Glue Stick Quotes

Sticking to one person for a lifetime is not a waste of time or lack of better ones, it means you've found your place of eternity.

Sometimes I wonder about glue. No one ever stops to ask glue how it’s holding up. If it’s tired of sticking things together or worried about falling apart or wondering how it will pay its bills next week.

What an unreliable thing is time--when I want it to fly, the hours stick to me like glue. And what a changeable thing, too. Time is the twine to tie our lives into parcels of years and months. Or a rubber band stretched to suit our fancy. Time can be the pretty ribbon in a little girl's hair. Or the lines in your face, stealing your youthful colour and your hair. .... But in the end, time is a noose around the neck, strangling slowly.

I'm rubber and you're glue," I told Satan, " and everything that bounces of me sticks to you.

No amount of soul searching would fix my past. There was no magical Band-Aid I could stick on my heart, no special glue I could use to make myself whole again. I had shattered to pieces like a fragile vase on concrete; some fragments could be roughly cobbled back together, but many of my vital parts had simply turned to dust, pulverized and scattered by the first gust of wind.

I'm rubber, you're glue, whatever you say bounce off me and sticks to you.

Christmas works like glue, it keeps us all sticking together.

We don’t think of our flaws as the glue that binds us to the people we love, but they are. Grace only sticks to our imperfections. Those who can’t accept their imperfections can’t accept grace either.

I'd buy myself a cabin on the beach, I'd put some glue in my navel, and I'd stick a flag in there. Then I'd wait to see which way the wind was blowing.

Stay here."  "Yeah, fuck that. I'm sticking to you like glue. I've seen this horror movie, the person waiting in the hallway dies." Meryn shook her head. Aiden turned to stare at her. "Later we're going to talk about your movie choices.

Come spring, the trees give us gifts. Green bits that helicopter down from above. When they land, Joey and I follow, retrieve them and bend the blades until they touch, releasing the glue inside so we can stick them onto our noses and call each other Pinocchio. This beats anything in my yard. Gathering buds that die and fall was fine once. But chasing helicopters and having a green nose is better.

When a horse falls, foam comes out of its mouth. When it falls, the legs of the horse thrash and the horse is no good... So somebody shoots it. The horse turns into glue. A machine puts the glue into bottles and children squeeze the bottles to get the glue out and stick bits of paper onto cards. Glue gets on the children's hands and the children eat the glue. And the children become the horse.

Yeah, you’re just… Damn it, Charlotte you’re so fucking beautiful. How did I miss this? How did I not plaster myself at your side in kindergarten and stick to you like fucking Elmer’s glue every second until now?

As soon as a person indicates that they are willing to absorb guilt, a manipulator will stick to that person like glue and feed on their energy. This dynamic can be avoided simply by refusing to take on feelings of guilt. You do not have to justify yourself to anyone and you do not owe anybody anything. If you are to blame for something then you can accept the punishment, as long as you do not get stuck in the position of the guilty party afterwards. You do not owe those close to you anything either; after all, you care about them because you love them not because you have been coerced into doing so. This is a completely different matter. If you have a tendency to justify yourself, start letting go of it; once manipulative individuals realize they no longer have a way of hooking into your energy they will leave you alone. Guilt goes

Arts and crafts turn out to be surprisingly enjoyable; there’s something calming about sitting next to Shay in front of an assortment of glue sticks, pipe cleaners, markers, and googly eyes, with the freedom to create something ugly.

Ren exhaled heavily. “God, you’re so annoying.” “So?” Tink hovered in front of the couch, his wings furiously beating the air. “I’m rubber and you’re glue!” Ren turned to face the little guy. “What?” “Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you!” Ren stared at him and then slowly shook his head as he turned back to me. “It’s like living with a two-year-old with the mental capacity of a fifteen-year-old boy.

That’s the thing about the broken ones—they’re never too far beyond repair, even though it might seem that way. They just need a little glue and the right pair of hands to stick ’em back together.

I’d have to trust that my flaws were the ways through which I would receive grace. We don’t think of our flaws as the glue that binds us to the people we love, but they are. Grace only sticks to our imperfections. Those who can’t accept their imperfections can’t accept grace either.

Creole and Haiti stick to my insides like glue—it’s like my bones and muscles. But America is my skin, my eyes, and my breath. According to my papers, I’m not even supposed to be here. I’m not a citizen. I’m a “resident alien.” The borders don’t care if we’re all human and my heart pumps blood the same as everyone else’s.

I never write the storyline ahead of the novel and stick to it like glue. I prefer my writing to be organic. It takes on a life of it's own.

Stay here."  "Yeah, fuck that. I'm sticking to you like glue. I've seen this horror movie, the person waiting in the hallway dies.

Love is like permanent glue which sticks two souls and they can’t be separated unless they are lacerated. Souls are immortal and so is love.

Why is that everyone can forget about physical ailments quite easily, but when it comes to mental illness, it sticks to you like glue for the rest of your life?

And you? What brings you here? I shrugged my shoulders. No idea? Hm, you’re still young. Eighteen? I froze. Nineteen? Twenty? Incredible, so young. You have everything before you. No past. He sighed. Incredible, to have been so young once myself. Although what does that mean? There is only one age for anyone. I was and am, will always be fifty-eight. But you. Be careful what age you end up. It sticks to you. It seals you shut. The age you choose is like glue, it sets around you. This wisdom is not mine, you know. I got it from a book. A movie. I’m not sure. You notice things. It’s incredible. Your whole life you notice things.

