Iss Quotes

Itt iss Eevill…" "What is going to happen?" "Wee wwill cconnttinnue tto ffightt!"… "And we’re not alone, you know, children," came Mrs.Whatsit, the comforter. "…some of the best fighters have come from your own planet…" "Who have our fighters been?" Calvin asked. "Oh, you must know them, dear," Mrs.Whatsit said. Mrs.Who’s spectacles shone out at them triumphantly. "And the light shineth in the darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.

Ideally, the ISS program will just be one more incremental step on an expanding, incredible journal of exploration and understanding, taking us higher and farther.

I have tried drugs and a little of everything else, and there iss nothing in the world more soul-satisfying than having the kingdom of God building inside you and growing.

Salaar Sikandar nay pichlay aath saalon mai Imama Hashim kay liye her jazba mehsoos kiya tha. Hiqaarat,tazheek,pachtaawa,nafrat,mohabbat sab kuch......Magar aaj wahan bethay pehli baar ussay Imama Hashim say hasad horaha tha.Thi kiya woh......?Aik aurat.....Zara si aurat....Asmaan ki hoor nahi thi....Salaar Sikandar jesay aadmi kay saamnay kiya auqaat thi uss ki. Kiya mera jesa I.Q Level tha uss ka?Kiya meray jesi kamiyaabiyaan theen us ki?Kiya meray jesa kaam karsakti thi woh?Kiya meray jesa naam kama sakti thi?Kuch bhi nahi thi woh aur uss ko sab kuch plate mai rakh kar day diya aur main......Main jis ka I.Q Level 150+ hai mujhay saamnay ki cheezain dekhnay kay qaabil nahi rakha?Woh ab aankhon mai nami liye andheray mai wind screen say baahar dekhtay hue barbara raha tha."Mujhay bus iss qaabil kardiya kay main baahar nikloon aur duniya fatah kar loon.Woh duniya jis ki koi wuq'at hi nahi hai aur woh....woh...."Woh ruk gaya.Ussay Imama per ghussa araha tha.Aath saal pehlay ka waqt hota tu woh ussay "Bitch" kehta,tab Imama per ghussa anay per woh ussay yehi kaha karta tha magar aath saal kay baad aaj woh zabaan per uss kay liye gaali nahi la sakta tha.Woh Imama Hashim kay liye koi bura lafz nikalnay ki jurrat nahi kar sakta tha.Siraat-e-Mustaqeem per khud say bohat aagay khari uss aurat kay liye kaun zabaan say bura lag nikaal sakta tha?Apnay glasses utaar kar uss nay apni aankhain masleen.Uss kay andaaz mai shikast khoordagi thi."Pir-e-Kamil(S.A.W.W)......Siraat-e-Mustaqeem....Aath saal lagay thay,magar talash khatam hogayi thi.Jawab mil chuka tha.

If we adopt the same collaborative mindset and practices that got to the moon and back, and that built the International Space Station, we can alleviate poverty—and do much more.

The word "miss" is so wistful. As is the word "wistful," for that matter. They both have sighs embedded in them, that "iss" sound. Which also sounds like if.

life iss just like a voyage where the waaves of time pushes us forward

Weightlessness was wonderful, and I was surprised at how natural it felt.

The ISS would not be the incredibly capable orbiting research facility it is today without either Russians or Americans, just as it couldn't have been built without the Canadian arm used in its construction.

Where iss it, where iss it: my Precious, my Precious? It's ours, it is, and we wants it. The thieves, the thieves, the filthy little thieves. Where are they with my Precious? Curse them! We hates them.

Gunaah ka bojh kiya hota hai aur aadmi apnay gunaah kay bojh ko kiss tarah qayaamat kay din apni pusht say utaar phainkna chahay ga kiss tarah uss say door bhaagna chahay ga kiss tarah doosray kay kandhay per daal dena chahay ga,yeh uss ki samajh mai Haram Shareef mai pohanch kar aya tha.Wahan kharay ho kar woh apnay paas mojood aur anay wali saari zindagi ki daulat kay aiwaz bhi kisi ko woh guna ah baichna chahta tu koi yeh tijarat na karta.Kaash aadmi kisi maal kay aiwaz apnay gunaah baich sakta.Kisi ujrat kay taur per doosron ki naikiyaan mangnay ka haq rakhta.Laakhon loagon kay iss hujoom mai 2 sufaid chaadarain orhay,kaun janta tha kay Salaar Sikandar kaun tha?Uss ka I.Q Level kiya tha.Kissay parwah thi?Uss kay paas kaun kaunsi aur kahan ki Degree thi.Kissay hosh tha?Uss nay zindagi kay Maidaan mai kitnay taleemi record toray aur banaye thay.Kissay khabar thi woh apnay zehan kay kaun say maidaan taskheer karnay wala tha.Kaun rashk karnay wala tha?Woh wahan uss hujoom mai thokar kha kar girta,Bhagdar mai ronda jata.Uss kay ooper say guzarnay wali khalqat mai say koi bhi yeh nahin sochta kay unhone kaisay dimaagh ko kho diya hai.Kiss I.Q Level kay nayaab aadmi ko kis tarah khatam kar diya tha.Ussay duniya mai apni auqaat,apni ahmiyat ka pata chal gaya tha.Agar kuch mughaalita reh bhi gaya tha tu ab khatam hogaya tha.Agar kuch shubah baaqi tha,tu ab door hogaya tha.Fakhar,takabbur,rashk,ana,khudpasandi,khud sataayishi kay her bachay hue tukray ko nichor kar uss nay andar say phaink diya tha.Woh in hi alaaishon ko door karwanay kay liye wahan aya tha.

At this point I thought 'We made it,' by which I meant 'We survived.' I also was acutely aware that my childhood dream of flying into space had just come true.

Woh harh jagah mojood heh. Iss ghar keh dar-o-diwar bhee rotay-henh.

