Fo Quotes

Most people in Atlanta don't have an accent. It's pretty urban. A lot of people speak gangsta, though," I add jokingly. "Fo' shiz," he replies in his polite English accent. I spurt orangey-red soup across the table. St. Clair gives a surprised ha-HA kind of laugh, and I'm laughing too, the painful kind like abdominal crunches. He hands me a napkin to wipe my chin. "Fo'. Shiz." He repeats it solemnly. Cough cough. "Please don't ever stop saying that. It's too-" I gasp. "Much." "You oughtn't to have said that. Now I shall have to save it for special occasions." "My birthday is in February." Cough choke wheeze. "Please don't forget.

I want to keep walking away from the person I was a moment ago, because a mind was made fo figure things out, not to read the same page recurrently.

Fee-fi-fo-fum - Now I'm borrowed. Now I'm numb.

Please welcome Professor Varen Nethers, famous depressed dead poets historian and author of the bestselling books Unlocking your Poe-tential: A Writer's Guide, and Mo Poe Fo Yo: When You Just Can't Get Enough.

What is the cause of historical events? Power. What is power? Power is the sum total of wills transferred to one person. On what condition are the willso fo the masses transferred to one person? On condition that the person express the will of the whole people. That is, power is power. That is, power is a word the meaning of which we do not understand.

Fo' shiz.

And Caroline? Speaking fo thin walls?" he said, as he opened his door and looked back at me. He leaned in his own doorway, thumping his fist on the wall. "Yes?" I asked a little too dreamily for my own good. His smirk reappeared and he said, "Sweet dreams". He thumped the wall one more time, winked, and went inside. Huh. Sweet dreams and thin walls. Sweet dreams and thin walls... Mother of pearl. He'd heard me...

Oh, be quiet, Fo-Fo.

I jammed my hand in my jacket pocket, bracing myself fo the next hit, and fel something. Something grainy and samll, sticking to the tips of my fingers: the sand from Commons Park. Oh Cass, I thought. I miss you so, so much.

We've made a beautiful mess of things lately, haven't we?" He flashed that sexy crooked smile at me, which made my heart flutter. "But it's our crazy story," "It's been ours, only ours. There's been a lot of romance, sometimes way too much drama..." "very memorable comedy, a few pulse-racing action scenes..." "We've also had our fair share of suspense and raw terror, and unfortunately gut-wrenching heartache too." "I think we've covered it all, everything except fo being captured by aliens!" "But through it all you've loved me unconditionally, and I know how fortunate I am to have your love. I don't want to live without you, not for one more minute, not for one more second. I want to spend the rest of my days living my story with you...only you." "It is here that I fell in love with you" "And as fate would have it, it is here that I humbly kneel before you and ask you to be my wife.

He that hath truth on his side is a fool as well as a coward if he is afraid to own it because fo other mens's opinions.

Fo' Gawd, Miss Scarlett! We's got ter have a doctah. Ah- Ah- Miss Scarlett, Ah doan know nuthin' 'bout bringin' babies. -Prissy

In books lies the soul fo the whole past time.

A theatre, a literature, an artistic expression that does not speak for its own time has no relevance.

Once, long ago, Parminder had told Barry the story of Bhai Kanhaiya, the Sikh hero who had administered to the needs of those wounded in combat, whether friend or fo. When asked why he gave aid indiscriminately, Bahai Kanhaiya had replied that the light of God shone from every soul, and that he had been unable to distinguish between them.

And I ask him why he cuts his arms with a razor. "Just fo feel. Just to feel something.

There are people who can never go to Fantastica," said Mr. Coreander, "and others who can, but who stay there forever. And there are just a few who fo to fantastica and come back. Like you. And they make both world well again.

Anna anna bo banna, banana fanna fo fanna, me my mo manna...Anna." "Chuck! Do Chuck!

Know how to live the time that is given you.

My dad once told me that Winstone Churchill said that Russia was riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. According to my dad, Churchill had been talking about my mother. This was before the divorce, and he said it half-bitterly, half-respectfully. Because even when he hated her, he admired her. I think he would have stayed with her forever, trying to figure out the mystery. He was a puzzle solver, the kind of person who likes theorems, theories. X always had to equal something. It couldn't just be X. To me, my mother wasn't that mysterious. She was my mother. Always reasonable, always sure of herself. To me, she was about as mysterious as a glass fo water. She knew what she wanted; she knew what she didn't want. And that was to be married to my father. I wasn't sure if it was that she fell our of love or if it was that she just never was. in love, I mean.

The voice was filled with thousand midnights, darkness and starlight wrapped so tightly they were bound fo all eternity.

Many people keep deploring the low level of formal education in the United states (as defined by, say, math grades). Yet these fail to realize that the new comes from here and gets imitated elsewhere. And it is not thanks to universities, which obviously claim a lot more credit than their accomplishments warrant. Like Britain in the Industrial Revolution, America's asset is, simply, risk taking and the use of optionality, this remarkable ability to engage in rational forms fo trial and error, with no comparative shame in failing again, starting again, and repeating failure.

Juliette" I inhale too quickly. A stifled cough is balloning in my throat. His glassy green eyes glint in my direction. "Are you not hungry?" "No, thank you." He licks his bottom lip into a smile. "Don't confuse stupidity for bravery, love. I know you haven't eaten anything in days." Something in my patioence snaps. "I'd rather die than eat your food and listen to you call me love," I tell him. Adam drops his fork. Warner spares him a swift glance and when he looks at my way again his eyes have hardened. He holds my gaze fo a few infinitely long seconds before he pulls a gun out of his jacket pocket. He fires.

