Gold Foil Quotes

It was quite the most incredible event that has ever happened to me in my life. It was almost as incredible as if you fired a 15-inch shell at a piece of tissue paper and it came back and hit you. [Recalling in 1936 the discovery of the nucleus in 1909, when some alpha particles were observed instead of travelling through a very thin gold foil were seen to rebound backward, as if striking something much more massive than the particles themselves. He won the Nobel Prize in Chemistry for this discovery.]

The best place to hide gold coins is in a treasure chest filled with those circular chocolates that are coin-sized and wrapped in gold foil. That’ll foil any thief.

In one corner of the room are an array of small prints of the birds with gold foil laid painstakingly into individual feathers. This is not a room; it is a menagerie, and standing in the midst of it, I am one of its birds. Beside me at the door, Qamar is weeping, and I am trembling like a person in snow. One day, someone will try to explain us as they once tried to explain this, and they will not have the words.

Our lives were covered in gold foil, but if you scratched hard enough, you’d see the rust underneath.

Now it rests on a gold foil chest, next to a single iris in a fluted vase. Something about the flower beckons me to study it. The arrangement is perfectly framed against the silk tapestry behind it. The purple petals are simple but elegant. Its placement here seems deliberate, almost ceremonial.

For decades, aluminum was much more expensive than gold. In the 1860s, Emperor Napoleon III commissioned aluminum cutlery to be laid out for his most distinguished guests. Less important visitors had to make do with the gold knives and forks .... (He) would be surprised to learn that his subject’s descendants use cheap aluminum foil to wrap their sandwiches and put away their leftovers.

BEFORE THE TREE HOUSE WAS A RECORDING STUDIO FOR PODCASTS, IT WAS:* A grotto for mermaids and mermen. Piles of seashells. Buckets of sand from our old sand table. Fabric in shades of blue hanging everywhere. A fairy house. Shimmer fabric in shades of pink, yellow, and green. Tissue-paper flowers. Cutout butterflies with huge googly eyes. The boxcar from the Boxcar Children books. Spoons, tin plates, a knapsack, crackers, and plain cookies. Red-and-white-checked fabric for the windows. A keep. Cardboard swords wrapped in foil. Many, many of them. The Gryffindor common room. Red and gold, with wands made out of repurposed foil swords.

Bruno reappeared with two baskets swathed in white linen napkins and a ramekin of something bright yellow. Thatcher unveiled one basket. "Pretzel bread," he said. He held up a thick braid of what looked to be soft pretzel, nicely tanned, sprinkled with coarse salt. "This is served with Fee's homemade mustard. So right away the guest knows this isn't a run-of-the-mill restaurant. They're not getting half a cold baguette here, folks, with butter in the gold foil wrapper. This is warm pretzel bread made on the premises, and the mustard ditto. Nine out of ten tables are licking the ramekin clean." He handed the bread basket to a waiter with a blond ponytail (male- everyone at the table was male except for Adrienne, Caren, and the young bar back who was hanging on to Duncan's arm). The ponytailed waiter- name?- tore off a hunk of bread and dipped it in the mustard. He rolled his eyes like he was having an orgasm. The appropriate response, Adrienne thought. But remembering her breakfast she guessed he wasn't faking it. "The other basket contains our world-famous savory doughnuts," Thatcher said. He whipped the cloth off like a magician, revealing six golden-brown doughnuts. Doughnuts? Adrienne had been too nervous to think about eating all day, but now her appetite was roused. After the menu meeting, they were going to have family meal. The doughnuts were deep-fried rings of a light, yeasty, herb-flecked dough. Chive, basil, rosemary. Crisp on the outside, soft on the inside. Savory doughnuts. Who wouldn't stand in line for these? Who wouldn't beg or steal to access the private phone line so that they could make a date with these doughnuts?

but do not say thou couldst murder one who only lived for thee! There, there, take the gold; I hoarded it but for thee. Go! go!” and the old man, who in his passion had quitted his bed, fell at the feet of the foiled assassin, and writhed on the ground, — the mental agony more intolerable than that of the body, which he had so lately undergone. The robber looked at him with a hard disdain. “What have I ever done to thee, wretch?” cried the old man,— “what but loved and cherished thee? Thou wert an orphan, — an outcast. I nurtured, nursed, adopted thee as my son. If men call me a miser, it was but that none might despise thee, my heir, because Nature has stunted and deformed thee, when I was no more. Thou wouldst have had all when I was dead. Couldst thou not spare me a few months or days, — nothing to thy youth, all that is left to my age? What have I done to thee?

