Leeds Quotes

My name is Stephen Leeds, and I am perfectly sane. My hallucinations, however, are all quite mad.

This time, there are no tears. This time, there is only emptiness and I feel it set in the straight line of my mouth. I am not strong enough for this. I want an earthquake, a hurricane, anything - even a devil, the one with the cloven hoof - Mrs. Leed's unfortunate 13th child - to rush out and stomp on me, break me into little pieces and hurl me to the stars, let me go back with those people I love. Please.

I'm not working-class: I come from the criminal classes.

Men have always been permitted in fiction and in life to simply be what they are, no matter how dark or terrifying that might be. But with a woman, we expect an answer, a reason.

We staan elke dag op, doen wat van ons verwacht wordt, en gaan dan weer slapen, en dat noemen we leven. We saboteren onszelf zonder het te beseffen, omdat we nadoen wat ons ooit is voorgedaan, en dan denken we dat het zo móet gaan. En ondertussen organiseren we de dingen zo, dat we geen tijd hebben om stil te staan bij dat wat we ten diepste voelen. We vergeten wat we waard zijn en durven niet te geloven dat we het goeie wel degelijk verdienen. We vinden het makkelijker om te berusten bij ons leed, om onszelf te troosten na de pijn, dan te kiezen voor wat ons echt gelukkig zou maken.

Zo ging het leven onafgebroken en eentonig voort, als met een zenuwachtig egoïstisch materialisme: er werd geleden en er daalde geen algemeen rouwfloers neer op de wereld; er werd geleden en toch bleef alles het zelfde en lachte men, sliep men, at men rondom dat leed.

You aren't insane, then." "Heavens no," I said. I eyed her. "You don't accept that." You see people that aren't there Mr. Leeds. It's a difficult fact to get around. "And, yet, I live a good life," I said. "Tell me. Why would you consider me insane, but the man who can't hold a job, who cheats on his wife, who can't keep his temper in check, you call him sane?

Lily might be icy on the outside, but inside she was Vesuvius.

I have tried the way of the misanthrope, the way of the deviant, the philosopher, the observer, the pretender. But there is one road I have not seriously considered walking down, have not permitted myself to. Perhaps it is time.

He howls questions to me: Who are you? Why are you doing this? I didn’t do anything to anyone. I don’t deserve this. Why me? This is a failing of men. This same violence, applied to a woman, she does not ask why it is being inflicted upon her, she only struggles unsuccessfully to free herself and grieves the fact she has grieved her entire life, one that she understands fundamentally and innately. That violence simply occurs.

In order to create a sustainable world, we need to: 1) Educate people. 2) Educate people. 3) Educate people. For every person left uneducated about the system of this sphere, the nature will make us all pay for it. Sustainability can only start in the mind.

Speak dumb person, please.

Honestly, I don't know that the universe yould really handle everyone being infinite Batmans. Perhaps the point of God was to prevent nonsense like that.

Van één ding zijn we zeker : dat we mensen zijn, stof onder de sterren. En dat alle menselijke geluk en alle menselijke leed door mensen veroorzaakt wordt.

Bitterbessie dagbreek bitterbessie son 'n spieël het gebreek tussen my en hom Soek ek na die grootpad om daarlangs te draf oral draai die paadjies van sy woorde af Dennebos herinnering dennebos vergeet het ek ook verdwaal trap ek in my leed papegaai-bont eggo kierang kierang my totdat ek bedroë weer die koggel kry Eggo is geen antwoord antwoord hy alom bitterbessie dagbreek bitterbessie son

I love Halloween because all the time, everyone wears masks. But one night a year, they do it openly. The dark and forbidden things they wish to be but deny themselves, on Halloween they don’t. On Halloween, they embrace it, all of it. The hidden parts of the world are exposed, if only for one night. And those things that are truly dark are a little less alone.

If you ask a negative, unanswerable question, you will get a negative, impractical answer. The question you ask determines the focus of your thinking, your focus determines your attitude, and your attitude determines your ability to take action.

A lifetime thus far of being alone. Of knowing I would be alone, forever. To stand in a full room and know oneself to be apart, that invisible barrier between you and them to be in every way uncrossable. To find the will to exist in a world so wholly unsuited for you.