أنا لا أهتم بالسياسة قدر اهتمامي بالعدالة

Fee-fi-fo-fum, now I'm borrowed, now I'm numb.

Then you'd better listen, because me sounding like Bronte is one of the signs of the apocalypse-and if the end fo the world is coming, good deeds could earn you Judgment day brownie points.

Let us look at wealth and poverty. The affluent society and the deprived society inter-are. The wealth of one society is made of the poverty of the other. "This is like this, because that is like that." Wealth is made of non-wealth elements, and poverty is made by non-poverty elements. [...] so we must be careful not to imprison ourselves in concepts. The truth is that everything contains everything else. We cannot just be, we can only inter-be. We are responsible fo everything that happens around us.

Our homeland is the whole world. Our law is liberty. We have but one thought, revolution in our hearts.

FoMO—the fear of missing out.

Boğazımıza kadar bok içindeyiz, bu doğru ve işte bu nedenle başımız dimdik yürüyoruz!

I’s been livin’ a long time in yesterday, Sandy chile, an’ I knows there ain’t no room in de world fo’ nothin’ mo’n love. I know, chile! Ever’thing there is but lovin’ leaves a rust on yo’ soul. An’ to love sho ‘nough, you got to have a spot in yo’ heart fo’ ever’body – great an’ small, white an’ black, an’ them what’s good an’ them what’s evil – ‘cause love ain’t got no crowded-out places where de good ones stay an’ de bad ones can’t come in. When it gets that way, then it ain’t love.

When you´re at the point you feel you have nothing to live or thrive fo, be like a camera, use your negatives to develop

I Love you long before you came into my life. When you bumped into me, my body recognized yours. When you looked fo safety in my arms, my heart knew you were the one

People fall down. You can either laugh or cry. Laughing makes it easier fo' get back up, though.

You call forth the world which God has formed and that world only. Nor is this life of yours by which you set such store your doing, however you may choose to tell it. Its shape was forced in the void at the onset and all talk of what might otherwise have been is senseless for there is no otherwise. Of what could it be made? Where be hid? Or how make its appearance? The probability fo the actual is absolute. That we have no power to guess it out beforehand makes it no less certain. That we may imagine alternate histories means nothing at all.

There is no greater equaliser than the stupidity of men, especially when those men have power.

Now the red eyes and the light above seemed to bore into Charles, and again the pupils fo the little boy's eyes contracted. When the final point of black was lost in blue he turned away from the red eyes, looked at Meg, and smiled sweetly, but the smile was not Charles Wallaces smile.

Besides, I don’t take issue with the term as much as the fact that you feel you can judge me. I despise judgmental people.” “As do most creatures who deserve to be judged.” “You got me. I’m a ho fo sho.” -What did that mean?- “You speak like a human.” She nodded, as if that hadn’t been an insult as well. “I watch a lot of TV.

I hate this fear. I hate this. I hate this world. I hate it that nobody needs me. I don’t own this world. I’ve had enough. It’s not supposed to be my fault. Only now.. Only now that I realized.. I hate this world now, living in this world where ‘promise’, ‘bond’ and ‘eternity’ don’t exist, and living in a world full fo strangers is a very, very scary thing. Scared that there’s no guarantee that I’ll be loved. You can’t be living with people surrounding you forever. You just cant. The world is too scary. - Akito

The water is speaking in a language I knew before the world taught me its language. I lie there and I let the sound of the surf massage my soul fo two hours. I let it speak to me and I do not speak back. I just receive. I understand with great gratitude that i could rest here forever, offer the sea nothing in return, and it would never stop speaking to me. The surf is gentle and selfless and steady. This is not a transaction, it is a gift.

Steeple, people, banana-fana-fo-feeple. What the fuck ever. If you don't loosen up, lady, I'll drop your ass on it.

When things are beyond your control and there is nothing you can fo,why worry?

At the door fo the dining-room he left us. 'Good night, Mr Jorkins,' he said. 'I hope you will pay us another visit when you next "cross the herring pond".' 'I say, what did your governor mean by that? He seemed almost to think I was American.' 'He's rather odd at times.

Alignment begins with a constituency of one. These are the individuals whose substance is real, pure and nonnegotiable. They share their vulnerabilities and fears in complement to their strengths. They are comfortable weaving all parts of their lives together in an integrated way. Our level of effectiveness, contribution and integrity of work and life are in direct correlation with our level of integration, self-actualization and total alignment fo body, mind and spirit.

Women are prepared to suffer for love; it's written into their birth certificates. Women are not prepared to have "everything," not success-type "everything." I mean, not when the "everything" isn't about living happily ever after with the prince (where even if it falls through and the prince runs away with the baby-sitter, there at least a precedent). There's no precedent for women getting their own "everything" and learning that it's not the answer. Especially when you got fame, money, and love by belting out how sad and lonely and beaten you were. Which is only a darker version fo the Hollywood "everything" in which the more vulnerability and ineptness you project onto the screen, the more fame, money, and love they load you with. They'll only give you "everything" if you appear to be totally confused. Which leaves you with very few friends.

