Nova Scotia Quotes

Never be discouraged. If I were sunk in the lowest pits of Nova Scotia, with the Rocky Mountains piled on me, I would hang on, exercise faith, and keep up good courage, and I would come out on top.

Connor; "Push me and you might just find yourself locked in the trunk of a car and on a ferry headed off to Nova Scotia. . .Again" he said Softly loving the way she practically shook with rage against him. "I knew that was you, you bastard" She snarled, looking torn between going for his nipples again or just out right killing him. "You deserved it", he felt obligated to remind her. She scoffed. "I was twelve!" "you super glued my shorts to my ass!" the smile that teased her lips transformed her face from beautiful to breathtakingly beautiful in a matter of seconds. . . She chuckled softly as she moved to put a little space between them. "I actually forgot about that".

If I were in the deepest coalpit of Nova Scotia, and had the Rocky Mountains piled on top of me, I would not be discouraged, and I would come out on top!

I rolled my eyes. “Kit is looking for a job in Nova Scotia.” “Canada?” Despite everything, Hi chuckled. “Have a good time, eh? Don’t fight with any moose. Meese. Whatever.” “Shut up.” Against all expectation, I giggled. At least I had my friends.

The music never leaves. Once you have it, you can't lose it.

In South Carolina, I had been an African. In Nova Scotia, I had become known as a Loyalist, or a Negro, or both. And now, finally back in Africa, I was seen as a Nova Scotian, and in some respects thought of myself that way too.

This left Musk searching for an industry that had tons of money and inefficiencies that he and the Internet could exploit. Musk began thinking back to his time as an intern at the Bank of Nova Scotia. His big takeaway from that job, that bankers are rich and dumb, now had the feel of a massive opportunity.

Death is a debt to Nature due Which we have paid and so must you.

Fire comes in all intensities. A hotter tongue of flame can devour another. Surely the hottest can sear a man clean.” —UILLEAM ANDRIU MACRIEVE, CHIEFTAIN OF THE NOVA SCOTIA SETTLEMENT OF CLAN MACRIEVE

If Canada had a soul (a doubtful proposition, Moses thought) then it wasn't to be found in Batoche or the Plains of Abraham or Fort Walsh or Charlottetown or Parliament Hill, but in The Caboose and thousands of bars like it that knit the country together from Peggy's Cove, Nova Scotia, to the far side of Vancouver Island.

He wouldn't try to make her feel better about something if it meant telling her a lie.

The town of Lunenburg was built on a hill running down to a sheltered harbour. On one of the upper streets stands a Presbyterian church with a huge gilded cod on its weather vane. Along the waterfront, the wooden-shingled houses are brick red, a color that originally came from mixing clay with cod-liver oil to protect the wood against the salt of the waterfront. It is the look of Nova Scotia - brick red wood, dark green pine, charcoal sea.

Abandon any hope of fruition. The key instruction is to stay in the present. Don’t get caught up in hopes of what you’ll achieve and how good your situation will be some day in the future. What you do right now is what matters. Pema Chödrön, Tibetan Buddhist nun and resident teacher of Gampo Abbey, Nova Scotia

Charles Lindbergh’s achievement in finding his way alone from Long Island to an airfield outside Paris deserves a moment’s consideration. Maintaining your bearings by means of dead reckoning means taking close note of compass headings, speed of travel, time elapsed since the last calculation, and any deviations from the prescribed route induced by drifting. Some measure of the difficulty is shown by the fact that the Byrd expedition the following month—despite having a dedicated navigator and radio operator, as well as pilot and copilot—missed their expected landfall by two hundred miles, were often only vaguely aware of where they were, and mistook a lighthouse on the Normandy coast for the lights of Paris. Lindbergh by contrast hit all his targets exactly—Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, the Dingle Peninsula in Ireland, Cap de la Hague in France, Le Bourget in Paris—and did so while making the calculations on his lap while flying an unstable plane.

Spring in Nova Scotia could be as unpredictable as a menopausal woman's moods: warm and calm one day, cold and cutting the next.

I know more about my father than I used to know: I know he wanted to be a pilot in the war but could not, because the work he did was considered essential to the war effort… I know he grew up on a farm in the backwoods of Nova Scotia, where they didn’t have running water or electricity. This is why he can build things and chop things… He did his high school courses by correspondence, sitting at the kitchen table and studying by the light by a kerosene lamp; he put himself through university by working in lumber camps and cleaning out rabbit hutches, and was so poor he lived in a tent in the summers to save money… All this is known, but unimaginable. Also I wish I did not know it. I want my father to be just my father, the way he has always been, not a separate person with an earlier, mythological life of his own. Knowing too much about other people puts you in their power, they have a claim on you, you are forced to understand their reasons for doing things and then you are weakened.

Sing a song of Tar Ponds City, party full of lies! Four and twenty liars, seventeen hands caught in pies! When the pie was cut, Hugh Briss began to sing! Wasn't that a stonewall rat to set before the Fossil's ding?

