Mark Sloan Quotes

I want you to promise me something. If you love someone, you tell them. Even if you're scared that it's not the right thing. Even if you're scared that it will cause problems. Even if you're scared it will burn your life to the ground. You say it, and you say it loud. And then you go from there....

If you love someone, you tell them. Even if you're scared that it's not the right thing. Even if you're scared that it'll cause problems. Even if you're scared that it will burn your life to the ground, you say it, and you say it loud and you go from there.

I’m going to miss you, Cohen. I know you don’t look at me like I look at you, but one day, you’re going to come back and I’ll still be waiting for you. Waiting for you to see me like I see you. Mark my words, Cohen Cage. One of these days, you’re going to be mine. And until you’re ready . . . I’ll be here. I’ll be waiting.

But somehow we forget that all that matters is people. And whether we walk away leaving them better or worse for having met us.

I did not know people your age still read books,' Penumbra says. He raises an eyebrow. 'I was under the impression they read everything on their mobile phones.' 'Not everyone. There are plenty of people who, you know--people who still like the smell of books.' 'The smell!' Penumbra repeats. 'You know you are finished when people start talking about the smell.' He smiles at that--then something occurs to him, and he narrows his eyes. 'I do not suppose you have a...Kindle?' Uh-oh. It feels like it's the principal asking me if I have weed in my backpack. But in a friendly way, like maybe he wants to share it. As it happens, I do have my Kindle. I pull it out of my messenger bag. It's a bit battered with wide scratches across the back and stray pen marks near the bottom of the screen. Penumbra holds it aloft and frowns. It's blank. I reach up and pinch the corner and it comes to life. He sucks in a sharp breath, and the pale gray rectangle reflects in his bright blue eyes.

Such innocent confusions are like cognitive magic-eye posters. Most of the time it's impossible to go back to the jumbled mess once you've registered the picture. Sex is the exception. So natural and universal is a child's curiosity about sex and so long are we conscious of it before we do it, that our origical impressions of it leave an indelible mark.

So natural and universal is a child's curiosity about sex and so long are we conscious of it before we do it, that our original impressions of it leave an indelible mark.

Why do organizations need to mark everything with their insignia? It’s like a dog peeing on every tree. Google is the same way. So was NewBagel. Using

What was his brother hiding from him? And why? “This is different. Like you’ve been permanently—” Cael gasped. “Oh my God, Dex! Did Sloane mark you?” “Um…

Penumbra [...] produces another e-reader - it's a Nook. Then another one, a Sony. Another one, marked KOBO. Really? Who has a Kobo?

Red light therapeutic range: 620-700nm Near-Infrared light therapeutic range: 700-1000nm.

I'm still in love with you. I tried not to be, it didn't work...I want another chance. I'm in love with you. Mark, i- i have a boyfriend. I know. I'm saying you can have a husband.

