Hc Quotes

If you looked down to the bottom of my soul, you would understand fully the source of my longing and – pity me. Even the open, transparent lake has its unknown depths, which no divers know.

I'd rather love a million times and have my heart broken every time, than hold a permanitely empty heart forever.

Love is a violent recreational sport. Proceed at your own risk. Helmets, armor, and steel-toe boots are required by law.

Where did you hear that song?" I ask her without sitting up. "From the HC," she says, blushing. "A little girl sang it. It's soothing." "It's sad." "Most things are.

It takes one to tell, and two to missunderstand.

Let your motto then always be 'Excelsior', for by living up to it there is no such word as fail.

E: When one has at last reached freedom, can one even contemplate going back? HC: But if it is not possible to go back, or to choose to go back, then it is not freedom! ~Ericsson; Hilary Craven

Several people toss and turn in their sleep, startled by the lines of the newspapers in their dreams, knives out, lights out, lights out, knives out!

Es ist ein Brauch von Alters her: Wer Sorgen hat, hat auch Likör. Doch wer zufrieden und vergnügt, sieht zu, daß er auch welchen kriegt.

HC: You think I shall differently tomorrow? [about suicide] J: People do. HC: Yes, perhaps. If you're doing things in a mood of hot despair. But when it's cold despair, it's different. I've nothing to live for, you see. ~Hilary Craven; Jessop

In truth, if I admitted to the world that I believe God made me as I am, the church would excommunicate me, but I know this to be true. I am not an evil man—nor greedy, nor cruel to those in need. Yet the law would have me hang for love, the purest of human emotions.

. . . it is called 'camel case' or 'intercapping' -- of writing small letters next to large in the same word, as in such popular significations as iPod, eBay, iTunes, etc. which few would argue is a distinct sign of illiteracy.

To belong and to be loved. That was truly what mattered.

Life's bound to give you lemons, so eat those suckers like a champ and at least you won't die of scurvies.

You’re a monster,” I whisper.  He just blinks at me – unfazed. “You knew that already,” he says quietly and strokes the mark he left on my neck. “But I’m a monster infatuated.

hc.com.

Because I see you now,” he breathes so quietly I know I’m the only one who hears. “So say yes or I’ll make a scene so bad this entire room will be begging for your expulsion before the day’s over.

Den lille havfrue måtte tænke på den første gang hun dykkede op af havet og så den samme pragt og glæde, og hun hvirvlede sig med i dansen, svævede, som svalen svæver når den forfølges, og alle tiljublede hende beundring, aldrig havde hun danset så herligt; det skar som skarpe knive i de fine fødder, men hun følte det ikke; det skar hende smerteligere i hjertet.

The depressing majority of comics seem to be about violence of one sort or another, [...] And I just don’t enjoy violence. I can see that narratively it is often a powerful spike in a story, but I certainly don’t want to dwell on it. I don’t want it in my real life, I don’t find violence entertaining in and of itself, or exciting, or funny. But sex is happily part of most people’s lives, and crosses the mind most days, I would say, even if it’s just watching your partner get out of bed in the morning. [...] Most pornography is pretty awful. I mean, it does the job at the most utilitarian level, but it rarely excites other areas of the mind, or the eye. It’s repetitive, bland and often a bit silly. I was interested in trying to do something that has an aesthetic beauty to it if possible, and something that tickles the intellect as well as the more basic areas of the mind. Maybe that’s not possible, and as soon as you start to think too much, it stops working as pornography. I don’t think so, but I guess it’s in the eye and mind of the viewer.

I’d rather die helping someone than live allowing them to suffer.

All eyes turned to Liberty, expecting her to deliver a killer last line for them to ponder for the rest of their lives.

Whatever he typed next would affect her greatly. He held her heart. And everything depended on his next message.

Dead. Supposedly Suicide. That's how they'll kill Michael too. Make it look like a suicide or an accident of some sort.

Det kan du stole på. Liker du detektivfortellinger? Det gjør jeg. Jeg leser alle sammen, og har navnetrekkene til Dorothy Sayers og Agatha Christie og Dickson Carr og H.C. Bailey.

I never wanted you to not be around.

Everybody knows that I don’t want to let them get too close.