There are many definitions of insanity in this world. One could argue that spooning a man’s eyeball out of the socket and performing carnal acts of religious desecration with it is insanity - we will revisit that later- perhaps you’d be right, but I argue that true insanity is driving in Los Angeles.

I follow behind her and watch as she takes a knife out of the butcher block and spins around, waving it wildly at me. “Let. Me. Leave.” Her voice is low and threatening, but it’s also trembling. “Put the knife down,” I plead. “I’ll put it down when I’m in the car.” I shake my head. “I can’t let you leave, Layla.” “You can’t make me stay!” she screams. “Why are you trying to make me stay?” She covers her mouth with her hand to stifle a sob, but she keeps the knife up, pointed in my direction. “Something is happening to us, Leeds. You’re going crazy. Or maybe it’s me, I don’t know, but it’s this house and we need to get out. Please.

So,Batman,eh?" Effing St. Clair. I cross my arms and slouch into one of the plastic seats. I am so not in the mood for this.He takes the chair next to me and drapes a relaxed arm over the back of the empty seat on his other side. The man across from us is engrossed in his laptop,and I pretend to be engrossed in his laptop,too. Well,the back of it. St. Clair hums under his breath. When I don't respond,he sings quietly. "Jingle bells,Batman smells,Robin flew away..." "Yes,great,I get it.Ha ha. Stupid me." "What? It's just a Christmas song." He grins and continues a bit louder. "Batmobile lost a wheel,on the M1 motorway,hey!" "Wait." I frown. "What?" "What what?" "You're singing it wrong." "No,I'm not." He pauses. "How do you sing it?" I pat my coat,double-checking for my passport. Phew. Still there. "It's 'Jingle bells, Batman smells,Robin laid an egg'-" St. Clair snorts. "Laid an egg? Robin didn't lay an egg-" "'Batmobile lost a wheel,and the Joker got away.'" He stares at me for a moment,and then says with perfect conviction. "No." "Yes.I mean,seriously,what's up with the motorway thing?" "M1 motorway. Connects London to Leeds." I smirk. "Batman is American. He doesn't take the M1 motorway." "When he's on holiday he does." "Who says Batman has time to vacation?" "Why are we arguing about Batman?" He leans forward. "You're derailing us from the real topic.The fact that you, Anna Oliphant,slept in today." "Thanks." "You." He prods my leg with a finger. "Slept in." I focus on the guy's laptop again. "Yeah.You mentioned that." He flashes a crooked smile and shrugs, that full-bodied movement that turns him from English to French. "Hey, we made it,didn't we? No harm done." I yank out a book from my backpack, Your Movie Sucks, a collection of Roger Ebert's favorite reviews of bad movies. A visual cue for him to leave me alone. St. Clair takes the hint. He slumps and taps his feet on the ugly blue carpeting. I feel guilty for being so harsh. If it weren't for him,I would've missed the flight. St. Clair's fingers absentmindedly drum his stomach. His dark hair is extra messy this morning. I'm sure he didn't get up that much earlier than me,but,as usual, the bed-head is more attractive on him. With a painful twinge,I recall those other mornings together. Thanksgiving.Which we still haven't talked about.

For us it is not comparable, the FA Cup and Champions League,’ Arsène Wenger said before Arsenal played Leeds in the FA Cup. ‘The Champions League is compulsory. The FA Cup is something that is for enjoyment … The basis of our life at the top level is dictated by the championship. If we can add on top of that the FA Cup it is fantastic.

Never do anything standing that you can do sitting, or anything sitting that you can do lying down.

Inside my room, I turn on Billy Holiday. There are only two kinds of music in my world. Billy Holiday and Halloween songs.

And which would you rather live in? The fake prison where you think you are free, or the real prison where you spend each day in drudgery?

ah've been on t'dole all mi life in fucking Leeds!

Leeds United had won but I didn’t care. I had lost.

Mrs. Leeds was lovely, wasn't she? You turned on the light after you cut his throat so Mrs. Leeds could watch him flop, didn't you? It was maddening to have to wear gloves when you touched her, wasn't it?

It was the explosion of EDM music where profit margins were exponentially higher because the entire under-aged clientele arrived totally fucked up on pills and needed to stay hydrated at the price of $7 per bottle for water.

