Mojo Quotes

Is this the part where you tell me you're secretly in love with me? Vampire mojo strikes again.

I was following you.' - Jace 'Is this the part where you tell me you're secretly in love with me? Vampire mojo strikes again.' - Simon

Theres no such thing as vampire mojo,"said Jace,rather eeirly echoing Clarys earlier comment."And I was following Clary,but then she got into a cab,and I cant follow a cab.So I doubled back and followed you instead.Mostly for something to do" "You were following Clary?"Simon echoed."Heres a hot tip : Most girls dont like being stalked

Seven years, Dawn. Working with the Slayer. Seeing my friends get more and more powerful... a witch. A demon. Hell, I could fit Oz in my shaving kit, but come a full moon, he had a wolfy mojo not to be messed with. Powerful, all of them. And I'm the guy who fixes the windows. They'll never know how tough it is, Dawnie, to be the one who isn't Chosen, to live so near the spotlight and never step in it. But I know. I see more than anybody realizes because nobody's watching me. I saw you last night, and I see you working here today. You're not special; you're extraordinary.

I can't believe you're going to sacrifice your archery mojo for MacReive." Lucia would forfeit her fantastical skill with a bow if she was unchaste. "Who am I going to hang out with when your a talentless nobody?

He laughs. "Put some clothes on so you don't scare poor Kiara with your morning hard-on." I look down at my shorts. Sure enough, I've got la tengo dura in front of Kiara and Tuck. Shit. I reach out for the first thing I can grab and put it in front of me to shield myself from view. It happens to be one of Kiara's stuffed animals, but I don't have much choice right now. "That's Kiara's Mojo," Tuck says, laughing. "Get it? Mojo?

Sorin said they came to him and begged him to take them out for a girls' night. Something about getting Jen and Sally hooked up with – I think they used the words 'hot Romanian mojo', or some non-sense.” Vasile rolled his eyes. “You know how those three talk. It's like a foreign language all on its own.

Work that mojo, gray girl. Consider me a true believer now. Hallelujah.

Mojo” is, “That positive spirit toward what we are doing now, that starts from the inside and radiates to the outside

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re perfect for each other! You irritate people, and he smooths things out. You have good mojo, and he only thinks he does. You’re broke, and he’s rich. You’ve got those weird feet of yours, and he’s got them cute ears.

I moved quickly, putting myself between the two of them. "Stop it!" I shouted. "I have way too much to worry about right now to also have to pull you two off each other. Jeesh, talk about immature." Both guys kept glaring at each other over my head. "I said, stop it!" And I smacked their chests. That made them blink and shift their attention to me. Now it was my turn to do the glaring. "You know, you two are ridiculous with your puffing up and your testosterone and crap. I mean, I could summon the elements and kick both of your butts." Heath shuffled his feet and looked embarrassed. Then he grinned at me, like a cute little boy whose mommy had just yelled at him. "Sorry, Zo. I forget you have some major mojo going on.

One of the few times I’ve ever wished for a penis,” she said to Rae when the bartender stepped up to take the order of yet another male customer. They’d been waiting to be served for over twenty minutes. She’d even worn the red magic boob dress tonight, but unfortunately, its mojo offered no help in this particular situation. “You haven’t had sex in six months,” Rae said. “If I were you, I’d be wishing for penises every night.

Wildlife mojo?” Copper queried with dry amusement, taking another sip of the excellent champagne. “Oh, excuse me, Feral Forest Queen, do you have a special name for what you do? Does it have mud anywhere in the title?

Get your ass back on the tree, Jayne, I just lost the mojo.

It makes me sad, sad inside, to see a warrior without his pride.

I like ambition. I like someone who gets up in the morning and has a purpose. A real purpose. I have one. I want whoever I love to have one." "I always look forward to breakfast.

He was wearing a little bag of “Mojo” around his neck.

Some people were like rubber bands--willing to stretch but eager to snap back into place at the first opportunity.

Aren't you embarrassed undressing in front of a queer?" Leonard said. "All you know, I might be sizing up your butthole." "Just call me a tease.

There's no one more obnoxious and self-righteous than the self-made man. And no one more admirable.

Grace Murphy, defender of the downtrodden! Snarking one villain at a time with her acerbic wit and pointy boobs! If there was going to be super-natural mojo involved in my life, the least I could ask for was non-sagging boobs.

