Kudos Quotes

I see that you are working this vampire angle with some success. And kudos. Lots of girls love that sensitive-undead thing. But I'd drop the whole musician angle if I were you. Vampire rock stars are played out, and besides, you can't possible be very good.

Some things you must always be unable to bear. Some things you must never stop refusing to bear. Injustice and outrage and dishonor and shame. No matter how young you are or how old you have got. Not for kudos and not for cash: your picture in the paper nor money in the bank either. Just refuse to bear them.

A detective who uses his deductive powers to corner a suspect and then does nothing to stop them from committing suicide is no better than a murderer himself. - Kudo Shinichi

I told you, my dad made sure I knew self-defense.” “Well, kudos to your dad for making sure you could protect yourself. Followed by a fuck you to your dad for turning you into a deadly weapon.

I just wanted to say that it's okay if you dislike me. If you make Clary happy, I'm fine with you." He stuck his hand out, and Jace took his own hand out of Clary's and shook Simon's, a bemused look on his face. "I don't dislike you," he said. "In fact, because I actually do like you, I'm going to offer you some advice." "Advice?" Simon looked wary. "I see that you are working this vampire angle with some success," Jace said, indicating Isabelle and Maia with a nod of his head. "And kudos. Lots of girls love that sensitive-undead thing. But I'd drop the whole musician angle if I were you. Vampire rock stars are played out, and besides, you can't possibly be very good." Simon sighed. "I don't suppose there's any change you could reconsider the part where you didn't like me?" "Enough, both of you," Clary said. "You can't be complete jerks to each other forever, you know." "Technically," said Simon, "I can." Jace made an inelegant noise; after a moment Clary realized that he was trying not to laugh, and only semi-succeeding. Simon grinned. "Got you." "Well," Clary said. "This is a beautiful moment.

Bones smiled, unperturbed by all the weapons aimed in his direction. I had just as many pointed at me. Kudos to the guards for not being sexist.

Well, kudos to your dad for making sure you could protect yourself. Followed by a fuck you to your dad for turning you into a deadly weapon.

A secret makes you you " -Shinichi Kudo

My, my," he said, looking the note over. "If only students would write this much in their essays. One of you has considerably worse writing than the other, so forgive me if I get anything wrong here." He cleared his throat."'So, I saw J last night,' begins the person with bad handwriting, to which the response is,'What happened,' followed by no fewer than five question marks. Understandable, since sometimes one—let alone four—just won't get the point across, eh?" The class laughed, and I noticed Mia throwing me a particularly mean smile. "The first speaker responds:'What do you think happened? We hooked up in one of the empty lounges.'“ Mr. Nagy glanced up after hearing some more giggles in the room. His British accent only added to the hilarity. "May I assume by this reaction that the use of 'hook up' pertains to the more recent, shall we say,carnal application of the term than the tamer one I grew up with?” More snickers ensued. Straightening up, I said boldly, "Yes, sir, Mr. Nagy. That would be correct, sir." A number of people in the class laughed outright. "Thank you for that confirmation, Miss Hathaway. Now, where was I? Ah yes, the other speaker then asks,'How was it?' The response is,'Good,' punctuated with a smiley face to confirm said adjective. Well. I suppose kudos are in order for the mysterious J, hmmm?'So, like, how far did you guys go?' Uh, ladies," said Mr. Nagy, "I do hope this doesn't surpass a PG rating.'Not very.We got caught.'And again, we are shown the severity of the situation, this time through the use of a not-smiling face.'What happened?' 'Dimitri showed up. He threw Jesse out and then bitched me out.'“ The class lost it, both from hearing Mr. Nagy say "bitched" and from finally getting some participants named. "Why, Mr.Zeklos, are you the aforementioned J? The one who earned a smiley face from the sloppy writer?

Grandma, please. It’s okay. Dad’s doing a great job. I give him kudos for at least being calm and rational, and not losing his temper with everyone around him who isn’t in childbirth. And he has yet to start shooting lighting bolts at people. Poor Damien still has a burn scar.” – Kat

You just told me you didn't intend to love me. You didn't want to love me. You got yourself arrested to keep yourself away from me. That's not love. That's a compulsion. And, by the way, kudos on coming up with the worst pickup line of all time.

When Your Hungry That's When Your Brain Starts Working

A degree of self-deception, she said, was an essential part of the talent for living.

But if she is a good woman, a strong woman, she won’t tolerate your childish needs for a pat on the head, collecting bigger toys, and being king of the mountain. A good woman will love the childlike part of you, but she wants your life to be guided by your deepest truths, not your untended childhood wounds. She wants to feel that at your core you have grown beyond the need for kudos and million-dollar toys. She wants to feel your self-generated strength of truth.

