Fendi Quotes

Eu não fendi o mundo mas sofri em razão de suas rupturas.

One dog got makeup applied to its face, lipstick and blue eye shadow. It was a white-faced dog, so the makeup showed up well. We liked to have an impact. When we were done, the lipstick went back into some mother's Fendi handbag. We watched her apply it, unaware. That was satisfying.

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hung her slim brown Fendi messenger bag on the shoulder of her designer suit,

Though dark, they could feel it, something behind them, chasing them, and it wasn’t going to stop. They heard it, the sound of it moving so fast that they worried their feet wouldn’t be able to run any faster.

He paused as he heard wailing floating outside. He pictured a frail woman in distress, but the person itself was nowhere to be seen. It faded after a minute as if it were just passing by.

He paused as he heard wailing floating outside. He pictured a frail woman in distress, but the person itself was nowhere to be seen. It faded after a minute as if it were just passing by.

Adli skimmed through the book and studied the letters smudged in dark brownish-red ink. “This isn’t what I think it is?” “Blood,” said Zurin as she picked out a bone from her fish. “How do you know?” asked Joe. “Come on,” she said. “No witch would write with a red pen just for the fun of it.” “So…it’s…blood,” said Adam. “Do I want to ask whose specifically?

The rims around her eyes burned red, glistening in the candlelight. Her dress was the only thing normal about her, black with flowery prints, but a closer look and you’d notice the frayed edges stopping at her ankles.

You got to face it,” Zurin told him. “He’s gone.” “He has to be here somewhere.” “You think all the people who encounter her survive?” She laughed bitterly. “For all we know he’s dead.” Joe scoffed. “Sweetheart, everybody thought you were dead.

Blood trickled onto her dress, but she didn’t mind. It took a while before her horrific appearance transformed into what it used to be. Her skin, though still pale, became smoother, every chapped corner fading away along with its veiny texture. It was all gone, disappearing with the pain.

The last thing she ate was a protein bar at six, right before she set out on the road. So when she saw a familiar red Proton Iswara driving forward she thought she was hallucinating, until it parked near the tent and out came Danial. Adira stood as he jogged forward. “What,” she began, “are you doing here?” “Looking for the best clubs in town.

When the tall one laughed the others echoed. He was caught off guard when Adira twisted his arm, causing him to scream. She twisted it again and brought him to the ground. “You know where she is, don’t you?” she said. “I thought cops weren’t supposed to harm people!” “Yeah, well, I’m not a cop.

A strange sound captured his full attention. It was faint, and he felt it odd, as though it didn’t belong in the music of the jungle. He looked at Fatin who was also trying to make sense of it. It drew closer until it was loud enough for them to hear, someone humming, a woman’s voice. It came nearer until it was right beside them. Aman had to make sure it wasn’t Fatin.

Aman folded his arms and stubbornly stood his ground. After a while, he finally sat down, but his scowl wouldn’t go away. “This is nice,” Adli murmured. “It’s kind of like having a picnic, you know? Speaking of picnics, I could really use a bowl of ais kacang right now. And nasi lemak. With chicken rendang. What about you guys? What do you want?” “Freedom,” Joe answered. “A cigarette,” Zurin replied.

Leaves travelled down to her head and lap. For a moment she felt relaxed until her nose caught an unbearable stench. Gagging, she glanced around. Branches creaked against each other above her as the wind grew stronger. She looked up at the tree. A pop of blue stuck out between the leaves, a pair of hands draped over long twisty branches.

You saw her, didn’t you?” Fatimah said. Adira felt her body freeze. She blinked, and for a second she saw the young woman on the street, long black hair, black dress. “The victims’ souls,” Fatimah went on, “are already hers once they step foot into her home.

Zurin…Zurin!” The longer time passed, the more troubled it sounded, like someone miserably shouting in pain. Then she saw it. Nadia by the trees. Nadia waving at her. “Over here!” Nadia called. Her voice was soft as a whisper, and though far away it sounded as if she were speaking right next to her.

He turned around, expecting to see Fatin. There was nothing but tall barks in his view. He walked further and about three minutes in he heard scuffling. He whirled around. “Fatin?” The owls answered instead. He scanned the trees, looking up, down and around. “Aman,” she whispered, but it wasn’t Fatin.

A soft humming flowed into the room. She stiffened. Laughter accompanied the song, a sweet little melody. Her chest stung like it had been punched. She coughed her throat dry until she tasted metal in her mouth. Drops of blood splattered onto the floor. She dropped to her knees and fell on her side. The light fixture on the ceiling was no more than a blurry image.

