Gala Quotes

I wake up and I see the face of the devil and I ask him, "What time is it?" And he says, How much time do you want?

El amor es una amistad con momentos eróticos.

I dedicate this novel to Gala, who was constantly by my side while I was writing it, who was the good fairy of my equilibrium, who banished the salamanders of my doubts and strengthened the lions of certainties...

Consider, if you will, the morning boner. What a metaphor of hope and renewal! How can anyone give way to despair when one’s groin greets each day with such a gala spectacle of physical optimism?

So if you had the chance . . . even if there was no music and no ballgown, no tuxedo or gala . . . when your true love asked you to dance? It was important to say yes.

Don’t you fucking dare.” My voice is as quiet as I can make it. “If you say anything, I will end you. Then I’ll marry your wife just to spite you, and your son will grow up calling me Daddy.”  “Oh, fuck you!” Maddison isn’t trying to be quiet at all. “Stevie, Zee wants you to be his date to a charity gala in Chicago, but he’s too chicken shit to ask and doesn’t think you’d want to go with him.”  “I fucking hate you. We are no longer friends.

The threat made Liam smile. There was something to be said for having someone like you so much they chained you to a wall.

I am not a pessimist. Just a well informed optimist.

I am a woman with thoughts and questions and shit to say. I say if I'm beautiful. I say if I'm strong. You will not determine my story — I will. I will speak and share and fuck and love, and I will never apologize to the frightened millions who resent that they never had it in them to do it. I stand here and I am amazing, for you. Not because of you. I am not who I sleep with. I am not my weight. I am not my mother. I am myself. (2014 Gloria Awards and Gala)

No soy pesimista. Soy un optimista bien informado.

I tried sex once with a woman and it was Gala. It was overated. I tried sex once with a man and that man was the famous juggler Frederico Garcia Lorca. It was very painful.

Jauns vēl esmu. Gribas sākt no gala. Vēl joprojām ļoti patīk vējš. Sasāp kopā sirds un debesmala. Vēl man dusmas ir, ka ļaudis sēž.

Lo! 'tis a gala night Within the lonesome latter years! An angel throng, bewinged, bedight In veils, and drowned in tears, Sit in a theatre, to see A play of hopes and fears [...]

We are all one. Everything is meaningless, and yet at the same time meaningful. Everything matters and doesn’t matter just as much," Wisdom said and looked beyond time.(Nakoma, by Gala.J)

This is a day of celebration! Today, we are divorcing the past and marrying the present. Dance, and you will find God in every room. Today, we are divorcing resentment and marrying forgiveness. Sing, and God will find you in every tune. Today, we are divorcing indifference and marrying love. Drink, and play that tambourine against your thighs. We have so much celebrating to do!

Hypatia, like all girls who intend to be good wives, made it a practice to look on any suggestions thrown out by her future lord and master as fatuous and futile.

Kodėl žmogaus sielos esmė yra ilgesys? Kodėl žmogus, nutvėręs tai, ką buvo vijęsis, apsivylęs sako: ne, tat ne tai! Kodėl žmogaus sieloje žydi gėlės, kurių kvapu niekas nesigėri? Kodėl viso ko galas yra mirtis?

New skin, a new land! And a land of liberty, if that is possible! I chose the geology of a land that was new to me, and that was young, virgin, and without drama, that of America. I traveled in America, but instead of romantically and directly rubbing the snakeskin of my body against the asperities of its terrain, I preferred to peel protected within the armor of the gleaming black crustacean of a Cadillac which I gave Gala as a present. Nevertheless all the men who admire and the women who are in love with my old skin will easily be able to find its remnants in shredded pieces of various sizes scattered to the winds along the roads from New York via Pittsburgh to California. I have peeled with every wind; pieces of my skin have remained caught here and there along my way, scattered through that "promised land" which is America; certain pieces of this skin have remained hanging in the spiny vegetation of the Arizona desert, along the trails where I galloped on horseback, where I got rid of all my former Aristotelian "planetary notions." Other pieces of my skin have remained spread out like tablecloths without food on the summits of the rocky masses by which one reaches the Salt Lake, in which the hard passion of the Mormons saluted in me the European phantom of Apollinaire. Still other pieces have remained suspended along the "antediluvian" bridge of San Francisco, where I saw in passing the ten thousand most beautiful virgins in America, completely naked, standing in line on each side of me as I passed, like two rows of organ-pipes of angelic flesh with cowrie-shell sea vulvas.

Cross your ankles and do not move.” “Does shaking count?

تعبيري عن الحب كان تملكياً بشكل مفرط و يخيفه كما يخيف عملاق طفلاً

Only palteia can be let in the way one allows a small child into one's life. Only a palteia wouldn't take information and turn it against you. They are gifts. They are to be trusted and cherished and protected. All palteia are. You are my palteia.

Happiness is realizing that nothing is too important.

Le voilà le grand drame de notre société: Même les riches ne font plus envie. Ils sont gros, moches, et vulgaires, leurs femmes sont liftées, ils vont en prison, leurs enfants se droguent, ils ont des goûts de ploucs, ils posent pour Gala. Les riches d'aujourd'hui ont oublié que l'argent est un moyen non une fin. Ils ne savent plus quoi en faire. Au moins quand on est pauvre, on peut se dire qu'avec du fric, tout s'arrangerait. Mais quand on est riche, on ne peut pas se dire qu'avec une nouvelle baraque dans le Midi, une autre voiture de sport, une paire de pompes à 12000 balles, ou un mannequin supplémentaire, tout s'arrangerait. Quand on est riche, on n'a plus d'excuse. C'est pour ça que tout les milliardaires sont sous Prozac ; parce qu'ils ne font plus rêver personne, même pas eux !

