Cult leaders are narcissists who failed in their mission to "be someone", to become famous, and to impress the world with their uniqueness, talents, traits, and skills. Such disgruntled narcissists withdraw into a "zone of comfort" (known as the "Pathological Narcissistic Space") that assumes the hallmarks of a cult. The – often involuntary – members of the narcissist's mini-cult inhabit a twilight zone of his own construction. He imposes on them an exclusionary or inclusionary shared psychosis, replete with persecutory delusions, "enemies", mythical-grandiose narratives, and apocalyptic scenarios if he is flouted. Exclusionary shared psychosis involves the physical and emotional isolation of the narcissist and his “flock” (spouse, children, fans, friends) from the outside world in order to better shield them from imminent threats and hostile intentions. Inclusionary shared psychosis revolves around attempts to spread the narcissist’s message in a missionary fashion among friends, colleagues, co-workers, fans, churchgoers, and anyone else who comes across the mini-cult. The narcissist's control is based on ambiguity, unpredictability, fuzziness, and ambientabuse . His ever-shifting whims exclusively define right versus wrong, desirable and unwanted, what is to be pursued and what to be avoided. He alone determines the rights and obligations of his disciples and alters them at will.
Sam Vaknin
What are you doing here?” he asked Bailey, surprised that Bailey was roaming the streets in his wheelchair at eleven o'clock. “Karaoke, baby.” “Karaoke?” “Yep. Haven't done it in a while, and we've been getting complaints from the produce section. Seems the carrots have formed a Bailey Sheen fan club. Tonight is for the fans. Fern's got quite a following in the frozen foods.” “Karaoke . . . here?” Ambrose didn't even crack a smile . . . but he wanted to. “Yep. Closing time means we have free rein of the place. We take over the store’s sound system, use the intercom for a microphone, plug in our CDs, and rock Jolley's Supermarket. It's awesome. You should join us. I should warn you, though, I'm amazing, and I'm also a mic hog.” Fern giggled, but looked at Ambrose hopefully. Oh, hell, no. He wasn't singing Karaoke. Not even to please Fern Taylor, which he actually wanted to do, surprisingly enough.
Amy Harmon (Making Faces)
As she crossed the defence team, Indrani saw Sesha sitting in a chair with his legs crossed and looking cool and composed. Mythili, who was by his side, was offering him coffee from a flask. As if they were in a cinema house waiting for the movie to resume after intermission. When everything pointed to an adverse verdict, how could he be so relaxed? He was typing something into his cell phone; perhaps tweeting. He had a massive following on Twitter. It ranged from simple appreciation for his administrative prowess to absolute fetish over everything about him—his trademark cotton pants and shirt, which had become a rage among his female fans, his Santro car, which had become a symbol of simplicity and his frugal dietary habits, which somehow raised him to a sainthood and absolved him of anything wicked. The more the mainstream media like TV and newspapers worked against him, the stronger was the support he got from his Twitter followers.
Hariharan Iyer (Surpanakha)
It's all about the relationships; forming them and sustaining them, growing and building a back and forth that will be useful to both parties. Generally speaking, I'm not a fan of the practice so often seen today: a person decides that a particular God or Goddess is suitable for a one off ritual or occasion, calls them up, expects them to grant boons and favours and help out in whatever situation is being worked for, and then is never heard from again. If a complete stranger walked into your house and asked for a favour, however politely - would you be inclined to help? Possibly you would, and sometimes the Powers do too, if there is sufficient offering or perhaps bribery involved. They are not above being bought off. However, most people would be far more inclined to help out when a friend asks a favour, and this follows through with the Gods, in my experience. A give and take relationship is the most effective and respectful way I have found of working with them.
Lora O'Brien (A Practical Guide to Irish Spirituality)
I still remember the day I first came across the Internet. It was back in 1993, when I was in high school. I went with a couple of buddies to visit our friend Ido (who is now a computer scientist). We wanted to play table tennis. Ido was already a huge computer fan, and before opening the ping-pong table he insisted on showing us the latest wonder. He connected the phone cable to his computer and pressed some keys. For a minute all we could hear were squeaks, shrieks and buzzes, and then silence. It didn’t succeed. We mumbled and grumbled, but Ido tried again. And again. And again. At last he gave a whoop and announced that he had managed to connect his computer to the central computer at the nearby university. ‘And what’s there, on the central computer?’ we asked. ‘Well,’ he admitted, ‘there’s nothing there yet. But you could put all kinds of things there.’ ‘Like what?’ we questioned. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘all kinds of things.’ It didn’t sound very promising. We went to play ping-pong, and for the following weeks enjoyed a new pastime, making fun of Ido’s ridiculous idea. That was less than twenty-five years ago (at the time of writing).
Yuval Noah Harari (Homo Deus: A History of Tomorrow)
I want to convince you that intellectual property is important, that it is something that any informed citizen needs to know a little about, in the same way that any informed citizen needs to know at least something about the environment, or civil rights, or the way the economy works. I will try my best to be fair, to explain the issues and give both sides of the argument. Still, you should know that this is more than mere description. In the pages that follow, I try to show that current intellectual property policy is overwhelmingly and tragically bad in ways that everyone, and not just lawyers or economists, should care about. We are making bad decisions that will have a negative effect on our culture, our kids’ schools, and our communications networks; on free speech, medicine, and scientific research. We are wasting some of the promise of the Internet, running the risk of ruining an amazing system of scientific innovation, carving out an intellectual property exemption to the First Amendment. I do not write this as an enemy of intellectual property, a dot-communist ready to end all property rights; in fact, I am a fan. It is precisely because I am a fan that I am so alarmed about the direction we are taking.
CASE STUDY In 2012, investigators were trying to understand why supermarkets in the United States were being robbed every month of Tide detergent – and only Tide detergent. As with every investigation, they ‘followed the money’ only to find that Tide was the money. Bottles of Tide had become an ad hoc street currency, with 150-ounce bottles being exchanged for $5 or $10 worth of drugs, earning it the nickname ‘Liquid Gold’. As New York magazine pointed out: ‘this unlikely black market would not have formed if they weren’t so good at pushing their product’.37 It turns out that despite being considered a ‘low interest category’, people have very strong feelings about their detergents. Tide came in the top three brands that consumers were least likely to give up during tough times. This bond has allowed the producer, Procter & Gamble, to charge 50 per cent more than the average detergent and yet it still outsells its nearest competitor, which is also produced by P&G, by more than two to one. So, what is it about Tide that means more people will pay 50 per cent more for a functionally parity product from the same manufacturer? The investigating sergeant puts it well: ‘I’m a No. 1 Tide fan’, he says. ‘I don’t know if it’s all psychological, but you can tell the difference.’38
Faris Yakob (Paid Attention: Innovative Advertising for a Digital World)
A shadow appeared on the awnings further up the land, gliding across each rectangle of canvas towards my table, sinking in the sag, rising again at the edge, and moving on to the next with a flicker of dislocation, then gliding onwards. As it crossed the stripe of sunlight between two awnings, it threaded the crimson beak of a stork through the air, a few inches above the gap; then came a long white neck, the swell of snowy breast feathers and the six-foot motionless span of its white wings and the tips of the black flight feathers upturned and separated as fingers in the lift of the air current. The white belly followed, tapering, and then, trailing behind, the fan of its tail and long parallel legs of crimson lacquer, the toes of each of them closed and streamlined, but the whole shape flattening, when the band of sunlight was crossed, into a two-dimensional shadow once more, enormously displayed across the rectangle of cloth, as distinct and nearly as immobile, so languid was its flight, as an emblematic bird on a sail; then sliding across it and along the nearly still corridor of air between the invisible eaves and the chimneys, dipping along the curl of the lane like a sigh of wonder, and, at last, a furlong away slowly pivoting, at a gradual tilt, out of sight. A bird of passage like the rest of us.
Patrick Leigh Fermor (The Broken Road: From the Iron Gates to Mount Athos)
I struggle with words. Never could express myself the way I wanted. My mind fights my mouth, and thoughts get stuck in my throat. Sometimes they stay stuck for seconds or even minutes. Some thoughts stay for years; some have stayed hidden all my life. As a child, I stuttered. What was inside couldn't get out. I'm still not real fluent. I don't know a lot of good words. If I were wrongfully accused of a crime, I'd have a tough time explaining my innocence. I'd stammer and stumble and choke up until the judge would throw me in jail. Words aren't my friends. Music is. Sounds, notes, rhythms. I talk through music. Maybe that's why I became a loner, someone who loves privacy and doesn't reveal himself too easily. My friendliness might fool you. Come into my dressing room and I'll shake your hand, pose for a picture, make polite small talk. I'll be as nice as I can, hoping you'll be nice to me. I'm genuinely happy to meet you and exchange a little warmth. I have pleasant acquaintances with thousands of people the world over. But few, if any, really know me. And that includes my own family. It's not that they don't want to; it's because I keep my feelings to myself. If you hurt me, chances are I won't tell you. I'll just move on. Moving on is my method of healing my hurt and, man, I've been moving on all my life. Now it's time to stop. This book is a place for me to pause and look back at who I was and what I became. As I write, I'm seventy hears old, and all the joy and hurts, small and large, that I've stored up inside me...well, I want to pull 'em out and put 'em on the page. When I've been described on other people's pages, I don't recognize myself. In my mind, no one has painted the real me. Writers have done their best, but writers have missed the nitty-gritty. Maybe because I've hidden myself, maybe because I'm not an easy guy to understand. Either way, I want to open up and leave a true account of who I am. When it comes to my own life, others may know the cold facts better than me. Scholars have told me to my face that I'm mixed up. I smile but don't argue. Truth is, cold facts don't tell the whole story. Reading this, some may accuse me of remembering wrong. That's okay, because I'm not writing a cold-blooded history. I'm writing a memory of my heart. That's the truth I'm after - following my feelings, no matter where they lead. I want to try to understand myself, hoping that you - my family, my friends, my fans - will understand me as well. This is a blues story. The blues are a simple music, and I'm a simple man. But the blues aren't a science; the blues can't be broken down like mathematics. The blues are a mystery, and mysteries are never as simple as they look.
B.B. King (Blues All Around Me: The Autobiography of B.B. King)
Hi, Bruce,’ said Uzma. ‘Hello,’ Bruce replied. ‘Would it be possible to have a photo taken?’ she asked. ‘Sure, we can do that!’ he replied, smiling broadly. I took the photograph. Then it was my turn. He signed my book and bandanna and posed for another photograph. Just as I was about to let the next fan have their moment in the sun I turned to Springsteen and said, ‘Bruce. Three words: “Point Blank”, acoustic’ The following night I was sitting in the Sheffield Arena with Amolak and my sister. It was 16 April 1993 and we were in the front block ten or fifteen rows from the stage. Uzma was having the time of her life. It was her first Springsteen concert and it was so wonderful to see her having so much fun. Springsteen had just finished singing ‘Badlands’ when he requested an acoustic guitar and told the audience: ‘A fella came up to me and asked for this song. I don't know if he's out there tonight, but if he is, this is for you.’ He began slowly strumming the acoustic guitar before singing, ‘Do you still say your prayers darling, before you go to bed at night? Praying that tomorrow everything will be all right?’ He was singing ‘Point Blank’. I doubled up, buried my face in my hands and wept. Amolak hugged me. ‘Point Blank’ was one of my favourite songs. I never imagined I would hear it sung acoustically. The fact that Springsteen had remembered my request and then decided to actually listen to my suggestion was overwhelming. As I continued to cry uncontrollably and as Bruce Springsteen continued to sing ‘Point Blank’, Amolak said to me: ‘You see, buddy, dreams do come true.’ *
Sarfraz Manzoor (Greetings from Bury Park)
I freely admit that the best of my fun, I owe it to Horse and Hound - Whyte Melville (1821-1878) "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest English. Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof! Fathers that, like so many Alexanders, Have in these parts from morn till even fought And sheathed their swords for lack of argument: Dishonour not your mothers; now attest That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you. Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!" ... King Henry V 1598 (William Shakespeare) I can resist anything except temptation - Oscar Wilde (Lady Windermere's Fan, 1892) In order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different - Coco Chanel When it comes to pain and suffering, she's right up there with Elizabeth Taylor - Truvy (Steel Magnolias) She looks too pure to be pink (Rizzo, Grease) I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow - Scarlett O'Hara (Gone With The Wind.)
