Kd Quotes

We all love animals. Why do we call some "pets" and others "dinner?

Sweet, sweet burn of sun and summer wind, and you my friend, my new fun thing, my summer fling.

Hitler said KdF brought opportunity for everyone, all were equal. But how could all be equal if some were favored?

My name is Rune Saint John. I am, before anything else, a survivor:

What is it we need to talk about, Lord Sun?” “Matthias, this isn’t an eighties sitcom. I can’t casually accept an orphan into my house for comic relief.

How anyone can be that dumb and still be able to eat with a fork is beyond me.

Don't leave a message," his voicemail said. "If you do, I might call you back. We could end up communicating, and that would be awkward.

He's wearing flannel!" Alan yelped. "He's shoving his straight in my face!

And of course these days I feel like there is a nation of us - displaced southerners and children of the working class. We listen to Steve Earle, Mary J. Blige, and k.d. lang. We devour paperback novels and tell evil mean stories, value stubbornness above patience and a sense of humor more than a college education. We claim our heritage with a full appreciation of how often it has been disdained. And let me promise you, you do not want to make us angry.

I did some research on Little Lord Asshat,” he said. It lacked any real heat, though. I’d overheard him earlier giving money to Queenie to buy Matthias “a razor, a toothbrush, and a fucking clue.

My lord, just to be clear,” one of the uniformed men said, “the gargoyle entered the premises from over here.” I said, “Entered the premises? It pulled itself off the wall. Right there. In the spot with the monster shaped cut-out.

Confidence is highly erotic.

Brand’s my partner,” I said. “Not just a Companion. He comes with me.” “Plus,” Brand said, “I hear all the cool bodyguards love to shut their clients in a strange room with a strange man. Extra points when zombies are involved.

Check and double-check, and never let go of the rope.

I think people make themselves beautiful. I think everything on our outside is a line sketch, and whatever’s on the inside blows those lines into three dimensions.

Don’t you do it, Rune,” Brand said without having to ask what I was thinking. “Don’t you fucking dare.” “I’m just going to wait. Over there.” “I’m fucking serious. Get the fuck out of there.” “Right over there.” I pointed innocently. “I will shoot you in the ass, the goddamn ass! I will shoot you in the ass, and you’ll be shitting through an inner tube for weeks!” “I’ll be right back,” I said. “In! The! Ass!” I headed for the secret room.

Brand said, fiercely, in a breaking voice, "You're my boy. You can do anything. Anything.

the most difficult roads to travel often lead to the most beautiful destinations.

Dreams become reality through faith and perseverance.

His green eyes sparkled. 'I think you're the first girl I've ever met who would rather slay a twelve foot snake than face one teeny, tiny spider.' 'Spiders are scarier,' she murmured, staring ahead.

Didn’t you know what his father was like—what kind of ability Rune has inherited? Those aren’t just shoes to fill, it’s the whole fucking shoe factory. Don’t you ever doubt whether he can do what he says.

The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don't have any. Alice Walker

I have the healing kit,” he called. “I heard you were attacked. I want to help.” “Then kick yourself in the ass really fucking hard,” Brand said. “I told you to stay put.

I’m addicted to words. The only way to get my fix is to write and read.

Never trust a woman hoarding a half-eaten bag of M&M's.

He had a talent for asking exactly the right questions to lead me to my own answers. Just being near him made things clearer.

Grab the lube, 'cause you are so going for the Fucking God button.

The thing you must never forget about Atlantean culture is that we don’t coddle our victims. Victims are quarantined and cast out, their defeat viewed as a genetic defect.

Be kind to yourself. People who have self-compassion are happier, more optimistic, and less likely to be depressed or anxious.

Brand said, “Every year there’s at least one stupid American college that tries to make New Atlantis a spring break destination. The newspapers have a field day when they get eaten.