Somos como un edificio y el hombre dedica al amor una habitación, lo demás es para el bricolaje, para los niños, para los amigos, para el trabajo...la mujer tumba todos los muros y deja que el amor lo inunde todo.

Recorrí pasillos y galerías en espiral pobladas por cientos, miles de tomos que parecían saber más acerca de mí que yo de ellos. Al poco, me asaltó la idea de que tras la cubierta de cada uno de aquellos libros se abría un universo infinito por explorar y de que, más allá de aquellos muros, el mundo dejaba pasar la vida en tardes de fútbol y seriales de radio, satisfecho con ver hasta allí donde alcanza su ombligo y poco más. Quizá fue aquel pensamiento, quizá el azar o su pariente de gala, el destino, pero en aquel mismo instante supe que ya había elegido el libro que iba a adoptar. O quizá debiera decir el libro que me iba a adoptar a mí. Se asomaba tímidamente en el extremo de una estantería, encuadernado en piel de color vino y susurrando su título en letras doradas que ardían a la luz que destilaba la cúpula desde lo alto. Me acerqué hasta él y acaricié las palabras con la yema de los dedos, leyendo en silencio. La Sombra del Viento JULIÁN CARAX.

كل إنسان يبحث عن منفعته ، التي يموهها أحيانا بملابس زاهية مترفة ، يسميها : الله ، الملك أو الوطن

Alonso ha de ser tuyo; que serás dichosa espero con hombre que es en Castilla "la gala de Medina, la flor de Olmedo.

Kas iš gėrio, grožio, tiesos, jei viso ko galas — puvėsiai, niekas, nebūvis?

-Ustani i hodaj -naređivala je Gala. –Još ni u čemu nisi uspeo. Moraš da pričekaš smrt!

Yes. I met Emmeline at a fundraising gala and we started seeing each other. We lived together up until she took a teaching job in Prescott and moved out here.

Opening night is in a week. Already announced to the papers, already sent out in the newsletter in fancy, glossy, full-color glory. Which means I have two days, max, to finish the framing—easily a week’s worth of work—and then four days for drilling the star maps I’ve already marked on the plywood, painting, wiring, installing, and finessing.Leaving me only one day—the day of the evening gala—to clean and get the actual exhibits set up. It’s impossible. I will make it happen or die trying. I don’t realize I’ve said that last part aloud until I notice Michelle’s horrified face.

Know that change is always challenged! When you decide that you want to make a change, it is the way of the universe to throw obstacles in our way. It is like we are being tested to see how serious we really are about what it is we have said! See it for what it is, don't get discouraged & always keep going!

Sometimes Gala and I find ourselves sitting in silence, not for the lack of things to say but because the gift of content silence with someone other than yourself is to be relished. In fact, it is luxurious.

Daudz varam runāt un spriest, kāds uzdevums cilvēka dzīvei, Tomēr pie gala nekad netiksim, tici man, draugs. Skaidrību mirstīgam prātam ir slēpusi augstāka vara; Cerēt un minēt var daudz, saprast un zināt – neko.

It’s weird the thing with Henry could make him understand this huge part of himself, but it does. When he sinks into thoughts of Henry’s hands, square knuckles and elegant fingers, he wonders how he never realized it before. When he sees Henry next at a gala in Berlin, and he feels that gravitational pull, chases it down in the back of a limo, and binds Henry’s wrists to a hotel bedpost with his own necktie, he knows himself better.

I remembered the bright silks and sparkling faces I had seen that day, in gala trim, swan-like sailing down the Mississippi of Broadway; and I contrasted them with the pallid copyist, and thought to myself, Ah, happiness courts the light, so we deem the world is gay; but misery hides aloof, so we deem that misery there is none.

Haz gala, Sancho, de la humildad de tu linaje, y no te desprecies de decir que vienes de labradores; porque viendo que no te corres, ninguno se pondrá a correrte; y préciate más de ser humilde virtuoso que pecador soberbio.

May the sun bring opportunities.

Only your opinion of yourself matters.

Contar cualquier historia es contar cicatrices.

Gotovo nikada nismo imali novca i živeli smo tajno obuzeti brigom zbog toga....Sažaljenje bližnjega ubija. Snaga, govorila je Gala, ne leži u tome da se izazove sažaljenje, več postiđenost. Mogli smo da umremo od gladi, niko to nikada ne bi znao.

To pair bond is to share stagnant waters and enjoy the condition of boring with an individual you find pleasing enough to seek repetitious experiences.” Max blinked and tried to restart his brain. “That is the strangest definition of marriage I have ever heard,

We live in a strange world, where we think we can buy or build our way out of a crisis that has been created by buying and building things. Where a football game or a film gala gets more media attention than the biggest crisis humanity has ever faced. Where celebrities, film and pop stars who have stood up against all injustices will not stand up for our environment and for climate justice because that would inflict on their right to fly around the world visiting their favourite restaurants, beaches and yoga retreats.

It's like, Jude, for example," I say, quietly, careful with my words. "He's so nice. Everybody likes him. He just gets along with people, everywhere he goes. I know I'm not that. And Ari, she's so talented, and so passionate about music, but I'm not really passionate about anything, other than wanting to succeed. To do my best. But I can make plans, and I can stay organized, and if a teacher assigns a report, I'm going to write the best darn report they've ever seen. If I'm throwing a gala, I'm going to throw a party that no one will ever forget. I can do that. And if I can impress people, then maybe they won't notice that I'm not witty or beautiful or... fun.

