Gold Roger Quotes

No matter how old you are now. You are never too young or too old for success or going after what you want. Here’s a short list of people who accomplished great things at different ages 1) Helen Keller, at the age of 19 months, became deaf and blind. But that didn’t stop her. She was the first deaf and blind person to earn a Bachelor of Arts degree. 2) Mozart was already competent on keyboard and violin; he composed from the age of 5. 3) Shirley Temple was 6 when she became a movie star on “Bright Eyes.” 4) Anne Frank was 12 when she wrote the diary of Anne Frank. 5) Magnus Carlsen became a chess Grandmaster at the age of 13. 6) Nadia Comăneci was a gymnast from Romania that scored seven perfect 10.0 and won three gold medals at the Olympics at age 14. 7) Tenzin Gyatso was formally recognized as the 14th Dalai Lama in November 1950, at the age of 15. 8) Pele, a soccer superstar, was 17 years old when he won the world cup in 1958 with Brazil. 9) Elvis was a superstar by age 19. 10) John Lennon was 20 years and Paul Mcartney was 18 when the Beatles had their first concert in 1961. 11) Jesse Owens was 22 when he won 4 gold medals in Berlin 1936. 12) Beethoven was a piano virtuoso by age 23 13) Issac Newton wrote Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica at age 24 14) Roger Bannister was 25 when he broke the 4 minute mile record 15) Albert Einstein was 26 when he wrote the theory of relativity 16) Lance E. Armstrong was 27 when he won the tour de France 17) Michelangelo created two of the greatest sculptures “David” and “Pieta” by age 28 18) Alexander the Great, by age 29, had created one of the largest empires of the ancient world 19) J.K. Rowling was 30 years old when she finished the first manuscript of Harry Potter 20) Amelia Earhart was 31 years old when she became the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean 21) Oprah was 32 when she started her talk show, which has become the highest-rated program of its kind 22) Edmund Hillary was 33 when he became the first man to reach Mount Everest 23) Martin Luther King Jr. was 34 when he wrote the speech “I Have a Dream." 24) Marie Curie was 35 years old when she got nominated for a Nobel Prize in Physics 25) The Wright brothers, Orville (32) and Wilbur (36) invented and built the world's first successful airplane and making the first controlled, powered and sustained heavier-than-air human flight 26) Vincent Van Gogh was 37 when he died virtually unknown, yet his paintings today are worth millions. 27) Neil Armstrong was 38 when he became the first man to set foot on the moon. 28) Mark Twain was 40 when he wrote "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer", and 49 years old when he wrote "Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" 29) Christopher Columbus was 41 when he discovered the Americas 30) Rosa Parks was 42 when she refused to obey the bus driver’s order to give up her seat to make room for a white passenger 31) John F. Kennedy was 43 years old when he became President of the United States 32) Henry Ford Was 45 when the Ford T came out. 33) Suzanne Collins was 46 when she wrote "The Hunger Games" 34) Charles Darwin was 50 years old when his book On the Origin of Species came out. 35) Leonardo Da Vinci was 51 years old when he painted the Mona Lisa. 36) Abraham Lincoln was 52 when he became president. 37) Ray Kroc Was 53 when he bought the McDonalds Franchise and took it to unprecedented levels. 38) Dr. Seuss was 54 when he wrote "The Cat in the Hat". 40) Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger III was 57 years old when he successfully ditched US Airways Flight 1549 in the Hudson River in 2009. All of the 155 passengers aboard the aircraft survived 41) Colonel Harland Sanders was 61 when he started the KFC Franchise 42) J.R.R Tolkien was 62 when the Lord of the Ring books came out 43) Ronald Reagan was 69 when he became President of the US 44) Jack Lalane at age 70 handcuffed, shackled, towed 70 rowboats 45) Nelson Mandela was 76 when he became President

Roger stooped, picked up a stone, aimed and threw it at Henry-threw it to miss. The stone, that token of preposterous time, bounced five yards to Henry's right and fell in the water. Roger gathered a handful of stones and began to throw them. Yet there was a space round Henry, perhaps six yards in diameter, into which he dare not throw. Here, invisible yet strong, was the taboo of the old life. Round the squatting child was the protection of parents and school and policemen and the law. Roger was conditioned by a civilization that knew nothing of him and was in ruins.