Data gathered on the Shuttle and ISS help power Google Maps;

Thee onnlly wway ttoo ccope withh ssometthingg ddeadly sseriouss iss ttoo ttry ttoo trreatt itt a llittlle lligghtly.

DIE KARTOFFELSORTIERMASCHINE rüttelte im Bogen=Lampen=Licht: Nichts Niemand Nirgends Nie! / Umdient von 4 Lemuren in fahler Tracht: die Schatten flohen manchmal entsetzt vor ihren eigenen Herren davon. (Zaunzu hülfesuchend? – Bei uns iss ooch keene.)

Click. The salamander flared, etching the room with searing white light and dark shadows. Otto screamed. He fell to the floor, clutching at his throat. He sprang to his feet, goggle-eyed and gasping, and staggered, knock-kneed and wobbly-legged, the length of the room and back again. He sank down behind a desk , scattering paperwork with a wildly flailing hand. "Aarghaarghaaaargh..." There was a shocked silence. Otto stood up, adjusted his cravat, and dusted himself off. Only then did he look up at the row of shocked faces. "Vel?" he said sternly. "Vat are you all looking at? It is just a normal reaction, zat is all. I am vorking on it. Light in all its forms is mine passion. Light is my canvas, shadows are my brush." But strong light hurts you!" said Sacharissa. "It hurts vampires!" "Yes. It iss a bit of a bugger, but zere you go.

Yess, Exccellenccy. Larsst iss my name.

Bhulaney ke liay bhi tujhy yaad tu kerna hoga, Magar her yaad se hain wabasta teri hazaar baatain, Teri in baaton ka kahin tu hisaab hoga, Faqat guzri hain iss fikr mein meri hazaar raatain.

- Ahh... I've never seen that before. - What? - Someone wearing glasses up here. - Really? Then that should tell how urgent the situation is. Boris Ivanowich to Kate Mishima, on board of ISS

The ISS moves so quickly that if you fired a rifle bullet from one end of a football field,7 the International Space Station could cross the length of the field before the bullet traveled 10 yards.8

There must be a concerted effort to turn people away from fundamentalist Islam. Imagine a platform for Muslim dissidents that communicated their message through YouTube, Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram. Imagine ten reformist magazines for every one issue of IS’s “Dibuq” or Al-Qaeda’s “Inspire”. Such a strategy would also give us an opportunity to shift our alliances to those Muslim individuals and groups who actually share our values and practices – those who fight for a true Reformation and who find themselves maligned and marginalized by those nations and leaders and imams whom we now embrace as allies.

Typically, the last minute is also when you finally get around to doing all the little things you’ve been meaning to do for months: shooting a video tour of the ISS to show friends and family back home, taking photos of crewmates in bizarre, only-in-space poses and, just because you can, peeing upside down.

Gern hätte er Europa jetzt aus der internationalen Weltraumstation ISS gesehen. Wo sonst die feinen Adern und leuchtenden Knoten des Lichtsystems bis ins All strahlten, musste über weiten Flächen Dunkelheit liegen.

[...] “What were you going to do if he’d refused ?” Jaenelle looked at him and smiled. Butterflies filled his stomach and tickled unmercifully before turning into heavy, sinking stones. “Well,” his darling said, “you have a wonderful deep voice too. So if Papa refused, I was going to ask you.” Saetan walked into the sitting room where he’d asked Geoffrey and Draca, the Keep’s Seneschal, to meet him. “My friends, this bottle of wine arrived this evening, compliments of Prince Sadi. Since it came from the wine cellar at the Hall, I can assure you it is a very fine vintage, one best enjoyed when shared.” He called in three glasses and opened the wine. Draca said nothing until he handed her a glass. “What iss the occassion ?” Saetan grinned. “My son has just realized how much his father loves him.

I think what makes life matter,what makes it good,is knowing that someday we`ll die. Maybe death is God`s joke on us but I think it is also his gift.We have our allotted time and the is`s over.It`s up to us to make in meaningful and special.

Space flight participants, commonly known as space tourists, pay between $20 and $40 million each to leave Earth for 10 days or so and go to the International Space Station (ISS) via Soyuz, the compact Russian rocket that is now the only way for humans to get to the ISS.

On the Soyuz, there’s simply not room to fly someone whose main contribution is expertise in a single area. The Russian rocket ship only carries three people, and between them they need to cover off a huge matrix of skills. Some are obvious: piloting the rocket, spacewalking, operating the robotic elements of the ISS like Canadarm2, being able to repair things that break on Station, conducting and monitoring the numerous scientific experiments on board. But since the crew is going to be away from civilization for many months, they also need to be able to do things like perform basic surgery and dentistry, program a computer and rewire an electrical panel, take professional-quality photographs and conduct a press conference—and get along harmoniously with colleagues, 24/7, in a confined space.

It drives me nuts that our food specialist insist on giving us the same number of chocolate, vanilla, and butterscotch puddings, when the laws of physics dictate chocolate will disappear much faster. No one gets a vanilla craving in space (or on earth).

NASA astronauts have only managed to live continuously on the International Space Station (ISS) for a year and Biosphere 2 on Earth failed at two years of uninterrupted human habitation. Both cases required extracting the sickened people from the toxic environments. At this point it is ludicrous to talk about a permanent manned base on Mars.

I lay on my back, surprised at how calm and focused I felt, strapped to four and a half million pounds of explosives.

I am the Sovereign of Iss!” the girl declared. “And you are the daughter of Ciwril Xidyla! They had better listen to us.

dukh hai dard hai toh dawaa hai dosti,iss ghutan bhari zindagi ki haseen fiza hai dosti.jo na samjhe uske liye kuch nahi,jo samjhe uske liye khuda hai dosti.