Beaucoup de petit riens laissent sans raison particulière une profonde empreinte dans le coeur des gens ordinaires comme nous, devenant avec le temps des souvenirs d'une valeur inestimable.

She didn’t turn back. She knew his eyes were still on her, but she wouldn’t allow herself to look back. One more look at him and… That would do it. That would reverse everything. That would change her mind.

My original intention with The 4-Hour Workweek (4HWW), The 4-Hour Body (4HB), and The 4-Hour Chef (4HC) was to create a trilogy themed after Ben Franklin’s famous quote: “Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.” People constantly ask me, “What would you put in The 4-Hour Workweek if you were to write it again? How would you update it?” Ditto for 4HB and 4HC. Tools of Titans contains most of the answers for all three.

I remember thinking how wise a man was HC Andersen. The king told his secrets down a well, and his secrets were safe. A man who tells secrets or stories must think of who is hearing or reading, for a story has as many versions as it has readers. Everyone takes what he wants or can from it and thus changes it to his measure. Some pick out parts and reject the rest, some strain the story through their mesh of prejudice. Some paint it with their own delight.

I stare at him but say nothing. His lips slice into a smile because I unnerve him. I always have. “You’re frightened of me,” I tell him. He laughs. “Am I? Oho! Am I now, my boy?” “Yes. You’re used to knowing what’s what. You think like the rest of them.” I nod to the HC’s reflection. “Things are set in stone. Things are well ordered. Reds at the bottom, everyone else standing on our backs. Now you’re looking at me and you’re realizing that we don’t bloodydamn like it down there. Red is rising, Mickey.

Plainly it is not every error made by a witness which affects his credibility. In each case the trier of fact has to make an evaluation; taking into account such matters as the nature of the contradictions, their number and importance, and their bearing on other parts of the witness's evidence.

These three weeks…I couldn’t stand it. All I can think about is you. I can’t stop worrying that if I let you slip through my fingers – even for a moment – you’ll decide you’re done with me, and there will be nothing I can do to convince you otherwise. And it’s terrifying. For the first time in a long time, I am terrified.” 

And that was when she simply forgot about everything: her fears, who she was, her hopes, where she was, her dreams, what time it was, her worries, how she got there; they all paled in comparison to how she felt in that moment. The past was a distant memory. The future would take care of itself. Presently, she was simply being.

Ideas and theories, I have suggested, are like quicksilver in our hands. We can lose an idea altogether by being too tight fisted or too open handed, but if we carry an idea we cannot avoid imposing our own shape upon it. And when we do, we ought to know what we have done, for only in this way does the practice of history raise the consciousness of us all.

Lorsque le froid de l'hiver est le plus rude, c'est que le printemps n'est plus si loin.

A l'ami on ne donne pas rendez-vous : il vient quand il veut, à l'improviste, tous les jours ou une fois tous les cinq ans, pour une bêtise ou le drame de sa vie.

A single sword speaks for a thousand men.

In the end, it is all the same, you fight or you die.

Aes’prínehn fortaal nuala… We are what we choose to be.

Mii frandír no’amí... In the shadows, we wait.

Solid black overtook the prominent teal of her eyes. An angry, satisfied whisper left her lips as she warned, “Send the Divines my regards.

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And you sinners are so, so appreciative of your own ways, as though God made no other people, and the world is your marketplace.

No daughter so strange could be better loved.

For your sorrows, I'm feeling true pity, Alba, but we can’t be destroying our home to end them, for it’s your own heart which gives the pain.

How far was she willing to go to gain acceptance — to belong? How far was she willing to go for love — to be loved?

A girl does not forget being called the one by a boy.

Seeing him again brought the wind into her sails, setting her heart racing once more across oceans of doubt, guaranteeing to make waves in the still waters of her current mind.

When he turned to her, she beheld the vast ocean of blue that was his eyes, now that they were up close for the first time. His eyes were remarkably intense and soft at the same time, and she liked being looked at by them.

...ze sun don’t rise in ze east anymore. Ze sun don’t seem to rise for us at all.

A virtual kiss from the boy she liked? That outweighed everything.

What is the purpose of life if not to find meaning in it?