Cats make one of the most satisfying sounds in the world: they purr. [...] Almost all cats make us feel good about ourselves because they let us know they feel good about us, about themselves, and about our relationship with them. A purring cat is a form of high praise, like a gold star on a test paper. It is a reinforcement of soemthing we would all like to believe about ourselves -- that we are nice.

I find that by some unfortunate chance I continue to want you, you jade-eyed sorceress with your wanton gold body and your calculating little mind!

-Iti spun un lucru. Ce este mai apropiat decat fratele de frate, mama de copil?Ce este mai apropiat decat mana de gura, gandul de minte? E viziunea, Roger. Nu ma astept ca tu sa intelegi asta... -Dar pricep,mai incape vorba! Jocelin isi inalta chipul si deodata zambi: -Chiar intelegi? -Dar vine clipa in care viziunea nu mai e decat jocul copilului de-a-sa-zicem. -Aha! Clatina din cap, incet, atent; si luminile plutira. -Atunci nu intelegi deloc. Deloc.

These things cannot be stopped: An inherited strength of will. One’s dreams. The ebb and flow of the ages. As long as people hunger for freedom, these things will exist. — Gold Roger King of the Pirates

O sun, heart of the heavens whose blood of light Infuses the vigor which transmutes to azure The black ice strangler of great space obscure I hate you, mask of gold, mist and fire, circular Blind monster blinding all the prey around You who veil the impure dazzling phantasm To the loving vertigo of my avid gazes The visions of the colorless abyss of the void Reversed hollow truth-mask of the other world.

Roger'ın varlığından haberi olmayan, yıkılıp giden bir uygarlık, Roger'ın kolunu koşullandırıyordu hâlâ.

Roger's arm was conditioned by a civilization that knew nothing of him and was in ruins.

A good man's prayers are golden recompense!" rejoined old Roger Chillingworth, as he took his leave. "Yea, they are the current gold coin of the New Jerusalem, with the King's own mint-mark on them!

From the moment he stepped in the shell that afternoon, he felt at home. He liked the boys.He didn't know Gordy Adam and Don Hume well, but both made a point of welcoming him. His oldest most reliable shell house friend, Roger Morris, sitting up front in the bow, gave a wave and a shout, Hey Joe I see you finally found the right boat!" His buddies from Grand Coulee Chuck Day and Johnie White were sitting up front too. As he strapped in his shoes and began to lace up, Stub McMillin, his face alight said, This boat is going to fly now boys." Shorty Hunt slapped him on the back and whispered, I got your back Joe!

Roger’s arm was conditioned by a civilization that knew nothing of him and was in ruins.

On November 15, Will Rogers neatly and characteristically summed up the American attitude toward the prospect of a second French-German conflict with a simple, homespun image. The United States, he said, ought to “just let those two old tomcats whose tails are tied together over the fence alone and try to cure the scratches we got the last time we tried to untie ’em.

First semester, I learned that Jack Rogers sandals, so revered in college, screamed, “My small liberal arts school will always be the center of the universe!” I’d found a new axis, so into the trash went my gold, silver, and white pairs.