I arrived next to them right as she laughed at something he said. It rang through the air like silver bells, and the tic in my jaw pulsed harder. He didn’t deserve her laugh. “Something funny?” I asked, masking my ire with an expression of cool indifference. Surprise and wariness flared in Ava’s eyes at the sight of me. Good. She should be wary. She should be fucking home, safe and sound, instead of dancing with a manwhore like Colton and letting him put his hands all over her. “I was just telling her a joke.” Colton chuckled but shot me a warning look that said, Why are you cockblocking, man? He was lucky if all I did was cockblock. I was tempted to break every bone in his hand for touching her like that. “You mind? We’re in the middle of a dance.” “Actually, it’s my turn.” I maneuvered myself between them and pulled him off her with a little more force than necessary. Colton flinched. “You have to leave the gala early. Business calls.

It is a terrible moment when you realise you’ll never do all the best things this world can offer; that you’ll never have a superlative experience. You’ll go to a Gala Bingo rather than Vegas; get your own office, but not be a CEO; and get a gravestone, but not in Poet’s Corner. You’ll never sleep with the girls on the TV. And all of this mediocrity was made worse by the fact of its inescapable prevalence.

The forces that we deal with have two sides: one is good and helpful and the other is dark and dangerous. Part of your training is to learn to distinguish between them, and know when to use which.” (Nakoma)

Artistic integrity is not a guest whom one may choose not to invite to a gala. She must be the first you invite, the first you seat, the first you serve food and wine, the one who calls the orchestra's tunes, the one who is offered her choice of dance partners throughout the night.

Gala Gradiva - 'tista, ki hodi spredaj, 'brezmadežna intuicija' - je imela spet prav. Danes lahko rećem, da izmed vseh mojih prepričanj le dveh ne zmorem razložiti s svojo voljo do moči: eno je znova najdena vera leta 1949, drugo pa, da bo imela Gala glede moje prihodnosti vedno prav.

People do not seem to realise that the planet is FULL of AMAZING people, many of whom would pass out at the opportunity to TALK to you, let alone hold your hand & kiss you in public & buy you rad Christmas presents.

SEGISMUNDO: ¡Ay mísero de mí, y ay infelice! Apurar, cielos, pretendo, ya que me tratáis así, qué delito cometí contra vosotros naciendo. Aunque si nací, ya entiendo qué delito he cometido; bastante causa ha tenido vuestra justicia y rigor, pues el delito mayor del hombre es haber nacido. Sólo quisiera saber para apurar mis desvelos -dejando a una parte, cielos, el delito del nacer-, ¿qué más os pude ofender, para castigarme más? ¿No nacieron los demás? Pues si los demás nacieron, ¿qué privilegios tuvieron que no yo gocé jamás? Nace el ave, y con las galas que le dan belleza suma, apenas es flor de pluma, o ramillete con alas, cuando las etéreas salas corta con velocidad, negándose a la piedad del nido que dejan en calma; ¿y teniendo yo más alma, tengo menos libertad? Nace el bruto, y con la piel que dibujan manchas bellas, apenas signo es de estrellas -gracias al docto pincel-, cuando, atrevido y cruel, la humana necesidad le enseña a tener crueldad, monstruo de su laberinto; ¿y yo, con mejor instinto, tengo menos libertad? Nace el pez, que no respira, aborto de ovas y lamas, y apenas bajel de escamas sobre las ondas se mira, cuando a todas partes gira, midiendo la inmensidad de tanta capacidad como le da el centro frío; ¿y yo, con más albedrío, tengo menos libertad? Nace el arroyo, culebra que entre flores se desata, y apenas sierpe de plata, entre las flores se quiebra, cuando músico celebra de las flores la piedad que le dan la majestad del campo abierto a su huída; ¿y teniendo yo más vida, tengo menos libertad? En llegando a esta pasión, un volcán, un Etna hecho, quisiera sacar del pecho pedazos del corazón. ¿Qué ley, justicia o razón negar a los hombres sabe privilegios tan süave excepción tan principal, que Dios le ha dado a un cristal, a un pez, a un bruto y a un ave?

A massive and essential part of self-love is forgiveness and acceptance. So while you’re making an effort and striving to be the best person you can be, at the same time you need to recognize your own humanity. Try not to hold yourself to impeccable standards, and just do the best you can right now.

If I were not so highly ranked and mature for two hundred, I would test the genetics and make a point out of telling the male that he had been rejected in favor of my sperm.” “You’re having a fantasy about that right now, aren't you?" Liam asked. "Yes

