H Hudson Quotes

Because I love you. I love you too much, like I always do, but this time I don’t regret it and I don’t wish I could take it back because you need it. So take it from me, H. Take it all from me.

Tell Mrs. Hudson there will be five for supper. If I am not back by eight, I will have no doubt been arrested. In that case, of course, there will be four.

Have you ever observed a humming-bird moving about in an aerial dance among the flowers--a living prismatic gem that changes its colour with every change of position.

You came up this gut-wrenching road yesterday by yourself?" Cassie exclaimed. "You deserve a good cuffing just for driving this goat path on your own." "It's not so bad once you get used to dodging the ruts." "You've got some nerve calling these canyons ruts." "Cassandra Hudson, where is your sense of adventure?" "I dropped it off going over that last rut-crossing when only two wheels were on the ground." "Those ones are a bit exhilarating, aren't they?" Alexandra shot Cassie a quick look and wink.  "Keep your eyes on the road!" "What road?" "Exactly!

You’re not going to break me, Hudson. I thought you might, at first. Turns out you make me better. And I think I do the same for you.” “You do.” “If you decide to not…” I searched for how to say what I meant. “Follow through…with whatever this is that we have, it will hurt. But I won’t be broken.” “But it would hurt?” “Like a motherfucker.” “Then we better follow through.” He drew me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Alayna, you’re fired. You can’t be my pretend girlfriend anymore.” His face grew serious. “Be my real girlfriend instead.” Joy swept through me in a dizzying rush. “I kind of think I already am.” “You are.” “Can I still call you H?” “Absolutely not.” He turned his mouth to meet mine and kissed me with lips sweet and tender, but passionate all the same.

Look into my eyes, and you will see me there--all, all that is in my heart.' 'Oh, I know what I should see there!'...'What would you see? Tell me?' 'There is a little black ball in the middle of your eye; I should see myself in it no bigger than that,' and she marked off about an eighth of her little finger-nail. 'There is a pool in the wood, and I look down and see myself there. That is better. Just as large as I am--not small and black like a small, small fly.

Tommy," Willie said. "I love you, you son of a bitch, and don't die." Thomas Hudson looked at him without moving his head. "Try and understand if it isn't too hard." Thomas looked at him. He felt far away now and there were no problems at all. He felt the ship gathering her speed and the lovely throb of her engines against his shoulder blades which rested hard against the boards. H elooked up and there was the sky that he had always loved and he looked across the great lagoon that he was quite sure, now, he would never paint and he eased his position a little to lessen the pain. The engines were around three thousand now, he thought, and they came through the deck and into him. "I think I understand, Willie," he said. "Oh shit," Willie said. "You never understand anybody that loves you.

H, you’re a workaholic. Are you going to be at it all night?” He grinned though his eyes never left the screen. “Oh, precious, work is not what I’ll be at all night. But I need a few minutes to send this new proposal to the board before I can devote my attention to you. Do you mind?” “Take your time. I’ll get ready for bed.” I lowered the lights as he had the night before, then took advantage of his distraction and retrieved the sexy nightie I’d brought with me before slipping into the bathroom. I didn’t hurry as I undressed, taking the opportunity to shave and apply lotion before slipping on the red lace halter baby-doll I’d purchased on Friday afternoon. The halter-top accentuated my breasts, an area of my body that Hudson appreciated. I removed the ponytail holder from my hair and let it spill around my shoulders in a seductive mess. I brushed my teeth and applied a thin layer of strawberry lip gloss. When I was satisfied with my appearance, I opened the door to the bedroom and posed in the doorway, waiting for Hudson’s reaction. I was met with quiet snoring. With his hands still propped on his open laptop, Hudson had fallen asleep, fully dressed. I sighed, debating how to address the situation. Of course I wanted him awake, but he wouldn’t have fallen asleep like that if he wasn’t truly worn out. Plus, I had to remind myself, night was my time of day—not his. Gently, I slipped the computer from his grasp and placed it on the nightstand. The movement didn’t disturb him in the least—he was out. I decided to let him sleep, but as for myself, I wasn’t in the least bit tired. I wondered if Jack was still awake—maybe we could play another round of poker, though being alone with the man wasn’t entirely a great idea. I peered out the window and saw the guesthouse was dark. Probably for the best.

Mrs. H is right. You have to ask him about things he knows, let him know you’re interested. To hook him, I mean.” I closed my eyes briefly. “Ask him questions you know he can answer—let him think he’s smarter than you,” Mrs. Hudson said, and took a sip from her water glass. “Yeah,

The first races in the U.S.A. were between New York watermen who rowed passengers across the Hudson River. In 1756 a New York pettiauger defeated a Cape Cod whaleboat in a New York race.