To the winter forest And nowhere to go This girl runs From all she knows The pressure rises to the top The pressure rises (it won't stop) They want your body They want your soul They want fake smiles That's rock and roll The wolves surrond you A fever dream The wolves surrond you So start the scream Howl, into the night, Howl, until the light, Howl, your turn to fight, Howl, just make it right Howl howl howl howl (Motherfucker) You can't fight fo ever You have to comply If your life isn't working You have to ask why Remember When we were young enough Not to fear tomorrow Or mourn yesterday And we were just Us And time was just Now And we were in Life Not rising through Like arms in a sleeve Because we had time We had time to breathe The bad times are here The bad times have come but life can't be over When it hasn't begun The lake shines and the water's cold All that glitters can turn to gold Silence the music to improve the tune Stop the fake smiles and howl at the moon Howl, into the night, Howl, until the light, Howl, your turn to fight, Howl, just make it right Howl howl howl howl

I was one sexy, cardigan-clad HoMoFo.

THESEUS FEE! FI! FO! FUM! LOOK OUT, HORNHEAD! HERE I COME!

I found out that the giant’s famous chant—Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman—was cribbed from King Lear, where a character named Edgar says, Child Roland to the dark tower came, His word was still Fie, foh, and fum, I smell the blood of a British man.

Sacrifice! What do I sacrifice? Famine fo food, expectation for content. To be privileged to put my arms round what I value -- to press my lips to what I love -- to repose on what I trust: is that to make a sacrifice? If so, then certainly I delight in sacrifice." - Jane

She was still doing forty knots, driving in under the guns of the enemy, guns at maximum depression, when "A" magazine blew up, blasted off the entire bows in one shattering detonations. For a second, the lightened fo'c'sle reared high into the air" then it plunged down, deep down, into the shoulder of a rolling sea. She plunged down and kept on going down, driving down to the black floor of the Arctic, driven down by the madly spinning screws. The still thundering engines her own executioners.

Now look here, Smithers. They's two kind's of stealing. They's the small kind, like what you does, and the big kind, like I does. Fo' de small stealing dey put you in jail soon or late. But fo' de big stealin' dey puts your picture in de paper and yo' statue in de Hall of Fame when you croak. If dey's one thing I learned in ten years on de Pullman cars, listenin' to de white quality talk, it's dat same fact. And when I gits a chance to use it . . . from stowaway to emperor in two years. Dat's goin' some!

- Choose a wish , Find a dream , Pick a wishing star , Let you hopes and freedoms sore high and free and far , Just believe in the impossible then work and try to do ; fo only those who dare to dream , Can make a dream come true.

A baby is such a blank slate, like training the understudy fo a role you're planning to leave.You truly hope your replacement will do the play justice, but in secret, you want future critics to say you played the character better.

People of civilized countenance made much of exposing the soft underbellies of their psyche - effete and sensitive were the brands of finer breeding. It was easy for them, safe, and that was the whole point, after all: a statement of coddled opulence that burned the throats of the poor more than any ostentatious show of wealth.

Dont act like you are walking around with a Tshirt that says "I give Up!" on the front and on the back saying "I never started trying!" People can bring you down, situations happen, YOU can feel like Life is the shittiest thing to deal with. BLAH BLAH BLAH.. If you're walking through Hell, keep going! Everyday there's a new challenge. Face it! Deal with it! Move on! To every problem there is a solution or a way around it.. Stop being a sour mongral and think life owes you something.. No one will do anything for you these days. Start fighting. Get rid of ALL the shit people in your Life. Grow some balls of steel and work progressively through everything. Step by Step or what ever mad method you have to get you back in line again. Who cares, if people don't like you, BURN that mother of a bridge down. It was never meant to be.. Build New ones! Many roads to cross and new paths on life to Explore.. It starts with YOU.. And if people want to judge you, tell them to F/O and look in the mirror. Time for a new game.. It's called "Take over the World" WHOOOP WHOOOP!!

I'm sorry," Bowen says I look up at him."No.It's my fault for being stupid. I shouldn't have used the glass-" "Fo," Bowen snaps, silencing me. "I'm not sorry the coagulant hurt your hand. You totally deserved it. But I'm sorry about what I said. About being stuck with you." Sunshine spreads through my body.I sit up and beam at him."Really?" "Yeah.Really. Aside from you being my potential-and most likely, terrible painful-death, you're not that bad." He smiles and I feel like I could float away.

You might be able to send some girls screaming and crying with that ‘I’m a happy little sadist' act but I’m not some girls Rourke. I hope your King finds you with your hands all over me. I hope he pulls his fee-fi-fo-fum trick of his and melts your bones too.