Semua sifat-sifat ini terhimpun di dalam hati, seolah-olah di dalam diri manusia itu ada binatang babi, anjing, syaitan dan pendita. Maksud babi ialah nafsu syahwat, sebab babi itu dikeji bukan kerana warna dan rupanya tetapi kerana kegelojohan, nafsu syahwat dan kerakusannya. Maksud anjing ialah nafsu marah kerana anjing itu bersifat garang dan bermusuh. Babi sentiasa mengajak supaya bersikap gelojoh melakukan keburukan dan kemungkaran, dan anjing pula mengajak supaya bersikap marah dengan melakukan kekejaman dan penganiyaan. Sementara syaitan pula sentiasa menyemarakkan nafsu syahwat babi dan nafsu marah anjing itu serta menggalakkan keduanya menyaingi satu sama lain. Maksud pendita ialah akal yang diperintahkan supaya mematahkan godaan syaitan dengan mendedahkan tipu helahnya melalui cahaya yang terang-benderang, melumpuhkan kerakusan dan syahwat babi itu dengan mengarahkan anjing supaya mengawalnya, kerana nafsu syahwat dapat dilumpuhkan dengan nafsu marah, dan mengawal kegarangan anjing dengan mengarahkan babi kepadanya, serta menjadikan anjing itu tunduk kepada perintahnya (akal). Jika akal dapat berbuat demikian nescaya segala-gala akan berjalan dengan lurus dan baik di dalam kerajaan jasmani. Jika gagal menundukkan nafsu syahwat dan nafsu marah, maka akal akan menajdi hamba kepada kedua-duanya, sebagaimana yang terdapat di kalangan kebanyakan orang yang menumpukan minat ke arah nafsu perut dan nafsu seks dan kepada usaha-usaha menyaingi hebat orang lain. Ini bererti akal tunduk di bawah telunjuk syaitan kerana syaitanlah yang mendorong nafsu syahwat dan nafsu marah supaya berkhidmat kepadanya. Dengan kata lain akal ketika itu adalah menyembah dan ber'abdi kepada syaitan.

He did like his sexual fantasies to have a little more adrenaline than most folk.

He didn't quite know how to neutralize a threat that he couldn't shoot.

It’s all very Eckhart Tolle when you think about it — the key to being charismatic is being PRESENT.

the world is what you make it, and your inner world is constantly being reflected back at you.

At this rate, he was going to have the strongest tail tip of any Rownt living.

You know how much people lie. You know how they hide themselves. How can you ever trust someone when you haven't seen how they'll act when they hold the power?

It's the business of your life...and you're the CEO!

Oh, it was a cousin of pain—a kissing cousin even—but Dylan didn’t have a name for the sensation that made him want to live inside that ache. Maybe he’d just call it Bob.

Maybe I trust you to be a man and handle the gray reality of truth better than all these kids who still think in black-and-white.” Commander Zeke Waters from The Only Way Out Is In

It's another man. I'll kill him. Check everything. Lock out the banks. Tuesday after the Unicef Gala. Fucked her Tuesday. She came. Did she come? Definitely came. What did I do wrong? It's me. What's his name? I'll kill— Apologize for nothing. Get access to her email. Where is she? Apologize for everything. She didn't mean it. Do something. Do something. Do. Something.

The famous courtesan Clarimonde died recently, as the result of an orgy which lasted eight days and eight nights. It was something infernally magnificent. They revived the abominations of the feasts of Belshazzar and Cleopatra. Great God! what an age this is in which we live! The guests were served by swarthy slaves speaking an unknown tongue, who to my mind had every appearance of veritable demons; the livery of the meanest among them might have served as a gala-costume for an emperor. There have always been current some very strange stories concerning this Clarimonde, and all her lovers have come to a miserable or a violent end. It has been said that she was a ghoul, a female vampire; but I believe that she was Beelzebub in person.

City of Percepliquis Ever sought, forever missed Pick and shovel, dig and haul Search forever, fall the wall. Gala halted, city’s doom Spring warmth chilled with dust and gloom Darkness sealed, blankets all Death upon them, fall the wall. Ancient stones upon the Lee Dusts of memories gone we see Once the center, once the all Lost forever, fall the wall

At the gala, before he made his exit, Jim told the audience, “I like to think of this problem of homelessness as a prism held up to society, and what we see refracted are the weaknesses in our health care system, our public health system, our housing system, but especially in our welfare system, our educational system, and our legal system—and our corrections system. If we’re going to fix this problem, we have to address the weaknesses of all those sectors.” It was a bleak assessment, implying that the only cure for homelessness would be an end to many of the country’s deep, abiding flaws.

In April 1962, McGeorge Bundy—the former Harvard dean and now national security adviser to President Kennedy—had Oppenheimer invited to a White House dinner honoring forty-nine Nobel laureates. At this gala affair, Oppie rubbed elbows with such other luminaries as the poet Robert Frost, the astronaut John Glenn and the writer Norman Cousins. Everyone laughed when Kennedy quipped, “I think this is the most extraordinary collection of talent, of human knowledge, that has ever been gathered together at the White House, with the possible exception of when Thomas Jefferson dined alone.” Afterwards,

Hassan can, at a handclap, call a vassal at hand and ask that all staff plan a bacchanal - a gala ball that has what pagan charm small galas lack. Hassan claps, and (tah-dah) an Arab lass at a swank spa can draw a man's bath and wash a man's back, as Arab lads fawn and hang, athwart an altar, amaranth garlands as fragrant as attar - a balm that calms all angst. A dwarf can flap a palm branch that fans a fat maharajah.

As far as Jacqs was concerned, he was doing a kindness by not letting Quin get confused about his feelings. Liking someone and not knowing if they liked you back was one of those levels of hell. The Only Way Out Is In

I open the door and find my friend sitting on his bed, holding an ancient book gently by its spine. His smooth features ripple into a smile when he sees it is me. “I thought you were Tactus come to beg me to shoot some stims before the gala. He always thinks because I’m reading, I’m not doing anything. There is no greater plague to an introvert than the extroverted. Especially that beast. He will run himself into the ground one of these days.

Haz gala, Sancho, de la humildad de tu linaje, y no te desprecies de decir que vienes de labradores; porque, viendo que no te corres, ninguno se pondrá a correrte; y préciate más de ser humilde virtuoso que pecador soberbio.

