Irma Quotes

Never send a boy to do a woman’s job, Irma.” - Payton Kendall

There are many different ways to revise a cookbook. Faced with the task of updating Joy in the mid-1990s, my father, Ethan,

life is like a silver coin. You can spend it any way you wish, but you can spend it once.

Always pat fish dry before cooking.

Perubahan hidup kita diikat dengan doa. Ia adalah ikhtiar kepada keinginan yang mahu dicapai..Kekayaan orang Muslim adalah doa.

Certain vegetables and fruits should not be stored together. Apples give off ethylene gas, which can overripen vegetables, and onions cause potatoes to spoil quickly.

Everything if only you could see it clearly enough, is beautiful and complete – the ragged nest, Marion’s torn muslin skirts fluted like a nautilus shell, Irma’s ringlets framing her face in exquisite wiry spirals – even Edith, flushed and childishly vulnerable in sleep.

Even as a little girl, Irma Leopold had wanted above all things to see everyone happy with the cake of their choice. Sometimes it became an almost unbearable longing, as when she had looked down at Mademoiselle asleep on the grass this afternoon.

If there is one suject that has sparked disagreement among food writers and home cooks more than any other, it is the best way to boil an egg...you never want to actually boil eggs, but rather, gently simmer them

To determine the age of eggs, place them in a bowl of water...eggs that float are too old and should be thrown away.

Cream cheese is the perfect blank slate from which to make a flavorless sandwich spread that can serve as an alternative to mayonnaise or butter. Or use it as God intended: on a fresh, toasted bagel.

Mencipta perubahan bermula daripada kata-kata. Sama ada kata-kata yang menyentak ataupun menusuk kalbu.

or 3 sprigs fresh thyme or ½ teaspoon dried thyme 1 bay leaf Reduce the heat to low, cover, and cook for 5 minutes. Add the eggplant and zucchini and cook until everything is tender, about 20 minutes more. Taste and adjust the seasonings. Stir in: ¼ cup chopped basil (Chopped pitted Niçoise or Kalamata olives to taste)

Sprouts have come under intense scrutiny since they are grown in an environment that invites unwanted bacteria and are often consumed raw. In fact, many large grocery store chains do not carry sprouts of any kind to avoid liability concerns. If you are cooking for anyone with a compromised immune system, we recommend avoiding sprouts or cooking them before serving.

And then the French paddled over from Canada, and you know how rambunctious those Canadians are—always in a snit about something,” Irma prattled on.

RATATOUILLE PROVENÇALE 8 servings Served on a platter that shows off its contrasting colors, this dish looks like a colorful Cubist still life. Heat in a large skillet or Dutch oven over medium heat: ¼ cup olive oil Add and cook, stirring, until golden and just tender, 10 to 12 minutes: 1 medium eggplant (about 1 pound), peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks 2 large zucchini (about 1 pound), cut into 1-inch chunks

Like every other Christmas Eve, she went to Grandpa John's room, because they were the only ones who knew how long the yearning for another person could last, long after everyone else had forgotten.

Do you feel that we can rebel against our oppressors without losing our love, our tolerance, and our ability to forgive?

That to truly know happiness is to know the fleeting nature of everything, joy, pain, safety and happiness itself.

Irma, my dear sister,' said Prunesquallor, 'I have two things to say. Firstly, why in the name of discomfort are we hanging around in the hall and probably dying of a draught that as far as I'm concerned runs up my right trouser leg and sets my gluteous maximus twtiching; and secondly, what is wrong, when you boil the matter down - with feet? I have always found mine singularly useful, especially for walking with. In fact, ha, ha, ha, one might almost imagine that they have been designed for that very purpose.

Birds sold as free-range or free-roaming must be given access to the outside, however that is the ony requirement; the area to which they have access may be small, and consist of gravel and no forage of any kind. The term pastured or pasture-raised tends to be more meaningful, as this practice can affect the flavor and size of the birds...The term "natural" is unregulated and essentially meaningless. According to the current USDA standards, no poultry may be given hormones; thus, poultry labeled as "hormone-free" is akin to labeling bottled water "no carbs" or "fat free.