You left your infant son in the woods of Nova Scotia and then proceeded to show up every few years just to make him chase you through the dream realms. I wouldn’t call that being ‘fine,’ unless we’re only counting you.

In this part of Canada, it was assumed that the passengers would provide each other with entertainment.

When the north wind blew across the tar ponds, voices were carried away.

- Hugo... e nebun? îl întrebă Mazu printre dinți. Cu o umbră de îngrijorare, Yanosh îi cercetă chipul asudat, murdar, și tunica mânjită de o dâră de sânge. - Nebun? Oscilează.

– Nu te-oi speria cu Hugo, continuă rusul. Probabil c-o moarte din partea lui ți-ar părea mai comodă decât propria ta piele.

Well, we're originally from Glace Bay." Grandma Elsie's eyes glittered. She was looking at one of her own, a lost Cape Bretoner in need of help and offering a new story. "Tell me all about it, dear.

It’s a long story,” he said, taking a sip of Mr. Braeburn’s whiskey, “so I will tell only a very condensed version of it. “Mrs. Marsden and I grew up on adjacent properties in the Cotswold. But the Cotswold, as fair as it is, plays almost no part in this tale. Because it was not in the green, unpolluted countryside that we fell in love, but in gray, sooty London. Love at first sight, of course, a hunger of the soul that could not be denied.” Bryony trembled somewhere inside. This was not their story, but her story, the determined spinster felled by the magnificence and charm of the gorgeous young thing. He glanced at her. “You were the moon of my existence; your moods dictated the tides of my heart.” The tides of her own heart surged at his words, even though his words were nothing but lies. “I don’t believe I had moods,” she said severely. “No, of course not. ‘Thou art more lovely and more temperate’—and the tides of my heart only rose ever higher to crash against the levee of my self-possession. For I loved you most intemperately, my dear Mrs. Marsden.” Beside her Mrs. Braeburn blushed, her eyes bright. Bryony was furious at Leo, for his facile words, and even more so at herself, for the painful pleasure that trickled into her drop by drop. “Our wedding was the happiest hour of my life, that we would belong to each other always. The church was filled with hyacinths and camellias, and the crowd overflowed to the steps, for the whole world wanted to see who had at last captured your lofty heart. “But alas, I had not truly captured your lofty heart, had I? I but held it for a moment. And soon there was trouble in Paradise. One day, you said to me, ‘My hair has turned white. It is a sign I must wander far and away. Find me then, if you can. Then and only then will I be yours again.’” Her heart pounded again. How did he know that she had indeed taken her hair turning white as a sign that the time had come for her to leave? No, he did not know. He’d made it up out of whole cloth. But even Mr. Braeburn was spellbound by this ridiculous tale. She had forgotten how hypnotic Leo could be, when he wished to beguile a crowd. “And so I have searched. From the poles to the tropics, from the shores of China to the shores of Nova Scotia. Our wedding photograph in hand, I have asked crowds pale, red, brown, and black, ‘I seek an English lady doctor, my lost beloved. Have you seen her?’” He looked into her eyes, and she could not look away, as mesmerized as the hapless Braeburns. “And now I have found you at last.” He raised his glass. “To the beginning of the rest of our lives.

Kristen? Do you think it’s weird Tucker showed up on the anniversary of the accident? I mean, it is, right?” She waited for me to continue, stirring her ice around her glass. “Tucker literally fell into my lap. And do you know what kind of dog he is? A Nova Scotia duck tolling retriever.” I ticked the long name off with a five-finger tap on the countertop. “A hunting dog, Kristen. Ducks.” Kristen knew better than anyone the significance of that. Duck hunting had been Brandon’s favorite sport. He’d fly out to South Dakota every year for it with Josh.

The weather was dazzling- a sunny Nova Scotia May day. We walked through the huge iron gates into the Public Gardens and ate our sandwiches and apples beside the duck pond. I kicked off my rubber boots and wiggled my toes in the sun as I watched the swans and yellow ducklings. The Gardens were immense, full of massive and intricate flowerbeds, winding paths, and strange exotic trees. There were statues, a splashing fountain, an elaborate round bandstand, and a little river with a curved bridge over it. Lovers strolled arm and arm, and children shrieked with laughter as they chased the pigeons.