Just as we cannot change our nature, we cannot change the destructive course of Nature.

Be ruler of your fears to open future doors; be master of your emotions and the world could be yours.

…females were possibly as complex and mysterious as the secrets of the universe.

He was just a rare, nice boy — far too agreeable to make himself agreeably attractive; far too caring for girls to ever care about him; and far too sweet to ever be considered the sweetness in somebody’s life.

If ever there was a perfectly bad time to bring out a perfectly bad Dad joke, this was it.

She waited. And waited. With only that pesky ‘friend’ Anxiety to keep her company, her mind painted images of what was happening at The Raveyard. She prepared for the worst.

…his spontaneous verbal compliment had been worth a thousand text messages.

It wasn’t a girl,” he replied innocently, “it was Viona.

Several tall trees edging the school grounds rustled in the wind — the old oaks nudging each other and the younger willows whispering little fanciful commentaries as they observed the two young people together.

Viona’s heart throbbed with intense joy. With beating wings it took off and soared across the sky, going higher than it had ever been before; such weighty, powerful feelings it carried, yet it remained as light as a feather. This had to be what it felt like to be in love, she decided. And if it wasn’t, then love would have a lot to live up to.

Gaming is my jam. It’s my total escape. It’s where I really get to be me: to be in control, to be a fighter, to break glass ceilings, to be a powerhouse.

He is Dictator in order that it may be impossible ever again that there should be in Turkey a Dictator.

It was surely only inevitable that tangible things would one day decay along with all those humans who were presently relying on a pumping heart to stay alive.

Well, if you really want to know, I’m basically in love with a boy who is totally wrong for me in every way but I just can’t forget about him or give him up even though I should because he did something that really hurt me and he may have even lied to me but I don’t even seem to care that he did so and now he’s just made it harder for me to dislike him because he said a really nice apology and told me everything that I wanted to hear and so I forgave him even though I still deep down harbour some resentment towards him but I’m sure he saw it in my eyes and heard it in my words that I’m still completely pathetically madly head over heels for him and would still love him even if he did it all over again and broke my heart into a thousand pieces.

If there was one language that truly resonated with her, it was music.

He was persistent, and he was good.

...nobody likes a goody-good.

Her silence had disturbed his peace.

We get that old familiar sting when they say Image is everything

Clarity could sometimes be a harsh creature.

I’d like to know vere hope dvells zese days ’cause it certainly doesn’t seem to dvell anyvere on Rishona.

I don’t really understand it myself: half the time I think I must be crazy for liking him and sometimes I can’t even remember how I fell for him. But, then again, isn’t that what love is? — one big bubble of confusion, joy, chaos, happiness, mess, harmony, ugliness, beauty, madness, balance, disagreements, unity, challenges, ease, pain, healing, rejection, acceptance, death and life; all these things, all the time, and all-consuming.

She didn’t have time to feel anything as life was moving at such a fast pace.

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Dass Kinder eine derartige Darstellung sehr nach ihrem Geschmack finden, ist nicht zu bezweifeln […]« Tatsächlich gab es später Verbote des Buches: Die steirische Schulbehörde untersagte noch 1929 den Verkauf von Max und Moritz an Jugendliche unter achtzehn Jahren (!). Die Kritik der Spießer tat dem Erfolg nicht Abbruch: Bereits zu Wilhelm Buschs Lebzeiten wurde das Werk in zehn Sprachen übersetzt,

I've learned that the most unbelievable is the most believable.

Tal como lo señalan muchas investigaciones, agregar pectina a la dieta alimenticia reduce los niveles de colesterol en el hígado. En congruencia con hallazgos anteriores, los investigadores de este estudio afirman que la pectina de la tuna del cactus nopal reduce en forma significativa los niveles de colesterol hepático totales, libres y esterificados, al comparárselos con los niveles de sujetos sometidos a una dieta HC.