George John Whyte-Melville
THE sun had not yet risen. The sea was indistinguishable from the sky, except that the sea was slightly creased as if a cloth had wrinkles in it. Gradually as the sky whitened a dark line lay on the horizon dividing the sea from the sky and the grey cloth became barred with thick strokes moving, one after another, beneath the surface, following each other, pursuing each other, perpetually. As they neared the shore each bar rose, heaped itself, broke and swept a thin veil of white water across the sand. The wave paused, and then drew out again, sighing like a sleeper whose breath comes and goes unconsciously. Gradually the dark bar on the horizon became clear as if the sediment in an old wine-bottle had sunk and left the glass green. Behind it, too, the sky cleared as if the white sediment there had sunk, or as if the arm of a woman couched beneath the horizon had raised a lamp and flat bars of white, green and yellow, spread across the sky like the blades of a fan. Then she raised her lamp higher and the air seemed to become fibrous and to tear away from the green surface flickering and flaming in red and yellow fibres like the smoky fire that roars from a bonfire. Gradually the fibres of the burning bonfire were fused into one haze, one incandescence which lifted the weight of the woollen grey sky on top of it and turned it to a million atoms of soft blue. The surface of the sea slowly became transparent and lay rippling and sparkling until the dark stripes were almost rubbed out. Slowly the arm that held the lamp reused it higher and then higher until a broad flame became visible; an arc of fire burnt on the rim of the horizon, and all round it the sea blazed gold. The light struck upon the trees in the garden, making one leaf transparent and then another. One bird chirped high up; there was a pause; another chirped lower down. The sun sharpened the walls of the house, and rested like the tip of a fan upon a white blind and made a blue fingerprint of shadow under the leaf by the bedroom window. The blind stirred slightly, but all within was dim and unsubstantial. The birds sang their blank melody outside.
Virginia Woolf (The Waves)
A winnowing fan was droning away in one of the barns and dust poured out of the open door. On the threshold stood the master himself, Alyokhin, a man of about forty, tall, stout, with long hair, and he looked more like a professor or an artist than a landowner. He wore a white shirt that hadn't been washed for a very long time, and it was tied round with a piece of rope as a belt. Instead of trousers he was wearing underpants; mud and straw clung to his boots. His nose and eyes were black with dust. He immediately recognised Ivan Ivanych and Burkin, and was clearly delighted to see them. 'Please come into the house, gentlemen,' he said, smiling, 'I'll be with you in a jiffy.' It was a large house, with two storeys. Alyokhin lived on the ground floor in the two rooms with vaulted ceilings and small windows where his estate managers used to live. They were simply furnished and smelled of rye bread, cheap vodka and harness. He seldom used the main rooms upstairs, reserving them for guests. Ivan Ivanych and Burkin were welcomed by the maid, who was such a beautiful young woman that they both stopped and stared at each other. 'You can't imagine how glad I am to see you, gentlemen,' Alyokhin said as he followed them into the hall. 'A real surprise!' Then he turned to the maid and said, 'Pelageya, bring some dry clothes for the gentlemen. I suppose I'd better change too. But I must have a wash first, or you'll think I haven't had one since spring. Would you like to come to the bathing-hut while they get things ready in the house?' The beautiful Pelageya, who had such a dainty look and a gentle face, brought soap and towels, and Alyokhin went off with his guests to the bathing-hut. 'Yes, it's ages since I had a good wash,' he said as he undressed. 'As you can see, it's a nice hut. My father built it, but I never find time these days for a swim.' He sat on one of the steps and smothered his long hair and neck with soap; the water turned brown. 'Yes, I must confess...' Ivan Ivanych murmered, with a meaningful look at his head. 'Haven't had a wash for ages,' Alyokhin repeated in his embarrassment and soaped himself again; the water turned a dark inky blue.
Anton Chekhov (Gooseberries and Other Stories (The Greatest Short Stories, Pocket Book))
Then, on a left-hand curve 2.8 kilometres from the finish line, Marco delivers another cutting acceleration. Tonkov is immediately out of the saddle. The gap reaches two lengths. Tonkov fights his way back and is on Marco’s wheel when Marco, who is still standing on the pedals, accelerates again. Suddenly Tonkov is no longer there. Afterwards Tonkov would say he could no longer feel his hands and feet. ‘I had to stop. I lost his slipstream. I couldn’t go on.’ Marco told Romano Cenni he could taste blood. His performance on Montecampione was close to self-mutilation. Seven hundred metres from the finish line, the TV camera on the inside of the final right-hand bend, looking down the hill, picks Marco up over two hundred metres from the line and follows him for fifty metres, a fifteen-second close-up, grainy, pallid in the late-afternoon light. A car and motorbike, diffused and ghostlike, pass between the camera and Marco, emerging out of the gloom. The image cuts to another camera, tight on him as he swings round into the finishing straight, a five-second flash before the live, wide shot of the stage finish: Marco, framed between ecstatic fans on either side, and the finish-line scaffolding adorned with race sponsors‘ logos; largest, and centrally, the Gazzetta dello Sport, surrounded by branding for iced tea, shower gel, telephone services. Then we see it again in the super-slow-motion replay; the five seconds between the moment Marco appeared in the closing straight and the moment he crossed the finish line are extruded to fifteen strung-out seconds. The image frames his head and little else, revealing details invisible in real time and at standard resolution: a drop of sweat that falls from his chin as he makes the bend, the gaping jaw and crumpled forehead and lines beneath the eyes that deepen as Marco wrings still more speed from the mountain. As he rides towards victory in the Giro d‘Italia, Marco pushes himself so deeply into the pain of physical exertion that the gaucheness he has always shown before the camera dissolves, and — this must be the instant he crosses the line — he begins to rise out of his agony. The torso lifts to vertical, the arms spread out into a crucifix position, the eyelids descend, and Marco‘s face, altered by the darkness he has seen in his apnoea, lifts towards the light.
Matt Rendell
The riders fanned out, but my immediate escort rode straight to the overhanging rusty roof that formed a rudimentary barn. The Marquis dismounted and stretched out his hand to grip the bridle of my horse. “Inside,” he said to me. I dismounted. Again the ground seemed to heave beneath my feet, but I leaned against the shoulders of my mount until the world steadied, and then I straightened up. The Marquis walked toward the open doorway. In a kind of blank daze, I followed the sweeping black cloak inside and down a tiny hall, to a door made of old, rickety twigs bound together. The Marquis opened this and waved me into a little room. I took two steps inside it, looked-- And there, lying on a narrow bed, with books and papers strewn about him, was my brother, Branaric. “Mel!” he exclaimed. “Burn it, you were right,” he said past me. “Ran her to ground at Vesingrui, eh?” A voice spoke behind me. “They were just about to drop on us.” I turned, saw the Marquis leaning in the doorway, a growing puddle of rainwater at his feet. For a long moment I could do nothing except stand as if rooted. The world seemed about to dissolve for a sickening moment, but I sucked in a ragged breath and it righted again, and I threw myself down on my knees next to the bed, knocking my soggy, shapeless hat off, and hugged Branaric fiercely. “Mel, Mel,” Bran said, laughing, then he groaned and fell back on his pillows. “Softly, girl. Curse it! I’m weak as a newborn kitten.” “And will be for a time,” came the voice from the doorway. “Once your explanations have been made, I exhort you to remember Mistress Kylar’s warning.” “Aye, I’ve it well in mine,” Bran said. And as the door closed, he looked up at me from fever-bright eyes. “He was right! Said you’d go straight after ‘em, sword and knife. What’s with you?” “You said, ‘A trap.’ I thought it was them,” I muttered through suddenly numb lips. “Wasn’t it?” “Didn’t you see the riding of greeners?” Bran retorted. “It was Debegri, right enough. He had paid informants in those inns, for he was on the watch for your return. Why d’you think Vidanric sent the escort?” “Vidanric?” “His name,” Branaric said, still staring at me with that odd gaze. “You could try to use it--only polite. After all, Shevraeth is just a title, and he doesn’t go about calling either of us Tlanth.” I’d rather cut out my tongue, I thought, but I said nothing.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1))
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Chris Harrison
I thought we were meeting by the field house,” I call out as I make my way over. He doesn’t even turn around. “Nah, I’m pretty sure I said the parking lot.” “You definitely said the field house,” I argue. Why can’t he ever just admit that he’s wrong? “Geez, field house, parking lot. What difference does it make?” Mason asks. “Give it a rest, why don’t you.” I shoot him a glare. “Oh, hey, Mason. Remember when your hair was long and everyone thought you were a girl?” Ryder chuckles as he releases a perfect spiral in Mason’s direction. “She’s got you there.” “Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?” Mason catches the ball and cradles it against his chest, then launches it toward Ben. I just stand there watching as they continue to toss it back and forth between the three of them. Haven’t they had enough football for one day? I pull out my cell to check the time. “We should probably get going.” “I guess,” Ryder says with an exaggerated sigh, like I’m putting him out or something. Which is particularly annoying since he’s the one who insisted on going with me. Ben jogs up beside me, the football tucked beneath his arm. “Where are you two off to? Whoa, you’re sweaty.” I fold my arms across my damp chest. “Hey, southern girls don’t sweat. We glow.” Ben snorts at that. “Says who?” “Says Ryder’s mom,” I say with a grin. It’s one of Laura Grace’s favorite sayings--one that always makes Ryder wince. “The hardware store,” Ryder answers, snatching the ball back from Ben. “Gotta pick up some things for the storm--sandbags and stuff like that. Y’all want to come?” “Nah, I think I’ll pass.” Mason wrinkles his nose. “Pretty sure I don’t want to be cooped up in the truck with Jemma glowing like she is right now.” “Everybody thought you and Morgan were identical twin girls,” I say with a smirk. “Remember, Mason? Isn’t that just so cute?” “I’ll go,” Ben chimes in. “If you’re getting sandbags, you’ll need some help carrying them out to the truck.” “Thanks, Ben. See, someone’s a gentleman.” “Don’t look now, Ryder, but your one-woman fan club is over there.” Mason tips his head toward the school building in the distance. “I think she’s scented you out. Quick. You better run.” I glance over my shoulder to find Rosie standing on the sidewalk by the building’s double doors, looking around hopefully. “Hey!” Mason calls out, waving both arms above his head. “He’s over here.” Ryder’s cheeks turn beet-red. He just stares at the ground, his jaw working furiously. “C’mon, man,” Ben says, throwing an elbow into Mason’s side. “Don’t be a dick.” He grabs the football and heads toward Ryder’s Durango. “We better get going. The hardware store probably closes at six.” Silently, Ryder and I hurry after him and hop inside the truck--Ben up front, me in the backseat. We don’t look back to see if Rosie’s following.
Kristi Cook (Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1))
When he was gone the men on the bench began to laugh. One of them rose to better see the map. Es un fantasma, he said. Fantasma? Sí, sí. Claro. Cómo? Cómo? Porque el viejo está loco es como. Loco? Billy stood looking at the map. No es correcto? he said. The man threw up his hands. He said that what they beheld was but a decoration. He said that anyway it was not so much a question of a correct map but of any map at all. He said that in that country were fires and earthquakes and floods and that one needed to know the country itself and not simply the landmarks therein. Besides, he said, when had that old man last journeyed to those mountains? Or journeyed anywhere at all? His map was after all not really so much a map as a picture of a voyage. And what voyage was that? And when? Un dibujo de un viaje, he said. Un viaje pasado, un viaje antigun. He threw up one hand in dismissal. As if no more could be said. Billy looked at the other three men on the bench. They watched with a certain brightness of eye so that he wondered if he were being made a fool of. But the one seated at the right leaned forward and tapped the ash from his cigarette and addressed the man standing and said that as far as that went there were certainly other dangers to a journey than losing one's way. He said that plans were one thing and journeys another. He said it was a mistake to discount the good will inherent in the old man's desire to guide them for it too must be taken into account and would in itself lend strength and resolution to them in their journey. The man who was standing weighed these words and then erased them in the air before him with a slow fanning motion of his forefinger. He said that the jovenes could hardly be expected to apportion credence in the matter of the map. He said that in any case a bad map was worse than no map at all for it engendered in the traveler a false confidence and might easily cause him to set aside those instincts which would otherwise guide him if he would but place himself in their care. He said that to follow a false map was to invite disaster. He gestured at the sketching in the dirt. As if to invite them to behold its futility. The second man on the bench nodded his agreement in this and said that the map in question was a folly and that the dogs in the street would piss upon it. But man on the right only smiled and said that for that matter the dogs would piss upon their graves as well and how was this an argument? The man standing said that what argued for one case argued for all and that in any event our graves make no claims outside of their own simple coordinates and no advice as to how to arrive there but only the assurance that arrive we shall. It may even be that those who lie in desecrated graves-by dogs of whatever manner-could have words of a more cautionary nature and better suited to the realities of the world. At this the man at the left who'd so far not spoke at all rose laughing and gestured for the two boys to follow and they went with him out of the square and into the street leaving the disputants to their rustic parkbench tertulia.
