Overwhelming Thank You Quotes

Meeting you was a disaster.” She raised a brow. “Thank you.” Djel, he was terrible at this. He stumbled on, trying to make her understand. “But I am grateful for that disaster. I needed a catastrophe to shake me from the life I knew. You were an earthquake, a landslide.” “I,” she said, planting a hand on her hip, “am a delicate flower.” “You aren’t a flower, you’re every blossom in the wood blooming at once. You are a tidal wave. You’re a stampede. You are overwhelming.

[Y]ou have to stop loving and pursuing Christ in order to sin. When you are pursuing love, running toward Christ, you do not have opportunity to wonder, *Am I doing this right?* or *Did I serve enough this week?* When you are running toward Christ, you are freed up to serve, love, and give thanks without guilt, worry or fear. As long as you are running, you're safe.

Meeting you was a disaster.” She raised a brow. “Thank you.” Djel, he was terrible at this. He stumbled on, trying to make her understand. “But I am grateful every day for that disaster. I needed a cataclysm to shake me from the life I knew. You were an earthquake, a landslide.” “I,” she said, planting a hand on her hip, “am a delicate flower.” “You aren’t a flower, you’re every blossom in the wood blooming at once. You are a tidal wave. You’re a stampede. You are overwhelming.

Executive Mansion, Washington, Nov. 21, 1864. Dear Madam,-- I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant General of Massachusetts that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle. I feel how weak and fruitless must be any word of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save. I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom. Yours, very sincerely and respectfully, A. Lincoln

I felt an overwhelming gratitude in my life right now and wanted a chance to acknowledge it. I felt that any thanks given to any god all went to the same place, anyway, no matter what religion you were centered in.

Oh, thank you, I thought, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief. Dancing was stressful—but murderous demigods, those I could deal with.

I am overwhelmed by the goodness of God.

Sometimes I look at him and feel such an overwhelming appreciation for him, I almost want to write thank-you notes to our exes. It's the best thing that's ever happened to me.

We are loaded down with too many good things, more than we could ever need, while others are desperate for a small loaf. The good things we cling to are more than money; we hoard our resources, our gifts, our time, our families, out friends....how ludicrous it is to hold on to the abundance God has given us and merely repeat the words 'thank you'.

Heavenly Father, thank You so much for Your grace. Your forgiveness is SO good that I struggle with believing it at times. Thank You for rescuing me from myself and giving me Your Holy Spirit. Your love is better than life.

I wonder what Mom would say if she were here,” I said. Dad pulled back, his eyes wet with happy tears. “She’d say you did good, son.” He looked at Abby. “She’d say thank you for giving her boy back something that left him when she did.” “I don’t know about that,” Abby said, wiping her eyes. She was clearly overwhelmed by Dad’s sentiment. He hugged us again, laughing and squeezing at the same time. “You wanna bet?

V smiled, his eyes a little shiny as if he too were choked up. "Don't worry, I'm covered. So, I guess you're back, true?" "And ready to rock and roll." "Really." "For sure. I'm thinking about a future in contracting. Wanted to see how this bathroom was put together. Excellent tile work. You should check it." "How about I carry you back to bed?" "I want to look at the sink pipes next." Respect and affection clearly drove V's cool smirk. "At least let me help you up." "Nah, I can do it." With a groan, Butch gave the vertical move a shot, but then eased back down onto the tile. Turned out his head was a little overwhelming. But if they left him here long enough-a week, maybe ten days? "Come on, cop. Cry uncle here and let me help." Butch was suddenly too tired to front. As he went totally limp, he was aware of Marissa staring at him and thought, man, could he look any weaker? Shit, the only saving grace was there wasn't a cold breeze on his butt. Which suggested the hospital gown had stayed closed. Thank you, God.

 An astronomically overwhelming majority of the people who could be born never will be. You are one of a tiny minority whose number came up. Be thankful that you have a life, and forsake your vain and presumptuous desire for a second one.

Every time a seismic shift takes place in our economy, there are people who feel the vibrations long before the rest of us do, vibrations so strong they demand action—action that can seem rash, even stupid. Ferry owner Cornelius Vanderbilt jumped ship when he saw the railroads coming. Thomas Watson Jr., overwhelmed by his sense that computers would be everywhere even when they were nowhere, bet his father’s office-machine company on it: IBM. Jeffrey Preston Bezos had that same experience when he first peered into the maze of connected computers called the World Wide Web and realized that the future of retailing was glowing back at him.

Dear Jeff, I happened to see the Channel 7 TV program "Hooray for Hollywood" tonight with the segment on Blade Runner. (Well, to be honest, I didn't happen to see it; someone tipped me off that Blade Runner was going to be a part of the show, and to be sure to watch.) Jeff, after looking—and especially after listening to Harrison Ford discuss the film—I came to the conclusion that this indeed is not science fiction; it is not fantasy; it is exactly what Harrison said: futurism. The impact of Blade Runner is simply going to be overwhelming, both on the public and on creative people—and, I believe, on science fiction as a field. Since I have been writing and selling science fiction works for thirty years, this is a matter of some importance to me. In all candor I must say that our field has gradually and steadily been deteriorating for the last few years. Nothing that we have done, individually or collectively, matches Blade Runner. This is not escapism; it is super realism, so gritty and detailed and authentic and goddam convincing that, well, after the segment I found my normal present-day "reality" pallid by comparison. What I am saying is that all of you collectively may have created a unique new form of graphic, artistic expression, never before seen. And, I think, Blade Runner is going to revolutionize our conceptions of what science fiction is and, more, can be. Let me sum it up this way. Science fiction has slowly and ineluctably settled into a monotonous death: it has become inbred, derivative, stale. Suddenly you people have come in, some of the greatest talents currently in existence, and now we have a new life, a new start. As for my own role in the Blade Runner project, I can only say that I did not know that a work of mine or a set of ideas of mine could be escalated into such stunning dimensions. My life and creative work are justified and completed by Blade Runner. Thank you...and it is going to be one hell of a commercial success. It will prove invincible. Cordially, Philip K. Dick

It is not to be without emotion or feeling but to be one in whom feeling is not sticky or blocked.” It is not to deny or bury or go around your feelings or your thoughts about those feelings. It is to feel them, acknowledge them, and work with them—to understand what they are trying to tell you about you, about the situation—to let them show you where there is more work to be done without letting them overwhelm, unbalance, or trap you. They have information for you. Take the information, say thank you, and keep going.

My Darling, It is late at night and though the words are coming hard to me, I can’t escape the feeling that it’s time that I finally answer your question. Of course I forgive you. I forgive you now, and I forgave you the moment I read your letter. In my heart, I had no other choice. Leaving you once was hard enough; to have done it a second time would have been impossible. I loved you too much to have let you go again. Though I’m still grieving over what might have been, I find myself thankful that you came into my life for even a short period of time. In the beginning, I’d assumed that we were somehow brought together to help you through your time of grief. Yet now, one year later, I’ve come to believe that it was the other way around. Ironically, I am in the same position you were, the first time we met. As I write, I am struggling with the ghost of someone I loved and lost. I now understand more fully the difficulties you were going through, and I realize how painful it must have been for you to move on. Sometimes my grief is overwhelming, and even though I understand that we will never see each other again, there is a part of me that wants to hold on to you forever. It would be easy for me to do that because loving someone else might diminish my memories of you. Yet, this is the paradox: Even though I miss you greatly, it’s because of you that I don’t dread the future. Because you were able to fall in love with me, you have given me hope, my darling. You taught me that it’s possible to move forward in life, no matter how terrible your grief. And in your own way, you’ve made me believe that true love cannot be denied. Right now, I don’t think I’m ready, but this is my choice. Do not blame yourself. Because of you, I am hopeful that there will come a day when my sadness is replaced by something beautiful. Because of you, I have the strength to go on. I don’t know if spirits do indeed roam the world, but even if they do, I will sense your presence everywhere. When I listen to the ocean, it will be your whispers; when I see a dazzling sunset, it will be your image in the sky. You are not gone forever, no matter who comes into my life. you are standing with God, alongside my soul, helping to guide me toward a future that I cannot predict. This is not a good-bye, my darling, this is a thank-you. Thank you for coming into my life and giving me joy, thank you for loving me and receiving my love in return. Thank you for the memories I will cherish forever. But most of all, thank you for showing me that there will come a time when I can eventually let you go. I love you

He looks up. Our eyes lock,and he breaks into a slow smile. My heart beats faster and faster. Almost there.He sets down his book and stands.And then this-the moment he calls my name-is the real moment everything changes. He is no longer St. Clair, everyone's pal, everyone's friend. He is Etienne. Etienne,like the night we met. He is Etienne,he is my friend. He is so much more. Etienne.My feet trip in three syllables. E-ti-enne. E-ti-enne, E-ti-enne. His name coats my tongue like melting chocolate. He is so beautiful, so perfect. My throat catches as he opens his arms and wraps me in a hug.My heart pounds furiously,and I'm embarrassed,because I know he feels it. We break apart, and I stagger backward. He catches me before I fall down the stairs. "Whoa," he says. But I don't think he means me falling. I blush and blame it on clumsiness. "Yeesh,that could've been bad." Phew.A steady voice. He looks dazed. "Are you all right?" I realize his hands are still on my shoulders,and my entire body stiffens underneath his touch. "Yeah.Great. Super!" "Hey,Anna. How was your break?" John.I forget he was here.Etienne lets go of me carefully as I acknowledge Josh,but the whole time we're chatting, I wish he'd return to drawing and leave us alone. After a minute, he glances behind me-to where Etienne is standing-and gets a funny expression on hs face. His speech trails off,and he buries his nose in his sketchbook. I look back, but Etienne's own face has been wiped blank. We sit on the steps together. I haven't been this nervous around him since the first week of school. My mind is tangled, my tongue tied,my stomach in knots. "Well," he says, after an excruciating minute. "Did we use up all our conversation over the holiday?" The pressure inside me eases enough to speak. "Guess I'll go back to the dorm." I pretend to stand, and he laughs. "I have something for you." He pulls me back down by my sleeve. "A late Christmas present." "For me? But I didn't get you anything!" He reaches into a coat pocket and brings out his hand in a fist, closed around something very small. "It's not much,so don't get excited." "Ooo,what is it?" "I saw it when I was out with Mum, and it made me think of you-" "Etienne! Come on!" He blinks at hearing his first name. My face turns red, and I'm filled with the overwhelming sensation that he knows exactly what I'm thinking. His expression turns to amazement as he says, "Close your eyes and hold out your hand." Still blushing,I hold one out. His fingers brush against my palm, and my hand jerks back as if he were electrified. Something goes flying and lands with a faith dink behind us. I open my eyes. He's staring at me, equally stunned. "Whoops," I say. He tilts his head at me. "I think...I think it landed back here." I scramble to my feet, but I don't even know what I'm looking for. I never felt what he placed in my hands. I only felt him. "I don't see anything! Just pebbles and pigeon droppings," I add,trying to act normal. Where is it? What is it? "Here." He plucks something tiny and yellow from the steps above him. I fumble back and hold out my hand again, bracing myself for the contact. Etienne pauses and then drops it from a few inches above my hand.As if he's avoiding me,too. It's a glass bead.A banana. He clears his throat. "I know you said Bridgette was the only one who could call you "Banana," but Mum was feeling better last weekend,so I took her to her favorite bead shop. I saw that and thought of you.I hope you don't mind someone else adding to your collection. Especially since you and Bridgette...you know..." I close my hand around the bead. "Thank you." "Mum wondered why I wanted it." "What did you tell her?" "That it was for you,of course." He says this like, duh. I beam.The bead is so lightweight I hardly feel it, except for the teeny cold patch it leaves in my palm.

