Nun 2 Quotes

No, I'm just a very naughty boy. I do all sorts of bad things. I kick kittens. I make rude gestures at nuns.

I kick kittens. I made rude gestures at nuns.

Nuns? They'd take one look at Barrons and decide the devil himself had come knockng. He not only looked dangerous, he emanated something that made even me feel like crossing myself sometimes, and I'm not religious.

Alec drew his hand back with a low whistle. "The Inquisitor meant business." "Of course she did. I'm a dangerous criminal. Or hadn't you heard?" Jace heard the acid in his own tone, saw Alec flinch, and was meanly, momentarily, glad. "She didn't call you a criminal, exactly..." "No, I'm just a very naughty boy. I do all sorts of bad things. I kick kittens. I make rude gestures at nun

Dog’ is ‘God’ spelled backward; you know that. That’s why you’re here, to help the nuns do God’s work.

It was an odd relationship, but then she was an extraordinary woman: a prioress who doubted much of what the church taught; an acclaimed healer who rejected medicine as practised by physicians; and a nun who made enthusiastic love to her man whenever she could get away with it. If I wanted a normal relationship, Merthin told himself, I should have picked a normal girl.

Women" he said in disgust. I wasn't sure whether we was referring to me or nuns.

What news? There's nothing to tell. I'm a nun.

probably because I am a good girl and you are an evil nun,

A woman married. Or she became a nun. Or she died. That was what being a women meant. What then, was she?

Why the hell was the nun dancing onstage?” 

Reasons why I should tell Zenny I love her right now: 1. I love her. 2. She needs to know. 3. She likes the honest guy thing. 4. An old nun told me to. Reasons why I should wait to tell her: 1. She’s bent over a sink.

When I first entered the school, I was all set to tie my hair in a ponytail, get a fake tan, and write my homework in pink gel ink. I was prepared to hear girls bragging nonchalantly about the BMWs and diamond earrings they recieved for their birthday. I almost looked forward to hearing the flashlight-wielding nuns tell me to "leave room for the holy ghost" when I danced lewedly with messy-haired prep-school boys

I’m only saying what you won’t. He’s a hunk, admit it. A tall, dark, exotic hunk who wants to bed you, and you must be a fucking nun, because it’s been three weeks since you met him and you’re going to have to remove the cobwebs from your vagina with forceps soon, they’re growing into intelligent life form—

And what was most often walled up in cellars, other than mad wives, pregnant nuns, or importunate ex-friends? Valuable objects.

Schist! Big pile of schist!” A nun at St. Agnes Academy had once washed Hazel’s mouth with lye soap for saying something very similar, so she wasn’t sure how to respond.

Nuns go by as quiet as lust, and drunken men with sober eyes sing in the lobby of the Greek hotel.

Good luck, Cork thought. In Aurora, a Lincoln Town Car would be as inconspicuous as a nun in a G-string.

Nuns didn’t age in human years,

Istvhan woke, for the second time that month, with his head buried in someone's cleavage. Unlike the first time, he knew exactly where he was and who he was with. Admittedly, she was still a nun, but that didn't seem to matter nearly as much as it used to. This is a very fine way to wake up. I could get used to this. "Are you all right down there?" asked Clara. "I am having a moment." "Yes, I see that. Can you breathe?" "Air is for the weak.

Jeder stirbt für sich allein, Eragon. Ob man nun König ist oder Bettler - niemand kann einen in die große Leere begleiten.

I know what nuns are, kind of. It's just I never saw one. I didn't know they looked like penguins.

Protect the nun!" roared Istvhan, yanking his sword free. "Protect your own damn self!" Clara roared back.

God, the fucking irony of a sinner loving a nun. It’s agony. I’m dying. And as I’m both alight and aflame with loving her, these splashes of thought keep coming out of nowhere, like raindrops on a sunny day.

You do like them thin, don't you?" Pyrlig said, amused. "Now I like them meaty as well-fed heifers! Give me a nice dark Briton with hips like a pair of ale barrels and I'm a happy priest. Poor Hild. Thin as a ray of sunlight, she is, but I pity a Dane who crosses her path today.

Ona aşıktı ve bu aşk canını acıtıyordu. Aşkı çok fazla düşünmek zorunda kalmamıştı. Yine de eğer sorsalardı renkli bir şey olduğunu söylerdi. Mutlu bir şey... Bahar gibi, çikolata gibi bir şey oması gerektiğini söylerdi. Çok yanılmış olurdu. Aşk gölün dibindeki balçıktı. Güneş ışınları göle çarpıyor, üzerini parıltılarla dolduruyordu. Nilüferler daha canlı, su daha berrak görünerek seni içine çekiyordu. Suya bir adım atıp, banyo suyu gibi bir ılıklıkla karşılaştığında derinlere gitmek için hiç düşünmüyordun. Cazibesi gözünü körleştiriyordu. Sonra da balçığa saplanıyordun. Bir şekilde yukarı çıksan da kalbini o balçığın içine saplanmış halde bırakıyordun. Aşk balçıktı. Kalbini istiyordu.

Nefes almak için sana mecburum!

Genç kızın dudakları titredi. "Gereğinden fazlasını yaşadım." Ömer karşısında kirece dönmüş bir yüzle dururken devam etmek zordu. "Daha fazlasına gücüm yok.

Some of my friends in the other nations would argue that, on occasion, truth and beauty must be defended with ugliness. They would claim a gardener who nurtures a flower so others can enjoy it bloom for a few moments must spend much time with their hands buried in dirt.” Kyoshi would have chosen a less pleasant word than dirt. “What do you believe then?” Jinpa smiled sadly. “I believe I have to make peace with my own choices, just like everyone else.” The tint of pain in his expression reminded her too much of Kelsang for her to believe Jinpa was at complete peace with himself. Outsiders enviously and condescendingly assumed Airbenders lived in a state of innocent bliss, but that didn’t give the monks and nuns enough credit for their inner strength. From what Kyoshi knew, belonging to the wandering nation meant a constant struggle with your own morals against the world’s.

Caliban had a brief, vivid memory of one of the older nuns saying: “Maybe their god could use one of those arms to pull his followers’ heads out of their own asses!

Anyone else sweating like a group’a nuns at a cucumber farm?

he’d stabbed a nun who was also a bear and now he was ogling her while she was bleeding, gods above, was there no end to his personal depravity?