Commala-come-come There’s a young man with a gun. Young man lost his honey When she took it on the run. Commala-come-one! She took it on the run! Left her baby lonely But he baby ain’t done. Commala-come-coo The wind’ll blow ya through. Ya gotta go where ka’s wind blows ya Cause there’s nothin else to do. Commala-come-two! Nothin else to do! Gotta go where ka’s wind blows ya Cause there’s nothin else to do. Commala-come-key Can you tell me what ya see? Is it ghosts or just the mirror That makes ya wanna flee? Commala-come-three! I beg ya, tell me! Is it ghosts or just your darker self That makes ya wanna flee? Commala-come-ko Whatcha doin at my do’? If ya doan tell me now, my friend I’ll lay ya on de flo’. Commala-come-fo’! I can lay ya low! The things I’ve do to such as you You never wanna know. Commala-gin-jive Ain’t it grand to be alive? To look out on Discordia When the Demon Moon arrives. Commala-come-five! Even when the shadows rise! To see the world and walk the world Makes ya glad to be alive. Commala-mox-nix! You’re in a nasty fix! To take a hand in traitor’s glove Is to grasp a sheaf of sticks! Commala-come-six! Nothing there but thorns and sticks! When your find your hand in traitor’s glove You’re in a nasty fix. Commala-loaf-leaven! They go to hell or up to heaven! The the guns are shot and the fires hot, You got to poke em in the oven. Commala-come-seven! Salt and yow’ for leaven! Heat em up and knock em down And poke em in the oven. Commala-ka-kate You’re in the hands of fate. No matter if it’s real or not, The hour groweth late. Commala-come-eight! The hour groweth late! No matter what shade ya cast You’re in the hands of fate. Commala-me-mine You have to walk the line. When you finally get the thing you need It makes you feel so fine. Commala-come-nine! It makes ya feel fine! But if you’d have the thing you need You have to walk the line. Commala-come-ken It’s the other one again. You may know her name and face But that don’t make her your friend. Commala-come-ten! She is not your friend! If you let her get too close She’ll cut you up again! Commala-come-call We hail the one who made us all, Who made the men and made the maids, Who made the great and small. Commala-come-call! He made us great and small! And yet how great the hand of fate That rules us one and all. Commala-come-ki, There’s a time to live and one to die. With your back against the final wall Ya gotta let the bullets fly. Commala-come-ki! Let the bullets fly! Don’t ‘ee mourn for me, my lads When it comes my day to die. Commala-come-kass! The child has come at last! Sing your song, O sing it well, The child has come to pass. Commala-come-kass, The worst has come to pass. The Tower trembles on its ground; The child has come at last. Commala-come-come, The battle’s now begun! And all the foes of men and rose Rise with the setting sun.

I 'uz mos' to de foot er de islan' b'fo' I found' a good place. I went into de woods en jedged I wouldn' fool wid raffs no mo', long as dey move de lantern roun' so. I had my pipe en a plug er dog-leg, en some matches in my cap, en dey warn't wet, so I 'uz all right.

[Julie] had lived a great deal among lies, before plumping for a small life of her own, a sincere and restricted life from which all pretense, even in matters sensual, was banished. How many crazy decisions and allegiances to successive aspects fo the truth! Had she not, one day when her costume for a fancy dress had demanded short hair, cut off the great chestnut mane that fell below her waist when she let it down? 'I could have hired a wig,' she thought. 'I might also, at a pinch, have passed the rest of my life with Becker or Espivant. If it comes to that, I could also have gone on stirring puddings in a saucepan at Carneilhan. The things "one might have done" are, in fact, the things one could not do...

Now get out of my way, or finish life as a pile of cinders.

You have told me your history, but speak little fo teh present. Why's that - Sabine Strohem

Fo'. Shiz.

I just let it be hard while it is hard without going crazy fo it to get easy.

I was poised, fo­cused, and alert. Two hours lat­er, I was bored, sleepy, and yawn­ing.

El mas habil explicador de cosas inexplicables no entenderia lo que quieres decir Habla con mas claridad ¿de que se trata? -Wang respondiendo a Kin-fo

Happiness lay scattered across the universe, unrealised, in fragments, waiting fo the right twist of fate to bring it together

Fo each weakness there is a corresponding strength.

Dizzle fo shizzle mah nizzle fo rizzle

You cannot change what's written in the stars. Liar! Later, much later, I would come to this realisation: nothing is written. If it were, there would be no need fo trials, morality would be an ageing hag and shame would not blush in the presence of vertue. Though there are things beyond our understaning, for the most part we are the architects of our own unhappiness.

Big Jim used to tell me that "money talks," but this stash was mighty silent. I suspect this is one of those MoFo expressions meant to confuse, like when I wasted an entire afternoon searching the yard for an ax and a body because Big Jim said he's buried the hatchet with his friend Mike.

And when white men in they hate an’ wrath an’ meanness fetches blood from that beautiful black skin then, oh then, my brothers, it is time not fo’ laughing but fo’ weeping an’ rage an’ lamentation! Pride!” I cried after a pause, and let my arms descend. “Pride, pride, everlasting pride, pride will make you free!

GIOVANNI: But not all policeman think like you. Some of them like being policeman. SARGENT: Sure, some guys buy into it. They get off giving orders. They need to oppress somebody else to feel good about themselves.

The book was commonly known as the Buggre Alle This Bible. The lengthy compositor's error, if such it may be called, occurs in the book of Ezekiel, chapter 48, verse five. 2. And bye the border of Dan, fromme the east side fo the west side, a portion for Afher. 3. And by the border of Afher, fromme the east side even untoe the west side, a portion for Naphtali. 4. And by the border of Naphtali, from the east side untoe the west side, a portion for Manaffeh. 5. Buggre Alle this for a Larke. I amme sick to mye Hart of typefettinge. Master Biltonn if no Gentelmann, and Master Scagges noe more than a tighte fisted Southwarke Knobbefticke. I telle you, onne a daye laike thif Ennywone withe half and oz of Sense shoulde bee oute in the Sunneshain, ane nott Stucke here alle the liuelong daie inn thif mowldey olde By-Our-Lady Workefhoppe. @ *"Æ@;!* 6. And bye the border of Ephraim, from the east fide even untoe the west fide, a portion for Reuben.* * The Buggre Alle This Bible was also noteworthy for having twenty-seven verses in the third chapter of Genesis, instead of the more usual twenty-four. They followed verse 24, which in the King James version reads: "So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life," and read: 25 And the Lord spake unto the Angel that guarded the eastern gate, saying Where is the flaming sword which was given unto thee? 26 And the Angel said, I had it here only a moment ago, I must have put it down some where, forget my head next. 27 And the Lord did not ask him again.