I never get drunk. Never. Iss the beer's fault. I'm strong, but the beer must be sssssstrooooooong.-Niklass

The ISS moves so quickly that if you fired a rifle bullet from one end of a football field, [ 7 ] the International Space Station could cross the length of the field before the bullet traveled 10 yards. [ 8 ]

What'd you like me to buy you, Nan? Some pearls or--" She stopped before him, planted her arms akimbo, and spoke furiously. "I am not vot you call a gold-digger! I am not lady enough! If when you get tired of me, you vant to give me a hundred dollars--or fifty--fine. But you must, by God, understand, when Nande Azeredo takes a man, it iss because she likes him! Pearls? What would I do with pearls? Can I eat pearls?

I realized that I would never have corrected somebody who said “you can feel the food.” That was how Owen would end up with students who said “savor,” while I would end up with students who said “papel iss blonk.

Why would I what?” Will asked, wanting another bite of his burger. “Why would you risk your job teaching some stupid fantasy book?” “Because alternative universe literature promotes critical thinking, imagination, empathy, and creative problem solving. Children who are fluent in fiction are more able to interpret nonfiction and are better at understanding things like basic cause and effect, sociology, politics, and the impact of historical events on current events. Many of our technological advances were imagined by science fiction writers before the tech became available to create them, and many of today’s inventors were inspired by science fiction and fantasy to make a world more like the world in the story. Many of today’s political conundrums were anticipated by science fiction writers like Orwell, Huxley, and Heinlein, and sci-fi and fantasy tackle ethical problems in a way that allows people to analyze the problem with some emotional remove, which is important because the high emotions are often what lead to violence. Works like Harry Potter tackle the idea of abuse of power and—” Will stopped himself and swallowed. Everybody at the table, including Kenny, was staring at him in openmouthed surprise. “Anyway,” he said before taking a monster bite of his cooling hamburger on a sudden attack of nerves, “iss goomfer umf.” “It’s good for us,” Kenny translated, sounding a little stunned

After each and every mission, he left me gifts outside of my bedroom door. No, that wasn’t a joke. Only two weeks ago I had found a severed head outside of my bedroom in a large box wrapped with a black silk bow. I mean… who does that? It was very sweet!

Aestus erat, mediamque dies exegerat horam; adposui medio membra levanda toro. pars adaperta fuit, pars altera clausa fenestrae; quale fere silvae lumen habere solent, qualia sublucent fugiente crepuscula Phoebo, aut ubi nox abiit, nec tamen orta dies. illa verecundis lux est praebenda puellis, qua timidus latebras speret habere pudor. ecce, Corinna venit, tunica velata recincta, candida dividua colla tegente coma— qualiter in thalamos famosa Semiramis isse dicitur, et multis Lais amata viris. Deripui tunicam—nec multum rara nocebat; pugnabat tunica sed tamen illa tegi. quae cum ita pugnaret, tamquam quae vincere nollet, victa est non aegre proditione sua. ut stetit ante oculos posito velamine nostros, in toto nusquam corpore menda fuit. quos umeros, quales vidi tetigique lacertos! forma papillarum quam fuit apta premi! quam castigato planus sub pectore venter! quantum et quale latus! quam iuvenale femur! Singula quid referam? nil non laudabile vidi et nudam pressi corpus ad usque meum. Cetera quis nescit? lassi requievimus ambo. proveniant medii sic mihi saepe dies!

Eins var algengt hjá okkur ef spurt var um líðan einhvers manns: iss hann er feitur; en það þýddi að honum liði vel, eða einsog sagt mundi vera í Danmörku, að hann væri hamingjusamur. Ef einhverjum leið illa, þá var sagt sem svo: æ það hálfsér á honum; og væri sá nær dauða en lífi sem um var rætt, þá var sagt: æ það er í er í honum einhver lurða. Ef einhver var um það bil að verða ellidauður, þá var sagt: æjá hann er hættur að bleyta smjörið. Um þann sem lá banaleguna var sagt: já hann er nú að berja nestið auminginn. Um dauðvona ungling var sagt að það liti ekki út fyrir að hann ætti að kemba hærurnar.

The Shuttle was retired in 2011, after 30 years in service, and today the Soyuz, a much smaller vehicle, is the only way for human beings to get to the ISS. Some astronauts hired during the Shuttle era are simply too tall to fly in the tiny Soyuz. The possibility that they’ll leave Earth is currently zero.

यह चाँद उदित होकर नभ में कुछ ताप मिटाता जीवन का, लहरालहरा यह शाखाएँ कुछ शोक भुला देती मन का, कल मुर्झानेवाली कलियाँ हँसकर कहती हैं मगन रहो, बुलबुल तरु की फुनगी पर से संदेश सुनाती यौवन का, तुम देकर मदिरा के प्याले मेरा मन बहला देती हो, उस पार मुझे बहलाने का उपचार न जाने क्या होगा! इस पार, प्रिये मधु है तुम हो, उस पार न जाने क्या होगा!

The global population of Earth are involved in the following corporate government experiments: The long term effects of - 1. Nuclear bomb fallout radiation. 2. Man-made wireless radio frequency (RF) radiation. 3. Exposure to man-made electricity. 4. Eclipsing of the Sun by the International Space Station (ISS), satellites, airplanes and jet aircraft contrails (chemtrails). 5. Eating food forced grown using a variety of toxic industrial chemicals. 6. Adding massive amounts of pollution to the atmosphere and water bodies. 7. Living in metal structures. 8. Exposure to abnormally high solar radiation levels. 9. Relocating to areas that the human has no genetic adaptation to. 10. An indoor lifestyle.

Go shout it on top of the mountain, but don't pretend the mountain is yours.

I’m not okay. I’m not okay at all with the prospect of losing you, whether that’s to a god terror, humans, or your own fucking magic.

Hello International Space Station, goodbye civilization.

The ISS is a remarkable achievement of technology and international cooperation. It has been inhabited nonstop since November 2, 2000; put another way, it has been more than fourteen years since all humans were on the Earth at once. It is by far the longest-inhabited structure in space and has been visited by more than two hundred people from sixteen nations. It’s the largest peacetime international project in history.