Cormac McCarthy (The Crossing (The Border Trilogy, #2))
If talking pictures could be said to have a father, it was Lee De Forest, a brilliant but erratic inventor of electrical devices of all types. (He had 216 patents.) In 1907, while searching for ways to boost telephone signals, De Forest invented something called the thermionic triode detector. De Forest’s patent described it as “a System for Amplifying Feeble Electric Currents” and it would play a pivotal role in the development of broadcast radio and much else involving the delivery of sound, but the real developments would come from others. De Forest, unfortunately, was forever distracted by business problems. Several companies he founded went bankrupt, twice he was swindled by his backers, and constantly he was in court fighting over money or patents. For these reasons, he didn’t follow through on his invention. Meanwhile, other hopeful inventors demonstrated various sound-and-image systems—Cinematophone, Cameraphone, Synchroscope—but in every case the only really original thing about them was their name. All produced sounds that were faint or muddy, or required impossibly perfect timing on the part of the projectionist. Getting a projector and sound system to run in perfect tandem was basically impossible. Moving pictures were filmed with hand-cranked cameras, which introduced a slight variability in speed that no sound system could adjust to. Projectionists also commonly repaired damaged film by cutting out a few frames and resplicing what remained, which clearly would throw out any recording. Even perfect film sometimes skipped or momentarily stuttered in the projector. All these things confounded synchronization. De Forest came up with the idea of imprinting the sound directly onto the film. That meant that no matter what happened with the film, sound and image would always be perfectly aligned. Failing to find backers in America, he moved to Berlin in the early 1920s and there developed a system that he called Phonofilm. De Forest made his first Phonofilm movie in 1921 and by 1923 he was back in America giving public demonstrations. He filmed Calvin Coolidge making a speech, Eddie Cantor singing, George Bernard Shaw pontificating, and DeWolf Hopper reciting “Casey at the Bat.” By any measure, these were the first talking pictures. However, no Hollywood studio would invest in them. The sound quality still wasn’t ideal, and the recording system couldn’t quite cope with multiple voices and movement of a type necessary for any meaningful dramatic presentation. One invention De Forest couldn’t make use of was his own triode detector tube, because the patents now resided with Western Electric, a subsidiary of AT&T. Western Electric had been using the triode to develop public address systems for conveying speeches to large crowds or announcements to fans at baseball stadiums and the like. But in the 1920s it occurred to some forgotten engineer at the company that the triode detector could be used to project sound in theaters as well. The upshot was that in 1925 Warner Bros. bought the system from Western Electric and dubbed it Vitaphone. By the time of The Jazz Singer, it had already featured in theatrical presentations several times. Indeed, the Roxy on its opening night in March 1927 played a Vitaphone feature of songs from Carmen sung by Giovanni Martinelli. “His voice burst from the screen with splendid synchronization with the movements of his lips,” marveled the critic Mordaunt Hall in the Times. “It rang through the great theatre as if he had himself been on the stage.
Bill Bryson (One Summer: America, 1927)
For a brief moment she considered the unfairness of it all. How short was the time for fun, for pretty clothes, for dancing, for coquetting! Only a few, too few years! Then you married and wore dull-colored dresses and had babies that ruined your waist line and sat in corners at dances with other sober matrons and only emerged to dance with your husband or with old gentlemen who stepped on your feet. If you didn't do these things, the other matrons talked about you and then your reputation was ruined and your family disgraced. It seemed such a terrible waste to spend all your little girlhood learning how to be attractive and how to catch men and then only use the knowledge for a year or two. When she considered her training at the hands of Ellen and Mammy, se knew it had been thorough and good because it had always reaped results. There were set rules to be followed, and if you followed them success crowned your efforts. With old ladies you were sweet and guileless and appeared as simple minded as possible, for old ladies were sharp and they watched girls as jealously as cats, ready to pounce on any indiscretion of tongue or eye. With old gentlemen, a girl was pert and saucy and almost, but not quite, flirtatious, so that the old fools' vanities would be tickled. It made them feel devilish and young and they pinched your cheek and declared you were a minx. And, of course, you always blushed on such occasions, otherwise they would pinch you with more pleasure than was proper and then tell their sons that you were fast. With young girls and young married women, you slopped over with sugar and kissed them every time you met them, even if it was ten times a day. And you put your arms about their waists and suffered them to do the same to you, no matter how much you disliked it. You admired their frocks or their babies indiscriminately and teased about beaux and complimented husbands and giggled modestly and denied you had any charms at all compared with theirs. And, above all, you never said what you really thought about anything, any more than they said what they really thought. Other women's husbands you let severely alone, even if they were your own discarded beaux, and no matter how temptingly attractive they were. If you were too nice to young husbands, their wives said you were fast and you got a bad reputation and never caught any beaux of your own. But with young bachelors-ah, that was a different matter! You could laugh softly at them and when they came flying to see why you laughed, you could refuse to tell them and laugh harder and keep them around indefinitely trying to find out. You could promise, with your eyes, any number of exciting things that would make a man maneuver to get you alone. And, having gotten you alone, you could be very, very hurt or very, very angry when he tried to kiss you. You could make him apologize for being a cur and forgive him so sweetly that he would hang around trying to kiss you a second time. Sometimes, but not often, you did let them kiss you. (Ellen and Mammy had not taught her that but she learned it was effective). Then you cried and declared you didn't know what had come over you and that he couldn't ever respect you again. Then he had to dry your eyes and usually he proposed, to show just how much he did respect you. And there were-Oh, there were so many things to do to bachelors and she knew them all, the nuance of the sidelong glance, the half-smile behind the fan, the swaying of hips so that skirts swung like a bell, the tears, the laughter, the flattery, the sweet sympathy. Oh, all the tricks that never failed to work-except with Ashley.
Margaret Mitchell (Gone with the Wind)
Being filled with the power of the Spirit begins with an honest acknowledgment of our own weakness.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Facebook advertising at a glance. Marketing is the most vital aspect in any enterprise to expertise growth and income. In in the present day`s enterprise world, entrepreneurs are quick changing into online entrepreneurs as a result of they understand that in an effort to reach out to the specified goal market it's good to develop an online platform to attract shoppers. Previous marketing strategies reminiscent of sale and product promotions, provides, warranties buy facebook likes and guarantees are quick turning into an old technique. It is because these strategies are used by nearly all enterprise franchises on the earth. In order to stand out from other companies, entrepreneurs are initiating online interaction platforms for his or her potential shoppers particularly the younger individuals. Furthermore, you may additionally must know that it will be of help of inestimable value to your facebook advertising and marketing campaign for those who set up fans web page and appeal to extra fans to the page. Having fan pages can actually be a lift to your web site site visitors and ensuing elevated revenue. Fan pages are a splendid approach to build a more intimate link with fans and to consent to them know in this area further and unusual issues you're duty. You may attract extra followers to your fans web page, by holding contest and broadcasting messages to encourage folks to check out your fan web page now and again. Fb advertising modified slightly when Graph Search was introduced. Customers had been out of the blue given the option of checking in after they go to a location. That is very useful to area-centered companies. Which means that the buddies of a consumer who checks-in to your restaurant or shop will be capable to see a visible location on a map. The Graph Search additionally allows a person to discover a enterprise simpler inside his or her locality. You may capitalize on this characteristic by providing discounted deals to purchasers that visit your retailer typically. Social media advertising and marketing is turning into an increasing number of of a main advertising and marketing software and with time those that are but to engage are beginning to get left behind. Most companies are coming to the belief that with out an online presence it is exhausting to stay afloat, but with all the choices out there it's hard to determine essentially the most applicable platform for your online business.
We have taken “believe” and we have written that in capital letters with bold print: BELIEVE. But everything that has to do with following has been put in small print: follow.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Because soccer clubs are the only businesses that get daily publicity without trying to, they treat journalists as humble supplicants instead of as unpaid marketers of the clubs’ brands. The media often retaliate by being mean. This is not very clever of the clubs, because almost all their fans follow them through the media rather than by going to the stadiums.
Simon Kuper (Soccernomics: Why England Loses, Why Spain, Germany, and Brazil Win, and Why the U.S., Japan, Australia—and Even Iraq—Are Destined to Become the Kings of the World's Most Popular Sport)
Work hard, and stay polite. This will make for a real fan following!
Shweta Bhatnagar
The downside of attending to the emotional life of groups is that it can swamp the ability to get anything done; a group can become more concerned with satisfying its members than with achieving its goals. Bion identified several ways that groups can slide into pure emotion - they can become "groups for pairing off," in which members are mainly interested in forming romantic couples or discussing those who form them; they can become dedicated to venerating something, continually praising the object of their affection (fan groups often have this characteristic, be they Harry Potter readers or followers of the Arsenal soccer team), or they can focus too much on real or perceived external threats. Bion trenchantly observed that because external enemies are such spurs to group solidarity, some groups will anoint paranoid leaders because such people are expert at identifying external threats, thus generating pleasurable group solidarity even when the threats aren't real.
Clay Shirky (Cognitive Surplus: Creativity and Generosity in a Connected Age)
Kneeling down next to an article of clothing, Kevin looked up to see Christine a few feet away, gathering up one of her extravagant lolita dresses. Looking at her like this, the girl really did look cute, like a fragile porcelain doll. As he continued to watch her, his eyes landed on the black choker around her neck. “Isn’t that the choker that I bought you for your birthday a while back?” Kevin asked. Christine paused in her work. Her hand went to her choker. “A-ah, um, yes, it is. I… well, this is my… my favorite choker, so I like to wear it a lot…” Christine’s cheeks flushed once more, but she at least didn’t seem to be blowing her top. “After you, Iris, and Lilian left, I was really lonely. I hadn’t realized how important all of you were to me until you were gone. Ever since that day, ever since you three went off to Greece, I’ve taken to wearing this, because it reminded me of all the good times we’ve shared together.” That was probably the most honest thing he’d ever heard Christine say since she’d confessed her feelings for him. He’d noticed it before, but Christine really was a tsundere. She rarely ever told anyone what she was really thinking, and she covered up her embarrassment with bluster and violence. Moments like this were rare for her. He could count the number of times where she’d been honest with her feelings on one hand and still have fingers left over. “I’m sorry we left you like that,” Kevin apologized. Christine shook her head. “You don’t need to apologize. I know that you didn’t have much of a choice. Had you not left, then…” Then he, Lilian, and Iris would have put everyone in danger. Back then, Lilian had been targeted by the Shénshèng Clan. One of its members, a three-tailed kitsune named Fan had attacked them during Lindsay’s soccer game. Iris had nearly been killed and Kevin had destroyed an entire school building just to defeat Fan. Christine had been there when it happened, so she understood why they had to leave. “Thank you for being so understanding,” he said. Christine quickly turned her back to him. “T-there’s no need to thank me. We’re friends. I-I was only doing what any good friend would do.” Tsundere until the end, Kevin thought with an amused chuckle. “Then, Christine, I’m very glad that you’re my friend.” Christine squeaked. As she sputtered incoherently, Kevin finally grabbed the article that he’d been kneeling over. Blinking when he realized that it felt different than everything else that he’d picked up thus far, he held the article up to study it. “What is this…?” He trailed off. The object in his hands… was Christine’s panties. “Uh…” Kevin could hear his brain sizzling. “W-what are you doing, idiot!? Don’t stare at those!” Christine leapt at him, and Kevin, too shocked by the object in his hands to do anything, let her tackle him to the ground. The panties were thrown from his hands as his back slammed into the floor. Spots appeared in his vision, but they were soon replaced by Christine’s face, which hovered not two inches from his own. Their noses were almost touching. “C-Christine?” He felt his eyes widen as Christine’s face inched a little closer to his. This was bad. This was a very bad situation. Christine was straddling him, and he could feel her thighs touching him, and her body was pressed against him, and… and… Oh, no… Perhaps it was the result of him still being horny because Christine had interrupted him and Lilian while they were having sex, but Kevin felt his arousal skyrocket. Christine felt it, too, because her eyes went even wider and she looked down. He also looked down. Then he looked back up. Their eyes met. Christine’s face was the brightest blue that he’d ever seen. “I can explain this,” Kevin said calmly. “KYA!” The sound of Christine’s scream was followed by a loud slap.
