Ml Love Quotes

For someone who loved words as much as I did, it was amazing how often they failed me.

Were you in love with him?' 'Yes,' I say, simply. James and I put each other through the kind of reckless passions Gwendolyn once talked about, joy and anger and desire and despair. After all that, was it really so strange? I am no longer baffled or amazed or embarrassed by it. 'Yes, I was.' It's not the whole truth. The whole truth is, I'm in love with him still.

It’s not the whole truth. The whole truth is, I’m in love with him still.

You were real to me. Sometimes I thought you were the only real thing.

Was I not always his right-hand man, his lieutenant? Banquo or Benvolio or Oliver - little difference.

I was seized by the strange unfounded idea that she was debating whether or not to say I love you. But the difference between us was that she assumed people just knew these sorts of things, while I always worried that they didn’t.

This... you are my story... and I was so selfish, so tied to that shadow that I missed it. And my son, I— I’m so sorry it took me this long to understand. I’m sorry—” the words caught in her throat, choking her, until pain shot through her chest, forcing her to let them out. “I never loved you the way I should have.

He’s lived the life he’s lived. He’s loved the woman he’s loved. No one ever has or ever will travel quite the same path on this earth, and that’s all right by him.

Love's bigger than rule books.

She says, "Were you love in him?" "Yes" I say, simply. After all that, was it so strange? I am no longer baffled, or amazed, or embarrassed by it. "Yes I was" It wasn't the whole truth. The whole truth is, I am in love with him still.

He struggles to make sense of it--all this love, so bent out of shape, refracted, like light through the lens.

Because you see..." He cradled Alec's face between his hands. "I'm in love with you, Alec. The kind of love that not only makes my balls ache, but that makes my chest so tight sometimes I think I can't breathe. The kind that makes my skin tingle and my heart pound and my knees weak whenever I'm around you. I'm deeply ... powerfully ... unequivocally in love with you.

We all have a voice. Some a whisper, some a roar. If you can roar, roar for others. If you can only whisper, keep trying. Every roar started small.

What are you thinking about?’ I said, ‘The same thing you’re thinking about.’ We didn’t even need to say your name.” She frowns down into the red pool of her wine. “It was just a kiss, but God, it hurt like hell.

He was the sort of actor everyone fell in love with as soon as he stepped onstage, and I was no exception.

Shakespeare is real, but his characters live in a world of real extremes. They swing from ecstasy to anguish, love to hate, wonder to terror. It’s not melodrama, though, they’re not exaggerating. Every moment is crucial.

Like one of those damned clapper lights. Love on. Love off. Robert musing about his parents love for him

I think he was enamored with you because you were so enamored with him.

Feed your soul; books, places, people, anything. That helps it grow.

You would have loved or hated him.” “What makes you say that?” “That’s how he was.” “What about you? Did you love him or hate him?” “Usually both at once.” “Is this what you mean about feeling everything twice?” “Ah,” I say. “You see, you do understand me.

It astounds him that the tiny life of the girl means more to him than all the millennia before it. He struggles to make sense of his emotions – how he can feel both tenderness and unease when she kisses him goodnight, or presents a grazed knee for him to kiss better with the magic power that only a parent has.For Isabel, too, he is torn between the desire he feels for her, the love, and the sense that he cannot breathe. The two sensations grate at one another, unresolved.

A mistake like that can be forgiven, but never forgotten.

She looked at me like I was crazy, but then—to my relief and my delight—she laughed, the sound wild and lovely, like a tiger lily bursting open.

It’s the same in Caesar. Brutus and Cassius assassinate Caesar and set themselves up for disaster.” “But they’re not villains, are they?” Wren asked. “Cassius maybe, but Brutus does what he does for the greater good of Rome.” “Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more,

It’s possible,” I say. “I never asked. He was my friend—much more than that, truthfully—and that was enough. I didn’t need to know why.

I leaned heavily on the balustrade, trembling under the weight of parallel truths that I had, until then, been able to ignore: James was in love with Wren, and I was blindly, savagely jealous.

I think he was enamored with you because you were so enamored with him.” (“Enamored.” I note that this is the word he chooses to use. It doesn’t feel quite right to me, but it’s not entirely wrong either.)