What's the purpose of having faith when you know bad things are bound to happen?' 'Then it wouldn't be called faith,' he said, with a small smile and a twinkle in his eyes. 'The world may throw its darkness at you, but if you can still manage to see the light through it, then you'll know you're strong enough to walk through fire.

[I hear phone sex can work], I sent, [but I kind of doubt text-sex would.] He sent me a picture shot down his pants. I snickered and sent him a picture of my mouth. [autehigixuhi&^%$], he sent back. Then, [yeah, phone sex not satisfying. Also I think I dick-dialed Kentucky.]

She paused. “I would also have you understand this: if you discover someone did hurt my son, you are to tell me. While I am sparing in my protection, I am very generous in my reckoning. Such is the nature of Justice.” Behind her, her shadow twisted into something with multiple legs that thinned into sharp points.

The jungle had inflicted war on them for daring to enter, but they had shown themselves strong. They had confronted the extreme conditions it had to offer, and they were confident they would finish well. Heading toward their final goal,

Most people made comments on how I was the strongest woman they knew. That was before the title wave of disaster hit my charmed life.

No one’s smart when it comes to family. Blood is thicker than smart.

When this is all over, I will plant daisies in your skull.

Do we need to talk about last night?” he asked. “Absolutely. That’s how I always get ready for battle, talking about my feelings

Addam laughed. “Quinn will be responsible for them both.” “Which Quinn?” Brand asked. “The one in the cute bow tie? Or the one who steals boats? Because you never know which one will take charge.

Soldiers were not trained to hit moving targets. Marksmanship in the U.S. Army was taught on a known-distance (KD) range—fixed target, big bull’s-eye, plenty of time. It didn’t make a lot of sense.

We lie in each other's arms, our hearts slowly returning to a normal rhythm, but this time, I know they're forever synced. This woman has finally fought the monster and tamed it. I'd have it no other way.

He has asked himself sometimes if solitude is preferable to boredom or betrayal, which seemed to be the inevitable end of all happy love affairs, of all happy marriages. People clung to one another out of fear. K.D. has preferred the integrity of being alone. He was a realist, he is. He has the strength to face death alone.

I’ve been labeled before. I’m supposed to be a jock and then a brain and then one of those music/theater people. I guess I like to keep surprising people. But what kind of life can you live in a tiny square box? My personality is less narrow. I like a lot of different things. But still, people like to be able to put you in a category, to be able to place you in even rows and put a sign at the front. They think the best you can achieve is being at the front of your row…but why not form your own row? Isn’t that the definition of being a leader? Maybe taking charge means something different nowadays. How come lately people think you’re a leader just because you happen to be at the front of the line? A good leader need only point the way and watch as others follow a direction, not a figure. A great leader can lead without anyone ever knowing it. A spectacular leader can lead without ever knowing it themselves. The person at the front of the line is the puppet of someone that you couldn’t name because someone else pointed the way. I must have missed something. I thought being a follower was letting other people shape your life. I thought it meant letting other people decide who you were going to be. I won’t conform. I won’t let people class me. Because once you’re there you’re stuck. I will be whoever I want to be, and no one can stop me. I have something they don’t have, which is nothing to lose. I have my entire life to live and I intend to live it the way I would like to live. I will form my own row. I will point in a new direction. If that means going against other peoples’ opinion of normal, then so be it. Who says normal is right? Normal certainly strikes me as a boring way to live my life.

The human world never figured out the phenomenal expense it took to create New Atlantis, or the unlikelihood that it would ever be possible again. To them, it looked as if we pulled our Gotham out of a cereal box. They saw their abandoned buildings turn into craters overnight, and assumed that that was the sort of thing we would always be capable of doing. Not a bad rep to have.

Brand grabbed the sides of my face. He stared in my eyes and said, firmly, “Rune of Sun House, I believe that you are meant for great things. I truly, truly do. Your story has barely begun. It is my honor to be along for what has been, and is, and will be one hell of a ride. So don’t leave me on the bench again. That’s all I wanted to say.