Brandon Varnell (A Fox's War (American Kitsune, #12))
He had mastered the art of conducting a love affair through all its stages, from infatuation to consummation, wholly within its mind. How could he do that? The indispensable first step was to capture what he called “a living image” of the beloved and make it his own. Upon this image he would then dwell, giving breath to it, until he had reached a point where, still in the realm of the imagination, he could begin to make love to this succubus of his and eventually conduct her into the utmost transports; and this whole passionate history would remain unbeknown to the earthly original. [ On the erotic life ] It all hinged, he replied, on being able to capture, through the closest, most dedicated attention, that unique unconscious gesture, too slight or too fleeting to be noticed by the average eye, by which a woman gave herself away - gave away her erotic essence, that is to say, her soul. The way she turned her wrist to look at her wristwatch, for example, or the way she reached down to pull tight the strap of a sandal. Once that unique movement was caught, the erotic imagination could explore it at leisure until the woman’s every last secret was laid open, not excluding how she moved in the arms of a lover, how she came to her climax. From the giveaway gesture all followed “as if by fate”. [ On the erotic life ] That’s the beauty of thoughts, isn’t it, that distance doesn’t matter, and separation. [ On compassion ] The woman from Lausanne complains above all of loneliness. She has created a protective ritual for herself in which she retires to bed at night with music playing in the background and lies cosily reading a book, immersed in what she tells herself is bliss. Then, as she begins to reflect on her situation, bliss turns to disquiet. Is this truly the best that life affords, she asks herself - lying in bed alone with a book? Is it such a good thing to be a comfortable, prosperous citizen of a model democracy, secure in her home in the heart of Europe? Despite herself, she grows more and more agitated. She rises, dons dressing gown and slippers and takes up her pen. [ On fan mail ]
J.M. Coetzee (Diary of a Bad Year)
When enthusiasts meet, they soon become friends.
Amit Kalantri (Wealth of Words)
Yes, sports fans, in just one session in the Colosseum, I managed to slice my hand with a gladius and stab my thigh with a pugio. I twanged my cheek with a bowstring and pierced my foot with an arrow. (Note to self: never wear sandals to weapons practice again.) I launched a weird weighted-dart thingy called a plumbata into the stands. And for my grand finale I clocked my instructor on the head with the butt of my pilum when I reared back to throw. (She turned it into a teachable moment about why we each wear a galea, immediately followed by a second teachable moment in which she explained galea means helmet.)
Rick Riordan (Camp Jupiter Classified: A Probatio's Journal (The Trials of Apollo))
I don’t think I’m too wrapped up in these identities until someone gets it wrong. I know it sounds pathetic, and believe me I am embarrassed to admit it, but I sometimes—more often than I wish—find myself wanting to be identified by something I’ve done or accomplished. Most of us grew up being taught that our identity as a person is based on our accomplishments. Your identity is closely tied to the points you score, the trophies you win, the grades you make, the diplomas you earn, the jobs you get, the promotions you receive, the portfolio you build. We build our resumés, display our achievements, and frame our accomplishments. In Philippians 3 Paul talks about how his identity used to be wrapped up in these things. He had some pretty impressive credentials. He was born into the right family, attended notable schools, received impressive degrees, landed in a powerful position. If he was introduced by someone who was identifying him, everyone would have been impressed. But here’s Paul’s conclusion about all of that. I once thought these things were valuable, but now I consider them worthless because of what Christ has done. Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage, so that I could gain Christ. (Philippians 3:7–8 NLT) I am a follower of Jesus. No mistake I have ever made and no success I have ever had says as much about me as that. And when I embrace that identity and understand that a follower is who I am, then following is what I will do. Nominative
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Musically likes free a way to get free followers on Musically fanatics enthusiasts .com Musically fans. Get Featured On get followers on free get free followers on Musically followers Free Likes. Followers App free likes buy followers
And my story will be that outrageous that eager fans will follow from bathroom to bathroom, from country
Anni Taylor (The Six)
you just need an engaged audience of true fans.
Sean Cannell (YouTube Secrets: The Ultimate Guide to Growing Your Following and Making Money as a Video Influencer)
Remember, it’s always easier to give existing fans more content than to find new fans.
Sean Cannell (YouTube Secrets: The Ultimate Guide to Growing Your Following and Making Money as a Video Influencer)
Gaining a thousand true fans is much easier than aiming for a million, especially when you’re just starting out. If you can add just one new fan a day, you can get to a thousand in a few years.
Sean Cannell (YouTube Secrets: The Ultimate Guide to Growing Your Following and Making Money as a Video Influencer)
Creating a community name allows fans and superfans to affiliate, self-declare, and self-align with their community and tribe.
Sean Cannell (YouTube Secrets: The Ultimate Guide to Growing Your Following and Making Money as a Video Influencer)
Create a direct relationship with them, so that they are paying you directly. That way, you keep the full $100 from each fan. Then, you only need 1,000 of them to earn $100,000 per year. That’s a great living for most people.
Sean Cannell (YouTube Secrets: The Ultimate Guide to Growing Your Following and Making Money as a Video Influencer)
Kevin Kelly15 that says, ‘To be a successful creator, you do not need millions of dollars or millions of customers, millions of clients or millions of fans. To make a living as a craftsperson, photographer, musician, designer, author, animator, app maker, entrepreneur, or inventor, you only need a thousand true fans.
Sean Cannell (YouTube Secrets: The Ultimate Guide to Growing Your Following and Making Money as a Video Influencer)
Here’s the actual math, according to Kelly. You have to create enough content that you can earn, on average, $100 profit a year from each fan.
Sean Cannell (YouTube Secrets: The Ultimate Guide to Growing Your Following and Making Money as a Video Influencer)
It is a scientific fact that time is infinitely divisible, that each moment contains within it the fragments of a thousand others, and each of them can be splintered into a thousand more, and so on and so on. Somewhere then, hidden within these shards of time that occur in the endless instants between the second hand, Cinnabar moved, setting his webbed palm around the pistol at his waist and fanning off two shots. To the subjective observer, however - to Angie and her unfortunate sibling - the salamander's movements were impossible to follow. Before their brains could process the information gathered by their senses, perhaps even before their senses had recognized the stimulus itself, bits of iron had exploded through their skulls and made either act impossible.
Daniel Polansky (The Builders)
The most dangerous part of following Jesus tomorrow isn’t what you will lose between now and then. That’s not the worst thing that can happen. The worst thing that can happen is that tomorrow might never come.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Teen Edition: What does it really mean to follow Jesus?)
One should never underestimate the power of a true believer to believe. It's more than a hobby. It's more than a way of life. It's a psychological condition. These folks are defined by their desperate need to believe, and will do so with the least provocation. Hardly matters what. They take pride in their ability to accept the most bizarre notions with the least amount of evidence, the exact opposite of scientists, who pridefully nourish a skeptical attitude. As extraordinary as it sounds, the most direct absolute incontrovertible proof to the contrary will not only NOT dissuade the eager believer, the psychological process set in motion by contrary evidence has the effect of creating an even stronger belief. Which is why flying saucer fans will continue to believe even though they were not picked up at the expected time and place, and why rapture buffs will enthusiastically follow the pastor who predicted the last doomsday that didn’t happen. These people hunger for the traumatic end of the world, the world in which they are seen as losers. The imagined rapture is their opportunity to say neigh neigh to all those smug non believers with their smarter than thou attitudes. And if at times they feel silly for believing in obvious absurdities, the rapture would surely reward them for their foolish faith. Few would call them morons then. As one of the greatest philosophers of our time once said, "Isn't it sad how some people's grip on their lives is so precarious that they'll embrace any preposterous delusion rather than face an occasional bleak truth." Calvin, of Calvin and Hobbes, age six at the time.
Timothy Wade Huntley (Earthgame, A Player's Guide)
The person with the most contacts does not win a prize. Number of friends, likes or fans is only measured by those who want to boast of more contacts. But a contact alone is worth nothing. The real prize comes to those who create the most interactions with the contacts they already have. These interactions sometimes gain them additional followers, usually lead to more interpersonal interactions and will ultimately bring in sales.
Brian Basilico (It's Not About You, It's About BACON! Relationship Marketing in a Social Media World)
Instead of following Jesus they are following religious rules and rituals. They have confused the targets.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Initially working out of our home in Northern California, with a garage-based lab, I wrote a one page letter introducing myself and what we had and posted it to the CEOs of twenty-two Fortune 500 companies. Within a couple of weeks, we had received seventeen responses, with invitations to meetings and referrals to heads of engineering departments. I met with those CEOs or their deputies and received an enthusiastic response from almost every individual. There was also strong interest from engineers given the task of interfacing with us. However, support from their senior engineering and product development managers was less forthcoming. We learned that many of the big companies we had approached were no longer manufacturers themselves but assemblers of components or were value-added reseller companies, who put their famous names on systems that other original equipment manufacturers (OEMs) had built. That didn't daunt us, though when helpful VPs of engineering at top-of-the-food-chain companies referred us to their suppliers, we found that many had little or no R & D capacity, were unwilling to take a risk on outside ideas, or had no room in their already stripped-down budgets for innovation. Our designs found nowhere to land. It became clear that we needed to build actual products and create an apples-to-apples comparison before we could interest potential manufacturing customers. Where to start? We created a matrix of the product areas that we believed PAX could impact and identified more than five hundred distinct market sectors-with potentially hundreds of thousands of products that we could improve. We had to focus. After analysis that included the size of the addressable market, ease of access, the cost and time it would take to develop working prototypes, the certifications and metrics of the various industries, the need for energy efficiency in the sector, and so on, we prioritized the list to fans, mixers, pumps, and propellers. We began hand-making prototypes as comparisons to existing, leading products. By this time, we were raising working capital from angel investors. It's important to note that this was during the first half of the last decade. The tragedy of September 11, 2001, and ensuing military actions had the world's attention. Clean tech and green tech were just emerging as terms, and energy efficiency was still more of a slogan than a driver for industry. The dot-com boom had busted. We'd researched venture capital firms in the late 1990s and found only seven in the United States investing in mechanical engineering inventions. These tended to be expansion-stage investors that didn't match our phase of development. Still, we were close to the famous Silicon Valley and had a few comical conversations with venture capitalists who said they'd be interested in investing-if we could turn our technology into a website. Instead, every six months or so, we drew up a budget for the following six months. Via a growing network of forward-thinking private investors who could see the looming need for dramatic changes in energy efficiency and the performance results of our prototypes compared to currently marketed products, we funded the next phase of research and business development.