I’m not sure how the ponies happened, though I have an inkling: “Can I get you anything?” I’ll say, getting up from a dinner table, “Coffee, tea, a pony?” People rarely laugh at this, especially if they’ve heard it before. “This party’s ‘sposed to be fun,” a friend will say. “Really? Will there be pony rides?” It’s a nervous tic and a cheap joke, cheapened further by the frequency with which I use it. For that same reason, it’s hard to weed it out of my speech – most of the time I don’t even realize I’m saying it. There are little elements in a person’s life, minor fibers that become unintentionally tangled with your personality. Sometimes it’s a patent phrase, sometimes it’s a perfume, sometimes it’s a wristwatch. For me, it is the constant referencing of ponies. I don’t even like ponies. If I made one of my throwaway equine requests and someone produced an actual pony, Juan-Valdez-style, I would run very fast in the other direction. During a few summers at camp, I rode a chronically dehydrated pony named Brandy who would jolt down without notice to lick the grass outside the corral and I would careen forward, my helmet tipping to cover my eyes. I do, however, like ponies on the abstract. Who doesn’t? It’s like those movies with the animated insects. Sure, the baby cockroach seems cute with CGI eyelashes, but how would you feel about fifty of her real-life counterparts living in your oven? And that’s precisely the manner in which the ponies clomped their way into my regular speech: abstractly. “I have something for you,” a guy will say on our first date. “Is it a pony?” No. It’s usually a movie ticket or his cell phone number. But on our second date, if I ask again, I’m pretty sure I’m getting a pony. And thus the Pony drawer came to be. It’s uncomfortable to admit, but almost every guy I have ever dated has unwittingly made a contribution to the stable. The retro pony from the ‘50s was from the most thoughtful guy I have ever known. The one with the glitter horseshoes was from a boy who would later turn out to be straight somehow, not gay. The one with the rainbow haunches was from a librarian, whom I broke up with because I felt the chemistry just wasn’t right, and the one with the price tag stuck on the back was given to me by a narcissist who was so impressed with his gift he forgot to remover the sticker. Each one of them marks the beginning of a new relationship. I don’t mean to hint. It’s not a hint, actually, it’s a flat out demand: I. Want. A. Pony. I think what happens is that young relationships are eager to build up a romantic repertoire of private jokes, especially in the city where there’s not always a great “how we met” story behind every great love affair. People meet at bars, through mutual friends, on dating sites, or because they work in the same industry. Just once a coworker of mine, asked me out between two stops on the N train. We were holding the same pole and he said, “I know this sounds completely insane, bean sprout, but would you like to go to a very public place with me and have a drink or something...?” I looked into his seemingly non-psycho-killing, rent-paying, Sunday Times-subscribing eyes and said, “Sure, why the hell not?” He never bought me a pony. But he didn’t have to, if you know what I mean.

Sloane quickly prepped Dex, his dick soon replacing his fingers inside his lover. The feral beast inside him rejoiced. Dex was his. Would always be his. Any Therian who laid eyes on Dex’s arm would know what the deliberate claw marks meant.

Page 43: Natural selection is a multilevel process that operates among groups in addition to among individuals within groups. Any unit becomes endowed with the properties inherent in the word organism to the degree that it is a unit of selection. The history of life on earth has been marked by many transitions from groups of organisms to groups as organisms. Organismic groups achieve their unity with mechanisms that suppress selection within without themselves being overtly altruistic. Human evolution falls within the paradigm of multilevel selection and the major transitions of life. Moral systems provide many of the mechanisms that enable human groups to function as adaptive units.

Did you know,” a doctor named Mark Souweidane told me on a visit to Memorial Sloan Kettering hospital in New York, “that when we put chemo through an IV to treat a brain tumor, only three percent of it actually gets to the brain? There’s something called a blood/brain barrier, a membrane that’s very selective about what it lets in. Three percent. The rest just stays in the bloodstream.

Sloane inhaled sharply, and he relinquished control to his Therian side without any further thought. His claws came out, and his painful cry drowned out Dex’s as the tips of Sloane’s claws pierced his lover’s skin. Dex clutched at Sloane, his finger’s digging into his bicep and his jaw clenched as he tried desperately to keep himself quiet. His eyes grew glassy and red, but Sloane could see Dex fighting to keep himself from screaming. Darkness encroached Sloane’s vision, his senses sharpening. Slowly and deliberately he sliced at Dex’s arm, making sure to go deep enough to leave his mark permanently but not enough where Dex would need stitches. Sloane’s heart pounded, the scent of Dex’s blood filling his nostrils. He ground his hips against Dex as he finished leaving his mark around Dex’s forearm. As soon as he was finished, he pulled off his T-shirt and wrapped it around his partner’s bleeding arm, tying it firmly in place. His eyes landed on Dex, and he was taken aback by the heat in those amazing eyes. They clawed at each other’s clothes the best they could with Dex’s arm and Sloane’s leg. Desire and love turned into desperation, sending them both into a frenzy of need and lust. Sloane spit into his hand, making it good and wet, then wrapped it around his cock, stroking himself before he pushed a finger against Dex’s entrance. “Yes,” Dex hissed, his fingers slipping into Sloane’s hair and grabbing fistfuls of it. “Please, fuck me.” Sloane