For so long I was afraid to stay close to anybody because I had so much anger and confusion inside me. I knew that I couldn't let anyone into my life until all that had passed. The problem I could never solve was how to relate to people in the meantime. Other people's love is frightening when you're suffering. It's overwhelming. When you're consumed with the effort of processing internal pain, it becomes impossible to do anything else. It's like holding your breath under water: you realise that you need to breathe but if you breathe at the wrong time, you drown. I only survived thanks to the people in my life -- people I repaid by letting them down.

I’m still here. I made it. He didn’t beat me.” Smiling softly, she gestured to herself and then our surroundings. “And look at my life now.” “I know and I’m so thankful you’re here,” I strangled out, feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

That was interesting.Who was that?" Matt looks unhappy. "What?" I ask him. "You'll talk to that guy,but you won't talk to us anymore?" "Sorry," I mumble, and climb out of his car. "He's just a friend.Thanks for the ride." Matt gets out,too. Cherrie starts to follow,but he throws her a sharp look. "So what does that mean?" he calls out. "We aren't friends anymore? You're bailing on us?" I trudge toward the house. "I'm tired, Matt.I'm going to bed." He follows anyway.I dig out my house key,but he grabs my wrist to stop me from opening the door. "Listen,I know you don't want to talk about it,but I just have this one thing to say before you go in there and cry yourself to sleep-" "Matt,please-" "Toph isn't a nice guy.He's never been a nice guy. I don't know what you ever saw in him.He talks back to everyone, he's completely unreliable, he wears those stupid fake clothes-" "Why are you telling me this?" I'm crying again.I pull my wrist from his grasp. "I know you didn't like me as much as I liked you. I know you would have rather been with him,and I dealth with that a long time ago.I'm over it." The shame is overwhelming. Even though I knew Matt was aware that I liked Toph,it's awful to hear him say it aloud. "But I'm still your friend." He's exasperated. "And I'm sick of seeing you waste your energy on that jerk. You've spent all this time afraid to talk about what was going on between you two,but if you'd bothered to just ask him, you would have discovered that he wasn't worth it. But you didn't.You never asked him, did you?" The weight of hurt is unbearable. "Please leave," I whisper. "Please just leave." "Anna." His voice levels, and he waits for me to look at him. "It was still wrong of him and Bridge not to tell you. Okay? You deserve better than that. And I sincerely hope whomever you were just talking to"-Matt gestures toward the phone in my purse-"is better than that.

Relax, it only hurts a little,” she murmured in Edwin’s ear as she stroked his head and shoulders from behind. “What you feel later more than makes up for it.”“But will I…will I have to drink blood after I am…initiated?” “Don’t worry, Edwin. I promise it will be many years before either you or Ophelia will need to seek your sustenance in such a manner.” Hamlet kissed his cheek. “Are you ready?” Edwin nodded. Closing his eyes, he turned his head slightly to give Hamlet easier access. He felt a momentary pinch and then… Ecstasy! Overwhelming warmth flooded his veins as colors exploded in his mind and a feeling of euphoria lifted him from the bed to the skies. He was flying free from the confines of his body. He soared above the clouds…heading into the stars. “Wonderful, isn’t it?” Ophelia giggled and clapped her hands. “I wish I could experience it more often, but Hamlet says it’s even better once you’re on the receiving end.” He opened his eyes slowly. Still light-headed, Edwin observed the gaze of mutual pleasure in Hamlet’s dark eyes. His sensual lips glistened with tint of red. Instead of horror or aversion, Edwin felt complete peace and contentment. “Thank you.” Without hesitation Edwin pulled Hamlet's lips to his and kissed him.

Thank you, for creating this vast and flexible playground. Thank you for creating one of the twentieth century's most popular myths, a gift that has brought billions of happy viewing hours at a critical time in world history, a time when perhaps, we need more than ever to blieve in honor, sacrifice, heart, and that special magic called life itself. As long as I live I will never forget The Moment when Luke Skywalker flew so desperately into the Death Star's trench, John William's score soaring magnificently, and the audience overwhelmed by Industrial Light and Magic's mind-bending inaugural. At that pulse-pounding moment, a moment when it seemed the individual human being could have no point or purpose, no meaning in a universe so vast and cybernetic, we heard Obi-Wan Kenobi whisper that we should trust our feelings. The Force flows through us. It controls us. We control it. Life creates it. It is more powerful than any Death Star. Hundreds of millions of people said yes, and sighed, and applauded, and went home or turned off their videos feeling just a little more empowered than they did before the lights went down and the Twentieth Century-Fox fanfare came up. No small feat. May the Force be with you, Mr. Lucas. And with us all. Always".

Meeting you was a disaster." She raised a brow. "Thank you." ...He stumbled on, trying to make her understand. "But I am grateful every day for that disaster. I needed a cataclysm to shake me from the life I knew. You were an earthquake, a landslide." "I," she said, planting a hand on her hip, "am a delicate flower." "You aren't a flower, you're every blossom in the wood blooming at once. You are a tidal wave. You're a stampede. You're overwhelming.

Do you know what day it is?” she asked, peering at him. “Don’t you?” “Here in Spindle Cove, we ladies have a schedule. Mondays are country walks. Tuesdays, sea bathing. Wednesdays, you’d find us in the garden.” She touched the back of her hand to his forehead. “What is it we do on Mondays?” “We didn’t get to Thursdays.” “Thursdays are irrelevant. I’m testing your ability to recall information. Do you remember Mondays?” He stifled a laugh. God, her touch felt good. If she kept petting and stroking him like this, he might very well go mad. “Tell me your name,” he said. “I promise to recall it.” A bit forward, perhaps. But any chance for formal introductions had already fallen casualty to the powder charge. Speaking of the powder charge, here came the brilliant mastermind of the sheep siege. Damn his eyes. “Are you well, miss?” Colin asked. “I’m well,” she answered. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same for your friend.” “Bram?” Colin prodded him with a boot. “You look all of a piece.” No thanks to you. “He’s completely addled, the poor soul.” The girl patted his cheek. “Was it the war? How long has he been like this?” “Like this?” Colin smirked down at him. “Oh, all his life.” “All his life?” “He’s my cousin. I should know.” A flush pressed to her cheeks, overwhelming her freckles. “If you’re his cousin, you should take better care of him. What are you thinking, allowing him to wander the countryside, waging war on flocks of sheep?” Ah, that was sweet. The lass cared. She would see him settled in a very comfortable asylum, she would. Perhaps Thursdays would be her day to visit and lay cool cloths to his brow. “I know, I know,” Colin replied gravely. “He’s a certifiable fool. Completely unstable. Sometimes the poor bastard even drools. But the hell of it is, he controls my fortune. Every last penny. I can’t tell him what to do.” “That’ll be enough,” Bram said. Time to put a stop to this nonsense. It was one thing to enjoy a moment’s rest and a woman’s touch, and another to surrender all pride. He gained his feet without too much struggle and helped her to a standing position, too. He managed a slight bow. “Lieutenant Colonel Victor Bramwell. I assure you, I’m in possession of perfect health, a sound mind, and one good-for-nothing cousin.” “I don’t understand,” she said. “Those blasts…” “Just powder charges. We embedded them in the road, to scare off the sheep.” “You laid black powder charges. To move a flock of sheep.” Pulling her hand from his grip, she studied the craters in the road. “Sir, I remain unconvinced of your sanity. But there’s no question you are male.” He raised a brow. “That much was never in doubt.” Her only answer was a faint deepening of her blush. “I assure you, all the lunacy is my cousin’s. Lord Payne was merely teasing, having a bit of sport at my expense.” “I see. And you were having a bit of sport at my expense, pretending to be injured.” “Come, now.” He leaned forward her and murmured, “Are you going to pretend you didn’t enjoy it?” Her eyebrows lifted. And lifted, until they formed perfect twin archer’s bows, ready to dispatch poison-tipped darts. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.