He looked at the picture of his mother in the locket. Perhaps each of his parents loved him, however brokenly. He felt a sudden urge of anger at his father's almost casual assumption of the right to separate him from his mother: so sincere, yet so destructive.

That strange possessive pride washed over me again. Everyone in the room was watching James—how could they not?—but I was the only one who really knew him, every inch.

Richard wasn't an easy person to like, But he was an easy person to love.

Maybe that was the ‘how’ Robin had been looking for, the simple magic by which she held herself together. Love for what she had and what was gone. Love no matter the pain.

Don’t give up. If you ever feel alone, know that you aren’t. You have people that care for you and that love you. And it’s okay to feel sad. There’s nothing wrong with you, just talk to someone. Seek help.

But it’s not always plain sailing, even when you’ve found the right girl. You’ve got to be in it for the long haul. You never know what’s going to happen: you sign up for whatever comes along. There’s no backing out.

He turned to go, and I darted around to bar his path again. My desire to keep him there had, at some point, transcended the alignment of an actor’s motivation and his character’s. I desperately wanted him to stay, seized by the nonsensical idea that if he left, I would lose him, irretrievably. “Tell me in sadness, who is that you love,” I said, searching the parts of his face I could see for a flicker of reciprocal feeling.

::I am yours, beloved. As you are mine. For all of eternity…::

What were we, then? In ten years I have not found an adequate word to describe us.

Yes, I was.” It’s not the whole truth. The whole truth is, I’m in love with him still.

Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, / Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

For someone who loved words as much as I did, it was amazing how much they failed me.

Be careful, big brother, she wanted to say then, be careful how hard you love what you know you can’t have, but that also was not her place.

The whole truth is, I'm in love with him still.

The only thing we can do is love that little girl as much as she deserves. And never, never hurt her!

Fight everyday for a better life.

Yeah, baby, I’m yours, and I wouldn’t have it any other way, love.

Were you in love with him?’ ‘Yes,’ I say, simply. James and I put each other through the kind of reckless passions Gwendolyn once talked about, joy and anger and desire and despair. After all that, was it really so strange? I am no longer baffled or amazed or embarrassed by it. ‘Yes, I was.’ It’s not the whole truth. The whole truth is, I’m in love with him still.

After all that, was it really so strange? I am no longer baffled or amazed or embarrassed by it. “Yes, I was.” It’s not the whole truth. The whole truth is, I’m in love with him still.

She turned away from the fire, and I was relieved not to find her frowning. Instead, she looked at me with a sad, stricken expression. I was seized by the strange unfounded idea that she was debating whether or not to say I love you. But the difference between us was that she assumed people just knew those sorts of things, while I was always worried that they didn’t.

James,” I said, with no idea what I meant to say after. He turned the water off, one hand lingering on the handle. A few tiny drops clung to his eyelashes, rolled down his face like tears. “What?” he said, slightly delayed.

I was seized by the strange unfounded idea that she was debating whether or not to say I love you. But the difference between us was that she assumed people just knew those sorts of things, while I was always worried that they didn’t.

He had seen so many deaths. But there was something about the quietness of this one: as though, in the absence of the gunfire and the shouting, he were observing it unobscured for the first time. The men he had accompanied to the border of life would be mourned by a mother, but on the battlefield, the loved ones were far away and beyond imagining. To see a child torn away from his mother at the very moment of birth—torn away from the only woman in the world Tom cared about—was a more dreadful kind of pain.

I was willing to go back to the old way if it was something Kimber was interested in. She deserved to have all of the love, support, and sex she wanted. If I couldn’t give it all to her, I was willing to tag Ren in. There wasn’t a limit to what I’d do for her.

Christine would fondly recall such moments, saying, “Every now and then, I have to chuckle as I realize there are people who actually believe ML [as Martin was sometimes called by his loved ones] just appeared. They think he simply happened, that he appeared fully formed, without context, ready to change the world. Take it from his big sister, that’s simply not the case. We are the products of a long line of activists and ministers. We come from a family of incredible men and women who served as leaders in their time and place, long before

You remember why you carry a gun and fight this fight. Not for yourself, but for something greater. You fight for your country, for your loved ones and their safety, and for honor. For something more than yourself. Because nothing makes a man greater than what he’s willing to do and sacrifice for the betterment of those he loves.