Eternity is a ham and two people” (also given as “Eternity is two people and a ham") is an old quip from the days when a ham was huge—far more than two people could finish. Irma Rombauer mentions this line in her famous cookbook, The Joy of Cooking.

Don’t you think so? Don’t you think so?’ ‘I am far beyond thinking, bone of my bone. Far, far beyond thinking, I hand over the reins to you, Irma. Mount and be gone. The world awaits you.

Irma looked around her bedroom desperately. Her eyes fell on the stack of schoolbooks lying on top of her vanity table. Homework! Homework trumped everything! Irma dived toward the desk and scooped up a couple of textbooks. "I want to do my homework!" she wailed. "I have to study. Send Leafy instead of me!" Irma pointed to her pet turtle. "Your turtle is not going on a date with Martin Tubbs!

In order to be labeled organic, a crop must be grown without the use of certain synthetic pesticides and fertilizers, as specified by the USDA. Though produced with fewer synthetic compounds, organic vegetables are not necessarily tastier or more nutritious than their conventional counterparts. Also keep in mind that the certification process is often too expensive for small farms even though their practices may meet or exceed those set by the USDA. The smallest farms-those selling less than $5,000 worth of crops annually-may by law label their produce organic without being inspected or certified. Rather than rely on labeling, we prefer, when possible, to buy locally grown vegetables in their season.

No honking the horn or flashing the lights because you get bored,” she warned Irma. “Dweezil’s threatened to blow up the car if you throw a tantrum out here. He said you freak out the customers when you do that.” “The man who looks like an olive claims I freak people out?” She gestured to a troll that exited the office. “Oh yes, I’m the odd one here.” Jazz swallowed her laughter. The last thing she needed to do was encourage the irascible ghost.

Exactly.” Irma nodded, thoughtful. “I always figured that was because our greatest temptation wouldn’t be the big guns on the sin list — murder and theft and the rest. But something so simple we might overlook it. The temptation to hold a grudge.” “The call to forgive.

A ottantadue anni, Irma ha raggiunto una visione della vita molto chiara: per le cose belle, si ride; per quelle brutte, si piange, se non fosse che piangere non serve a un accidente, quindi tendenzialmente non si piange nemmeno per quelle ma le si incassa con classe e una tazza di tè.

Apabila perubahan membawa kepada kebaikan, ketenangan menjadi teman. Dia penghapus resah dan pengukuh keyakinan.

Sy praat stadig, asof sy die woorde in haar mond oopbreek.

Sy het net kwaad geword, en kwaad is nie 'n emosie nie. Ek sal weet. Dis soos grond; jy gebruik dit om ander, egter goed te begrawe. Haat. Jaloesie. Liefde.

My words aren't only words. They're pictures and tears and imperfect offerings of love and self-inflicted shots to my brain.

He was a man who knew he'd come in after a long day and had found his shade (Irma)

Accordingly, identification, or the formation of composite figures, serves different purposes: first, to represent a feature both persons have in common; secondly, to represent a displaced common feature; but thirdly, to find expression for a common feature that is merely wished for. Since wishing it to be the case that two people have something in common is often the same as exchanging them, this relation too is expressed in the dream by identification. In the dream of Irma's injection, I wish to exchange this patient for another, that is, I wish that the other were my patient, as Irma is; the dream takes account of the wish in showing me a figure who is called Irma, but who is examined in a posture in which I have only had occasion to see the other.

I got Mrs. Underwood's green attendance book and opened it up. "Period two, right?" "Yeah," Corky said. "Okay. Here we go. Irma Bates?" "I want to go home! " Irma screamed defiantly. "She's here," I said.

It seems reasonable to assume that the minute Irma walks into Venera and Goderdzi's home she will take off her while wedding dress, take up the yoke of domestic duties and work like a mule until her dying breath.

It was the early 1960s, and the best-known names in home cooking—Fannie Farmer, Betty Crocker, Irma Rombauer, Dione Lucas—projected a warm and cozy domestic image that was the opposite of what she and David were after.