What kind of fecking nuns are you?" "Ever seen the Sound of Music?" "Yes" "Not that kind

kidnapped nuns. And a wagonload of barrels and a man obsessed with oak trees. The gods are being more inscrutable than usual.

And if he did not turn aside and help a nun, his maternal relatives for nine generations would rise from their graves and come to his dreams to box his ears, with his mother at the forefront.

As I exited the car, I glanced over at Henry. "Should I call Asher and tell him we won't be needing that getaway distraction?" Before Henry could reply, pop music reverberated off the building. Asher jogged into the middle of a large crowd and struck a dramatic pose. "You say distraction," Henry deadpanned, "Asher hears 'flash mob'." Five seconds later, Vivvie danced wildly past and gave me a questioning look. I nodded. "The possum has fallen on the nun!" Vivvie called to Asher. Asher didn't miss a beat of choreography. He shimmied and punched a fist into the air. "Long live the possum!

Angie gave me the glare -- the one that promised retribution, lameness, death, and worst of all, withholding of sexual favors, all with one look. With a look like that she could have made a good nun.

When he looked up she was smiling, that flagstone-cracking beam of a smile that had always made her look twenty years younger. Agnes's smile wasn't the kind of smile that the regular world would associate with the word "nun." It was a smile that had always contained a touch of mischief, and also a terrible rage, kept in check until it was needed. This was what had enabled her to sustain the Home, and her many other projects, in the face of opposition from the Vatican on down. The smile and the rage.

Genc adam, "Sen."dedi. Sanki aciklamayi yapmak zor geliyormus gibi kuruyan dudaklarini yaladi. "Sen orada, oylece duruyorsun. Hicbir caba harcamiyorsun. Sadece bana bakiyorsun ve ben sanki ringde bir boksor tarafindan mideme sayisiz yumruk yemis gibi hissediyorum. Sanki bedenimi karincalar istila etmis gibi her yanim karincalaniyor." Uzanip burnunu burnuna surttu. "Bedenim seninle bir olma, bana dokunman icin ihtiyac icinde yaniyor. Kendimi taniyamiyorum. Ve sen bunlari oylece durup, bana bakarak yapiyorsun.

That was really it, her message as a nun and a child of God: listen deeply to your heart. That was how and where God communicated with people. Not so much in burning bushes or on mountaintops, in blue grottos or apparitions of the Virgin Mary, but more often in the depths of their own hearts.

She sat back, testing the motion. His eyes went to her chest involuntarily and Saint's balls, she had magnificent breasts and they were right there and he was going to have to do vigil standing on his head, he'd stabbed a nun who was also a bear and now he was ogling her while she was bleeding, gods above, was there no end to his personal depravity?

Italy still has a provincial sophistication that comes from its long history as a collection of city states. That, combined with a hot climate, means that the Italians occupy their streets and squares with much greater ease than the English. The resultant street life is very rich, even in small towns like Arezzo and Gaiole, fertile ground for the peeping Tom aspect of an actor’s preparation. I took many trips to Siena, and was struck by its beauty, but also by the beauty of the Siennese themselves. They are dark, fierce, and aristocratic, very different to the much paler Venetians or Florentines. They have always looked like this, as the paintings of their ancestors testify. I observed the groups of young people, the lounging grace with which they wore their clothes, their sense of always being on show. I walked the streets, they paraded them. It did not matter that I do not speak a word of Italian; I made up stories about them, and took surreptitious photographs. I was in Siena on the final day of the Palio, a lengthy festival ending in a horse race around the main square. Each district is represented by a horse and jockey and a pair of flag-bearers. The day is spent by teams of supporters with drums, banners, and ceremonial horse and rider processing round the town singing a strange chanting song. Outside the Cathedral, watched from a high window by a smiling Cardinal and a group of nuns, with a huge crowd in the Cathedral Square itself, the supporters passed, and to drum rolls the two flag-bearers hurled their flags high into the air and caught them, the crowd roaring in approval. The winner of the extremely dangerous horse race is presented with a palio, a standard bearing the effigy of the Virgin. In the last few years the jockeys have had to be professional by law, as when they were amateurs, corruption and bribery were rife. The teams wear a curious fancy dress encompassing styles from the twelfth to the eighteenth centuries. They are followed by gangs of young men, supporters, who create an atmosphere or intense rivalry and barely suppressed violence as they run through the narrow streets in the heat of the day. It was perfect. I took many more photographs. At the farmhouse that evening, after far too much Chianti, I and my friends played a bizarre game. In the dark, some of us moved lighted candles from one room to another, whilst others watched the effect of the light on faces and on the rooms from outside. It was like a strange living film of the paintings we had seen. Maybe Derek Jarman was spying on us.

Und wenn Stalin seine Ge­neräle erschießt, dann brauchen wir das nicht einmal zu tuen. Ob wohl Stalin allmählich auch die Juden liquidiert? Vielleicht nennt er sie nur, um die Welt zu täuschen, Trotzkisten. Wer weiß? Jedenfalls sind wir nun mit Rußland verbunden. Wir haben bisher nur Vorteile davon gehabt. Der Führer hat Stalin in einem Film gesehen, und da war er ihm gleich sympathisch. Da hat eigentlich die deutsch-russische Koalition begonnen".

Three nuns are talking. The first one says, “I was cleaning Father’s room the other day and do you know what I found? A bunch of pornographic magazines.” “What did you do?” the second nun asks. “Well, of course I threw them in the trash.” “Well, I can top that,” says the second nun. “I was in Father’s room putting away his laundry and I found a bunch of condoms!” “Oh my!” gasps the first nun. “What did you do?” “I poked holes in all of them!” At which point, the third nun faints.

YOU THINK YOU are the only person in this world who is waiting?” said Sister Mary Inconnu. She was pacing. I wished she would stop, because the light was bright at the window and it is hard sometimes to keep up with a pacing nun. I kept losing her. She said, “The world is full of people like you, waiting for change. Waiting for a job. A lover. Waiting for a bite to eat. A drink of water. Waiting for the winning lottery ticket. So don’t think about the end. Picture those people instead. Picture their waiting.” I have to admit I sighed. I shook my head. How does this help? I said with my eye. She sat. At least there was that. Then she said, “Because if you picture other people like you, you will no longer be alone. And when you share, you see that your own sorrow is not so big or special. You are only another person feeling sad, and soon it will pass and you will be another person, feeling happy. It takes the sting out of life, I find, when you realize you are not alone.