Not everything has to be done with herbs and oils. In fact, when it comes to any kind of business-related magic, I much prefer a consecrated metal talisman or paper seal hidden away, rather than a bulky bag that smells like a hippie is hiding in my pocket.

There are a lot of things in the world that are unexplainable - love at first sight, vegetable pizza, and potpourri, for instance. But I doubt your ex's murder is one of them.

Fils de putain

Are you kidding me?You come here and use your stupid faerie mojo and then you back away from me? Is there anything in your golden head that makes sense? What,you thought, hey, Evie's probably having a bad night, why don't I go mess with her? While you're at it, there are probably some puppies you could kick!" I whipped around, stalking back to the diner.I should have known-had known-this was a bad idea.Idiot Evie.

You want to know what I'm wearing?" "Not unless you think it'll really get me excited." "I'm afraid clothes have to have women in them for you to get excited." "Maybe you could talk in a high voice." "Cut through the shit, Hap.

Most of us want to be authentic. Yet, we are not who we think we are. We are made up of a rich array of facets and possibilities, many of which we ignore because we label them as “bad”. We create a cardboard cutout image of ourselves to look good to others. The discord between who we are and the image we have to live up to slowly kills our aliveness. When we suppress parts of ourselves, it lowers our mojo, sense of fulfillment, leadership effectiveness and impact in the workplace.

Logan nodded to confirm. "He's lost his mojo." "It's not lost," Charlie said, rapping on his sternum with his knuckles. "I just can't find it." "Yeah," Logan said. "That's what 'lost' means." "Right," Charlie said, "I was thinking of the 'dead' meaning of 'lost'. Like, 'lost at sea' or 'I'm sorry for your loss'." Logan shook his head and said, "Writers.

If you put off your dreams today, you create the momentum to put the off all the way to you deathbed.

You're brooding, Leonard, my friend. What's the problem?" "I blew it with Fitzgerald." "I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit. It was more like a nuclear disaster.

Improvement is hard. If it were easy, we’d already be better.

Tis not what you crave that feeds your soul... Tis my sunshine right after the rain When my ravishing rays unfold.

It's not only how much money you make. It's what you do with it that determines your financial condition.

We are participants in a relationship and have the opportunity to help guide our companions into their brightest light.

An artist is by definition a menace to conformity.

So it was that neither for the first time nor the last my verbal mojo, my knack for the written word, served to save my reckless ass.

Mojo is that positive spirit toward what we are doing now that starts from the inside and radiates to the outside.

If you have the bad MOJO of a situation or a person riding you down you must first remove that saddle.

I stared harder. Come on, vampire mojo. Do your thing. "Don't. Kill. Yourself." "Why. Are you. Talking. Like this?

Don’t look elsewhere. Look inside your dreams, and there you’ll find your mojo and muse.

I’d driven past this old gas station all my life and had mourned as the vegetation took it over and began to pull it down over the past few years. I knew, though, that no one in our rural mountain county was going to buy the place, not after someone had been murdered there twenty years ago. A single gas pump on a country road wasn’t enough incentive to take on that bad mojo.

Robert Farris Thompson, America’s most prominent historian of African art, says that funky is derived from the Ki-Kongo lu-fuki, meaning “positive sweat” of the sort you get from dancing or having sex, but not working. One’s mojo, which has to be “working” to attract a lover, is Ki-Kongo for “soul.” Boogie comes from mbugi, meaning “devilishly good.” And both jazz and jism likely derive from dinza, the Ki-Kongo word for “to ejaculate.

When Michael Crichton approached the end of a novel (so I’ve read), he used to start getting up earlier and earlier in the morning. He was desperate to keep his mojo going. He’d get up at six, then five, then three-thirty and two-thirty, till he was driving his wife insane. Finally he had to move out of the house. He checked into a hotel (the Kona Village, which ain’t so bad) and worked around the clock till he’d finished the book. Michael Crichton was a pro. He knew that Resistance was strongest at the finish. He

It’s not that I think you’re gonna knock me up with little, uh, trapdoors, or something, it’s that I only trust lysol so much and doorknobs are kinda germ magnets. No offense. Hopefully that doesn’t fuck with the mojo but I don’t need to explain a UTI from this.

Once upon a time, we were Africans involved in a unique lexicon of beliefs, lore, stories, and customs that were designed to help integrate us into an environment filled with plants, animals, elements, and a complex array of spirits. With the advent of slavery, the physical bond with the motherland was broken, but like seeds lifted from a ripe plant by wind, we found fertile ground in distant lands elsewhere.