Botswana was rich in diamonds, Ghana in cocoa and gold, Morocco in phosphates. There were many countries I was eager to visit and revisit, such as Zambia, with its emeralds and copper, and Cameroon, awash in oil. I could not wait to visit

Through rain...then through dreaming glass, green with the evening. And herself in chair, old-fashioned, bonneted, looking west over the deck of Earth, inferno red at its edges, and further in the brown and gold clouds... Then, suddenly, night: The empty rocking chair lit staring chalk blue by--is it the moon, or some other light in the sky? just the hard chair, empty now, in the very clear night, and this cold light coming down... The images go, flowering, in and out, some lovely, some just awful...but she's snuggled in here with her lamb, her Roger, and how she loves the line of his neck all at once so---why there it is right there, the back of his bumpy head like a boy of ten's. She kisses him up and down the sour salt reach of skin that's taken her so, taken her nightlit along this high tendoning, kisses him like kisses were flowing breath itself, and never ending.

When Sicily became part of the Kingdom of Naples, Palermo lost its capital status. It was never to regain it. It is now essentially a baroque city, beautiful though sadly dilapidated. But the setting – the Conca d’Oro or Shell of Gold – is as lovely as ever, and the Sicilian parliament still meets in King Roger’s old palace – so all, perhaps, is not lost.

Roger reunió un puñado de piedras y empezó a arrojarlas. Pero respetó un espacio, alrededor de Henry, de unos cinco metros de diámetro. Dentro de aquel círculo, de manera invisible pero con firme fuerza, regía el tabú de su antigua existencia. Alrededor del niño en cuclillas aleteaba la protección de los padres y el colegio, de la policía y la ley. El brazo de Roger estaba condicionado por una civilización que no sabía nada de él y estaba en ruinas.

•   •   • Don Hume and Roger Morris lay retching in their berths aboard the Manhattan that morning. Al Ulbrickson felt fine, but he was worried about Hume and Morris, laid low by seasickness. They were already the two lightest oarsmen in the boat, and he had planned to make sure they put on some weight during the voyage. Joe Rantz woke up feeling great. He made his way up to the promenade deck, where he found a riot of athleticism unfolding. Lithe gymnasts twirled on parallel bars and uneven bars and took long running leaps at pommel horses, trying to time their precise movements

BLUE HEAVENS It could make a person dizzy, those spinning, circling heavens filled with knots of stars, swirling blue stars approaching, blue-shadow stars fading away. It’s a mayhem of reeling, a scattering blue dust of star clouds circling the circling centers of spiraling galaxies wheeling forever toward no known horizon. Someone, immersed in the deep beauty of these blue celestials, could get lost while waiting for hands to deliver perhaps an orange, perhaps an apple, scarlet or gold, a sprig of green, a blossom, pink dogwood, spring plum. Inspired by “Golden Horn” Tondino The Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, Texas

Octopuses and their relatives have what Woods Hole researcher Roger Hanlon calls electric skin. For its color palette, the octopus uses three layers of three different types of cells near the skin’s surface—all controlled in different ways. The deepest layer, containing the white leucophores, passively reflects background light. This process appears to involve no muscles or nerves. The middle layer contains the tiny iridophores, each 100 microns across. These also reflect light, including polarized light (which humans can’t see, but a number of octopuses’ predators, including birds, do). The iridophores create an array of glittering greens, blues, golds, and pinks. Some of these little organs seem to be passive, but other iridophores appear to be controlled by the nervous system. They are associated with the neurotransmitter acetylcholine, the first neurotransmitter to be identified in any animal. Acetylcholine helps with contraction of muscles; in humans, it is also important in memory, learning, and REM sleep. In octopuses, more of it “turns on” the greens and blues; less creates pinks and golds. The topmost layer of the octopus’s skin contains chromatophores, tiny sacks of yellow, red, brown, and black pigment, each in an elastic container that can be opened or closed to reveal more or less color. Camouflaging the eye alone—with a variety of patterns including a bar, a bandit’s mask, and a starburst pattern—can involve as many as 5 million chromatophores. Each chromatophore is regulated via an array of nerves and muscles, all under the octopus’s voluntary control.