Addiction to an electronic world caused the downfall of the MoFos. They’d forgotten to connect with each other, to connect with the creatures who missed them and to Nature as She called for them to come home. The crow part of me knew not to dwell on what was, but the MoFo part of me would always carry my best friend in my heart. Because we never give up on anything, especially love, and that’s the very, very best thing about being a MoFo.

Philosophy, then, is that thinkins with which one can start nothing and about which housemaids necessarily laugh. Such a definition of philosophy is not a mere joke but is something to think over. We shall fo well to remember occasionally that by our strolling we can fall into a well whereby we may not reach ground for quite some time.

She hides her tears from the world. "It will only make you weaker" she tells herself. That's what she has been holding onto. Thats what was keeping her upright. Until she snapped.

Tell me what you know of my kinfolk. "Fee, fi, fo, fum?" Oxton muttered under his breath. Vanora raised her hand. "I've heard something about a beanstalk and a cow." The giant gave a great nod. "We've well established you know absolutely nothing of my kind.

I've tried to teach what I learned all those years in my mother and father's house, all those things I didn't realize I was learning and that I never knew I'd be so grateful for. When you have love and it's proffered every day in a kind of tender, yet stern insistence and even reckless laughter, when it is given to you and you accept it in life as a thing as natural as rain or snow, or the littler of leaves in fall, you can't help but take it for granted. For a bewildered while you incorrectly understand that the world has given you this becuase it's there in equal measure, everywhere. You never knowuntil it's too late to do anything about it, how seet the effort is: how lasting the human will to love can be in the breast of people who want to make it for you, who want to give it to you, without calculating what's in it fo them, without thinking at all of what it will mean when you grow to full adulthood, see the world as it is, and forget to mention what you have been given. Ever day of my grown-up life, I have wanted to do what my parents did. I have wanted to widen the province of love and weaken hate and bitterness in the hearts of my children. And I've done these things because of what I got from my family, all those lovely years when I was growing up, being loved and cherished and, unbeknown to me, and in the best way, honored, for myself.

I could have taken you to the lab right now and been done with you.Now I have to babysit you until Sunday." He shakes his head and pushes past me, grumbling under his breath. "Gee, thanks. But you're the worst babysitter in the history of the world, Dreyden. Babysitters are supposed to be fun," I say to his back, and then stick out my tongue. Very thirteen-year old. He turns and strides up to me, eyes full of fire, not stopping until our noses touch. I gulp and force myself not to step back. "Nothing about life is fum anymore, Fo," he says. And then he leaves, feet thumping sown the stairs.

Do you mean disrespectful? Blasphemous?" he asks. " Like Jesus, Jesus, bo-beesus, banana fanana fo-feesus, mo meesus...blasphemous to Jesus?" I just stand there like an idiot, not sure what to say to this strange man. He seems more of a wise guy than a wise man. After all, he just Name-Gamed a Third of the Trinity.

Rachel barely noticed any of it, and not just because she was insulated by the press of bodies on every side fo her. She paid little mind to the deck buckling beneath her like a maddened mule, or even to the stink of feces and urine that the exiles were forced to void where they sat. She was simply numb, her mind having absorbed all the fear it could, like a sponge saturated with water: after a while the fear became a constant, cold companion, a simple fact of existence.

But like all beautiful faces Emily's made you believe that its possessor was a better person than she was. It allowed her to pass for stoical when she was petrified, and mysterious and aloof when she was so filled with self-doubt that she bought presents for other people when it was her birthday, framed most of her conversation in terms of apology and regret, and for all her talent could no longer manage to string twenty-five paragraphs fo prose together to make a short story.

The ideal of the 11th/17th century physicists was to be able to explain all physical reality in terms of the movement of atoms. This idea was extended by people like Descartes who saw the human body itself as nothing but a machine. Chemists tried to study chemical reaction in this light and reduce chemistry to a form of physics, and biologists tried to reduce their science to simply chemical reactions and then finally to the movement of physical particles. The idea of reductionsm which is innate to modern science and which was only fortified by the tehory of evolution could be described as the reduction fo the spirit to the psyche, the psyche to biological activity, life to lifeless matter and lifeless matter to purely quantitative particles or bundles of energy whose movements can be measured and quantified.

Why the devil couldn’t it have been blue?” I said to myself. And this thought—one of the most profound ever made since the discovery of butterflies—consoled me for my misdeed and reconciled me with myself. I stood there, looking at the corpse with, I confess, a certain sympathy. The butterfly had probably come out of the woods, well-fed and happy, into the sunlight of a beautiful morning. Modest in its demands on life, it had been content to fly about and exhibit its special beauty under the vast cupola of a blue sky, al sky that is always blue for those that have wings. It flew through my open window, entered by room, and found me there. I suppose it had never seen a man; therefore it did not know what a man was. It described an infinite number of circles about my body and saw that I moved, that I had eyes, arms, legs, a divine aspect, and colossal stature. Then it said to itself, “This is probably the maker of butterflies.” The idea overwhelmed it, terrified it; but fear, which is sometimes stimulating, suggested the best way for it to please its creator was to kiss him on the forehead, and so it kissed me on the forehead. When I brushed it away, it rested on the windowpane, saw from there the portrait of my father, and quite possibly perceived a half-truth, i.e., that the man in the picture was the father of the creator of butterflies, and it flew to beg his mercy. Then a blow from a towel ended the adventure. Neither the blue sky’s immensity, nor the flowers’ joy, nor the green leaves’ splendor could protect the creature against a face towel, a few square inches fo cheap linin. Note how excellent it is to be superior to butterflies! For, even if it had been blue, its life would not have been safe; I might have pierced it with a pin and kept it to delight my eyes. It was not blue. This last thought consoled me again. I placed the nail of my middle finger against my thumb, gave the cadaver a flip, and it fell into the garden. It was high time; the provident ants were already gathering around…Yes, I stand by my first idea: I think that it would have been better for the butterfly if it had been born blue.