That’s just the way life is. It can be exquisite, cruel, frequently wacky, but above all utterly, utterly random. Those twin imposters in the bell-fringed jester hats, Justice and Fairness—they aren’t constants of the natural order like entropy or the periodic table. They’re completely alien notions to the way things happen out there in the human rain forest. Justice and Fairness are the things we’re supposed to contribute back to the world for giving us the gift of life—not birthrights we should expect and demand every second of the day. What do you say we drop the intellectual cowardice? There is no fate, and there is no safety net. I’m not saying God doesn’t exist. I believe in God. But he’s not a micromanager, so stop asking Him to drop the crisis in Rwanda and help you find your wallet. Life is a long, lonely journey down a day-in-day-out lard-trail of dropped tacos. Mop it up, not for yourself, but for the guy behind you who’s too busy trying not to drop his own tacos to make sure he doesn’t slip and fall on your mistakes. So don’t speed and weave in traffic; other people have babies in their cars. Don’t litter. Don’t begrudge the poor because they have a fucking food stamp. Don’t be rude to overwhelmed minimum-wage sales clerks, especially teenagers—they have that job because they don’t have a clue. You didn’t either at that age. Be understanding with them. Share your clues. Remember that your sense of humor is inversely proportional to your intolerance. Stop and think on Veterans Day. And don’t forget to vote. That is, unless you send money to TV preachers, have more than a passing interest in alien abduction or recentlypurchased a fish on a wall plaque that sings ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy.’ In that case, the polls are a scary place! Under every ballot box is a trapdoor chute to an extraterrestrial escape pod filled with dental tools and squeaking, masturbating little green men from the Devil Star. In conclusion, Class of Ninety-seven, keep your chins up, grab your mops and get in the game. You don’t have to make a pile of money or change society. Just clean up after yourselves without complaining. And, above all, please stop and appreciate the days when the tacos don’t fall, and give heartfelt thanks to whomever you pray to….

He seasoned the chicken with salt, pepper and mustard, and then grilled it to absolute perfection in clarified butter! The light coating of panko is toasted to a beautiful golden brown. Its crunch delightfully highlights the chicken's tender juiciness. "But what takes this dish's flavor and elevates it to a whole other level... are the tiny crumbles of Boudin Noir blood sausage you added during the grilling step!" "That's right! The Poussin Chicken had just been butchered, so I took a little of its blood and mixed it with some pork blood... to whip up my own special blood sausage! That gave the dish some real punch, don'tcha think?" "B-but that shouldn't even work! Blood sausage has such a powerful flavor it should have overwhelmed the more delicate Poussin Chicken... but that chicken flavor is still undeniably the centerpiece of this dish!" "That's from the fat. See, I didn't just grab some of the chicken's blood. I siphoned up some of its fat too. With this special injector here." Animal fat is just as jam-packed with richness and body as blood! A little dollop of that keeps the chicken balanced as the center of the dish while deepening its overall flavor! Not only that, he used the chain carving knife to add innumerable delicate hidden cuts in the chicken. Thanks to those, the flavors of the chicken, the sausage and the sauce all meld together seamlessly, creating a cohesive overall experience.

What is the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen?” Dragging his gaze from the beauty of the gardens, Ian looked down at the beauty beside him. “Any place,” he said huskily, “were you are.” He saw the becoming flush of embarrassed pleasure that pinkened her cheeks, but when she spoke her voice was rueful. “You don’t have to say such things to me, you know-I’ll keep our bargain.” “I know you will,” he said, trying not to overwhelm her with avowals of love she wouldn’t yet believe. With a grin he added, “Besides, as it turned out after our bargaining session, I’m the one who’s governed by all the conditions, not you.” Her sideways glance was filled with laughter. “You were much too lenient at times, you know. Toward the end I was asking for concessions just to see how far you’d go.” Ian, who had been multiplying his fortune for the last four years by buying shipping and import-export companies, as well as sundry others, was regarded as an extremely tough negotiator. He heard her announcement with a smile of genuine surprise. “You gave me the impression that every single concession was of paramount importance to you, and that if I didn’t agree, you might call the whole thing off.” She nodded with satisfaction. “I rather thought that was how I ought to do it. Why are you laughing?” “Because,” he admitted, chuckling, “obviously I was not in my best form yesterday. In addition to completely misreading your feelings, I managed to buy a house on Promenade Street for which I will undoubtedly pay five times its worth.” “Oh, I don’t think so,” she said, and, as if she was embarrassed and needed a way to avoid meeting his gaze, she reached up and pulled a leaf off an overhanging branch. In a voice of careful nonchalance, she explained, “In matters of bargaining, I believe in being reasonable, but my uncle would assuredly have tried to cheat you. He’s perfectly dreadful about money.” Ian nodded, remembering the fortune Julius Cameron had gouged out of him in order to sign the betrothal agreement. “And so,” she admitted, uneasily studying the azure-blue sky with feigned absorption, “I sent him a note after you left itemizing all the repairs that were needed at the house. I told him it was in poor condition and absolutely in need of complete redecoration.” “And?” “And I told him you would consider paying a fair price for the house, but not one shilling more, because it needed all that.” “And?” Ian prodded. “He has agreed to sell it for that figure.” Ian’s mirth exploded in shouts of laughter. Snatching her into his arms, he waited until he could finally catch his breath, then he tipped her face up to his. “Elizabeth,” he said tenderly, “if you change your mind about marrying me, promise me you’ll never represent the opposition at the bargaining table. I swear to God, I’d be lost.” The temptation to kiss her was almost overwhelming, but the Townsende coach with its ducal crest was in the drive, and he had no idea where their chaperones might be. Elizabeth noticed the coach, too, and started toward the house. "About the gowns," she said, stopping suddenly and looking up at him with an intensely earnest expression on her beautiful face. "I meant to thank you for your generosity as soon as you arrived, but I was so happy to-that is-" She realized she'd been about to blurt out that she was happy to see him, and she was so flustered by having admitted aloud what she hadn't admitted to herself that she completely lost her thought. "Go on," Ian invited in a husky voice. "You were so happy to see me that you-" "I forgot," she admitted lamely.

So, what is it, woman?” She raised one delicate eyebrow and he felt as if she’d dug down into his very soul. “I have word of Annwyl of the Dark Plains.” Brastias stood quickly, grasping the woman by the arms; she stood almost as tall as he. “Tell me, witch. Where is she?” She stared at him. “Remove your hands, or I’ll make sure you don’t have any.” Brastias took a deep breath and released her. “She is safe and alive. But she is healing. She won’t be back for another fortnight.” Brastias heaved a sigh of overwhelming relief as he sat heavily in his chair. “Thank the gods. I thought we’d lost her.” “You almost had. But the girl must have the gods smiling down on her.” “Can I see her?” The woman watched him carefully. “No. But I will get any messages you may have to her.” “Give me a few moments, I need to write something.” He grabbed quill and paper and wrote Annwyl a brief-but-to-the-point letter. He folded it, affixed his seal, and handed it to the witch. “Give her this and my love.” “You are her man then?” she asked cautiously. Brastias laughed. He did like his head securely attached to his shoulders. Becoming Annwyl’s man risked that. “Annwyl has no man because there is no man worthy of her. That includes me. So she has become the sister I lost many years ago in Lorcan’s dungeons.” The woman nodded and walked back to the entrance of Brastias’s tent. She stopped before leaving. “She asks,” the witch spoke softly without turning around, “that you not lose hope.” “As long as she lives, we won’t.” Then she was gone. Brastias closed his eyes in relief. Annwyl wasn’t dead. His hope returned.

I drew a long breath so I could point out to her all the fallacies in her argument, but then I thought; why? Out of an overwhelming duty to the truth? Fuck, as I may have observed before, the truth. If it was here, would it go out of its way to defend me? Unlikely. The truth is utterly selfish and doesn’t give a damn about anyone else. Serving the truth is like serving the empire. Nobody thanks you for it and you die poor. Besides, what is the truth, anyway? In a court of law, it’s the testimony of credible witnesses corroborating each other. She’d been a witness and she knew what she saw. So was I, but even my mother wouldn’t say I was credible. And there’d been hundreds of people there, all rock-solid upright pillars of Dejauzi society. And when I stabbed myself, there were loads of people watching, and they saw what happened with their own eyes. And, come to that, Alyattes was now the nephew of the old emperor and the rightful heir to the throne. He hadn’t been until quite recently, but pretty soon anyone who could testify against his claim would be dead or singing a very different tune, and what was once a lie would become the truth, official, carved on the lintels of triumphal arches; and if you can’t believe what you read on a government arch, what can you believe? All the books would tell it that way, and in a thousand years’ time it will be the truth, just as what was once the bottom of the sea is now a mountaintop. Ask the wise men at the university what truth is and they’ll tell you it’s the consensus of informed and qualified scholars, based on the best evidence available. Availability is governed by what gets burned in the meanwhile, but I see no real problem with that. All living things change or else they die, and why should the truth be any different?