Un, kad dažus gadus vēlāk man gadījās atzīt, ka esmu šāvis pār strīpu un ka man lieti noderētu pavingrināties meditēšanā, biju kļuvis par lepnu, lai sāktu visu no gala. -- Par lepnu? - klusi pārvaicāja Knehts. -- Jā, par lepnu.

A happy clown inside spat out a pig-in-a-blanket and yelled at the cute waitress holding the tray. … I had to throw up but other than the banker’s suit forcing its way onto Elise’s face there really wasn’t an appropriate place for it.

Given that Liam had missed a courtship lasting several years and realized he was in a relationship only when he had woken up chained to a wall, he could very well believe someone else might learn the Rownt culture more quickly than he had.

Wait", Alex said, "you don't mind that we're gay?" Elijah shrugged. "I figure you'll go to hell, seeing as how the Bible calls that one of those abominations. But until you get yourself dead, it ain't none of my business. Actually, it ain't my business even after you're dead, seeing as how I don't intend to be down in hell with all the fornicators and such.

The Conqueror Worm Lo! 'tis a gala night Within the lonesome latter years! An angel throng, bewinged, bedight In veils, and drowned in tears, Sit in a theatre, to see A play of hopes and fears, While the orchestra breathes fitfully The music of the spheres. Mimes, in the form of God on high, Mutter and mumble low, And hither and thither fly— Mere puppets they, who come and go At bidding of vast formless things That shift the scenery to and fro, Flapping from out their Condor wings Invisible Wo! That motley drama—oh, be sure It shall not be forgot! With its Phantom chased for evermore, By a crowd that seize it not, Through a circle that ever returneth in To the self-same spot, And much of Madness, and more of Sin, And Horror the soul of the plot. But see, amid the mimic rout A crawling shape intrude! A blood-red thing that writhes from out The scenic solitude! It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs The mimes become its food, And the angels sob at vermin fangs In human gore imbued. Out—out are the lights—out all! And, over each quivering form, The curtain, a funeral pall, Comes down with the rush of a storm, And the angels, all pallid and wan, Uprising, unveiling, affirm That the play is the tragedy, "Man," And its hero the Conqueror Worm.

Num duvida só, era muita chuva, só que: aqui somos muitos também. A união faz o reforço? Meu: é no sofrimento que o sorriso dum povo fica todo semelhado – uma única boca sem rosto a rir na cara da desgraça, a lhe amolecer. Brincas? Porque desfortúnio, inundação social? – é quase sempre uma questão de olhos, olhares. Não espanta só, uí, gala inda: o imbondeiro pra ti pode ser uma árvore cambuta-seca, feia. Mas!, e se eu te emprestar outras vistas: árvores antiga-rija, bonita de ilustrar muitas vezes o sol-poente?

Or maybe these words will be a candle that lights the way to a totally unknown future yet to unspool and unfurl before you into a gala, a giant party that is your life. But for now, in the quiet of birdsong or with the noise of a car honking in the distance—you press and dig on, scraping your trowel. Tapping your hand rake. Wiping your soiled hands on your shirt. Because no matter what, you are not alone, not with ten quintillion insects on this planet and 390,900 plants known to science—no, you are most certainly not alone in this rich and dark dirt.

Un amor como el mío es un don de la vida. Todos, aun a su pesar, tendrían que haberme dado la enhorabuena... Pero estos amores son aborrecidos, anatematizados, y, aunque no se diga (porque la envidia pregona una insuficiencia), envidiados también. El mundo no ha sido hecho por los felices ni para los felices.

No fucking way. Commander? You ain't got enough stupid in you to be an officer," Jacqs blurted.

Jacqs wasn't one to let a little thing like reality get between him and a good insult.

Jacqs' attempts at initiating sexual relationships usually involved either money or abject failure.

Mr Spacey has decreed that we will be going last. ooow! oh F**k. What's so bad about going last? Means you can't enjoy the show because you'll be Sh!tting yourself.

when Rownt penises grew an easy two feet longer and picked up a good thirty pounds as part of their erections. “Enjoying

The first time that Raoul saw Christine at the Opera, he was charmed by the girl's beauty and by the sweet images of the past which it evoked, but was rather surprised at the negative side of her art. He returned to listen to her. He followed her in the wings. He waited for her behind a Jacob's ladder. He tried to attract her attention. More than once, he walked after her to the door of her box, but she did not see him. She seemed, for that matter, to see nobody. She was all indifference. Raoul suffered, for she was very beautiful and he was shy and dared not to confess his love, even to himself. And then came the lightning-flash of the gala performance: the heavens torn asunder and an angel's voice heard upon earth for the delight of mankind and the utter capture of his heart.

બાળકો પતંગ જેવા હોય છે. એમને ખૂબ ઉંચે ઉડવું હોય છે, દૂર દૂર સુધીની દુનિયા જોવી હોય છે. મા-બાપની ફરજ છે કે એમની ડોર પોતાના હાથમાં રાખી એમને જમીન સાથે જોડાયેલા રાખવા. પવન અનુકૂળ હોય તો ઢીલ છોડવી, પણ ગોથા ખાવા લાગે તો ડોર થોડી ખેંચી લેવી. કપાવાનો ભય હોય તો થોડે દૂર પણ ખસેડી લેવી કારણ કે કપાયેલી પતંગનું ભવિષ્ય અકળ હોય છે. કોઈ સારા હાથમાં પડે અને ફરી ઉડવા માંડે તો વાંધો નહિ પણ કશે ફસાઈને તૂટી-ફૂટી જાય તો એ નુકસાન કાયમી હશે.