To Bettina, she’d written: The old Vrekener king was a vicious fiend who got what he deserved. Kudos to your new vamp husband for a well-played assassination and tournament victory.

Let go of a need for personal recognition. Heap kudos on others and they’ll perform even better next time. Leaders are only as good as those who follow them and followers are at their best when leaders are quick to give credit for successes.

A detective risk its life to save others doesn't mean they are nice it means that's there job

You can't tell your story to everybody, I said. Maybe you can only tell it to one person.

The one thing you can say about people for sure, is that they'll only free themselves if freedom is in their own interest.

The strong one doesn’t win. The one that wins is strong.

She never said anything unless she had something important to express, which made you realise how much of what people generally said – and he included himself in this statement – was unimportant.

Dixie Flynn may be the most kick-ass heroine ever created. Kudos to M.C. Grant for giving us the ultimate 'girl power' thriller." —TESS GERRITSEN, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE SILENT GIRL

If you were a woman you would certainly find your mother’s life hanging over your head like a sword and you would be asking yourself what progress you had made, other than to double for yourself the work she had been expected to do and receive three times the blame for it.

I realised,’ she said, ‘that she was happy for the first time in her life, and I realised too that she would never have known this happiness had she not gone through the unhappiness that preceded it, in precisely the way that she did.

Podría ser que solo cuando ya es demasiado tarde para escapar nos demos cuenta de que siempre hemos sido libres.

I just invented an Applause Machine. You turn it on by clapping. I figure I'll have no trouble securing Venture Capital funding, because VCs love congratulating themselves, and this time when they do, my machine will respond by adding to their self-kudos.

So Wolf, what did you do?” – Sundown “You mean before or after I soiled my jeans? Which, by the way, I want kudos for coming back in the cab when I could have gone home. The foot valve was stuck. It doesn’t happen often. But it can happen as you just saw. If you’re lucky you can pop it back out from the cab. Obviously, given the horrors of this night, I wasn’t lucky so I had to crawl under the damn thing at ninety miles an hour and pound it out from underneath. I don’t ever want to hang like that under a speeding vehicle again. I swear I just lost eight of my nine lives.” – Sasha “What is it with you the cat analogies?” – Sundown

Nen flamujt e melankolise Ne vendin tone kudo valojne flamujt e nje melankolie te trishtueshme... ...dhe askush s'mund te thote se ketu rron nje popull qe nderton dicka te re. Aty ketu ne hijet e flamujve mund te shifet nje mund, nje perpjekje e madhe permbi vdekje per te pjelle dicka te madhe, per te qite ne drite nje xhind! Por,(o ironi) nga ajo perpjekje lind vetem nje mi. Dhe keshtu kjo komedi na plas diellin e gazit, nsa prej marazit pelcasim. Ne prakun e cdo banese ku ka ndonj shenj jetese valon nga nje flamur melankolie te trishtueshme.

There are parts of me that are broken. Thank you, they don't need fixing. There are places and people that I don't 'fit in' with. Thank you, I don't belong. There are words that have a comletely different meaning to me than for others. Thank you, I appreciate my own unique values. There are moments that I feel all alone in the world. Thank you, I rather enjoy and appreciate my solitude. There are people who judge me because they find me to be too shallow or too deep. Thank you, I love exploring the entirety of the ocean. There are people who truly love and value me just as I am. Thank you, you enrich my life profoundly. There is always room for expansion to grow, grace for every mistake, strength made perfect in every weakness and highest kudos for the courage to continue this adventurous soul mission called Life. Thank you, I am truly happy to be here.

Khi tôi cảm thấy rất buồn, tôi thường tỏ ra bản thân mình đang vui lắm. Nhưng thực ra trong tâm tôi đang đợi, một người thôi, nhỏ nhẹ hỏi tôi một tiếng "Có sao không?". Sau đó, tôi có lý do để nói ra. Sau đó, tôi có thể an tâm oà khóc... Người trưởng thành chính là vậy đấy, ngay cả khi yếu đuối cũng phải kiếm cho bản thân một lý do. Đủ lí trí, đủ an toàn để không bị chạm sâu vào lòng kiêu hãnh

It was an interesting idea, I said, that the narrative impulse might spring from the desire to avoid guilt, rather than from the need – as was generally assumed – to connect things together in a meaningful way; that it was a strategy calculated, in other words, to disburden ourselves of responsibility.

That quality, I said, could almost be called suspense, and it seemed to me to be generated by the belief that our lives were governed by mystery, when in fact that mystery was merely the extent of our self-deception over the fact of our own mortality.