To say that the frozen silence contracted itself into a yet higher globe of ice were to under-rate the exquisite tension and to shroud it in words. The atmosphere had become a physical sensation. As when, before a masterpiece, the acid throat contracts, and words are millstones, so when the supernaturally outlandish happens and a masterpiece is launched through the medium of human gesture, then all human volition is withered at the source and the heart of action stops beating. Such a moment was this. Irma, a stalagmite of crimson stone, knew, for all the riot of her veins that a page had turned over. At chapter forty? O no! At chapter one, for she had never lived before save in a pulseless preface. How long did they remain thus? How many times had the earth moved round the sun? How many times had the great blue whales of the northern waters risen to spurt their fountains at the sky? How many reed-bucks had fallen to the claws of how many leopards, while that sublime unit of two-figure statuary remained motionless? It is fruitless to ask. The clocks of the world stood still or should have done.

The director said he's got a haunted soul and a natural sweetness.

To suffer personally and directly due to the collective is not necessary, and is also a subtle form of masochism disguised as virtue.

But the truth doesn’t always need a voice. Sometimes it waits where you left it, without anyone having to acknowledge it. Quietly and indisputably. And, above all, patiently.

One team on the same train, moving in the same direction, is a powerful force.

life is like a silver coin. You can spend it any way you wish, but you can only spend it once.

Why is it so painful to write about people who aren't assholes? I asked Wilson. Because I would start to love them, he said.

Men, she decided, were a strange, thick-skulled, ball-kicking species no one on earth could have a sensible conversation with.

Just remember, when you suffer and feel the heat of the flames, that’s when God is there. He watches carefully, until He can see His own image in you. He’ll never leave you in the flames too long.

For a few seconds I thought about my little brothers who loved connecting things with rope. I wondered if I'd ever see them again and a torpedo of sadness struck me and moved straight trough my body.

We drank our coffee and talked a little bit more about practical things. Natalie came over and asked me if I knew what the trees were called. I said no. She told me they were jacarandas. She said one March two years ago she was feeling suicidal. She had planned to step in front of a bus. Then she looked at the jacaranda tree and changed her mind. You decided to hang yourself from it instead? I said.

You are also here to serve as guides and examples for others through the years of the “Shift” on Earth. This does not entail being bogged down by the karma, issues, and psychic garbage of the collective.

Irma, she said. But I had started to walk away. I heard her say some more things but by then I had yanked my skirt up and was running down the road away from her and begging the wind to obliterate her voice. She wanted to live with me. She missed me. She wanted me to come back home. She wanted to run away. She was yelling all this stuff and I wanted so badly for her to shut up. She was quiet for a second and I stopped running and turned around once to look at her. She was a thimble-sized girl on the road, a speck of a living thing. Her white-blond hair flew around her head like a small fire and it was all I could see because everything else about her blended in with the countryside. He offered you a what? she yelled. An espresso! I yelled back. It was like yelling at a shorting wire or a burning bush. What is it? she said. Coffee! I yelled. Irma, can I come and live-- I turned around again and began to run.

Where are they going to get a camera? I asked. I don't know, said Noehmi. They'll probably get sidetracked along the way. Or they'll come back with paint instead, or beer, or some new idea for a circus or something. They're social anarchists.

I stood there, like always, like forever it seemed, in the middle of the road waiting for something or someone to retrieve me, God or a parent or my husband or any of those things or people or ideas or words that by their definition promised love.

Chaos can become boring. What recurs often eventually loses its impact, diminishes in perceived size and importance, even if it continues unabated. Shock, like love, can ebb away. What once moved the earth can become normal. Routine and predictable. Boring.

Irma Nail, who lived next door to Gordon, was setting off as usual for her morning paper. She was not easily distracted from her routine, even by the apocalypse. She stepped out of her house in her purple rain boots, muttering about the freakish weather, and glanced up at the sky just as a wolf fell out of it. 'Outrageous!' She snorted as it lay stunned at her feet. 'I've heard of it raining cats and dogs, but this is ridiculous!' and she stepped over the stricken beast, putting her umbrella up in case more wolves should tumble, uninvited, from the sky.

I was beginning to understand something I couldn't articulate. It was a jazzy feeling in my chest, a fluttering, a kind of buzzing in my brain. Warmth. Life. The circulation of blood. Sanguinity. I don't know. I understood the enormous risk of telling the truth, how the telling could result in every level of hell reigning down on you, your skin scorched to the bone and then bone to ash and then nothing but a lingering odour of shame and decomposition, but now I was also beginning to understand the new and alien feeling of taking the risk and having the person on the other end of the telling, the listener, say: Bad shit at home? You guys are running away? Yeah, I said. I understand, said, Noehmi.