At my Grand Gala Ball of Coming Out, everyone will be required to wear a white dress, or else tuxedo tails and nothing else. A kiddie pool of sweet tea will be the dance floor as we wrestle with our complex identities because we all, every one of us, are complex, slippery, and tasty. We'll dance to bad eighties music as we lick and suck the excesses of multiple oppressions off one another. We'll all come out for what we are, and see ourselves in one another's body glitter.

Que la vida tiene ironías, se dice, cuando lo cierto es que es la más obtusa de todas las cosas conocidas, un día alguien debió decirle, Sigue adelante, siempre adelante, no te salgas de tu camino, y desde entonces, inepta, incapaz de aprender con las lecciones que tiene a gala enseñarnos, no ha hecho nada más que cumplir a ciegas la orden que le dieron, atropellando todo cuanto se encuentra a su paso, sin detenerse para valorar los daños, para pedirnos perdón, por lo menos una vez.

And you did all of this before I awakened?' 'Not all of us can afford to be layabouts ... You upper class types are all the same. Sleep until noon and then fritter your nights away.' She narrowed her eyes. 'I do not fritter my nights away.' 'Really? And what do you do at night?' 'I go to social events. Parties or galas. Sometimes a musicale. Or a charity event,' she tacked on with satisfaction. 'Well, I must retract my frittering comment in that case.' 'It's not frittering. It's surviving.

I regret ever falling for you and thinking my love for you would be enough, that we could get through anything together. I regret believing in us the way I did and risking it all for you.” I run a hand through my hair and draw a shaky breath. “You know what I regret the most? I regret asking you to dance with me at that gala. I should’ve let you go, should’ve moved on from my childish crush on you, and heeded my grandmother’s warnings. Hell, if I could go back in time, I would’ve left you alone on prom night and wouldn’t have consoled you. I wish I never kissed you, never brought you to a place I’d only ever wanted to share with my wife. All of my regrets have one thing in common, Celeste. You.” She looks away and wraps her arms around herself, her posture vulnerable. “The feeling is entirely mutual, Zane.” Her voice is soft, defeated, and for once, there’s no malice in her tone. The way she looks at me cuts through all my defenses, and fuck, it makes me want to take back every single word I just uttered.

Then Anomander turned to Gripp Galas. ‘Old friend, long have you served me, with valour and with honour. As my most trusted servant I have set my weight upon you, and not once heard from you a word of complaint. You have dressed my wounds on the field of battle. You have mended the damage of my clumsy youth. Did you truly believe that now, on this fraught day, I would once more draw tight this leash? We are all weakened by distress, and indeed it seems every tender emotion lies exposed and trembling to a forest of knives. Gripp Galas, old friend, your service to me ends here and it ends now. You have won the heart of a woman who in all things is nothing less than breathtaking. If love needs permission, I give it. If your future with Lady Hish can be served by any sacrifice within my ability, I give it.’ He set his gaze upon Hish Tulla. ‘Nothing need be asked and nothing need be surrendered by you, my lady. On this, of all days, I will see love made right.’ He swung into the saddle. ‘Go well, my friends. We are done here.

have kitchens, who have liveries, who make good cheer, who eat moor-hens on Friday, who strut about, a lackey before, a lackey behind, in a gala coach, and who have palaces, and who roll in their carriages in the name of Jesus Christ who went barefoot! You are a prelate,—revenues, palace, horses, servants, good table, all the sensualities of life; you have this like the rest, and like the rest, you enjoy it; it is well; but this says either too much or too little; this does not enlighten me upon the intrinsic and essential value of the man

Nada.., que a tuga até num vale a pena…! Mambo que às vezes penso – epá, vais rir, eu sei, mas é o rabo das tugas… Meu, tábua d’engomar, a xoetice toda? Rabo foi aonde então, Nzambi lhes castigou assim porquê?, nossa observação que nós fazíamos, antigas missões na tuga e noutras europas mais, comissão disto e daquilo que dava é pra tirarmos comissões no nosso bolso, e nós ali no bar, fim de tarde, sem as palavras – os olhares só: uma tuga, duas tugas, muitas tugas, mas agora pra encontrar inda um rabo de acender mesmo as vistas? Passas mal. Uí, falo isso por causa da maka das culturas, diferenças só, que eu fico mesmo a pensar que a cultura está mesmo até nos nossos olhos de pessoas, tás a rir?, gala só então: um gajo é daqui, fica a pôr riso na dança dos tugas e outros europeus, ancas desarranjadas e não dão semba, tão a falar é malcriado, mambos dos brasileiros, carnaval só. Afinal? Mas depois, considera só: eles também a nos verem dançar e vestir e pôr cu duro, num vão falar dança dos bêbados?, a dar bungula puramente e pôr açúcar e as kabetulas todas, num vão dizer estamos a ficar parecidos com os macacos?, xinguilamentos musicais? Olhos deles, muadiê, tou ta pôr, e os nossos olhos todos de cada um: culturas!, num enormes plural e final das contas.

You might want to stop with the threats before my heart gives out.” “You look healthy enough.” “And you look sane. Imagine that,” Stunt shot right back. His common sense kicked in about a second too late to save him from his mouth, and there was a long silence. Insulting the man holding you at gunpoint showed a real lack of common sense. Insulting him and then not being able to see the reaction because your back was turned and he’d gone utterly silent was so very much worse.