I would like to see you cheat,” Elizabeth said impulsively, smiling at him. His hands stilled, his eyes intent on her face. “I beg your pardon?” “What I meant,” she hastily explained as he continued to idly shuffle the cards, watching her, “is that night in the card room at Charise’s there was mention of someone being able to deal a card from the bottom of the deck, and I’ve always wondered if you could, if it could…” She trailed off, belatedly realizing she was insulting him and that his narrowed, speculative gaze proved that she’d made it sound as if she believed him to be dishonest at cards. “I beg your pardon,” she said quietly. “That was truly awful of me.” Ian accepted her apology with a curt nod, and when Alex hastily interjected, “Why don’t we use the chips for a shilling each,” he wordlessly and immediately dealt the cards. Too embarrassed even to look at him, Elizabeth bit her lip and picked up her hand. In it there were four kings. Her gaze flew to Ian, but he was lounging back in his chair, studying his own cards. She won three shillings and was pleased as could be. He passed the deck to her, but Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t like to deal. I always drop the cards, which Celton says is very irritating. Would you mind dealing for me?” “Not at all,” Ian said dispassionately, and Elizabeth realized with a sinking heart that he was still annoyed with her. “Who is Celton?” Jordan inquired. “Celton is a groom with whom I play cards,” Elizabeth explained unhappily, picking up her hand. In it there were four aces. She knew it then, and laughter and relief trembled on her lips as she lifted her face and stared at her betrothed. There was not a sign, not so much as a hint anywhere on his perfectly composed features that anything unusual had been happening. Lounging indolently in his chair, he quirked an indifferent brow and said, “Do you want to discard and draw more cards, Elizabeth?” “Yes,” she replied, swallowing her mirth, “I would like one more ace to go with the ones I have.” “There are only four,” he explained mildly, and with such convincing blandness that Elizabeth whooped with laughter and dropped her cards. “You are a complete charlatan!” she gasped when she could finally speak, but her face was aglow with admiration. “Thank you, darling,” he replied tenderly. “I’m happy to know your opinion of me is already improving.” The laughter froze in Elizabeth’s chest, replaced by warmth that quaked through her from head to foot. Gentlemen did not speak such tender endearments in front of other people, if at all. “I’m a Scot,” he’d whispered huskily to her long ago. “We do.” The Townsendes had launched into swift, laughing conversation after a moment of stunned silence following his words, and it was just as well, because Elizabeth could not tear her gaze from Ian, could not seem to move. And in that endless moment when their gazes held, Elizabeth had an almost overwhelming desire to fling herself into his arms. He saw it, too, and the answering expression in his eyes made her feel she was melting. “It occurs to me, Ian,” Jordan joked a moment later, gently breaking their spell, “that we are wasting our time with honest pursuits.” Ian’s gaze shifted reluctantly from Elizabeth’s face, and then he smiled inquisitively at Jordan. “What did you have in mind?” he asked, shoving the deck toward Jordan while Elizabeth put back her unjustly won chips. “With your skill at dealing whatever hand you want, we could gull half of London. If any of our victims had the temerity to object, Alex could run them through with her rapier, and Elizabeth could shoot him before he hit the ground.” Ian chuckled. “Not a bad idea. What would your role be?” “Breaking us out of Newgate!” Elizabeth laughed. “Exactly.

At those moments I saw myself suddenly for what I was: a slave, willing to always do what he wanted, careful not to exaggerate in order not to get him in trouble, not to displease him. I wasted my time cooking for him, washing the dirty clothes he left in the house, listening to all his troubles at the university and in the many responsibilities that he was accumulating, thanks to the aura of good feeling that surrounded him and the small powers of his father-in-law; I always welcomed him joyfully, I wanted him to be happier with me than in the other house, I wanted him to relax, to confide, I felt sorry that he was continuously overwhelmed by obligations; I even wondered if Eleonora might love him more than I did, since she accepted every insult just to feel that he was still hers. But sometimes I couldn’t stand it anymore and I yelled at him, despite the risk that the girls might hear: Who am I for you, tell me why I’m in this city, why I wait for you every night, why I tolerate this situation.

is a compliment, I think. I just didn’t really understand what people thought was weird about me. It could have something to do with the following, but I’ll let you be the judge of that. Thanks to my two gifts, I have a tendency to be anxious and depressed. I’m completely overtaken by the moods of others. I procrastinate. I can’t pay bills or keep track of finances, and I have no emotional ties to money. I don’t put effort into relationships, except for those with people who have grown to accept me and don’t try to change me. I don’t bond easily with most people. I constantly stress myself out trying to help everyone except myself. I feel a connection with nature in my bones, but almost to the point of pain. I get in a funk where I feel dead inside. I’m easily overwhelmed. I don’t like to be touched. The sound of a telephone makes me want to put my fist through a wall. I have a horrendous temper and can snap but then forget about it five seconds later. I have horrible word recall. I often forget what I’m talking about midsentence and have to ask

As soon as Devon left his room, he was overwhelmed by a surplus of unwanted attention. Not one but two footmen accompanied him down the stairs, eagerly pointing out dangers such as the edge of a particular step that wasn’t quite smooth, or a section of the curved balustrade that might be slippery from a recent polishing. After negotiating the apparent perils of the staircase, Devon continued through the main hall and was obligated to stop along the way as a row of housemaids curtsied and uttered a chorus of “Happy Christmas” and “God bless you, milord,” and offered abundant wishes for his good health. Abashed by the role he seemed to have been cast in, Devon smiled and thanked them. He made his painstaking way to the dining room, which was filled with lavish arrangements of Christmas flowers, and hung with evergreen garlands twined with gold ribbon. Kathleen, West and the twins were all seated, laughing and chatting with relaxed good humor. “We knew you were approaching,” Pandora said to Devon, “from all the happy voices we could hear in the entrance hall.” “He’s not accustomed to people exclaiming happily when he arrives,” West said gravely. “Usually they do it when he leaves.

Immediately after leaving the gate we encountered a bunch of raggedly dressed street kids. They blinked sad brown eyes and held out their hands begging for money, but we ignored them. Dan flashed us an accusing look, as if we were heartless bastards. He fished some coins out of his pocket, and tossed them to the children. A frantic mob of kids immediately overwhelmed Dan, hopping up and down, clamoring for money. Dan finally broke free from the grasping children, and we set off down the street. Suddenly, Dan stopped dead in his tracks, belatedly realizing his expensive scuba diving watch was missing. While we laughed and said, “I told you so!” Dan rubbed his naked wrist and stomped around the street in disbelief, bemoaning the loss of his watch. Then an innocent looking little boy timidly approached Dan. Obviously feeling sorry for the kind-hearted American, the cute little ragamuffin timidly spoke, “Mister, I know who stole your watch. Give me a hundred pesos and I’ll get it back for you.” Dan breathed a sigh of relief, thanked the little angel profusely, and gave him a hundred pesos worth eight American dollars. The little boy quickly scuttled into the crowd never to be seen again. We laughed so hard we were choking. Dan had just set a new chump record, losing an expensive watch and a hundred pesos all within minutes of leaving the base. We dragged him into the nearest bar to console him with cold San Miguel beer.

I know that you are preparing to fight." There were screams amongst the students, some of whom clutched each other, looking around in terror for the source of the sound. "Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood." There was silence in the Hall now, the kind of silence that presses against the eardrums, that seems too huge to be contained by walls. "Give me Harry Potter," said Voldemort's voice, "and they shall not be harmed.Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. "You have until midnight." The silence swallowed them all again. Every head turned, every eye in the place seemed to have found Harry, to hold him forever in the glare of thousands of invisible beams. Then a figure rose from the Slytherin table and he recognized Pansy Parkinson as she raised a shaking arm and screamed, "But he's there! Potter's there. Someone grab him!" Before Harry could speak, there was a massive movement. The Gryffindors in front of him had risen and stood facing, not Harry, but the Slytherins. Then the Hufflepuffs stood, and almost at the same moment, the Ravenclaws, all of them with their backs to Harry, all of them looking toward Pansy instead, and Harry, awestruck and overwhelmed, saw wands emerging everywhere, pulled from beneath cloaks and from under sleeves. "Thank you, Miss Parkinson." said Professor McGonagall in a clipped voice."You will leave the Hall first with Mr. Filch. If the rest of your House could follow.

They kept in touch for years and years. Momma believed in the goodness of people and she believed in the prayer of protection, that wherever she was, God was, too. Mom had a way of taking people under her wing and making you feel special when you were talking to her. Your story mattered. And whenever she thought I was getting a little too full of myself, she’d remind me: “Robin, your story is no more important than anybody else’s story. When you strut, you stumble.” Meaning: When you think that you’re all that and a bag of chips, you’re gonna fall flat on your face. Thank you, Momma, for that invaluable lesson. We were overwhelmed with the outpouring of love for our mother. President and Michelle Obama sent a beautiful flower arrangement to our house. It was the first time I had seen Mom’s grandchildren smile in days. It was a proud moment for them. The president of the United States. They asked if they could take pictures of the flowers and Instagram them to their friends. It was painful to make the final arrangements for Mom. The owners of the Bradford-O’Keefe Funeral Home were incredibly kind and gentle. Our families have known each other for decades, and they also handled my father’s homegoing service. Mom had always said she wanted to be laid to rest in a simple pine box. We were discussing what to put on her tombstone. I had been quiet up to that point, just numb. Mom and Dad were both gone. I was left with such an empty feeling. Grandma Sally had passed when Mom was in her seventies, and I remember Mom saying she now felt like an orphan. I thought that was strange. But now I knew exactly what Mom meant. There was a lot of chatter about what words to use on Mom’s tombstone. I whispered it should simply read: A CHILD OF GOD. Everyone agreed.

His Burden Is Light Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke fits perfectly, and the burden I give you is light.” Matthew 11:28-30 What heavy burden is weighing you down and causing a heaviness and weariness in your spirit? Is it the need to take care of an elderly parent? a seemingly impossible deadline at work? juggling overwhelming responsibilities of a job plus parenting a houseful of kids? the burden of chronic illness? a difficult relationship with someone you love? financial struggles? Whatever your “heavy burden” might be, Jesus invites you, just as he did the crowds he was teaching: Come to me. Give me the heavy load you’re carrying. And in exchange, I will give you rest. Whenever I read these verses from Matthew, I breathe a sigh of relief. Jesus knows the challenges and deadlines we face and the weariness of mind or body we feel. He understands the stress, tasks, and responsibilities that are weighing us down. As we lay all that concerns us before him, his purpose replaces our agenda, and his lightness and rest replace our burden. LORD, thank you for your offer to carry my burdens for me. I give them all to you and I gladly receive your rest! I place myself under your yoke to learn from you. Teach me your wisdom that is humble and pure, and help me to walk in the ways you set before me. Thank you for your mercy and love that invite me to live my life resting and trusting in you!   WHEN HE SAYS TO YOUR DISTURBED, DISTRACTED, RESTLESS SOUL OR MIND, “COME UNTO ME,” HE IS SAYING, COME OUT OF THE STRIFE AND DOUBT AND STRUGGLE OF WHAT IS AT THE MOMENT WHERE YOU STAND, INTO THAT WHICH WAS AND IS AND IS TO BE—THE ETERNAL, THE ESSENTIAL, THE ABSOLUTE. Phillips Brooks (1835-1893)    