The Highest Octaves of Light Sands, in wild winds of surging waves Over the desert dunes, sing with the tones Of tiny pebbles moving all together, a shifting Of dust grains humming and moaning Over the growing and diminishing dunes. His body in the mirror is the color Of sands. The song he sings in the voice Of light shining like waves of wind Passing over his body inside the glass. The mirror sings with the color of sand In the highest octaves of light. Have you ever listened to sands sing With gold light as they fall in threads Through the needle-eye opening At the center of a hour-glass globe? Why not arrange such globes in rows Before a window of sun, each globe A different width, a different height Of refined or rudimentary glass, clear Amber rose, a tinted blue of noon sky, And listen to the chorus? And then why not turn the globes Upside down and over again to hear Sands sing one more time? The desert dunes are singing, wind-risen Voices from a primeval earth, haunting, Pacific, pining and irate. we listen For the repeating message we remember. The songs are only tumbling pebble grains; Their words are only notes of swirling dust, Sings the eternal light, Emanuel.

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The picture of human life in the market-place, though its general tint was the sad gray, brown, or black of the English emigrants, was yet enlivened by some diversity of hue. A party of Indians—in their savage finery of curiously embroidered deerskin robes, wampum-belts, red and yellow ochre, and feathers, and armed with the bow and arrow and stone-headed spear—stood apart with countenances of inflexible gravity, beyond what even the Puritan aspect could attain. Nor, wild as were these painted barbarians, were they the wildest feature of the scene. This distinction could more justly be claimed by some mariners—a part of the crew of the vessel from the Spanish Main—who had come ashore to see the humours of Election Day. They were rough-looking desperadoes, with sun-blackened faces, and an immensity of beard; their wide short trousers were confined about the waist by belts, often clasped with a rough plate of gold, and sustaining always a long knife, and in some instances, a sword. From beneath their broad-brimmed hats of palm-leaf, gleamed eyes which, even in good-nature and merriment, had a kind of animal ferocity. They transgressed without fear or scruple, the rules of behaviour that were binding on all others: smoking tobacco under the beadle's very nose, although each whiff would have cost a townsman a shilling; and quaffing at their pleasure, draughts of wine or aqua-vitae from pocket flasks, which they freely tendered to the gaping crowd around them. It remarkably characterised the incomplete morality of the age, rigid as we call it, that a licence was allowed the seafaring class, not merely for their freaks on shore, but for far more desperate deeds on their proper element. The sailor of that day would go near to be arraigned as a pirate in our own. There could be little doubt, for instance, that this very ship's crew, though no unfavourable specimens of the nautical brotherhood, had been guilty, as we should phrase it, of depredations on the Spanish commerce, such as would have perilled all their necks in a modern court of justice. But the sea in those old times heaved, swelled, and foamed very much at its own will, or subject only to the tempestuous wind, with hardly any attempts at regulation by human law. The buccaneer on the wave might relinquish his calling and become at once if he chose, a man of probity and piety on land; nor, even in the full career of his reckless life, was he regarded as a personage with whom it was disreputable to traffic or casually associate. Thus the Puritan elders in their black cloaks, starched bands, and steeple-crowned hats, smiled not unbenignantly at the clamour and rude deportment of these jolly seafaring men; and it excited neither surprise nor animadversion when so reputable a citizen as old Roger Chillingworth, the physician, was seen to enter the market-place in close and familiar talk with the commander of the questionable vessel.