Some things you carry around inside you as though they were part of your blood and bones, and when that happens, there’s nothing you can do to forget …But I had never been much of a believer. If anything, I believed that things got worse before they got better. I believed good people suffered... people who have faith were so lucky; you didn’t want to ruin it for them. You didn’t want to plant doubt where there was none. You had to treat suck individuals tenderly and hope that some of whatever they were feeling rubs off on you Those who love you will love you forever, without questions or boundaries or the constraints of time. Daily life is real, unchanging as a well-built house. But houses burn; they catch fire in the middle of the night. The night is like any other night of disaster, with every fact filtered through a veil of disbelief. The rational world has spun so completely out of its orbit, there is no way to chart or expect what might happen next At that point, they were both convinced that love was a figment of other people’s imaginations, an illusion fashioned out of smoke and air that really didn’t exist Fear, like heat, rises; it drifts up to the ceiling and when it falls down it pours out in a hot and horrible rain True love, after all, could bind a man where he didn’t belong. It could wrap him in cords that were all but impossible to break Fear is contagious. It doubles within minutes; it grows in places where there’s never been any doubt before The past stays with a man, sticking to his heels like glue, invisible and heartbreaking and unavoidable, threaded to the future, just as surely as day is sewn to night He looked at girls and saw only sweet little fuckboxes, there for him to use, no hearts involved, no souls, and, most assuredly no responsibilities. Welcome to the real world. Herein is the place where no one can tell you whether or not you’ve done the right thing. I could tell people anything I wanted to, and whatever I told them, that would be the truth as far as they were concerned. Whoever I said I was, well then, that’s who id be The truths by which she has lived her life have evaporated, leaving her empty of everything except the faint blue static of her own skepticism. She has never been a person to question herself; now she questions everything Something’s, are true no matter how hard you might try to bloc them out, and a lie is always a lie, no matter how prettily told You were nothing more than a speck of dust, good-looking dust, but dust all the same Some people needed saving She doesn’t want to waste precious time with something as prosaic as sleep. Every second is a second that belongs to her; one she understands could well be her last Why wait for anything when the world is so cockeyed and dangerous? Why sit and stare into the mirror, too fearful of what may come to pass to make a move? At last she knows how it feels to take a chance when everything in the world is at stake, breathless and heedless and desperate for more She’ll be imagining everything that’s out in front of them, road and cloud and sky, all the elements of a future, the sort you have to put together by hand, slowly and carefully until the world is yours once more

What Ralph didn't get, and I knew too well, was that Pig Face was like glue. In the beginning it seems like he's just a harmless glue stick, something you can wash off easily with soap and water. Then he turns out to be crazy glue - you're stuck with him forever.

You don't run when things get a little bumpy. That's not how life works. You stick. If you care about people, you stick." I swallow the lump that's making it hard to breathe. "I'm not very good glue." "No, you're more like two-sided tape, only one side is covered in cat litter.

What an unreliable thing is time—when I want it to fly, the hours stick to me like glue. And what a changeable thing, too. Time is the twine to tie our lives into parcels of years and months. Or a rubber band stretched to suit our fancy. Time can be the pretty ribbon in a little girl’s hair. Or the lines in your face, stealing your youthful colour and your hair.” He sighed and smiled sadly. “But in the end, time is a noose around the neck, strangling slowly.

Still, he’d have to eat something and the dark brown goo that half filled the tin was the only available food in this vicinity that didn’t have at least six legs. He didn’t even think about eating mutton. You couldn’t, when it was looking at you so pathetically. He poked the goo with the stick. It gripped the wood like glue. “Gerroff!” A blob eventually came loose. Rincewind tasted it, gingerly. It was just possible that if you mixed yeasty beer and vegetables together you’d get— No, what you got was salty-tasting beery brown gunk. Odd, though…It was kind of horrible, but nevertheless Rincewind found himself having another taste.

No glue can make a person stick like that

Im sticking to You like Glue! ~ Slade

I've been told I have a tendency to stick like crazy glue.

The spirit of those around you will stick to you like glue. Be careful of wrong associations and what you allow to cling to you. Not everyone who appears friendly is a friend.

There is no fate, there are no souls or stars crossing or ‘The Ones’. Our powerful emotion is an inbuilt survival tactic. It’s a primordial glue, sticking us together to continue the species.

4. COMMENT: “RACIST? I’M NOT RACIST! YOU’RE THE REAL RACIST!” Often heard when: You call out racism. Why it should be laid to rest: “I’m rubber and you’re glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you” hasn’t been a valid line of defense since elementary school. Comeback: “Just like talking about global warming doesn’t make me a greenhouse gas, talking about racism doesn’t make me a racist.

No one ever stops to ask glue how it’s holding up. If it’s tired of sticking things together or worried about falling apart or wondering how it will pay its bills next week. Kenji is kind of like that. He’s like glue. He works behind the scenes to keep things together and I’ve never stopped to think about what his story might be. Why he hides behind the jokes and the snark and the snide remarks. But he was right. Everything he said to me was right. Yesterday was a good idea. I needed to get away, to get out, to be productive. And now I need to take Kenji’s advice and get over myself. I need to get my head straight.

Usefulness is a useless concept when it comes to humans. I don't think we were ever meant to think about others in terms of their use to us. We keep pets for the pleasure of looking after them; we voluntarily feed extra mouths and scoop up excrement in little plastic bags, declaring it relaxing. We channel our adoration towards the most helpless citizens of all—babies and children—for reasons that have nothing to do with their future utility. We flourish in caring, on doling out love. The most helpless members of our families and communities are what stick us together. It's how we thrive. Our winters are social glue.

I took the bucket off my head. I looked at the carriage. The baby was NOT sitting in the carriage watching me. The baby was GONE. I looked under all the bushes, and up the tree, but I couldn’t find the baby. I’d lost the baby. Losing a baby is bad. I panicked. I ran inside and took a potato from the kitchen. From under my bed I scooped up lots of fluff and dust bunnies and stuck them to the top of the potato with my glue stick. I drew a face on the potato. I ran outside and put the potato-baby in the carriage. Maybe Mrs Whitman wouldn’t notice that it wasn’t her baby.

Knowing why you're doing something provides the inspiration and motivation to give the extra perspiration needed to persevere when things go south.. ..Purpose provides the ultimate glue that can help you stick to the path you've set. When what you do matches your purpose, your life just feels in rhythm, and the path you beat with your feet seems to match the sound in your head and heart. Live with purpose and don't be surprised if you actually hum more and even whistle while you work.