The fact that there were more adults than children at her party didn't seem to faze Dixie. "That child is like a dandelion," Lettie said. "She could grow through concrete." Dixie's birthday party had a combination Mardi Gras/funeral wake feel to it. Mr. Bennett and Digger looped and twirled pink crepe paper streamers all around the white graveside tent until it looked like a candy-cane castle. Leo Stinson scrubbed one of his ponies and gave pony rides. Red McHenry, the florist's son, made a unicorn's horn out of flower foam wrapped with gold foil, and strapped it to the horse's head. "Had no idea that horse was white," Leo said, as they stood back and admired their work. Angela, wearing an old, satin, off-the-shoulder hoop gown she'd found in the attic, greeted each guest with strings of beads, while Dixie, wearing peach-colored fairy wings, passed out velvet jester hats. Charlotte, who never quite grasped the concept of eating while sitting on the ground, had her driver bring a rocking chair from the front porch. Mr. Nalls set the chair beside Eli's statue where Charlotte barked orders like a general. "Don't put the food table under the oak tree!" she commanded, waving her arm. "We'll have acorns in the potato salad!" Lettie kept the glasses full and between KyAnn Merriweather and Dot Wyatt there was enough food to have fed Eli's entire regiment. Potato salad, coleslaw, deviled eggs, bread and butter pickles, green beans, fried corn, spiced pears, apple dumplings, and one of every animal species, pork barbecue, fried chicken, beef ribs, and cold country ham as far as the eye could see.

What isn't seen at all, anywhere: contraception a female can use. I didn't even notice this until my own cousin Savannah pointed it out when she and her family were visiting, bringing the news from another foreign land (Oregon). Apparently, there, even if she's underage, and even if she's unmarried, a female can just get birth control. Here, if you're not married before you're eighteen, you need to be brave enough to tell your parents you want pills or whatever, and they have to be brave enough to tell your doctor. But, hey, the dudes can protect themselves. With options, Savannah had said, pointing to the wide choice of condoms, purple foil, gold, red cellophane, ribbed, glow-in-the-dark, even.

The helium nucleus, for example, contains two protons and two neutrons. If the neutrons were not there, the electrical repulsion between the protons would overcome the strong binding force. However if two neutrons are also present, the binding force is increased (because there are now four nucleons), while the electrical repulsion between the protons is weakened because they are not as close together. The result is a stable helium nucleus-also known as an alpha particle (the same radiation used by Rutherford in his gold foil experiment). If more protons are present, as in the heavier elements, more neutrons are needed to dilute the increasingly large repulsive force. This is why in most atoms the neutrons outnumber the protons. However if there are too many neutrons the nucleus will break down for a reason known as the Pauli Exclusion Principle (See Chap. 6).

He brought over a gold box and opened it. Inside were chocolates wrapped in foil. Billy sat down close to me. “Life,” he said, “is like a box of bonbons. Some dark with chocolate filling; some with cherries. But you never know till you open the silver wrapper what life holds for you.” He held my hand and squeezed it. I squeezed back.

all the times I’ve had sex, and it seems like every memory has gold and silver condom wrappers, like chocolates covered in golden foil to look like coins, that the boys leave behind once they get up, once we pull apart. This is what I’m thinking when I see the woman laying half in the road, half in the grass.

Guiltily, I scooped up his [Faziz's] blade and cradled it like another man's child. Light and perfectly balanced.. Gold-foil hunting cats stamped on the red leather of the hilt. A true masterpiece.. Only the dragons' sword, War's closest possession to a holy relic, could match it for living, deadly potential. "Did you steal this from a museum?" "Probably.

As you begin to read, ask Holy Spirit to read it to you.

Let your heart embrace Him, and allow Him lift you into your place of expressing His divine nature.