The first commendment of hte post 1970s meritocracy can be sumed up as follows: "Thou shall provide equality of opportunity to all, regardless of race, gender, or sexual oritentation, but worry not about equality of outcomes." But what we've seen time and time again is that the two aren't so neatly separated. If you don't concern yourself at all with equality fo outcomes, you will, over time, produce a system with horrendous inequality of opportunity. This is the paradox of meritocracy: It can only truly come to flower in a society that starts out with a relatively high degree of equality. So if you want meritocracy, work for equality. Because it is only in a society which values equality of actual outcomes, one that promotes the commonweal and social solidarity, that equal opportunity and earned mobility can flourish.

A little sadness is good for everyone. It's da only way ya gets to happiness. If you happy all da time, you gots nuttin' to compare it wit. No, sorrow is a gift, Charlotte. You takes it, you tip your hat to it, an' den ya moves on. But ya gots to acknoledge it or else it will have ya fo breakfast. Give sadness its due and move on.

It can remind you of the bias of provincial New England, whose higher culture has been so exclusively one of books that it has grown incapable even of appraising the worth of other modes of expression

I believe that the four elements and the psychological handicaps that they create are the real secret behind the "four princes " described in The Abramelin. Each of the fo ur ancient elements has a positive psycho­ logical potential as well . The earth element can allow mechan­ical dexterity, and the enjoyment of physical affection. Water can provide intuition. Air can provide logic and problem­ solving skill s. Fire can produce the ability to make decisions,and carry through with them. Even if you already experience these things in some degree or another, they are somewhat repressed by self- doubt and anxiety. Once you have attained the Knowledge and Conversation of your Holy Guardian Angel, you will have the ability to be the master of all of these elements, and that will be the beginning of true magi­ cal ability.

]9F}O}238DUW7F)7K@9~VET - 복사본 제품명: 삼오주석산졸피뎀 전문/일반: 원료 제조 및 수입원: 삼오제약 판매 회사: 삼오제약 복지부 분류: 719 – 기타의 조제용약 보험코드/구분: 영문 성분명: 한글 성분명: 생산여부: 생산 산도스 졸피뎀”구입상담문의” 효능/효과: 용법/용량: ^^바로구입가기^^ ↓↓아래 이미지 사이트 클릭↓↓ ★카톡:kodak8★텔레그램:Komen68★ 444595_540 사용상 주의사항: 1. 의약품 조제 또는 제조용으로만 사용한다. 2. 단일제의 사용예가 있는 경우 단일제 “사용상의 주의사항”을 참조한다. 3. 보관 및 취급상의 주의사항 1) 온도, 햇볕, 습도 등에 관하여 주의하여 보관한다. 2) 원래 용기에서 꺼내어 다른 용기에 보관하는 것은 오용에 의한 사고발생이나 의약품 품질저하의 원인이 될 수 있으므로 원래 용기에 넣고 꼭 닫아 보관한다. 저장방법: 밀폐용기, 실온보관(1~30℃)

The Place Faidherbe had the characteristic atmosphere, the overdone décor, the floral and verbal excess, of a subprefecture in southern France gone mad. The ten cars left the Place Faidherbe only to come back five minutes later, having once more completed the same circuit with their cargo of anemic Europeans, dressed in unbleached linen, fragile creatures as wobbly as melting sherbet. For weeks and years these colonials passed the same forms and faces until they were so sick of hating them that they didn’t even look at one another. The officers now and then would take their families out for a walk, paying close attention to military salutes and civilian greetings, the wives swaddled in their special sanitary napkins, the children, unbearably plump European maggots, wilted by the heat and constant diarrhea. To command, you need more than a kepi; you also need troops. In the climate of Fort-Gono the European cadres melted faster than butter. A battalion was like a lump of sugar in your coffee; the longer you looked the less you saw. Most of the white conscripts were permanently in the hospital, sleeping off their malaria, riddled with parasites made to order fo every nook and cranny of the body, whole squads stretched out flat between cigarettes and flies, masturbating under moldy sheets, spinning endless yarns between fits of painstakingly provoked and coddled fever.

There was something oddly soothing about working out while the rest of the world was aslep. I slipped in, scanned my membership card, and untangled my headphones from around my iPod. On the most stressful days, I hit the treadmill and ran fo three or four miles. Other days, I did the elliptical or the bike. As long as I was moving, my heart pumping for reasons I could understand, I felt better. So much so that, once all the applications were in and I started sleeping through the night more regularly, I still dragged myself out of bed to work out a couple mornings a week.