Anna? Anna,are you there? I've been waiting in the lobby for fifteen minutes." A scrambling noise,and St. Clair curses from the floorboards. "And I see your light's off.Brilliant. Could've mentioned you'd decided to go on without me." I explode out of bed. I overslept! I can't believe I overslept! How could this happen? St. Clair's boots clomp away,and his suitcase drags heavily behind him. I throw open my door. Even though they're dimmed this time of night,the crystal sconces in the hall make me blink and shade my eyes. St. Clair twists into focus.He's stunned. "Anna?" "Help," I gasp. "Help me." He drops his suitcase and runs to me. "Are you all right? What happened?" I pull him in and flick on my light. The room is illuminated in its disheveled entirety. My luggage with its zippers open and clothes piled on top like acrobats. Toiletries scattered around my sink. Bedsheets twined into ropes. And me. Belatedly, I remember that not only is my hair crazy and my face smeared with zit cream,but I'm also wearing matching flannel Batman pajamas. "No way." He's gleeful. "You slept in? I woke you up?" I fall to the floor and frantically squish clothes into my suitcase. "You haven't packed yet?" "I was gonna finish this morning! WOULD YOU FREAKING HELP ALREADY?" I tug on a zipper.It catches a yellow Bat symbol, and I scream in frustration. We're going to miss our flight. We're going to iss it,and it's my fault. And who knows when the next plane will leave, and we'll be stuck here all day, and I'll never make it in time for Bridge and Toph's show. And St. Clair's mom will cry when she has to go to the hospital without him for her first round of internal radiation, because he'll be stuck iin an airport on the other side of the world,and its ALL. MY FAULT. "Okay,okay." He takes the zipper and wiggles it from my pajama bottoms. I make a strange sound between a moan and a squeal. The suitcase finally lets go, and St. Clair rests his arms on my shoulders to steady them. "Get dressed. Wipe your face off.I'll takecare of the rest." Yes,one thing at a time.I can do this. I can do this. ARRRGH! He packs my clothes. Don't think about him touching your underwear. Do NOT think about him touching your underwear. I grab my travel outfit-thankfully laid out the night before-and freeze. "Um." St. Clair looks up and sees me holding my jeans. He sputters. "I'll, I'll step out-" "Turn around.Just turn around, there's not time!" He quickly turns,and his shoulders hunch low over my suitcase to prove by posture how hard he is Not Looking.

What the hell is all this I read in the papers?" "Narrow it down for me," Alan suggested. "I suppose it might have been a misprint," Daniel considered, frowning at the tip of his cigar before he tapped it in the ashtray he kept secreted in the bottom drawer of his desk. "I think I know my own flesh and blood well enough." "Narrow it just a bit further," Alan requested, though he'd already gotten the drift.It was simply too good to end it too soon. "When I read that my own son-my heir, as things are-is spending time fraternizing with a Campbell, I know it's a simple matter of misspelling. What's the girl's name?" Along with a surge of affection, Alan felt a tug of pure and simple mischief. "Which girl is that?" "Dammit,boy! The girl you're seeing who looks like a pixie.Fetching young thing from the picture I saw.Good bones; holds herself well." "Shelby," Alan said, then waited a beat. "Shelby Campbell." Dead silence.Leaning back in his chair, Alan wondered how long it would be before his father remembered to take a breath. It was a pity, he mused, a real pity that he couldn't see the old pirate's face. "Campbell!" The word erupted. "A thieving, murdering Campbell!" "Yes,she's fond of MacGregor's as well." "No son of mine gives the time of day to one of the clan Campbell!" Daniel bellowed. "I'll take a strap to you, Alan Duncan MacGregor!" The threat was as empty now as it had been when Alan had been eight, but delivered in the same full-pitched roar. "I'll wear the hide off you." "You'll have the chance to try this weekend when you meet Shelby." "A Campbell in my house! Hah!" "A Campbell in your house," Alan repeated mildly. "And a Campbell in your family before the end of the year if I have my way." "You-" Emotions warred in him. A Campbell versus his firmest aspiration: to see each of his children married and settled, and himself laden with grandchildren. "You're thinking of marriage to a Campbell?" "I've already asked her.She won't have me...yet," he added. "Won't have you!" Paternal pride dominated all else. "What kind of a nitwit is she? Typical Campbell," he muttered. "Mindless pagans." Daniel suspected they'd had some sorcerers sprinkled among them. "Probably bewitched the boy," he mumbled, scowling into space. "Always had good sense before this.Aye, you bring your Campbell to me," he ordered roundly. "I'll get to the bottom of it." Alan smothered a laugh, forgetting the poor mood that had plagued him only minutes earlier. "I'll ask her." "Ask? Hah! You bring the girl, that daughter of a Campbell, here." Picturing Shelby, Alan decided he wouldn't iss the meeting for two-thirds the popular vote. "I'll see you Friday, Dad.Give Mom my love." "Friday," Daniel muttered, puffing avidly on his cigar. "Aye,aye, Friday." As he hung up Alan could all but see his father rubbing his huge hands togther in anticipation. It should be an interesting weekened.

us when you aren’t happy.” “But I must know what happens to the children,” the Medium said. “It’s my worst trouble, getting fond. If I didn’t get fond I could be happy all the time. Oh, well, ho hum, I manage to keep pretty jolly, and a little snooze will do wonders for me right now. Good-bye, everyb—” and her word got lost in the general b-b-bz-z of a snore. “Ccome,” Mrs Which ordered, and they followed her out of the darkness of the cave to the impersonal grayness of the Medium’s planet. “Nnoww, cchilldrenn, yyouu musstt nott bee frrightennedd att whatt iss ggoingg tto hhappenn,” Mrs Which warned. “Stay angry, little Meg,” Mrs Whatsit

I don’t like Amun,” he explained simply, his eyes glinting with a familiar darkness. “In fact, I have the extremely present and compulsive urge to rip out his throat. I need you, my perfect little flower, to tell me that’s okay and that you won’t be mad at me for doing so and then disposing of his body out back. I know you love the garden out there, but I promise it’s good for the flowers. I mean, clearly it is—think how beautiful it is out there! That is thanks to several, okay—maybe more than several—very well-placed decaying bodies. So really this would be a very advantageous thing.