Elsewhere as Baker muses on the fluidity and apparent joyfulness of a seal’s motion at sea he speculates: It is a good life, a seal’s, here in these shallow waters. Like the lives of so many air and water creatures, it seems a better one than ours. We have no element. Nothing sustains us when we fall. Here Baker edges towards a remarkable revelation about the whole nature-writing genre. On reading the passage, one thinks of the specific creatures (as well as their most devoted author/admirers) that have made the deepest appeal to the modern British imagination: the otter (Henry Williamson, Gavin Maxwell), whales and dolphins (Heathcote Williams and the whole New-Age fixation with cetaceans) and birds, particularly birds of prey (W.H. Hudson, T.H. White and J.A. Baker himself). If we cannot move between the elements like these wonderful animals, then humans can at least imagine what it is like to be an otter or a peregrine. But no writer I know has taken us deeper into the life of another creature and allowed us to experience how that elemental mastery might possibly feel than John Alec Baker. Mark Cocker, March 2010

man armed with a revolver opened fire at Hip Sing headquarters, which was then located at 49 Hudson Street. More than two dozen Hip Sing members dove to the floor and tried to take cover. Two men fell down some cement steps as they scrambled to get out of the way. Miraculously, no one was hit. The lone gunman, believed to be a member of the On Leong, escaped. Later that evening, Police Commissioner Eugene C. Hultman and Superintendent Michael H. Crowley paid a visit to Chinatown. They brought signs with them with the following message written in Chinese: Th

I was just about half-way through my sixth year, when one morning at breakfast we children were informed to our utter dismay that we could no longer be permitted to run absolutely wild

The sense of smell, which seems to diminish as we grow older, until it becomes something scarcely worthy of being called a sense, is nearly as keen in little children as in the inferior animals, and, when they live with nature, contributes as much to their pleasure as sight or hearing.

When a person endeavours to recall his early life in its entirety he finds it is not possible: he is like one who ascends a hill to survey the prospect before him on a day of heavy cloud and shadow, who sees at a distance, now here, now there, some feautre in the landscape - hill or wood or tower or spire - touched and made conspicuous by a transitory sunbeam while all else remains in obscurity. The scenes, people, events we are able by an effort to call up do not present themselves in order; ther is no order, no sequence or regular progression - nothing, in fact, but isolated spots or patches, brightly illumined and vividly seen, in the midst of a wide shrouded mental landscape. It is easy to fall into the delusion that the few things thus distinctly remembered and visualized are precisely those which were most important in our life, and on that account were saved by memory while all the rest has been permanently blotted out. That is indeed how our memory serves and fools us; for at some period of a man's life - at all events of some lives - in some rare state of the mind, it is all at once revealed to him as by a miracle that nothing is ever blotted out.

The Napoleon of Temperance” or “Father of Prohibition,” activist Neal S. Dow helped to construct the “Maine Law” of 1851, outlawing the use of alcohol for reasons other than mechanical or medicinal purposes. He was the mayor of the city when “The Portland Rum Riot” broke out, leading to the militia shooting into the crowds. One person was killed and seven wounded when the people demanded to know why there was rum stored in the City Hall. Early in the American Civil War, on November 23, 1861, former mayor Dow was commissioned as a Colonel in the 13th Maine Infantry. On April 28th of the following year, he received a commission as Brigadier General in the Union Army. His service included commanding two captured Confederate forts near New Orleans and fighting in the siege of Port Hudson, Louisiana. During this skirmish he was wounded and later captured. General Dow was traded and gained his freedom 8 months later from General William H. F. Lee, the son of Robert E. Lee. Neal S. Dow died on October 2, 1897, and was buried in the Evergreen Cemetery in Portland. His home, the Neal S. Dow house built in 1829, was used as a stop for slaves on the “Maine Underground Railway” and is located at 714 Congress Street in Portland. The historic building is now the home of the Maine Women's Christian Temperance Union.

Hudson Taylor with his China Inland Mission, George Muller with his orphanages, Charles Finney with his revivals, C.H Spurgeon with his sermons, and Andrew Murray with his devotional books have inspired those of their own and succeeding generations to pray fervently for God to meet the needs of others. Likewise, the Schaeffers inspire our generation and will inspire succeeding generations to be ministers of intercession. Note 7 A. W. Tozer wrote: “Next to the Holy Scriptures the greatest aid to the life of faith may be Christian biography.