That tribe was one to which nearly all the men in this country belonged, and it defined itself through a fear of women combined with an utter dependence on them.

Zero is where everything starts! Nothing would ever be born if we didn't depart from there...and nothing would ever be achieved!

because it reminds them of the possibility that it is patience and endurance and loyalty – rather than ambition and desire – that bring the ultimate rewards

Kudos to the Imperial Guard for having stupid amounts of courage.

Aku juga punya banyak hal yang ingin kukatakan padamu. Karena itu tunggulah aku disini

Suffering had always appeared to me as an opportunity, I said, and I wasn’t sure I would ever discover whether this was true and if so why it was, because so far I had failed to understand what it might be an opportunity for. All I knew was that it carried a kind of honour, if you survived it, and left you in a relationship to the truth that seemed closer, but that in fact might have been identical to the truthfulness of staying in one place.

He had many friends – smart, aspirational people of good taste – who had planted a jacaranda tree in their new garden as though this law of nature somehow didn’t apply to them and they could make it grow by the force of their will. After a year or two they would become frustrated and complain that it had barely increased even an inch. But it would take twenty, thirty, forty years for one of these trees to grow and yield its beautiful display, he said smiling: when you tell them this fact they are horrified, perhaps because they can’t imagine remaining in the same house or indeed the same marriage for so long, and they almost come to hate their jacaranda tree, he said, sometimes even digging it up and replacing it with something else, because it reminds them of the possibility that it is patience and endurance and loyalty – rather than ambition and desire – that bring the ultimate rewards. It is almost a tragedy, he said, that the same people who are capable of wanting the jacaranda tree and understanding its beauty are incapable of nurturing one themselves.

Menurutku Kuniaki Kudo pria yang bisa dipercaya. Jika kau menikah dengannya, kau dan Misato pasti akan sangat berbahagia. Mulai sekarang, lupakan diriku. Jangan pernah merasa bersalah, karena jika kau tidak merasa bahagia, maka usahaku akan sia-sia.

Someone I know writes fanfic, and he— they want me to help proofread and give feedback on their stories. But I can’t give useful feedback unless I know what a good story looks like, so I’ve been reading fics about Cupid. The ones with the most kudos.

The public has an exalted view of authors, and rightly so. Great writers impact deeply on our imagination. And yet, behind the kudos, there sometimes lurks a person at odds with the nobility of the author photo or the 'sheer humanity' of the prose style.

She had to admit this journalist was one of her trickier customers, and his interviews nearly always ended with the same argument, since he seemed to take such a long time to get round to asking a question and when he did, discovered that he himself had the best answer for it.

O-kay,” Noah said, dragging everyone’s attention away from Avi and Felix. “That was both uncomfortable and highly disturbing, so kudos for that, but how about we get rid of the soon-to-be rotting corpse and figure out what we’re going to do about Dr. McCreepypants and his little shop of hospital horrors? Sound good? Great.

But I quickly came to see, she said, that in fact there was nothing worse than to be an average white male of average talents and intelligence: even the most oppressed housewife, she said, is closer to the drama and poetry of life than he is, because as Louise Bourgeois shows us she is capable at least of holding more than one perspective.

Some things you must always be unable to bear. Some things you must never stop refusing to bear. Injustice and outrage and dishonor and shame. No matter how young you are or how old you have got. Not for kudos and not for cash: your picture in the paper nor money in the back either. Just refuse to bear them. —William Faulkner, Intruder in the Dust

a saddening thought, she said, that when a group of women get together, far from advancing the cause of femininity, they end up pathologising it.

There is no deduction that is superior or inferior…because there is only one truth.

It may be the case, she said, that it is only when it is too late to escape that we see we were free all along.

It was her own capacity for story telling that made her see her own hand in what happened around her.

The one thing you can say about people for sure,’ Ryan said, ‘is that they’ll only free themselves if freedom is in their own interest.

You know what it’s like,’ he said. ‘You earn just enough to get by but at the end of the day there’s nothing left mentally, and so you cling to the job even harder.

Uçakta yanımda oturan adam öyle uzun boyluydu ki koltuğuna sığamıyordu.

His geekiness was that bizarre failure to care about the one thing that everybody agreed really mattered: kudos, while his coolness came from the same source, because not caring about kudos—not obsessing about it, not chasing it down wherever it might be found, not constantly measuring one’s own coolness against that of one’s peers—was in itself kind of cool.

History goes over the top like a steamroller, she said, crushing everything in its path, whereas childhood kills the roots. And that is the poison, she said, that seeps into the soil.