The speaker standing on an upturned barrel at the intersection of 135th Street and Seventh Avenue was shouting monotonously: “BLACK POWER! BLACK POWER! Is you is? Or is you ain’t? We gonna march this night! March! March! March! Oh, when the saints — yeah, baby! We gonna march this night!” Spit flew from his looselipped mouth. His flabby jowls flopped up and down. His rough brown skin was greasy with sweat. His dull red eyes looked tired. “Mistah Charley been scared of BLACK POWER since the day one. That’s why Noah shuffled us off to Africa the time of the flood. And all this time we been laughing to keep from whaling.” He mopped his sweating face with a red bandanna handkerchief. He belched and swallowed. His eyes looked vacant. His mouth hung open as though searching for words. “Can’t keep this up,” he said under his breath. No one heard him. No one noticed his behavior. No one cared. He swallowed loudly and screamed. “TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT! We launch our whale boats. Iss the night of the great white whale. You dig me, baby?” He was a big man and flabby all over like his jowls. Night had fallen but the black night air was as hot as the bright day air, only there was less of it. His white short-sleeved shirt was sopping wet. A ring of sweat had formed about the waist of his black alpaca pants as though the top of his potbelly had begun to melt. “You want a good house? You got to whale! You want a good car? You got to whale! You want a good job? You got to whale! You dig me?” His conked hair was dripping sweat. For a big flabby middle-aged man who would have looked more at home in a stud poker game, he was unbelievably hysterical. He waved his arms like an erratic windmill. He cut a dance step. He shuffled like a prizefighter. He shadowed with clenched fists. He shouted. Spit flew. “Whale! Whale! WHALE, WHITEY! WE GOT THE POWER! WE IS BLACK! WE IS PURE!” A crowd of Harlem citizens dressed in holiday garb had assembled to listen. They crowded across the sidewalks, into the street, blocking traffic. They were clad in the chaotic colors of a South American jungle. They could have been flowers growing on the banks of the Amazon, wild orchids of all colors. Except for their voices. “What’s he talking ’bout?” a high-yellow chick with bright red hair wearing a bright green dress that came down just below her buttocks asked the tall slim black man with smooth carved features and etched hair. “Hush yo’ mouth an’ lissen,” he replied harshly, giving her a furious look from the corners of muddy, almond-shaped eyes. “He tellin’ us what black power mean!

I love you, I love you very very much naina mein aankhein band karti hun to tumhain dekhti hun aankhe kholti hun to tumhain dekhna chahti hun tum paas nahi hote to tumhain chaarun taraf mehsoos karti hun har pal har ghadi har waqt merre naina tumhi ko doondate hain isse pyar kaho paagalpan ya mere dil ki dhadkan mere liye ek hi baat hai pyar to bahut log karte hain lekin mere jaisa pyar koi nahi kar sakta kyonki kisi ke paas tum jo nahi ho mein tumhain bhool nahi sakti mein tumhain bhoolna hi nahi chahti tum mere ho, mein tumhain zindagi bhar pyar karungi marte dam tak pyar karungi aur us k baad bhi...

Along with explosive and tactical training, our training on small arms began. The NCO instructors conducted the weapons training but they were not comfortable dealing with university students. Often tricky situations would arise. Two examples would illustrate the nature of the problem. In the Pakistan Army, soldiers of the East Bengal Regiment were taught their craft in Roman Urdu. The NCOs tried to teach us just as they were taught. They began with kholna-jorna (stripping and assembling). Our NCO instructor started the class by saying "Iss purza ko kehta hae..." (this part is known as ...) in Urdu. "Why are you speaking in Urdu?" we protested immediately. "Urdu is the army’s language!" "The Pakistan Army's language! This is the Bangladesh army! No Urdu here! And if you don't speak in Bangla we won’t listen to you!" we told him. The complaint reached the Subedar Major. He was not pleased with our 'mutiny' and said the Dacca University boys don’t listen to their ustad (teacher). "You have to listen to them," he told us. We told him the same thing; why was the NCO speaking to us in Urdu? "We are Bengalis. He is from Noakhali, and if he wants he can even speak in his dialect and we’ll try our best to understand, but no Urdu!" When the Subedar Major’s intervention didn’t work, the matter went up to Khaled Mosharraf who was greatly amused. "Shalara, they are such fools! It has not yet dawned on them that they no longer have to speak in Urdu!" he said, laughing. He immediately issued an order: Henceforth there would be no more communication in Urdu.

It vas callt serge de Nîmes,” Jacob explained, proffering some stiff blue britches for my examination. “But now everyone iss only callink it denim,” Levi said, smiling. “Vee don’t care vat zey call it, zo long as zey buy it. Come! Look!

I thought the submarine environment would be a useful analogy for the space station in a number of ways, and I especially wanted my colleagues to get an up-close look at how the Navy deals with CO2. What we learned on that trip was illuminating: the Navy has their submarines turn on their air scrubbers when the CO2 concentration rises above two millimeters of mercury, even though the scrubbers are noisy and risk giving away the submarine’s location. By comparison, the international agreement on ISS says the CO2 is acceptable up to six millimeters of mercury! The submarine’s chief engineering officer explained to us that the symptoms of high CO2 posed a threat to their work, so keeping that level low was a priority. I felt that NASA should be thinking of it the same way. When I prepared for my first flight on the ISS, I got acquainted with a new carbon dioxide removal system. The lithium hydroxide cartridges were foolproof and reliable, but that system depended on cartridges that were to be thrown away after use—not very practical, since hundreds of cartridges would be required to get through a single six-month mission. So instead we now have a device called the carbon dioxide removal assembly, or CDRA, pronounced “seedra,” and it has become the bane of my existence. There are two of them—one in the U.S. lab and one in Node 3. Each weighs about five hundred pounds and looks something like a car engine. Covered in greenish brown insulation, the Seedra is a collection of electronic boxes, sensors, heaters, valves, fans, and absorbent beds. The absorbent beds use a zeolite crystal to separate the CO2 from the air, after which the lab Seedra dumps the CO2 out into space through a vacuum valve, while the Node 3 Seedra combines oxygen drawn from the CO2 with leftover hydrogen from our oxygen-generating system in a device called Sabatier. The result is water—which we drink—and methane, which is also vented overboard.

