Nolan Ryan Quotes

So…” Nolan smirked. “Are you going to tell me why you had a trunk load of pleasure devices delivered to your door, or are we going to just keep ignoring the giant box of sex toys in the room?

Nolan,” she said. “I’m…” Scared. Say it. Tell him the truth. But her mouth remained still against his. She couldn’t tell him how badly she wanted to pull him close, because then she may not let go. She couldn’t tell him how terrified she was that she’d get lost again to another man. He cupped her face, silently coaxing her to finish her sentence. “You’re what, love?” Her eyes met his. “I’m broken.

There were no strangers here tonight, only family. As he sang, Carter focused on sending the love he felt back out to Liz and Nolan, to Elliot and Jennifer, and Ethan, especially Ethan, who saw music in the sky and goodness in every person. Ethan, who had seen Carter in a way Carter had never seen himself, and showed Carter that he was more than a series of twitches and consonants. Ethan, who Carter loved. Ethan, who loved Carter.

From my experience, CIA cocaine ops were what Charlie Pride4’s tournaments were really all about. Part of the cash generated was laundered through his bank in Dallas, Texas. Pride was tied into the same Savings and Loan scandals that Neil Bush5 had been caught in. Even Bush Jr.’s baseball “bud” Nolan Ryan6 owned a bank associated with CIA black ops. Additionally, the drug running I was involved with was channeled through Albuquerque’s LA Dodger baseball training camp and profits laundered through local Catholic charities. Charlie Pride’s annual Pro-Am Golf Tournaments covered it all.

Most people don't think Batman = Bob Kane or Batman = Christopher Nolan. Most people think Batman = Me. The public thinks it owns Batman, which is how mythology works. Who is the author of the Greek myths? It's not exactly Homer. Because we are the ones who have kept the myths alive over centuries by retelling the stories in a myriad of different forms.

Alan Ladd as Neale Jordan Veronica Lake as Ellen Hillman Mike Mazurki as Paul Fontana Elisha Cook Jr. as Ciro Ricci Gloria Graham as May Martell Frank Lovejoy as Randolph McGraw Hugh Beaumont as Charlie Gray Lloyd Nolan as Victor Haskell June Lockhart as Janet Haskell James Craig as Eddie Lomax Laird Cregar as Frank Perkins William Bendix as Art Barker Richard Denning as Jerry Markle James Gleason as Sam Menard Tom Drake as Roy Douglas Dick as Tommy Barrow Virginia Grey as Claire Allen Farley Granger as Andy Hillman Edward Ryan as Gerald

So consciousness is best left uninvited from most of the parties. When it does get included, it’s usually the last one to hear the information. Take hitting a baseball. On August 20, 1974, in a game between the California Angels and the Detroit Tigers, the Guinness Book of World Records clocked Nolan Ryan’s fastball at 100.9 miles per hour (44.7 meters per second). If you work the numbers, you’ll see that Ryan’s pitch departs the mound and crosses home plate, sixty-feet, six inches away, in four-tenths of a second. This gives just enough time for light signals from the baseball to hit the batter’s eye, work through the circuitry of the retina, activate successions of cells along the loopy superhighways of the visual system at the back of the head, cross vast territories to the motor areas, and modify the contraction of the muscles swinging the bat. Amazingly, this entire sequence is possible in less than four-tenths of a second; otherwise no one would ever hit a fastball. But the surprising part is that conscious awareness takes longer than that: about half a second, as we will see in Chapter 2. So the ball travels too rapidly for batters to be consciously aware of it. One does not need to be consciously aware to perform sophisticated motor acts. You can notice this when you begin to duck from a snapping tree branch before you are aware that it’s coming toward you, or when you’re already jumping up when you first become aware of the phone’s ring.

Khera threw a Nolan Ryan fastball with his cocktail glass, ricocheting off the assailant’s head.

Wheels within wheels was another of Minna's phrases, used exclusively to sneer at our notions of coincidence or conspiracy. If we boys ever dabbled in astonishment at, say, his running into three girls he knew from high school in a row on Court Street, two of whom he'd dated behind each other's backs, he'd bug his eyes and intone, wheels within wheels. No met had ever pitched a no-hitter, but Tom Seaver and Nolan Ryan both pitched them after being traded away---wheels within wheels.

Private Arrangements by Sherry Thomas. So, so great. As far as contemporary, I’d say my current favorite is Landslide by Kathryn Nolan. Or The Kiss Quotient by Helen Hoang. Then there’s Kennedy Ryan’s stuff. It’s pretty damn incredible—I teach her books a lot in my classes. Tessa Bailey’s cop romances slay me in the best way. Oh! To go back to historicals, I adore Elizabeth Hoyt—she writes slinky, feely sex like no one else