I don't believe that eating from the Tree of Knowledge was sinful. I believe it was one of the bravest and most liberating events in the history of the human race. Yes, its consequences were painful, in the same way that growing up and leaving your parental home can be painful, in the same way that undertaking the responsibilities of marriage and parenthood can be painful and leave you wondering, 'Why did I ever give up my less-complicated life for these problems?' But fo rate person who has experienced the complex, hard-earned satisfactions of human existence, there in no doubt that it is worth the pain

Fo Black lives on Canal Street, which used to be a real canal. He didn't speak very good English, because he hadn't left Chinatown since he came from Taiwan, because there was no reason for him to. The whole time I talked to him I imagined water on the other side of the window, like we were in an aquarium. He offered me a cup of tea, but I didn't feel like it, but I drank it anyway, to be polite. I asked him did he really love New York or was he just wearing the shirt. He smiles, like he was nervous. I could tell he didn't understand, which made me feel guilty for speaking English, for some reason. I pointed at his shirt. "Do? You? Really? Love? New? York?" He said, "New York?" I said, "Your. Shirt." He looked at his shirt. I pointed at the N and said "New," and the Y and said "York." He looked confused, or embarrassed, or surprised, or maybe even made. I couldn't tell what he was feeling, because I couldn't speak the language of his feelings. "I not know was New York. In Chinese, ny mean 'you.' Thought was 'I love you.'" It was then that I noticed the "I♥NY" poster on the wall, and the "I♥NY" flag over the door, and the "I♥NY" dishtowels, and the "I♥NY" lunchbox on the kitchen table. I asked him, "Well, then why do you love everybody so much?

I'VE SAVED THE BEST FOR LAST: There is ONE technique that can work to both find the risk, and close the deal. BUT it's a delicate one that requires mastery through preparation and practice. The strategy is called: What's the risk? What's the reward? When a prospect hesitates, you simply ask him or her to list the risks of purchase. Actually write them down. Prompt others. If the prospect says "I'm not sure," you ask, "Could it be ..." After you feel the list is complete, ask the prospect to list the rewards. Write them down, and embellish as much as possible without puking on the prospect. Then eliminate the risks one by one with lead in phrases like: Suppose we could ... did you know that ... I think we can ... Then you simply ask, "can you see any other reasons not to proceed?" One at a time, brick by brick, remove the risks that the buyer perceives as fatal mistakes in his decision-making process. Then drive home the rewards, both emotionally and logically.

By December 1975, a year had passed since Mr. Harvey had packed his bags, but there was still no sign of him. For a while, until the tape dirtied or the paper tore, store owners kept a scratchy sketch of him taped to their windows. Lindsey and Samuel walked in the neighboorhood or hung out at Hal's bike shop. She wouldn't go to the diner where the other kids went. The owner of the diner was a law and order man. He had blown up the sketch of George Harvey to twice its size and taped it to the front door. He willingly gave the grisly details to any customer who asked- young girl, cornfield, found only an elbow. Finallly Lindsey asked Hal to give her a ride to the police station. She wanted to know what exactly they were doing. They bid farewell to Samuel at the bike shop and Hal gave Lindsey a ride through a wet December snow. From the start, Lindsey's youth and purpose had caught the police off guard. As more and more of them realized who she was, they gave her a wider and wider berth. Here was this girl, focused, mad, fifteen... When Lindsey and Hal waited outside the captain's office on a wooden bench, she thought she saw something across the room that she recognized. It was on Detective Fenerman's desk and it stood out in the room because of its color. What her mother had always distinguished as Chinese red, a harsher red than rose red, it was the red of classic red lipsticks, rarely found in nature. Our mother was proud of her ability fo wear Chinese red, noting each time she tied a particular scarf around her neck that it was a color even Grandma Lynn dared not wear. Hal,' she said, every muscle tense as she stared at the increasingly familiar object on Fenerman's desk. Yes.' Do you see that red cloth?' Yes.' Can you go and get it for me?' When Hal looked at her, she said: 'I think it's my mother's.' As Hal stood to retrieve it, Len entered the squad room from behind where Lindsey sat. He tapped her on the shoulder just as he realized what Hal was doing. Lindsey and Detective Ferman stared at each other. Why do you have my mother's scarf?' He stumbled. 'She might have left it in my car one day.' Lindsey stood and faced him. She was clear-eyed and driving fast towards the worst news yet. 'What was she doing in your car?' Hello, Hal,' Len said. Hal held the scarf in his head. Lindsey grabbed it away, her voice growing angry. 'Why do you have m mother's scarf?' And though Len was the detective, Hal saw it first- it arched over her like a rainbow- Prismacolor understanding. The way it happened in algebra class or English when my sister was the first person to figure out the sum of x or point out the double entendres to her peers. Hal put his hand on Lindsey's shoulder to guide her. 'We should go,' he said. And later she cried out her disbelief to Samuel in the backroom of the bike shop.

Du reste, la majorité des orientalistes ne sont et ne veulent être que des érudits ; tant qu’ils se bornent à des travaux historiques ou philologiques, cela n’a pas grande importance ; il est évident que des ouvrages de ce genre ne peuvent servir de rien pour atteindre le but que nous envisageons ici, mais leur seul danger, en somme, est celui qui est commun à tous les abus de l’érudition, nous voulons dire la propagation de cette « myopie intellectuelle » qui borne tout savoir à des recherches de détail, et le gaspillage d’efforts qui pourraient être mieux employés dans bien des cas. Mais ce qui est beaucoup plus grave à nos yeux, c’est l’action exercée par ceux des orientalistes qui ont la prétention de comprendre et d’interpréter les doctrines, et qui les travestissent de la façon la plus incroyable, tout en assurant parfois qu’ils les comprennent mieux que les Orientaux eux-mêmes (comme Leibnitz s’imaginait avoir retrouvé le vrai sens des caractères de Fo-hi), et sans jamais songer à prendre l’avis des représentants autorisés des civilisations qu’ils veulent étudier, ce qui serait pourtant la première chose à faire, au lieu de se comporter comme s’il s’agirait de reconstituer des civilisations disparues.