The door to Joe’s room slowly opened. It was dark inside, but the light from the corridor was enough to see a body hiding in the shadows. Anger bubbled up inside him. “Come out,” he ordered. She stood there, unmoving, with only her dirty feet showing in the light. “Come on!” he shouted. She stepped back, heading deeper into the shadows until she was no longer seen. He slammed the door wide open and turned on the light. The only thing he found was Joe’s bed, his guitar and a pile of dirty laundry on the floor.

Her body went still at the snapping of twigs. One snap, two snaps. She paid attention to the sound getting closer until it was directly behind her back. Three snaps. She looked to find Chinda in her tattered black dress.

and shopping at Zara instead of Fendi.

But then I thought about a conversation I’d had wit’ Kia. She had told me that she was at Spelman wit’ her cousin when you went for Open House. Now she never said her cousin’s name. Something tells me it’s that chick Fendi,

Hargailah jerih payah orang tuamu yang telah menyekolahkan kamu sampai seperti sekarang ini

Life goes on... Whether you choose to move on end take chance in the unknown. Or stay behind,locked in the past, thinking of what could've been.

The kingdom of Bosnia forms a division of the Ottoman empire, and is a key to the countries of Roumeli (or Romeli). Although its length and breadth be of unequal dimensions, yet it is not improper to say it is equal in climate to Misr and Sham (Egypt and Syria). Each one of its lofty mountains, exalted to Ayuk, (a bright red star that * The peace of Belgrade was signed on the first of September, 1739. By this peace the treaty of Passarowitz was nullified, and the rivers Danube, Save, and Una re-established, as the boundaries of the two empires. See note to page 1. always follows the Hyades,) is an eye-sore to a foe. By reason of this country's vicinity to the infidel nations, such as the deceitful Germans, Hungarians, Serbs (Sclavonians), the tribes of Croats, and the Venetians, strong and powerful, and furnished with abundance of cannon, muskets, and other weapons of destruction, it has had to carry on fierce war from time to time with one or other, or more, of these deceitful enemies—enemies accustomed to mischief, inured to deeds of violence, resembling wild mountaineers in asperity, and inflamed with the rage of seeking opportunities of putting their machinations into practice; but the inhabitants of Bosnia know this. The greater part of her peasants are strong, courageous, ardent, lion-hearted, professionally fond of war, and revengeful: if the enemy but only show himself in any quarter, they, never seeking any pretext for declining, hasten to the aid of each other. Though in general they are harmless, yet in conflict with an enemy they are particularly vehement and obstinate; in battle they are strong-hearted ; to high commands they are obedient, and submissive as sheep; they are free from injustice and wickedness; they commit no villany, and are never guilty of high-way robbery; and they are ready to sacrifice their lives in behalf of their religion and the emperor. This is an honour which the people of Bosnia have received as an inheritance from their forefathers, and which every parent bequeaths to his son at his death. By far the greater number of the inhabitants, but especially the warlike chiefs, capudans, and veterans of the borders, in order to mount and dismount without inconvenience, and to walk with greater freedom and agility, wear short and closely fitted garments: they wear the fur of the wolf and leopard about their shoulders, and eagles' wings in their caps, which are made of wolf-skins. The ornaments of their horses are wolf and bearskins: their weapons of defence are the sword, the javelin, the axe, the spear, pistols, and muskets : their cavalry are swift, and their foot nimble and quick. Thus dressed and accoutred they present a formidable appearance, and never fail to inspire their enemies with a dread of their valour and heroism. So much for the events which have taken place within so short a space of time.* It is not in our power to write and describe every thing connected with the war, or which came to pass during that eventful period. Let this suffice. * It will be seen by the dates given in page 1, that the war lasted about two years and five months. Prepared and printed from the rare and valuable collection of Omer EfFendi of Novi, a native of Bosnia, by Ibrahim.* * This Ibrahim was called Basmajee^ the printer. He is mentioned in history as a renegado, and to have been associated with the son of Mehemet Effendi, the negotiator of the peace of Paasarowitz, and who was, in 1721, deputed on a special em-, bassy to Louis XV. Seyd Effendi, who introduced the art of printing into Turkey. Ibrahim, under the auspices of the government, and by the munificence of Seyd Effendi aiding his labours^ succeeded in sending from the newly instituted presses several works, besides the Account of the War in Bosnia.

Terkadang, ada sesuatu di luar kendali kita sehingga kita harus kecewa.

Life is a mixture of e.g. – "E"xperiments which one attempts voluntarily to escape from status quo for better; "G"ames where one strategizes cooperatively or competitively.