Jp 2 Quotes

I crushed him to me and was hit with a feeling so incredibly strong that, for a moment, I couldn't breathe. There were aspects of it that I recognized easily - attraction, lust, but there were subtler aspects as well and they weren't as readily identifiable - companionship, longing and comfort. The only way I could describe that undercurrent of emotion, strangely, was ... home.

After that, the men in the room rushed for the exits, apparently to sell their shares in Bear Stearns. By the time Alan Greenspan arrived to speak, there was hardly anyone who cared to hear what he had to say. The audience was gone. By Monday, Bear Stearns was of course gone, too, sold to J.P. Morgan for $2 a share.*

I looked at them with the kind of curiosity one reserves for snakes in a zoo.

Politeness goes a long way, JP.” “Are you the polite police now?

Had he eaten some of my cock?

I’m so connected to you, JP. And I don’t want to scare you, but . . . I really like you, and I know deep down to my very core, that you have the potential to absolutely destroy me. There would be no recovering.

Yes, well, not the details of you acting like you fake it and what’s in or not in your condom.” “I’m not acting like I fake it . . . I do.” “Okay, JP.” I give him a thumbs up. “Good for you on your accomplishments.

And so, as the passengers drifted off to sleep to the rhythmic clicking of steel wheels against rail, little did they dream that, riding in the car at the end of their train, were six men who represented an estimated one-fourth of the total wealth of the entire world. This was the roster of the Aldrich car that night: Nelson W. Aldrich, Republican "whip" in the Senate, Chairman of the National Monetary Commission, business associate of J.P. Morgan, father-in-law to John D. Rockefeller, Jr.; Abraham Piatt Andrew, Assistant Secretary of the U.S. Treasury; Frank A. Vanderlip, president of the National City Bank of New York, the most powerful of the banks at that time, representing William Rockefeller and the international investment banking house of Kuhn, Loeb & Company; Henry P. Davison, senior partner of the J.P. Morgan Company; Benjamin Strong, head of J.P. Morgan's Bankers Trust Company;1 6. Paul M. Warburg, a partner in Kuhn, Loeb & Company, a representative of the Rothschild banking dynasty in England and France, and brother to Max Warburg who was head of the Warburg banking consortium in Germany and the Netherlands.2

She was no lithe virgin. Hers was the gentle voluptuousness of a grown woman, with a hint of fullness of breast and hip that follows child-bearing. A pale web of stretch marks lingered in mute testimony.

Crosswords do not informed citizens make.

Wish in one hand, shit in the other, and see which hand gets full first.

The night was moonless. A black sky pierced only by the rhythmic sweep of searchlights mounted on hills to the west. The overlapping funnels of light crisscrossed, sliding over the cupola of the Town Hall, the metal spines and white arches of the two bridges. Details emerged briefly, half-realised shapes and patterns appeared one moment, only to be swallowed up the next. The light flickered over people and places. Nothing was solid, nothing certain; events played out in a world of shadows.

The M1A3 Abrams was a man-killer. Colonel J. “Lonesome” Jones thanked the good Lord that he had never had to face anything like it. The models that preceded it, the A1 and A2, were primarily designed to engage huge fleets of Soviet tanks on the plains of Europe. They were magnificent tank busters, but proved to be less adept at the sort of close urban combat that was the bread and butter of the U.S. Army in the first two decades of the twenty-first century. In the alleyways of Damascus and Algiers, along the ancient cobbled lanes of Samara, Al Hudaydah, and Aden, the armored behemoths often found themselves penned in, unable to maneuver or even to see what they were supposed to kill. They fell victim to car bombs and Molotovs and homemade mines. Jones had won his Medal of Honor rescuing the crew of one that had been disabled by a jihadi suicide squad in the Syrian capital. The A3 was developed in response to attacks just like that one, which had become increasingly more succesful. It was still capable of killing a Chinese battle tank, but it was fitted out with a very different enemy in mind. Anyone, like Jones, who was familiar with the clean, classic lines of the earlier Abrams would have found the A3 less aesthetically pleasing. The low-profile turret now bristled with 40 mm grenade launchers, an M134 7.62 mm minigun, and either a small secondary turret for twin 50s, or a single Tenix-ADI 30 mm chain gun. The 120 mm canon remained, but it was now rifled like the British Challenger’s gun. But anyone, like Jones, who’d ever had to fight in a high-intensity urban scenario couldn’t give a shit about the A3’s aesthetics. They just said their prayers in thanks to the designers. The tanks typically loaded out with a heavy emphasis on high-impact, soft-kill ammunition such as the canistered “beehive” rounds, Improved Conventional Bomblets, White Phos’, thermobaric, and flame-gel capsules. Reduced propellant charges meant that they could be fired near friendly troops without danger of having a gun blast disable or even kill them. An augmented long-range laser-guided kinetic spike could engage hard targets out to six thousand meters. The A3 boasted dozens of tweaks, many of them suggested by crew members who had gained their knowledge the hard way. So the tank commander now enjoyed an independent thermal and LLAMPS viewer. Three-hundred-sixty-degree visibility came via a network of hardened battle-cams. A secondary fuel cell generator allowed the tank to idle without guzzling JP-8 jet fuel. Wafered armor incorporated monobonded carbon sheathing and reactive matrix skirts, as well as the traditional mix of depleted uranium and Chobam ceramics. Unlike the tank crew that Jones had rescued from a screaming mob in a Damascus marketplace, the men and women inside the A3 could fight off hordes of foot soldiers armed with RPGs, satchel charges, and rusty knives—for the “finishing work” when the tank had been stopped and cracked open to give access to its occupants.