Although often with good intentions, our parents and teachers attribute negative definitions to us, which last for many years and prevent us from developing ourselves with pleasure. In psychomagic, we call these definitions “labels” because they stick to the self. So that the consultant can free herself from them, I advise: ▶ The consultant writes on adhesive labels as many definitions as they gave her, for example: “You have no ear for music,” “You don’t know how to use your hands,” “You’re a freeloader, liar, thief,” “You’re egotistical, weak, dumb, fat, skinny, vain, ungrateful,” and so on. The consultant glues these labels to every part of the body— many of them to the face—and goes out in public that way for as many hours as possible. When the consultant returns home, she should remove the labels, roll them into a ball, take the ball to the city dump, and throw it on top of the garbage pile, having beforehand caressed her body with hands soaked in pleasant perfume.

Less is not known as a teacher, in the same way Melville was not known as a customs inspector. And yet both held the respective positions. Though he was once an endowed chair at Robert’s university, he has no formal training except the drunken, cigarette-filled evenings of his youth, when Robert’s friends gathered and yelled, taunted, and played games with words. As a result, Less feels uncomfortable lecturing. Instead, he re-creates those lost days with his students. Remembering those middle-aged men sitting with a bottle of whiskey, a Norton book of poetry, and scissors, he cuts up a paragraph of Lolita and has the young doctoral students reassemble the text as they desire. In these collages, Humbert Humbert becomes an addled old man rather than a diabolical one, mixing up cocktail ingredients and, instead of confronting the betrayed Charlotte Haze, going back for more ice. He gives them a page of Joyce and a bottle of Wite-Out—and Molly Bloom merely says “Yes.” A game to write a persuasive opening sentence for a book they have never read (this is difficult, as these diligent students have read everything) leads to a chilling start to Woolf’s The Waves: I was too far out in the ocean to hear the lifeguard shouting, “Shark! Shark!” Though the course features, curiously, neither vampires nor Frankenstein monsters, the students adore it. No one has given them scissors and glue sticks since they were in kindergarten. No one has ever asked them to translate a sentence from Carson McCullers (In the town there were two mutes, and they were always together) into German (In der Stadt gab es zwei Stumme, und sie waren immer zusammen) and pass it around the room, retranslating as they go, until it comes out as playground gibberish: In the bar there were two potatoes together, and they were trouble. What a relief for their hardworking lives. Do they learn anything about literature? Doubtful. But they learn to love language again, something that has faded like sex in a long marriage. Because of this, they learn to love their teacher.

In these churches, the ministers are second in importance to the church ladies, who organize voters, make sure the church-run buses are ready on Election Day, and help people fill out absentee ballots. These ladies often, but not always, are also the ones cooking the fish. The churches almost always serve whiting because it’s cheap. Whiting is also delicious after it’s been fried golden in hot grease and Lawry’s Seasoned Salt and slathered with hot sauce and mustard. You walk into the fellowship hall to the sound of crackling and popping and the smell of hot grease wafting through the air. Every politician knows you eat white bread with fried fish, but they’re also aware that white bread sticks to your teeth and the roof of your mouth like glue. If you’re an elected official, the thing you don’t want to do is get that white bread stuck in your teeth. So you need to use your tongue and suck that bread off your teeth very, very hard. A country biscuit might come with your meal, but if you’re at a real country church, you’ll likely be served some liver pudding with the fish and grits.

In the green, light-shot sea along the Oregon coast, bullwhip kelp lean toward land on the incoming tides and swirl seaward as the water falls away, never letting go of their grip on the ocean floor. What keeps each plant in places is a holdfast, a fist of knobby fingers that stick to rock with a glue the plant makes from sunshine and salt water, an invisible bond strong enough to hold against all but the worst winter gales. The holdfast is a structure biologists don’t entirely understand. Philosophers have not even begun to try. I resolve to study holdfasts. What will be cling to, in the confusion of the tides? What structures of connection will hold us in place? How will we find an attachment to the natural world that makes us feel safe and fully alive, here, at the edge of water?

We laughed and laughed and passed the bong around each other taking turns to burn our lungs. The room was smokier than ever before and it was late in the afternoon when I realised I was stuck. I was stuck to the sofa like glue. My whole body sank deeper and deeper into the material. My blood felt like liquid lead in my limbs as if lifting my arm could not be possible without a powerful crane. My mind drifted to the big cranes you see on building sites and I imagined it attempting to lift my arm as it buckled under the weight. I closed my eyes unable to hold my eyelids open anymore. My body sank even deeper as if the sofa was melting chocolate and my body heat was melting it beneath me. It began to feel like thick treacle beneath me as if it would stick to me making it harder for me to move or get up then I felt his hand again.

Like charges, charges of the same sign, strongly repel one another. We can think of it as a dedicated mutual aversion to their own kind, a little as if the world were densely populated by anchorites and misanthropes. Electrons repel electrons. Protons repel protons. So how can a nucleus stick together? Why does it not instantly fly apart? Because there is another force of nature: not gravity, not electricity, but the short-range nuclear force, which, like a set of hooks that engage only when protons and neutrons come very close together, thereby overcomes the electrical repulsion among the protons. The neutrons, which contribute nuclear forces of attraction and no electrical forces of repulsion, provide a kind of glue that helps to hold the nucleus together. Longing for solitude, the hermits have been chained to their grumpy fellows and set among others given to indiscriminate and voluble amiability.

See, for the Kuri Kinton chestnuts, I used prepackaged boiled sweet potatoes! I simmered them in some orange juice and then mashed them until they were smooth. Normal Kuri Kinton use gardenia fruit to give the chestnuts an orange color, but I swapped those out for sweet potatoes and orange juice... ... making mine more of a Joke Kuri Kinton! The rolled omelet is made of egg and Hanpen fish cakes I found near the Oden ! I blended it all in a food processor with some salt and sugar before cooking it in an omelet pan. Red-and-White Salad! Seasoning regular salad veggies with salt, sugar and vinegar turns them into a Red-and-White Salad! Salting the veggies ahead of time draws out moisture, making them crispier and allowing them to soak up more sweet vinegar. Checkered Prosciutto Rolls! I just wrapped some snack-cup precut carrot and daikon sticks in prosciutto strips and voilà! A little honey and mustard dabbed inside the prosciutto works as a glue to hold it all together.