But it’s a pretense, it’s artificial,” Adelia protested. “Love, honor, respect. When are they ever extended to everyday women? I doubt if that boy actually practices what he’s singing. It’s… it’s a pleasant hypocrisy.” “Oh, I have a high regard for hypocrisy,” the little nun said. “It pays lip service to an ideal which must, therefore, exist. It recognizes that there is a Good. In its own way, it is a token of civilization. You don’t find hypocrisy among the beasts of the field.” “What good does the Good do if it is not adhered to?” “That is what I have been wondering,” Mother Edyve said calmly. “And I have come to the conclusion that perhaps the early Christians wondered it, too, and perhaps that Eleanor, in her fashion, has made a start by setting a brick in a foundation on which, with God’s help, our daughters’ daughters can begin to build a new and better Jerusalem.” “Not in time for Emma,” Adelia said. “No.” Perhaps, Adelia thought drearily, it was only a very old woman who could look hopefully on a single brick laid in a wasteland.

That girl didn’t have a moment’s peace from the day Adriano Dardano set foot in Galway and started chasing her.” Sister Brannigan said, as she led them around the convent garden. “Nice of Francesca to stay still for him to catch her then wasn’t it?” Alessandro remarked dryly. “Mmph,” the nun responded. “My grandfather loved Francesca,” Alessandro insisted. “Far be it from me to speak ill of the dead. But let’s call a spade a spade, hmm? Your grandfather was a charmer. Now perhaps he didn’t realize just how naïve our Francesca was and how besotted with him she was.” “Mmm, very generous of you,” Alessandro grumbled. “I will say that on the times he brought some food he had made with Francesca up to the convent, it was clear he had a wonderful talent in the kitchen. Now mind ye, the Italian food was a bit rich for my taste but still, rather good.” “I’m sure my grandfather’s resting easier in his grave now that the holy sister has complimented his cooking,” Alessandro whispered in Bree’s ear making, her laugh out loud and Sister Brannigan turn to her in question.

While hope is still alive, then so is God. And you, as a nun, should know that!” Pelagia responded to this reproach with a humble bow, but still she did not relent. “And Christ, when He went to the cross, did He also hope?” she asked in a quiet voice. The bishop did not immediately appreciate the full significance of this audacious question and merely frowned. But having understood it, he raised himself up to his full height, stamped his foot, and exclaimed, “Would you make a suicide of our Savior? Get thee behind me, Satan! Begone!

Sadece kolumu tutup bileziğimi kırdı diye Marcello'nun boğazına falçata dayamaya cesaret etmiş bir kızdı bu. O davranışından hareketle Marcello ona elini sürerse öldüreceğini düşünürdüm. Ama şimdi Stefano'ya karşı belirgin bir saldırganlık sergilemiyordu. Tabi, bunun yanıtı basitti: küçüklüğümüzden beri babalarımızın annelerimizi dövdüğünü görmüştük. Bize bir yabancının elini bile sürmemesi gerektiğini, ama anne babanın, nişanlının ve kocanın canı istediği zaman,sevdiği için, eğitmek için,yeniden eğitmek için dövebildiğini öğrenmiştik.

[written 2,600 years ago] Another Sama After twenty-five years on the Path, I'd experienced almost everything-- except peace. When I was young, my mother told me that I would find true happiness only in marriage. Remembering her words all those years later, something in me began to tremble. I gave myself to the trembling-- and it showed me all the pain this little heart had ever known. And how countless lives of searching had brought me at last to the present moment, which I happily married. Can you imagine? We've been living together ever since, without a single argument.

I want you to go home now, but take this with you.” He pressed something cool, hard, and flat into her palm, then closed her fingers around it. She opened her hand to find a piece of pink sea glass nearly two inches wide, roughly tumbled into the shape of a heart. “It’s beautiful. Where did you get this?” “In Maine. I found it at Nuns’ Beach in Saco.” He smiled and cupped his hand under hers. “It is beautiful, isn’t it? It’s really just a piece of garbage, but it’s been battered by the waves and the sand. It’s withstood a lot and come back better than before. It’s all in the way you look at it.” The heart felt solid in her palm. “Consider it a little miracle from me to you.

Christ, I’m tired. I need sleep. I need peace. I need for my balls to not be so blue they’re practically purple. As purple as Sarah Von Titebottum’s— My mind comes to a screeching halt with the unexpected thought. And the image that accompanies it—the odd, blushing lass with her glasses and her books and very tight bottom. Sarah’s not a contestant on the show, so I’m willing to bet both my indigo balls that there’s not a camera in her room. And, I can’t believe I’m fucking thinking this, but, even better—none of the other girls will know where to find me—including Elizabeth. I let the cameras noisily track me to the lavatory, but then, like an elite operative of the Secret Intelligence Service, I plaster myself to the wall beneath their range and slide my way out the door. Less than five minutes later, I’m in my sleeping pants and a white T-shirt, barefoot with my guitar in hand, knocking on Sarah’s bedroom door. I checked the map Vanessa gave me earlier. Her room is on the third floor, in the corner of the east wing, removed from the main part of the castle. The door opens just a crack and dark brown eyes peer out. “Sanctuary,” I plead. Her brow crinkles and the door opens just a bit wider. “I beg your pardon?” “I haven’t slept in almost forty-eight hours. My best friend’s girlfriend is trying to praying-mantis me and the sound of the cameras following me around my room is literally driving me mad. I’m asking you to take me in.” And she blushes. Great. “You want to sleep in here? With me?” I scoff. “No, not with you—just in your room, love.” I don’t think about how callous the words sound—insulting—until they’re out of my mouth. Could I be any more of a dick? Thankfully, Sarah doesn’t look offended. “Why here?” she asks. “Back in the day, the religious orders used to give sanctuary to anyone who asked. And since you dress like a nun, it seemed like the logical choice.” I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Somebody just fucking shoot me and be done with it. Sarah’s lips tighten, her head tilts, and her eyes take on a dangerous glint. I think Scooby-Doo put it best when he said, Ruh-roh. “Let me make sure I’ve got this right—you need my help?” “Correct.” “You need shelter, protection, sanctuary that only I can give?” “Yes.” “And you think teasing me about my clothes is a wise strategy?” I hold up my palms. “I never said I was wise. Exhausted, defenseless, and desperate.” I pout . . . but in a manly kind of way. “Pity me.” A smile tugs at her lips. And that’s when I know she’s done for. With a sigh, she opens the door wide. “Well, it is your castle. Come in.” Huh. She’s right—it is my castle. I really need to start remembering that

My mother's dearest wish was for me to have the sort of education usually reserved for a son." "Why is that?" She shrugged. "She disliked having been so sheltered at her convent school. The nuns wanted to mold young ladies who were virtuous, not learned, and when France went mad, she resented having been molded into a beautiful, helpless damsel, unprepared to fend for herself in any particular. "She convinced my father that that must never be allowed to happen to me. That I must be molded with great independence, and raised to be able to care for myself. She wanted to make sure that if the world ever went to hell in a handbasket again in my day, as in hers, that I would be able to survive.