Pastor, when those White police officers were terrorizing me, I saw them as less than human. I saw them as maggots. If I’d had a nuclear grenade, I would have detonated it and killed them and me. They filled me with hate.” But he told me, “Then I realized I was a bigot too. But I knew as a Christian, I cannot hate these men. I must love. I want to preach a gospel strong enough to heal this madness and hatred.”[2] JP writes, For too long, many in the Church have argued that unity in the body of Christ across ethnic and class lines is a separate issue from the gospel. There has been the suggestion that we can be reconciled to God without being reconciled to our brothers and sisters in Christ. Scripture doesn’t bear that out. . . . It’s going to take intentionally multiethnic and multicultural churches to bust through the chaos and confusion of the present moment and redirect our gaze to the revolutionary gospel of reconciliation.[3]

And when we were in the office, going over the solar power plans for the Angelica, he’d smooth his hand over my thigh, steal glances, and occasionally link our fingers together. He’s attentive, loving, caring, and demanding. Everything I’ve ever wanted, and it still feels too good to be true. We were in the middle of talking about solar panel placement when Huxley came in and asked us to dinner at his house. I wasn’t sure if JP had told his brothers or not, but it seemed like Huxley was very much in the know, and it didn’t seem like he minded

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2 / 2 "In the symphony of life, the notes of perseverance and passion create the most harmonious melodies. Play them with your heart, and you'll compose a masterpiece of success." Jay J.P. Peak, National Best Selling Author

I spend the next half hour downing the rest of the bottle until there’s only an inch left. I cry about the polar bears, watching them all over again. I send an email to the pigeon place, inquiring about Kazoo. And I text Breaker that I’m a loser who masturbates to exhalations. And sometime in the night, when I’m just about ready to pass out, I send one more email from my private account. To: McKayla, Kenzie, Hattie, Eileen, Barbie, Olivia, Betty, Rita, Jessica, Tess, Pauline, Dominique, Miranda, Cara From: JP Cane Subject: Be my Date Hey ladieeees, Sending a big old cock of an email because, you know . . . I have a big cock, so this email has to match. Here’s the thing. Hux is getting married to Lulu Lemon and they told me I need a plus-one. Looking for a willing candidate to escort me down the aisle. All expenses paid. Promises of pleasure. If interested, hit me up. I wear condoms still. K. Bye. JP

says. “And I’ve been up for hours thanks to the baby, so please, delight me in dating woes.” He smirks and then picks up a muffin and takes a big bite out of it. “Shit, these are good.” From the corner of my eye, I catch the pride beaming from Hudson over the fact that JP took a muffin. He’s going to rub that in my face later. Can’t wait. But back to me. Maybe discussing my dating woes will bring us closer, and if Hudson complains about me talking about it later, I’ll just mention that. “Well, my best friends are getting married, and Maple, my ex will be there. She’s the maid of honor and I’m the best man, and we’re the only ones in the bridal party. I want to see if there’s anything still between us, but the bride told me to back off because my ex wants nothing to do with me.” JP slowly nods as he takes another bite of his muffin. After chewing for a second, he says, “That’s not going to stop you, is it?” “I mean…should it?” “Considering that we should listen to women more,” Jude puts in. “I think maybe you should stay away.” “Facts,” JP says. “But…what if she does still have feelings, but she’s shielding herself so she doesn’t get hurt? Let me ask you this: How did things end?

Bad parents aren’t an excuse for bad behavior.” My voice fell. “At some point, we have to do better. We have to be better.

To me, the songs I play are milestones of my past. Playing one will recall that time period for me, but I don't have the desire to recall it—at least not now. But I know I can't stay away from it forever. Never playing again would be like choosing not to remember—or to feel. And that is not the type of creature I am.