Come on, sweetheart. I’m letting you do this. Do it.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “Listen, I know it’s easier when they’re not fucking looking at you.” Beckett turned and faced the wall. “I don’t know who hired you, but can I ask you for something?” He talked at the wall. Here comes the fast-talking, the mojo, the shout to his employees. “Could you make sure Cole doesn’t take credit for his handiwork last night? And can you follow up on that Chris guy?” Beckett turned his head a bit, listening for her answer. He still trusts me. He still trusts me with his brothers. I can’t do it.

Lou loved watching Al savor every bite. She mentally vowed to make him an amazing meal just to see him enjoy it. Maybe her Cuban pork with black beans and cilantro rice. That was a great summer feast- complete with mojitos and mojo sauce. If he savored a burger with such fervor, she he'd swoon over her cooking.

Compañera, cuando amábamos (for Juanita Ramos and other spik dykes) ¿Volverán, campañera, esas tardes sordas Cuando nos amábamos tiradas en las sombras bajo otoño? Mis ojos clavados en tu mirada Tu mirada que siempre retiraba al mundo Esas tardes cuando nos acostábamos en las nubes Mano en mano nos paseábamos por las calles Entre niños jugando handball Vendedores y sus sabores de carne chamuzcada. La gente mirando nuestras manos Nos pescaban los ojos y se sonreían cómplices en este asunto del aire suave. En un café u otro nos sentábamos bien cerquita. Nos gustaba todo: las bodegas tiznadas La música de Silvio, el ruido de los trenes Y habichuelas. Compañera, ¿Volverán esas tardes sordas cuando nos amábamos? ¿Te acuerdas cuando te decía ¡tócame!? ¿Cuándo ilesa carne buscaba carne y dientes labios En los laberintos de tus bocas? Esas tardes, islas no descubiertas Cuando caminábamos hasta la orilla. Mis dedos lentos andaban las lomas de tus pechos, Recorriendo la llanura de tu espalda Tus moras hinchándose en mi boca La cueva mojada y racima. Tu corazón en mi lengua hasta en mis sueños. Dos pescadoras nadando en los mares Buscando esa perla. ¿No te acuerdas como nos amábamos, compañera? ¿Volverán esas tardes cuando vacilábamos Pasos largos, manos entrelazadas en la playa? Las gaviotas y las brizas Dos manfloras vagas en una isla de mutua melodía. Tus tiernas palmas y los planetas que se caián. Esas tardes tiñadas de mojo Cuando nos entregábamos a las olas Cuando nos tirábamos En el zacate del parque Dos cuerpos de mujer bajo los árboles Mirando los barcos cruzando el río Tus pestañas barriendo mi cara Dormitando, oliendo tu piel de amapola. Dos extranjeras al borde del abismo Yo caía descabellada encima de tu cuerpo Sobre las lunas llenas de tus pechos Esas tardes cuando se mecía el mundo con mi resuello Dos mujeres que hacían una sola sombra bailarina Esas tardes andábamos hasta que las lámparas Se prendían en las avenidas. ¿Volverán, Compañera, esas tardes  cuando nos amábanos?

Do you think Archer is right about everyone here being de-magicked? Or maybe the fog, like, made his and Evan’s magic…de-magic.” Crossing over to the closet, I sighed and said, “I’m betting the kids here are de-magicked, but it doesn’t really matter.” I flung open the closet. Just as I’d thought, the only things hung up inside where Hex Hall uniforms. “I’m pretty much de-magicked myself these days,” I said to Jenna over my shoulder. “Also, maybe we should stop saying de-magicked. It’s starting to sound weird.” She sat up straighter. “What?” “You know, when you say things too much, and-“ “Sophie,” Jenna said, tilting her head and frowning at me. Sighing, I sat down on my own bed, facing her. “Thanks to some mojo from the Council, I’m currently powerless.” Her expression softening, Jenna breathed, “Oh, Soph. I’m so sorry.” “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” I told her. “My powers aren’t gone gone. They’re still bumping around in here, but I can’t use them unless I touch this particular-whoa.” “What?” I crossed the room to grip the footboard of Jenna’s bed. “There’s this spell in the Throne family grimoire. If I touch it, my powers will be restored. And Dad was sure the Casnoffs had the grimoire. It might be here, Jenna.” I let go of her bed to pace as my magic pounded inside me. “If we find it, I could be demoning up the place by dinnertime.