WHOEVER YOU ARE, WHEREVER YOU ARE..I'M STARTING TO THINK WE'RE A LOT ALIKE. HUMAN BEINGS SPINNING ON BLACKNESS. ALL WANTING TO BE SEEN, TOUCHED, HEARD, PAID ATTENTION TO. MY LOVED ONES ARE EVERYTHING TO ME HERE. IN THE LAST YEAR OR 3 I'VE SCREAMED AT MY CREATOR. SCREAMED AT CLOUDS IN THE SKY. FOR SOME EXPLANATION. MERCY MAYBE. FOR PEACE OF MIND TO RAIN LIKE MANNA SOMEHOW. 4 SUMMERS AGO, I MET SOMEBODY. I WAS 19 YEARS OLD. HE WAS TOO. WE SPENT THAT SUMMER, AND THE SUMMER AFTER, TOGETHER. EVERYDAY ALMOST. AND ON THE DAYS WE WERE TOGETHER, TIME WOULD GLIDE. MOST OF THE DAY I'D SEE HIM, AND HIS SMILE. I'D HEAR HIS CONVERSATION AND HIS SILENCE..UNTIL IT WAS TIME TO SLEEP. SLEEP I WOULD OFTEN SHARE WITH HIM. BY THE TIME I REALIZED I WAS IN LOVE, IT WAS MALIGNANT. IT WAS HOPELESS. THERE WAS NO ESCAPING, NO NEGOTIATING WITH THE FEELING. NO CHOICE. IT WAS MY FIRST LOVE, IT CHANGED MY LIFE. BACK THEN, MY MIND WOULD WANDER TO THE WOMEN I HAD BEEN WITH, THE ONES I CARED FOR AND THOUGHT I WAS IN LOVE WITH. I REMINISCED ABOUT THE SENTIMENTAL SONGS I ENJOYED WHEN I WAS A TEENAGER.. THE ONES I PLAYED WHEN I EXPERIENCED A GIRLFRIEND FOR THE FIRST TIME. I REALIZED THEY WERE WRITTEN IN A LANGUAGE I DID NOT YET SPEAK. I REALIZED TOO MUCH, TOO QUICKLY. IMAGINE BEING THROWN FROM A PLANE. I WASN'T IN A PLANE THOUGH. I WAS IN A NISSAN MAXIMA, THE SAME CAR I PACKED UP WITH BAGS AND DROVE TO LOS ANGELES IN. I SAT THERE AND TOLD MY FRIEND HOW I FELT. I WEPT AS THE WORDS LEFT MY MOUTH. I GRIEVED FOR THEM, KNOWING I COULD NEVER TAKE THEM BACK FOR MYSELF. HE PATTED MY BACK. HE SAID KIND THINGS. HE DID HIS BEST, BUT HE WOULDN'T ADMIT THE SAME. HE HAD TO GO BACK INSIDE SOON, IT WAS LATE AND HIS GIRLFRIEND WAS WAITING FOR HIM UPSTAIRS. HE WOULDN'T TELL ME THE TRUTH ABOUT HIS FEELINGS FOR ME FOR ANOTHER 3 YEARS. I FELT LIKE I'D ONLY IMAGINED RECIPROCITY FOR YEARS. NOW IMAGINE BEING THROWN FROM A CLIFF. NO, I WASN'T ON A CLIFF, I WAS STILL IN MY CAR TELLING MYSELF IT WAS GONNA BE FINE AND TO TAKE DEEP BREATHS. I TOOK THE BREATHS AND CARRIED ON. I KEPT UP A PECULIAR FRIENDSHIP WITH HIM BECAUSE I COULDN'T IMAGINE KEEPING UP MY LIFE WITHOUT HIM. I STRUGGLED TO MASTER MYSELF AND MY EMOTIONS. I WASN'T ALWAYS SUCCESSFUL. THE DANCE WENT ON.. I KEPT THE RHYTHM FOR SEVERAL SUMMERS AFTER. IT'S WINTER NOW. I'M TYPING THIS ON A PLANE BACK TO LOS ANGELES FROM NEW ORLEANS. I FLEW HOME FOR ANOTHER MARRED CHRISTMAS. I HAVE A WINDOWSEAT. IT'S DECEMBER 27, 2011. BY NOW I'VE WRITTEN TWO ALBUMS, THIS BEING THE SECOND. I WROTE TO KEEP MYSELF BUSY AND SANE. I WANTED TO CREATE WORLDS THAT WERE ROSIER THAN MINE. I TRIED TO CHANNEL OVERWHELMING EMOTIONS. I'M SURPRISED AT HOW FAR ALL OF IT HAS TAKEN ME. BEFORE WRITING THIS I'D TOLD SOME PEOPLE MY STORY. I'M SURE THESE PEOPLE KEPT ME ALIVE, KEPT ME SAFE.. SINCERELY. THESE ARE THE FOLKS I WANNA THANK FROM THE FLOOR OF MY HEART. EVERYONE OF YOU KNOWS WHO YOU ARE.. GREAT HUMANS, PROBABLY ANGELS. I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NOW, AND THAT'S ALRITE. I DON'T HAVE ANY SECRETS I NEED KEPT ANYMORE. THERE'S PROBABLY SOME SMALL SHIT STILL, BUT YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. I WAS NEVER ALONE, AS MUCH AS I FELT LIKE IT. AS MUCH AS I STILL DO SOMETIMES. I NEVER WAS. I DON'T THINK I EVER COULD BE. THANKS. TO MY FIRST LOVE, I'M GRATEFUL FOR YOU. GRATEFUL THAT EVEN THOUGH IT WASN'T WHAT I HOPED FOR AND EVEN THOUGH IT WAS NEVER ENOUGH, IT WAS. SOME THINGS NEVER ARE.. AND WE WERE. I WON'T FORGET YOU. I WON'T FORGET THE SUMMER. I'LL REMEMBER WHO I WAS WHEN I MET YOU. I'LL REMEMBER WHO YOU WERE AND HOW WE'VE BOTH CHANGED AND STAYED THE SAME. I'VE NEVER HAD MORE RESPECT FOR LIFE AND LIVING THAN I HAVE RIGHT NOW. MAYBE IT TAKES A NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE TO FEEL ALIVE. THANKS. TO MY MOTHER, YOU RAISED ME STRONG. I KNOW I'M ONLY BRAVE BECAUSE YOU WERE FIRST.. SO THANK YOU. ALL OF YOU. FOR EVERYTHING GOOD. I FEEL LIKE A FREE MAN. IF I LISTEN CLOSELY.. I CAN HEAR THE SKY FALLING TOO. - FRANK

He began, “There is absolutely no doubt in the mind of a very overwhelming number of Americans, that the best immediate defense of the United States is the success of Britain in defending itself. “Now, what I am trying to do is eliminate the dollar sign. That is something brand new in the thoughts of everybody in this room, I think—get rid of the silly, foolish, old dollar sign. “Well, let me give you an illustration,” he said, and then deployed an analogy that distilled his idea into something both familiar and easy to grasp, something that would resonate with the quotidian experience of countless Americans. “Suppose my neighbor’s home catches fire, and I have got a length of garden hose four or five hundred feet away: but, my Heaven, if he can take my garden hose and connect it up with his hydrant, I may help him put out the fire. Now, what do I do? I don’t say to him before that operation, ‘Neighbor, my garden hose cost me $15; you have got to pay me $15 for it.’ What is the transaction that goes on? I don’t want $15—I want my garden hose back after the fire is over. All right. If it goes through the fire all right, intact, without any damage to it, he gives it back to me and thanks me very much for the use of it. But suppose it gets smashed up—holes in it—during the fire; we don’t have to have too much formality about it, but I say to him, ‘I was glad to lend you that hose; I see I can’t use it any more, it’s all smashed up.’ “He says ‘How many feet of it were there?’ “I tell him, ‘There were 150 feet of it.’ “He says, ‘All right, I will replace it.’ ” That became the kernel of an act introduced in Congress soon afterward, numbered H.R. 1776 and titled “A Bill Further to Promote the Defense of the United States, and for Other Purposes,” soon to receive its lasting byname, the Lend-Lease Act. Central to the proposal was the idea that it was in the best interests of the United States to provide Britain, or any ally, with all the aid it needed, whether it could pay or not.

Alas, when she opened her mouth to thank him, her composure deserted her completely and all she could manage was a low, distraught plea. “You must stop doing this!” she said desperately. It was not the response Kesgrave anticipated. Oh, no. Having been impressed by Bea’s pluck and daring from the very first, even while her refusal to abide by his authority drove him mad with frustration, he’d never imagined that the presentation of a simple band could have such a disastrous effect on her self-possession. Kesgrave’s confusion, so readily apparent in the way he drew his eyebrows together and pursed his lips, helped relieve some of Bea’s distress. After two decades of falling short of her aunt’s unreasonable expectations, it was still revelatory to exceed his. Taken aback by her discomfort, Kesgrave immediately complied with her request, promising never to repeat the event. “I could not even if I desired to,” he assured her, “for the bracelet is the only item of your mother’s in need of reclaiming.” It was perfect, Bea thought, the characteristic pedantry of his reply, and under ordinary circumstances, it would have elicited from her a fond mocking rejoinder. But everything about the moment felt remarkable, even the sunlight filtering through the window, bathing them in a golden glow, and she answered instead with terrifying honesty. “You must stop making me love you more, Damien. The feeling is already so overwhelming, I can scarcely breathe.” His features remained steady but his eyes—oh, yes, his eyes—blazed with emotion and he raised his hand as if to touch her. Mindful of their situation, however, he let it drop before he made contact, and his lips curved slightly as he shook his head to deny her request. “I fear I cannot, Bea, no. Your brief spells of breathlessness are the only advantage I have in this relationship, and I am not prepared to relinquish it.” The duke spoke softly, emphatically, and Bea waited for amusement to enter his eyes, for she knew he was teasing, but his expression remained fervent. Warmed by his gaze, she longed to move closer, to draw his lips to hers, and it was only the presence of her family that kept her firmly rooted to the spot.