Jay Harman (The Shark's Paintbrush: Biomimicry and How Nature is Inspiring Innovation)
May I ask you a personal question?” She looked up in query and made the graceful little gesture that I had learned was an invitation. “Isn’t Shevraeth a friend of yours?” “Yes,” she said cautiously. “Then why the fan, and the careful words when you asked about your friend Elenet?” Nee set her cup down, her brow slightly furrowed. “We are friends to a degree…Though we all grew up at Court, I was never one of his intimates, nor even one of his flirts. Those all tended to be the leaders of fashion. So I don’t really know how close he was to any of them, except perhaps for Savona. It took everyone by surprise to find out that he was so different from the person we’d grown up with.” She shrugged. “He was always an object of gossip, but I realized recently that though we heard much about what he did, we never heard what he thought.” “You mean he didn’t tell anyone,” I said. “Exactly. Anyway, Elenet is an old friend, of both of us, which is complicated by her family’s machinations. Her safety is important to me. Yet in referring to it, I don’t want to seem one of the busybodies or favor-seekers.” “I don’t think you could,” I said. She laughed. “Anyone can do anything, with determination and an inner conviction of being right. Whether they really are right…” She shrugged. “Well, if he wants to be king, he’ll just plain have to get used to questions and toadies and all the rest of it,” I said. Remembering the conversation at dinner and wondering if I’d made an idiot of myself, I added crossly, “I don’t have any sympathy at all. In fact, I wish he hadn’t come up here. If he needed rest from the fatigue of taking over a kingdom, why couldn’t he go to that fabulous palace in Renselaeus? Or to Shevraeth, which I’ll just bet has an equally fabulous palace?” Nee sighed. “Is that a rhetorical or a real question?” “Real. And I don’t want to ask Bran because he’s so likely to hop out with my question when we’re all together and fry me with embarrassment,” I finished bitterly. She gave a sympathetic grin. “Well, I suspect it’s to present a united front, politically speaking. You haven’t been to Court, so you don’t quite comprehend how much you and your brother have become heroes--symbols--to the kingdom. Especially you, which is why there were some murmurs and speculations when you never came to the capital.” I shook my head. “Symbol for failure, maybe. We didn’t win--Shevraeth did.” She gave me an odd look midway between surprise and curiosity. “But to return to your question, Vidanric’s tendency to keep his own counsel ought to be reassuring as far as people hopping out with embarrassing words are concerned. If I were you--and I know it’s so much easier to give advice than to follow it--I’d sit down with him, when no one else is at hand, and talk it out.” Just the thought of seeking him out for a private talk made me shudder. “I’d rather walk down the mountain in shoes full of snails.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
Well, if he wants to be king, he’ll just plain have to get used to questions and toadies and all the rest of it,” I said. Remembering the conversation at dinner and wondering if I’d made an idiot of myself, I added crossly, “I don’t have any sympathy at all. In fact, I wish he hadn’t come up here. If he needed rest from the fatigue of taking over a kingdom, why couldn’t he go to that fabulous palace in Renselaeus? Or to Shevraeth, which I’ll just bet has an equally fabulous palace?” Nee sighed. “Is that a rhetorical or a real question?” “Real. And I don’t want to ask Bran because he’s so likely to hop out with my question when we’re all together and fry me with embarrassment,” I finished bitterly. She gave a sympathetic grin. “Well, I suspect it’s to present a united front, politically speaking. You haven’t been to Court, so you don’t quite comprehend how much you and your brother have become heroes--symbols--to the kingdom. Especially you, which is why there were some murmurs and speculations when you never came to the capital.” I shook my head. “Symbol for failure, maybe. We didn’t win--Shevraeth did.” She gave me an odd look midway between surprise and curiosity. “But to return to your question, Vidanric’s tendency to keep his own counsel ought to be reassuring as far as people hopping out with embarrassing words are concerned. If I were you--and I know it’s so much easier to give advice than to follow it--I’d sit down with him, when no one else is at hand, and talk it out.” Just the thought of seeking him out for a private talk made me shudder. “I’d rather walk down the mountain in shoes full of snails.” It was Nee’s turn to shudder. “Life! I’d rather do almost anything than that--” A “Ho!” outside the door interrupted her. Bran carelessly flung the tapestry aside and sauntered in. “There y’are, Nee. Come out on the balcony with me? It’s actually nice out, and we’ve got both moons up.” He extended his hand. Nee looked over at me as she slid her hand into his. “Want to come?” I looked at those clasped hands, then away. “No, thanks,” I said airily. “I think I’ll practice my fan, then read myself to sleep. Good night.” They went out, Bran’s hand sliding round her waist. The tapestry dropped into place on Nee’s soft laugh. I got up and moved to my window, staring out at the stars. It seemed an utter mystery to me how Bran and Nimiar enjoyed looking at each other. Touching each other. Even the practical Oria, I realized--the friend who told me once that things were more interesting than people--had freely admitted to liking flirting. How does that happen? I shook my head, thinking that it would never happen to me. Did I want it to? Suddenly I was restless and the castle was too confining. Within the space of a few breaths I had gotten rid of my civilized clothing and soft shoes and had pulled my worn, patched tunic, trousers, and tough old mocs from the trunk in the corner. I slipped out of my room and down the stair without anyone seeing me, and before the moons had traveled the space of a hand across the sky, I was riding along the silver-lit trails with the wind in my hair and the distant harps of the Hill Folk singing forlornly on the mountaintops.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
The grandeur around us was a silent testimony to wealth and power. The air was scented with a complex mixture of exotic flowers and the faintest trace of tanglewood incense, denoting peace and kindred spirits. “Easy over the fence,” Deric said softly beside me. We were already at the parlor. I suppressed a grin at the riding term, then stepped forward to curtsy to the Marquise. “My dear Countess,” Lady Arthal said, smiling as she pressed my hand. “Welcome. Permit me to introduce my children, Fialma and Flauvic. The rest of the company you know.” Lady Fialma was tall, brown-haired, with cold eyes and the elevated chin of one who considers herself to be far above whomever she happens to be looking at--or down on. She was magnificently gowned, with so many glittering jewels it almost hurt the eyes to look at her. She would have been handsome but for a very long nose--which was the more obvious because of that imperious tilt to her head--and thinly compressed lips. “Welcome,” she said, in so faint and listless a voice that it was almost hard to hear her. “Delighted to…” She shrugged slightly, and her languidly waving fan fluttered with a dismissive extra flick. Lord Flauvic, on the other side of their mother, was startlingly beautiful. His coloring was fair, his long waving hair golden with ruddy highlights. His eyes were so light a brown as to seem gold, a match for his hair. “…meet you, Countess,” he said, finishing his sister’s sentence. Politeness? Humor? Insult? Impossible to guess. His voice was the pure tenor of a trained singer, his gaze as blank as glass as he took my hand and bowed over it. Of medium height and very slender, he was dressed in deep blue, almost black, with a rare scattering of diamonds in his hair, in one ear, and on his clothing. I realized I was staring and looked away quickly, following Deric into the next room. He fell into conversation with Branaric, Shevraeth, and Lady Renna Khialem, the subject (of course) horses. Deric’s manner reminded me of someone relieved to find allies. Next to Bran sat Nee, completely silent, her hands folded in her lap. Under cover of the chatter about horse racing, I looked around, feeling a little like a commander assessing a potential battlefield. Our hosts, despite their gracious outward manner, had made no effort to bind the guests into a circle. Instead, people were clumped in little groups, either around the magnificent buffet, or around the fireplace. As I scanned them, I realized who was there--and who was not there. Present: counts, countesses, a duke, a duchess, heirs to these titles, and the only two people in the marquisate: Shevraeth and our hostess. Absent: anyone with the title of baron or lower, except those--like Nee--who had higher connections. Absent also were the Prince and Princess of Renselaeus.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
When Jesus invites you to follow Him, his invitation comes to you right where you are. He doesn't want you to wait until tomorrow in hopes that you will finally be heading down the right path; He wants you to say yes today and he will lead you out of where you are now.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Jesus has a lot of fans these days. Fans who cheer for Him when things are going well, but who walk away when its a difficult season. fans who sit safely in the stands cheering, but they know nothing of the sacrifice and pain of the field. Fans of Jesus who know all about Him, but they don't know Him.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
We talked more about what had happened, and Nee maintained that Savona’s picking me up and walking out was the signal that had finished Tamara. This made me wonder, as I dressed alone in my room, if there had been an unspoken struggle going on all along between the two of them. If so, he’d won. If she’d been the more influential person, his walking out with me would not have mattered; her followers would have stayed and dissected my manners, morals, and background with delicacy and finesse and oh-so-sad waves of their fans. And another thing Nee maintained was that it was my forthright admission that I was drunk that had captivated Savona. Such honesty was considered risky, if not outright madness. This inspired some furious thinking while I dressed, which produced two resolutions. Before I could lose my courage, I stopped while my hair was half done, and dashed off a note to my Unknown: I’ll tell you what conclusion I’ve reached after a morning’s thought, and it’s this: that people are not diamonds and ought not to be imitating them. I’ve been working hard at assuming Court polish, but the more I learn about what really goes on behind the pretty voices and waving fans and graceful bows, the more I comprehend that what is really said matters little, so long as the manner in which it is said pleases. I understand it, but I don’t like it. Were I truly influential, then I would halt this foolishness that decrees that in Court one cannot be sick; that to admit you are sick is really to admit to political or social or romantic defeat; that to admit to any emotions usually means one really feels the opposite. It is a terrible kind of falsehood that people can only claim feelings as a kind of social weapon. Apparently some people thought it took amazing courage to admit that I was drunk, when it was mere unthinking truth. This is sad. But I’m not about to pride myself on telling the truth. Reacting without thinking--even if I spoke what I thought was true--has gotten me into some nasty situations during the recent year. This requires more thought. In the meantime, what think you? I signed it and got it sent before I could change my mind, then hastily finished dressing. At least, I thought as I slipped out the door, I won’t have to see his face when he reads it, if he thinks it excessively foolish.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
There is no way to follow Jesus without Him interfering in your life. Following Jesus will cost you something. Following Jesus always costs you something.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
There is no forgiveness without repentance. There is no salvation without surrender. There is no life without death. There is no believing without committing.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
The one thing that we are most reluctant to give up has the most potential to become a substitute for Him.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
For many, satisfaction comes with a price tag. If you just had enough money you could order it off the internet or buy it off the shelf. But Jesus wants to be our satisfaction. He described himself as living water that quenches our thirst forever. Money becomes a substitute for God because it promises to do for us what he wants to do for us. In
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Next was the foursome I had been bracing myself to face all along: Tamara, Savona, the newly met Lady Elenet, and the Marquis of Shevraeth. Very conscious of Olervec’s pale eyes following me, I forced myself to greet the Marquis first: “Good morning,” I said, as if we’d been talking just the day before. “How much I wish to thank you for putting me in the way of finding the proper books for my project.” Again that laughter was evident in his glance as he sketched a bow. “If you have any further questions,” he said, “it would be my pleasure to accommodate you.” “I’d be honored.” I curtsied, my hands making the fan gesture of Unalloyed Gratitude. The shadow of humor in the corners of his mouth deepened. Then I turned to the others. Savona grinned at me, one hand moving slightly in the fencer’s salute of a good hit. I fought the urge to blush as Tamara murmured, “You’ll be in the race tomorrow?” “Of course,” I said, lifting my hands. “I have to prove whether my wins last time were luck, skill--or the kindness of well-wishers.” Tamara smiled a little. “And once you’ve proved which it is?” “Why then I either celebrate, commiserate--or fulminate!” They all laughed at that, even the quiet Elenet, though her laughter was so soft I scarcely heard it. I turned to Shevraeth and said, “Will you be there?” “I hope to be,” he said. “Riding your gray?” “Is that a challenge?” he replied with a hint of a smile. I opened my mouth, then a stray memory brought back our private wager before we reached Athanarel and nothing could prevent the heat that burned up my neck into my face; so I quickly bent over, making a business of ordering one of the flounces on my gown. After I had straightened up I’d have an excuse for a red face, or at least enough of one to pass the notice of the three who (presumably) knew nothing of that unpaid wager. “I think,” I said, retying a ribbon and patting it into place, then unbending with what I hoped was an expression of nonchalance, “I’d better find out if my luck is due to skill or kindness before I make any pledges.” “Very well,” he said. “A friendly race will suffice.” When the conversation came to a natural close, I retreated to Nee’s side and finished the rest of the picnic with her and Bran.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
The reason Jesus talked more about money than any other subject is because it can easily become his chief competition. We end up following money and the things money can buy instead of Jesus. Many
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
Isabella Stewart Gardner was a talked-about woman. Anyone with a tongue for scandal followed her every provocation, from smoking in public to brandishing large hats during Boston Symphony Orchestra performances. They talked about every male she bumped into, and she bumped into many. She wore French fashion, exposing more flesh than Boston puritans were accustomed to. Even noncontroversial acts fanned the flames of story. She did nothing to quell the rumors about her, adding witty one-liners which appeared with exclamation points in newspaper gossip columns. Henry James cast her life in Portrait of a Lady. Paris
Kameel Nasr (The Museum Heist: A Tale of Art and Obsession)
Great Sardaar" An ornamental piece of work by the Punjabi industry. Produced by Amritjit Singh Sran and Directed by Ranjeet Bal under the production house Apna Heritage &Sapphire Films presents to you "Great Sardaar" an Action/Drama film starring none other than the budding artist Dilpreet Dhillon and the multi talented Yograj Singh. This movie is an Action/Drama film in which the protagonist ends up with a series of challenges. The movie stars Dilpreet Dhillon as the lead along with Yograj singh who plays the role of (Dilpreet Dhillon) Gurjant's father. After watching the trailer one can surely say there's tasty substance beneath the froth, just enough to keep you hooked. "GREAT SRADAAR" is based on the true events about Major Shaitan Singh, who was awarded the Param Vir Chakra posthumously for his 'C' company's dig-in at Rezang La pass during the Sino-India conflict of 1962. This motivational movie is a Tribute to Sikkhism. It's really healing to see movies that are based on true events. It builds so much more compassion. Dilpreet Dhillon popularly known for his role in "once upon a time in Amritsar" has gained a great fan following. He is considered is one of the popular emerging male playback singer and actor in Punjabi music industry. And when it comes to Yograj Singh, he is not only a former Indian cricketer but also a boon to the Punjabi industry. Since the release of the official trailer on 7th of June,2017 which shows that the movie is action-packed and will leave the audience spellbound and wanting for more, the audience is eagerly waiting for the release of the movie.The trailer rolls by effortlessly and the Director has done an impeccable job. Ranjeet Bal evidently knew what he was doing and has ensured that every minute detail was taken care of particularly considering the genre he was treading. The audience will surely be sitting on the edge of their seats. Visual Effects Director- VFx Star has once again proved that there is nothing that will leave India from evolving in the field of technology. "Great Sardaar" which is set to be released on the 30th of June,2017 will be a very carefully structured story. The main question that will be raised is not what kind of world we live in, or what reality is like, rather what it has done to us.