We need not get distracted by the seeming defeat or troubles of our daily lives (“what is seen”), because this affliction is actually being used by God to transform our character (2 Corinthians 3:18) so we can become the kind of citizens who will flourish in his future kingdom (“what is not seen”).

pause

I might get distracted every now and then. The past is like a magnet, and it's hard not to go back there. Sometimes it's dark, and I get...lost.

How strong a Phoenix's instinct to heal must be—to feel another's pain and settle it—even through an unconscious darkness.

To me, the songs I play are milestones of my past. Playing one will recall that time period for me, but I don't have the desire to recall it—at least not now. But I know I can't stay away from it forever. Never playing again would be like choosing to not to remember—or to feel. And that is not the type of creature I am.

One thing about Jonas, he doesn’t let good sense stand in the way of what he wants.

It's a date." Ches stepped inside, leaving my bewildered face mug-deep in coffee. It was. It was totally a date. How did this even happen?

No hummingbird knows the haste of our hearts.

He takes my face in his hands and stares at me for a moment, his eyes crinkling sadly as he looks into mine. And just like that I see Panacea turning into nostalgia, the future turning into the past. His thumbs brush lightly over my lashes before gently forcing my eyes to close, and I learn one more thing about a Phoenix. When he presses his lips against my forehead, I realize that it's possible to feel pain from this healing creature's touch.

The day had been a bag of pissed off cats, and I wasn’t feeling particularly good about myself at that moment.

There are very good reasons why neither doctors nor detectives should work on cases too close to home. It warps perspective.

Class, take 15 seconds to think of your answers. I will go around the room starting at Lindsay and everyone will have a chance to respond. When it is your time to answer, if you want to, you can say, "Pass." If you do so, that's OK. I will come back to you, and you can either give an idea you thought of or say an idea you heard from someone else that you agree with. Or a part of an idea you agree with. So in this way we will hear from everyone. Class, take 2 minutes to develop an answer to this question. You may write down some ideas in a list, in sentences, in images. I want you to go beyond the first ideas in your head. I will then call on you, one at a time. Class, this is a great question for everyone to consider. I think you need about 37 seconds on this one. I will tell you when that time is up, and then you should share your answer with the person sitting next to you. Then I am going to go around the room—this time, let's start with Andrew and go counterclockwise—and you have to tell us what your partner gave for an answer. So listen carefully. Class, here's the deal with answering this question. Everyone will have 20 seconds to consider. Then I am going to ask Eric and Liz their ideas. Then I will ask Jess and Matt to say if they agree or disagree with Eric and Liz. Then I will ask Jenny and Max to add any ideas or reactions. We will regularly do this: one group gives a first response, one group says if they agree, and the third group adds comments. Class, I am not asking you "Why did the Industrial Revolution begin?" but instead, "What are some of the reasons it began?" You can write a list or sentences. I will start this time with Danielle and have her say one reason. I'll write it on the board. Then Casey will give one reason. Then Eric. And we'll go around the room, collecting ideas, until we run out of them. That way, no one person gives all the answers for the group—everyone contributes. When we collect all the ideas, then I am going to have you work on your own to organize them into …. Class, JP just gave an answer to the question I asked before I could give you all time to think, so now I want you to consider his answer for 10 seconds. Then thumbs up if you agree with JP, thumbs down if you disagree, and thumbs sideways if you are not sure. Oh no, class, it happened again—this time Jeffrey answered the question before I gave you all time to think. So, it's "Fist to Five" time. Hold up a fist if you disagree, five fingers if you completely agree, and one to four fingers depending how much you agree. Let's see what we all really think, after 10 seconds. Class, this is a time I want to let the conversation flow more quickly than usual. There is only one thing you have to do before you give your ideas—you have to summarize as best you can what the person who spoke before you said. That way we know we are listening. Class, I have a question to ask that you will need a bunch of time to think about and organize your answers, and then we'll share them in some fashion. I put together this graphic organizer, which might help you get all the parts of the answer organized. You don't have to use it. You can sketch an answer, or write a list, or sentences. I am not playing "Guess what the teacher is thinking" here. The only right answer is what you are thinking, if it is organized enough for the rest of us to understand. Here goes….

ODAC Step#2. From the country picker page, choose the country having MP (example Spain, UK, US, Italy, France, Germany [do not include JP/CN) and then tap on continue

I Think I’m In Love – Kat Dahlia That Part – Lauren Spencer Smith Always Been You – Jessie Murph Say You Won’t Let Go – James Arthur Just The Way You Are – Bruno Mars Rewrite The Stars – Maddi Jane Night Drive – Henry Lose You To Love Me – Selena Gomez Happier – Marshmellow, Bastille Drivers License – Olivia Rodrigo When We Were Young - Adele Hate U Love U – Olivia O’Brien If The World Was Ending – JP Saxe, Julia All Too Well (10 min) Taylor Swift Say Something – A Great Big World, Christina Aguilera You Broke Me First – Tate McRae Demons – Boyce Avenue, Jennel Garcia Figure You Out – Voila Boyfriend – Dove Cameron Too Good At Goodbyes – Sam Smith Mercy – Sawn Mendes Perfect – Ed Sheeran Can I Be Him – James Arthur Thinking Out Loud – Ed Sheeran