James was a fickle companion. Sometimes we lay on our opposite beds in companionable quiet. Sometimes he tossed and muttered in his sleep. Other nights, when he thought I was already dreaming, he slid out of bed, took his coat and shoes, and disappeared into the dark outside. I never asked where he went, worried he wouldn’t ask me to follow.

But what slayed Robert was that for all these years, all his adult life, he'd never believed in relationships and commitment. They were highly overrated as far as he was concerned. Some people's entire lives revolved around love...finding it, keeping it. People had written poetry about it, had sacrificed for it, had even died for it. And he'd never been able to understand why. Why would anyone want to invest themselves in such a fickle emotion that sounded too good to be true because it was too good to be true. When the going got tough, even when someone claimed to love and be committed to the people in their lives, they really only honored that commitment when things were good.

She says, “Were you in love with him?” “Yes,” I say, simply. James and I put each other through the kind of reckless passions Gwendolyn once talked about, joy and anger and desire and despair. After all that, was it really so strange? I am no longer baffled or amazed or embarrassed by it. “Yes, I was.” It’s not the whole truth. The whole truth is, I’m in love with him still.

I don’t know. I don’t know, Jess,” he said as a sob shuddered through him. “Because I am a damned fool. Fuck! I have everything I want right in front of me, I love you so damned much I can’t think straight, and then it’s like…I don’t know, like I’m so afraid of losing you, that I keep pushing you away so maybe I’ll stop caring as much and then it won’t hurt as bad if I do lose you. It’s so fucking twisted even I don’t understand it.

All these aspects of the anima have the same tendency that we have observed in the shadow: That is, they can be projected so that they appear to the man to be the qualities of some particular woman. It is the presence of the anima that causes a man to fall suddenly in love when he sees a woman for the first time and knows at once that this is "she." In this situation, the man feels as if he has known this woman intimately for all time; he falls for her so helplessly that it looks to outsiders like complete madness. Women who are of "fairy-like" character especially attract such anima projections, because men can attribute almost anything to a creature who is so fascinatingly vague, and can thus proceed to weave fantasies around her.

Difficult and subtle ethical problems are not invariably brought up by the appearance of the Shadow itself. Often another "inner figure" emerges. If the dreamer is a man, he will discover a female personification of the unconscious; and it will be a male figure in the case of a woman. Often this second symbolic figure turns up behind the shadow, bringing up new and different problems. Jung called its male and female forms "animus" and "anima." The anima is a personification of all feminine psychological tendencies in a man's psyche, such as vague feelings and moods, prophetic hunches, receptiveness to the irrational, capacity for personal love, feelings for nature, and-- last but not least-- his relation to the unconscious. It is no mere chance that in old times priestesses (like the Greek Sibyl) were used to fathom the divine will and to make connection with the gods.

favorite recipe is Carrie Brown’s Fig and Olive Tapenade, which she serves up at the Jimtown Store in Healdsburg, California. Her recipe uses dried figs, which means less pitting and cuts the saltiness of the tapenade. I like tapenade with pita bread points that have been brushed with spiced oil, then toasted until crisp (This Page). Ice-cold rosé or vin d’orange are lovely accompaniments, too. ½ cup (85 g) stemmed and quartered dried Black Mission figs 1 cup (250 ml) water 1 cup (170 g) black olives, rinsed and pitted 1 garlic clove,

I’ll give you all I got to give if you say you’ll love me too. I may not have a lot to give but what I got I’ll give to you. I don’t care too much for money, money can’t buy me love.” - Can’t Buy Me Love, Lennon - McCartney

Tis not the end of the world, Mr. Jonathan. Babes will be born, yer to be an uncle. Homes and marriages can be rebuilt if ye work hard enough. And love, hope, and faith are things ye can harvest all year long. If yer in the right mind to.