It is a remarkable fact that the people who do things by hand still find time to add to their work some elaboration of mere beauty which makes it a joy to look on, while our machine-made tools, which could do so at much less cost, are too utilitarian to afford any ornament. It used to give me daily pleasure in Teheran to see the sacks in which refuse is carried off the streets woven with a blue and red decorative pattern: but can one imagine a borough council in Leeds or Birmingham expressing a delicate fancy of this kind? Beauty, according to these, is what one buys for the museum: pots and pans, taps and door-handles, though one has to look at them twenty times a day, have no call to be beautiful. So we impoverish our souls and keep our lovely things for rare occasions, even as our lovely thoughts - wasting the most of life in pondering domestic molehills or the Stock Exchange, among objects as ugly as the less attractive forms of sin.

Life and all its choice and lack of choices propelling us forward, holding us still. I want to lie in the dark here forever, suspended and out of time. I want to stop wanting for so much I cannot have. For things to stop moving forward and spinning away from me with such violent indifference.

The familial rupture led to Prince becoming a person who cannot trust others, and must be in dictatorial control of everything around him, Leeds explained, “Anyone assuming any kind of control frightens the hell out of him. So much of what he does is driven by fear, fear of someone else having control.

Dark myths and suburban legends roam like living things through the halls of Leeds High School, whispered in stairwells over bubblegum-tinted tongues ; scrawled on the wall of the secret room above the auditorium stage ; argued over in the shaded courtyard adjacent to the cafeteria, buoyed on grey-brown clouds of cigarette smoke. There’s the Weird House up on Tremens Terrace, haunted by a trio of cannibalistic fiends with a taste for wayward boys. And the coven of teachers, including Mr. Gauthier (Chemistry) and Miss Knell (English), who cavort with a charred-skin devil in the glass-walled natatorium after dark.

Tim and Andy stood there in head-to-toe leather motocross outfits, covered in road dust, behind me in a dark corner of the hotel’s dining room. Tim has penetrating pale blue eyes with tiny pupils, and the accent of an Englishman from the north – Newcastle, or Leeds maybe. Andy is an American with blond hair and the wholesome, well-fed good looks and accent of the Midwest. Behind them, two high-performance dirt bikes leaned on kickstands in the Hang Meas’ parking lot.      Tim owns a bar/restaurant in Siemreap. Andy is his chef. Go to the end of the world and apparently there will be an American chef there waiting for you.

Zijn goede bedoelingen werden gedwarsboomd door de onwankelbare starheid van Rebeca, die vele jaren van leed en ellende nodig had gehad om de voorrechten van de eenzaamheid te verkrijgen en die niet van plan was daarvan af te zien in ruil voor een oude dag welke verstoord zou worden door de valse aantrekkelijkheid van een anders medelijden.

When and where there is repression, what a woman does when she gets dressed in the morning may be considered political. Wearing or not wearing a veil, disobeying laws that prohibit transgender dressing, or wearing a large Afro in an institution that seeks to diminish the formation of racial alliances are all actions that can serve as challenges to domination

I'm not crazy, I'm compratmentalized.

This isn't your prison. This is mine.

Men," Maeve muses, "have always been permitted in fiction and in life to simply be what they are, no matter how dark or terrifying that might be. But with a woman, we expect an answer, a reason.

I have never understood, and still do not understand the notion that a woman must first endure a victimhood of some sort—abandonment, abuse, oppression of the patriarchy—to be monstrous. Men have always been permitted in fiction and in life to simply be what they are, no matter how dark or terrifying that might be. But with a woman, we expect an answer, a reason. But why would she do it? Why, why, why?

Travel became distinguishable from pain and began to be regarded as an intellectual pleasur...These factors--the voluntariness of departure, the freedom implicit in the indeterminancies of mobility, the pleasure of travel free from necessity, the notion that travel signifies autonomy and is a means for demonstrating what one 'really' is independent of one context or set of defining associations--remain the characteristics of the modern conception of travel. Eric Leed

Leed en la medida de lo posible pocos textos estéticos-críticos: se trata bien de opiniones partidistas, fosilizadas y que han ido perdiendo sentido en un anquilosamiento sin vida, o bien de hábiles juegos de palabras con el que hoy se demuestra un punto de vista y mañana el opuesto. Las obras artísticas son de una soledad interminable y la forma menos adecuada de abarcarlas es la crítica. Solo el amor puede abrazarlas y conservarlas y ofrecer una contraprestación justa.