Either Kyle was lucky or his mojo had bowled over the headwaiter, because he and Deborah were waiting outside at one of these tables working on a bottle of mineral water and a plate of what appeared to be crab cakes. I grabbed one and took a bite as I slid into a chair facing Kyle. “Yummy,” I said. “This must be where good crabs go when they die.

Vivienne, one of these days, you are going to fall in love,” she says softly, and it’s my turn to gasp “That is the most hateful thing you have ever said to me, and now you’ve put that into the universe.” I put my hands up, shaking. “It’s like bad mojo.” “You mean karma,” she corrects me. “Whatever you want to call it,” I snap at her. “Take it back.

You're the one with the badge," I admitted, "but I'm the one being haunted by a seven-year-old in a ballerina costume.

Once you know what you want in life... Like a magnet you attract the resources necessary to manifest the world you desire.

When it comes to money, ignorance is NOT bliss. What you don't know CAN hurt you.

The most reliable predictor of what you will be doing five minutes from now is what you are doing now.

Each day dawns with the promise of a personal miracle. Find some magic today. Even just a little bit can go a very long way.

Five qualities that you need to bring to an activity in order to do it well are: motivation, knowledge, ability, confidence, and authenticity.

Failure is the breeding ground of innovation. How so, you say? Consider Thomas Edison's approach to failure: 'I have not failed, I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.

Chloe's fingers flew over her keyboard. I raised an eyebrow at Hunter. "Is she Googling hunter-assholes? I doubt they have their own Web page." Chloe snorted. "You'd be surprised." "She's hacking the school files," Hunter said. "She does it all the time." "Don't they have security for that kind of thing?" Chloe snorted again. "Please." I knew that tone. Connor used it whenever someone called his computer mojo into question.

I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere between our first kiss and that first fuck, I came to the conclusion that Hailey needs sex. Good sex. And lots of it. I’ve caught glimpses of her steel, her confidence, her sexiness, usually in our online exchanges. But in person, it’s like she’s second-guessing herself all the time. The poor girl needs to get her mojo back, and I’ve decided I’m the man for the job. Just call me Matt the mojo maker.

Techno emerged in the early to mideighties in and around Detroit, at the hands of black middle-class DJs who for some reason idealized the glamour and suavity of European electronic pop and Italo disco, as it reached them via GQ and the radio DJ who called himself the Electrifying Mojo. They brought some rigor and a hint of Motown to it and created an industrial-sounding music that was funky, futuristic, and kind of arch—evoking the auto plants that were putting these kids’ parents out of work.

I decided, was to look at the common threads among the companies I’d already identified as having mojo. First, I could see that, unlike most entrepreneurs, their founders and leaders had recognized the full range of choices they had about the type of company they could create. They hadn’t accepted the standard menu of options as a given. They had allowed themselves to question the usual definitions of success in business and to imagine possibilities other than the ones all of us are familiar with.

These fucks next door. I got no problems with them yet, but I feel one brewing, way they watch me. They’re biding their time. I’d like to have you at my back, and there’s always the chance they’ll get you first, instead of me. I like the idea of a buffer.

Hap, even tough I'm a racist castrating bitch that wants you to be better than you are, wants you to do something with your life besides be a knockabout, do you think you could find it in your heart, in your itty-bitty white man's dick, to get a hard-on for me? In other words, want to fuck?

Putting my hands on my hips, I sighed. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to Unseelie territory, and you’re all going to protect me with whatever faerie mojo you have, because I’m pretty sure the Dark Queen will not be very excited to see me. And then I’m going to talk to them.” “Talk to them?” the Light Queen asked. “Yes,” I said, trying to compose a poem on her beauty comparing her to the light of the dawn, to the rays of sunlight piercing clouds after a thunderstorm, to . . . Evelyn. I shook my head, trying to clear it. “Gosh, can’t you at least try to turn it down? Anyway. We’re going to talk to them. If they’re anything like your court, a lot of them probably think their queen is a freaking idiot.” The Light Queen’s side, white eyebrows rose like a question mark.