He loves you,’ I said, and smoothed the tumbled hair off her flushed face. ‘He won’t stop.’ I got up, brushing yellow leaves from my skirt. ‘We’ll have a bit of time, then, but none to waste. Jamie can send word downriver, to keep an eye out for Roger. Speaking of Roger …’ I hesitated, picking a bit of dried fern from my sleeve. ‘I don’t suppose he knows about this, does he?’ Brianna took a deep breath, and her fist closed tight on the leaf in her hand, crushing it. ‘Well, see, there’s a problem about that,’ she said. She looked up at me, and suddenly she was my little girl again. ‘It isn’t Roger’s.’ ‘What?’ I said stupidly. ‘It. Isn’t. Roger’s. Baby,’ she said, between clenched teeth. I sank down beside her once more. Her worry over Roger suddenly took on new dimensions. ‘Who?’ I said. ‘Here, or there?’ Even as I spoke, I was calculating – it had to be someone here, in the past. If it had been a man in her own time, she’d be farther along than two months. Not only in the past, then, but here, in the Colonies. I wasn’t planning to have sex, she’d said. No, of course not. She hadn’t told Roger, for fear he would follow her – he was her anchor, her key to the future. But in that case – ‘Here,’ she said, confirming my calculations. She dug in the pocket of her skirt, and came out with something. She reached toward me, and I held out my hand automatically. ‘Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.’ The worn gold wedding band sparked in the sun, and my hand closed reflexively over it. It was warm from being carried next to her skin, but I felt a deep coldness seep into my fingers. ‘Bonnet?’ I said. ‘Stephen Bonnet?’ Her throat moved convulsively, and she swallowed, head jerking in a brief nod. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you – I couldn’t; not after Ian told me about what happened on the river. At first I didn’t know what Da would do; I was afraid he’d blame me. And then when I knew him a little better – I knew he’d try to find Bonnet – that’s what Daddy would have done. I couldn’t let him do that. You met that man, you know what he’s like.’ She was sitting in the sun, but a shudder passed over her, and she rubbed her arms as though she was cold. ‘I do,’ I said. My lips were stiff. Her words were ringing in my ears. I wasn’t planning to have sex. I couldn’t tell … I was afraid he’d blame me. ‘What did he do to you?’ I asked, and was surprised that my voice sounded calm. ‘Did he hurt you, baby?’ She grimaced, and pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them against herself. ‘Don’t call me that, okay? Not right now.’ I reached to touch her, but she huddled closer into herself, and I dropped my hand. ‘Do you want to tell me?’ I didn’t want to know; I wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened, too. She looked up at me, lips tightened to a straight white line. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, I don’t want to. But I think I’d better.’ She had stepped aboard the Gloriana in broad daylight, cautious, but feeling safe by reason of the number of people around; loaders, seamen, merchants, servants – the docks bustled with life. She had told a seaman on the deck what she wanted; he had vanished into the recesses of the ship, and a moment later, Stephen Bonnet had appeared. He had on the same clothes as the night before; in the daylight, she could see that they were of fine quality, but stained and badly crumpled. Greasy candle wax had dripped on the silk cuff of his coat, and his jabot had crumbs in it. Bonnet himself showed fewer marks of wear than did his clothes; he was fresh-shaven, and his green eyes were pale and alert. They passed over her quickly, lighting with interest. ‘I did think ye comely last night by candlelight,’ he said, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. ‘But a-many seem so when the drink is flowin’. It’s a good deal more rare to find a woman fairer in the sun than she is by the moon.

Japan was the only place Roger had encountered where people’s response, when he described Bitcoin, was to call it scary—rather than interesting or silly. This was due, Roger believed, to the way in which the virtual currency broke from the government’s mandates about how money should work.

He blinked in surprise and was even more startled when the dragon mimicked the action, but did so sideways. A clear membrane coated its eye, then drew back to reveal hues infinitely more searing than before—so vibrant it was painful for Roger to look into them. Orange pulsating like a lava flow, yellow glistening brighter than a city made of gold, green flashing like St. Elmo’s fire. All these colors danced not a foot in front of Roger’s face, flickering within that gigantic orb...

No one told her astronomers, the ones that publish research every few months, and get tenured at universities, and navigate programs at NASA, that those astronomers don't have sun-gold hair. They don't have sun-brown skin. Those astronomers don't have ancestors that looked at the stars as a means of escape and not in awe.

If the human race survives, a group of archeologists will someday discover a circle of the tools I’ve launched into the air in frustration. They’ll conclude that a small cult called "the Tool Hurlers" once occupied this ground. I've learned to leave skilled work to young men. Muscular types with tool belts and tattoos, and a barely concealed disdain for the tottering old fool who doesn't realize a simple clockwise twist of an 11/16ths deep socket wrench would have fixed the problem. I do actually own that wrench, but I use it for slide guitar.