Eric Leeds said at one point Prince wanted the band to all be vegan. Alan told his brother that to survive being in Prince’s band you had to at least pretend to drink the Kool-Aid, so, Eric said, you had guys being vegan when Prince was around and eating whatever they wanted when he wasn’t around. “He attached some spiritual component to it but looked at it as another way for him to exercise control,” Eric said. “If you’re gonna work for me then you have to conform to my ideal.

Who cares? Yes, it’s all in my head. But pain is ‘all in my head’ too. Love is ‘all in my head.’ All the things that matter in life are the things you can’t measure! The things our brains make up! Being made-up doesn’t make them unimportant.

The discovery that detonated Cleveland is one of Britain’s great contributions to awareness of child abuse. In 1986 and 1987 the Leeds paediatricians Dr Jane Wynne and Dr Christopher Hobbs reported in the Lancet that they were seeing more children who were being buggered than battered. About 300 cases were corroborated. The children were young – two-thirds were pre-school children – and anal abuse was more common than vaginal penetration. They also noted that ‘boys and girls seem to be at similar risk’. Almost half of the children who suffered anal abuse also showed a sign written up in the forensic textbooks as ‘anal dilation’, an anus opening when it was supposed to stay shut; opening and expecting entry. What the paediatricians were observing was not an acute sign, the effect of a single intrusion – a spasm or seizure – but a sign that was telling a story about everyday life; the anatomy of adaption. Anal dilation seemed to describe the architecture of abuse: it allowed the body to receive an incoming object, regularly.

I have a capital story which is quite new to me. The hero is a certain Professor Alexander, a philosopher, at Leeds, but I have no doubt that the story is older than he. He is said to have entered a railway carriage with a large perforated cardboard box which he placed on his knees. The only other occupant was an inquisitive woman. She stood it as long as she could, and at last, having forced him into conversation and worked the talk round (you can fill in that part of the story yourself) ventured to ask him directly what was in the box. ‘A mongoose madam.’ The poor woman counted the telegraph posts going past for a while and again could bear her curiosity no further. ‘And what are you going to do with the mongoose?’ she asked. ‘I am taking it to a friend who is unfortunately suffering from delirium tremens.’ ‘And what use will a mongoose be to him?’ ‘Why, Madam, as you know, the people who suffer from that disease find themselves surrounded with snakes: and of course a mongoose eats snakes.’ ‘Good Heavens!’ cried the lady, ‘but you don’t mean that the snakes are real?’ ‘Oh dear me, no said the Professor with imperturbable gravity. ‘But then neither is the mongoose!

On the negative side, this constant question/ thought continuum can turn into worry. Worry is the uneasy or anxious feeling we get when our questions cannot be readily answered. We go over past events and ask ourselves, "Why did I say that?" or "Why didn't I do that?" We think about our loved ones when they're not around and wonder, "Why hasn't he called yet?" or "When will she be home?" or "Has something horrible happened?" The broader the question ("Why am I so unhappy?" Or "What should I do with the rest of my life?"), the more difficult it is to answer and the more anxiety it produces.

Eric Leeds said, “This is a guy who has done some exceedingly generous and thoughtful things for me and other people but then a day later he could turn around and say something so off the wall and so ridiculously stupid and you’d say how do I reconcile these behaviors? People would wonder is he a bad guy who has good days or a good guy who has bad days? I think it’s because he has the emotional maturity of a five-year-old. And he never understood the value of doing something thoughtful for somebody on its own merits. He really didn’t understand the consequences of him doing something nice for somebody any more than he gave importance to the consequences of him doing something really nasty to somebody. The child doesn’t know that yet. You teach your child what works and what doesn’t and establish how relationships work. Well, Prince never got that and, to this day, he never has.

decade after the first edition of this book was published, Yan Wong and I met in the fitting surroundings of the Oxford Museum of Natural History to discuss the possibility of producing a new, tenth anniversary edition. Yan, once my undergraduate pupil, had been employed as my research assistant during the writing of the original edition, before he left for his lecturing position in Leeds and his career as a television presenter. He played an enormously important part in the conception and execution of the first edition, and he was credited as joint author of several of the chapters. During the course of our discussion ten years on, we realised that much new information had come in, especially from the molecular genetics laboratories of the world. Yan undertook the bulk of the revision and I proposed to the publisher that this time he should be properly credited as joint author of the whole book.