REGULARLY ATTEND AN ANNUAL security conference in Halifax, Nova Scotia. The only thing unusual about the November 2016 meeting was that it occurred just after the U.S. presidential election, and most of the formal and informal conversations among the conferees were about what to expect from the President-elect, Donald Trump. The subject was causing consternation among the governments, military, and intelligentsia of the West, including ours. I spent most of my time in Halifax reassuring friends that the United States government consists of more than the White House. Congress and, I hoped, the people the new President would appoint to senior national security positions would provide continuity in U.S. foreign policy, compensate for the lack of experience in the Oval Office, and restrain the occupant from impulsively reacting to world events. Saturday evening, when the day’s presentations were finished, a retired British diplomat, who had served as the United Kingdom’s ambassador to Russia during

He opened his hand, and inside was a tiny lavender-colored flower with a small stem. "Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Mr. Exley left us a present. Cichorium intybus. Chicory. The plant of freedom and one of the nine plants. He used it to get out of the basement, and then he left us a cutting as a courtesy. Your Mr. Exley has a good sense of humor." "He's not my Mr. Exley." "Unimportant. This little petal tells us how he got out of here." "He broke a deadbolt with a flower petal?" "In a sense, yes. Cichorium intybus is a perennial related to the dandelion. It's cultivated in England and Ireland and from Nova Scotia to Florida and west to the plains. It is not cultivated here, in South America. He brought it with him!" "For what?" "For its magical properties. The plant has a long, thick taproot filled with a bitter milky-white juice. The ancient Egyptians believed that if the juice is rubbed on the body it promotes invisibility, and removal of obstacles. The Mayans called it the plant of freedom, for the same reason.

Who is America named after? Not the Italian merchant and cartographer Amerigo Vespucci, but Richard Ameryk, a Welshman and wealthy Bristol merchant. Ameryk was the chief investor in the second transatlantic voyage of John Cabot—the English name of the Italian navigator Giovanni Caboto, whose voyages in 1497 and 1498 laid the groundwork for the later British claim to Canada. He moved to London from Genoa in 1484 and was authorized by King Henry VII to search for unknown lands to the west. On his little ship Matthew, Cabot reached Labrador in May 1497 and became the first recorded European to set foot on American soil, predating Vespucci by two years. Cabot mapped the North American coastline from Nova Scotia to Newfoundland. As the chief patron of the voyage, Richard Ameryk would have expected discoveries to be named after him. There is a record in the Bristol calendar for that year: “…on Saint John the Baptist’s day [June 24], the land of America was found by the merchants of Bristowe, in a ship of Bristowe called the Mathew,” which clearly suggests this is what happened. Although the original manuscript of this calendar has not survived, there are a number of references to it in other contemporary documents. This is the first use of the term America to refer to the new continent. The earliest surviving map to use the name is Martin Waldseemüller’s great map of the world of 1507, but it only applied to South America. In his notes Waldseemüller makes the assumption that the name is derived from a Latin version of Amerigo Vespucci’s first name, because Vespucci had discovered and mapped the South American coast from 1500 to 1502. This suggests he didn’t know for sure and was trying to account for a name he had seen on other maps, possibly Cabot’s. The only place where the name “America” was known and used was Bristol—not somewhere the France-based Waldseemüller was likely to visit. Significantly, he replaced “America” with “Terra Incognita” in his world map of 1513. Vespucci never reached North America. All the early maps and trade were British. Nor did he ever use the name of America for his discovery. There’s a good reason for this. New countries or continents were never named after a person’s first name, but always after the second (as in Tasmania, Van Diemen’s Land, or the Cook Islands). America would have become Vespucci Land (or Vespuccia) if the Italian explorer had consciously given his name to it.

At her words, words of forgiveness from Rose, an honest and just woman, something broke inside of Wince. His tears began to flow. Age seemed to drift from his face like misty ghosts from a morning field. Katie lifted his chin and, holding back her own tears, looked into his eyes. "Thank you, Wince." Eve placed her free hand on his shoulder. "May we hold her now?" Wince nodded and gently released the baby into the waiting arms of her sisters. "You did the right thing, Wince." Rose gave Wince a hug. "And you can help us bury her after Wilson and the Tar Ponds City Police see if they can find anybody to lay charges against after all this time.

I pulled the sheet off their faces. Their faces were black with coal dust and didn't look like anything was wrong with them except they were dirty. The both of them had smiles on their faces. I thought maybe one of them had told a joke just before they died and, pain and all, they both laughed and ended up with a smile. Probably not true but but it made me feel good to think about it like that, and when the Sister came in I asked her if I could clean their faces and she said, "no, certainly not!" but I said, "ah, c'mon, it's me brother n' father, I want to," and she looked at me and looked at me, and at last she said, "of course, of course, I'll get some soap and water." When the nun came back she helped me. Not doing it, but more like showing me how, and taking to me, saying things like "this is a very handsome man" and "you must have been proud of your brother" when I told her how Charlie Dave would fight for me, and "you're lucky you have another brother"; of course I was, but he was younger and might change, but she talked to me and made it all seem normal, the two of us standing over a dead face and cleaning the grit away. The only other thing I remember a nun ever saying to me was, "Mairead, you get to your seat, this minute!