Great Sardar
The world is captivated by Hollywood superstars, music artists, and sports personalities. Hollywood is portrayed as the epitome of beauty and fashion capital of the world. Whatever the actors and actresses are wearing dictate the fashion trends and lifestyle being followed by fans in a global scale. The said movie and music characters never fail to amuse and amaze us with their clothes, shoes, bags, and hairstyles. The most popular shoes are the high heel booties studded with gems, gold, and anything sparkling in-between. You certainly wonder how they can perform dance and stage stunts with these booties heels. Women look so attractive donning high heel booties. They get few extra inches in height and look stunning from head to toe. If you are going for mall shopping or walking long distances, stay away from heeled bootiesas your feet will surely get hurt. However, if you are attending special occasions and corporate functions, heel bootiesis the perfect footwear.
John Rudy (The Great Chocolate Pyramid)
I’ve also been pleasantly surprised how this proposition—the message that Jesus shows us what God is like—is often well received by those who don’t profess Christian faith. If I say, “God is love and Jesus was love incarnate,” no problem! Jesus is seldom the issue, even for a rabid, self-avowed ‘non-Christian’ such as satirist Bill Maher. His primary attacks are not against Jesus at all, but against Christians whose religion does violence in the name of the Prince of Peace. He castigates: If you’re a Christian that supports killing your enemy and torture, you have to come up with a new name for yourself. …‘Capping thy enemy’ is not exactly what Jesus would do. For almost two thousand years, Christians have been lawyering the Bible to try to figure out how ‘Love thy neighbor’ can mean ‘Hate thy neighbor.’ … Martin Luther King Jr. gets to call himself a Christian, because he actually practiced loving his enemies. And Gandhi was so f-ing Christian, he was Hindu. But if you’re endorsing revenge, torture or war, …you cannot say you’re a follower of the guy who explicitly said, ‘Love your enemy’ and ‘Do good to those who hate you.’ … And not to put too fine a point on it, but nonviolence was kind of Jesus’ trademark—kind of his big thing. To not follow that part of it is like joining Greenpeace and hating whales. There’s interpreting, and then there’s just ignoring. It’s just ignoring if you’re for torture—as are more Evangelical* Christians than any other religion. You’re supposed to look at that figure of Christ on the Cross and think, “how could a man suffer like that and forgive?” … I’m a non-Christian. Just like most Christians. If you ignore every single thing Jesus commanded you to do, you’re not a Christian—you’re just auditing. You’re not Christ’s followers, you’re just fans. And if you believe the Earth was given to you to kick ass on while gloating, you’re not really a Christian—you’re a Texan.[3]
Bradley Jersak (A More Christlike God: A More Beautiful Gospel)
Educational leadership is a profession of most intelligent one; it is not a profession where leaders make fans or followers, it is a profession where leaders make leaders.
Ashim Sarmah
Heavy Metal has been forced to create its own underworld. It plays by its own rules, follows its own aesthetic prerogatives… Metal is no longer a staple of FM radio, nor are record labels publishing it like they used to. Watching MTV and reading popular magazines, one might not even realize Heavy Metal still existed at all. Rumors of its demise are greatly exaggerated, however, as the Metal underground boils and seethes worldwide. Especially left to its own devices and relegated to independent labels run by the fans themselves, this has allowed Metal’s most antisocial and aggressive tendencies to develop unburdened by any system of moral checks and balances, which society provides–at least tenuously–for other forms of music.
Michael Moynihan (Lords of Chaos: The Bloody Rise of the Satanic Metal Underground)
Love MINECRAFT? **Over 18,000 words of kid-friendly fun!** This high-quality fan fiction fantasy diary book is for kids, teens, and nerdy grown-ups who love to read epic stories about their favorite game! Meet the Skull Kids. They're three Minecraft players who hop from world to world, hunting zombies and searching for the elusive Herobrine--the ghost in the machine. Teleporting down into a new world, the group is surprised to find that the game has changed once again, rendering almost ALL of their technology and mods useless. And when two of the Skull Kids are starving and distracted by exploring a desert village on Day 1 of their new adventure, the whole group is in danger when the sun goes down. Will the Skull Kids survive? Thank you to all of you who are buying and reading my books and helping me grow as a writer. I put many hours into writing and preparing this for you. I love Minecraft, and writing about it is almost as much fun as playing it. It’s because of you, reader, that I’m able to keep writing these books for you and others to enjoy. This book is dedicated to you. Enjoy!! After you read this book, please take a minute to leave a simple review. I really appreciate the feedback from my readers, and love to read your reactions to my stories, good or bad. If you ever want to see your name/handle featured in one of my stories, leave a review and tell me about it in there! And if you ever want to ask me any questions, or tell me your idea for a cool Minecraft story, you can email me at [email protected] Are you on my Amazing Reader List? Find out at the end of the book! June 29th, 2016 Now I’m going to try something a little different. Tell me what you guys think! This ‘Players Series’ is going to be a continuing series of books following my new characters, the players Renzor51, Molly, and quantum_steve. Make sure to let me know if you like it or not! Would you still like to see more books about mobs? More books about Cth’ka the Creeper King? I’m planning on continuing that one. ;) Don’t forget to review, and please say hi and tell me your ideas! Thanks, Ryan Gallagher, for the ideas to continue the wolf pack book! Enjoy the story. P.S. - Have you joined the Skeleton Steve Club and my Mailing List?? You found one of my diaries!! This particular book is the continuing story of some Minecraft players—a trio of friends who leap from world to world, searching for the elusive Herobrine. They’re zombie hunters and planeswalkers. They call themselves “The Skull Kids”. Every time these Skull Kids hop into a new world, they start with nothing more than the clothes they’re wearing, and they end up dominating the realm where they decide to live. What you are about to read is the first collection of diary entries from Renzor51, the player and member of the Skull Kids who documents their adventures, from the day they landed on Diamodia and carved out their own little empire, and beyond. Be warned—this is an epic book! You’re going to care about these characters. You’ll be scared for them, feel good for them, and feel bad for them! It’s my hope that you’ll be sucked up into the story, and the adventure and danger will be so intense, you’ll forget we started this journey with a video game! With that, future readers, I present to you the tale of the Skull Kids, Book 1. The Skull Kids Ka-tet Renzor51 Renzor51 is the warrior-scribe of the group, and always documents the party’s adventures and excursions into game worlds. He’s a sneaky fighter, and often takes the role of a sniper, but can go head to head with the Skull Kids’ enemies when needed. A natural artist, Renzor51 tends to design and build many of the group’s fortresses and structures, and keeps things organized. He also focuses a lot on weapon-smithing and enchanting, always seeking out ways to improve his gear. Molly
Skeleton Steve (Minecraft Diary of a Zombie Hunter Player Team 'The Skull Kids' - Book 1: Unofficial Minecraft Books for Kids, Teens, & Nerds - Adventure Fan Fiction Diary ... Hunter Skull Kids Hunting Herobrine))
The tech start-up world from which Musk hails embraces disruption as one of its organizing principles, encouraged in part by the influential blog TechCrunch, which named its flagship conference, TechCrunch Disrupt, for the concept. Silicon Valley’s budding capitalists have long been encouraged to use their software prowess and processes to disrupt existing industries, and hence we have Facebook, which disrupted the news media industry, Airbnb, which disrupted hotels, and crowdfunding, which disrupted traditional investing. When Ted Craver asked Musk to share his thoughts on disruption with an audience of old-school electricity providers, you could see why the chairman might nervously fiddle with his pen. Could Tesla, with its emerging energy-storage business, disrupt the utilities? It might have come as some comfort to those at the conference that Musk is no fan of disruption. Indeed, he and Straubel were probably there to convince utilities to work with Tesla on energy storage projects that could benefit both parties. But the industry’s fear that it might have been on the wrong side of history would not have dissipated completely. The same was true for at least one auto industry leader. The man who, until May 2017, was CEO of the Ford Motor Company is one person who does appear to be a fan of disruption. Mark Fields, a Harvard business grad and Clayton Christensen follower, was fifty-three when he was appointed to succeed outgoing CEO Alan Mulally.
Hamish McKenzie (Insane Mode: How Elon Musk's Tesla Sparked an Electric Revolution to End the Age of Oil)
minute of your time,’ he replied, a brief smile disappearing as quickly as it came. He wasn’t my best fan after Cal left. Told me I must enjoy being miserable, brought it on myself. When I argued that a betrayal of trust was enough reason to let her walk away, he told me I needed to see a doctor, followed by a psychiatrist.
Lynsey M. Stewart (A Novel Christmas)
People hate sales, but little do they know that life is sales. You sell the best parts of yourself to your future partner, you sell your intellect and ability to follow instructions to teachers and bosses, you sell your favourite parts of yourself to your friends and you sell your lessons to your children. If you aren't good at selling then the things you want to share won't be accepted. In order to reach your dreams, you have to sell something to your fans. You have to share something of yourself and package in a way that people will love it.
Rhiannon D. Elton
An actor prefers to have audiences and die-hard fans whereas a teacher prefers to have listeners and followers
P.S. Jagadeesh Kumar
A lot of people would jump at the chance to be seen with me, y'know." Her expression was pitying. "Poor Superglutes, aren't you getting enough attention from your millions of Instagram followers? Is it lonely being adored by all your fans?" "Very! All they see is this amazing body and gorgeous hair and beautiful cheekbones. Sure, I'm hilarious and great in bed, but do they appreciate it? Do you appreciate it?