Police have announced the untimely and gruesome death of local poet and Leeds historian Michael Dooley. Mr. Dooley’s piteous remains were found in the pond of Langford Primary School, in the lunch bags of four children who attend the self-same school, in the confessional at Leeds Catholic Church, in the lanterns that line the catwalk that stretches between McCauliffe Park and Tremens Terrace, in a collection of small metal lock-boxes owned by local box collector Ruth Swaddleston, and wound around the trunks of ancient trees in the loneliest reaches of Look Park. Two toes each were found in stewpots in the kitchens of Mary Lowerton, Richard Frogtoucher, Susan Diggle, Nathaniel Ronstadt, and Robert Grain-Toggle. The poor man’s face was found hanging from a coat-hanger of local doctor Elias Stonehearse. It expected that more of Mr. Dooley will turn up when, once again, spring thaws the rivers and roads of our lovely city.

[Refers to 121 children taken into care in Cleveland due to suspected abuse (1987) and later returned to their parents] Sue Richardson, the child abuse consultant at the heart of the crisis, watched as cases began to unravel: “All the focus started to fall on the medical findings; other supportive evidence, mainly which we held in the social services department, started to be screened out. A situation developed where the cases either were proven or fell on the basis of medical evidence alone. Other evidence that was available to the court, very often then, never got put. We would have had statement from the child, the social workers and the child psychologist’s evidence from interviewing. We would have evidence of prior concerns, either from social workers or teachers, about the child’s behaviour or other symptoms that they might have been showing, which were completely aside from the medical findings. (Channel 4 1997) Ten years after the Cleveland crisis, Sue Richardson was adamant that evidence relating to children’s safety was not presented to the courts which subsequently returned those children to their parents: “I am saying that very clearly. In some cases, evidence was not put in the court. In other cases, agreements were made between lawyers not to put the case to the court at all, particularly as the crisis developed. Latterly, that children were sent home subject to informal agreements or agreements between lawyers. The cases never even got as far as the court. (Channel 4, 1997)” Nor is Richardson alone. Jayne Wynne, one of the Leeds paediatricians who had pioneered the use of RAD as an indicator of sexual abuse and who subsequently had detailed knowledge of many of the Cleveland children, remains concerned by the haphazard approach of the courts to their protection. I think the implication is that the children were left unprotected. The children who were being abused unfortunately returned to homes and the abuse may well have been ongoing. (Channel 4 1997)

Alle gevoelens die het lief en leed van een echte persoon in ons oproepen, doen zich alleen maar voor via een voorstelling van dat lief en leed; het vernuft van de eerste romanschrijver bestond erin te begrijpen dat, aangezien in het organisme van onze emoties de voorstelling het enige essentiële element is, de vereenvoudiging die het zijn zou om doodgewoon af te zien van echte personen, een decisieve verbetering zou betekenen. (...) En als de romancier ons eenmaal in die toestand heeft gebracht waarin, zoals bij alle louter innerlijke toestanden, iedere emotie tien keer zo groot wordt en zijn boek ons zal aangrijpen op de manier van een droom, maar van een droom die helderder is dan die wij slapend hebben en die ons langer bijblijft, dan maakt hij bij ons in een uur alle denkbare geluk en ongeluk los waar wij in het leven zelf jaren voor nodig zouden hebben om er iets van te leren kennen, en waarvan de meest intense vormen ons nooit zouden zijn geopenbaard doordat de trage gang waarmee ze zich voordoen ze aan onze waarneming onttrekt (zo verandert in het leven ons hart, en dat is allerpijnlijkst; maar wij kennen die pijn alleen in onze lectuur, in onze verbeelding: in de werkelijkheid verandert het hart, zoals bij sommige natuurverschijnselen gebeurt, zo langzaam dat, al kunnen wij elk van die verschillende toestanden successievelijk vaststellen, ons daarentegen de gewaarwording zelf van de verandering bespaard blijft).