During his time working for the head of strategy at the bank in the early 1990s, Musk had been asked to take a look at the company’s third-world debt portfolio. This pool of money went by the depressing name of “less-developed country debt,” and Bank of Nova Scotia had billions of dollars of it. Countries throughout South America and elsewhere had defaulted in the years prior, forcing the bank to write down some of its debt value. Musk’s boss wanted him to dig into the bank’s holdings as a learning experiment and try to determine how much the debt was actually worth. While pursuing this project, Musk stumbled upon what seemed like an obvious business opportunity. The United States had tried to help reduce the debt burden of a number of developing countries through so-called Brady bonds, in which the U.S. government basically backstopped the debt of countries like Brazil and Argentina. Musk noticed an arbitrage play. “I calculated the backstop value, and it was something like fifty cents on the dollar, while the actual debt was trading at twenty-five cents,” Musk said. “This was like the biggest opportunity ever, and nobody seemed to realize it.” Musk tried to remain cool and calm as he rang Goldman Sachs, one of the main traders in this market, and probed around about what he had seen. He inquired as to how much Brazilian debt might be available at the 25-cents price. “The guy said, ‘How much do you want?’ and I came up with some ridiculous number like ten billion dollars,” Musk said. When the trader confirmed that was doable, Musk hung up the phone. “I was thinking that they had to be fucking crazy because you could double your money. Everything was backed by Uncle Sam. It was a no-brainer.” Musk had spent the summer earning about fourteen dollars an hour and getting chewed out for using the executive coffee machine, among other status infractions, and figured his moment to shine and make a big bonus had arrived. He sprinted up to his boss’s office and pitched the opportunity of a lifetime. “You can make billions of dollars for free,” he said. His boss told Musk to write up a report, which soon got passed up to the bank’s CEO, who promptly rejected the proposal, saying the bank had been burned on Brazilian and Argentinian debt before and didn’t want to mess with it again. “I tried to tell them that’s not the point,” Musk said. “The point is that it’s fucking backed by Uncle Sam. It doesn’t matter what the South Americans do. You cannot lose unless you think the U.S. Treasury is going to default. But they still didn’t do it, and I was stunned. Later in life, as I competed against the banks, I would think back to this moment, and it gave me confidence. All the bankers did was copy what everyone else did. If everyone else ran off a bloody cliff, they’d run right off a cliff with them. If there was a giant pile of gold sitting in the middle of the room and nobody was picking it up, they wouldn’t pick it up, either.” In

Vizeadmiral Karl Donitz, now the commander of Germany's submarine force, quickly dispatched five U-boats across the Atlantic to attack merchant shipping along the U.S. East Coast. His intention in Operation Paukenschlag (Drumbeat) was to have all five launch a simultaneous attack on shipping-from Nova Scotia to Cape Hatteras-on the morning of January 13, 1942. The U.S. Atlantic Fleet was as unprepared for the onslaught of the second Battle of the Atlantic as it had been in 1918. Unlike 1918, this time the results would be devastating. In the first six months of 1942, German torpedoes, mines, and U-boat deck gun shells sank nearly 400 American and allied merchant ships in U.S. waters from Maine to Panama. During that campaign, only nine U-boats went down.

The promise was kept in 1927 – Ottawa would meet half the cost of a meagre, means-tested pension for those over seventy. Compelled to pay the other half, most provinces hesitated. Nova Scotia found a novel way to raise its share: it legalized liquor sold in government-run stores, and used the profits to help its elderly. Other provinces followed suit. By ending prohibition, Ontario Tories, elected in 1923, bounced from deficit to surplus budgets.

Dad blames it all on his family, who he claims have set records for Scandinavian incompetence since the days of Leif Ericson. While Ericson was discovering Nova Scotia, he says, a dragon boat commanded by one of his own ancestors—they were named Arnulfssen in those days—got lost sailing across the Öresund Strait from Köbenhavn to Malmö, a fifteen-mile stretch of smooth water which could be navigated by a springer spaniel with a mallard in its mouth. He often spoke of Uncle Sven, who couldn’t wave bye-bye until he was eighteen; of his great-grandfather, Gunnar, who was fired from his post of Village Idiot in Viborg because the quality of his work wasn’t high enough; of Aunt Minna, who announced, at the age of twenty-five, that she was tired of speaking Danish because it was “too hard,” and spent the rest of her life not talking at all, just pointing and gesturing and being misunderstood. It seemed

Circumstantial evidence is not, as they [defense counsel] claim, like a chain. You could have a chain spanning the Atlantic Ocean from Nova Scotia to Bordeaux, France, consisting of millions of links, and with one weak link that chain is broken. Circumstantial evidence, to the contrary, is like a rope. And each fact is a strand of that rope. And as the prosecution piles one fact upon another we add strands and we add strength to that rope. If one strand breaks—and I’m not conceding for a moment that any strand has broken in this case—but if one strand does break, the rope is not broken. The strength of the rope is barely diminished. Why? Because there are so many other strands of almost steel-like strength that the rope is still more than strong enough to bind these two defendants to justice. That’s what circumstantial evidence is all about.5