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Hey Cap'n! What're the swords for?" "Squawk, sea monsters!" Abraham replied. Even he grasped a miniature cutlass in his left claw. Eve cocked an eyebrow. "Really?" "Best to be prepared," the tier three parrot said. "It's not because you're pirates?" "Nope." Eve pointed over the bow. "And there's a merchant ship on the horizon." "Have to be ready to defend ourselves," he squawked back. Eve rolled her eyes, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "That man's raising a skull-and-crossbones flag." "Squaaaawk, just a formality.

The God of the Bible requires teachers who diligently study His Word and handle it accurately (compare 2 Timothy 2:15 and 1 Timothy 4:15-16).

For our purposes, two things are important about the narrative. First, Jesus revealed His intellectual skills in debate by: (1) showing His familiarity with His opponents’ point of view; (2) appealing to common ground (a text all the disputants accepted) instead of expressing a biblical text He accepted but they rejected (Daniel 12:2); and (3) deftly using the laws of logic to dissect His opponents’ argument and refute it powerfully. Second, because it forms the immediately preceding context for Matthew 22:37-39, this incident may inform at least part of what it means to love God intellectually: to be prepared to stand up for God’s truth and honor when they are challenged and to do so with carefully thought-out answers.

2. Propositional knowledge.

Cleaning the pool,” he replied. I have little patience with people who own pools or boats. They’re both holes you pour money into. Not only that, it’s a point of honor to do all the work yourself, from swabbing decks to cleaning filters. “Did you ever consider hiring someone to do it?” “No, Beau. I don’t jog. Cleaning the pool makes me feel self righteous.

Wish in one hand, shit in the other, and see which hand gets full first.” Peters’ comment was philosophical. I love it when he lectures me in parables.

Smiting for the Lord.

Hey, by the way. There’s someone else here you know. I just ran into him in the lobby. Remember Maxwell Cole?” Does Captain Ahab remember Moby Dick? Cole is a crime columnist for the Post-Intelligencer. He’s been on my case ever since I beat him out of a college girl friend, packed her off, and married her. As a reporter, he has dogged my career for as long as I’ve been on the force. Karen and I have been divorced for years, but I’m still stuck with Max. It’s like I threw out the baby and ended up having to keep the dirty bathwater.

2. The traditional view is neither scientifically testable nor easily compatible with evolution.

the lord lieutenant was the king’s man and from him came all things great and small. Or, to be explicit, what came from him were appointments to be justice of the peace, and to be a JP meant to be the possessor of undisputed local power. For good or ill the JPs ruled, unchecked by Privy Council or the public purse.

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It involves (1) adopting feelings and attitudes toward oneself that are not oppressive and harsh, (2) setting aside being inordinately self-judgmental by giving oneself messages that are self-condemning—e.g., I am such a failure—and produce shame and guilt, (3) not slandering and demeaning oneself, and (4) not beating oneself up and holding a grudge against oneself.

wrestling was fake by now. When

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I bet he’s a real demon when his alpha is in a rut.” Back to groaning at how his thoughts went where they had no business going, Hollis chastised her, “Stop that, you dirty minded bat!

Taylin was— Acting like his usual sexy self, supplied his animal helpfully.

Back was an irresistible itch—that was never far away—to yank the other man over his desk and kiss him until he saw sense.

he’d just stood up to eight alphas and survived. Ignoring the fact you got caught ogling Taylin’s cock. “Oh, shut up!

Wait, the room… smells of…” Taylin’s hand hovered over the door handle as he glanced back, one brow quirked up. “Sex?” “Shut up,” Hollis grunted, going to grab his suit jacket to head to the door. “That’s not my sex smell.

Did Hollis understand fully what he was doing by inviting in the wolf? It was too late now. There was no going back for Taylin.

He’d imagined Taylin looking at him as he was now a thousand times. Only nothing had prepared him for the all-consuming intensity of it. To be Taylin’s entire focus was… hot… scary?

He’s holding your biggest dildo and you’re worried about what impression you give him… pleaseeee. Not now, can’t you see I’m in a little bit of a predicament? Drop the ‘pre’ and ‘ment’ part of that word and let’s just go with the dic.

They were mates—that beautiful man was his—forever. Fuck! Why didn’t I push to stay? Because you’re an ass. Taylin hated that his wolf side was probably right. No, I’m most definitely right. Shut up!

Taylin kissed him with a passion so breathtaking, Hollis sank into the headiness of it without a thought about his need to breathe.