Mennonites formed themselves in Holland five hundred years ago after a man named Menno Simons became so moved by hearing Anabaptist prisoners singing hymns before being executed by the Spanish Inquisition that he joined their cause and became their leader. Then they started to move all around the world in colonies looking for freedom and isolation and peace and opportunities to sell cheese. Different countries give us shelter if we agree to stay out of trouble and help with the economy by farming in obscurity. We live like ghosts. Then, sometimes, those countries decide they want us to be real citizens after all and start to force us to do things like join the army or pay taxes or respect laws and then we pack our stuff up in the middle of the night and move to another country where we can live purely but somewhat out of context.

..I followed her out the door and watched her walk down the road towards home, hers, and the bright yard light, and her own bed, and our parents, and I stood there for a long time because I didn't know where else to go. I stood there long enough to feel the chill of the night. The sky was a blanket of stars.Indifferent. I repeated the ancient song of Nezahualcoytl. I stood there long enough to hear my family singing. Why were they singing at two in the morning? I heard the hight, creaky voice of my mother and the off-key but persistent voices of my little brothers.

Be'…” ha cominciato Tanis, ma si è interrotta subito e ha scosso la testa. “Torna qui e mettiti a sedere.” Pat Fitzgerald ha sghignazzato. “Cos'è, ci si scambiano i segreti adesso?” “Proprio così.” “Sai che affare,” ha osservato Corky Herald. Con questo ha suscitato le risa della classe. Irma Bates se n'è tornata mogia mogia in fondo all'aula, dove si è immersa in non so quale confabulazione con Tanis, Anne Lasky e Susan Brooks. Sylvia conversava sottovoce con Grace, sotto lo sguardo avido di Porcile. Ted Jones corrugava la fronte. George Yannick stava incidendo qualcosa sul suo banco mentre fumava una sigaretta e sembrava proprio un falegname assorto. Gli altri erano quasi tutti occupati a guardar fuori della finestra gli sbirri che dirottavano il traffico e quelli che tramavano in piccoli capannelli dall'aria sconfitta. In quel momento è echeggiato all'improvviso un campanello con un gran baccano che ha fatto saltare in aria tutti quanti. "È la campana del cambio dell'ora," ha spiegato Harmon. Io ho guardato l'orologio a muro. Erano le 9.50. Alle 9.05 ero seduto al mio posto vicino alla finestra a osservare lo scoiattolo. Adesso lo scoiattolo non c'era più, il buon vecchio Tom Denver se n'era andato e Mrs. Underwood se n'era andata ancora di più. Ci ho riflettuto e ho concluso che me n'ero andato anch'io.

Universe of My Love I have loved you; why, when, how. I do not know, I have loved you for your beautiful smile and for your mysterious glow, With which you fill my life offering me a sense of completeness, That invades me with your love’s stillness, Your love, my emotions, my sentiments and my entire existence, It feels like the most beautiful moment of reality with no hint of pretence, Inside me I feel you flowing in my senses, And there hidden from the world, just you and I and our romances, Kisses of love, thoughts of togetherness and basking in your beauty, Everything within me and outside me regards you as its patron deity, In the night’s anonymity your thoughts are my only gladdening acquaintance, And I willingly accept my, self-decreed sentence, To become your prisoner, your admirer enslaved forever, With the hope that someday in my humble submissions you will discover your lover, Who loves you, only you. Why? I do not wish to know, As long as in your eyes I see a reflection of my own life's flow, So sleep my love Irma, but please never close your eyes, For whenever you do so something within me dies, You are my end and you are my beginning too, I am the river and you are the always waiting sea that I restlessly flow to, In you I have seen my heaven and daylight, In this universe of mine you are my only starlight, You are my visions and my always longed for that beauty's ultimate sight, Let me hold your hair Irma, let me look into your eyes and be together every day and night, Fill the emptiness of my life with your sparkling eyes, Le me place my tired head under your hair and drift far and wide into these dark skies, Of this familiar universe that your presence creates for me, Let us be in this state forever my love; the ever expanding universe, and you with me!