This left Musk searching for an industry that had tons of money and inefficiencies that he and the Internet could exploit. Musk began thinking back to his time as an intern at the Bank of Nova Scotia. His big takeaway from that job, that bankers are rich and dumb, now had the feel of a massive opportunity

The RMS Titanic struck an iceberg on the night of April fourteenth 1912, and sank in the North Atlantic waters in the wee hours of the following morning. She took more than 1,500 souls with her. While this death toll is devastating, it is by no means the greatest at-sea catastrophe in western history. Even besides wartime disasters, the explosion of the Mont-Blanc in Nova Scotia killed almost two thousand in 1917, the 1707 Sicily Naval Disaster killed almost the same number of people, and several other shipwrecks with smaller death tolls were arguably more dramatic. Yet fascination with the Titanic has persisted since she rested on the ocean floor, long before James Cameron’s 1997 blockbuster film. Why?

Here were the results of a city underprepared for wartime growth, a city caught napping, while it quickly became one of the most crucial ports in North America as the Allies fought the Germans.

The Intercontinental Railway is essential to the Consolidation of the Union of British North America, and to the Assent thereto of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick.

The thing is, I really like saying yes. I like new things, projects, plans, getting people together and doing something, trying something, even when it’s corny or stupid. I am not good at saying no. And I do not get along with people who say no. When you die, and it really could be this afternoon, under the same bus wheels I’ll stick my head if need be, you will not be happy about having said no. You will be kicking your ass about all the no’s you’ve said. No to that opportunity, or no to that trip to Nova Scotia or no to that night out, or no to that project or no to that person who wants to be naked with you but you worry about what your friends will say. No is for wimps. No is for pussies. No is to live small and embittered, cherishing the opportunities you missed because they might have sent the wrong message. What matters is saying yes.

For many of us, the act of waiting is among our most lasting and evocative memories. Some travelers, like my husband when he was a boy, were lucky enough to wait for ferries, where there were always the sound of ships, the small of the sea, and the sight of wheeling gulls. He remembers plain wooden benches and the sound of voices and feet echoing from hard wooden floors and walls. The cheerful newsstand was the colorful central presence in these austere stations, before plastic and the paperback explosion. Waiting for the Dartmouth-Halifax ferry in Nova Scotia, he marveled at the size of the Buffalo Sunday Times, and bought the first issue of the New Yorkers, with Eustace Tilley on the cover. Waiting, as well was travel, can broaden the mind.

I’m 22 years old and I didnae sail all the way ta Nova Scotia ta take shite offa you.

The Christmas Islands Around the world there are four separate islands that have been dubbed “Christmas Island.” Canada has one in Nova Scotia which is a community on Cape Breton Island. Another one is off the New Year Island Group north-west of Tasmania, and then there is Little Christmas Island a part of the Schouten Island Group off eastern Tasmania. Another Australian Christmas Island is an island territory in the Indian Ocean. Finally there is Kiritimati, formally called "Christmas Island.” Kiritimati is a direct translation from English to the Kiribati language. It is a small island of the Central Pacific Ocean Nation of Kiribati lying 144 miles north of the Equator. The entire population of the Republic of Kiribati is just over 100,000 people half of which live on Tarawa Atoll. With the Earth’s climate changing the entire nation is in danger of disappearing into the Pacific Ocean. The 33 atolls and islands comprising the country have a total of 310 square miles and are spread out over 1,351,000 square miles. Kiribati is a member of the Commonwealth of Nations, the IMF and the World Bank, and is a full member of the United Nations. “Christmas Island” or Kiritimati has the greatest land area of any coral atoll in the world and comprises about 70% of Kiribati’s land mass with about 150 square miles. The atoll is about 150 km (93 mi) in perimeter, while the lagoon shoreline extends for over 30 miles. The entire island is a Wildlife Sanctuary. It lies 144 miles north of the Equator and is one of the first place on Earth to experience the New Year. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. Thank's for following my Blogs & Commentaries throughout the past year. It's been a hoot! Best Wishes for a wonderful 2017. Captain Hank Bracker & crew;

The New Continent A Norwegian coin of the Viking era was once found in Maine; however, no indication of a settlement was found that could be used to verify the exact location of any landings. Perhaps it just became too cold and the growing season too short for them to linger on in this cold region. What is relatively certain is that it was not uncommon for the Vikings to sail their boats, called knars, west from Greenland to present-day Labrador. During the summer months, the warmer currents carried them north along the western coast of Greenland to what is now known as the Davis Strait, and from there they most likely headed due west for about two hundred miles over open water to Baffin Island. The Labrador Current could then have taken them as far south as the coasts of Newfoundland, Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia and possibly Maine and Cape Cod. Read & Share the daily blogs and weekly commentaries “From the Bridge” by Captain Hank Bracker, author of the award winning book “The Exciting Story of Cuba” available at Amazon.com.