Dither and I like to take the ladies out. Last night Maggie showered her blue-black guts over the barstool at the Dirty Truth while I swung the bartender into the wall-sized mirror by his ankles. Dither put his many fingers into six fraternity brothers while Winnie sucked off the beer spigots, her shattered pelvis undulating obscenely, her hair and dress alive with blood beetles. Then we burst out into the streets. I sliced off heads all down Pleasant while Dither shoved swords up through the seats at the Calvin Theater. Winnie set bassinets afire at Cooley Dickinson while Maggie squatted to piss in the lobster tank in the Stop & Shop. We pinwheeled through the Bridge Street cemetery, upending ancient caskets and sending their contents into the grey sky until it looked like smoke from a great fire. It was a beautiful night; we poured wine into our lungs like drowning sots. In the pink morning we were stacked on the benches like cordwood. The sky was a sick yellow bruise. The sun was a cold dead eye. The winds raised up and shook the houses and thrashed the trees. A great fire is coming to Leeds. Pneumonic plagues and blood from the faucets and worms exploding up into bath tubs from the drains. You’re listening to WXXT. The time is 6:16 a.m. It is not too late to rise, rise and do what needs to be done. Up next, we’ve got Burton Stallhearse and the Grappling Grannies performing their version of “Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the Ground.

LAS EMPRESAS TAMBIÉN APROVECHAN “Las empresas son cada más conscientes de que el impacto que tienen sobre el medio ambiente repercute mucho”, indica Cristina Palacios. En este tono, el auto compartido representa una ventana de oportunidad. Por un lado, ya no hay abasto de estacionamiento para el personal de muchas empresas, advierte la fundadora de Aventones. “Conocemos a empresas que rentan hasta tres estacionamientos satelitales y un lugar de estacionamiento puede estar costando entre 800 y 3,000 pesos. El gasto es enorme”. Por otro lado, el promover que sus empleados vayan juntos al trabajo contribuye a obtener certificaciones internacionales. Poseer el servicio de Aventones habilitado en su empresa da puntos a favor para la certificación LEED (Leadership in Energy & Environmental Design), que es un sistema de certificación de edificios sostenibles. Dentro de los requisitos para esa distinción, Palacios asegura que el transporte es una de las cosas que necesitan tener solucionadas las empresas para que sea sostenible. “El transporte puede llegar a ser muchísimo en la medición de emisiones de CO2, sobre todo en empresas de servicios, donde no tienen alta contaminación por ?la industria”. Por otro lado, añade, también están las certificaciones Great Place to Work y empresas socialmente responsables, donde incluir iniciativas como Aventones les da puntos a favor. Hasta la fecha, Aventones ha colaborado con 80 empresas, desde privadas hasta instituciones de gobierno y planean una expansión en universidades.

The pigeon had been unlucky. Ten birds had been on their way back to their Ilkley coop, flying in stolid, heavy formation; nine had returned home. The tenth, flying low over the moor at the base of this avian wedge, had plummeted soundlessly to the soil, its senses overwhelmed by the tendrils of consciousness which had enwrapped them. When the pigeon awoke, moments later, all of the rudimentary universal constructs which defined pigeonness in its brain had been carefully swept away, save one. The entity didn't need birdseed; it didn't need a pigeon coup in Ilkley; but it needed to fly. And it needed as much of the pigeon's cerebral activity as possible to focus on getting it to its desired location, which meant that for the first time in its life, this pigeon was reading roadsigns. It was also experiencing emotions for which it was somewhat unprepared, most notably an insistent, imperative yearning for Leeds United.

I am breathing in and making my whole body calm and at peace. I am breathing out and making my whole body calm and at peace. This is how one practices.

95% of penny stocks are junk. I show you how to find the other 5%, and do it all without bribes or vested interests. Just good quality companies.

There are stains on their knees, stains on their arses. Dirty Leeds.

Tevoren waren zij, die leden om een afwezige, niet werkelijk ongelukkig geweest; over hun leed viel een glans van licht.