There was a bustle of people in the street as I made my way to La Bonbonnière, which is, quite simply, the most beautiful candy store in the world. The best thing about La Bonbonnière is that it's all windows. Before I even walk through the door I am greeted by a fuzzy three-foot-high statue of a polar bear trying to dip his paws into a copper cauldron filled with marrons glacés--- whole candied chestnuts. Each one was meticulously wrapped in gold foil, a miniature gift in and of itself. If nothing else, Christmas in Provence reminds you of a time when sugar was a luxury as fine and rare as silk. Back to my assignment: I needed two kinds of nougat: white soft nougat made with honey, almonds, and fluffy egg whites (the angel's part) and hard dark nougat--- more like honey almond brittle--- for the devil. Where are the calissons d'Aix? There they are, hiding behind the cash register, small ovals of almond paste covered with fondant icing. Traditional calissons are flavored with essence of bitter almond, but I couldn't resist some of the more exotic variations: rose, lemon verbena, and génépi, an astringent mountain herb. Though I love the tender chew of nougat and the pliant sweetness of marzipan, my favorite of the Provençal Christmas treats is the mendiant--- a small disk of dark or milk chocolate topped with dried fruit and nuts representing four religious orders: raisins for the Dominicans, hazelnuts for the Augustinians, dried figs for the Franciscans, and almonds for the Carmelites. When Alexandre is a bit older, I think we'll make these together. They seem like an ideal family project--- essentially puddles of melted chocolate with fruit and nut toppings. See, as soon as you say "puddles of melted chocolate," everyone's on board. Though fruits confits--- candied fruit--- are not, strictly speaking, part of les trieze desserts, I can't resist. I think of them as the crown jewels of French confiserie, and Apt is the world capital of production. Dipped in sugar syrup, the fruits become almost translucent; whole pears, apricots, and strawberries glow from within like the gems in a pirate's treasure chest. Slices of kiwi, melon, and angelica catch the light like the panes of a stained-glass window. All the dazzling tastes of a Provençal summer, frozen in time.

In early 2000, Thiel and Musk were set to meet with Mike Moritz at Sequoia’s office at 2800 Sand Hill Road in Menlo Park to discuss the merger. Musk offered Thiel a lift from Palo Alto. The year before, Musk had purchased a Magnesium Silver McLaren F1, Chassis #067, from Gerd Petrik, a German pharmaceutical executive. A $1 million sports car complete with gull-wing doors and an engine bay encased in gold foil, Musk dubbed the automobile a “work of art” and “a really beautiful piece of engineering.” Even among McLarens, #067 was distinctive—one of only seven McLaren F1s legal to drive in the United States at the time.

For decades the prevailing theory of memory was that all of a person’s experiences were engraved on sheets of gold foil; it was these sheets, torn apart by the force of the blast, that were the source of the tiny flakes found after accidents. Anatomists would collect the bits of gold leaf—so thin that light passes greenly through them—and spend years trying to reconstruct the original sheets, with the hope of eventually deciphering the symbols in which the deceased’s recent experiences were inscribed.

Why don’t we see what the cards have to say?” Gran handed me a handkerchief and rocked back on her heels. I dabbed at my eyes as she shuffled the cards, the same deck she’d been using since I could remember. The gold foil had worn off their backs, but she said that just made them more magical. They gave up a little of themselves and took in a little of us, and with each generation, grew wiser.

After ten years in a Russian prison camp, Schenck revealed the story about methamphetamine, which he repeated in his own memoirs and in interviews until his death in 1998. According to Linge, Hitler took about five of these gold-foiled methamphetamine tablets daily, supplemented by continual sucking on over-the-counter candy, called “Cola-Dalmann,” which contained appreciable doses of caffeine. (Hitler did not drink alcohol, coffee, or tea, however.)

I was studying at Besant Girls’ School at Mangalore. The teachers were also training us in various extracurricular activities. Some of us friends were in the dance and drama training class. Shivarama Karanth was our dance teacher! The appointed day for staging some play was approaching. We were rehearsing hard for the day. That was not the first time I had seen Karanth. Many a time I had been the target of his short temper during our drama rehearsals. I had also argued back with him more than any other student in the class. On this day he had called all the girls to help him in making the costumes and jewellery needed for the play. Lots of gold and silver foils, coloured crepe papers and beads were spread out before him. With his nimble fingers literally dancing, Karanth wielded the scissors to cut out papers and foil, sticking them to create crowns, waistbands, armbands and such other costumes. He was so fast and so deft! I was mesmerised by those artistic hands. In the past, I had argued as well as chatted with him happily, along with my friends, without feeling such an emotion. But this was a very decisive, strange moment in my life. Until then I did not know what I really wanted to possess in my life … On that day, at that moment, I felt I had to possess those magical hands, forever. A strong desire filled my heart to make those hands exclusively mine. Those magical hands began to haunt me day and night after that moment. Being a girl, the only way I could possess them was to marry the man. Traditionally, a girl’s mother is the conduit to carry a daughter’s desires to her father. I wasn’t that fortunate: I had already lost my mother. How I wished my mother were alive! After brooding over my dilemma for two days, I could see no other option than boldly opening my heart to my father.