Jeeter?" Grace whispered into her walkie-talkie. "Are you awake?" She waited. A few weeks ago, she and Jeeter had started chatting on their walkie-talkies late at night when she couldn't sleep. He always answered her call no matter how late it was. "I'm here," his voice echoed back. "Trouble sleeping again?" "Yeah." "Another bad dream?" "Uh-huh," she sniffed, unexpected tears flooding her eyes. My dad was calling for me, but I couldn't find him." She couldn't believe she'd said it. She'd never told anyone what she saw in her dreams. But Jeeter understood. He'd told her before that he had bad dreams too, since his mom had died.

You certainly wouldn’t want to go on vacation to the same place every single year, so why would he.

Musk began thinking back to his time as an intern at the Bank of Nova Scotia. His big takeaway from that job, that bankers are rich and dumb, now had the feel of a massive opportunity.

I just raped a 15 year old

Sometimes, you gotta test your ngas gyat before you can achieve the 10/10

Pe observator, Yanosh, îl găsi afară, molfăind o portocală. Era o scândură de om cu chip ravisant, cu umerii ascuțiți și răbdarea mai puternică decât brațele (...)

- A fost odată un hoț în portul ăsta și se numea Gaiță.

- Cu ce mai vrei să te lămuresc? - Cine-a fost ăla de mai devreme? - Mayn, răsuflă blondul ușurat. Ar trebui să fie secundul, dar e doar degeaba. - Și William ar trebui să fie țintașul, dar e doar beat? Yanosh miji. - Văd că te prinzi repede.

Yanosh căscă năuc ochii la sunetul subțire, la fel de ascuțit ca pumnalul pe care tocmai îl scăpase. Imediat cum apăsă mai tare, de această dată cu tot brațul, Mazu șuieră un blestem, dar nu reuși să-l facă pe Yanosh să cedeze. De deasupra, el se aplecase pentru a doua oară, simțind pe obraz răsuflarea bucătarului, zbuciumată și temătoare. - Când ai de gând să le spui?

Hugo își linse un deget cu cea mai serioasă mină de care dispunea. Să spună că era alb era ca și cum ar fi zis „e soare afară”. - Pun la bătaie greutatea lui în aur pentru fiecare membru din echipajul dumitale, își reveni Perucă după câteva momente de stat în cumpănă. - Dublează. - Pe jumătate. - Serios? - Credeam că urma să cer suma asta, nu s-o ofer, dar văd că ai de gând să joci în continuare. Căpitanul termină de mestecat. Brusc mai serios, trezorierul se aplecă peste masă, iar tonul vocii îi deveni mai jos. - Problema e că noi doi nu jucăm după aceleași reguli.

Rolland inspiră adânc. Îi întoarse spatele, blestemându-se când gândurile îi scăpară printre buze. - Unde să se fi dus averea dobândită de Kidd? - Au luat-o alții! A luat-o marea! Chiar nu pricepi că nu mai există?! - A luat-o mă-ta și s-a dus la dracu’!

Câteva minute și o împușcătură mai târziu, stătea întins pe nisip. Avea mâinile sub cap, un crab singuratic aproape de tălpi, ghetele uzate în dreapta și un om mort în stânga.

- Ăla-i Will?! Cum naiba a ajuns în pom?!

Împăturind scrisoarea Valynei, încerca să alunge senzația că făcuse schimb de piei cu un copil rănit, pe care sora ghinionului îl învelea înainte de culcare.

– Ar trebui să apreciezi libertatea. Și nu mai mârâi așa! Gaițele ciripesc, nu se pregătesc să latre.

Drept cadou de nuntă mi-ar prinde bine timpane noi.

Ai ales să vii pe mare, dar dedesubtul ei suntem cu toții singuri, apoi morți. Poate de asta, dacă te-ntrebai, privilegiile tale de muiere nu contează nici când suntem încă deasupra.

Chaos should be regarded as extremely good news.” PEMA CHÖDRÖN Gampo Abbey Pleasant Bay, Nova Scotia, 1996

two managers faced twenty-six counts each of manslaughter

Self-preservation is big among police and former police. With rare exceptions, police will never criticize other police, whether from their own department or a distant one.

Just like the criminals they are paid to pursue, cops don’t like rats in their ranks—the omertà of the thin blue line.

The gravitational pull of the moon affects the flow of water all over the planet with the tidal force. The tides are the rise and fall of water levels caused by the combined effects of the gravitational force of the moon and the rotation of the earth. The highest tides in the world travel through the Bay of Fundy, between New Brunswick and Nova Scotia on Canada’s east coast. Every day, more than two billion tons of water flow in and out of the bay, creating a difference of 16 meters, or more than 50 feet.

No one seemed to be around - which does not necessarily mean it was late, since it has long been my experience that no matter where you roam in the province of Nova Scotia it is usually mostly empty.