performance during PMS: Take 250 milligrams of magnesium, 45 milligrams of zinc, 80 milligrams of aspirin (baby aspirin), and 1 gram of omega-3 fatty acids (flaxseed and fish oil) each night for the 7 days before your period starts. Pretraining: Take 5 to 7 grams of branched-chain amino acid supplement (BCAAs) to fight the lack of mojo. These amino acids cross the blood-brain barrier and decrease the estrogen-progesterone effect on central nervous system fatigue. In training: Consume a few more carbohydrates per hour. In this high-hormone phase, aim for about 0.45 gram of carbohydrate per pound of body weight (about 61 grams for a 135-pound woman) per hour. In the low-hormone phase (first 2 weeks of the cycle), you can go a bit lower—about 0.35 gram of carbohydrate per pound of body weight (about 47 grams for a 135-pound woman) per hour. (For reference: 2.2 kilograms = 1 pound.) Post-training: Recovery is critical. Progesterone is extremely catabolic (breaks muscle down) and inhibits recovery. Aim to consume 20 to 25 grams of protein within 30 minutes of finishing your session. Overall you should aim to get 0.9 to 1 gram of protein per pound per day (a 135-pound woman needs about 122 to 135 grams of protein per day; see the Roar Daily Diet Cheat Sheet for Athletes for more information). THE MARTIAL ARTIST WHO BEAT HER BLOAT It may not be nice to fool Mother Nature, but there are definitely times when you need to trick her a little.

Cade quickly checked his cell phone. Of course Vaughn, with his FBI superpowers of perception, had to comment. “Got another offer on the table that expires soon?” he asked. “Go away.” Vaughn grinned. “You’re quite circumspect about this situation with Brooke. I find that very intriguing, don’t you, Hux?” No reply. “Hux?” Vaughn looked to his right, where Huxley was reading something on his phone. With an unmistakable smile, he tucked his phone into the pocket of his impeccably tailored Ralph Lauren suit, and then noticed Cade and Vaughn looking at him. “Sorry. What were we talking about?” “Just giving Cade crap about a certain sexy general counsel. But never mind that.” Vaughn pointed suspiciously. “What’s going on here, with the phone and the sneaky smile?” He studied his partner. “Don’t tell me you actually have a hot date tonight.” “Okay, I won’t tell you.” Huxley took a sip of his beer, deliberately leaving them hanging. “Look at you,” Cade said. “With who?” “Addison.” “Addison? Who’s—” It took Vaughn a second, then his mouth fell open. “Agent Simms? When did this happen?” Huxley swirled his glass, looking quite coy. “Things have been percolating for a while. But they shifted into high gear after our fake date at Sogna.” Vaughn threw out his hands in exasperation. “First Morgan, now you. Plus McCall’s getting married next month, and Pallas is having a kid. Purposely. Am I the only one not getting laid as part of an FBI sting operation?” Huxley pretended to muse over this. “Maybe you should take some time. Figure out what’s gone wrong with your mojo these days.” “My mojo is perfectly fine,” Vaughn assured him. Cade was curious. “Is it serious?” Huxley smiled. “Yeah. I think so.” Vaughn scoffed at this. “Come on. You’ve only been seeing her for, what, a month?” Huxley shrugged. “I like her. She likes me. It’s not that complicated.” Cade and Vaughn threw each other looks. Right. “Amateur,” Vaughn said, with a conspiratorial grin. “Amateur, huh? I’ll be sure to ask Addison tonight if she agrees with that assessment.” And if his confident smile was any indication, Agent Seth Huxley wasn’t worried about the answer to that one bit.

That evil mojo thing was in my pocket, though, wasn’t it?” she demanded. If it hadn’t been, she was just plain-and-simple cursed.

Grand theft mojo.

He followed the Denver teams, and was an avid Rockies fan. He thought baseball was a smart game, played more or less according to rules. Football, by contrast, seemed like chaos, with victory often being decided by penalties for breaking rules that were subjective and poorly administered. It was as if the government was in charge of football, with all of its bickering and clowning, while baseball was run by the best fourth-grade teacher you ever had, the one who ensured that everyone played by the rules or not at all, and if you weren’t polite, there were consequences. He wasn’t sure where basketball fit in.

hanging the function’s value proposition entirely on its financial impacts risks exacerbating the myopic view of Procurement as a ‘cost savings’ function. We must think beyond the numbers – issues like supply risks, supply base alignment and corporate social responsibility (CSR) can rarely be adequately encapsulated by numbers alone. These are all issues in which Procurement has a lead responsibility.