She wasn’t sure when she realized that she wasn’t alone. She’d heard a louder murmur from the crowd outside, but she hadn’t connected it with the door opening. She looked over her shoulder and saw Tate standing against the back wall. He was wearing one of those Armani suits that looked so splendid on his lithe build, and he had his trenchcoat over one arm. He was leaning back, glaring at the ceremony. Something was different about him, but Cecily couldn’t think what. It wasn’t the vivid bruise high up on his cheek where Matt had hit him. But it was something…Then it dawned on her. His hair was cut short, like her own. He glared at her. Cecily wasn’t going to cower in her seat and let him think she was afraid to face him. Mindful of the solemnity of the occasion, she got up and joined Tate by the door. “So you actually came. Bruises and all,” she whispered with a faintly mocking smile, eyeing the very prominent green-and-yellow patch on his jaw that Matt Holden had put there. He looked down at her from turbulent black eyes. He didn’t reply for a minute while he studied her, taking in the differences in her appearance, too. His eyes narrowed on her short hair. She thought his eyelids flinched, but it might have been the light. His eyes went back to the ceremony. He didn’t say another word. He didn’t really need to. He’d cut his hair. In his culture-the one that part of him still belonged to-cutting the hair was a sign of grief. She could feel the way it was hurting him to know that the people he loved most in the world had lied to him. She wanted to tell him that the pain would ease day by day, that it was better to know the truth than go through life living a lie. She wanted to tell him that having a foot in two cultures wasn’t the end of the world. But he stood there like a painted stone statue, his jaw so tense that the muscles in it were noticeable. He refused to acknowledge her presence at all. “Congratulations on your engagement, by the way,” she said without a trace of bitterness in her tone. “I’m very happy for you.” His eyes met hers evenly. “That isn’t what you told the press,” he said in a cold undertone. “I’m amazed that you’d go to such lengths to get back at me.” “What lengths?” she asked. “Planting that story in the tabloids,” he returned. “I could hate you for that.” The teenage sex slave story, she guessed. She glared back at him. “And I could hate you, for believing I would do something so underhanded,” she returned. He scowled down at her. The anger he felt was almost tangible. She’d sold him out in every way possible and now she’d embarrassed him publicly, again, first by confessing to the media that she’d been his teenage lover-a load of bull if ever there was one. Then she’d compounded it by adding that he was marrying Audrey at Christmas. He wondered how she could be so vindictive. Audrey was sticking to him like glue and she’d told everyone about the wedding. Not that many people hadn’t read it already in the papers. He felt sick all over. He wouldn’t have Audrey at any price. Not that he was about to confess that to Cecily now, after she’d sold him out. He started to speak, but he thought better of it, and turned his angry eyes back toward the couple at the altar. After a minute, Cecily turned and went back to her seat. She didn’t look at him again.

You are God. You want to make a forest, something to hold the soil, lock up energy, and give off oxygen. Wouldn’t it be simpler just to rough in a slab of chemicals, a green acre of goo? You are a man, a retired railroad worker who makes replicas as a hobby. You decide to make a replica of one tree, the longleaf pine your great-grandfather planted- just a replica- it doesn’t have to work. How are you going to do it? How long do you think you might live, how good is your glue? For one thing, you are going to have to dig a hole and stick your replica trunk halfway to China if you want the thing to stand up. Because you will have to work fairly big; if your replica is too small, you’ll be unable to handle the slender, three-sided needles, affix them in clusters of three in fascicles, and attach those laden fascicles to flexible twigs. The twigs themselves must be covered by “many silvery-white, fringed, long-spreading scales.” Are your pine cones’ scales “thin, flat, rounded at the apex?” When you loose the lashed copper wire trussing the limbs to the trunk, the whole tree collapses like an umbrella. You are a sculptor. You climb a great ladder; you pour grease all over a growing longleaf pine. Next, you build a hollow cylinder around the entire pine…and pour wet plaster over and inside the pine. Now open the walls, split the plaster, saw down the tree, remove it, discard, and your intricate sculpture is ready: this is the shape of part of the air. You are a chloroplast moving in water heaved one hundred feet above ground. Hydrogen, carbon, oxygen, nitrogen in a ring around magnesium…you are evolution; you have only begun to make trees. You are god- are you tired? Finished?

If I was going to make Betsy happy, I’d have to trust that my flaws were the ways through which I would receive grace. We don’t think of our flaws as the glue that binds us to the people we love, but they are. Grace only sticks to our imperfections. Those who can’t accept their imperfections can’t accept grace either.

weresupposed

Office and Classroom Tools—Have the child cut with scissors; use a stapler and hole puncher; draw with crayons and chalk; paint with brushes, feathers, sticks, and eyedroppers; squeeze glue onto paper in letters or designs, sprinkle sparkles on the glue, and shake off the excess; and wrap boxes with brown paper, tape, and string. MOTOR PLANNING Jumping from a Table—Place a gym mat beside a low table and encourage the child to jump. After each landing, stick tape on the mat to mark the spot. Encourage the child to jump farther each time. Walking Like Animals—Encourage the child to lumber like a bear, on all fours; a crab, from side to side on all fours; a turtle, creeping; a snake, crawling; an inchworm, by stretching flat and pulling her knees toward her chest; an ostrich, while grasping her ankles; a duck, squatting; a frog, squatting and jumping; a kangaroo or bunny, jumping; a lame dog, with an “injured” leg; a gorilla, bending her knees; a horse, galloping. Playground Games—Remember Simon Says, Ring-Around-the-Rosy, The Hokey-Pokey, London Bridge, Shoo Fly, and Mother, May I? Insy-Outsy—Teach the child to get in and out of clothes, the front door, and the car. With a little help, the child may become able to perform these tasks independently, even if it takes a long time!