Lobsang sighed. ‘But I think I need you too, Joshua. I often think back to our days together on the Mark Twain.’ ‘Watched any old movies recently?’ ‘That’s another thing about Agnes. She won’t let me show any movies that don’t have nuns in.’ ‘Wow. That’s brutal.’ ‘Something else that’s good for me, she says. Of course there aren’t that many movies that qualify, and we watch them over and over.’ He shuddered. ‘Don’t talk to me about Two Mules for Sister Sara. But the musicals are the worst. Although Agnes says that the freezer-raiding scene in Sister Act is an authentic detail from convent life.’ ‘Well, that’s a consolation. Musicals with nuns in, huh . . .’ A voice rang out across the park, a voice Joshua remembered only too well from his own past. ‘Lobsang? Time to come in now. Your little friend will keep until tomorrow . . .’ ‘She has loudhailers everywhere.’ Lobsang shouldered his rake and sighed as they trudged across the grass. ‘You see what I’m reduced to? To think I hired forty-nine hundred monks to chant for forty-nine days on forty-nine mountain tops in stepwise Tibets, for this.’ Joshua clapped him on the shoulder. ‘It’s tough, Lobsang. She’s treating you like you’re a kid. Like you’re sixteen, going on seventeen.’ Lobsang looked at him sharply. ‘You can pack that in for a start,’ he snapped. ‘But I’ve got confidence you can overcome these difficulties, Lobsang. Just face up to every obstacle. Climb every mountain—’ Lobsang stalked off sulkily. Joshua waved cheerfully. ‘So long! Farewell!

Wodka pur war doch noch recht gewöhnungsbedürftig für einen sonst nur bei Anlässen Alkohol trinkenden Menschen wie mich. Teufelszeug! »Weißt, was auch blöd is?«, fragte ich. »Ne.« »Ich weiß nich ma, wo ich hin soll! Aleks und Seba … Sebasch … Basti sind schon weg, glaubsch.« »Wer isn Aleks und Seba-Sebasch-Basti? Ist dea Auslända?« »Ne, Pschychologe.« »Asoo, und wer sind die nu?« »N’ Giftzwerg und ihr blöda, perfekter Freund.« »Verstehe. Und was maxte nun, wenn de nich weißt, wo de hinsollst?« »Weiß ich eben net. Hia bleiben und tringn, denk isch.« »Quatschhh, dann kommsd de mit zu mia!«, sagte er. »Wer issn Mia?« »Na ich.« »Ich dachte, du heißd Jeff?« »Ja, ich meinde, mit zu mirrr«, antwortete er, und dank der extremen – und leider feuchten – Betonung des »R«, verstand es dieses Mal sogar ich.

I’m going to have to start booking you guys a month in advance.” “Or you could invite Ms. Rothschild over,” Kitty suggests. “Her weekends are pretty lonely too.” He gives her a funny look. “I’m sure she has plenty she’d rather do than watch The Sound of Music with her neighbor.” Brightly I say, “Don’t forget the tacos al pastor! Those are a draw, too. And you, of course. You’re a draw.” “You’re definitely a draw,” Kitty pipes up. “Guys,” Daddy begins. “Wait,” I say. “Let me just say one thing. You should be going on some dates, Daddy.” “I go on dates!” “You’ve gone on, like, two dates ever,” I say, and he falls silent. “Why not ask Ms. Rothschild out? She’s cute, she has a good job, Kitty loves her. And she lives really close by.” “See, that’s exactly why I shouldn’t ask her out,” Daddy says. “You should never date a neighbor or a coworker, because then you’ll have to keep seeing them if things don’t work out.” Kitty asks, “You mean like that quote ‘Don’t shit where you eat’?” When Daddy frowns, Kitty quickly corrects herself. “I mean ‘Don’t poop where you eat.’ That’s what you mean, right, Daddy?” “Yes, I suppose that’s what I mean, but Kitty, I don’t like you using cuss words.” Contritely she says, “I’m sorry. But I still think you should give Ms. Rothschild a chance. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out.” “Well, I’d hate to see you get your hopes up,” Daddy says. “That’s life,” Kitty says. “Things don’t always work out. Look at Lara Jean and Peter.” I give her a dirty look. “Gee, thanks a lot.” “I’m just trying to make a point,” she says. Kitty goes over to Daddy and puts her arms around his waist. This kid is really pulling out all the stops. “Just think about it, Daddy. Tacos. Nuns. Nazis. And Ms. Rothschild.

I believe another one of the Song girls has a birthday coming up.” He sings, “You are sixteen, going on seventeen…” I feel a strong surge of love for him, my dad who I am so lucky to have. “What song are you singing?” Kitty interrupts. I take Kitty’s hands and spin her around the kitchen with me. “I am sixteen, going on seventeen; I know that I’m naïve. Fellows I meet may tell me I’m sweet; willingly I believe.” Daddy throws his dish towel over his shoulder and marches in place. In a deep voice he baritones, “You need someone older and wiser telling you what to do…” “This song is sexist,” Kitty says as I dip her. “Indeed it is,” Daddy agrees, swatting her with the towel. “And the boy in question was not, in fact, older and wiser. He was a Nazi in training.” Kitty skitters away from both of us. “What are you guys even talking about?” “It’s from The Sound of Music,” I say. “You mean that movie about the nun? Never seen it.” “How have you seen The Sopranos but not The Sound of Music?” Alarmed, Daddy says, “Kitty’s been watching The Sopranos?” “Just the commercials,” Kitty quickly says. I go on singing to myself, spinning in a circle like Liesl at the gazebo. “I am sixteen going on seventeen, innocent as a rose…Fellows I meet may tell me I’m sweet, and willingly I believe…” “Why would you just willingly believe some random fellows you don’t even know?” “It’s the song, Kitty, not me! God!” I stop spinning. “Liesl was kind of a ninny, though. I mean, it was basically her fault they almost got captured by the Nazis.” “I would venture to say it was Captain von Trapp’s fault,” Daddy says. “Rolfe was a kid himself--he was going to let them go, but then Georg had to antagonize him.” He shakes his head. “Georg von Trapp, he had quite the ego. Hey, we should do a Sound of Music night!” “Sure,” I say. “This movie sounds terrible,” Kitty says. “What kind of name is Georg?” We ignore her.