Our dreams are little stories or puzzles that we must solve to be free, Sebastian said. He was reading out loud from Wilson's notebook. My dream is me offering me a solution to the conundrum of my life. My dream is me offering me something that I need and my responsibility to myself is to try to understand what it means. Our dreams are a thin curtain between survival and extinction.

Cream of Cheat Mushroom Soup (This is one of Edna Ferguson’s recipes and she named it herself.)   2 cups chicken broth 8-ounce package sliced mushrooms (fresh, from the grocery store) with 12 perfect slices reserved for garnish 1 can (10 ¾ ounces) condensed Cream of Chicken Soup (undiluted) 2 cans (10 ¾ ounces each) condensed Cream of Mushroom Soup (undiluted) 1 cup heavy cream 8 oz. shredded Gruyere (or any good Swiss cheese, or even Monterey Jack) ½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper   Combine the chicken broth and the package of mushrooms (remember to reserve those 12 perfect slices for the garnish) in a blender. Zoop them up. Add the can of Cream of Chicken soup to the blender. Zoop it all up. Spray the inside of a 4-quart slow cooker with Pam. Add the contents of the blender to the crock-pot. Add the cans of Cream of Mushroom soup to the crock-pot. Stir. Add the heavy cream, shredded cheese, and ground black pepper. Stir again. Cook on LOW for 4 to 5 hours. Ladle into bowls. Sprinkle with parsley and float several mushroom slices on top as a garnish. Irma York tested this recipe. She couldn’t write down how many cups it makes because her husband, Gus, kept sneaking it out of her slow cooker.

extras, in case you want to send some.” “Irma,” M.J. said. “Who am I going to write a postcard to? You’re the

Irma La Douce,

We are who we choose to be, so we cannot change our past nor predict our future, but we can live each day to the fullest by sharing love and laughter with friends and associates.

Beer Hall Putsch” in Munich. Grese grew up in

I want her face to feel at home on an ancient coin, he said. I want her eyes to harm me.

Die Nacht nach diesem Gespräch konnte ich nicht schlafen. Als Blanka nach Hause kam, schloß ich die Augen und rührte mich nicht. Aber ich mußte ununterbrochen an Irma und Margareta denken.

Your legs are real nice and soft.” Millie smiled slyly. “I shaved them. Irma told me about shaving certain parts that a man likes.” Henry lifted a brow at her. “Interesting…” He continued to rub her legs from ankle to knee.   They

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Shirt" The back, the yoke, the yardage. Lapped seams, The nearly invisible stitches along the collar Turned in a sweatshop by Koreans or Malaysians Gossiping over tea and noodles on their break Or talking money or politics while one fitted This armpiece with its overseam to the band Of cuff I button at my wrist. The presser, the cutter, The wringer, the mangle. The needle, the union, The treadle, the bobbin. The code. The infamous blaze At the Triangle Factory in nineteen-eleven. One hundred and forty-six died in the flames On the ninth floor, no hydrants, no fire escapes— The witness in a building across the street Who watched how a young man helped a girl to step Up to the windowsill, then held her out Away from the masonry wall and let her drop. And then another. As if he were helping them up To enter a streetcar, and not eternity. A third before he dropped her put her arms Around his neck and kissed him. Then he held Her into space, and dropped her. Almost at once He stepped to the sill himself, his jacket flared And fluttered up from his shirt as he came down, Air filling up the legs of his gray trousers— Like Hart Crane’s Bedlamite, “shrill shirt ballooning.” Wonderful how the pattern matches perfectly Across the placket and over the twin bar-tacked Corners of both pockets, like a strict rhyme Or a major chord. Prints, plaids, checks, Houndstooth, Tattersall, Madras. The clan tartans Invented by mill-owners inspired by the hoax of Ossian, To control their savage Scottish workers, tamed By a fabricated heraldry: MacGregor, Bailey, MacMartin. The kilt, devised for workers To wear among the dusty clattering looms. Weavers, carders, spinners. The loader, The docker, the navvy. The planter, the picker, the sorter Sweating at her machine in a litter of cotton As slaves in calico headrags sweated in fields: George Herbert, your descendant is a Black Lady in South Carolina, her name is Irma And she inspected my shirt. Its color and fit And feel and its clean smell have satisfied Both her and me. We have culled its cost and quality Down to the buttons of simulated bone, The buttonholes, the sizing, the facing, the characters Printed in black on neckband and tail. The shape, The label, the labor, the color, the shade. The shirt.