Fat raindrops splattered across the front of Cass’s dress as the skies opened up in a sudden downpour. Cass ducked quickly inside a nearby arched doorway, pressing her body tightly to the stone to protect herself from the drizzle. Falco squeezed into the arch next to her, his longish hair damp and sticking to his face. “You’re wet,” she said, instinctively pushing a strand of brown away from his left eye. “Very observant,” he remarked. “I see those private tutors are really paying off.” Cass poked him in the side with her elbow. Even half soaked, Falco seemed to be radiating heat. Cass wished another lock of hair would glue itself to his skin so she could touch him again. She felt close to him, yet miles away at the same time. It was as if what she wanted was on the horizon, but kept disappearing like a mirage.

You didn’t lift your head. I reached forward and scooped a clump of falling hair, tucked it behind your ear. Such soft, fine hair. Hairclips never stayed in place for long. ‘I’ll get some glue. When you’ve finished colouring, we’ll cut out together and I’ll show you how to stick tissue paper on the back so light shines through.

That's the thing about the broken ones- they're never too far beyond repair, even though it might seem that way. They just need a little glue and the right pair of hands to stick 'em back together.

While she was gone, since I was already sending her letters every day, I ordered envelopes that had her address on them and little stickers that had my return address that I’d stick on the envelopes. I didn’t stop there. I also ordered some stamps that were a picture of her and me. Even though I sent the letters every day, some days she would get several at a time. Each letter I wrote was several pages long, so I’d take one page and I’d glue one stick of gum in the middle and fold it up. So she could have the gum they weren’t allowed. She said she would chew on it at night in bed. I had experienced enough of that world to know those little things mattered. I knew exactly what her days were like and how hard they were. She was getting so much mail that when they called out names to pass out the mail, they’d just toss Jamie’s on the ground and she’d have to pick it up. And they made fun of the envelopes with the stamps I’d had made. But she got all her mail. She was at Fort Leonard Wood for six months--from October until March. I made sure she got tons of mail the whole time. But this also meant she would be there on Valentine’s Day. I made sure that she felt loved on that day. I bought her a Valentine’s Day card and enclosed a chocolate bar in that letter. The card read: Jamie, we can’t be together for Valentine’s Day, so I came up with a way to at least show you how much you are loved. Valentine’s Day is twenty-four hours long. So expect twenty-four separate packages with a card and chocolate. I’m so proud of you. Love always and forever, Noah.

Let’s say each one of these glue sticks is a wheel,

I am a solider in my mind Dodging venom time after time You spat at me for helping the blue Perhaps try walking a mile in their shoes Before casting judgment, picture their days Constantly threatened for a badge they display We are strong The sisters in blue Sticking to what is just like glue

I looked under all the bushes, and up the tree, but I couldn’t find the baby. I’d lost the baby. Losing a baby is bad. I panicked. I ran inside and took a potato from the kitchen. From under my bed I scooped up lots of fluff and dust bunnies and stuck them to the top of the potato with my glue stick. I drew a face on the potato. I ran outside and put the potato-baby in the carriage. Maybe Mrs Whitman wouldn’t notice that it wasn’t her baby.

Our people” would stick like glue to every Russian, Ukrainian, Pole, or Bulgarian they met, feeling an our-like bond with them.

This new sense of personal awareness also comes with many added social accessories (batteries included). Adolescent insecurity can be a devastating plague for a youngster, especially ones whose bodies are growing faster than their emotional and social maturity. One misstep can spell disaster from which recovery is next to impossible. Drop your books in the hall once between classes. Trip going up the school steps. Let a facial blemish emerge on the wrong day. Your voice cracks in class while asking a question. Suffer through the accusation of liking someone of the opposite sex. And pray hard that you don't wear the wrong clothes to your first dance. All these near-fatal mishaps can mark you forever in your classmates' eyes, socially branding you with a label that sticks like super-glue throughout your grade-school career. Most adults can recall childhood classmates from their childhood who failed to make the grade socially. Even today, though a former classmate may be a physician, she is still remembered for the time she cried and ran off stage during the school talent show. Or the successful businessman is forever known as the boy who wet his pants and had to go home early from school. We can still name the girl who always sat out during recess games because she was athletically uncoordinated.

The past stays with a man, sticking to his heels like glue, invisible and heartbreaking and unavoidable, threaded to the future, just as surely as day is sewn to night.

Even glue that is spread too thin does not stick

Luke,” he mutters, and yeah, I notice that he remembers my name. How could he not? I’m memorable. I force my way into people’s brains and stick like glue.

Sometimes I wonder about glue. No one ever stops to ask glue how it’s holding up. If it’s tired of sticking things together or worried about falling apart or wondering how it will pay its bills next week. Kenji is kind of like that.

But as the years have passed, I’ve found that while others might be the best at hunting, or fishing, or even healing, I have my spot. I’ve appointed myself the unofficial glue of the tribe. I’m the one that brings spirits up. I suggest celebrations or feasts. Steph might be the actual counselor, but I share gossip and stick to those that look like they need a friend, and basically clown around to bring smiles to the group when people seem down.

the memories that held the firmest seemed to stick because of a glue made of pain, and remorse.

All atomic nuclei are composed of two types of particles: protons and their electrically neutral partners, neutrons. If a nucleus has too many of one type or the other, then the rules of quantum mechanics dictate that the balance has to be redressed and those excess particles will change into the other form: protons will become neutrons, or neutrons protons, via a process called beta-decay. This is precisely what happens when two protons come together: a composite of two protons cannot exist and one of them will beta-decay into a neutron. The remaining proton and the newly transformed neutron can then bind together to form an object called a deuteron (the nucleus of an atom of the heavy hydrogen isotopefn3 called deuterium), after which further nuclear reactions enable the building of the more complex nuclei of other elements heavier than hydrogen, from helium (with two protons and either one or two neutrons) through to carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and so on. The key point is that the deuteron owes its existence to its ability to exist in two states simultaneously, by virtue of quantum superposition. This is because the proton and neutron can stick together in two different ways that are distinguished by how they spin. We will see later how this concept of ‘quantum spin’ is actually very different from the familiar spin of a big object, such as a tennis ball; but for now we will go with our classical intuition of a spinning particle and imagine both the proton and the neutron spinning together within the deuteron in a carefully choreographed combination of a slow, intimate waltz and a faster jive. It was discovered back in the late 1930s that within the deuteron these two particles are not dancing together in either one or the other of these two states, but in both states at the same time – they are in a blur of waltz and jive simultaneously – and it is this that enables them to bind together.fn4 An obvious response to this statement is: ‘How do we know?’ Surely, atomic nuclei are far too small to be seen, so might it not be more reasonable to assume that there is something missing in our understanding of nuclear forces? The answer is no, for it has been confirmed in many laboratories over and over again that if the proton and neutron were performing the equivalent of either a quantum waltz or a quantum jive, then the nuclear ‘glue’ between them would not be quite strong enough to bind them together; it is only when these two states are superimposed on top of each other – the two realities existing at the same time – that the binding force is strong enough. Think of the two superposed realities as a little like mixing two coloured paints, blue and yellow, to make a combined resultant colour, green. Although you know the green is made up of the two primary constituent colours, it is neither one nor the other. And different ratios of blue and yellow will make different shades of green. Likewise, the deuteron binds when the proton and neutron are mostly locked in a waltz, with just a tiny amount of jive thrown in. So