Ginger and lemon biscuits These biscuits are a twist on the traditional spiced Scandinavian Christmas biscuits, and were inspired by my love of honey, ginger and lemon tea – sweet, soothing, spicy and warming. They make a lovely gift and are easily made gluten-free by using rice flour or gluten-free flour. MAKES 20–30 125g salted butter, soft 125g caster sugar 1 medium egg 50ml golden syrup 50g crystallised ginger, chopped 1 tbsp freshly grated root ginger zest and juice of 1 lemon 200g plain flour 1 tsp baking powder ¼ tsp bicarbonate of soda You can use a food processor to make this dough or mix it by hand. Cream the butter and sugar together in a bowl until pale and fluffy. Mix the egg, golden syrup, crystallised ginger, grated ginger, lemon zest and juice together in another bowl or jug, and stir the flour and raising agents together in a third bowl. Alternate between adding wet and dry ingredients in stages, mixing as you go, until the dough comes together. Place in a smaller, clean bowl, cover with clingfilm and refrigerate for 1½–2 hours. Preheat the oven to 190°C/170°C fan/gas mark 5 and line two baking sheets with baking parchment. Use a teaspoon to place little dollops of biscuit mixture on a baking sheet, taking care to space them about 4–5cm apart, so they don’t all merge during baking. Bake on the upper middle shelf for 8–10 minutes and allow to cool on a wire rack. These keep well in an airtight container for up to a couple of weeks. If the stored biscuits start to go soft, reheat them on a wire rack at 150°C/130°C fan/gas mark 2 for 5–10 minutes, then allow to cool completely on the wire rack once out of the oven to crisp them back up. VARIATION Add 50g chopped pistachios in to the biscuit dough before chilling for a nutty version.

Be teachable. You’re not always right." (@ML_Philosophy) "The tombstone of capitalism will later say: too much was not enough." (Volker Pispers) "Smiling mobilizes 15 muscles, but sulking requires 40. Rest: smile!" (Christophe André) "Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. And today? Today is a gift that"s why they call it the present." - (@TheWordicle) "When you realize how precious and fragile life is, it changes your whole perspective." (Ryan O’Donnell) "A kind word can warm up to three months of winter" - Japanese proverb "It’s better to walk alone than with a crowd going in the wrong direction." (@wise_chimp) "The truth is not always beautiful, nor beautiful words the truth." - Lao Tzu "... We get old too soon, and wise too late." (@_AhmadHijazi) "Nothing in the world is worth turning away from what we love" - Albert Camus "I am allowed to say NO to others and YES to myself." (@Lenka49044040) "You can only live forwards, understand life only backwards." (Søren Kierkegaard) "Write your life - Or they'll wait till you're dead to write the lie" ... (@spectraspeaks)

Have you ever wanted anything so badly and then it almost lands right in your hands, only to be snatched away? That’s a bit how it felt when Shay told me that her parents thought she was my girlfriend. I had been in love with Shay MacNeil since the third grade. I know some people might laugh at that, being that we were kids but what I felt for her was real. And the older we got and the more we grew up the deeper I fell for her.

I'm neither right nor left, see Salvador Dali in this context - I'm only dali48 "The goal isn’t money, the goal is to spend your days as you wish." (@ML_Philosophy) “Give a child a good birth (if at all possible, no drugs to the mother)=1 and a good first three years, especially a good first three months, and a major part of the job of child rearing is done.” ― Arthur Janov, The Biology of Love

There is something called "The ML Veil" or "ML Wall at this stage in history." This veil or wall signifies a level in the code which humans cannot pass. The code becomes far too dense for humans to understand.

Once you fall in love with a book, it’s hard to separate it from the author.

While you were busy thinking it was impossible, I was busy inventing the possibility.

Christine would fondly recall such moments, saying, “Every now and then, I have to chuckle as I realize there are people who actually believe ML [as Martin was sometimes called by his loved ones] just appeared. They think he simply happened, that he appeared fully formed, without context, ready to change the world. Take it from his big sister, that’s simply not the case. We are the products of a long line of activists and ministers. We come from a family of incredible men and women who served as leaders in their time and place, long before ML was ever thought of.

each antique sold off to the highest bidder. For a few months, I had possessed them, lovingly working to establish each item’s value and historical importance.

were you in love with him?” “yes i was.” the whole truth is, im in love with him still.

hadn’t been back to Miller's Pointe since I was nineteen.