— ¡Crueldad notoria! —dijo Sancho—. ¡Desagradecimiento inaudito! Yo de mí sé decir que me rindiera y avasallara la más mínima razón amorosa suya. ¡Hideputa, y qué corazón de mármol, qué entrañas de bronce y qué alma de argamasa! Pero no puedo pensar qué es lo que vio esta doncella en vuestra merced que así la rindiese y avasallase: qué gala, qué brío, qué donaire, qué rostro, que cada cosa por sí déstas, o todas juntas, le enamoraron; que en verdad en verdad que muchas veces me paro a mirar a vuestra merced desde la punta del pie hasta el último cabello de la cabeza, y que veo más cosas para espantar que para enamorar; y, habiendo yo también oído decir que la hermosura es la primera y principal parte que enamora, no teniendo vuestra merced ninguna, no sé yo de qué se enamoró la pobre. — Advierte, Sancho —respondió don Quijote—, que hay dos maneras de hermosura: una del alma y otra del cuerpo; la del alma campea y se muestra en el entendimiento, en la honestidad, en el buen proceder, en la liberalidad y en la buena crianza, y todas estas partes caben y pueden estar en un hombre feo; y cuando se pone la mira en esta hermosura, y no en la del cuerpo, suele nacer el amor con ímpetu y con ventajas. Yo, Sancho, bien veo que no soy hermoso, pero también conozco que no soy disforme; y bástale a un hombre de bien no ser monstruo para ser bien querido, como tenga los dotes del alma que te he dicho.

Elizabeth glanced up as Ian handed her a glass of champagne. “Thank you,” she said, smiling up at him and gesturing to Duncan, the duke, and Jake, who were now convulsed with loud hilarity. “They certainly seem to be enjoying themselves,” she remarked. Ian absently glanced the group of laughing men, then back at her. “You’re breathtaking when you smile.” Elizabeth heard the huskiness in his voice and saw the almost slumberous look in his eyes, and she was wondering about its cause when he said softly, “Shall we retire?” That suggestion caused Elizabeth to assume his expression must be due to weariness. She, herself, was more than ready to seek the peace of her own chamber, but since she’d never been to a wedding reception before, she assumed that the protocol must be the same as at any other gala affair-which meant the host and hostess could not withdraw until the last of the guests had either left or retired. Tonight, every one of the guest chambers would be in use, and tomorrow a large wedding breakfast was planned, followed by a hunt. “I’m not sleepy-just a little fatigued from so much smiling,” she told him, pausing to bestow another smile on a guest who caught her eye and waved. Turning her face up to Ian, she offered graciously, “It’s been a long day. If you wish to retire, I’m sure everyone will understand.” “I’m sure they will,” he said dryly, and Elizabeth noted with puzzlement that his eyes were suddenly gleaming. “I’ll stay down here and stand in for you,” she volunteered. The gleam in his eyes brightened yet more. “You don’t think that my retiring alone will look a little odd?” Elizabeth knew it might seem impolite, if not precisely odd, but then inspiration struck, and she said reassuringly, “Leave everything to me. I’ll make your excuses if anyone asks.” His lips twitched. “Just out of curiosity-what excuse will you make for me?” “I’ll say you’re not feeling well. It can’t be anything too dire though, or we’ll be caught out in the fib when you appear looking fit for breakfast and the hunt in the morning.” She hesitated, thinking, and then said decisively, “I’ll say you have the headache.” His eyes widened with laughter. “It’s kind of you to volunteer to dissemble for me, my lady, but that particular untruth would have me on the dueling field for the next month, trying to defend against the aspersions it would cause to be cast upon my…ah…manly character.” “Why? Don’t gentlemen get headaches?” “Not,” he said with a roguish grin, “on their wedding night.” “I can’t see why.” “Can you not?” “No. And,” she added with an irate whisper, “I don’t see why everyone is staying down here this late. I’ve never been to a wedding reception, but it does seem as if they ought to be beginning to seek their beds.” “Elizabeth,” he said, trying not to laugh. “At a wedding reception, the guests cannot leave until the bride and groom retire. If you look over there, you’ll notice my great-aunts are already nodding in their chairs.” “Oh!” she exclaimed, instantly contrite. “I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” “Because,” he said, taking her elbow and beginning to guide her from the ballroom, “I wanted you to enjoy every minute of our ball, even if we had to prop the guests up on the shrubbery.