Kate Meader (Instacrush (Rookie Rebels, #2))
First, lucky people notice and act on chance opportunities in their life, creating strong social networks and holding themselves open to new experiences: I was lucky; I went to a grad school that was very open to risk taking and very open to freedom. That was at McGill back in the 1960s. I think they almost had a culture of risk taking, and my supervisor used to tell me, “Just have a go. It doesn’t matter if they reject it.” (Michael Corballis, Psychology, University of Auckland) Second, they trust their intuition: I’m a big fan of following serendipitous encounters: you leave no stone unturned and follow all kinds of paths even if you don’t really expect much there. Some of them of course don’t pan out well, but occasionally, you really get rewarded. (Ann Blair, History, Harvard University) Third, they persevere in the face of criticism and rejection: When I first started getting published in medicine, I was accused of being fluffy, Mickey Mouse. All kinds of awful criticisms were made of my work and my writing—“This isn’t medical,” “You can’t publish this kind of thing as medical research.” The more I received that criticism, the more absolutely determined I became to overcome it. (Gillie Bolton, freelance writer in literature and medicine, United Kingdom) And fourth, they transform bad luck into good by seeing the positive side of unlucky events: I absolutely subscribe to the notion that any feedback is a blessing. I don’t actually care how negative the feedback is; I just keep thinking, “Gosh, this could only strengthen my paper for the next place I’m going to send it to.” (Shanthi Ameratunga, Population Health, University of Auckland)
Helen Sword (Air & Light & Time & Space: How Successful Academics Write)
Think of the Internet and your friends, followers, and fans as one big conference room. When you do that, you will understand what behaviors are appropriate and what stuff will make people report you as spam. You should conduct yourself as you would if you walked into a professional event where there are some people you’re familiar with in varying degrees and some you do not know at all.
Luvvie Ajayi Jones (I'm Judging You: The Do-Better Manual)
For years, celebrities have had armies of people helping them craft very particular visions of who they are, which has generated tre- mendous value. For example, female teen stars are told to embrace a sexier image and take edgier roles as they get older, so their fans will begin to perceive them as adult actors and follow them as they move to the next level of their careers. Tom Cruise’s team carefully crafted his image for decades, which made him wealthy and pow- erful. Then one day he decided to go off script on Oprah’s show, jump on her couch, and make some controversial comments, which dented his carefully curated image, and cost him millions in future earnings. As the Huffington Post put it, “Though Cruise’s name isstill a big box-office draw, these days, he is better known for being an outspoken advocate for Scientology and for his public antics. The couch jump marked the first shift in Tom Cruise’s image away from the heartthrob he’d been.” Over time Cruise regained some of his lost cultural capital, but the impact was significant, and it’s a vivid example of perception impacting value.
Alan Philips (The Age of Ideas: Unlock Your Creative Potential)
In general there was also a "cultural hibernation" in the camp. There were two exceptions to this: politics and religion. Politics were talked about everywhere in camp, almost continuously; the discussions were based chiefly on rumors, which were snapped up and passed around avidly. The rumors about the military situation were usually contradictory. They followed one another rapidly and succeeded only in making a contribution to the war of nerves that was waged in the minds of all the prisoners. Many times, hopes for a speedy end to the war, which had been fanned by optimistic rumors, were disappointed. Some men lost all hope, but it was the incorrigible optimists who were the most irritating companions.
Viktor E. Frankl
Every next level of your life will always demand a different version of you. At some point in your life, you have to give yourself permission to become your best version. You will begin to see things differently. Yo start spotting opportunities in the midst of chaos. Consistency is harder when no one is clapping for you. You must clap for yourself during those times, you should always be your biggest fan. Stop following the crowd and be in the business of following your purpose.
Mlungisi Simelane
Be led by faith not by your fans and followers
Bernard Kelvin Clive
About halfway through my research, I realised what it meant to be a fan. Fandom is a portmanteau of fan and kingdom–there is, as that would suggest, a king or queen regent but also a territory and community of followers. To be a fan is to scream alone together. To go on a collective journey of self-definition. It means pulling on threads of your own narrative and doing so with friends and strangers who feel like friends.
Hannah Ewens (Fangirls)
Fans come to Jesus thinking tune-up, but Jesus is thinking overhaul.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
We all have very different musical DNA, and we all follow different musical paths. Yet there is a unifying quality about rock'n'roll that helps instill confidence and hope in millions of fans at times in their lives when little else makes sense.
Robert Hilburn
Tidak ada pengampunan tanpa pertobatan. Tidak ada keselamatan tanpa penyerahan diri. Tidak ada hidup tanpa kematian. Tidak ada iman tanpa komitmen.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
If she possessed a genius—and a growing number of us think she did—it was a capacity for understanding and trusting the improvisational nature of her will. This might seem a contradictory state, and for most of us it would be. We have hopes and make plans, and if they are dashed or waylaid, we naturally rationalize and redraw the map to locate ourselves anew. Or else we brood and too firmly root. Very few can step forward again and again in what amounts to veritable leaps into the void, where there are no ready holds, where little is familiar, where you get constantly stuck in the thickets of your uncertainties and fears. Fan was different. As we have come to realize, she was not one to hold herself back. Or to be fettered. In this way she startles us, inspires us. She was someone who pursued her project as a genuine artist might, following with focus and intensity as well as an enduring innocence a goal she could not quite yet understand or see but wholly believed.
Chang-rae Lee (On Such a Full Sea)
Sorry,’ he said with a cautious dip of the head. The stranger’s eyes flicked down to the badge pinned on his vest, came back up to his face almost at once. He muttered an apology of his own in a low, stuttery kind of voice, then turned and hurried off up the boardwalk, the tails of his greatcoat flapping about his legs, his longish black hair fanning out beneath his sweaty gray hat. Cord watched him go, suddenly feeling curious and uneasy, though he couldn’t really say why. There had just been something about the man and his manner ... He had seemed edgy, agitated by something. What? Cord followed his progress through troubled eyes. The stranger had an odd, long-stepping gait, he noticed, as if he found it hard to coordinate his movements. He hurried on up the street, glanced back over his shoulder twice. What had he been up to in that black-as-pitch dogtrot? On impulse, Cord decided to find out. The dark air stank of garbage and cat-pee. Tufted grass whispered underfoot as he headed for the far end. To his
Ben Bridges (Cougar Valley (A Ben Bridges Western))
One of the greatest motivations of our love and passionate pursuit of Jesus is a better understanding of how great his love is for us. Being loved causes us to love.
Kyle Idleman (Not a Fan: Becoming a Completely Committed Follower of Jesus)
The Linux world behaves in many respects like a free market or an ecology, a collection of selfish agents attempting to maximize utility which in the process produces a self-correcting spontaneous order more elaborate and efficient than any amount of central planning could have achieved. Here, then, is the place to seek the “principle of understanding”. The “utility function” Linux hackers are maximizing is not classically economic, but is the intangible of their own ego satisfaction and reputation among other hackers. (One may call their motivation “altruistic”, but this ignores the fact that altruism is itself a form of ego satisfaction for the altruist). Voluntary cultures that work this way are not actually uncommon; one other in which I have long participated is science fiction fandom, which unlike hackerdom has long explicitly recognized “egoboo” (ego-boosting, or the enhancement of one’s reputation among other fans) as the basic drive behind volunteer activity. Linus, by successfully positioning himself as the gatekeeper of a project in which the development is mostly done by others, and nurturing interest in the project until it became self-sustaining, has shown an acute grasp of Kropotkin’s “principle of shared understanding”. This quasi-economic view of the Linux world enables us to see how that understanding is applied. We may view Linus’s method as a way to create an efficient market in “egoboo” — to connect the selfishness of individual hackers as firmly as possible to difficult ends that can only be achieved by sustained cooperation. With the fetchmail project I have shown (albeit on a smaller scale) that his methods can be duplicated with good results. Perhaps I have even done it a bit more consciously and systematically than he. Many people (especially those who politically distrust free markets) would expect a culture of self-directed egoists to be fragmented, territorial, wasteful, secretive, and hostile. But this expectation is clearly falsified by (to give just one example) the stunning variety, quality, and depth of Linux documentation. It is a hallowed given that programmers hate documenting; how is it, then, that Linux hackers generate so much documentation? Evidently Linux’s free market in egoboo works better to produce virtuous, other-directed behavior than the massively-funded documentation shops of commercial software producers. Both the fetchmail and Linux kernel projects show that by properly rewarding the egos of many other hackers, a strong developer/coordinator can use the Internet to capture the benefits of having lots of co-developers without having a project collapse into a chaotic mess. So to Brooks’s Law I counter-propose the following: Provided the development coordinator has a communications medium at least as good as the Internet, and knows how to lead without coercion, many heads are inevitably better than one.
Eric S. Raymond (Cathedral and the Bazaar: Musings on Linux and Open Source by an Accidental Revolutionary)
Watch UFC 214: CORMIER VS JONES 2 Live Stream Online Now Watch UFC 214 Live Streaming Online in UFC 214 Live Stream - UFC 214 Live Stream Free - Home Ufc 214 Live Stream - ufc 214 live spilling free UFC 214 Live Streaming | Sports Entertainment | Martial Arts Watch UFC 214 Live Stream Online| Watch UFC 214 Live Stream | HD Coverage here: http:// www. hdtvlivestream. com/ufc-live-stream/?ref=ranuafrin UFC 214: Cormier versus Jones 2 is a forthcoming blended combative technique occasion to be held by the Ultimate Fighting Championship on July 29, 2017 at Honda Center in Anaheim, California. UFC 214 will be featured by light heavyweight champion Daniel Cormier going up against Jon Jones in a fight headliner. Watch UFC 214 Live Stream, begin time, PPV value, TV channel, prelims, battle card, chances Here's all the data you have to watch UFC 214 Live on TV from Honda Center in Anaheim, California Jul. 29, 2017. Watch UFC 214 Live Stream Online Now! A UFC Light Heavyweight Championship session between current champion Daniel Cormier and previous champion Jon Jones has been focused for this occasion. The blending met beforehand at UFC 182 in January 2015 with Jones guarding his title by means of consistent choice. Consequent to that triumph, Jones was stripped of the title and suspended uncertainly from the UFC regarding an attempt at manslaughter occurrence that he was included in. Cormier supplanted him and went ahead to vanquish Anthony Johnson at UFC 187 to win the empty title. Their rematch was initially anticipated that would happen at UFC 197, yet Cormier hauled out three weeks before the occasion because of damage and was supplanted by Ovince Saint Preux, in what turned into a between time title session. Jones went ahead to overcome Saint Preux by consistent choice and won the interval title. The battle was booked again and was required to feature UFC 200 in July of 2016. Be that as it may, Jones was hauled out of the battle by USADA because of a potential Anti-Doping Policy infringement coming from an out-of-rivalry test accumulation on June 16. Jones' "B" test additionally came positive for similar substances and Jones was suspended for one year, UFC 214 Live Stream retroactively to July 6, 2016. Battle Card: Light Heavyweight Daniel Cormier (c) versus Jon Jones Women's Featherweight Cristiane Justino versus Megan Anderson Featherweight Choi versus Andre Fili Featherweight Ricardo Lamas versus Jason Knight Bantamweight Aljamain Sterling versus Renan Barão Women's Strawweight Kailin Curran versus Alexandra Albu Lightweight Josh Burkman versus Drew Dober Heavyweight Dimitri Smoliakov versus Adam Wieczorek Flyweight Eric Shelton versus Jostled Brooks Light Heavyweight Jimi Manuwa versus Volkan Oezdemir Lightweight Sage Northcutt versus Claudio Puelles It's with substantial hearts that we transfer the news that Jon Jones' mom Camille has passed following a long battle with diabetes. Mike Winkeljohn is loving what he is seeing from Jon Jones, up until now, in front of the rematch with Daniel Cormier at UFC 214. UFC 214 Live Stream - UFC 214 Live Stream Free - Home Ufc 214 Live Stream - ufc 214 live spilling free UFC 214 Live Streaming | Sports Entertainment | Martial Arts Watch UFC 214 Live Stream Online| Watch UFC 214 Live Stream | UFC 214 Cormier versus Jones 2 Live on Pay-Per-View
UFC (UFC Official Fan's Guide)
Soccer is Italy’s favorite sport, and is played and watched all over the country. Each Sunday the great stadiums of Milan, Turin, Naples, Rome, and Bologna are filled with thousands of fans. Italian club soccer teams are among the best in the world, and regularly win international competitions. The national Italian team won soccer’s World Cup in 1982. Wages for successful players are high, and this helps to attract soccer stars from many other countries. Cycling also is very popular, as a sport to both do and watch. The Grand Tour of Italy takes place each year, following a long, grueling course over mountainous country. Many Italians forsake their favorite cafes to watch this bicycle race on television. Other popular pastimes include bowls, a game played on a sanded rink, and card games, commonly seen in cafes and bars across the nation. During August, many businesses close and workers go on vacation to the coast or mountains. The big cities are mostly deserted, except for tourists.