Just write what YOU want to write; how YOU want to write it!

Love is like a jigsaw puzzle. There's an infinite number of ways for people to fit together.

Like love, like gravity, sex can warp the fabric of time and space.

Now, at this point, I nearly had to sit on my hands to keep from choking my own personal throat out of pure aggravation.

Oh, I get it. You think this is one of them big, fancy rescues. Boy are you about to be embarrassed.

I took offense to his dismissive response. Further discussion ensued. Eventually it appeared that the most diplomatic solution was to stick his fucking head in toilet water.

Follow your dreams and believe in yourself.

If your self-respect's for sale, don't complain when someone tries to bargain.

Grab the lube, 'cause you are so going for the Fucking God button." (Alan to Lukas, Louder than Sirens, Louder than Bells)

[Non-flammable? Challenge accepted.] [Alan], I texted, [arson is bad.] [It's in the spirit of academic inquiry! It's SCIENCE!] ['Science' is not a legal defense.] [Damn them.]

Even through the darkest phase Be it thick or thin Always someone marches brave Here beneath my skin

I'm a writer, there for I have a split personality disorder. How else can one person create so many people each with their own personality, who live within the pages of a book

I will shoot you in the ass, the goddamn ass! I will shoot you in the ass, and you’ll be shitting through an inner tube for weeks!

Welcome to politics. The people who create problems for you then blame you for them.

Actions NO longer speak louder than words; they SCREAM. We simply ignore the echoes.

Max was seventeen years old and growing, and was adept at balancing both an unending appetite and a grudge.

They were copies of tourist info on Brazil, along with local portal schedules.

Kissing her is like coming home.

Was there a murder jar? I shouldn’t be talking about killing people in front of children.

A real Christian preaches with deeds and discussion, not accusations and condemnations. You should never listen to the person shouting the loudest in anything." ~ K.D. Worth, The Grim Life

Colored like a sunset tide is a gaze sharply slicing through the reflective glass. A furrowed brow is set much too seriously, as if trying to unfold the pieces of the face that stared back at it. One eyebrow is raised skeptically, always calculating and analyzing its surroundings. I tilt my head trying to see the deeper meaning in my features, trying to imagine the connection between my looks and my character as I stare in the mirror for the required five minutes. From the dark brown hair fastened tightly in a bun, a curl as bright as woven gold comes loose. A flash of unruly hair prominent through the typical browns is like my temper; always there, but not always visible. I begin to grow frustrated with the girl in the mirror, and she cocks her hip as if mocking me. In a moment, her lips curve in a half smile, not quite detectable in sight but rather in feeling, like the sensation of something good just around the corner. A chin was set high in a stubborn fashion, symbolizing either persistence or complete adamancy. Shoulders are held stiff like ancient mountains, proud but slightly arrogant. The image watches with the misty eyes of a daydreamer, glazed over with a sort of trance as if in the middle of a reverie, or a vision. Every once and a while, her true fears surface in those eyes, terror that her life would amount to nothing, that her work would have no impact. Words written are meant to be read, and sometimes I worry that my thoughts and ideas will be lost with time. My dream is to be an author, to be immortalized in print and live forever in the minds of avid readers. I want to access the power in being able to shape the minds of the young and open, and alter the minds of the old and resolute. Imagine the power in living forever, and passing on your ideas through generations. With each new reader, a new layer of meaning is uncovered in writing, meaning that even the author may not have seen. In the mirror, I see a girl that wants to change the world, and change the way people think and reason. Reflection and image mean nothing, for the girl in the mirror is more than a one dimensional picture. She is someone who has followed my footsteps with every lesson learned, and every mistake made. She has been there to help me find a foothold in the world, and to catch me when I fall. As the lights blink out, obscuring her face, I realize that although that image is one that will puzzle me in years to come, she and I aren’t so different after all.