God Commissions Joshua JOSHUA 1 After the death of Moses the servant of the LORD, the LORD said to Joshua the son of Nun, Moses’ assistant, 2“Moses my servant is dead. Now therefore arise, go over this Jordan, you and all this people, into the land that I am giving to them, to the people of Israel. 3Every place that the sole of your foot will tread upon I have given to you, just as I promised to Moses. 4From the wilderness and this Lebanon as far as the great river, the river Euphrates, all the land of the Hittites to the Great Sea toward the going down of the sun shall be your territory. 5No man shall be able to stand before you all the days of your life. Just as I was with Moses, so I will be with you. I will not leave you or forsake you. 6Be strong and courageous, for you shall cause this people to inherit the land that I swore to their fathers to give them. 7Only be strong and very courageous, being careful to do according to all the law that Moses my servant commanded you. Do not turn from it to the right hand or to the left, that you may have good success [1] wherever you go. 8This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth,

She took one look at Alessandro and Bree and placed a hand on her chest. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Francesca, lass. Is that you?” And then she fainted. “Holy shit!” Bree rushed to the fallen nun's side, ignoring Sister McReady’s scowl of disapproval at her language. “Mommy! You killed da penguin lady!” Will cried out in surprise. Bree lightly slapped the old woman’s face and felt a rush of relief when the Mother Superior stirred. The last thing she needed on her conscience was a dead nun. The old woman’s blue eyes opened and anger filled them when her gaze shifted to Alessandro. “You. You spawn of the devil. Why don’t ye take yerself back where ye came from and leave our poor Francesca alone?” “Oh, Mother Superior, yer confused is all. Come now. On yer feet, mum,” Sister McReady said helping the old woman up. “Uh, I’m sorry. Sister. Francesca was my great aunt. My name is Bree.” “Bree? Jaysus but it’s a ridiculous resemblance it is,” the old woman panted, holding her chest. “And you?” She asked turning to Alessandro. “Of course yer not Adriano Dardano, of course but I’ll be a drunken fairy if yer not the spitting image of that demon of temptation, sent to corrupt our poor Francesca. Such a good girl she was,” Sister Brannigan murmured, tears filling her eyes. “Such a good girl.

JOSHUA 1 After the death of Moses the  aservant of the LORD, the LORD said to Joshua the son of Nun, Moses’  bassistant, 2“Moses my servant is dead. Now therefore arise, go over this Jordan, you and all this people, into the land that I am giving to them, to the people of Israel. 3 cEvery place that the sole of your foot will tread upon I have given to you, just as I promised to Moses. 4 dFrom the wilderness and this Lebanon as far as the great river, the river Euphrates, all the land of the Hittites to the Great Sea toward the going down of the sun shall be your territory. 5 eNo man shall be able to stand before you all the days of your life. Just  fas I was with Moses, so  gI will be with you.  hI will not leave you or forsake you. 6 iBe strong and courageous, for you shall cause this people to inherit the land that I swore to their fathers to give them. 7Only be strong and  jvery courageous, being careful to do according to all the law  kthat Moses my servant commanded you.  lDo not turn from it to the right hand or to the left, that you may have good success [1] wherever you go. 8This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but  myou shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it. For then you will make your way prosperous, and then you will have good success. 9Have I not commanded you?  nBe strong and courageous.  oDo not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.

Of course she did. I’m a dangerous criminal. Or hadn’t you heard?” Jace heard the acid in his own tone, saw Alec flinch, and was meanly, momentarily, glad. “She didn’t call you a criminal, exactly . . .” “No, I’m just a very naughty boy. I do all sorts of bad things. I kick kittens. I make rude gestures at nuns.

There is no creation without destruction. There is no light without dark. That's what my nuns didn't understand. It isn't a competition. Good and evil are all part of the same thing.

For centuries the church, while affirming Genesis 2 and the goodness of marriage, conceded the distractions of domestic life. One medieval solution proposed to divide the “housekeeping” among the people of God. Married people would tend to “earth” while monks and nuns, who renounced marriage, would do the work of heaven, praying “for the world, in the world’s stead.”7 During the Reformation, theologians like John Calvin and Martin Luther abolished what had become a sacrosanct division between celibates and married. By developing the concept of vocation, they taught that domestic obligation could be rendered as service to God, just as prayer and fasting were forms of worship: “Everyone [was] now expected to live all their lives coram Deo; before the face of God.”8 At the most fundamental level, vocation became a Christological category—a way of baptizing the housekeeping as sacred duty performed to God in the service of one’s neighbor.

You look a little lost, my dear,' a nun says behind me, and I jump. 'Were you interested in seeing the Bevington Triptych?' 'Oh,' I say. 'Erm... yes. Absolutely.' 'Up there,' she points, and I walk tentatively towards the front of the chapel, hoping it will become obvious what the Bevington Triptych is. A statue, maybe? Or a.. a piece of tapestry? But as I reach the elderly lady, I see that she's staring up at a whole wall of stained glass windows. I have to admit, they're pretty amazing. I mean look at that huge blue one in the middle. It's fantastic! 'The Bevington Triptych,' says the elderly woman. 'It simply has no parallel, does it?' 'Wow,' I breathe reverentially, staring up with her. 'It's beautiful.' It really is stunning. God, it just shows, there's no mistaking a real work of art, is there? When you come across real genius, it just leaps out at you. And I'm not even an expert. 'Wonderful colours,' I murmur. 'The detail,' says the woman, clasping her hands, 'is absolutely incomparable.' 'Incomparable,' I echo. I'm just about to point out the rainbow, which I think is a really nice touch - when I suddenly notice that the elderly woman and I aren't looking at the same thing. She's looking at some painted wooden thing which I hadn't even noticed. As inconspicuously as possible, I shift my gaze - and feel a pang of disappointment. Is this the Bevington triptych? But it isn't even pretty! 'Whereas this Victorian rubbish,' the woman suddenly adds savagely, 'is absolutely criminal! That rainbow! Doesn't it make you feel sick?' She gestures to my big blue window, and I gulp. 'I know,' I say. 'It's shocking, isn't it? Absolutely... You know - I think I'll just go for a little wander...