When he paused before a set of wooden doors, the slight smile he gave me was enough to make me blurt, 'Why do anything- anything this kind?' The smile faltered. 'It's been a long time since there was anyone here who appreciated these things. I like seeing them used again.' Especially when there was such blood and death in every other part of his life. He opened the gallery doors, and the breath was knocked from me. The pale wooden floors gleamed in the clean, bright light pouring in from the windows. The room was empty save for a few large chairs and benches for viewing the... the... I barely registered moving into the long gallery, one hand absent-mindedly wrapping around my throat as I looked up at the paintings. So many, so different, yet all arranged to flow together seamlessly. Such different views and snippets and angles of the world. Pastorals, portraits, still lifes... each a story and an experience, each a voice showing or whispering or singing about what that moment, that feeling had been like, each a cry into the void of time that they had been here, had existed. Some had been painted through eyes like mine, artists who saw in colours and shapes I understood. Some showcased colours I had not considered, these had a bend to the world that told me a different set of eyes had painted them. A portal into the mind of a creature so unlike me, and yet... and yet I looked at its work and understood, and felt, and cared. 'I never knew,' Tamlin said from behind me, 'that humans were capable of...' He trailed off as I turned, the hand I'd put on my throat sliding down to my chest, where my heart roared with a fierce sort of joy and grief and overwhelming humility- humility before that magnificent art. He stood by the doors, head cocked in that animalistic way, the words still lost on his tongue. I wiped at my damp cheeks. 'It's...' Perfect, wonderful, beyond my wildest imaginings didn't cover it. I kept my hand over my heart. 'Thank you,' I said. It was all I could find to show him what these paintings- to be allowed into this room- meant. 'Come here whenever you want.' I smiled at him, hardly able to contain the brightness in my heart. His returning smile was tentative but shining, and then he left me to admire the gallery at my own leisure. I stayed for hours- stayed until I was drunk on the art, until I was dizzy with hunger and wandered out to find food.

Oh, my," said Nerissa, when she could speak. Juliet, smiling, murmured, "Would you just look at her." "I don't think we can help but look at her," murmured an urbane voice, and gasping, all three women turned to see Lucien standing in the doorway, arms crossed and his black eyes gleaming in the candlelight. He lifted his hand.  "Turn around, my dear," he said, giving a negligent little wave.  Her eyes huge, Amy slowly did as he asked, staring down at herself in awe and disbelief.  The gown, an open-robed saque of watered silk, shimmered with every movement, a vibrant purplish-blue in this light, a vivid emerald-green in that.  Its robed bodice open to show a stomacher of bright yellow satin worked with turquoise and green embroidery, it had tight sleeves ending in treble flounces just behind the elbow, which, combined with the chemise's triple tiers of lace, made Amy feel as though she had wings.  She smoothed her palms over the flounced and scalloped petticoats of royal blue silk, and then, with impulsive delight, threw back her head on a little laugh, extended her arms and spun on her toe, making gauzy sleeves, shining hair, and yards upon yards of shimmering fabric float in the air around her. Hannah, who did not think such behavior was quite appropriate, especially in front of a duke, frowned, but Lucien was trying hard to contain his amusement.  He couldn't remember the last time he'd made anyone so happy, and it touched something deep inside him that he'd long thought dead.  He exchanged a look of furtive triumph with Nerissa. "Oh!  Is it really me?" Amy breathed, reverently touching her sleeve and then raising wide, suddenly misty eyes to her small audience. "It is really you," Juliet said, smiling. "Only someone with your coloring could wear such bold shades and make them work for instead of against you," said Nerissa, coming forward to tie a black ribbon around Amy's neck.  "Lud, if I tried to wear those colors, I daresay they would overwhelm me!" "Speaking of overwhelmed . . ."  Amy turned to face the man who still lounged negligently in the doorway, his fingers trying, quite unsuccessfully, to rub away the little smile that tugged at his mouth.  "Your Grace, I don't know how to thank you," she whispered, dabbing away one tear, then another.  "No one has ever done anything like this for me before and I . . . I feel like a princess." "My dear girl.  Don't you know?"  His smile deepened and she saw what was almost a cunning gleam come into his enigmatic black eyes.  "You are a princess.  Now dry those tears and if you must thank me, do so by enjoying yourself tonight." "I will, Your Grace." "Yes," he said, on a note of finality.  "You will." And

He called back with an incredible report: there were people lined up around the store already. Wow, I thought. Wow! Wow didn’t begin to cover it. People lined up on two floors of the store to talk to Chris and get their books signed, hours before he was even scheduled to arrive. Chris was overwhelmed when he got there, and so was I. The week before, he’d been just another guy walking down the street. Now, all of a sudden he was famous. Except he was still the same Chris Kyle, humble and a bit abashed, ready to shake hands and pose for a picture, and always, at heart, a good ol’ boy. “I’m so nervous,” confided one of the people on the line as he approached Chris. “I’ve been waiting for three hours just to see you.” “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Chris. “Waitin’ all that time and come to find out there’s just another redneck up here.” The man laughed, and so did Chris. It was something he’d repeat, in different variations, countless times that night and over the coming weeks. We stayed for three or four hours that first night, far beyond what had been advertised, with Chris signing each book, shaking each hand, and genuinely grateful for each person who came. For their part, they were anxious not just to meet him but to thank him for his service to our country-and by extension, the service of every military member whom they couldn’t personally thank. From the moment the book was published, Chris became the son, the brother, the nephew, the cousin, the kid down the street whom they couldn’t personally thank. In a way, his outstanding military record was beside the point-he was a living, breathing patriot who had done his duty and come home safe to his wife and kids. Thanking him was people’s way of thanking everyone in uniform. And, of course, the book was an interesting read. It quickly became a commercial success beyond anyone’s wildest dreams, including the publisher’s. The hardcover debuted at number two on the New York Times bestseller list, then rose to number one and stayed there for more than two months. It’s remained a fixture on the bestseller lists ever since, and has been translated into twenty-four languages worldwide. It was a good read, and it had a profound effect on a lot of people. A lot of the people who bought it weren’t big book readers, but they ended up engrossed. A friend of ours told us that he’d started reading the book one night while he was taking a bath with his wife. She left, went to bed, and fell asleep. She woke up at three or four and went into the bathroom. Her husband was still there, in the cold water, reading. The funny thing is, Chris still could not have cared less about all the sales. He’d done his assignment, turned it in, and got his grade. Done deal.

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You are familiar with The Decline of the West, in which Oswald Spengler takes note of the current decadence of painting, as well as literature and music, and concludes that the end of our cultural epoch has arrived. He is a philosopher, but one descended from the natural sciences. He arranges observations, he records insights and knowledge. He takes a graphic view of history. And if he sees that a line curves downward, he considers the trend a proven fact, so that zero must be reached at a particular time and place. And that moment represents the end, the decline of the West! "But his graphing has no bearing on any of my ideas and plans as architect and politician. I study the reasons why the line curves downward, and I try to remove the causes. But at the same time, I examine the reasons why at an earlier time the line curved upward! And then I set out to restore the conditions of that day, to awake anew the creative wall of that time, and to bring about a new crest in the constantly fluctuating curve of history. "No doubt about it! Our culture has entered on stagnation, it looks like old age. But the reasons for this state do not lie in the fact that it has genuinely passed its manhood, but rather that the upholders of this culture, the Germanic-European peoples, have neglected it and have turned their attention to material tasks, to technology, industry, to hunger for material possessions, to rapacity, and to an economic egocentrism that overwhelms everything else. All their thinking and striving reaches its only climax in account books and in the outward show of the worldly goods they possess. "I am overcome with disgust, a vexing scorn, when I see the way such people live and behave! [ . . . ] But thank God, it is only the top ten thousand who think along these lines. It is true that the whole of the bourgeoisie is already strongly infected and sickly. But bourgeois youth are still healthy and can be shown the way back to nature, to a higher development, to new cultural will, provided only that they do not become enmeshed in the treadmill of meaningless and wholly materialistic contemporary life, only to drown either in the cupidity of business or in the tedium of the middle-class workaday routine or in the corruption of the big city. “If we succeed in replacing the egocentric cupidity of business with a socialist communal wall and a work-affirming responsibility for the common-weal; in abolishing the tedium of middle-class workaday monotony by substituting for it the potential enjoyment of personal liberty, the beauty of nature, the splendor of our own Fatherland and the thousandfold diversity of the rest of the world; and if we put an end to the corruption of omnipresent degeneracy, bred in the warrens of buildings and on the asphalt streets of the cities of millions - then the road is clear to a new life, to a new creative will, to a new flight of the free, healthy spirit and mind. And then, my dear Herr Roselius, your bricks will form themselves into entirely new shapes all by themselves. Temples of life will be built, cathedrals of a higher cult will be raised, and even thousands of years later, the walls will bear witness to the exalted times out of which even more exalted ones were bom!” When Roselius had left Hitler’s room with me, he took my hand and said: “Wagener, I thank you for having made this hour possible. What a man! And how small we feel, concerned as we are with those things that preoccupy us! But now I know' what I have to do! In spite of my sixty years, I have only one goal: to join in the work of helping the young people and the German Volk to find internal and external freedom!