By the mid seventeenth century, legal and political thinkers in Europe were beginning to toy with the idea of an egalitarian State of Nature; at least in the minimal sense of a default state that might be shared by societies which they saw as lacking government, writing, religion, private property or other significant means of distinguishing themselves from one another. Terms like ‘equality’ and ‘inequality’ were just beginning to come into common usage in intellectual circles – around the time, indeed, that the first French missionaries set out to evangelize the inhabitants of what are now Nova Scotia and Quebec.27 Europe’s reading public was growing increasingly curious about what such primordial societies might have been like.

The Mi'kmaq in New Brunswick and Nova Scotia scoffed at the notion of European superiority. If Christian civilization was so wonderful, why were its inhabitants all trying to settle somewhere else?

I think we all agree," Peggy quips, "we need to keep Neil from any further development of the dangerous teleportation technology. I don’t want to wake up some morning and find we’re expelling dinosaurs from Nova Scotia instead of eighteenth-century British!

When, in 1861, Americans decided to butcher themselves in a civil war to determine if all men were truly created equal, the British colonies of Canada, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia were officially neutral. Britain’s 1818 Foreign Enlistment Act prohibited joining a foreign military, but approximately forty thousand British North Americans defied it to join the fight

There's something about someone knowing where you're from, I guess. Someone who knows what you mean when you say "the Valley," pronounces Bay of Fundy correctly and knows that Musquodoboit is a place and not just a bunch of letters thrown together haphazard-like.

There were also numerous blacks in the streets, and, if I might judge from the brilliant colours and good quality of their clothing, they must gain a pretty good living by their industry. A large number of these blacks and their parents were carried away from the States by one of our admirals in the war of 1812, and landed at Halifax. The capital of Nova Scotia looks like a town of cards, nearly all the buildings being of wood.

Geoffrey Learmonth strives to invest in his physical and mental well-being every day. The time he sets aside for his family is one he wants to expand on the most. He believes this is the best way to further his goal of running his own investment consulting business in the future. With a unique skill set of understanding and helping people reach their lifelong financial goals, Geoffrey is confident in his future aspirations.

Welcome to Nova Scotia. It's one of those places where everyone you meet knows someone you know, and stories travel at the speed of light. Sometimes they arrive intact.

I refused to be a sound-bite whore.

...designer of the generational insignia and chief dispenser of the Kool-Aid.

The majority of loyalist émigrés from the North went to Canada. Three-quarters of these arrived in Nova Scotia, which at that time included all the maritime provinces.

Only the hundreds who left for England and some (but scarcely all) of those headed for Canada did so as free men and women. Virtually all the emigrants to the British Isles wound up in London, where they lived in impoverished communities with few economic opportunities and no prospects for social advancement. Shortly after their arrival, many were persuaded or coerced into emigrating once again, to Sierra Leone this time. Unlike the later colonization from Nova Scotia, this early “Back to Africa” movement was promoted exclusively by whites who wanted to rid London of its people of color. For a host of reasons, the settlement failed. Former slaves from Virginia or South Carolina who had fled to the British army and finally arrived in a land of freedom wound up dying of tropical diseases or being sold back into slavery.

The English had compassion upon us in the day of distress, and issued out the Proclamation, importing, That all slaves should be free, who had taken refuge in the British lines, and claimed the sanction and privileges of the Proclamations respecting the security and protection of Negroes. In consequence of this, each of us received a certificate from the commanding officer at New-York, which dispelled all our fears, and filled us with joy and gratitude. Soon after, ships were fitted out, and furnished with every necessary for conveying us to Nova Scotia.

Being so open requires a sort of innocence. A hope—no, more than a hope . . . a conviction that the world was safe, that people were good. That life was a gift, and nothing moved except as a positive power. Bad things happened—attacks, violence, crimes—yes, unfortunately they did. But they could always be explained and therefore, eventually, understood—so they wouldn’t have to happen again. So the people who did them could be helped, and could change.

The first documented African slave to be brought to New France was Olivier Le Jeune (died 1654), a young boy from Madagascar. But the real growth of Canada’s earlier black communities began with the American Revolutionary War. In the 1740s the British captured most of maritime Canada, including Nova Scotia, from the French. The French had called this region Acadia. In 1759 the British captured Quebec City, the main French stronghold in Canada. This marked the end of French rule in Canada, which then became a British colony.

The Great One” Wayne Gretzky.