You look a little lost, my dear,' a nun says behind me, and I jump. 'Were you interested in seeing the Bevington Triptych?' 'Oh,' I say. 'Erm... yes. Absolutely.' 'Up there,' she points, and I walk tentatively towards the front of the chapel, hoping it will become obvious what the Bevington Triptych is. A statue, maybe? Or a.. a piece of tapestry? But as I reach the elderly lady, I see that she's staring up at a whole wall of stained glass windows. I have to admit, they're pretty amazing. I mean look at that huge blue one in the middle. It's fantastic! 'The Bevington Triptych,' says the elderly woman. 'It simply has no parallel, does it?' 'Wow,' I breathe reverentially, staring up with her. 'It's beautiful.' It really is stunning. God, it just shows, there's no mistaking a real work of art, is there? When you come across real genius, it just leaps out at you. And I'm not even an expert. 'Wonderful colours,' I murmur. 'The detail,' says the woman, clasping her hands, 'is absolutely incomparable.' 'Incomparable,' I echo. I'm just about to point out the rainbow, which I think is a really nice touch - when I suddenly notice that the elderly woman and I aren't looking at the same thing. She's looking at some painted wooden thing which I hadn't even noticed. As inconspicuously as possible, I shift my gaze - and feel a pang of disappointment. Is this the Bevington triptych? But it isn't even pretty! 'Whereas this Victorian rubbish,' the woman suddenly adds savagely, 'is absolutely criminal! That rainbow! Doesn't it make you feel sick?' She gestures to my big blue window, and I gulp. 'I know,' I say. 'It's shocking, isn't it? Absolutely... You know - I think I'll just go for a little wander...

I can see you're jealous of Millie's love for me," he teased, his smile charming enough to make a nun reconsider her vows, "but you can't blame her. I've always had a way with a pussy.

Anaolu'dan asla kopamaz Fazil; ne insanlarindan ne de cografyasindan. Ikinci piyano koncertosuyla iste onlari anitlastirir. Kurt Masur ve Orchestre National de Paris'in siparisi uzerine yazdigi Silence of Anatolia, kilometrelerce uzanan issizligin, insansizligin, kimsesiz arazinin, yuksek daglarin, yaklasik 800000 km2 yuzolcumuyle Almanya'nin iki katindan daha buyjk ve topragi genelde en populer piyano eserinin adi gibi kara olan Anadolu'nun ucsuz bucaksiz sessizliginin muzikal oykusudur. Ankaradan da bahseder bu hikaye. Cumhuriyet oncesinde siradan yoksul bir Anadolu koyu olan ve bu gercegi, milyonlar kenti olarak bugun de tamamen reddedemeyen, belki de reddetmej istemeyen kentten... ... Ve tabi ki umudunu diri tutar Fazil. Onun sordugu baslica sorulardan biri, Dogu'nun ve batinin nasil birlestirilecegidir. Nasil bir kopru kurulabilir bu ikisi arasinda? Sorularin yanitlari vardir Fazil Say'da: Bobby Mcferrin ve Anadolu muzikcileriyle caz yaparak ya da Sabine Meyer icin, "divan sairlerinden birinin yasamini ve eserini konu alan bir klarnet komcertosu besteleyerek" boyle bir koprunun kurulabilecegini soyler.

I’m never going to run out of steam, am I? I’ll be the Energizer bunny of militant nuns.

Wie betäubt wankte ich Londurs hinterher, der nun zum Schuppen vorausging. Und tatsächlich stand dort unser Planwagen, von dem ich mir sicher gewesen war, dass er in Xorlis sein musste. Ich war also … verrückt? Du bist nicht verrückt, versicherte mir die Stimme in meinem Kopf. Mit dir ist alles in Ordnung.

Es kommt auf jeden Einzelnen an, verstehen Sie das? Das war schon immer so, denn die Masse besteht nun mal aus Individuen. Auch wenn man zwölf Jahre lang versucht hat, uns vom Gegenteil zu überzeugen.

You’re telling me you’re not worried about your daughter hanging around with six boys with dubious reputations? And dating one of them who looks at your daughter with…that look?” My brow creased. “What look?” “Oh, please,” Aunt M scoffed. “That look. And not to mention that smile. Hungry,” she growled the word, “and hot enough to make a nun’s panties spontaneously combust.

That all their kindness was because she was a nun in distress, not because she was worthy in her own right. Stranger yet, she cared. It is easier to travel together in hard country. That’s all. That must be all. And I was lonely because I felt so alone and helpless without my sisters, even in Bastian’s house. It is only hope and camaraderie that makes me feel less lonely with these people. That’s the only reason I am reluctant to part ways, and why I keep hoping something will happen to prove that I am useful.

o monachate. Marriage or the cloister, meaning women were either marriageable, and of value, or not. She’d wager there were more women in convents than fish in the sea. And far more nunneries than monasteries. So many women, and all of them forced to look up to Mary as their guiding star. And yet look at Mary’s life – a celebration of the fecund female; the Nativity, the Madonna and Child, and finally the Lamentation over her dead son, all experiences no nun could ever share. Nuns were to be denied all these states of womanly grace.

2:1And Joshua the son of Nun sent out of Shittim two spies secretly, saying: ‘Go view the land, and Jericho.’ And they went, and came into the house of a harlot whose name was Rahab, and lay there.

His hardcore days were over. Back then, he’d had his unreliable moments: drunk, he’d mistaken nuns for whores and policemen for friends; sober, he’d made eye contact with ex-wives, no recognition on his side, and only relief on theirs. Bad times. But even then, he’d never had a gold-standard Moscow hood shimmy past without clocking him for what he was.

You've gotta give up the nun routine sometime. You're a twenty-five-year-old mom. You're not dead. Think of how good it will be for Knox to see his mom happy.

I'm Catholic,' said Daphne. 'I feel guilty about everything. It's the nuns, you know.