Your past made you the man I fell in love with, and nothing is going to change that.” Odin tensed as Kylen said those words. “I know that scares you, but it’s true. I love you and I won’t let you push me away forever. I am here and I will always be here. I will be the glue that sticks your broken pieces back together.” Odin

More than money, talent, or your number of contacts, your capacity to create mutuality with others can transform you into a sought-after Opportunity Maker with whom people most want to align. Be the glue that sticks the right teams together to solve problems or seize opportunities sooner and better together.

atom, which another atom with an abundance of electrons would stick to as if with glue. Some molecules dissolved in fat rather than water. Inside an oily environment, two chemicals might join together, though such bonds were usually weak. For Zimmermann, these hidden worlds held endless possibilities. Combining molecules together in various ways had led to the creation of plastic, of countless medications, of every synthetic substance. The manmade world was made of chemistry. So was the natural world, for that matter. Surely, Zimmermann thought, there was a way to manipulate some molecules into a kinase-inhibiting drug. The challenge lay in more than creating the perfect shape. To be a good inhibitor, the compound also had to stick to the kinase. Creating that

When he came out into the yard he stayed on the edge of a group of boys. They were pushing each other and being loud and he was trying to attach himself to them, just sort of walking along a little behind them, trying to find a glue he was just discovering he didn’t have. I didn’t have it either. Go down to any schoolyard at breaktime and look in and you’ll see. You’ll see the ones who have no Human Glue, who run out the first day with this perfect unrumpled optimism and trust, who still think of every boy and girl as their undiscovered friend and believe What Fun We’ll Have. And then, in the schoolyard, day one, there’s someone sprung from evil genes like Michael Mooney or Hen genes like Jane Brouder and they feel something off you, feel that field of difference you don’t even know you’re giving off, and boom you’re out, you can’t stick on. The group runs down the yard and you run too but it’s like the signal was given on a wavelength you didn’t receive in time so you’re a few steps back. Look at the pictures of Aeney’s class. You’ll see. It’s like he’s been photoshopped in and there’s this clean line around him, no Human Glue.

Mac’s Mac N’ Cheese One box of elbow macaroni (cooked and drained) 1/2 cup of sour cream 1 cup of milk 1 can of Campbell's condensed cheese soup 1 ½ cups of (orange) cheddar cheese, 1 1/2 cups of white sharp cheddar cheese, grated 2 eggs 1 teaspoon of ground mustard 1 teaspoon of adobo or seasoned salt ½ tsp pepper ¼ cup parmesan cheese 3 tablespoons of butter Boil pasta for six minutes, then drain.  The crock pot should be set to high.  Add pasta to crock pot along with grated cheeses, cheddar soup, sour cream, butter, milk and eggs.  Mix all together then add all the seasonings.  If desired, add additional cheese or sour cream.  You can periodically check back to make sure it is not browning too much at the sides.  You can stir every now and again. 2 hours to 2.5 hours on high is pretty near perfection although slow cooker times vary.  You can always check on it and look at the sides.  If they are browning too much you can always turn the temp down to low.  The cheese is very flexible also.  You can use different types of cheese or add more or less depending on your taste.  I once caught Delilah adding more cheddar cheese to the crock pot. I honestly think this is the macaroni and cheese recipe I will stick to like glue.  It is amazing.  And it can be tweaked.  Bacon bits can be added to the mac n cheese.  Add some lobster for a nice seafood lobster mac n’ cheese.  Bread crumbs can be sprinkled over the top at the end.  Or if you want to add some veggies, broccoli can be placed on top as well.  Brandon and Rose added sliced hot dogs for AJ since hotdogs are his favorite.

morality means giving common concerns or the wellbeing of others as much weight as one’s own self-interest. Moral behaviour in this sense can be found in any society, because it is the glue that sticks individuals together and so makes society possible. Indeed, the basis of this morality – altruism – is innate to humans, as many recent studies have shown. Without ever having been told to do so, even toddlers are willing to help and to share with others ["Once and Future Sins," Aeon, March 24, 2015].

Troubles. They stick to skin like glue, like gum to the sole of a shoe. They slide into the crevices of your heart, slither into your veins, and tug at you from the inside until they become something dark and heavy and not so easy to shake. The

But my best friend since kindergarten, since the years of glue sticks and crayons, she was the bitch that started fucking him behind my back once he was the legit paid businessman that he always wanted to be.

Every dependency is like a little dot of glue that causes your class to stick to the things it touches.