Will Rogers neatly and characteristically summed up the American attitude toward the prospect of a second French-German conflict with a simple, homespun image. The United States, he said, ought to “just let those two old tomcats whose tails are tied together over the fence alone and try to cure the scratches we got the last time we tried to untie ’em.

Meet one of the leading creative directors Roger Hooks, Jr. He is a renowned “S&P 500 Creative Executive”, who has successfully established his name in the creative industry. He possesses a boasted portfolio in package design of Pacific-Rim makers of entertainment PC peripherals and add-on cards with category best sellers up in down the aisles of Fry's Electronics, Micro Center, Ritz Camera, Best Buy, and Good Guys in their brick-and Mortar Hey-Day. Also, he is a Platinum Award winner in copywriting, a Gold Award winner in advertising campaigns, and a Gold Award winner in special events. So, if you are searching for a professional creative strategist, you must contact Roger Hooks, Jr. Feel free to reach out.

Above all, the story of the Stato da Mar is a saga about trade. Alone in all the world, Venice was organized to buy and sell. The Venetians were merchants to their fingertips; they calculated risk, return, and profit with scientific precision. The red and gold lion banner of Saint Mark fluttered from mastheads like a corporate logo. Trade was their creation myth and their justification, for which they were frequently reviled by more terrestrial neighbors. There exists no more explicit description of the city's raison d'être and its anxieties than the appeal it made to the pope in 1343 for permission to trade with the Muslim world: "Since, by the Grace of God, our city has grown and increased by the labors of merchants creating traffic and profits for us in diverse parts of the world by land and sea and this is our life and that of our sons, because we cannot live otherwise and know not how except by trade, therefore we must be vigilant in all our thoughts and endeavors, as our predecessors were, to make provision in every way lest so much wealth and treasure should disappear." The appeal's gloomy conclusion echoes a manic-depressive streak in the Venetian soul. The city's prosperity rested on nothing tangible — no landholdings, no natural resources, no agricultural production or large population. There was literally no solid ground underfoot. Physical survival depended on a fragile ecological balance. Venice was perhaps the first virtual economy, whose vitality baffled outsiders. It harvested nothing but barren gold and lived in perpetual fear that, if its trade routes were severed, the whole magnificent edifice might simply collapse.

America’s abandonment of the gold standard would have shocked the founders, who took for granted that money had to be more than mere paper. More than anything, going off gold (which occurred in stages, culminating under Nixon) expanded the Fed’s charter. It made the agency the supreme arbiter

For gold bugs, anti–Federal Reserve zealots, and flat-out cranks, the 1910 escapade would come to assume mythic significance. Over the decades, its suspicious character seemed only to grow larger. In 1952, Eustace Mullins, a Holocaust denier and conspiracy theorist nonpareil, described the “secret meetings of the international bankers” as a conclave of the Rothschild family linked backward in time to Hamilton and forward to Winston Churchill, Franklin D. Roosevelt, and Joseph Stalin.

After running away from the United States government to pursue his antigovernment vision, Roger Ver had chosen to live in a place that was uniquely unreceptive to his brand of antiauthoritarian politics. Japan was a country that was still deeply wedded to traditional hierarchies with an educational system that taught its citizens from a young age to obey authority. This was evident in the country’s rigid business traditions—the bowing and exchanging of cards—and in the spiky-haired punks in Tokyo, who waited patiently for walk signals, even when there were no cars in sight. Roger had picked Japan, not because it would allow him to be around other like-minded people, but because he liked the orderliness of Japanese culture—and the women. He had met his longtime Japanese girlfriend at a gathering in California and even she had almost no interest in politics. As Roger discovered, the deferential culture made Japanese people uniquely skeptical about a project like Bitcoin that aimed to challenge government currencies. Japan was the only place Roger had encountered where people’s response, when he described Bitcoin, was to call it scary—rather than interesting or silly. This was due, Roger believed, to the way in which the virtual currency broke from the government’s mandates about how money should work. One of the only people with whom Roger had gotten any traction in Japan was a local pornography tycoon.