Kristen turns to me and sticks out her tongue. I half-lunge at her with an over-exaggerated bite, as if to remove it from her goofy face. “You bitch! You just bit off my tongue!” I pretend to spit it out and reply, “Gross! It tastes like underage cock!” “I'll have you know that Jeff's cock is perfectly legal.” “Yeah... Now it is!” We both laugh. I love joking around with Kristen. She likes her boys young – the exact opposite of me. While she gets turned on by innocence and immaturity, I find age and experience to be much more attractive. Though I've never been with one, I think older men are where it's at.

I love women like Chanel. She's really hot, no doubt. I don't think a single guy – or girl for that matter – in this class would argue otherwise. Her look is sexually provocative, leaving little to the imagination. And Chanel knows how to move, how to use her voice seductively. She's the type of girl that most guys fantasize about. But I don't love women like her because of any of those things. I love them because the second they open their mouths, my dick goes soft and I lose interest immediately. To put it simply: the girl's a bitch. There's no bigger turn of for a guy like me. And that's why I love girls like Chanel: Because no matter how hard they may try, their bitchiness always comes out sooner rather than later. And that removes any temptation, present or future, to even think about doing anything inappropriate with her.

The men he had accompanied to the border of life would be mourned by a mother, but on the battlefield, the loved ones were far away and beyond imagining. To see a child torn away form his mother at the very moment of birth - torn away from the only woman in the world Tom cared about - was a more dreadful kind of pain.

Love for what she had and what was gone. Love no matter the pain.

Knowing you're enough is half the battle.

I really love being able to make a big pot of hearty soup for dinner. It’s a time-saver and the cleanup is always easier. This corn chowder is one of my family’s favorites. The East and West Coasts have their seafood chowders, but we prairie folk raise a lot of corn. No prairie cookbook would be complete without a corn chowder recipe. Serves 4 8 ears fresh corn, shucked 8 slices bacon, chopped ¼ cup (½ stick/55 g) unsalted butter 4 cloves garlic, finely chopped 2 ribs celery, finely chopped 1 yellow onion, finely chopped 1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh thyme 1 fresh or dried bay leaf 6 cups (1.4 L) milk 3 new potatoes (about 1½ pounds/680 g), peeled and cut into ½-inch (12-mm) cubes Salt and freshly ground black pepper ¼ cup (7 g) thinly sliced fresh basil or 4 sprigs thyme, for serving • Working over a large shallow bowl, slice the corn kernels off the cobs, scraping the cobs with the knife to extract the flavorful juices. Halve 5 of the bare corncobs crosswise, discarding the rest. Set the corn and cobs aside. • Cook the bacon in a large pot over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until crisp, about 12 minutes. Reserve 3 tablespoons of the bacon for garnish, leaving the remaining bacon in the pot. Add the butter, garlic, celery, onion, thyme, and bay leaf. Cover the pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion softens, about 6 minutes. Add the reserved corn kernels and cobs, the milk, and potatoes. Cover, bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the potatoes are tender, about 25 minutes. • Skim any foam from the surface of the soup. Discard the cobs and bay leaf. Transfer 1½ cups (360 ml) of the soup to a blender and puree. Stir the puree back into the chowder to thicken it. Season with salt and pepper and serve garnished with the basil or thyme and the reserved bacon.

You may be a poet and not even know it.

You can, you will. You did.

In a world, you prefer to live in, A world, you would prefer to stay, and thrive in, A place which can be all your own and enjoy every minute, A world you can love, with no restraints and rules. A world you can be - you