What about distant lands and beautiful women?” “So much has become clearer to me now.” “And that would be?” “In distant lands, I am, after all, a lonely stranger. And Irma is beautiful. Maybe not like the women there, but she’s the one I love, and she loves me. I see the same thing in both of you. This is what’s truly important.” “How

How old is Old? It is interesting how, as we advance in years, we push the boundaries of what we consider "old age." "I am so depressed." my friend Irma told me the other day. When I asked why, she put her hands up in despair and answered, "I am turning thirty next week. I never thought I would get there." No, none of us ever thinks that we will get "there." What? Becoming thirty or forty or fifty? Or even older? No way! That happens to others - not me! But as the years pile up, you'll find yourself kicking the idea of "old" farther and farther down the road.

In some ways, Mary thought, Irma lived her whole life anxious to get things over with, as if she knew the end of her story all along, and didn’t feel the middle pages worth the effort of a read.

was the only subject on which Betts and her mother had ever agreed. Gigi—Irma Cherie Dittmeyer—was the devil disguised as a Southern Baptist. She’d spent most of her life thumping her Bible so loudly she gave Jesus a headache.

frowned upon - such as

As Empaths/Sensitives, we see that one of your greatest challenges is dealing with the collective pain-body. This is one aspect of your role that is no longer helpful or necessary. You are of your highest service to your brethren when you are empowered, balanced, and well. When you are in a higher vibration, the dramas of the 3D and 4D world cannot impact you in the same way. Strengthen your "vertical connection" to Source, and your own higher selves, dear ones. This way, you can "be the blessing" everywhere that you go, and will lose none of yourself in the process. It is the old way to transform darkness by taking it into your own being. It is now about shining a light. —The Keepers, 4.5.2015

Dear ones, it is often when in despair or other heavier states that you call upon us. You may not feel our presence as strongly when you are vibrationally lowered due to pain, depression, or discouragement. It is then that we are there even more “behind the scenes,” so to speak, working on your vibration, raising it up so that you may receive our messages to you more directly and clearly. —Celestina, 4.26.2015

The more you understand that you are not your karma and the negative experiences in your past ultimately, the more you are free to truly be yourself. What has been confusing about the Empathic Soul is the distinction between yourself and the other. You also carry a deep soul memory of ONEness that, while it seems this may be lost on the 3D and 4D world, it really is not, especially at this time. There is great support now for you to stop engaging in the “game” of hiding who you are, toning down your gifts, or otherwise hiding your light. You have been gaining in personal strength, confidence, and wisdom. There is a wave of energy across your planet now to support your universal “coming out” party. It is time. —The Keepers, 4.8.2015

Appelplatz”,

you are here to transform fear into love; especially those who identify as Lightworkers, starting first with yourselves. We understand you have come up against an unkind world while operating out in the spiritual deficit, which results in fear and separation and all that springs from it. Though it is your nature to be kind and loving beings of compassion, it is also your nature to be warriors of light, though you can do this through gentle, energetic means.

Second, you are here to receive energetic “imprints” from higher dimensions, and model them on Earth. Of course, you will put your own unique “spin” on them with your own light, personalities, and gifts. Since it is your nature to be spiritually malleable, it is essential that you allow only harmonious vibrations to enter you. This is not to say that you must remain out of lower frequency environments at all times, but namely, to be energetically sound, centered, and aware. —The Keepers, 4.26.2015

Due to the dramatic change in the environmental energy of planet Earth over the past few years, it is essential that energy-sensitive individuals gain both a greater awareness of their own personal frequency, and also of their increased tools for navigation. Since the veils are thinner, there is an increase for communication between worlds for those who have crossed over. This also means the astral realms are "busier," especially at the 4D and 5D levels, and this must be considered. —The Keepers, 4.5.2015