We got two gold-record singers and they don’t sing? So? We got five Oscar-winning actors and they don’t need to act much.

Was there gold on Sun Mountain?” Sandy asked. Joe shook his head. “No, not gold. Silver. That whole mountain was practically made of silver. You’ve heard of Virginia City?” “Sure!” Sandy cried. “The Comstock Lode!” “It was right on top of Sun Mountain. It was discovered in 1859. A vein of pure silver nearly sixty feet wide. Before it was worked out, it was worth nearly three quarters of a billion dollars.

Eye Hate U" U have just accessed the Hate Experience Do U wish 2 change your entry? Very well, please enjoy your experience I never thought that U would be the one After all the things that we've been through U gave your body 2 another in the name of fun I hope U had some baby, if not, boo hoo It's so sad but I hate U like a day without sunshine It's so bad but I hate U cuz U're all that's ever on my mind Honey, I hate U - Now everyday would be a waste of time Cuz I hate U I never thought that I could feel this way 2 fall in love was a table reserved 4 fools Say U're sorry if U wanna but it's all in vain I'm out the door sweet baby, that's right, we're through It's so sad but I hate U like a day without sunshine It's so bad but I hate U cuz U're all that's ever on my mind Honey, I hate U - Now everyday would be a waste of time Cuz I hate U This court is now in session Would the defendant please rise? State your name 4 the court Never mind (Billy Jack Bitch) U're being charged with one 2 many counts of heartbreaking In the 1st degree I don't give a damn about the others My main concern is U and me Your honor, may I call 2 the stand my one and only witness? A girl that know damn well she didn't have no damn business I know what U did, how U did it and uh.. who U did it with So U might as well plead guilty cuz U sure can't plead the 5th Now raise your right hand Do U swear 2 tell the whole truth Not the half truth like U used 2 so help U God? Nod your head one time if U hear me If U don't, I'll have 2 use the rod Anything 2 make U see that uh.. U're gonna miss me Yeah, U're gonna miss me Uh, uh, uh, oh! If it please the court I'd like 2 have the defendant place her hands behind her back So I can tie her up tight and get into the act The act of showing her how good it used 2 be I want it 2 be so good she falls back in love with me Close your eyes I'm gonna cover your ass with this sheet And I want U 2 pump your hips like U used 2 And, baby, U better stay on the beat Did U do 2 your other man the same things that U did 2 me? Right now I hate U so much I wanna make love until U see That it's killin' me, baby, 2 be without U Cuz all I ever wanted 2 do was 2 be with U ... ow! I hate U (I hate U) Because I love U (Because I love U) But I can't love U (I can't love U) Because I hate U (I hate U) Prince, The Gold Experience (1995)

Feedbacks sind Silber - Referenzen sind Gold.

Ms. Rogers sighed softly. "Just keep a weather eye," she said. Grant looked out the window. "But it's a bright sunny day." Papa laughed. "She means keep our eyes open for anything or anyone unusual or suspicious," he explained.

I told him to be himself. That was pretty mean, I guess.

That's the problem. Every time I think back, all the good stuff is with you.

Have a drink. It'll make me look younger.

I've had a lot of time to think about the things I've done and been sorry about. And being with you is not one of them.