Minden kiadó azt keresi, folytatta, mondhatnánk, ez a modern irodalom világának Szent Grálja, hogy kik azok az írók, akiknek a művei megállják a helyüket a piacon, mégsem veszítik el a kapcsolatot az irodalmi értékekkel; más szóval, akik olyan könyveket írnak, amelyeket az olvasók élvezetesnek találnak, de nem kell szégyenkezniük, ha rajtakapják őket az olvasásukon.

Tudomása szerint egy problémát nem lehet megldani egyszerűen azzal, hogy újra meg újra megfogalmazzák a végtelenségig, hacsak nem bízunk abban, hogy maga a végtelenség megsemmisít bizonyos tényezőket.

...he observed that in the current situation the possibility of destruction seemed genuinely to be upon us, to the extent that he couldn't see what move on the chess board would get us out of this corner.

Technique 52: Carrier pigeon kudos People immediately grow a beak and metamorphosize themselves into carrier pigeons when there’s bad news. (It’s called gossip.) Instead, become a carrier of good news and kudos. Whenever you hear something complimentary about someone, fly to them with the compliment. Your fans may not posthumously stuff you and put you on display in a museum like Stumpy Joe. But everyone loves the Carrier Pigeon of kind thoughts.

I said that while her story suggested that human lives could be governed by the laws of narrative, and all the notions of retribution and justice that narrative lays claim to, it was in fact merely her interpretation of events that created that illusion.

You asked me earlier,' she said to me, 'whether I believed that justice was merely a personal illusion. I don't have the answer to that,' she said, 'but I know that it is to be feared, feared in every part of you, even as it fells your enemies and crowns you the winner.

Tüm yazarlar ilgi meraklısıdır. Aslında biz çocukken kimse bizi yeterince önemsememiş, biz de şimdi onlara bunun bedelini ödetiyoruz. Yaptığı işlerdeki çocuksu intikam unsurunu reddeden yazar ona göre yalancıydı. Yazı yazmak yalnızca adaleti kendi ellerinize almanın bir yoluydu.

In fact, he went on, you could see the whole history of capitalism as a history of combustion, not just the burning of substances that have lain in the earth for millions of years but also of knowledge, ideas, culture and indeed beauty – anything, in other words, that has taken time to develop and accrue.

I said I wasn’t sure it mattered where people lived or how, since their individual nature would create its own circumstances: it was a risky kind of presumption, I said, to rewrite your own fate by changing its setting; when it happened to people against their will, the loss of the known world---whatever its features---was catastrophic.

Sometimes I don’t know how any of us go on. Sometimes I fear there’s no way our species will survive our own self-destructive choices. Sometimes I feel so gut punched by the backward deal of the universe—that if you’re really lucky, you get people in your life to love, and then, over time, they will all either leave you or die—that I am angry at life. Actually, not sometimes. Always. I always feel that way. I don’t always actively think about it, but it’s in there. At the same time, I am always looking for some gratitude, warmth, or hope. I often have to really search for it, but when I see something that makes me feel joy—even just a tiny odd hardly anything—you’re damn right I applaud it. Way to go, adorable cat on a leash! Thank you, server who brought my hot pizza! Kudos, writers of a TV show that made me laugh! Hallelujah, sunshine after a week of storms! Yay for a good hair day, yippee for hot coffee, huzzah for an outfit that puts bounce in my step. If I can scrape up some evidence of a thing made beautifully or a gesture made kindly, then I can believe, for a few seconds, that this world is careful and kind. And if I can believe that, I can believe it is safe to let the people I love walk around out there. It’s my own attempt at foresparkling, seeking out hints of good, even planting them myself, so I can believe there’s more good to come. It might all be superstition, just mental magic, but why not try?