I start to wonder how you know for sure if something really is your shine. When did Irma Jean officially know she was a good seamstress? When did Lexie realize she could come up with all those wild hairdos? Did they ever trip up and have to start a new skirt or braid over again - or does a shine always come easily?" -Auggie

I said. I’m a maid. I’m a dancer, she said. She stuck her elbows out and snapped her fingers. Well, I said. I get paid. Well, she said. I get applause. Well, I said. I get paid and with that money I rent an apartment and buy food. And a television. Well, she said. I get applause and with that affirmation of my amazing talent I feel happy and confident and cool. Well, I said. Enjoy your life as a dancer. Well, she said. Enjoy your life as a maid. Thanks, I will, I said. Good, she said. We walked in grim silence towards something else.

Papina had grey hair and a purple face. She was like a trained mouse, one of those small white ones that sit up on their tails and then fall flat, their stomachs slapping the ground. She got up on her tail and stayed there through some miracle of balance, to the confusion of all who saw her walking around on her little bow legs and funny round feet. Yet her hands were so quick and lively that one couldn’t even feel her buttoning up a dress, lacing a belt or pulling a skirt round the hips to adjust it. As she took the blue trousers and yellow sash from the wardrobe for Irma, she walked behind Gioia and shook the girl’s shoulders. “Quickly, my lovely! If you sit there under a spell, the prince can’t carry you off to the wedding…” She’d read all the fairy stories and took delight in being irresistibly droll, so instead of wedding she’d said werewolf; she was imitating Macario, whom she’d seen at the cinema.

En También de dolor se canta tuvo como coprotagonista a Irma Dorantes. En esta cinta, Pedro realiza algunas imitaciones de Emilio Tuero, Tito Guízar y del propio Pedro Vargas, precisamente con el Tenor Continental. “La negra noche” fue la canción de esa escena, ahora de antología. Debe destacarse que siempre hubo una gran amistad y respeto entre estos tocayos, quienes compartieron varios escenarios, como el teatro Million Dollar de Los Angeles. En esa cinta también canta “La barca de Guaymas”, casi un himno en las hermosas tierras sonorenses. Hay también una intervención única del excepcional comediante Germán Valdés, Tin Tan, quien se dirigía a su amigo Pedro diciéndole: “¿Qué pasa mi ídolo?”. Tin Tan y Pedro fueron grandes amigos y admiradores recíprocos del trabajo de cada uno, incluso en algunas temporadas coincidieron en el teatro Follies Bergere. Ambos compartían algunas aficiones. Sobre esto se sabe que, en alguna ocasión, Tin Tan, quien disfrutaba de veras de las delicias del mar, invitó a Pedro a gozar del puerto y bahías de Acapulco, en su yate.

It was long before women knew they could rescue themselves, she once—only once—said mockingly.

1.  Si tuviera que adivinar el propósito de mi vida, ¿cuál sería? 2.  ¿Qué es lo más importante en mi vida? 3.  ¿Qué me encanta hacer, más que cualquier otra cosa? 4.  Si solo me quedaran seis meses de vida, ¿qué me gustaría lograr? 5.  ¿Qué me gustaría dejarle al mundo, como mi legado? 6.  ¿Qué haría con mi vida si supiera que no puedo fallar? 7.  Si el dinero, el tiempo o las responsabilidades actuales no fueran un problema, ¿qué me gustaría hacer con mi vida, más que cualquier otra cosa en el mundo? 8.  ¿Qué actividades he descubierto que me dan más placer? 9.  Cuando era niño, ¿qué soñaba hacer con mi vida? 10. ¿Cuál ha sido el mayor desafío que he superado hasta ahora en mi vida? 11. ¿Podría ayudar a otras personas a superar ese mismo desafío? 12. ¿Qué desafío me encantaría superar y luego ayudar a otros a lograr lo mismo? 13. ¿Quiénes son las personas que más admiro? 14. ¿Por qué admiro a estas personas? 15. ¿Qué cualidades poseen estas personas por las que también me gustaría ser conocido? 16. ¿Cuál es el sueño más grande que he tenido en mi vida? 17. ¿Qué deporte, arte u oficio he disfrutado más? 18. ¿Qué pasatiempos he seguido? 19. ¿Cómo sería mi día perfecto? 20. ¿Qué me gustaría hacer, AHORA MISMO? 21. ¿Qué regalo especial tengo que podría darle al mundo? 22. ¿Qué me hace llorar de alegría? 23. Si me dieran tres deseos, ¿cuáles serían? 24. ¿Qué dice mi corazón que debo hacer con mi vida? 25. ¿Qué cualidades poseo de lo que estoy realmente orgulloso? 26. ¿Qué he hecho en mi vida de lo que estoy realmente orgulloso? 27. Al final de mi vida, ¿qué lamentaría más no haber hecho? 28. Si tuviera que adivinar el propósito de mi vida y comenzar con algo que me emociona, ¿cuál sería?