Did you say—you love me?” Sloane took a step back, and Dex held his hands up, praying his partner didn’t do what he looked like he was about to do. Then he remembered his brother was in the room. Double shit. Sloane seemed to sense his thoughts. “Cael knows about us.” “What? When the fuck did that happen?” What in the ever-living fuck of fucks is going on around here? Cael glared at him. “Thanks, bro.” Dex didn’t have time to answer his brother because something in his gut told him he had to do something fast. Sloane was about to bolt. Dex could see it in his eyes. “You didn’t answer my question,” Sloane demanded softly. “And don’t try to play it off. I know you too well by now.” What was he supposed to do? Lie? He could lie. No, he was a shitty liar. But he could…. Fuck it. “Yes. I love you.” “When?” Sloane asked, his voice growing more distant. When? “I don’t know? It’s not like I marked it on my calendar.” “Don’t.” It was a subtle but grave warning. Dex wasn’t trying to be a smartass. It’s just what his brain went to when he was on the verge of freaking out about something. And if there was ever a time to freak out about something, this was it. “I know it’s too soon, which is why I wasn’t going to say anything, but with everything going on, it just slipped.” “So you were going to keep it from me?” Dex felt himself deflate and he shrugged. “What’s the right answer here, Sloane?” There was none. They both knew it. He took a step toward Sloane, his heart breaking when Sloane pulled back. “I need some air,” Sloane said, backing up until he hit the security panel. He turned and entered his security code. Dex could feel it all crumbling around him, and he felt sick to his stomach. Even then, he stayed where he was, refusing to force Sloane. “Can we please talk about this?” “Not right now. I need some space.” The door had barely finished opening before Sloane squeezed through and was off, taking Dex’s heart with him.

Dammit, I’m dying here. No, worse, I’m already dead. Wheel me off to the fucking coroner's office, and mark down cause of death: Keely’s dirty mind and miraculous cunt.

In 1955, the year my mom was pregnant with me, Bertolt Brecht voted Mao Zedong’s essay “On Contradiction” the “best book” he had read in the past twelve months, a period of time that saw the publication of William Golding’s Lord of the Flies, Kingsley Amis’s Lucky Jim, Sloan Wilson’s The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit, J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, and Dr. Seuss’s Horton Hears a Who! Mao…a guy who never brushed his teeth, who just rinsed his mouth out with tea when he woke up…who, according to his personal physician, Li Zhisui, never cleaned his genitals. Instead, Mao said, “I wash myself inside the bodies of my women.” The Imaginary Intern and I were great admirers of Mao’s Talks at the Yan’an Forum on Literature and Art and we diligently tried to apply his dictum “Discard what is backward and develop what is revolutionary” to the production of Gone with the Mind, and although I agree with Mao that one should bathe infrequently, and that when one does, one should use the vaginal flora of other creatures instead of soap, I subscribe unswervingly to the conviction that a gentleman should never go out in public at night without pomaded hair and heavy cologne…

When a cell is given everything it needs to metabolize properly – a process involving the chemical oxidation of glucose into carbon dioxide within the mitochondria – the cell is healthy.  It is the breakdown of efficient metabolism within cells and tissues that heralds cancer and other diseases in the body.

On her lips, which were dry, was a new shade of lipstick, by Tussy; her doctor had ordered her to put on lipstick and powder right in the middle of labour; he and Sloan both thought it was important for a maternity patient to keep herself up to the mark.

As Buckminster Fuller once wrote, ‘the truth is always beautiful and simple’ - and the truth is that only one disease exists:  A malfunctioning cell.

Defects in cytochrome c oxidase expression induce a metabolic shift to glycolysis and carcinogenesis," wrote scientists from the University of Pennsylvania in 2015.