Vallja e Yjeve Yjtë-e ndezur si fingjill, Që vërtiten palë-palë, Prej mosgjëje zunë fill Plot me jetë-e mall të valë. Zunë fill me dashuri Që kur bota zu të ngjizet, Pa sikush për shok të ti Përvëlohet edhe ndizet. Ndizet ças edhe për ças, E si kurrë s'ka të shuar, Pa pushim i vete pas Me një sulm të llaftaruar. E si kurrë nuku mund Ylli yllin që t'a kapë Rrotull qiejve pa fund Venë-e-vinë-e-venë prapë... ....................................... ....................................... ....................................... ....................................... Do të venë fluturim Kudo janë-e kudo s'janë, Nëpër qjell që s'ka mbarim, As fillim, as fund, as anë. Kur mi të, kur nënë të, Kur me hire-e kur pa hire, Do përëajnë gjithënjë Hapësirë...shkretëtire... Ata ikin varg-e-varg Me një etje të pashuar: Sesà fellë-e sesà larg Shoq me shoq u pat larguar!... Kùsh j-u fali-aq dëshërim, Dh'aqë zjarr e aqë flakë, Dh'i gatoj me aq durim Yjtë-e lum e varfanjakë? Se do një, si për çudi, Ku prej syresh rreh të ftohet, Shoq i vet, nga mall'i ti, Më me zjarr zë përvëlohet... Dh'i vjen qark më me vërtik E me dhembje më të nxehtë, E si ik...si gjithë ik... E pushton me zjarr të vetë: Sa më pak e shmbëllen: Aq më shumë-e ndjek dëshira... Pa nga malli që s'e gjen, Dridhet gjithë hapësira. ...Kur po ja! Se që përtej Ndriten erërat nga pakë: Yll-i çdukur nëpër qiej Vetëtiu e mori flakë: J-a pat shtënë me një ças, Mun në mes në kraharuar, Shoq' i vet q'i sillej pàs Me një sulm të llaftaruar; Q'e kish flakën mun në gji, Q'e zhuritte dashurija, që çkëlqente me zili Rrotull rrezeve të tija. Yll i mjerë e yll i lum! Yll i lum e yll i mjerë! Sapo drita t'u përgjum, Sheh një shoq nëpër skëterë; Ay vin... e gjith vin..., Gjith më pranë... -e gjith më pranë...- Sesà ndrin e vetëtin!... Sesà ndjen një gas pa anë!... Sesa ndritesh përsëri! Sesì ndizesh përsëpari! Sesì djek me dashuri Posi yll margaritari!... Dashuri! Heu! Mall i ri! Dashuri! këng' e durimit! Ti liri! Ti robëri! Ti valim i shkrepëtimit!

I made sure to work hard, she said, and to achieve the highest results, but no matter how hard I worked there was always a boy there, level with me, who appeared to be less out of breath and to be taking things in his stride; and so I cultivated the art, she said, of nonchalance, and gave every impression of being less well-prepared than I was, until one day I found that this impression had become a reality, and that I achieved even more by leaving a few things to chance and by taking a leap of faith, such as the child takes when the training wheels come off the bicycle and it finds itself cycling unsupported for the first time.

finally there was only one corpse left. A large man, weighing well over two hundred pounds, lay tightly wedged between two boulders deeply imbedded in the earth. His shirtless torso had a sickly greenish sheen. The only way to dislodge the man was to wrap arms around him in a bear hug and pull him from the rocks—not a pleasant prospect. We huddled in a silent group and looked at the dead man, building our resolve. Finally, SSgt. Ken Bollinger spoke, “I’ll do it.” The rest of us sighed in relief. Ken had a body builder’s muscular physique. He would need his great strength to free the wedged corpse. Sergeant Bolliger positioned a vinyl body bag next to the man-in-the-rocks. Then he lay on top of the corpse and worked his arms under and around the dead man’s chest. He intertwined his fingers, locked his grip and squirmed to his knees, struggling for leverage. As Ken heaved upwards we watched in awe as his muscles bunched and his face reddened with herculean exertion. And suddenly, the man-in-the-rocks came apart in the middle, his entrails spilling onto the ground. Some of us groaned and turned away, but Sergeant Bollinger was unfazed. He methodically filled the body bag with the largest parts of the corpse, then scooped the remaining organs and pieces into the bag. When he was finished not a speck of the person remained on the ground. We gave him kudos as he slowly stood. His uniform was slick with gore and stank of death, but he appeared totally unfazed. We all praised him, “That was hardcore Ken.” he looked at us quizzically, genuinely taken aback. “No big deal.” he said.

In Dickinson terms, he epitomised the absurd ‘Somebody’, the anti-type to a ‘Nobody’ like the poet herself. Ironic that a creature so incapable of effacement should contrive to link his name to hers. Above all, Montague was bent on the glory of the grand public gesture. He wanted the kudos he was bound to have as sole donor of a collection remarkable for the fact that a poet of her stature had been unpublished in her lifetime. Her manuscripts had never been seen; her reclusive life tantalised the public; and many mysteries waited to be uncovered.

Chale, I swear, if you can pull it off,” Kofi says with a side smile, “then kudos to you. And who knows, maybe someone will talk about you too one day. You know, as part of history.” I stop my sweeping, stand myself up to his level, and look him in the eyes. “Not his-story,” I say. “My own will be called her-story. Adunni’s story.

I needed someone to tell me it was all right to feel the anger and despair, but I received only kudos for my synthetically mature, responsible behavior.