♥♥♥ My Guy Nothing you can say, Can take me away, From my guy. Nothing you could do, 'cause I'm stuck like glue, To my guy. I'm sticking to my guy, Like a stamp to a letter, Like birds of a feather, We, stick together, I can tell you from the start, I can't be torn apart from my guy. Nothing you could do, Could make me be untrue, To my guy. (My Guy) Nothing you could buy, Could make me tell a lie, To my guy (My Guy) I gave my guy, My word of honour, To be faithful, And I'm gonna, You'd better be believing, I won't be deceiving, My guy. As a matter of opinion, I think he's tops, My opinion is, He's the cream of the crop, As a matter of taste, To be exact, He's my ideal, As a matter of fact. No muscle bound man, Could take my hand, From my guy. (My guy) No handsome face, Could ever take the place, Of my guy, (My guy) He may not be a movie star, But when it comes to being happy, We are, There's not a man today, Who can take me away, From my guy. No muscle bound man, Could take my hand, From my guy. (My guy) No handsome face, Could ever take the place, Of my guy, (My guy) He may not be a movie star, But when it comes to being happy, We are, There's not a man today, Who can take me away, From my guy. (what'cha say?) There's not a man today, Who could take me away, From my guy. (Tell me more!) There's not a man today, Who could take me away, From my guy.

My Guy Nothing you could say Can tear me away from my guy Nothing you could do 'Cause I'm stuck like glue to my guy I'm stickin' to my guy Like a stamp to a letter Like the birds of a feather We stick together I'm tellin' you from the start I can't be torn apart from my guy Nothing you can do Could make me untrue to my guy Nothing you could buy Could make me tell a lie to my guy I gave my guy my word of honor To be faithful and I'm gonna You best be believing I won't be deceiving my guy As a matter of opinion I think he's tops My opinion is he's the cream of the crop As a matter of taste to be exact He's my ideal as a matter of fact No muscle bound man Could take my hand from my guy No handsome face Could ever take the place of my guy He may not be a movie star But when it comes to being happy we are There's not a man today Who could take me away from my guy No muscle bound man Could take my hand from my guy No handsome face Could ever take the place of my guy He may not be a movie star But when it comes to being happy we are There's not a man today Who could take me away from my guy There's not a man today Who could take me away from my guy (Tell me more) There's not a man today Who could take me away from my guy

my flaws were the ways through which I would receive grace. We don’t think of our flaws as the glue that binds us to the people we love, but they are. Grace only sticks to our imperfections. Those who can’t accept their imperfections can’t accept grace either.

Sophie Bushwick/Popular Science 7/16-inch inner diameter ribbed hose 5/16-inch wood dowel 1/4-inch outer diameter vinyl tubing Small hose clamps Five 1/4-inch hose barbs x 1/4-inch male threaded adapters Five 1/4-inch hose barbs x 1/4-inch female threaded adapters Electrical tape Yellow Teflon thread tape Several long balloons (type 350Q) 1-inch x 6-inch board or other support Fluidic control board Robot Hand Instructions 1. Insert the 5/16-inch dowel into the ribbed hose to hold it straight. Use the center punch to carefully punch holes between each rib in a line along the seam of the hose. Flip the hose over and repeat along other seam. (Photo ) 2. Use the drill press to drill a hole at each center-punched location between the hose ribs, leaving the dowel in place to provide support. It is best to drill the holes on each side of the hose separately, rather than drill straight through. When you are done you should have a neat line of holes on each side of the ribbed hose. These holes will act as a stress relief and prevent the hose from splitting when it is flexed. (Photo ) 3. Remove the dowel and cut the hose into five 3-inch fingers with the utility knife. For each finger, use the utility knife to very carefully cut between each rib from the hole on one side to the hole on the other. Leave the first two ribs on each end uncut. Cut through one side of the hose only. It is critical that you do not nick the far side of the stress relief holes or you will reduce the reliability of the finger dramatically. Now the hose can flex in one direction more than in the opposite direction. (Photo ) 4. Insert another piece of dowel into one of the long balloons. Use it to gently feed the balloon into one of the fingers until the end of the balloon sticks out enough to grab it. Remove the dowel, and fold about 1/4-inch of the balloon tip over the rim of the hose. Secure it by wrapping a piece of electrical tape all the way around the tip of the finger. (Photo ) 5. Now feed the dowel back inside the finger from the non-taped end, but on the outside of the balloon. Insert it until it is just within two ribs of the tip of the finger. Fill the tip of the finger with hot glue, allow to cool, and then carefully remove the dowel. 6. Use electrical tape over the end of the finger, covering the hot-glued end. Another wrap of electrical tape over this will seal the end of the finger. (Photo ) 7. Cut the open end of the balloon away, leaving about an inch beyond the end of the finger. Stretch the open end of the balloon out and over the end of the finger. (Photo ) 8. Repeat steps 4 through 7 for each finger. (Photo ) 9. Use the yellow Teflon tape to wrap the threads on each of the male hose barbs. Thread each male hose barb onto each female hose barb and tighten firmly with the crescent wrenches. Then use more yellow Teflon tape and wrap each female hose barb several times around. The ends of these hose barbs should fit snugly into the open ends of each finger. (Photo ) 10. Use the small hose clamps to affix each finger onto the Teflon wrapped ends of the five hose barbs. (Photo ) 11. Now use hot glue to firmly attach each finger to the end of the 1x6-inch board (or other support) to form a hand. Finally, attach a length of 1/4-inch O.D. vinyl hose to the open hose barb on each finger. (Photo ) 12. Now the hand is complete--but it still needs a control system. Check out Harvard’s Soft Robotics Toolkit for inspiration, or just follow the instructions below. Building The

Find a strong glue and stick yourself to honesty! You shall feel like a wind, so light and so free!

ay cheese!" If you're like most women I know, you have at least one family and friends photo area in your home. My entire home is practically a photo gallery! Walls, tabletops, and my refrigerator door are all crowded with the faces of people I love. My husband, Bob, my children, grandchildren, new friends, old friends you name 'em and I've displayed 'em. How precious are these gatherings of faces to us. And it's so fitting, isn't it? Because our family and friends' pictures tell the story of their lives.. .and ours! Cherish your family and friends and those priceless moments. Hold them close. Seek out your friends and enjoy their company more often. Treasure their faces, their characteristics, their uniqueness. But also make room for new people.. .and add them to the gallery in your heart. ant to hold a spring garden party? It can be a birthday, a graduation, or just a celebration. For invitations, glue inexpensive packets of seeds to index cards and write in your party information. Pass them out or stick them in envelopes and mail them. Decorate a picnic table with an umbrella and bright floral sheets or vinyl cloths. Why not decorate the awnings and porch posts to make it even more festive? Flowers, flowers, and flowers everywhere create a bright, aromatic space. If you're limber and energetic or you're inviting kids, spread sheets on the ground for an authentic, old-fashioned picnic. A little red wagon or painted tub with a potted plant makes a fun off-to-the-side "centerpiece." Use a clean watering can for your lemonade pitcher. Engage your imagination and have fun entertaining.