Çok güvenli görünüyorsunuz! Fakat sanmayın ki bu böylece devam edecek! Öfke ve nefret büyük geminizin makine dairesinde terden geberenlerle birleşecek, biliyorum. İspanyol, türk, yunan, arap, italyan göçmenler ve avrupa’nın tüm ezilenleri…ve tüm kadınlar, ezildiğinin, aşağılandığının sömürüldüğünün farkında olan tüm kadınlar neden burada olduğumu ve beni neden öldürmek istediğinizi anlayacaklar… Gardiyanlar, yargıçlar, politikacılar, hiç biriniz umurumda değilsiniz. Asla beni delirtemeyeceksiniz! Beni sağlam öldüreceksiniz… mükemmel bir ruh ve mükemmel bir beyinle. Böylece herkes katillerin devleti ve katillerin hükümeti olduğunuzu anlayacak! Herkes sosyal demokrasinin neye benzediğini anlayacak! …şimdiden cesedimi kaçırıp saklamanızı, kapıyı avukatlarıma kapatmanızı görür gibiyim. Ulrike Meinhof kendini astı diyeceksiniz. Kanlı ellerinizle kapıları yüzlerine kapatacak ve fotoğraf çekmeyi soru sormayı yasaklayacaksınız. Yasak diyeceksiniz, cesedi incelemek yasak! soru sormak, düşünmek, tahmin etmek yasak!! yasak!!… ama kendi korkunuzu yasaklayamazsınız! Her katile özgü korkuyu yasaklayamazsınız! Cesedim bir dağ gibi ağır olacak…yüz bin ve yüz bin…yüz binlerce kadın kolu bu kocaman dağı kaldırıp omuzlarına alırken sizin oturduğunuz o sahte tahtı sarsacak müthiş bir kahkaha atacaklar! ..ve hep birlikte bağıracaklar: Ulrike Meinhof’u öldüremeyeceksiniz.

The panel delivery truck drew up before the front of the “Amsterdam Apartments” on 126th Street between Madison and Fifth Avenues. Words on its sides, barely discernible in the dim street light, read: LUNATIC LYNDON … I DELIVER AND INSTALL TELEVISION SETS ANY TIME OF DAY OR NIGHT ANY PLACE. Two uniformed delivery men alighted and stood on the sidewalk to examine an address book in the light of a torch. Dark faces were highlighted for a moment like masks on display and went out with the light. They looked up and down the street. No one was in sight. Houses were vague geometrical patterns of black against the lighter blackness of the sky. Crosstown streets were always dark. Above them, in the black squares of windows, crescent-shaped whites of eyes and quarter moons of yellow teeth bloomed like Halloween pumpkins. Suddenly voices bubbled in the night. “Lookin’ for somebody?” The driver looked up. “Amsterdam Apartments.” “These is they.” Without replying, the driver and his helper began unloading a wooden box. Stenciled on its side were the words: Acme Television “Satellite” A.406. “What that number?” someone asked. “Fo-o-six,” Sharp-eyes replied. “I’m gonna play it in the night house if I ain’t too late.” “What ya’ll got there, baby?” “Television set,” the driver replied shortly. “Who dat getting a television this time of night?” The delivery man didn’t reply. A man’s voice ventured, “Maybe it’s that bird liver on the third storey got all them mens.” A woman said scornfully, “Bird liver! If she bird liver I’se fish and eggs and I got a daughter old enough to has mens.” “… or not!” a male voice boomed. “What she got ’ill get television sets when you jealous old hags is fighting over mops and pails.” “Listen to the loverboy! When yo’ love come down last?” “Bet loverboy ain’t got none, bird liver or what.” “Ain’t gonna get none either. She don’t burn no coal.” “Not in dis life, next life maybe.” “You people make me sick,” a woman said from a group on the sidewalk that had just arrived. “We looking for the dead man and you talking ’bout tricks.” The two delivery men were silently struggling with the big television box but the new arrivals got in their way. “Will you ladies kindly move your asses and look for dead men sommers else,” the driver said. His voice sounded mean. “ ’Scuse me,” the lady said. “You ain’t got him, is you?” “Does I look like I’m carrying a dead man ’round in my pocket?” “Dead man! What dead man? What you folks playing?” a man called down interestedly. “Skin?” “Georgia skin? Where?” “Ain’t nobody playing no skin,” the lady said with disgust. “He’s one of us.” “Who?” “The dead man, that’s who.” “One of usses? Where he at?” “Where he at? He dead, that’s where he at.” “Let me get some green down on dead man’s row.” “Ain’t you the mother’s gonna play fo-o-six?” “Thass all you niggers thinks about,” the disgusted lady said. “Womens and hits!” “What else is they?” “Where yo’ pride? The white cops done killed one of usses and thass all you can think about.” “Killed ’im where?” “We don’t know where. Why you think we’s looking?” “You sho’ is a one-tracked woman. I help you look, just don’t call me nigger is all.