Slowly, Dex entered the workshop, biting down on his tongue to keep quiet. Sloane stood in the middle of the workshop, arms high above his head, a couple of thick chains hanging from the ceiling binding his wrists, another around his neck to keep him from shifting to his Therian form. If he shifted, he’d end up breaking his neck. His ankles were bound by duct tape, and he was bare-chested, his black T-shirt on the floor. There were cuts and lacerations spread over his torso and arms, along with small burn marks. That son of a bitch had tortured him. Dex couldn’t tell if Sloane was breathing. His head hung low, his black hair falling in disarray. “Sloane?

Therian lover were completely different, outside of the obvious. “You won’t like what you hear. He’s not… civil. I think he knew how I felt before I did. Everything I feel, he feels ten times stronger. It can be a little… disturbing.” “Try me.” There was no mistaking the sincerity in Dex’s voice. Sloane pressed his hard body down against Dex’s, his voice low as he tried to keep his grip on his feral half. “He wants me to mark you so that every Therian will know you belong to us.” His finger circled one of the faint lines on Dex’s arm. Dex swallowed hard, his blue eyes moving to his arm in Sloane’s grip. They widened slightly as Sloane’s nails slowly elongated. Sloane hissed at the pain, but he held his feral side at bay. Dex moved his eyes back to Sloane, the lust in them taking Sloane’s breath away. “Do it.” “Dex,

Dex, you don’t know what you’re saying.” Even as he whispered the words, he could feel his feral side demanding he go through with it. Sloane’s blood felt hot inside his skin, his eyesight remained sharp, and his fangs began to grow. “Please, Dex. I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t.” The thought alone frightened Sloane. He’d never done anything like this before. His Human side desired Dex. His Therian side wanted to claim him. “I love you. Please. I want you to. I need you to.” Dex cupped Sloane through his pajama bottoms and Sloane hissed. He was so hard it was painful. Dex didn’t know what he was doing. “Dex,” Sloane pleaded. He gritted his teeth against the pain of his claws growing in. “Do it,” Dex urged, slipping his hand inside Sloane’s pants and stroking him. “Make me yours. I want to be yours in every way possible.” Sloane’s hold on his feral side was tremulous at best, and Dex kept pushing. How could he make his partner understand? “This is serious, Dex. You’ll have this mark for the rest of your life.” “Good. Because that’s how long I want you with me.” Sloane

Ash’s eyes went wide. “You marked Daley? Holy fuck, Sloane.” “I know.” “This

Ethan was about to head to the building when Taylor grabbed Dex by the arm and jerked him against him. Dex made to shove Taylor away, but the guy wasn’t budging. What the hell was he doing? “What the fuck, Taylor?” Dex tried pulling his arm out of Taylor’s grip, but Taylor held on. He sniffed at Dex, a low rumble of a growl coming up from his chest. Shit. Was it the mark? It had to be. They all knew Taylor had a thing for Dex. He’d been sniffing around Dex since he joined the THIRDS, but Ethan thought they’d reached an understanding. With a feral growl, Sloane jerked Taylor away from Dex. He got up in Taylor’s face, his larger stature imposing as he loomed over Taylor’s smaller leopard Therian size. “There

Because you were the one who walked out, broke his heart, and left him with your mark.” Ash looked up at him. “Taylor’s been sniffing around him, just so you know.” Sloane’s fur bristled. Or at least it would have if he’d been in his Therian form. “I didn’t leave him. Dex is still mine.” “From where they’re sitting,” Ash said, pointing out at the bull pen, “it doesn’t look that way.” Ash sat back, his expression concerned. “What?” “I don’t know. It’s weird. It’s like you can smell the hurt on him, Sloane. It reminds me of the night in the club, when his scent changed. Like he’s giving off these pheromones, this need for comfort. Taylor’s not the only one who’s been hovering. Hobbs, Seb, Hudson, hell, even fucking Zach has been up here. He brought Dex Cheesy Doodles.” Sloane gaped at him. “Zach came up here from Unit Beta to give Dex cheese snacks?” “Yep. I don’t think it’s a sexual thing. Well, maybe for Taylor, but you know he’s been all up in Dex’s ass from day one. Hobbs wouldn’t do that to Cal. It’s like our feral halves know he’s wounded and want to comfort, which is weird because Dex isn’t a Therian, so why would our Therian halves give a fuck? I mean, as Humans we do, because emotions and all that shit, but our feral halves?” “Wait….