BANKS ENJOYED THE DRIVE TO LEEDS. THE WEATHER WAS fine, the traffic not too horrendous, and the iPod shuffle treated him to a truly random medley of David Crosby, John Cale, Pentangle and Grinderman, among others. A mild beer hangover from Kev Templeton’s wake hammered away insistently in the back of his head, muffled by extra-strength aspirin and plenty of water. At least he had had the sense to avoid spirits and sleep on Hatchley’s sofa, though the children had awoken him at some ungodly hour of the morning. Annie had gone home early and said she would be coming back to Eastvale sometime to talk to Elizabeth Wallace. Banks and Annie planned to meet for a late lunch and compare notes. Julia

Sexton had good cause to study his prototype Opta-style stats during the 1968/69 season, which followed a now familiar Chelsea pattern. The Blues finished fifth in the league, without ever seriously challenging runaway champions Leeds. Again, the various cups promised much but delivered nothing but disappointment. In

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blowing

Bij het licht van het vuur zag alleen Ana de blik die de Trianera haar toewierp. Het was maar een seconde, misschien nog minder. De blik van een zigeunerin: koud en hard, in staat om tot in de ziel door te dringen. Ana rechtte haar rug, bereid de uitdaging aan te nemen, maar ze stuitte op de blik van de Graaf. Luister en leer! zei zijn gezicht.
   De Trianera zong zonder muziek, zonder dat iemand schreeuwde, klapte of haar aanmoedigde. Een melancholisch vers, een debla: een lied gericht tot zigeunergodinnen. Haar hese stem, oud, zwak, vals, raakte degenen die luisterde echter in hun diepste wezen. Ze hield haar gekromde, trillende handen voor haar borst, alsof dat haar kracht gaf, en zing over het vele leed van de zigeuners: het onrecht, de gevangenis, de verbroken liefdes... in verzen zonder metrum die hun betekenis ontleenden aan het ritme dat de stem van de Trianera eraan wilde geven en die altijd eindigden met een loftuiging in zigeunertaal. Deblica barea, schitterende godin.
Er leek geen einde aan het lied te komen. De Trianera had het zo lang kunnen maken als haar verbeeldingskracht of haar herinneringen zouden hebben toegelaten, maar ten slotte liet ze haar handen op haar knieën vallen en hief ze haar tot dan toe gebogen hoofd op. Met een brok in hun keel brastten de zigeuners, onder wie ook Ana, opnieuw in applaus uit; velen met betraande ogen. Milagros klapte ook, terwijl ze schuin naar haar moeder keek.  (p. 50-51, La reina descalza)

Daar is niet éen die eenzaam gaat als ik, en geen der andren draagt zijn harts geheim- dit donker zaad dat zwelt naar lichten bloei, dit stomme leed dat hijgt naar luid geluk- in zulk een klem van onverbreekbaar zwijgen.

Forget typing,” Pamela wrote from Leeds, “you should read philosophy at university, you have the right kind of mind for it. Like a terrier with a terrifically tedious bone.”)

Secrets of the Millionaire Mind’ by T Harv Eker.

The Richest Man in Babylon’ by George Samuel Clason.

eyes so wide, I could see the whites all around her pupils

Buses have never inspired the same affection - too comfortable and cushioned to have a moral dimension. Trams were bare and bony, transport reduced to its basic elements, and they had a song to sing, which buses never did. I was away at university when they started to phase them out, Leeds as always in too much of a hurry to get to the future, and so doing the wrong thing. I knew at the time that it was a mistake, just as Beeching was a mistake, and that life is starting to get nastier. If trams ever come back, though, they should come back not as curiosities, nor, God help us, as part of the heritage, but as a cheap and sensible way of getting from point A to point B, and with a bit of poetry thrown in. 

Kind of looks like a potato who is pretending to be a man, and is worried someone will call his bluff.

La gente quiere historias, aclaran las cosas, dicen; y cuanto más auténtica es la historia, más gusta. Pero las historias verídicas nadie sabe contarlas. Sin embargo, estamos hechos de historias, nos han criado junto a ellas desde la infancia: «¡Escuchad! ¡Leed! ¡Mirad!», hágase nuestra verdad, que nos toque en lo más vivo, que nos envíe lo más lejos posible mediante imágenes y palabras.

The most common certifications include: • LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design), an internationally recognized green building rating and certification system • HERS (Home Energy Rating System), a nationally recognized rater of a building’s energy efficiency • Energy Star, a US government-backed symbol for energy-efficient products

Priestley, a brilliant man with an astonishing variety of talents, did not lack for career options. He was employed as a minister for a Dissenting church in Leeds, England. (“Dissenting” meant that it was not affiliated with the Church of England, the state-sanctioned religion.) But

Du Trænen, du berger saa mangen en Baad, Naar Allene raser, u-børgen og kaad, Gud haver dig selver beskantzet, Med Halser og Hikler, med Staver og Meed, Paa hvilke de Aller sin Skanker af Leed Har ofte forsprunget og dantzet.