I needed someone to tell me it was all right to feel the anger and despair, but I received only kudos for my synthetically mature, responsible behavior.

Conor cleared his throat. “How messed up is it that the only person who’s ever defended Declan at this fucking table is his fourteen-year-old kid?” He dipped his chin. “Kudos to you, Shay.

Am I dead? Is this what heaven looks like? If so, major kudos to God on the dick bulge on this particular angel. I probably shouldn’t be thinking about dicks when I just crashed my car, right? Then again, is it ever a bad time to think about dicks? Also, is Steele even wearing anything under those shorts? These are questions I need answers to.

Reading many books is the most socially accepted vanity metric for adults. You get zero kudos for reading 100 books a year. You get massive kudos for learning efficiently and making interesting things

I don't think anyone will truly have their ducks in a row, however work with what you have if it works out kudos to you and if it doesn't go back and pick up the ones you left behind start over again, mistakes will be made along the way learn from them.

If genius springs from genetics, a meritocracy is hardly more just than the divine right of kings; it, too, mythologizes inherent superiority. If genius results from labor, then brilliant people deserve the kudos and wealth they reap. The communist perspective is that everyone can be a genius if he will only work at it; the fascist perspective is that born geniuses are a different species from the rest of humanity. Many people fall short of their potential through lack of discipline, but a visit to a coal mine will amply demonstrate that hard work on its own neither constitutes genius nor guarantees riches. The history of high intelligence is no less political than the history of intellectual disability or of mental illness.

Chale, I swear, if you can pull it off,” Kofi says with a side smile, “then kudos to you. And who knows, maybe someone will talk about you too one day. You know, as part of history.” I stop my sweeping, stand myself up to his level, and look him in the eyes. “Not his-story,” I say. “My own will be called her-story. Adunni’s story.

Talán az a helyzet, hogy csak amikor menekülni már késő, akkor jövünk rá, hogy mindvégig szabadok voltunk...

In Romania, rumor had it, Premier General Ion Antonescu—dictator since September and Hitler’s ally since November—was “committing sadistic atrocities unsurpassed in horror.” In fact, Antonescu was putting down a revolt by his erstwhile allies in the Fascist Iron Guard, still a powerful Romanian force. Colville told his diary that the Iron Guard had rounded up Jews, herded them into slaughterhouses and killed them “according to the Jews’ own ritual practices in slaughtering animals.” Antonescu’s loyalty to Hitler was such that the Führer included a qualified kudos (along with a threat) in his New Year’s greeting to Mussolini: “General Antonescu has recognized that the future of his regime, and even of his person, depends on our victory. From this he has drawn clear and direct conclusions which make him go up in my esteem.” Churchill drew his own conclusions regarding the Romanian. He instructed Eden to inform Antonescu that “we will hold him and his immediate circle personally responsible in life and limb” were the rumors of mass murder to prove true.136

Happily there are ways to keep costs down and sustainable kudos up – like Lofty Frocks’ vintage fabric library, or the growing numbers of free patterns and tutorials available to download from sites like Hobbycraft and so-sew-easy.com. You can always do a Sound of Music with an old pair of curtains (try charity shops), or follow the lead of blogger Kari Greaves, @east_london_style, who upcycles vintage finds into entirely new pieces, like a kind of glam high-fashion Dr Frankenstein.

Hemp Marijuana’s sober cousin is out to redeem its dreary sandal-wearing reputation. Requiring no pesticides, very little water and comparatively small amounts of land to grow, there’s no doubt as to hemp’s environmental credentials – but its style kudos is looking up too. New, refined production means the days of rough hessian textures are over, and there are countless brands using it to make clothes that are more hip, less hippie. Inhale at leisure.

Your best reasoning skills will get you kudos in your own silos and not much else.

And to the men that have come and gone in our lives. I raise a middle finger to the losers who lost us, kudos to the ones that get to know us, and blowjobs to the lucky bastards that get to keep us.

Picasso and Modigliani’s ‘Venuses’ represent a sort of iconoclasm in their self-conscious rejection of the cold, perfectly-finished, stuffy beauty of the Western tradition of art. For the contemporary viewer they have become a reassuring confirmation of left-of-centre politics, of anti-establishment positions and of an intellectual kudos that doesn’t need art to look classical to be meaningful. And the frankness of the male artist’s unflinchingly libidinal vision is taken as evidence of the separation from restrictive bourgeois respectability and taste.

Now, I don’t believe in God, never have, but if God made man in his image, then I think the tall, dark, thirty-something-year-old in front of me was the prototype. Being beautifully tanned, handsome, with that perfect masculine jawline, and broad chest filling out his expensive black suit to perfection—he’s a damn work of art. Kudos, God. And while I have you, you're an a-hole. Amen.