STUFFIN’ MUFFINS Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position. 4 ounces salted butter (1 stick, 8 Tablespoons, ¼ pound) ½ cup finely chopped onion (you can buy this chopped or chop it yourself) ½ cup finely chopped celery ½ cup chopped apple (core, but do not peel before chopping) 1 teaspoon powdered sage 1 teaspoon powdered thyme 1 teaspoon ground oregano 8 cups herb stuffing (the kind in cubes that you buy in the grocery store—you can also use plain bread cubes and add a quarter-teaspoon more of ground sage, thyme, and oregano) 3 eggs, beaten (just whip them up in a glass with a fork) 1 teaspoon salt ½ teaspoon black pepper (freshly ground is best) 2 ounces (½ stick, 4 Tablespoons, pound) melted butter ¼ to ½ cup chicken broth (I used Swanson’s) Hannah’s 1st Note: I used a Fuji apple this time. I’ve also used Granny Smith apples, or Gala apples. Before you start, find a 12-cup muffin pan. Spray the inside of the cups with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray OR line them with cupcake papers. Get out a 10-inch or larger frying pan. Cut the stick of butter in 4 to 8 pieces and drop them inside. Put the pan over MEDIUM heat on the stovetop to melt the butter. Once the butter has melted, add the chopped onions. Give them a stir. Add the chopped celery. Stir it in. Add the chopped apple and stir that in. Sprinkle in the ground sage, thyme, and oregano. Sauté this mixture for 5 minutes. Then pull the frying pan off the heat and onto a cold burner. In a large mixing bowl, combine the 8 cups of herb stuffing. (If the boxed stuffing you bought has a separate herb packet, just sprinkle it over the top of the mixture in your frying pan. That way you’ll be sure to put it in!) Pour the beaten eggs over the top of the herb stuffing and mix them in. Sprinkle on the salt and the pepper. Mix them in. Pour the melted butter over the top and mix it in. Add the mixture from your frying pan on top of that. Stir it all up together. Measure out ¼ cup of chicken broth. Wash your hands. (Mixing the stuffing is going to be a lot easier if you use your impeccably clean hands to mix it.) Pour the ¼ cup of chicken broth over the top of your bowl. Mix everything with your hands. Feel the resulting mixture. It should be softened, but not wet. If you think it’s so dry that your muffins might fall apart after you bake them, mix in another ¼ cup of chicken broth. Once your Stuffin’ Muffin mixture is thoroughly combined, move the bowl close to the muffin pan you’ve prepared, and go wash your hands again. Use an ice cream scoop to fill your muffin cups. If you don’t have an ice cream scoop, use a large spoon. Mound the tops of the muffins by hand. (Your hands are still impeccably clean, aren’t they?) Bake the Stuffin’ Muffins at 350 degrees F. for 25 minutes. Yield: One dozen standard-sized muffins that can be served hot, warm, or at room temperature. Hannah’s 2nd Note: These muffins are a great accompaniment to pork, ham, chicken, turkey, duck, beef, or . . . well . . . practically anything! If there are any left over, you can reheat them in the microwave to serve the next day. Hannah’s 3rd Note: I’m beginning to think that Andrea can actually make Stuffin’ Muffins. It’s only April now, so she’s got seven months to practice.

This is not to say that he was not qualified, though he concealed his beginnings as a scullion, to lend a hand like anyone else. It required some exceptional circumstance nevertheless to induce him one day to carve the turkeys himself. I was out, but I heard afterwards that he carved them with a sacerdotal majesty, surrounded, at a respectful distance from the service-table, by a ring of waiters who, endeavouring thereby not so much to learn the art as to curry favour with him, stood gaping in open-mouthed admiration. The manager, however, as he plunged his knife with solemn deliberation into the flanks of his victims, from which he no more deflected his eyes, filled with a sense of his high function, than if he were expecting to read some augury therein, was totally oblivious of their presence. The hierophant was not even conscious of my absence. When he heard of it, he was distressed: “What, you didn’t see me carving the turkeys myself?” I replied that having failed, so far, to see Rome, Venice, Siena, the Prado, the Dresden gallery, the Indies, Sarah in Phèdre, I had learned to resign myself, and that I would add his carving of turkeys to my list. The comparison with the dramatic art (Sarah in Phèdre) was the only one that he seemed to understand, for he had learned through me that on days of gala performances the elder Coquelin had accepted beginners’ roles, even those of characters who had only a single line or none at all. “All the same, I’m sorry for your sake. When shall I be carving again? It will need some great event, it will need a war.” (It needed the armistice, in fact.) From that day onwards, the calendar was changed, and time was reckoned thus: “That was the day after the day I carved the turkeys myself.” “It was exactly a week after the manager carved the turkeys himself.” And so this prosectomy furnished, like the Nativity of Christ or the Hegira, the starting point for a calendar different from the rest, but neither so extensively adopted nor so long observed.

The Comte de Chagny was right; no gala performance ever equalled this one. All the great composers of the day had conducted their own works in turns. Faure and Krauss had sung; and on that evening, Christine Daaé had revealed her true self, for the first time, to the astonished and and enthusiastic audience. Gounod had conducted the Funeral March of a Marionette; Reyer, his beautiful overture to Siguar; Saint Saëns, the Danse Macabre and a Rêverie Orientale, Massenet, an unpublished Hungarian march; Guiraud, his Carnaval; Delibes, the Valse lente from Sylvia and the Pizzicati from Coppelia. Mlle. Krauss had sung the bolero in the Vespri Siciliani; and Mlle. Denise Bloch the drinking song in Lucrezia Borgia. But the real triumph was reserved for Christine Daaé, who had begun by singing a few passages from Romeo and Juliet. It was the first time that the young artist sang in this work of Gounod, which had not been transferred to the Opera and which was revived at the the old Theatre Lyrique by Mme. Carvalho. Those who heard her say that her voice, in these passages, was seraphic; but this was nothing to the superhuman notes that she gave forth in the prison scene and the final trio in Faust, which she sang in the place of La Carlotta, who was ill. No one had ever heard or seen anything like it. Daaé revealed a new Margarita that night, a Margarita of a splendor, a radiance hitherto unsuspected. The whole house went mad, rising to it its feet, shouting, cheering, clapping, while Christine sobbed and fainted in the arms of her fellow-singers and had to be carried to her dressing-room. A few subscribers, however, protested. Why had so great a treasure been kept from them all that time? Till then, Christine Daaé had played a good Siebel to Carlotta's rather too splendidly material Margarita. And it had needed Carlotta's incomprehensible and inexcusable absence from this gala night for the little Daaé, at a moment's warning, to show all that she could do in a part of the programme reserved for the Spanish diva! Well, what the subscribers wanted to know was, why had Debienne and Poligny applied to Daaé, when Carlotta was taken ill? Did they know of her hidden genius? And, if they knew of it, why had they kept it hidden? And why had she kept it hidden? Oddly enough, she was not known to have a professor of singing at that moment. She had often said she meant to practice alone for the future. The whole thing was a mystery.