»Du musst Elderly für uns ausspionieren. Und Melo ist ein guter Zuhörer, wenn er … na ja, wenn er sich mit Frauen trifft.« Melo wackelt vielsagend mit den Augenbrauen und setzt ein selbstgefälliges Grinsen auf. »Nur eine meiner unzähligen Fähigkeiten, Love.« Mit der freien Hand schlägt Kate ihm auf den Hinterkopf, grinst aber dabei. »Hör auf, Pure anzumachen, sonst reißt dir Sky noch die Eier ab. Wir sind derzeit sowieso schon alle viel zu angespannt.« »Ach komm, er weiß, dass es nur Spaß ist, das mache ich bei jeder, immer. So bin ich nun mal und das weiß er. Nicht wahr, Sky?«, sagt er entrüstet und dreht sich zu Sky um, der hinter ihm steht und Melo so böse anstarrt, dass sogar Pure schlucken muss. Melo zieht den blonden, hübschen Kopf ein. »Okay, vielleicht auch nicht.« (Pure)

alles amateure, diese kellermonster, alles halbgare vollidioten: getrieben von niederen instinkten, allesamt. ich muss selbst über meine genialität lächeln, als ich türe #1 absperre mit meinem fingerabdruck und einem zwanzigstelligen zahlencode, den ich täglich wechseln werde. alleine diese gedächtnisleistung zu erlangen, kostete mich vier jahre training. die tür ist nun zu, ich betrete treppe *71 (die treppen sind gegenläufig nummeriert zu den türen, nur so zum spaß). es sind exakt einhundertzwanzig stufen bis zu #2 und weitere einhundertfünfzig zu #3, dann teilen sich die treppen erstmals, nur ich kenne die abzweigungen. es ist ein labyrinth, aber kein antikes wie in chartres am boden. der ariadnefaden wäre nutzlos.

he attended a Buddhist retreat in the north of England at which the principal teachers were a small group of Buddhist nuns. He no longer remembers any details about the tradition they belonged to, but he remembers well the profound effect their teachings had on him. At the core of the retreat were instructions on how participants could develop a practice of meditation through using the breath as a focus to remain anchored in the present moment. “What the nuns pointed me to was the part of their tradition kept alive through monastic practice for 2,500 years,” he says. “This was the importance of staying in the present moment, the importance of calm abiding, the practice of concentration in Buddhism known as samatha.” This time spent in the company of nuns, listening to their guidance, was “a seminal moment.

Die Verfertigung des Ngapie nun ist es, wofür die Fischer hauptsächlich massenhaften Absatz ihres Ertrags finden, und da es bei dem Product auf Frische nicht ankommt, so haben sie ein Auskunftsmittel gefunden, um ihre Hände nicht mit unschuldigem Blute zu beflecken. Die gefangenen Fische werden nicht getödtet, sondern nur in die Sonne gelegt, um sie nach der langen Nässe zu trocknen, und wenn sie über diese gute Absicht absterben sollten, so ist es nur ihre eigne Schuld.

How was it possible for one room to contain so much hotness? One DeLuca was potent enough. The lot of them together packed enough testosterone to turn a convent of nuns. Even

You came to SoCal to start over and I acted like every guy from your past. Just wanting to…fuck you. Which, yeah, I do. Badly. But that’s not all I want from you and if you decide to be a nun and never have sex again, I’m not going to bail on you. I mean…that would suck because I think we’d be pretty amazing in the sack. But I realized these past few months … you’re the first person I want to tell stuff to. Somehow, strange as it may seem, you’re my best friend … And I don’t want to mess that up.

What’s your name?” he asked again. She pursed her lips tight, shaking her head. Her eyes welled up again. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Really.” “Paige,” she whispered, a tear running down her cheek. “Paige,” she repeated in a small voice. “Yeah, that’s good. That’s a pretty name. You can say your name around here without being afraid.” “Your name?” “John,” he said, then wondered why he had done that. Something about her, he guessed. “John Middleton. No one calls me John, though. I’m known as Preacher.” “You’re a preacher?” “No,” he said with a short laugh. “Way far from it. The only one ever to call me John was my mother.” “What did your father call you?” she asked him. “Kid,” he said, and smiled. “Hey, kid,” he emphasized. “Why do they call you Preacher?” “Aw,” he said, ducking shyly. “I don’t know. I got the nickname way back, when I was just a kid in the Marine Corps. The boys said I was kinda straitlaced and uptight.” “Really? Are you?” “Nah, not really,” he said. “I never used to curse at all. I used to go to mass, when there was a mass. I grew up around priests and nuns—my mother was real devout. None of the boys ever went to mass, that I remember. And I kind of hung back when they went out to get drunk and look for women. I don’t know...I never felt like doing that. I’m not good with women.” He smiled suddenly. “That should be obvious right away, huh? And getting drunk never really appealed to me.” “But you have a bar?” she asked. “It’s Jack’s bar. He watches over people real good. We don’t let anybody out of here if they’re not safe, you know? I like a shot at the end of the day, but no reason to get a headache over it, right?” He grinned at her. “Should I call you John?” she asked him. “Or Preacher?” “Whatever you want.” “John,” she said. “Okay?” “If you want. Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I like that. Been a while since anyone called me that.” She

You're handsome and you have a nice accent, and a chest that would make a nun perspire.

St. Nectarios died in an Athens hospital in 1920. The nun and nurse who were attending him removed his woolen undershirt and carelessly tossed it onto the bed of a paralytic. The paralyzed man immediately stood up and began praising God. The next day, at the first public viewing of his body, the crowd was amazed to see that his face was exuding a sweet-smelling myrrh. Six months later his coffin was opened while work was being done to the grave. St. Nectarios’ unembalmed body had remained uncorrupt and continued to exude myrrh. Like the bones of the prophet Elisha that brought a dead man to life (2 Kings 13:21), the body of St. Nectarios became a source of healing and spiritual power. God’s power and majesty are manifest in His Saints even in death.

HOW TO BECOME PART OF NATURE Pay your bills promptly Keep track of everything you spend Take taxis everywhere you go Avoid people you’re naturally attracted to Discuss the weather with strangers Make random phone calls at 2 a.m. Neither apologize nor forgive Avoid curiosity Always wear blue suits Never smile Tell long boring stories Yawn when people are talking to you Avoid sex whenever possible Complain loudly about unions Cultivate a British accent Make obscene gestures at nuns Never fart in public Rattle change in your pocket Flush newspapers down public toilets Lecture people about smoking Collect pornography Be the first to pass out at parties Debunk current fads Keep your eyes unfocussed This is all you need to know. Within three years of following these rules carefully you will be part of nature. —

God, the fucking irony of a sinner loving a nun. It’s agony. I’m dying. And as I’m both alight and aflame with loving her, these splashes of thought keep coming out of nowhere, like raindrops on a sunny

Reasons why I should tell Zenny I love her right now: 1. I love her. 2. She needs to know. 3. She likes the honest-guy thing. 4. An old nun told me to.