In fact, there is much crossover between these categories of research. If we can learn how to counteract the devastating impact of bone loss in microgravity, the solutions may well be applied to osteoporosis and other bone diseases. If we can learn how to keep our hearts healthy in space, that knowledge will be useful for heart health on Earth. The effects of living in space look a lot like those of aging, which affect us all. The lettuce we will grow later in the year is a study for future space travel—astronauts on their way to Mars will have no fresh food but what they can grow—but it is also teaching us more about growing food efficiently on Earth. The closed water system developed for the ISS, where we process our urine into clean water, is crucial for getting to Mars, but it also has promising implications for treating water on Earth, especially in places where clean water is scarce. This overlapping of scientific goals isn’t new—when Captain Cook traveled the Pacific it was for the purpose of exploration, but the scientists traveling with him picked up plants along the way and revolutionized the field of botany. Was the purpose of Cook’s expedition scientific or exploratory? Does it matter, ultimately? It will be remembered for both, and I hope the same is true of my time on the space station.

Baatein hain kuch jo ankahi reh gayi hain, Tumhari humari yaadon ki gehraiyon mein, Iss dil ki aarzoo abhi adhuri reh gayi hai, Rukna tum vahin jahan mila karte the hum, Kyunki raaste mein humari parchaiyaan reh gayi hain, Tumhare bina zindgi kaisi hogi kuch pta nahi, Abhi jeene mein kuch kamiyaan reh gayi hain!

The film was great—we were impressed by how real the ISS looked, and the five of us were an unusually tough audience in that regard. It was a bit like watching a film of your own house burning while you’re inside it.

A U.S. serviceman, standing nearby, was not so content. He yelled at the Czechs to stop. “The war is over, so halt your bullying!” he shouted. Some of his buddies agreed. That was too much for Hana. “How dare you?” she demanded of the American. “Where in the States are you from, anyway?” “Mississippi,” he said. “Miss-iss-ip-pi?” said Hana, drawing out the syllables sarcastically. “I see. So you’ve come all the way from Miss-iss-ip-pi to tell us in Czech-o-slo-vakia how we should treat our traitorous Nazi scum, our prisoners. You find it too much if we humiliate those dregs of humanity by making them sing Czech folk tunes? Where have you been all this time? Do you know what they have done? Do you know they tortured and killed millions? Or haven’t you heard? Or maybe,” said Hana, drawing a deep breath, “you sympathize with them because you float dead Negroes down your river?” Her words caused a commotion: furious and indignant soldiers gathered round; Hana’s own phrase was thrown back at her: “How dare you?” Another American intervened. “She’s absolutely right,” he said. “I’ve just come from those camps where we’ve been liberating the inmates. You should see it. Besides, these Germans are not being harmed in any way.” Turning to the first soldier, he said, “Let’s you and I keep out of it, okay?

La scienza vive di domande. Non ha risposte, se non perfettibili. Con un lavorio lento e paziente, allarga la chiazza di luce che è la conoscenza, alleviando le sofferenze materiali dell'umanità, rendendo le nostre vite più lunghe e confortevoli, le forme della vita associata più sofisticate ed efficaci. Ma non elimina l'oscurità. Più la chiazza di luce si allarga, più grande diventa, al contrario, il confine da cui ci si affaccia sul mistero. La scienza non è arrogante. Osserva e misura, azzarda spiegazioni e previsioni, fa errori e si corregge, ma abbraccia anche con lucidità limiti e incertezze. Rifiuta di accettare l'esistenza dell'inspiegabile, ma sa anche che la strada per la comprensione del tutto è forse così lunga che immaginarne la fine è un esercizio vano. Per chi sia tentato dalla presunzione di spiegare ogni cosa e dall'illusione di poter controllare la propria vita, il firmamento è un maestro che umilia e consola al tempo stesso. Forse come il rapporto con Dio per le persone religiose. Io non mi considero tale da molto tempo: la fede ricevuta in eredità non è sopravvissuta agli anni dell'adolescenza e oggi avrei difficoltà insormontabili a immaginare un Dio persona o una religione che non sia prodotto della storia umana. Non me ne rammarico. Ho fiducia nell'etica laica e nella vita ho visto virtù e meschinità distribuite grosso modo egualmente tra persone religiose o meno. Ma alle prime, questo si, invidio la facilità del contatto con il trascendente. Chi, come me, non frequenta chiese, sinagoghe, moschee o templi, dovrebbe se non altro frequentare con assiduità la volta celeste.

Dard baantne se Kam hota hai, jitna baanto utna kum. Par hamesha aisa nahi hota, kabhi kabhi dard ho hota hai par zubaan se bahar nahi aa pata, kyunki hamara dard hume sambhalta hai, sikhata hai. Iss tarah k dard ko likh dena chahiye, ye vo dard hai vo sirf likh k kum hota hai.

For a time, the shuttles and the ISS collectively consumed nearly half of NASA’s total budget, all while offering only the slimmest fraction of scientific returns in comparison to drastically less expensive robotic exploration.