Marilyn Tolhurst (Italy (People & Places))
He felt that he had just quaffed an enchanted potion whose venom fanned flickering flames in his veins that burned away all sense of caution and for ever freed him of that restraint which his inner voice so often told him he must obey. Now he was once again that primeval being who knows only how to follow his instincts, the predator who seeks his mate and for whom no obstacle, law or convention will be allowed to obstruct the natural course of his desire, that animal in whom passion rages unchecked and who, if need be, will kill to achieve his object.
Miklós Bánffy (They Were Counted)
I have a very happy announcement to make,” he said, and the blood drained from Emma’s face. “Miss Emma Chalmers and I will be married before the summer’s out.” Emma sucked in her breath and closed her eyes as a murmur of speculation moved through the crowd. This was followed by a burst of somewhat hesitant applause, and while the women held back, fanning themselves, the men pushed forward to shake Fulton’s hand. Emma felt as though she might throw up. God knew, Fulton was used to getting his own way, no matter what objections might be raised, but this time he’d gone too far. He came to her like a conquering hero and steered her toward the door. “Come now, Emma, dear,” he said through his teeth, his hand tight on her elbow. “It’s time we were alone together.” Fury mingled with the bile burning the back of Emma’s throat. “You will go back up there, Mr. Whitney, and explain that you were only joking. There will be no wedding!” His fingers bit into her flesh, and again she saw that hostile wraith move in the depths of his eyes. “I’ve had one humiliation already today,” he said, pulling her along like a half-wit who couldn’t be expected to find her own way. “And I will not suffer another.” Emma
Linda Lael Miller (Emma And The Outlaw (Orphan Train, #2))
Forced by the Starr investigation, the president was to give testimony on the Paula Jones case any day now. Somehow Matt Drudge and his website received a leak. In response the president had signed a subpoenaed affidavit, legally sworn testimony denying any sexual relations with Paula Jones, the low-level Arkansas state employee who had accused him of sexual harassment, and more so, any relationship with Monica Lewinsky. He said they didn’t have any contact with each other, hadn’t even been alone in the same room together. He swore to it and said others could corroborate. Monica Lewinsky signed another affidavit. Ken Starr had been following the Clintons like a bloodhound. But at each turn of each scandal (Whitewater, Vince Foster’s suicide, Travelgate, Filegate, the affairs, the bribes, Troopergate, and more) it all came down to deny-deny-deny and the Clintons’ word against everyone else’s. Only this time, Clinton arrogantly denied his affair with Monica on a legal affidavit, sworn testimony. The shit was hitting the fan. Ken Starr now needed to prove Clinton was a liar—a perjurer. He needed evidence. Since they subpoenaed our logbook, I knew I was on Starr’s list. I couldn’t listen. I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t drive anymore. My partner asked me what was wrong. I can remember the feeling, my heart racing, my mind whirling, racked with pain, doubt, remorse, and regret. Oh my God, Starr, the Clintons, the Service, the FBI, the Justice Department, my friends, my family—no, not my friends and family—but everyone is going to implicate me, my integrity, my professionalism, my ethics, my foundation, my character. What about Genny and my unborn child? I didn’t sign up for this! We never signed up for this! Why did the Clintons have to do this to us? Haven’t I treated them well, done my best? They just couldn’t do the right thing! They couldn’t stop themselves!
Gary J. Byrne (Crisis of Character: A White House Secret Service Officer Discloses His Firsthand Experience with Hillary, Bill, and How They Operate)
The goal is for your fans and followers to have a consistent brand experience. Use the same logo, color palette, and fonts on every platform.
Michael Hyatt (Platform: Get Noticed in a Noisy World)
Bev made sure she served Wilson his standard tomato-and-grilled-cheese-with-french-fries personally, though Bev always called them chips, as if to make Wilson feel right at home. He thanked her and said everything looked absolutely “scrummy.” She giggled just like Chrissy used to do in history class. It was all I could do not to laugh right out loud. “I think Bev has a crush on you, Wilson. I know you're probably used to that by now. Don't you have a fan club at school? The 'I Heart Wilson' club, or something?” “Ha, ha, Blue. I have never been all that popular with the girls.” “Wilson. Don't be an idiot. You were all Manny could talk about the whole first month of school.” “Manny is not a girl,” Wilson remarked mildly. I snickered. “True. But I think I was the only one who wasn't following you around with my tongue hanging out. It was disgusting. Now even Bev has joined the club. I saw a bumper sticker on her car that said British Butts Drive Me Nuts.” Wilson choked on a mouthful of food, laughing, and grabbed at his lemonade to wash it down. I loved making him laugh, even if it was hazardous to his health.
Amy Harmon (A Different Blue)
Can we pause the bickering for more important matters, please? Look. There’s a time-out on the court.” Which meant more Coach Romano camera time. The three women focused on the TV. “OMG,” Sarah said, the slang usage obviously for Nic’s benefit. On the screen, the man in question had slipped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, and he was holding a basketball in a one-handed grip. “Look at the size of those hands.” Sage fanned her face. “Think of what he could do with them.” “At the risk of sounding crude, this is the first time in my life my boobs ever wished they were a basketball,” Nic observed. Out in the hallway, something heavy thumped to the floor. Nic recognized the voice that muttered the epithet that immediately followed. Gabe Callahan. She glanced in the wall mirror and smoothed her flyaway hair, catching Sarah’s knowing smirk as she did so. She stuck out her tongue at her best friend and sent up a little prayer that his hearing wasn’t all that sharp. “Gabe?” Sarah called out. “Everything all right?” Footsteps approached and he came into sight, pausing in the doorway. He wore a blue-and-gray plaid flannel shirt tucked into a snug pair of faded Levi’s. He had a stained and scruffy pair of lined leather work gloves tucked into a back pocket of his jeans, and his steel-toed boots showed plenty of wear. He might be stopping for dinner at the Bristlecone most nights these days, but he still hadn’t managed to find his way to the barbershop. His hair brushed his shoulders now, curling slightly on the ends. And dang it, her fingers itched to play with those thick silken strands. Until he turned a wickedly amused gaze her way and dashed her hopes about his hearing. “Sorry about the noise. That piece of lumber slipped right out of my hands. You know …” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I have to tell you that, while men are often accused of thinking with body parts other than their brains, this is the first time I’ve ever heard women admit they have parts that think for themselves, too.” He heard, all right. Nic closed her eyes and flushed with embarrassment. They not only think for themselves, they blush. Sage saved her by laughing. “You like basketball, Gabe?” “Not the same way you ladies do, apparently.
Emily March (Angel's Rest (Eternity Springs, #1))
A lot of people are fans of John 3:16, but they’re not such fans of the verse that comes 20 verses later: “Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life; whoever does not obey the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God remains on him” (John 3:36). It’s not merely enough that you know that Jesus Christ died for your sins. You must follow him. Remember, John 3:16 also says “whoever believes in him” will have eternal life. Believing in Christ means more than simply acknowledging that he is the Son of God. Even the demons do that (Mark 5:7). Believing in Jesus also means that you believe the words that he said and you obey them. Jesus said, “If you keep my commandments, you abide in my love, just as I have obeyed my Father’s commands and abide in his love” (John 15:10).
Gabriel Hughes (40 of the Most Popular Bible Verses and What They Really Mean)
You don’t write such tripe to the women you hope to interest, do you?” “I should hope not,” he responded indignantly. “Good God, I have much more originality. These men clearly aren’t thinking about how best they can interest you.” “What does that mean?” “Quite simply, you’re not the type to be wooed with poetry or false compliments.” “I’m not?” Now she was interested. “But I like poetry.” His reply brooked no rebuttal. “No, you don’t. Not like this. They haven’t got it right at all.” “Enlighten me, Lord Blackmoor, how should I be wooed, as you put it? I am intrigued by your obvious expertise.” He was quick to respond, “You’re too vibrant for them. Too strong. You have a sharp mind and an exciting personality and an unexpected sense of humor. If these men were half the man you deserve, they would have already recognized all those things and they would be romancing you accordingly. They would be working to intrigue and amuse and inspire you—just as you do them. And they would know that only when they have won your mind will they even have a chance at winning your heart.” The room felt much warmer all of a sudden, and Alex resisted the urge to fan herself, trying to ignore the rapid increase in her pulse as color flooded her cheeks. In the silence that followed his impassioned speech, Gavin stood and walked over to her. A cocky grin spread across his face. “That’s how I write to the women I hope to interest, Alex.” She attempted a cool response. “Perhaps…” Her voice caught and she cleared her throat, beginning anew. “Perhaps you should consider holding classes. I am acquainted with quite a few men who could do with some training. More than forty of them, it seems. Lord save me.” He
Sarah MacLean (The Season)
on the island where the drunken and brokenhearted typically washed ashore after a night of debauchery. A red-faced Swede at Le Select claimed to have bought Spider a Heineken that very morning. Someone else said he saw him stalking the beach at Colombier, and there was a report, never confirmed, of an inconsolable creature baying at the moon in the wilds of Toiny. The gendarmes faithfully followed each lead. Then they scoured the island from north to south, stem to stern, all to no avail. A few minutes after sundown, Reginald Ogilvy informed the crew of the Aurora that Spider Barnes had vanished and that a suitable replacement would have to be found in short order. The crew fanned out across the island, from the waterside eateries of Gustavia to the beach shacks of the Grand Cul-de-Sac. And by nine that evening, in the unlikeliest of places, they had found their man. He had arrived on the island at the height of hurricane season and settled into the clapboard cottage at the far end of the beach at Lorient. He had no possessions other than a canvas duffel bag, a stack of well-read books, a shortwave radio, and a rattletrap motor scooter that he’d acquired in Gustavia for a few grimy banknotes and a smile. The books were thick, weighty, and learned; the radio was of a quality
Daniel Silva (The English Spy (Gabriel Allon, #15))
A First Kiss from Vexing the Highlander by Terry Spear in Enchanting the Highlander: Feeling panicked, she was afraid she wouldn’t make it down the corridor to her room in time before she was caught. Alban must have assumed the same thing and suddenly moved her against the wall with his hot body pressing indecently close and held her hostage. “Forgive me,” he breathed against her cheek. And then he moved his warm lips against her mouth and kissed her. A lady with the right upbringing would never, ever kiss a gentleman—or an untitled Highlander—let alone do so in the king’s own castle when he planned to marry her off to one of his loyal lords. She would never have kissed Alban back—or so she told herself—except to pretend she was not who she was, rather just a servant girl having a good time with one of the king’s honored guests. Yet, she gave into the kiss as if she’d been trained in the art of kissing, which, with the way Alban was kissing her back, she found it easy to follow his lead. She soaked up the feel of his warm mouth against hers, and the smoldering flame that ignited low in her belly and fanned the heat all the way through her, despite the chill in the corridor. His chest pressed against her breasts, making them tingle with the most delicious need. His manhood stirred against her waist, and she realized why her mother had warned her and her sister never to kiss a gentleman in such a manner. Indeed, not until she was wed to him, for she felt urges she’d never known she could experience. Womanly urges that compelled her to take this further. She wrapped her arms around his neck, Alban’s mouth smiling slightly against her lips, as she pressed him tighter. She thought if he was as close as he could be, whoever was about to pass them by—hopefully without stopping to speak—would not see her, as tall as Alban was. Though she was hoping the Highlander would not presume she was always this forward with a man whether she knew him or not. Yet she was thrilled beyond measure to enjoy his attentions, even if it was just to keep her reputation intact. But if the man stopped to speak with Alban, and the Highlander quit kissing her to speak with the person in kind, her character would be in tatters. “Ahem,” the male said, but continued to walk on by. She didn’t dare glance in his direction to see if she knew the man. Alban didn’t either, but she wasn’t sure if it was because he was so wrapped up in kissing her, or because he was afraid to reveal who she was. If Alban hadn’t been holding her so close, she would have melted right into the stone floor, her body boneless. His breathing was as labored as hers, his heartbeat pounding just as fast. He didn’t make a move to release her, waiting while the footfalls faded away. He smelled of summer and the woods, of freshly-washed, earthy male. And then the footsteps were gone. Yet even then, Alban didn’t let her go. “Wait, just a moment more.
Terry Spear (Enchanting the Highlander)