Cocktail là toàn cầu cực kỳ đa dạng mẫu mã, sinh động cùng rất rất một số loại thức uống đầy Màu sắc, từ cách pha chế cho đến tên gọi phần nhiều dẫn đến sự yêu thích đối cùng rất tất cả. Nhắc mang đến cocktail bên cạnh các cái tên “nổi đình nổi đám” cũng như Sexy Girl, Pina Colada, Margarita, Martini, blue Hawaii, I Love U, Kamikaze,… thì giới sành cocktail cạnh tranh Rất có thể bỏ lỡ loại cocktail “bom tấn” B52. chúng ta nghe B52 xuất hiện quen không? Đây chính là tên của một một số loại máy bay ném bom tầm xa của Mỹ, thể hiện khí công của loại cocktail này “không nên dạn vừa” đâu. B52 hay Bifi phần nhiều là tên gọi chỉ một số loại cocktail phân tầng đẹp mắt bao gồm một phần rượu hương cà phê, 1 phần rượu Baileys Irish Cream với một phần rượu hương cam Grand Marnier. B52 là nhiều loại cocktail lời yêu cầu công nghệ cùng tay nghề của Bartender yêu cầu cứng để Rất có thể tạo ra 1 cốc cocktail đẹp mắt, cùng rất hương vì chưng bùng nổ. cơ mà chúng ta sẽ Rất có thể làm cho tại nơi bạn ở nhà bạn cùng với các chia sẻ trong bài xích sau đây. Chỉ cần chuyên chú một ít, chúng ta có thể pha chế ra 1 cốc cocktail B52 với thừa nhận ấn cá nhân rõ rệt. Hãy cùng tham khảo và chơi ngay nhé, đảm bảo ban đang vô cũng thích thú với ly cocktail thành phẩm đấy. Nguyên liệu: 10ml rượu hương cafe (Tia Maria hoặc Kahlúa. Cơ mà chuyên sử dụng rượu Kahlúa). 10ml rượu Baileys Irish Cream. 10ml rượu hương cam Le Grand Marnier. cốc Shooter hoặc cốc Sherry. Thìa (đã được có tác dụng lạnh). công thức B52: Bước 1: ban đầu chúng ta rót phần rượu hương cà phê Kahlúa vào dưới đáy ly, thành lập tầng bước đầu. Bước 2: Tiếp cho là rót thật lờ đờ rượu Baileys Irish Cream vào ẩn dưới 1 chiếc thìa nhỏ dại và được làm cho lạnh, chuyển thìa này lại gần ly, tránh làm lẫn lộn với loại rượu rót trước. Cách 3: phương pháp rót Grand Marnier cũng tương tự. Khi rót bạn nên nghiêng cốc một góc chặng 45o. Nếu cũng như thành phẩm là một ly cocktail B52 phân làm 3 tầng nâu, trắng, kim cương thì xem cũng như chúng ta đã thành tích. Về phần chiêm ngưỡng một số loại cocktail này Rất có thể chia thành 2 “trường phái”, nếu như phương Tây chỉ là uống khan đã từng lớp, khuấy lên rồi uống cùng với đá, thì người Á Lục biết cách thưởng thức lâu công hơn, chúng ta đốt lửa trên bề mặt của cocktail mang đến nóng, dừng ống hút để uống hết trong 1 hơi. nhưng lại, để đối B52 bạn phải cụ Grand Marnier bởi các loại rượu có độ rượu cồn cao hơn. Bài toán đốt rượu này cũng tiềm ẩn các bất trắc cho nên lời khuyên là nếu cũng như các bạn còn thiếu gan hay new làm lần đầu không nên thử để tránh cháy và nổ bên cạnh mong nhé. cũng tương tự như nhiều loại cocktail khác, sau thời gian đều chung sự biến dạng để thêm sinh rượu cồn, phong phú. Bạn có thể đột phá hương vì bằng phương pháp cộng thêm nhiều loại rượu nhưng người thân đắm đuối như Vodka – B53, thêm Amaretto – B54, bổ sung Absinthe có ngay B55.

You’re never too old to create the world to escape in, The world to fight for what you want, Learn to love and be loved And succeed in what you do.   The world, only you can conquer and rule.

Try not to judge others. Because someone might have gone through something that you wouldn't have survived if it happened to you.