Suicide iss just for the body,” the German said. “The body settles nothing. It iss of no importance. It iss just to be kept clean when possible.

knows his job    b. ( = technique) skill ; ( = expérience) experience• avoir du métier to have practical experience 2. compounds ► métier à tisser loom métis, -isse [metis]

Ton: »Iss das jetzt. Durch mein Gebäck

Khird-Mandon Se Kya Puchon Ke Meri Ibtida Kya Hai Ke Main Iss Fikar Mein Rehta Hun, Meri Intiha Kya Hai What should I ask the sages about my origin: I am always wanting to know my goal.

A bubble is a fragile thing, and often in the evening the professors talked worriedly about its bursting. They worried about political correctness, about their colleague on TV with a twenty-year-old female student screaming abuse into her face from a distance of three inches because of a disagreement over campus journalism, their colleague in another TV news story abused for not wanting to ban Pocahontas costumes on Halloween, their colleague forced to take at least one seminar’s sabbatical because he had not sufficiently defended a student’s “safe space” from the intrusion of ideas that student deemed too “unsafe” for her young mind to encounter, their colleague defying a student petition to remove a statue of President Jefferson from his college campus in spite of the repressible fact that Jefferson had owned slaves, their colleague excoriated by students with evangelical Christian family histories for asking them to read a graphic novel by a lesbian cartoonist, their colleague forced to cancel a production of Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues because by defining women as persons with vaginas it discriminated against persons identifying as female who did not possess vaginas, their colleagues resisting student efforts to “de-platform” apostate Muslims because their views were offensive to non-apostate Muslims. They worried that young people were becoming pro-censorship, pro-banning-things, pro-restrictions, how did that happen, they asked me, the narrowing of the youthful American mind, we’re beginning to fear the young. “Not you, of course, darling, who could be scared of you,” my mother reassured me, to which my father countered, “Scared for you, yes. Vith this Trotskyist beard you insist on wearing you look like an ice-pick target to me. Avoid Mexico City, especially de Coyoacán neighborhood. This iss my advice.” In the evenings they sat in pools of yellow light, books on their laps, lost in words. They looked like figures in a Rembrandt painting, Two Philosophers Deep in Meditation, and they were more valuable than any canvas; maybe members of the last generation of their kind, and we, we who are post-, who come after, will regret we did not learn more at their feet.

As a researcher, I am curious to know the rates of masturbation aboard the International Space Station (ISS).

Hast du anfangs keinen Erfolg, iss Kuchen." - "Verstehe. Funktioniert es?" - "Immer.

believe he iss right. He iss learning thingss fasst,” Zerith said as he peeled a piece of joobla fruit. “Perssonally, I think it comess from hiss mother’ss sside.

Where iss it, where iss it: my Precious, my Precious? It’s ours, it is, and we wants it. The thieves, the thieves, the filthy little thieves. Where are they with my Precious? Curse them! We hates them.

Gedicht gegen die Angst Streichle das Blatt küsse den Hund tröste das Holz hüte den Mund zähme den Kamm reime die Lust schmücke den Schlaf plätte den Frust neige das Glas wiege das Buch liebe die Luft rette das Tuch schaue das Meer rieche das Gras kränke kein Kind iss keinen Fraß lerne im Traum schreibe was ist nähre den Tag forme die Frist lenke die Hand eile und steh zögere nicht weile wie Schnee öffne die Tür lade wen ein schenke dich hin mache dich fein prüfe dein Herz geh übers Feld ruhe dich aus rühr an die Welt

Okay, sometimes—just being honest— Millie can be . . . a little ghetto." On the word little, Tyler held two fingers an inch apart. "Nooo. Don't say that. Ah love Millie." "But I'm not saying it like it's a bad thing." "No, I see what you mean," Jenna said. " Sometimes she'll be all like . . ." She pushed her hair behind her ears. She looked as if it were her turn in a game of charades and she was considering how well she knew the reference. "Ohmygod, I can't even do it," she laughed. "Okay, if we're being too loud or something? She'll be like, 'Gurl, you know iss quiet hours!" Then she poked her lips out. She put a hand on her hip and she shifted her head from side to side.

Historically, many investment groups have in practice outsourced much of the hard but dull, unglamorous work around corporate governance to a small club of consultancies known as “proxy advisors.” The biggest by far are Glass Lewis and Institutional Shareholder Services. Between them, they utterly dominate this niche industry, and are a quietly influential duo at the heart of the crossroads between the corporate and financial worlds. Glass Lewis attends more than 25,000 annual meetings across over 100 markets around the world every year. ISS brags that it covers about 44,000 meetings in 115 countries. Together, they advise thousands of investment groups with cumulatively tens of trillions of dollars’ worth of assets, and make millions of votes every year on their behalf. Many corporate executives resent the often formulaic approach of the proxy advisors, and see relying on them as an abdication of an investor’s responsibility. This is partly self-serving, as they dislike the proxy advisors’ views on compensation, for example. Yet there is an element of truth to it. Most investment groups don’t want the hassle of having to deal with many mundane issues across hundreds or even thousands of companies they own shares in. ISS’s and Glass Lewis’s raison d’être is to relieve them of this headache.

Saeris – Sair-Iss Rusarius — Roo-sar-ee-us Omnamshacry — Om-nam-sha-cry Iseabail — Ee-sha-bahl Belikon —Bell-eh-con. Oshellith — Oh-shay-lith. Taladaius — Tal-ah-day-us Daianthus — Day-an-thus Lorreth — Lor-uth Balquhidder Clan— Bal-kid-er (clan) Te Lèna —Tay Len-Ah Danya — Dan-Yah

Anndd wee mussttn’tt looose ourr sensses of hummorr,” Mrs Which said. “Thee onnlly wway ttoo ccope withh ssometthingg ddeadly sseriouss iss ttoo ttry ttoo trreatt itt a llittlle lligghtly.

airport exit onto NW 120th Street, Jack slowed and parked near the International Shipping Service cargo facility. A warehouse butted up against a large hanger, its front wall sporting a large sign that read ISS AIR CARGO. The rumble of distant

One of SpaceX’s biggest goals, Shotwell said, was to fly as often as possible. The company has never sought to make a fortune off each flight. It would rather make a little on each launch and keep the flights flowing. A Falcon 9 flight costs $60 million, and the company would like to see that figure drop to about $20 million through economies of scale and improvements in launch technology. SpaceX spent $2.5 billion to get four Dragon capsules to the ISS, nine flights with the Falcon 9, and five flights with the Falcon 1. It’s a price-per-launch total that the rest of the players in the industry cannot comprehend let alone aspire to. “I don’t know what those guys do with their money,” Shotwell said. “They are smoking it. I just don’t know.