The last condescended from Academy spires Pretended at life with a cold, dead heart Face like a crypt, from a family of liars Quietly, quietly played . . . her . . . part. —Children’s nursery rhyme

So our idols are dead. So our mentors are dead. So comfort and safety are stripped away and evil closes in from every angle. Oh my darlings, we are well-read — we know what comes next in this story.

Isn't it funny how that works? One day, you just pick a human you've met, and you're like, 'I like this one,' and then you do stuff with them. They become important to you just because you chose to let them be.

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I whispered, “Burn.” The draug’s face began to smoke. Patches of skin peeled away from jawbone and incisors. Its hair clumped and curled into tight, foul nubs. It died into a blur of smoldering darkness. Everyone went quiet. As the light dimmed—my light, the light that was me—it took conscious effort not to sag. “Just curious,” I said in a shaky voice. “Were my eyeballs burning?” “Yes, they were burning,” Addam whispered in awe. “You were burning.

We both swore as something lumbered into view. It was huge. And shaggy. It had orange-brown fur and forklift-shaped tusks. It looked like it had chewed through the barbed wire around Jim Henson’s workshop and fled into the wild.

Nala pushed her lithe body from the desk and swept across the room, her stilettos clicking against the tiled floor. Her movements were as fluid and elegant as the gazelles that inhabited the grassy savannas in Africa. She stood silently in front of the open window, the chiffon curtains floating in the breeze around her. She presented an ethereal vision, which held Abayomi spellbound. Beautiful on the outside. Lethal on the inside, he thought to himself.

Aren’t little girls always taught that when a boy picks on them, it means they like them? I always thought that was asinine to teach girls to accept a boy’s bullying; if he likes you, he should show you respect and that he cares about you, not be mean.

Do you know why the lotus is one of my favorite flowers?" I cocked my head to one side so I could see his expression. He shook his head. "This beautiful flower lives in the most vile, muddy water of swamps and bogs," I said and rubbed the smooth metal of the pendant between my fingers. He frowned. "No, seriously... the grosser the environment, the better," I said. "So let me get this straight. You like a flower that lives in disgusting places?" One of his eyebrows rose. "That ain't right." "No, I love this flower," I corrected. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, "Seriously?" "What?" You don't believe me?" "Sure, I believe you. It's just weird." "I'll tell you why, but only if you promise not to laugh," I said. He nodded. Taking a cleansing breath, I rested my head against the seat, closed my eyes, and took that scary first step. "This flower stays in the mud and muck all night long." I peeked at him without moving my head. His face had become set in the smooth lines of one who listens intently. "Then, at sunrise, it climbs toward the light and opens into a pristine bloom. After the sun goes down, the bloom sinks into the mire. Even though it spends the whole night underwater, the flower emerges every morning as beautiful as the day before." Smiling, I swiveled in my seat to face him. "I love this flower because it reminds me that we get second chances every day, no matter what muck life drags us through.

He said, “Look six ways before crossing the fucking street.” “I will.” “Don’t forget down. You always forget to look down.” “I will,” I said. He was always uneasy when I left the house without him. If I ever got hurt when he wasn’t around, I wouldn’t even be allowed to the bathroom without an escort for the next six months.

There are moments in your life that are so impossibly large that it’s difficult to even comprehend them. They make your very bones vibrate. Standing there, it was like my future spiraled outward. Waves of possibility crashed on each other, bound by the insane certainty that everything could start. That everything could finally start.

But there will never be anyone else for me. You're it. No matter how hard I try, everything will always come back to you. I finally accept that. Even if you never feel the same way, even if I never get to have you. Four days ago, you walked back into my life, demanding I see you, obey. I can never go back to the way things were even a week ago.

Succubi? [...] is that what you secretly do in here? Slip away through the back door of the office and have long sessions of sweaty sex with your secret sex pets?" "No, [...] not usually" they didn't sound satisfied. Several huffy women stared him down. Nathan chose the manliest option in the face of his angry lovers. He turned, push the black door open, and fled.

