Maltese Best Quotes

I googled “what to do when your future werewolf mate / boyfriend /best friend courts you and brings you a dead rabbit.” First, there was a lot of porn. Then I found a recipe for Maltese rabbit stew. It was delicious. The stew, not the porn. The porn was weird.    

On arrival at Orly Airport, Fritz and Magda hired a taxi which drove them to the city. They saw before them a metropolis crowned with triumphal architecture and magnificent monuments. The first Parisian landmark that caught their eye was the majestic Eiffel Tower and, in the background, on a distant hill, the white church of Montmartre. They immediately opted that their hotel could wait and asked the driver to take them around the city, though they knew that this would cost them a whole day's budget. What they began to see was simply spectacular: wide areas edified with splendid monuments, fantastic fountains, enchanting gardens and bronze statues representing the best exponents who flourished in the city, amongst whom artists, philosophers, musicians and great writers. The River Seine fascinated them, with boatloads of tourists all eager to see as much as they could of the city. They also admired a number of bridges, amongst which the flamboyant Pont Alexandre III. The driver, a friendly, balding man of about fifty, with moustaches à la Clemenceau, informed them that quite nearby there was the famous Pont Neuf which, ironically, was the first to be built way back in 1607. They continued their tour...

This is the stuff dreams are made of, right?" I could've pointed out the misquotation; everybody goes for Humphrey Bogarst's famous like from The Maltese Falcon, when the words actually are "We are such stuff as dreams are made on" and they belong to Master Shakespeare, but you know what? With all due to respect to the women's movement, the fact is that, on rare occasions, silence really is a girl's best garment. So I just smiled instead.

The bus had a name too. Elaborately painted letters across the back declared it to be “Old but Sexy.” It occurred to me that as I slipped inexorably into middle age, such a title might be the best I myself could hope for.

He turned to face her. The two vertical lines above his nose were deep clefts between red wales. "I don't give a damn about your honesty," he told her, trying to make himself speak calmly. "I don't care what kind of tricks you're up to, what your secrets are, but I've got to have something to show that you know what you're doing." "I do know. Please believe that I do, and that it's all for the best, and--" "Show me," he ordered. "I'm willing to help you. I've done what I could so far. If necessary I'll go ahead blindfolded, but I can't do it without more confidence in you than I've got now. You've got to convince me that you know what it's all about, that you're not simply fiddling around by guess and by God, hoping it'll come out all right somehow in the end.

Quick," she said as she walked by me into the house. "Look up rabbit recipes on the Internet before you go to work." "You're dripping on the floor!" "It's just a dead rabbit, Ox. You sound hysterical." "I sound hygienic." I wasn't very good with Internet stuff, so I googled "what to do when your future werewolf mate/boyfriend/best friend courts you and brings you a dead rabbit." First, there was a lot of porn. Then I found a recipe for Maltese rabbit stew. It was delicious. The stew, not the porn. The porn was weird.

The combination of GST and AcroYoga (page 52) has completely remodeled my body in the last year. I’m more flexible and mobile at age 39 than I was at age 20. I’m going to skip explaining a lot (e.g., Maltese, Stalder press handstand) that is best seen in video or pictures, though I’ll describe the most critical (starting on page 53). Google is your friend.