I need to get back into work mode. I select the playlist by The Weeknd. It’s my warm up music. It gets the blood pumping in my lower regions. I don’t know how he manages to keep coming out with songs that make me and half the women around the world want to get naked at just the sound of his voice, but kudos to him for doing it. Men should be sending the singer thank-you cards for all the ass they get.

Anytime I received positive feedback, it felt like the kudos were directed at my performance, not me. There was no me. And you can’t build self-esteem or self-confidence if you have no sense of self.

Well, kudos to your dad for making sure you could protect yourself. Followed by a fuck you to your dad for turning you into a deadly weapon.” He groans again. “Jesus. I can’t believe you got the drop on me like that. You’re lucky I love you, babe. If any other girl had done this to me⁠—” “You love me?” I blurt out.

In its simplest terms, allyship is about mentorship or sponsorship across race lines. It's about creating opportunities for colleagues of color that can help them advance in their careers. Think promotions, attendance at conferences, nominations for awards or speaker-positions, inclusion on high profile committees, teaching your young colleagues of color the soft skills and rules of the game that they might not have learned otherwise. Ask what they need, share what you can offer, and see what makes the most sense. Don't assume you know what they need, and don't ask for kudos for your behaviour. Contribute to the change and know that the benefits of your efforts will come back to you.

You will not build a career with an upward trajectory if you are doing the bare minimum and nothing more. If you want to move up, you need to perform, and you need to know where you stand. And it's not just about getting kudos - having a sense of your own performance and how it is perceieved will protect you from being blindsided when layoffs come.

Because of the social kudos now given to authenticity when they do alter their behavior for the benefit of their surroundings, they have to make it believable too.

So vilified was Obama that the very office of the president ensured no respect. Breaking every rule of decorum and receiving millions of kudos for doing so, South Carolina congressman Joe Wilson shouted at Obama, “You lie!” during a 2009 joint session of Congress.74

E dashur Sadije, Nuk e dij se ç’ka ndodhur me mua. Në moshën e Krishtit unë të bëhem kaq i papërmbajtur në çfaqjen e ndjenjave të mija? Mjafton të qëndroj pakëz në vetmi e të jepem i tëri pas teje. Kurse kur jam me shokët nuk e kam mëndjen në muhabetin e përgjithshëm. Në mesditë të jetës dashuria qënka e çuditshme. Dua që në këtë çast të jem me ty. Ti të rrish karshi meje, të flasësh, të qeshësh. E di ti se më pëlqen qeshja jote? Ti qesh fare, fare. E sheh si është natyra e njeriut e dyfishtë? Unë në tregime e në vjersha jam shumë i përmbajtur, apo jo? Edhe në shkrimet e dashurisë bile jam i përmbajtur. Po kur nis të të shkruaj ty dhe e humb gjakftohtësinë. Adio, gjakftohtësi, armë e shkrimeve të mija! Pse vallë? Kjo siç duket është merita jote. Unë në përgjithësi kurrë nuk kam hapur sytë rrugëve pas fustaneve, po tani i kam mbyllur fare – kudo vetëm ty të shoh. Letra është një shprehje e çastit. Sikur ne t’i shkruanim letrat e t’i mbanim pa i dërguar qoftë edhe një ditë, natyrisht po të ishim në gjëndje shpirtërore normale, të tretën ditë do t’i grisnim e do të thoshim me vehte: ç’marrëzi kemi shkruar! Të tri letrat që të kam nisur para kësaj kanë plot marrëzira, se shpirtërisht nuk kam qënë mirë. Po mos u mërzit, njeriu duhet të ketë edhe çaste marrëzie, se do të na mbyste atëherë monotonia. Duhet të zbavitemi me ndonjë letër me nuanca anormale. Njerëzit zakonisht në këto letrat e dashurisë kanë qejf të bëhen ose hamletë, të tregojnë sa vuajnë e sa janë të mërzitur nga bota, ose të bëhen si xhaxhallarë të urtë me shprehje plot mirësi e didaktikë, t’i mësojnë vajzat të mos bijen në gabime, t’u thonë atyre se ka njerëz që janë të liq e ku të di unë. Këta u shëmbëllejnë atyre njerëzve, të cilët kur flasin me femra i venë më shumë rëndësi intonacionit të zërit, gjesteve elegante, manierës së të qëndruarit dhe harrojnë të mjerët, natyrën e tyre. Fatkeqët! Me këtë, pa ditur edhe vetë, bëhen të mërzitëshëm. Unë sot gjithënjë kam jetuar me ty. Shkonja në rrugë – isha me ty, shkonja në kafe – isha me ty, shkonja në bibliotekë të kërkonja ndonjë libër – isha me ty. Po ç’u bë kjo, thosha me vehte, ëngjëll mbrojtës? Dreq o punë. Është mirë kur të duan, apo jo? Kur të duan krejt ndryshe, krejt pa përcaktuar, pa rregulla, atëherë mund të jesh i lumtur. Unë nuk kam qef të më duan me rregulla, nuk dua të hyj nëpër unazë si akrobat. Bile unë kam qejf kështu: nuk e ndjen vehten mirë me mua një ditë, thua: më mërzite, Dritëro, sot nuk të dua, nesër mund të të dua, m’u çduk tani nga sytë! Çaste të tilla ka, apo jo? E di ti se unë nuk kam qef të flas në telefon se më mbarohen fjalët? S’di ç’të them. Që të flas, unë dua ta shoh njerinë, ose ta përfytyroj. Në telefon as e shoh, as e përfytyroj. Nuk e kuptoj se si më ka lindur kjo mani e pse më mbyllet goja në telefon. Duhet të jetë ndonjë sëmundje! Prandaj mos ma merr për të keq që nuk të kam telefonuar. Lexova një libër nga Dostojevski dhe më ka lënë pa gjumë me tipat dhe figurat e tij të tmerrshme. Një burrë tërë natën mendon para qivurit të gruas së tij, që ka vrarë vehten. Cilat kanë qënë arësyet që gruaja e tij vrau vehten? Rreth kësaj shkruhet tregimi. Ka një moment të hatashëm. Burrin e ka ftuar një njeri në duel (përpara se ky të martohej). Ai refuzon, nuk pranon të bëjë duel. Të gjithë e quajnë frikacak. Pas shumë situatash gruaja e çdashuron atë. Ai është shtrirë e fle. Ajo merr revolen dhe ia vë në tëmbth tytën e hekurt. Ai hap sytë, e shikon me gjakftohtësi tytën dhe i mbyll prapë. Gruaja tronditet. Përherë të parë kupton se ky nuk është frikacak. Po si është e mundur që refuzoi duelin? “Të refuzosh duelin – tha ai – kërkon më shumë burrëri!” Me të vërtetë është tregim i fortë. Gjynah që ti nuk e lexon dot. E kështu, moj e dashur, mjaft griva, po e mbyll letrën. Të puth, Dritëro