It's not like anyone said anything that's memorable, or wise, or acute; it's more a mood thing. For the first time in my life I felt as though I'm in an episode of thirtysomethibng rather than an episode of... of... of some sitcom that hasn't been made yet about three guys who work in a record shop and talk about sandwich fillings an sax solos all day, and I love it. And I know thirtysomethibng is soppy and cliche'd and American and naff, I can see that. But when you're sitting in a one-bedroom flat in Crouch End and your business is going down the toilet and your girlfriend's gone off with the guy from the flat upstairs, a starring role in a real-life episode of thirtysomethibng, with all the kids and marriages and jobs and barbecues and k.d. lang CDs that this implies, seems more than one could possibly ask of life.

India’s black spaghetti-strapped tank revealed a cutlass tattoo on her right shoulder.  Her jet-black hair was disheveled and tumbled over her narrow shoulders giving her the appearance of an untamed lioness, ready to pounce on her prey.  Intense, dark eyes were leveled on the approaching boat.  With a quick jerk, she flipped the butt of her rifle to her shoulder and firmly planted it to prepare for the imminent attack.

At that moment, in the temple of her lovers’ tangled limbs, Lea felt the presence of the Divine close by, immanent and imminent — everywhere and everywhen — and it was a sublime feeling, one that made her feel infinitely powerful and infinitely small, both at the same time. A good fuck can make even an agnostic see God — a fact that explained Lea’s parents’ fascination with Tantra, something about which Lea thought as little as possible.

Neely McIntire," I said, clamping a sweaty hand behind her neck. "Friendship be damned!" Hayden yanked me forward. I had time to make a very girly sound before his lips began to move furiously over mine. His touch left behind the tingle of cinnamon gum. One of his hands slowly slid down and pressed into the small of my back. For a second, I thought the sun had washed over me. But this heat cuddled around me, pushing its way through my clothes. "Stmmmmp," I tried to say around his lips. My knees wobbled as he wound his fingers into the curls at my neck, holding my face firmly against his. "No." The hot pressure of his hand increased. A rumbling protest came from his throat when I dug my nails into his collarbones. "Lemme go," I managed to gasp when he kissed the corner of my mouth. "No," he whispered. His voice became a yielding puff of smoke. It slipped into my ears and coaxed something familiar from the broken depths. The urge to fight drained away. This wisp of memory warmed me, relaxed tensed muscles, but tightened other places. My fists uncurled and gripped his shoulders. "Why are you doing this?" "I want you to come back to me, Neely," he said, wrapping his arms around my waist to press our hips together. Fiery lips caressed my face and neck. "I know you're in there somewhere. Come back, come back, come back," he whispered between kisses.

Lea found that she was saying things, saying them pretty loudly, but had no clear concept of what she was saying. [Sean and Andy’s] names, maybe. The seventy-two names of God. The capitals of all fifty states. Love. That word featured in there a lot. Which made sense. To the extent that Lea had any sense left at all. She was coming. Stupid word, coming. Arriving seemed more like it. Or exploding. Was there a word that meant both? If there were, it would have described what she was doing. Again, very loudly.

I continued to work with uncertainty and the impending 90 days ticking away at the shelter. I didn't make enough money to pay rent in L.A., my employer was in a downward spiral, headed for bankruptcy and there was really nothing else keeping me in Hollywood. I didn't have a band, family or friends. The only people I associated with were coworkers at Tower and the drug addicts at the homeless shelter. And both were about to become history. I contemplated the scenario of not finding a place to rent and Tower Records going out of business. I had to figure out what I was going to do? Where was I going to go? I had to make a decisive, drastic decision!