I know in the blink of an eye. That’s how it is. That’s how you fall in love: in a flash. In less time than it takes to draw a breath.

don’t want to be anyone’s distraction. I want more. I want that thing that takes your breath away. That hurts and makes you happy at the same time. Drives you crazy.

this further example of Irma Onesalt in the role of busybody, to use the belagana term for it. His mother would have called her, in Navajo, a “one who tells sheep which weed to eat.

The cellophane slashed Mrs. Mikelsky’s cheekbone, and after a quick look at Irma, Binz bent at the waist and unleashed her dog. Adelige sat motionless at first, then at the chirp of Binz’s clicker lunged at Mrs. Mikelsky, ears pinned back, teeth bared. The dog clamped her mouth around Mrs. Mikelsky’s hand, shook it side to side, and pulled my teacher to her knees. The dog’s growls echoed around the square as she lunged and bit the neckline of Mrs. Mikelsky’s shift and brought her down onto the snow

AMLO estuvo 18 años esperando llegar a la presidencia. No formó en todo ese tiempo cuadros calificados y competentes para llevar a feliz puerto su ambiciosa agenda. Ni siquiera de la UNAM, con tantos académicos críticos de los anteriores gobiernos, salió un grupo visible de expertos con propuestas bien armadas al servicio del nuevo gobierno. Vimos más migración de la UNAM a la Ciudad de México cuando AMLO ganó la jefatura de Gobierno del entonces DF. El caso más notable es Claudia Sheinbaum. Además de Irma Eréndira Sandoval, el otro funcionario a nivel secretario que venía de ser profesor de tiempo completo de la UNAM es Víctor Toledo, investigador en esa universidad desde 1970. Duró en su cargo 16 meses.

War is a dumb game thought out by men when they become too old to play cowboys and crooks.

A warning: If you rip, tear, shred, bend, fold, deface, disfigure, smear, smudge, throw, drop, or in any other manner damage, mistreat, or show lack of respect towards this book, the consequences will be as awful as it is within my power to make them. - Irma Pince, Hogwarts Librarian

The accused were: Joseph Kramer, Dr. Fritz Klein, Peter Weingartner, Georg Kraft, Franz Hoessler, Juana Borman, Elizabeth Volkenrath, Herta Ehlert, Irma Grese, Ilse Lothe, Hilde Lobauer, Josef Klippel, Oscar Schmitz, Karl Francioh, Fritz Mathes, Otto Calesson, Medislaw Burgraf, Karl Egersdorf, Anchor Pichen, Walter Otto, Franz Stofel, Heinrich Schreirer, Wilhelm Dorr, Eric Barsch, Erich Zoddel, Ignatz Schlomowicz, Vladislav Ostrowski, Antoni Aurdzieg, Ilse Forster, Ida Forster, Klara Opitz, Charlotte Klein, Herta Bothe, Frieda Waiter, Irene Haschke, Gertrud Fiest, Gertrud Sauer, Hilda Lisiewitz, Johanne Roth, Anna Hempel, Hildegard Hahnel, Helena Kopper, Antoni Polanski, Stanislawa Starotska and Ladislaw Gura.

How dull seem the charlottes of our youth, with only a cream and a cherry, when compared with those put together in the sophisticated society we now seem to frequent!

His voice, like the pluck of a bass guitar, reverberated through her, sending a shiver up the back of her neck. Irma quickly revised her assessment of Ezra from confident to dangerous.

what to do, so she knelt behind

Do you think you can change them?” Irma asked. “No,” Samantha said, and squeezed Irma’s hand. “Why haven’t you changed your expectations of them?