Moving to New York was the best decision I’ve ever made. It gets a bad rap because back in the day it was pretty shady; but truthfully, I think that’s part of the appeal. This is an island of outcasts: the smart ones, the dumb ones, the pretty ones, the weird ones. We’re all the same here. We all come from somewhere else looking for the same thing. We weren’t accepted where we came from, for one reason or another, so we exiled ourselves to a place where we felt safe amongst the chaos of other misfits. The most interesting and talented individuals end up here and it suddenly becomes desirable to be a part of such an obscure group. The nerds are the popular kids and the popular kids work at a McDonald’s in the hometown you left behind. People visit our show all year long just to catch a glimpse of the madness, to feel an ounce of whimsy, but it’s lost on them. This is our island. The island of the lost, but for all who dwell here, it’s the island of the found. Before

2013006969 ISBN 978-1-4424-9718-4 (pbk) ISBN 978-1-4424-9719-1 (hc) ISBN 978-1-4424-9720-7 (eBook)

Development of the Phantom II began in 1953 when McDonnell began studying concepts for an all-weather naval strike fighter to replace the USN F3H Demon. The Demon was a starting point for the Phantom II studies with evolutionary growth variants of the later leading to the un-built F3H-(C), which was a 1953 proposal of an enlarged version of the F3H-2 to be powered by the J67-W-1 engine to produce a so called Super Demon. Further design studies led to the un-built F3H-(E) single seat, single engine fighter based on the Demon.

Une lettre en japonais est un livre ouvert sur l’âme,

Jusqu’à ma destination, j’ai regardé défiler ce paysage urbain chaotique et dur qui contrastait tant avec la délicatesse de ses habitants.

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Christianity must stop competing with non-Christian religions for adherents. What I mean specifically is that it is a self-defeating trap for Christians to try to outdo the other religions on their own ground. But isn't that what Christians are supposed to do? Aren't we supposed to work at increasing the number of people who identify with Christianity? Not really. Creating numbers of official converts has never been the Church's mission from God. The task of the church is to present the gospel, to make it possible for people to make a decision for Christ, and to nurture the new converts. God will provide the numbers (Acts 2:47).

I never used condoms in my fantasy. I wanted to feel her wetness soak me up. I wanted to feel her folds stretch around me. I wanted to mold her to my dick and make her mine.

Rachel Cooley was different than any other girl I met. Even when we were officially stepsiblings, she was a tomboy princess.

I fantasized about my stepsister. Technically, she wasn’t my stepsister anymore.

God, she was a dream. Every men’s fantasy girl. Long blonde hair. Big, blue eyes. Freckles on high cheeks. Red lips, dimples.

wanted to eat her until she came on my face, her juices coating me like sweat from an hour of power skating.

When I was a kid, I had a big crush on my stepbrother.

Some things are hard to see because they are so scarce; other things may be hard to see at first because they are so fundamental.

But I pointed out that her family made jellies and they were thinking of opening their own jam shop, and that

Right.” Rick shook his head, trying to get himself back on track. “Anyway, I told him I loved her and that she was having my child. If he could just meet her himself, decide for himself. I told him I would join politics the way he always wanted to. I would quit just to make sure there was no reason to question any unfair favoritism. I would do whatever it took. I wanted to show him how wonderful she is. She didn’t want to eat her sandwich that day –

Brother, we’ve gotta find you a woman.” The sound of a huge yawn came across the line. “Or a therapist. Calling for a work-out partner before dawn has to be a cry for help.

Until I lifted my eyes, away from myself, and stared out, down, and around at the view stretching before me. I saw it and it struck me, right between those eyes—this is what lasts. These hills, rippling across my view, rolling into the horizon. These fields, rain-soaked soft and sunbaked rigid, this land, this gift, this precious gift. This is what lasts.

You all know one another?" Wyatt had a better poker face. "Jess and I go way back. I used to be her boss." He winked at me. "I always loved your Halloween style." He pointed to my suit. I mustered a smile. "I know Wyatt very well. How'd that Beauchamp deal turn out?" I knew Hamilton Cooper had lost that opportunity after I left; it was all over the trade news. Rumor had it that Wyatt was the sole reason HC lost that deal. Wyatt coughed into his coffee. "Damn, Jess. That was an NHL-level body check. You go in the penalty box." I smirked. A triumphant verbal takedown.

He had convinced himself of a ‘truth’, mostly because it was a very welcome sight for sore eyes. To see something meant that it was probable, and to consider something probable meant that it was believable.