Don’t worry. We’ve got it locked up tighter than a nun’s snatch. Uh, excuse the language.” “Snatch isn’t a bad word. Bureaucracy is.

Sobald ihr beide oder einer von euch realisiert, dass ihr euch streitet, geht wie folgt vor. Damit löst sich jeder Konflikt in Luft auf und eine noch viel größere Verbundenheit entsteht: 1. Beendet sofort eure Interaktion und stellt physische Distanz her. Geht euch maximal aus dem Weg, zum Beispiel indem einer von euch den Raum oder das Haus verlässt und spazieren geht. Am besten wäre körperliche Aktivität, die der Kampf-/Flucht-Reatkion möglichst nahekommt, zum Beispiel Jogging. 2. Bleibt so lange auf Distanz, bis eure Körper/Nervensysteme wieder in den Normalmodus von Sicherheit zurückgekehrt sind, also bis der innere Aufruhr zur Ruhe gekommen ist und ihr wieder halbwegs klar denken könnt. Körperliche Anstrenung, wie oben erklärt, sorgt dafür, dass dies schnellstmöglich geschehen kann. 3. Sobald ihr euch jeweils dazu in der Lage fühlt, macht jeder für sich das Ehrliche Mitteilen rückwirkend im Geist: Du erinnerst dich zunächst, welche Körperempfindungen, Gefühle und Gedanken mitten in der Konfliktsituation gegenüber deinem Partner da waren. Dann stellst du dir innerlich vor, wie du ihm oder ihr das ehrlich mitteilst. Mach das so lange in deiner Vorstellung, bis du das Gefühl hast, dass du dies nun tatsächlich in der Realität auch machen könntest. 4. Geh erst jetzt wieder auf deinen Partner zu und hole das Ehrliche Mitteilen nach, indem du sagst, was in dem Konflikt in dir los war. Zum Beispiel: "Wenn ich das Ehrliche Mitteilen vorhin gemacht hätte, hätte ich gesagt: Ich fühle große Wut und in meinem Kopf ist der Gedanke, dass du das absichtlich gemacht hast.

I always forget you were an honest-to-God nun … and six years old to boot, if you listen to Mercymorn. How old are you, really, Harry?” “Eighteen, and my tolerance for Harry wears thin.” “Eighteen,” she said, in the tones of the jaded, fagged-out socialite. “I remember being eighteen.” “You are twenty-two.” “It’s a universe away from eighteen.

Siyasî tartışmaların parolası, en küçük fırsatı ele alarak, Ankara rejimini kötülemektir. O aylarda Yakup Kadri Karaosmanoğlu’nun “Akşam” gazetesinde hilâfet ve hanedan meselelerine temas eden bir yazısı çıkmıştı. Bu, Meclisteki devrimci takımın bir Cumhuriyet bütçesinde hanedan ve damat maaşlarının yeri olmadığı gibi, “Henüz yapılacak işler olduğunu ima eden” koridor hasbıhallerini halk efkârına aksettirici bir yazı idi. Yakup Kadri’nin, bu yazısından dolayı kürsüde hesap vermiye çağırıldığı günü hatırlıyorum. Meclisin tekmil hocaları ve muhafazakârları ön sıralara toplanmışlardı. İçlerinden biri elindeki kalemi uzatarak: - Senin iki gözünü oyacağız, diyordu. Sarıkların durmadan dalgalandığı görülüyordu. Yakup, hiçbir cümlesini tamamlıyamıyordu. Mustafa Kemal’in 2 Martta yapacaklarının yüzde birini yazmağa cesaret eden hatip, devrime on beş gün kala, kollarına güvenen birkaç delikanlı milletvekilinin kürsüye yaklaşarak savunmaya hazırlandığı pek küçük bir azlığın adamı idi.

The top of the mountain directly behind my cabin provided a breathtaking view – the Continental Divide’s snowcaps to my left, Barker Reservoir’s shimmering waters to my right – and if I stretched my eyeballs to full eyeballity, I could just make out Boulder, twenty miles down the canyon. This was my mountain, mine alone.

Gabe… of course it was Gabe. Who else could be such a mother fucking asshole that he’d literally make a nun want to cuss.

I, who have known you as well as any other person, have never seen anything from you but the best and purest of humanity. I know you will not accept my religious terminology, but you know what it means to me. You have a soul, my child. The Savior died for you as for every other human being ever born. Your life is of infinite worth to a loving God. And to me, my son. You will find your own purpose for the time you have left to live. Do not be reckless with your life, just because it will not be long. But do not guard it overzealously, either. Death is not a tragedy to the one who dies. To have wasted the life before that death, that is the tragedy. Already you have used your years better than most. You will yet find many new purposes, and you will accomplish them. And if anyone in heaven heeds the voice of this old nun, you will be well watched over by angels and prayed for by many saints.

»Borch« – der Weißhaarige wandte sich vom Pferd ab, schaute dem Unbekannten in die hellen Augen –, »ich möchte nicht, dass es zwischen uns Unklarheiten gibt. Ich bin Hexer.« »Das hab ich mir gedacht. Aber du sagst es in einem Ton, als würdest du sagen: ›Ich bin aussätzig.‹« »Es gibt Leute«, sagte Geralt langsam, »die die Gesellschaft von Aussätzigen der eines Hexers vorziehen würden.« »Es gibt auch Leute« – Drei Dohlen lächelte –, »die ein Schaf einem Mädchen vorziehen. Nun ja, sie können mir nur leidtun, die einen wie die anderen. Ich bleibe bei meinem Angebot.« Geralt zog den Handschuh aus, drückte die ihm dargebotene Hand. »Ich nehme an und freue mich über unsere Bekanntschaft.« »Also dann, auf den Weg; ich habe nämlich Hunger.«

Which was more fucked up than a one-legged nun doing power squats in a cucumber patch.

I’m taking four lovers with me to the bridal shop. Four lovers, a future nun, and my estranged mother. How exciting.

These three divisions are known respectively as: the Vinaya Piṭaka, this being the portion of the canon that is concerned with regulating the life of Buddhist monks and nuns; the Sūtra Piṭaka, the collection of sūtras, i.e. of discourses given by the Buddha; and thirdly, the Abhidharma Piṭaka, which is concerned with the systematic explanation and ordering of key teachings and analyses, i.e. teachings and analyses that are to be found in the Sūtra Piṭaka. It seems that the term piṭaka itself only came into use in the 2nd century BCE.87