And after all that’s been discussed so far, it should make perfect sense by now that your cat is not a vegan. No, cats are obligate carnivores: their digestive system is designed, specifically and exclusively, to process meat.

The type of cells that cats have (Merkel cells) are ultrasensitive, more like those on your fingertips. Even their hair follicles are innervated, so having hairs out of place can be irritating for a cat.

Cats pick up a small amount of food and give a quick “shake” of the head. This is another ancestral behavior that helps loosen meat from bones, and removes feathers from a bird’s body.

Cats’ source of Mojo is unquestioned ownership of their territory and having an important job to do within that territory. That job is a biological imperative that cats inherited from their wildcat ancestors, and I call it: Hunt, Catch, Kill, Eat, Groom, Sleep.

Amazon appeals to our hunter-gatherer instinct to collect more stuff with minimum effort. We have serious mojo for stuff, as survival went to the caveman who had the most twigs, had the right rocks to crack stuff open with, and got the most colorful mud to draw images on walls so his descendants knew when to plant crops, or what dangerous animals to avoid.

The show’s host assumed I was going to be an ironic slacker wise-ass and said, “I guess you must think this whole mall is kind of hokey and trashy,” and I said, “No such thing.” He was surprised. “What do you mean?” “I mean that I feel like I’m in another era that we thought had vanished, but it really hasn’t, not yet. I think we might one day look back on photos of today and think to ourselves, ‘You know, those people were living in golden times and they didn’t even know it. Communism was dead, the economy was good and the future, with all of its accompanying technologies, hadn’t crushed society’s mojo like a bug.’ ” Silence. It’s true: Technology hadn’t yet hollowed out the middle class and turned us into laptop click junkies, and there were no new bogeymen hiding in the closet. We may well look back at the 1990s as the last good decade

Stop moping and think of a solution. A voice in his head told him. If you want to find your mojo again, then get on with it and stop wallowing in self-pity. This voice spoke the harsh truth. He needed to man-up. Nodding, Mortimer set his face in a line of steely determination, created a pile of papers and began to draft down possible ideas. Mass suicide? Too messy. Global war? Too soon. Revenge cult? Too predictable. NO.

Peak: How Great Companies Get Their Mojo from Maslow.

They devoted themselves to their training till each proudly earned a degree. Three pigs full of mojo then ran their own dojo, and life was forever wolf-free.

mojo (moyo, a Kikongo word meaning something like “soul force”).

After decades of observing athletes and their habits, Martin has concluded that most popular recovery modalities work by exploiting the placebo effect. But he doesn’t see that as a reason to dismiss them. On the contrary, he views it as an opportunity. This is real mojo, and instead of calling it the placebo effect he prefers the terms “anticipatory response” or “belief effects.” He uses these alternative names, because people tend to dismiss the word placebo as a synonym for ineffective, when, in fact, these effects are real, and in some cases can be as powerful as many drugs. The difference is that you’re gathering up your body’s own resources to create the benefit.

What is the unique mojo that I bring, and how can I try and amplify that?’ Amplify your strengths rather than fix your weaknesses.

My libido has taken a full-on, diva-style return to center stage." Another called it a "sober mojo revolution." I agree, sex is much better when you aren't deadening your ability to feel.

Olivia Blake, I chose you out of all humanity. You are not the first ever to falsely invoke my name, but you are the first ever to do so solely to comfort another.  You gave yourself to my son despite your pain, to ease his own.  You used my name only to spare him the wrath of your mate and, I think, to spare the life of his mate, who had done such harm to you both.  You battled Mojo Woman to save those in her thrall.  You asked for game to feed your tribe.  You asked healing for another, that she might fulfill her purpose and provide young for her mate.  In all ways, you have invoked me selflessly.  Such a heart is rare indeed, and so you are chosen to help me.

The journalist Mason Currey, who spent half a decade cataloging the habits of famous thinkers and writers (and from whom I learned the previous two examples), summarized this tendency toward systematization as follows: There is a popular notion that artists work from inspiration—that there is some strike or bolt or bubbling up of creative mojo from who knows where … but I hope [my work] makes clear that waiting for inspiration to strike is a terrible, terrible plan. In fact, perhaps the single best piece of advice I can offer to anyone trying to do creative work is to ignore inspiration. In a New York Times column on the topic, David Brooks summarizes this reality more bluntly: “[Great creative minds] think like artists but work like accountants.