eed a gift box? Cover shoe boxes with wrapping paper. Fill them with stationery, a glue stick, small scissors, paper clips, marking pens, memo pads, and thank you notes. You can even add stamps. Any mom, dad, grandparent, or teacher would love such a gift. y motto is "Always be ready for a party." When party supplies go on sale, I stock up. Colored plates, napkins, streamers, little gifts, even party hats. And here's a tip. When you buy candles to use later, store them in your freezer. It helps them burn longer and cleaner. Keep a roll of cookie dough in your freezer, some scone mix in the pantry, and some of those great instant coffees so you'll be ready at any party opportunity. There's nothing like a spontaneous celebration to warm hearts. When you're ready, a party can happen in just a few minutes. You'll be creating memories you and your family and friends will cherish forever.

Rachel Renée Russell is an attorney who prefers writing tween books to legal briefs. (Mainly because books are a lot more fun and pajamas and bunny slippers aren’t allowed in court.) She has raised two daughters and lived to tell about it. Her hobbies include growing purple flowers and doing totally useless crafts (like, for example, making a microwave oven out of Popsicle sticks, glue, and glitter). Rachel lives in northern Virginia with a spoiled pet Yorkie who terrorizes her daily by climbing on top of a computer cabinet and pelting her with stuffed animals while she writes. And, yes, Rachel considers herself a total Dork. Visit

listen to me. when something breaks you, you pick up the pieces and put yourself back together. maybe it’s with stitches and glue sticks, but it’s enough to keep going. nobody needs to stay broken.

There is only one age for anyone. I was and am, will always be fifty-eight. But you. Be careful what age you end up. It sticks to you. It seals you shut. The age you choose is like glue, it sets around you.

Instead of, “You left the cap off the glue stick again. Great!” Give information: “Glue sticks dry out very quickly when they’re not capped.

I'm mooring my rowboat / at the dock of the island called God. / This dock is made in the shape of a fish / and there are many boats moored / at many different docks. / 'It's okay,' I say to myself / with blisters that broke and healed / and broke and healed -- / saving themselves over and over. / And salt sticking to my face and arms like / a glue-skin pocked with grains of tapioca. / I empty myself from my wooden boat / and onto the flesh of The Island. 'On with it!' He says and thus / we squat on the rocks by the sea / and play - can it be true - / a game of poker. / He calls me. / I win because I hold a royal straight flush. / He wins because He holds five aces, / A wild card had been announced / but I had not heard it / being in such a state of awe / when he took out the cards and dealt. / As he plunks down his five aces / and I am still grinning at my royal flush, / He starts to laugh, / and laughter rolling like a hoop out of His mouth / and into mine / and such laughter that He doubles right over me / laughing a Rejoice-Chorus at our two triumphs. / Then I laugh, the fishy dock laughs / the sea laughs. The Island laughs. / The Absurd laughs. Dearest dealer, / I with my royal straight flush, / love you so for your wild card, / that untamable, eternal, gut-driven ha-ha / and lucky love.

Aruvi headed to the ice cream shop and got wooden sticks. She could glue these together to make beautiful Christmas stars

she suffered from bookhalos, a term she’d coined when a book would stick to her soul like glue after finishing it.

Ista Aquascaping Instant Glue 4g(I-814) | Aquarium Instant Glue | Underwater Glue | Aquarium Scaping Glue | NMS Aquatics FEATURES: Bonds within seconds. Nontoxic and safe for plants and animals. Works perfectly even underwater. Can be used for any plastics repairs. Ista Aquascaping Instant Glue 4g(I-814) No harm to plants and animals, easily stick and fix plants no hardscape works perfectly underwater. No more time-consuming on typing Moss. Gel form can be used on driftwood, stones, and another hardscape.

However, dumbass, some people should use a glue stick instead of Chapstick.

I think after she tore it up, Sunny thought the song was lost for good. But some things are forever . . . like the story about that time in kindergarten when you got caught eating a glue stick . . . or that permanent marker stain you accidentally put on your teacher’s dry-erase board . . . or your red-haired best friend and the lyrics she inspired.

She placed her hands flat on the desk, kept her spine straight, and shoved her ass in the air. She looked across the desk. Now she could see what was in the bag he’d taken out of his coat. The clear plastic plug and tube of lubricant were unmistakable. “You came prepared.” At least he wasn’t going to use a highlighter or a glue stick.

The other day, my girlfriend asked me to pass her lipstick but I accidentally passed her a glue stick. She still isn't talking to me. Why

Halsey Holmes, center, the best hands on the ice, can snap a puck off the stick so fast you don’t even realize he attempted to score until the buzzer is sounding off. He holds the record for most goals and assists. He’s the glue that holds the team together on the ice, even though he’s falling apart off the ice.

Interesting confusions: Can you cry under water? Do fishes ever get thirsty? Why don’t birds fall off trees when they sleep? When they say dogs food is new and improved, who tastes it? Why does round pizza come in a square box? Why doesn’t glue stick to its bottle?” -- Unknown

Or they might, like, glue them onto a stick and make a gnarly weapon,” Elise suggested.

I’m rubber and you’re glue, and whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.

Double boiler or warmer designed for melting wax Food grade thermometer Kitchen scale Dipping can (for tapers) Ladle (for pouring candles) Dowels or bamboo sticks (for supporting the wick while the candle is hardening) Wicking tool or wicking needle (for molded candles) Wick weights (for container candles) Rack to hang dipped candles Mold releasing agent Silicone sealant Cookie sheets or silicone mats to work on Oven mitts UV inhibitor (to prevent discoloration) Glue gun Baking paper