The damned alarm went off in the middle of the hottest fuck Nick had ever had. He came up out of the dream roaring like an angry bear and practically slapped the clock off the nightstand in his efforts to shut it off. There was no going back to sleep, not with his heart hammering and his dick stretching out between his legs like it owned the place. Cursing between his teeth, he stumbled to the bathroom with only one eye half open. Not bothering with the stop at the commode for the piss he knew he couldn’t manage as hard as he was, he shoved his way into the shower and cranked the hot water. No cold showers this morning. He had every intention of giving this dream a good send-off. For a minute he leant against the wall, letting the jets from the shower massage work their magic. Then, when he was nice and wet, he soaped up, still not bothering to open his eyes, still doing his best to capture the vivid images from his dream. Once his chest and armpits, lower back and arse were well lathered, he went to work where he needed it most. And when his pubes felt like they were mounded in thick whipped cream, he closed his fist around his sudsy hard-on and began to stroke, letting the dream flood full-on back into his head.

Speech in the Sportpalast Berlin, January 30, 1942 They say, “you sail on your KdF ships; we cannot allow them to land here; that would corrupt our laborers.” Now, why would that corrupt their laborers? I cannot see why. The German laborer has worked more than ever before; why should he not have a rest? Is it not a joke when today the man in the White House says, “we have a program for the world, and this program for the world will give man freedom and the right to work.” Mr. Roosevelt-open your eyes! We have already done this in Germany a long time ago. Or when he says that the sick ought to be taken care of. Please leave the garden of our party program-this is National Socialist teaching and not yours, Sir! This is heresy for a democrat. Or when he says, “we want laborers to have a vacation.” It is a little late to want this, since we have already put this into practice. And we would be much further along now if Mr. Roosevelt had not interfered. Or when he says, “we want to increase prosperity for the masses of laborers, too.” All these things are in our program! He might have seen them through, if he had not started the war. After all, we did all this before the war. No, these capitalist hyenas do not have the slightest intention of doing this. They see us as a suspicious example. And now, in order to lure their own people, they have to get in on our party program and fish out a few sentences, these poor bunglers. And even that they do imperfectly. We had a world unanimously against us here. Of course, not only on the right, but also on the left. Those on the left feared: “What are we going to do, if this experiment succeeds and he actually makes it and eliminates the housing problem? What if he manages to introduce an educational system based on which a talented boy, no matter who his parents are, can attain God knows what position? And, he is capable of doing it, he is already making a Reich protector out of a former farmhand. What if he really introduces an old-age pension scheme covering the whole Volk? What if he truly secures a right to vacations for the whole Volk, since he is already building ships? And he is bringing all this up to an ordered and secured standard of living. What are we going to do? We live by the absence of this. We live by this and, therefore, we must fight National Socialism.” What the others have accomplished-that, our comrades were best able to see in Russia. We have been in power for nine years now. Bolshevism has been there since 1917, that is, almost twenty-five years. Everyone can judge for himself by comparing this Russia with Germany. The things we did in these nine years. What does the German Volk look like, and what have they accomplished over there? I do not even want to mention the capitalist states. They do not take care of their unemployed, because no American millionaire will ever come into the area where they live, and no unemployed man will ever go to the area where the millionaires live. While hunger marches to Washington and to the White House are organized, they are usually dispersed en route by the police by means of rubber truncheons and tear gas. Such things do not exist in authoritarian Germany. We deal with such problems without such things-rubber truncheons and tear gas.