Everyone have boiler and central heater and if you want to install the Central heating and remove the old central heating ,The Paul Griffiths Plumbing and Heating is UK based business with provides experienced and fully qualified Engineers for Central Heating Installations in Leeds at competitive prices.

Maar ik zal niet spreken van mieren, welker vreugde of leed door de grofheid onzer zintuigen aan onze waarneming ontsnapt.

Everyone want to be safe in office and home. Gas safe is also the part of safety.If do you want to make your home and office safe from Gas. The Paul Griffiths Plumbing and Heating is UK based business with provides experienced and fully qualified Gas Safe Engineers in Leeds at competitive prices.

There is a good guilt and a bad guilt... the good one Leeds us to ask for forgiveness the bad Leeds us to hide from God.

On a piece of wasteland in Leeds I once saw a used condom in the grass. A dead and sordid thing. And yet to my thirteen-year-old mind the whole mystery of life seemed to stream through it. Nothing I’ve seen since has been so eloquent of the thrilling and terrifying mysteries of life.

History was composed of events like this and you revealed your age by how far back you could remember. Was it the searches on the moors, the prostitutes who weren’t missed in Halifax and Leeds, the runaways who vanished into the hell which was Cromwell Street or two little girls missing in Soham?

Het leed van een wereld is draagbaar als verfrissend water wanneer de adelaar hoog boven thermiek, kennis en wijsheid boven de zon weet te plaatsen.

Vesta Tilley and Marie Lloyd on the stage in Leeds meself, with me own eyes, mavourneen. Then there are the new tramcars. Amazing vehicles, to be sure, that run on tracks without the need for horses to pull ’em any more. They go from the Corn Exchange to all parts of town. I have ridden on one, sure and I have. I sat on the top deck, that’s open to the world and the weather, viewing the town like a real gent.

They were in the more upmarket part of Leeds; Flora had started her search in the more affordable quarters, but the men there

Lijden is het grootste geven. Te geven aan wie men liefheeft, het leed van zijn lijdende ziel, is de grootste gift, die te geven is.

The formal definition of insanity is actually quite fluid. Two people can have the exact same condition, with the exact same severity, but one can be considered sane by the official standards while the other is considered insane. You cross the line into insanity when your mental state stops you from being able to function, from being able to have a normal life. By those standards, I’m not the least bit insane.

Plenty of ‘sane’ people can’t manage to keep it all under control. Their mental state—stress, anxiety, frustration—gets in the way of their ability to be happy. Compared to them, I think I’m downright stable. Though I do admit, it would be nice to be left alone. I don’t want to be anyone special.

100%原版制作學历證书【+V信1954 292 140】《利兹大学學位證》University Of Leeds

People don’t know how to handle schizophrenics. They’ve read stories, seen films. We make them afraid, though statistically we’re not any more likely to commit violent crimes than the average person.

A true soldier knows each weapon he owns through repeated firing. No gun fires perfectly straight. Each has a personality.

The true zealot would not need validation. The Lord would provide validation. No, I see something else here. A man seeking to meld science and faith, the first person—perhaps in the history of mankind—to actually find a way to apply science to the ultimate truths of religion. I find that noble.

Leeds focused on Miss Blair.

A strong rudder steers the ship even in a storm.

Two guns, Kyle. One is real, one is fake. Can you tell which is which? Can you feel them, cold against your skin? Death in one hand, a game in the other. Which should I fire? Right or left? Would you like to choose?

Some people theorize, that what I see are ghosts. If you’ve read about me, then you’ll know. I do things I shouldn’t be able to. Know things I shouldn’t know. Because I have help.

A psychotic who finds it more tiring to create his fantasy world than live in the real one?

Even a man trying to save the world had to eat.

100%原版制作學历證书【+V信1954 292 140】《利兹贝克特大学學位證》Leeds Beckett University

Well, of course, I’m not an idiot.” Archie tilted his head to the side and blinked. “I thought you were some super soldier that could sense danger around every corner. Are you telling me that you didn’t know a thirteen-year-old hid in the back of the Jeep?

And second, I can keep you from crawling so far into a bottle that you never come out.” “Oh, I don’t know about that.” I followed her out. “I’m really good at crawling.