I’m pretty sure he plans on killing me anyway,” I said with a shrug. “At least if he kills me for this, it was for something that matters.” “I-” “Tell him I came here and spoke with you about Darius. Tell him I made some excuse to get you to leave the room and by the time you came back I’d done this. Put all the blame on me. I mean that.” “Okay…” she said hesitantly and I met her eye. “Do I need to make you swear it on the stars?” I growled. “No. I’ll tell him. Thank you, Roxanya.” “It’s Tory. Only Darius calls me Roxy and I can’t make him stop, but I don’t want anyone else making a habit of it,” I said. Although at this point if Darius started calling me Tory it would probably just be weird. Not that I’d ever admit that I was okay with the Roxy thing. “Okay. Thank you, Tory.” I smirked at her and hit post. Catalina gasped as Xavier’s secret went viral and I glanced down at my Atlas as reactions and comments began to pour in before I locked the screen. Shit, what if Daddy Acrux really does kill me for this? “Run, Tory,” Catalina breathed, real fear dancing in her eyes. “Run for the gate and get back to the academy before he comes back. If he finds you here-” “Consider me gone.” I barked a laugh as nerves made my heart flutter. Catalina smiled at me before ripping her dress off, knocking her hair free of its perfectly styled bun, flashing me those gloriously fake tits and leaping out of thewindow after her son. She transformed as she plummeted and my lips fell open as a stunning silver Dragon burst from her flesh. She beat a path up towards the clouds just as Xavier dipped beneath them with an excited whinny. I quickly raised my Atlas and snapped a picture of the two of them dancing through the sky before I took a running jump out of the window too. My wings burst to life at my back and I flew hard and fast along the drive until I soared over the gates, beyond the anti-stardust wards where I landed quickly, my boots skidding in the gravel. I grabbed the stardust from my pocket and winked at the startled guards half a second before I tossed it over my head and the stars whisked me back to the academy. I stumbled as they deposited me and suddenly strong arms locked around my chest from behind, making me scream in surprise. A hand slapped over my mouth and I stilled for a moment as the scent of smoke and cedar overwhelmed me. Darius dragged me back through the hole in the wards, pulled me through the fence and shoved me up against a huge tree at the edge of campus before he took his hand from my mouth. His hands landed either side of my head as he penned me in, glaring down at me with an angry as fuck Dragon peering out of his eyes, his pupils transformed into reptilian slits and a hint of smoke slipped between his lips. He was only wearing sweatpants and I got the impression he’d flown here to ambush me the moment I returned. I guess he didn’t like my FaeBook post. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he demanded. “Whoa, chill out dude,” I said, pressing my hands to his chest to push him back. He didn’t move a single inch and I just ended up with my hands pressed to his rock hard muscles, his heart pounding frantically beneath my right palm. “Do you know what you’ve done?” Darius snarled. “Father could kill Xavier for this! He could-” “He won’t,” I snapped angrily. “He can’t. Don’t you see that? The only power he held over Xavier was in keeping his real Order form a secret. Now everyone knows, he’s free. Killing him wouldn’t change the truth. And he can’t very well alienate every Pegasus in Solaria by making his Orderist bullshit public knowledge. He’ll have to let Xavier leave the house, join a herd, fly.” Darius was staring at me like he didn’t know whether to kill me or kiss me and as my gaze fell on his mouth, I found myself aching for the latter. Fuck the stars. (Tory POV)

She started coughing and water burst from her mouth like she’d been drowning. I pulled her forward, slapping her back to help her get it all up and the tremors rocking her body reverberated through mine as she pressed against my chest. More cold water flooded from her, drenching her as she cried out in panic and I pulled her against me more firmly. “You need to wake up,” I commanded. “I don’t want to die like this,” she breathed and my heart lurched as the ice thickened around us again. This wasn’t a dream she was having. It was a nightmare. And I got the sinking feeling that I knew exactly what it was about. The ice kept thickening and I was shivering now too. If she didn’t snap out of this soon she could really hurt herself and it would be my fucking fault. “Shit,” I breathed, taking her hand in mine and squeezing her cold fingers as I pushed my magic into hers. For once the well of her power didn’t burn with overwhelming magic and I thanked the stars that she’d obviously gotten through a good amount of her reserves today. The display she was currently putting on was clearly burning through her power and I’d only topped mine up after class so I was confident that I could wrangle hers under control. I pressed my magic into her body, expecting the fight she’d put up when we trained together but to my surprise, her power welcomed mine like greeting an old friend. The surge of excited energy I felt when power sharing with her zipped through me but this was even more intense than usual because she wanted it. On some base level, at this moment in time, she fully trusted me. I tried not to focus on how good that felt and shifted my attention to helping her reshape her magic instead. I had to fight to pull her away from her water magic which clearly wasn’t helping anything right now but she started to writhe in my arms, looking for an outlet for this panic that gripped her. My natural inclination was to encourage her towards fire but if she managed to overwhelm my control with that Element then it could be disastrous. I’d had a little practice with the other Heirs in power sharing and had managed to help them wield the Elements I didn’t possess more than once even though it wasn’t as easy. Essentially as I wasn’t the one shaping the power, it was doable, so all I had to do was encourage her towards it. I decided that Earth magic was probably the safest bet while she was so out of control and fought to push her towards that. My grip on her tightened and I ground my teeth as I twisted my power in the unnatural direction but all of a sudden, Roxy grabbed onto my suggestion and I felt the magic flooding from her. I opened my eyes, glancing around to find the entire Orb springing to life with flowers of every colour imaginable. (Darius)

Perhaps you are exhausted and overwhelmed by last night. And still recovering from your chill.” “No, no . . . I am perfectly well, thank you,” Anna said firmly. “Perhaps you are missing your family?” “Yes, yes, I am. And the fresh air of the country. I . . . think I want to go back home to Heddal,” she whispered. “There, there, my dear. I understand. It is always the same for those of us who come from the country to the city. And the life you lead is a lonely one.” “Do you miss your family?” Anna asked her. “Not any longer, because I have grown used to it, but to begin with, I was very unhappy. My first employer was a mean-spirited woman who treated me and the other maids worse than her dogs. Twice I ran away, but I was found and brought back.

A PRAYER FOR MENTAL HEALTH Father God we come before you in the name of Jesus. We ask you Lord to silence every single voice of the enemy says we are good for nothing, we will never amount anything in life and we are total failures. Help us to remember Your plans for us are to prosper us and not to harm us, plans to give us hope and future(Jeremiah 29:11). When our minds are galloping with panic and anxiety Help us to remember that we are loved and fill us with Your peace that surpasses all understanding. When our tears streaming down our faces uncontrollable in despair and depression. Help us to remember that You are the God who is able to wipe the tears away and You are able to fill us Your joy that able us to be calm and strong . When we hide ourselves from the world in fear Help us to take refuge in You Lord Jesus. When we are overwhelmed by sickness, diseases and viruses Help us to remember that You are the God who heals all diseases. When we lose hope and give up life Help us to remember that You always with us and we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us. Thank you Lord, deliver us from the evil and fill our minds and our hearts grace and praises in the mighty name of Jesus amen.

You’re delicious.” He smacks my ass again, a period to end his sentence. “I’ll never stop eating you out. Ever.” “Thank you.” I sigh. I’m overwhelmed, turned on, and am so fucking grateful for him. “Thank me when my cock is buried deep inside you.

My heart keeps a register of your overwhelming support. It is a humbling experience to know that my words make an impact in people's lives. I thank you all, always.

Seriously, thank you. I had no idea what I was going to do. My panic and stress were overwhelming any creativity sense I have.

At the station, Jean-Luc bangs the rooftop as a thank-you. I wave to him, then drive the few blocks to my new place of work. The excitement I feel as I stride away from my car is almost overwhelming. Things can change for the better as well as for the worse. Who would have foreseen, a mere few months ago, that I would find myself back in my home city, with a fine young man in my care, working for the Hillary for America campaign? President Hillary Clinton! Mr. Godwin Anibal! There is so much to look forward to.

Lord, we thank You for Your great love and tender mercies. How awesome You are. We worship You in spirit and truth. In Your amazing grace, You love all of us equally and intimately, regardless of the color of our skin, our gender, the language we speak, or the country in which we live. You, Lord, desire that each of us, as Your unique creation, will come to know You in a saving relationship. You have paid the ultimate price in sacrificing Your only Son, Jesus, to restore fellowship with us that was broken through our sins, and You continue to reach us with unrestrained boundaries today. You use Your amazing Word to transform lives. May each man and woman who picks up this book be overwhelmed by You. We ask You to break their hearts for the 1.5 billion Muslims who desperately need Jesus. We ask You to call followers of Jesus everywhere to action. Thank You for opening the hearts and minds of Muslims through dreams and visions that set them on a path to Jesus. We pray that Your Spirit and presence will continue to draw people in the Islamic world to You. And give strength to those who respond to your call. In the name of Jesus, amen.

A Prayer about God’s Goodness and Nearness in the Storm But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.” (Isa. 43:1–3) Heavenly Father, your Word is a balm for the broken, ballast for the bewildered, and bread for the hungry. This is not theory. It’s not even just good theology. It’s my reality and I praise you. You’ve promised to show up, and you have. Thank you for being the Father from whom all fatherhood derives its name and meaning. No god is as near as you and no god is as good, in every season and storm. The aroma of fresh gospel bread is wafting through the air. You’ve created us and you are redeeming us, all for your glory. You’ve summoned us by name, calling us to life in the gospel. You’ve given us a new name, “Mine.” There’s no sweeter name. Father, you don’t promise we won’t experience floods and torrents and fires and flames. But you do promise you will be with us. To know you are near and to know you are good is all we really need. We will go anywhere and do anything as long as we are convinced that you will never leave us, forsake us, abandon us, shame us, or reject us. Father, we know ourselves to be precious and honored in your sight, and greatly loved, because you gave Jesus in exchange for us. Though Jesus was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor, so that through his poverty we might become rich (2 Cor. 8:9). We praise you for the one and only truly indescribable gift (2 Cor. 9:15)! And since you didn’t spare your own Son, we can trust you graciously to give us everything else we need (Rom. 8:32), for every season and storm ahead. We don’t have to be afraid of anything or anyone. You are with us and you are for us. Continue to write bigger and better stories of reconciliation and restoration than we ourselves would ever choose to pen. We pray to the glory of the true Peacemaker, Jesus. Amen.

In the same way, you have to stop loving and pursuing Christ in order to sin. When you are pursuing love, running toward Christ, you do not have opportunity to wonder, Am I doing this right? or Did I serve enough this week? When you are running toward Christ, you are freed up to serve, love, and give thanks without guilt, worry, or fear. As long as you are running, you are safe.