I still ponder the wonders of the world around me. I find it difficult to understand, sometimes, how we, as humans, can jaunt about in our daily lives, never paying attention to what lies just in front of us. We’re so “connected,” so dialed into the Internet and television and mobile apps and social media that we barely realize where we are at any given moment.

He sighed, throwing his arms out to his sides. “See? I’ve lost my mojo,” he said to the room at large. Hope set her beer on the coffee table and went over to him. “I’ll dance with you.

Not me,” Val disagreed. “I’ve lost my mojo. Let Max go see her.

sexy vampire mojo.

Every time you used, it was a risk searching for a high just like the first time, a high you would never find again.

I guarantee there is nothing more depressing than knowing morons have complete power over you.

Your users are looking for a quick response. Work on your first response.

Just like any other occupation Entrepreneurship also has stage of remorse. All you need to do is to go more deep to know your calling better!

Kim, Di, and Gina took me to see The Dead Milkmen. Mojo Nixon was opening up for them. I was going to wear a t-shirt of The Sisters of Mercy, but Di specifically told me not to wear a goth shirt to a punk show. Di remarked, “I swear, some people will beat your ass if you have a t-shirt of any kind of band that is not hardcore. There was this kid who wore a Depeche Mode t-shirt to an Adrenaline O. D. show. They pulled his clothes off and threw him out into the parking lot.

From the Bridge” Celebrating “La Navidad Cubana” Before the fall of Batista, Cuba was considered to be a staunch Catholic Nation. As in other Christian countries, Christmas was considered a religious holiday. In 1962, a few years after the revolution, Cuba became an atheist country by government decree. Then In 1969, Fidel Castro thinking that Christmas was interfering with the production of sugar cane, totally removed the holiday from the official calendar. Of course Christmas was still celebrated by Cubans in exile, many of whom live in South Florida and Union City, NJ. However it was still was celebrated clandestinely in a subdued way on the island. It was said, if it is to believed, that part of the reason for this was due to the fact that Christmas trees do not grow in Cuba. Now that Christianity and Christmas have both been reestablished by the government, primarily due to the Pope’s visits to Cuba, Christmas as a holiday has been reinstated. Many Christmas traditions have been lost over the past five decades and are still not observed in Cuba, although the Cuban Christmas feast is highlighted by a festive “Pig Roast,” called the “Cena de Navidad” or Christmas dinner. Where possible, the dinner includes Roast Pork done on a spit, beans, plantains, rice and “mojo” which is a type of marinade with onions, garlic, and sour orange. Being a special event, some Cubans delight in serving the roasted pork, in fancier ways than others. Desserts like sweet potatos, “turrones” or nougats, “buñuelos” or fritters, as well as readily available tropical fruits and nuts hazelnuts, guava and coconuts, are very common at most Christmas dinners. Beverages such as the “Mojito” a drink made of rum, sugar cane juice, lime, carbonated water and mint, is the main alcoholic drink for the evening, although traditionally the Christmas dinner should be concluded by drinking wine. This grand Christmas dinner is considered a special annual occasion, for families and friends to join together. Following this glorious meal, many Cubans will attend Misa de Gallo or mass of the rooster, which is held in most Catholic churches at midnight. The real reason for Christmas in Cuba, as elsewhere, is to celebrate the birth of Christ. Churches and some Cuban families once again, display manger scenes. Traditionally, children receive presents from the Three Wise Men and not from Santa Claus or the parents. Epiphany or “Three King’s Day,” falls on January 6th. Christmas in Cuba has become more festive but is not yet the same as it used to be. Although Christmas day is again considered a legal holiday in Cuba, children still have to attend school on this holiday and stores, restaurants and markets stay open for regular business. Christmas trees and decorations are usually only displayed at upscale hotels and resorts.

I am unbelievably nervous. It is most unlike me. This girl is really messing with my mojo.

she was sitting in the drive-through of the Dairy Queen Bank & Trust withdrawing money to pay an anonymous blackmailer who might have murdered Steve Chasen, and keeping it all a tidy secret from her long-lost boyfriend who had no idea they had a history together. She thought her head might explode.

Sod it. If he laid a finger on my David, I’d just have to use my newfound martial arts mojo and kick him in the Knuts.

And he was still breathtakingly sexy... all muscles and male, leather and Levi's.