At this crossroads the Christian city came to control the wealth of a huge hinterland. To the east, the riches of Central Asia could be funneled through the Bosphorus into the godowns of the imperial city: barbarian gold, furs, and slaves from Russia; caviar from the Black Sea; wax and salt, spices, ivory, amber, and pearls from the far Orient. To the south, routes led overland to the cities of the Middle East: Damascus, Aleppo, and Baghdad; and to the west, the sea lanes through the Dardanelles opened up the whole of the Mediterranean: the routes to Egypt and the Nile delta, the rich islands of Sicily and Crete, the Italian peninsula, and everything that lay beyond to the Gates of Gibraltar. Nearer to hand lay the timber, limestone, and marble to build a mighty city and all the resources to sustain it. The strange currents of the Bosphorus brought a rich seasonal harvest of fish, while the fields of European Thrace and the fertile lowlands of the Anatolian plateau provided olive oil, corn, and wine in rich abundance.

digress just for a bit of fun. This was a difficult political period that coincided with the birth of populism in the US. Indeed, L. Frank Baum’s book The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is regarded by some as a clever political satire, a parable on populism, and a commentary on monetary policy. References are numerous. Yellow brick road? Gold. Ruby slippers? In the book, they were silver, and a reference to a populist demand for ‘free and unlimited coinage of silver and gold’ at the 16:1 ratio. Scarecrow? Farmers who weren’t as dim as first thought. Tin Man? Industrial workers. Flying monkeys? Plains Indians. The Cowardly Lion? William Jennings Bryan, Nebraska representative in Congress and later the democratic presidential candidate. Emerald City, where the Wizard lives? Washington DC. The Wizard, an old man whose power is achieved through acts of deception? Well, pick any politician in Washington. Now can you guess what ‘Oz’ is a reference to? Yes, the unit for precious metals. These parallels are discussed in more detail by Quentin P. Taylor, Professor of History, Rogers State College in a fascinating essay “Money and Politics in the Land of Oz.

[They returned] as ordinary, living father and child, in time to see the sun rise beyond the eastern desert and turn the cliffs of Western Thebes to pink and purple and gold as a new day dawned over Egypt.

I just feel that there isn’t enough silence, you know, and I’m always asking people if they can just give some silence. And we’re in a medium that allows so little of that. The last time I was at the White House, I said, ‘Would you please just have a half-minute of silence to think about somebody who has helped you become who you are?’ and that whole fancy meeting, you know, that whole fancy East Room of the White House, sitting silently, thinking about people who they might not have thought of for a long time that had made a big difference in their lives. When that meeting was over, one of the guards came up to me all in white and with the gold braids and everything [he motioned with his hand, touching his shoulders], and he said, ‘Mister Rogers, do you know who I thought about during that half-minute that you gave us?’ “And I said, ‘No, who?’ “ ‘I thought of my grandfather’s brother.’ “And I said, ‘How was he special to you?’ “ ‘Just before he died he took me to his basement and gave me his fishing rod. . . . I hadn’t thought of that for a long, long time.’ ” The White House guard went on to explain that he was very young at the time and that the bequeathal of the fishing rod before his great-uncle died had a profound effect upon him. In fact, he wondered if that was perhaps why he loved fishing so much and why he liked to teach the children in his neighborhood all about it. But it took those moments of silence—requested by Fred in the “fancy” East Room of the White House—to bring the legacy to mind.

Gordon Adam Chuck Day Don Hume George “Shorty” Hunt Jim “Stub” McMillin Bob Moch Roger Morris Joe Rantz John White Jr.

(About the magic bathroom). If knowledge is money, and money is gold, then this is modern day Alchemy. Feces (wasted time) is turned into gold (knowledge).

The mystery of the MAGIC BATHROOM will be revealed unto thee... The table next to the sink is for flashcards. I say a Monty Python skit called, "Every sperm is sacred," and it gave me the idea that, "every piss is sacred." Meaning, why not look at flashcards while voiding. Mozart liked to write letters while on the loo. He wrote, "I think it only fitting to write while shitting." This gave me the idea to read while.... If knowledge is money, and money is gold, then this is modern day alchemy. Feces (wasted time) is turned into gold (knowledge)... People often ask, "where do you find so much time to read? How can you remember so well?" Well, there's your answer, the Magic Bathroom.