Tyler studied him over his coffee. "From what I've seen so far you're not much of a time-waster. And you're not so bad, for a suit." With a half-laugh, David lifted his own coffee. Steam from it rose and merged with the mist. "Coming from you, that's a hell of a kudo." "Damn right.

League of Legends has become well known for at least two things: proving the power of the free-to-play model in the West and a vicious player community.”[lxxix] To combat the trolls, the game creators designed a reward system leveraging Bandura’s social learning theory, which they called Honor Points (figure 23). The system gave players the ability to award points for particularly sportsmanlike conduct worthy of recognition. These virtual kudos encouraged positive behavior and helped the best and most cooperative players to stand out in the community. The number of points earned was highly variable and could only be conferred by other players. Honor Points soon became a coveted marker of tribe-conferred status and helped weed out trolls by signaling to others which players should be avoided.

So...just kissing ...?” If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. Kudos to him. “Some feeling up is allowed, but nothing below the waist. And absolutely no sex.” Just saying it out loud was getting her all hot and bothered. Him too if the flare of his nostrils was any indication. God, she’d missed this. All of it. The flirting. The chase. The dance. Surprisingly she wasn’t even that rusty. It was all coming back to her. “So it’s making out. Like in high school.” “Exactly.” She smiled. “High school sucked.

Dear Jacob, Maybe it was none of those reasons. Maybe your ads were torn down because someone needs a room badly and doesn’t want any competition. Might I suggest your brainless fuck might actually be a smart little cookie? Perhaps you will even hear from the perpetrator themselves very soon. ;-) Have a good one, Jacob, –X Shaking his head, Jacob read it again. The nerve! He took out his limp pen once more and wrote a new note. X? I sincerely hope you’re not deluded enough to think I’d accept your kiss. I’m not the kiss and make up sort of guy. Kudos for trying though. –Jacob

Njeriu mund ta ndërtojë jetën kudo; edhe aty ku ka ngjyra e jeta shndrit prej ylberi, por edhe aty ku ka veç gri, pikërisht e hirta jetohet!

We could all stand to learn something from the Queen. Kudos to her for saying with her actions that it's okay to alter tradition and accept people where they are.