Freedom is a choice, and we have to defend our choices.

Hurled with terrific force, chunks of thick steel tore through the thinner hull of the ISS.

First there was Genesis I, then Genesis II, and, if all goes well, there will be a Bigelow Expandable Activity Module (BEAM) attached to the International Space Station (ISS) by 2015.

Shayero'n si Shayeri main karta chala gya, Mehboob ko bahoo'n mein bharta chala gya. Tha unko bhi Ilam iss mohabat mere dost, Par najane kyun woh apne aap se mukarta chala gya

The car guy. She formed a quick impression of a wizened, little old man of German descent who knew auto mechanics backward and forward, and who tinkered under the hoods of everything on wheels, murmuring things like, “Hmmm... Hmmm... Ah hah! De problem, you see, iss viss da discombobulator intravector svitch, vich hass gone kablooey.

Iss all regulated Simon, everything in this country is. Yow can't scratch yer arse without some cunt filling o form abaht it.

Tere jaane ka asar kucchh iss kadar hua mujhpe, ki tujhe dhoondhte dhoondhte maine khudko paa liya

Light-years away, another starship was also experiencing problems, though perhaps not as severe. The I.S.S. Antares was not a new ship either. Many older ships in the imperial space fleet reaching retirement age were being refitted with more modern equipment to extend their useful lives. Thus, technologically at least, Antares was currently one of the most advanced ships of the Imperial Space Fleet. Unfortunately, she was now also one of the most troubled. This is what the Phoenix refitting program had done to the Antares.

Creoles tend to express variations in time by having a string of helping verbs rather than by having complicated word formation rules. In other words, they are more like English in this respect than like a language such as Italian: English: I thought she might have been sleeping. Italian: Pensavo che dormisse. The idea of potential (in the English "might"), completed or whole action (in the English "have"), and stretched-out activity (in the English "been") that go with "sleeping" are all expressed in the ending on the Italian verb dormisse. (Dorm is the root for "sleep"; isse is the ending that carries all the meaning about the time frame.)

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Kitne saleeke, iss zindagi ke.. Logon ne sikhaaye, kuch hum ne gir ke seekhe. - Gairon ne haske, kaafi gham baante.. Thode doston ke, hisse se chaante! --   Kitne saleeke, iss zindagi ke.. Logon ne sikhaaye, kuch hum ne gir ke seekhe. --- Jeene ke tareeqe, khusi mein ro ke.. They Kabhi tanha, bheed mein hoke. Uljhi ranjishein, dil se bhulaake.. Haar ko muskuraate, Gale lagaake. - Kuch dard piye, jhoothey sach kadwe.. kabhi hasi ke pal, thode feeke feeke.. --   Kitne saleeke, iss zindagi ke.. Logon ne sikhaaye, kuch humne gir ke seekhe.

North, South, East, West, Get rid of this nonsense. Spend some time at the ISS, You shall foster unified sense.

You’re stuck here anyway,” I told Brandon Childress, who got three days ISS for hiding a vape pen in the panels of the boy’s bathroom ceiling. Insiders knew where to go when they wanted a hit, but Jake Milhaus had slipped off the toilet when he tried to put it back and got a concussion for his trouble.

Keh dunga wo baat bhi tumse, Jb aayegi barsaat phir kbhi, Pr darta hu... Subh ki chahat Ho na jaye raat phir kahin, Kho na jaye jayada ki chahat me, Iss rishte ka andaaz hi kahin

You tell me about your ghost," she said. "And I'ss tell you about mine.

The closed water system developed for the ISS, where we process our urine into clean water, is crucial for getting to Mars, but it also has promising implications for treating water on Earth, especially in places where clean water is scarce. This overlapping of scientific goals isn’t new—when Captain Cook traveled the Pacific it was for the purpose of exploration, but the scientists traveling with him picked up plants along the way and revolutionized the field of botany. Was the purpose of Cook’s expedition scientific or exploratory? Does it matter, ultimately? It will be remembered for both, and I hope the same is true of my time on the space station.

Misha’s and my mission to spend a year on ISS is unprecedented. A normal mission to the space station lasts five to six months, so scientists have a good deal of data about what happens to the human body in space for that length of time. But very little is known about what happens after month six. The symptoms might get precipitously worse in the ninth month, for instance, or they might level off. We don’t know, and there is only one way to find out. Misha and I will collect various types of data for studies on ourselves, which will take a significant amount of our time. Because Mark and I are identical twins, I’m also taking part in an extensive study comparing the two of us throughout the year, down to the genetic level. The International Space Station is a world-class orbiting laboratory, and in addition to the human studies of which I am one of the main subjects, I will also spend a lot of my time this year working on other experiments, like fluid physics, botany, combustion, and Earth observation. When I talk about the International Space Station to audiences, I always share with them the importance of the science being done there. But to me, it’s just as important that the station is serving as a foothold for our species in space. From there, we can learn more about how to push out farther into the cosmos. The costs are high, as are the risks.

Thank God there weren’t any Chinese on the ISS, anyway! The atmosphere would have been so frigid, they’d have frost on the inside of the portholes.

Jack grabbed Alexei’s shaved head in both hands and pretended to twist it off. “The only problem with the ISS is it’s infested with bloody Russians.