About 180m (590 ft.) offshore is Kidston Island , owned by the town of Baddeck. It has a wonderful sand beach with lifeguards (sometimes—check with the visitor center) and an old lighthouse to explore. A shuttle service comes and goes, so check with the visitor center. The lovely Uisge Ban Falls (that’s Gaelic for “white water”) is the reward at the end of a 3km (1.8-mile) hike. The falls cascades 16m (52 ft.) down a rock face; the hike is through hardwood forest of maple, birch, and beech. Ask for a map at the visit center. Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site HISTORIC SITE   Each summer for much of his life, Alexander Graham Bell—of Scottish descent, but his family emigrated to Canada when he was young—fled the heat and humidity of Washington, D.C., for this hillside retreat perched above Bras d’Or Lake. The mansion, still owned and occupied by

interests and, as importantly, the entrance to the St. Lawrence River and therefore the French-controlled cities of Québec and Montréal. Thus the stone stronghold of Fortress Louisbourg was conceived and built. In its heyday, it was North America’s third-busiest port behind Boston and Philadelphia, home port of over 60 fishing schooners and a fleet of some 400 shallops (two-masted open boats for daily inshore fishing ventures). After possession changed several times between France and England as wars waxed and waned, the British finally destroyed it in 1758. In the 1960s, Parks Canada began a long reconstruction of the fortress (and the town within) to 1744 condition using an army of archeologists and unemployed coal miners. It became North America’s largest reconstruction project. Today, Louisbourg is a place to experience life inside a rough New World military stronghold. You arrive by boarding a bus at the interpretation center—no cars allowed near the fortress. As you climb down off the bus and are accosted by costumed guards, the illusion of entering a time warp begins. Farm animals peck and poke about. The smell of fresh baking drifts on salty air that might suddenly be shattered by the blast of a cannon or a round of musket fire. Soldiers march about and intimidate visitors who could be British spies. Children play the games of 3 centuries ago in the streets. Fishermen, servants, officers, and cooks greet guests at the doors of their respective homes and places of work. Meals here consist of rustic, historically accurate beef stew or meat pie sided by rum specifically made for the Fortress (a full meal is about C$15 in one of four restaurants designated by class—upper or lower). If you want a more complete immersion, you can become a colonial French military

​Going Public in Halifax (NS): Of the many free things to do in Halifax, strolling the waterfront from Historic Properties all the way to the Museum of Immigration at Pier 21 is a joy. I also recommend exploring the futuristic and fun Halifax Central Library and meandering through the Victorian-era Halifax Public Gardens, an oasis of serenity.

Following the terror attacks in Istanbul, Trump renewed his urgent call for America to jump into the same dark muddy pit of depravity and beat the terrorists at their own game. “We have to fight so viciously and violently because we’re dealing with violent people,” Trump told supporters at a rally at the Ohio University Eastern Campus. “We have to fight fire with fire,” and “we better get smart … and we better get tough — or we are not going to have much of a country left.” Trump further explained that waterboarding “and worse” would no longer be a war crime under his Administration because he would change the laws to allow t

gardening was the same as prayer: being quiet, present, and appreciative of nature.

There were eighty-four men aboard the Ocean Ranger when it sank. Of these, sixty-nine were Canadians and fifteen were Americans. Of the sixty-nine Canadians, fifty-six were from Newfoundland, five from Alberta, four from Ontario, three from Nova Scotia and one from Québec. Not a single one was rescued.

Slowly and tortuously, loved ones found each other again, crossing oceans and continents to gather in villages that resembled, save for a few environmental variations, those they had left behind in Nova Scotia—especially in southwestern Louisiana, where hundreds of Acadians settled beginning in the mid-1760s,

Buiten is het maandag. Dat zegt de stem van de Canadese radio-omroeper vanuit de schemerige woonkamer. Sleet, later overgaand in echte regen. Heel Nova Scotia opnieuw onder een witte deken. 'Weest u vooral voorzichtig op de weg.

Nova Scotia in 1755 fell into decline and became associated with ignorance and failure and poverty. The fisher-people of southern Louisiana became ashamed of who they were.

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In a matter of months, the Canadian physician developed a distinctive process for making illuminating gas from bitumen with coal oil as an intermediary. When he applied for a Nova Scotia patent on his process in June 1849, he used the patent to protect his products’ brand names as well, calling them kerosene and kerosene gas (from keros, Greek for “wax,” and -ene to associate the new products with familiar camphene).

We have to weigh every decision, because a butterfly flapping its wings in Nova Scotia could cause a hurricane in Guam. Or, as Homer Simpson taught us, if you kill a mosquito in dinosaur times, Ned Flanders might become the unquestioned lord and master of the universe.

Everything in Nova Scotia is touched by the sea, which finds its way into our food and drink, the way our skin feels, how we talk and smell, the roll of our gait and even how we look at the world.

The air was soft as I walked along Water Street past a lobster pound, a herring processor and a former cotton mill. Here was a terminal where the on-again, off-again ferry that ran between Yarmouth and Maine docked. There was a memorial to the 2,500 residents of Yarmouth known to have died at sea. Things grew quieter the farther along Water Street I went.

We were still fighting to hold on to what we had, whether language (Gaelic) or culture (Acadian), the transfer payments from Ottawa which accounted for a disproportionate percentage of provincial revenues, or the sweet rural life, which more Nova Scotians enjoyed than anywhere else in Canada.

I used to literally dream of Nova Scotia, its mouldering sea-stink and incessant damp, its buildings hunched like a linebacker's shoulders against the elements, its people with their mishmash of enterprise, humanity, and grit.