I want to bite and mark every inch of her body, tell the whole world she’s off limits.

But as we all learn eventually, life is fragile, and things can change in an instant.

Cancer metastasis is the primary cause of most cancer deaths,[20-22] and yet the public remains almost completely unaware that surgical removal of a tumor has been known to cause cancer metastasis for over 100 years.

19th century “Women’s doctor” named J. Marion Sims was the spiritual founder of the Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center.  Sims received a very brief medical training before he began performing surgery.  While some tattoo artists develop their skills by practicing on the skin of pigs or even the porous skin of a grapefruit, Sims began his training on a group of slave women from the southern United States.

It’s well-established that biopsies suppress the immune system and promote cancer metastasis,[14-17]

For most of us, the idea of murdering over 100 million people for the sake of profit is incomprehensible.  Scientists analyzing this bewildering psychology for a number of decades have come to the conclusion that higher social class “predicts increased unethical behavior.”[4-6]  A 2012 review on the subject noted that upper-class individuals were more likely to break the law, steal, lie, endorse unethical behavior and cheat to increase their chances of winning a prize.

Nearly every disease state known to man has been linked to low mitochondrial activity.  Understanding which foods and factors enhance metabolism, and which inhibit it are paramount for successfully preventing or reversing disease.

Of the 50,000+ studies published on red light therapy to date, no adverse side effects have been reported.

red light therapy is an FDA approved treatment for a number of conditions, including acne, muscle and joint pain, arthritis, compromised blood circulation, and for reversing hair loss.

Based on my research, the most significant dietary factor causing both pain and inflammation in the body are the consumption of polyunsaturated fatty acids (PUFA).  In my book Cancer: The Metabolic Disease Unravelled, I present a mountain of evidence revealing the following negative health consequences of PUFA: - It directly inhibits the cytochrome c oxidase enzyme - It inhibits the immune system by shrinking the thymus gland and by directly killing white blood cells - It lowers oxygen use by cells - It inhibits thyroid function in at least five ways

researchers implanted tumors into mice and found when they left the tumors alone, cancer metastasis almost never occurred.  But when they incompletely cut out the tumors, metastasis frequently

The root cause of all chronic degenerative diseases is a dysfunctional metabolism.

The Cancer Industry

Cancer: The Metabolic Disease Unravelled.

Doctors put drugs of which they know little into bodies of which they know less for diseases of which they know nothing at all.

My studies have proved conclusively that untreated cancer victims live up to four times longer than treated individuals. If one has cancer and opts to do nothing at all, he will live longer and feel better than if he undergoes radiation, chemotherapy or surgery, other than when used in immediate life-threatening situations.

minutes to write a quick and honest review on Amazon. I read every review personally, and I use the feedback to make improvements to the book in future editions. If you haven’t already, be sure to subscribe to my newsletter at Endalldisease.com, where you’ll receive all the latest books and articles that I publish, as well as three free eBooks just for signing up.

It’s not difficult to see why the World Health Organization has added methylene blue to its list of Essential Medicines.

If you love someone, tell them. Even if you're scared that it's not the right thing. Even if you're scared it will cause problems. Even if you're scared it will burn your life to the ground. You tell them and you say it loud.

Einstein issued a very important warning: “Don’t go back into academia,” he said.  “They will kill every bit of originality out of you.  In order to become a full professor, you have to get approved on every level and you cannot question the existing ideas too much or else you won’t get promoted… have a shoemaker’s job for the rest of your life, so that you can do something useful for humanity.

What evidence do you have that doing this procedure to me is better than not doing it to me?

I actually felt tears sting my eyes as the pleasure flooded my entire system all at once. I knew I was being way too rough with Eli as I held him in place while I rammed my cock down his throat as jet after jet of cum shot out of me, but I couldn’t stop the need to empty myself inside of him, to claim him…to mark him.