Real Quick" [Intro:] Valuable lesson, man I had to grow up That's why I never ask for help I'll do it for you niggaz and do it for myself [Chorus:] I go 0 to 100 nigga, real quick Real quick, whole squad on that real shit 0 to 100 nigga, real quick Real quick, real fuckin quick nigga 0 to 100 nigga, real quick Real quick, whole squad on that real shit 0 to 100 nigga, real quick Real quick, real fuckin quick nigga! [50 Cent:] I'll run my blade 'cross a nigga ass {"real quick"} I'm so for real I'm on some real real nigga shit You playin boy I'll get you hit {"real quick"} You better hope the parademics come {"real quick"} Got me fucked up you think it's different now a nigga rich Before I get to cuttin know you niggaz better cut the shit Boy, you gon' have ya head popped, pull a trigger for me And my lil' niggaz trigger op' like it's legal homie No game when I bang, boy I empty the clip You run like a bitch, you ain't 'bout that shit Hey hey hey hey, I'll catch you another day day day day It's the Unit back to the bullshit [Tony Yayo:] Yeah! Nothin in life is out of bounds AK hold about a hundred rounds 60 shots like K.D. at the Rucker's Okay! When I see you on respirators Southside nigga 'til the day I'm gone Indulge in the violence when the drama on Yeah, these rap niggaz lukewarm I'm two sleeves of dope, when the mic on [Chorus] [Kidd Kidd:] Real quick, Rida Gang fuck nigga, huh! Don't Tweet me, see me when you see me Down to make the news just to say that I'm on TV (Kidd Kidd) This clip rated R, niggaz PG Them shells burn like a bootleg CD (huh?) Fuck love, I want the money When you get too much of it they gon' say you actin funny "Kidd, how you feel now that the Unit's back?" Like a million bucks, muh'fucker do the math! [Young Buck:] Cold-blooded, boy my heart don't feel shit Get with me, ask 50, I'll take the hit {"real quick"} Balenciagas, you can still get ya ass kicked Take a rapper nigga bitch and make a real flick I know I'm different from what you usually be dealin with Don't need a mic, give me some white to make a million with Single borough, six shots on the Brooklyn Bridge I'll let the nigga Drake tell you what I just did (yeah) [Chorus] [Lloyd Banks:] Nigga gettin money new to you (uh) I give a fuck if shit get ugly, there'll be a beautiful funeral You fit the script I'm gon' assume it's true Can't manuever through the street without a strategy, ain't nobody to tutor you And man was lucky Unit's through, you know why he flows 15 years, switchin dealers like casinos And my goon'll clip you on the arm (uhh) I'm out the country every week and dumpin ash out on the Autobahn Auto-pilot's always on Rather better livin, I've been [?] green bills callin me all day long This is homicide, more tears in your mama eyes More reason to wake up, real niggaz arrive [Chorus]

Just write what You want to write, how You want to write it! K.D.Faerydae

A bolt of magic—a bolt of visible, brilliant magic—shot into the clouds with strobe-bright intensity. The eye of the storm boiled. It began fraying first into snatches of indeterminate color, and then into vibrant shades of blue. Afternoon sunshine poured down. Shadows ripped wide.

Don't just me with a lap top. I sould be working, but I don't care

Be the weird kid that reads about books when suppose to listen to the teacher rant.

White does not count correctly and plays 1.Qxf7+?? Black, of course, should take the queen with 1...Kxf7, but young beginners often automatically “move their king out of check” instead of looking at the other possibilities of capturing the checking piece or blocking the check. So they play 1...Kd8?? and just lose a pawn! And with the black queen on d8, they often “resign,” since they assume 1.Qxf7+?? is checkmate!

There was no fear and no worry, but Nora knew she had come full circle. However, where she ended was so much better than where she'd started.

Change had painted them both. Just with different brushes.

the promise of the glamorous and free life of a diplomat, seeing and experiencing the entire world, was the stuff of dreams. It had helped that she’d totally bought into the propaganda that she was part of an elite group, a crème de la crème representing her country, an important cog in the state machinery that served national interests. Looking back, she should have known that her first trip was but a mild introduction into a soul-less life.

The deadline is tonight. What kind of a sadist sets a deadline on a Saturday evening? And they just sent the instructions yesterday. Friday!” She didn’t say the words but her facial expression clearly screamed, ‘Fuck capital.

... nothing is ever just in one’s head. Every thought is created by an external factor, no matter how small it might be.

was painfully noble, and lived in the world that should be, not the world that actually was.

Dreams give us wings when we must remain rooted.