Makes 4 to 6 servings 6 tablespoons (90 g) margarine or butter, melted About 11/2 cups (375 ml) buttermilk 11/2 cups (200 g) all-purpose flour 2 teaspoons (10 g) coarse salt 1 teaspoon (5 g) ground black pepper 1 cup (125 g) crushed cornflakes 1/2 teaspoon (2.5 ml) poultry seasoning, or dried thyme and/or sage One 31/2-pound chicken, cut into 8 to 10 pieces (about 1.5 kg) 1 tablespoon (8 g) paprika, for dusting Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Using about 2 tablespoons (30 ml) of the margarine, coat the bottom of a roasting pan or a baking dish large enough to hold the chicken pieces in one layer without touching. Place the buttermilk in a shallow bowl or dish. In another bowl, mix the flour, salt, pepper, cornflakes, and poultry seasoning. Dip each chicken piece into the buttermilk. Shake off the excess and roll in the flour mixture to coat. Place the chicken pieces in the prepared roasting pan, skin side up. Drizzle the rest of the margarine evenly over the chicken. Dust the chicken liberally with paprika. Put the roasting pan on the middle rack of the oven, uncovered. Bake for about 1 hour, until the chicken is golden and cooked through. (Small pieces may be done at 45 minutes, so check.) To confirm, push an instant-read thermometer into a meaty section; it should register at least 165°F (74°C). Serve warm. Leftovers reheat nicely in a toaster oven. CHAPTER 2 The Farm on Coldwater Road

What to read next? Hm…well, if you want more Carrie Jo, check out the Idlewood books. She’s at a new house, and there are heartbreaking child ghosts that need her help, but be warned, you’ll love them too. Most of them, anyway. I have also completed a historical fiction series about Queen Nefertiti. It’s called the Desert Queen series, and I’m very happy with it. If you fancy a bit of adventure in ancient Egypt, check it out. The first book in that series, The Tale of Nefret, is on Kindle. I also have a spooky plantation series called Sugar Hill. There are five books in that one: The Wife of the Left Hand, The Ramparts, and Blood by Candlelight, The Starlight Ball, and His Lovely Garden. I can’t wait to introduce you to the Dufresne family and take you through their plantation, Sugar Hill. Like Seven Sisters, the series will be chock-full of Southern folklore and historical places. Sugar Hill is like Gone With the Wind, but with ghosts! Thanks again for staying with me through this series. I appreciate all your kind words, the reviews, and the emails. Don’t forget to sign up for my mailing list or follow me on Amazon or BookBub so you can get the newest release information right in your inbox. I’ve got a website too that I visit infrequently. Check it out. See y’all soon. M.L. Bullock Christmas at Seven Sisters Three Short Stories from the Seven Sisters Series By M.L.

Writing a novel takes creativity. Publishing it takes courage

Life can be short and it’s meant to be cherished and treasured—every second, every moment. Now, I’ll love harder. I’ll love fiercer. And I will not be afraid.

I’d be a f*ckin’ fool to walk away from you just because some things aren’t perfect. Perfect is overrated, if you ask me. I’d rather be f*cked up with you than not have you in my life at all.

I’ve seen and done things that will give you nightmares, but only you, Julia, only you have the power to bring me to my knees.

Tell me that you’re happy with your life that you don’t crave my touch, my kisses, the way I used to whisper in your ear. Tell me that when you see me, your heart doesn’t race, that butterflies don’t flutter in your stomach, that the moment you see me, your world isn’t right. Because every time I see you, everything is right in my world. I crave you, I need you, and I’ll die proving to you that I’m a man that deserves you. When things went to hell for me, you were the only thing that kept me alive. Your memory kept me sane and has driven me to become a man. This time, Julia, I’m not letting you walk away and I’ll fight for us. Even if I have to fight for the both of us, I’ll fight till my dying breath to show you I deserve you.

Concepción has a new recipe for patatas pobres; R loved it and even E ate some: 1 kilo potatoes 100 ml. oil 10 peppercorns 2 cloves garlic ¼ teaspoon cumin ½ teaspoon paprika 50 ml. water 1 teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon vinegar Slice and fry the potatoes, mash the spices together and dissolve in water, add to the potatoes with the salt and vinegar. Cook until ready. Very simple and delicious.

Anahi and Eddie, you are my moon and my star, and your mother is my sun. Together, you make my world. I love you.” -Gabe

And in that instant, the walls stopped caving in on him. The crushing pressure leaped off his chest. The broken pieces of his soul fell away and drowned in a mighty, crashing peace. He let it roll over him again and again, filling him like a well, like the sunrise, like the rain, like a new bird realizing its wings, and knew intuitively that all the love and solace he had experienced until now was nothing more than a wisp of a half-forgotten dream in some realm not nearly as real as this one.

Gathering the boy into her arms, she held him tight, and loved him, loved him as hard as she could, and hoped it would be enough to wash everything else away. Hiroshi, as always, was cold.