On Friday, 3 December1993, at a charity luncheon in aid of the Headway National Head Injuries Association, the Princess announced her withdrawal from public life. In a sometimes quavering, yet defiant, voice she appealed for ‘time and space’ after more than a decade in the spotlight. During her five-minute speech she made a particular point of the unrelenting media exposure: ‘When I started my public life 12 years ago, I understood that the media might be interested in what I did. I realized then that their attention would inevitably focus on both our private and public lives. But I was not aware of how overwhelming that attention would become; nor the extent to which it would affect both my public duties and my personal life, in a manner that has been hard to bear.’ As she later said: ‘The pressure was intolerable then, and my job, my work was being affected. I wanted to give 110 per cent to my work, and I could only give 50…I owed it to the public to say “Thank you, I’m disappearing for a bit, but I’ll come back.”’ Indicating that she would continue to support a small number of charities while she set about rebuilding her private life, the Princess emphasized: ‘My first priority will continue to be our children, William and Harry, who deserve as much love, care and attention as I am able to give, as well as an appreciation of the tradition into which they were born.’ While she singled out the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh for their ‘kindness and support’, Diana never once mentioned her estranged husband. In private, she was unequivocal about where the blame lay for her departure from the stage. ‘My husband’s side have made my life hell for the last year,’ she told a friend. When she reached the relative sanctuary of Kensington Palace that afternoon, Diana was relieved, saddened but quietly elated. Her retirement would give her a much-needed chance to reflect and refocus. If the separation had brought her the hope of a new life, her withdrawal from royal duties would give her the opportunity to translate that hope into a vibrant new career, one that would employ to the full her undoubted gifts of compassion and caring on a wider, international stage. A few months later, at a reception at the Serpentine Gallery, of which she was patron, the Princess was in fine form. She was relaxed, witty and happy among friends. The events of 1993 seemed a dim and dismal memory. As she chatted to the movie star Jeremy Irons he told her: ‘I’ve taken a year off acting.’ Diana smiled and replied: ‘So have I.

God has also come through for my clients directly—though one time, He made Himself known in a way that I couldn’t understand at first. I didn’t know anything about the woman I was reading, and she had a quiet demeanor so we didn’t really talk much before. One of the first things I said to her was, “There’s a husband energy here. Did you lose your spouse?” She told me she never married, so I moved on, but this husband figure wouldn’t leave me alone—he even kept showing me a plain, gold wedding band. I passed, and we moved on to other messages, including how she has a spiritual gift like mine. Then during the last fifteen minutes of her reading, I felt a tremendous sense of peace and saw the overwhelming white light with golden edges that always bowls me over. “Call me crazy, but I feel God is present,” I said. I felt different from when I channel a normal husband energy; it felt higher than your loved ones, higher than a guide or angel. God said to tell her, “Thank you for doing my work.” The woman thanked me for the reading, and I didn’t think about it too much after that. Cut to a few months later, and I was about to read another client when she said, “I heard you gave Sister Mary Catherine the most amazing reading.” I was like, Sister Mary who? Apparently, the first woman was a nun—with psychic abilities, no less—but more than anything, the husband energy now made sense! At first, it didn’t feel like God because Spirit makes me feel the bond that the person shares with the soul, but nuns believe they are married to Christ. Plus, He showed me the wedding band. But when we didn’t connect with that, God made Himself a lot more obvious! Sheesh, talk about a blond moment on my part.

You are my blood mate,” he says simply, finding my hand and squeezing it with his own. “I would die for you.” Gah! A little warning before the touching would be nice. Mainly so I can resist the overwhelming urge to morph into a jiggly pile of Jell-O, thank you very much. “You’d … die… for me?”” I manage to choke out. I’ve got to lighten the mood here. “Technically aren’t you already dead?

Qualcomm is putting these sensor clips on all forty-eight buildings in San Diego. Suddenly the building maintenance guys “got converted to data engineers, which is exciting for them,” added Tipirneni. They made sure the data was “distilled in a way that is easy for them to understand and be actionable. In the old days, when a facilities manager looked at a building, he would say: “If there is a leak someone will call me or I will see it.” They were reactive. Now, says Tipirneni, “We trained them to look at signals and data that will point them to a leak before it happens and causes destruction. They did not know what data to look at, so our challenge was [to] make sensor data easy for them to make sense of, so we don’t overwhelm them with too much data and just say ‘You figure it out.’ Our goal was, ‘We will give you information you can use.

I know you are feeling overworked and overwhelmed so please feel free to take a seat and relax and collect your thoughts and I will try to find some time to help you deal with your problem. In the meantime, if you do find something to do, please feel free to do so. My time is limited as is yours but I will try to find the time to discuss this stressful matter with you. But in consideration, tough shit; I’m busy if you haven’t noticed. Someone has got to get the work done while you’re sitting around on your fat, lazy, whining, unionized ass taking it easy. And sorry, I do not wish to have the time to sit around and bitch about how busy I am. I have too much to do and too many deadlines to have the time for that kind of bullshit. Thank you for your patience in this matter. Have a happy : ) , sincerely, The Office Staff.

His morose voice broke her heart. Ana took the offered flowers and wrapped them in a silk handkerchief, too overwhelmed by emotions to offer more than a choked, “Thank you.

Tessla? Are you all right?” “He’s sick,” I choke out, the floodgates suddenly flung wide open, a storm of emotion coursing through me. “Wren’s sick. He’s been sick a long time.” “I know,” Vale says. He sets the cat down and looks at me closely. “The Red Grippe. I left orders for my family’s physician to tend to him. Fain will make sure he’s given Obsythian tonic this week.” All the blood drains from my face, and I stagger down until I’m sitting on the floor. He’ll be cured of it. Just like that. He’ll live. “Tessla?” I bring my hand to my eyes, overtaken by a staggering relief. “Oh, Ancient One. Vale. Thank you so much. Oh, Ancient One. Thank you.” “We’re fasted, Tessla,” he says, his voice low and gentle, tinged with confusion. “Of course I’d do anything for you.” His noble sentiment and kindness send shockwaves through me. I cry hot tears of overwhelming gratitude into my hand.

Do you have your keys?” Kerry abruptly asked. Hannah looked surprised, then alarmed. “Kerry, don’t go and do--” “I just need to take a drive. Clear my head. Think. Cooper is in his element here and likely will be for a good long while. If he asks--” “If?” Hannah said, lawyering up again, clearly not on board with Kerry’s sudden wild hare. “If he asks,” Kerry repeated evenly, “tell him I’ve gone for a drive and will be back for dinner.” She looked Hannah square in the eyes. “I promise. I just need some space. I have a lot to think about.” “It doesn’t all need thinking out today,” Hannah reminded her. “If I don’t get a handle on it now, it’s only going to pile on and be that much more complicated and confusing. I don’t want to get pushed or overwhelmed and do something I’ll regret.” She took the keys Hannah begrudgingly handed her. “Thank you. I won’t put a scratch on her, I swear.” “It’s not her getting banged up I’m worried about,” Hannah said. Kerry impulsively pulled her sister in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For loving me despite what a confusing pain in the ass I can be.” Hannah hugged her back, then let her go. “I do love you,” she said to Kerry’s retreating back. “But if you’re not here by dinner, I’m going to tell Cooper to run, run fast.” Kerry tossed a smile over her shoulder. “Good luck with that. I already tried.

Why should husbands love their wives as their own bodies? Because that is what Christ does for us. He “nourishes and cherishes” us “because we are members of his body.” Don’t miss that! Jesus cares for me like I care for my own body! Soak that in. Do you believe it? Do you believe the Son of God cares for you like a member of His body? You should be overwhelmed with joy right now! Take some time to dwell on this and to thank God for this amazing truth.

I heard the squirt of lube as he lay behind me. My breathing was getting heavy, both from nerves and excitement. I was about to let a man go where no one ever had before. Max pressed his lube-slicked tip against my hole. I closed my eyes, then opened them again. Not sure which I wanted to do. Then he breached me, his cock slid inside me. The sting was ten times as strong, followed by a burning sensation that had my toes curling. I gasped, reached back to hold onto him, and let out a groan. He slowly thrust forward, taking his time. Inch by inch, he entered my ass as I squirmed and let out grunting sounds. I don’t know how he kept his composure. “So tight,” he whispered. “Max.” It felt so good, the slight pain followed by the burst of pleasure. He held my hips, shifting forward still, filling me until I thought I might scream. I slammed my hand on the floor, overwhelmed. I needed to come, but I wanted this to last. “Max.” “Shh.” He started to pull out. I felt a sense of emptiness just then, a loneliness that seeped from my bones. He pushed back inside and I started chanting his name. I couldn’t stop. My brain wasn’t functioning right as Max glided inside me again. His fingers dug into my hip. Blond hair tickled my back. He nipped my shoulder, then kissed the sting. “Elric. Oh, fuck. Elric.” He was moving faster now, but never really pounding. I realized he was being gentle with me. He was making my first time good. It made me smile into the darkness. “Almost, baby. Almost.” He kissed my shoulder again, his length skating in and out, thanks to abundant amounts of lube. He fit perfectly despite being so large. “So good. So. Fucking… Elric!” He shouted my name and gave a hard thrust. I clenched; the pain was a bit intense on that one, but I held my tongue and let him come for as long as he could. I listened to the way he groaned and his soft moan as his orgasm finished. Max eased his grip and slowly pulled his spent cock out of my ass. He fell to his back with a grunt and a sigh. Well, now there was a new pain. I winced and lay on my back beside him. “What’d you think?” He glanced at me. “I think … I’ve been missing out.

The sudden and massive influx of refugees from Africa and the Middle East has overwhelmed the absorptive capacity of the European Union and triggered a populist-nationalist backlash, while also prompting the EU to start limiting its policy of free movement of people between countries. The June 2016 British vote to withdraw from the EU was driven in no small degree by anti-immigration sentiment. And

Beckett smiled and took the microphone right out of the blonde’s hands, all Kanye West style. She couldn’t help but smile back. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he told her. “You’re doing great. Are we live?” She nodded, shocked. He turned to the camera. “Good. My people—and you motherfuckers know who you are—right now, in this moment, we are being attacked. This is not random violence, but a planned terror attack intended to bring this city to our fucking knees. Our police force and firefighters are heroes and are totally overwhelmed right now. So that leaves us. Me and you bastards. I’m asking you not to hide inside. Do not turn into pants-crapping cowards. I want you to stand with me. Use whatever skills you have at your disposal if you see shit going down that you can stop.” G licked Beckett. “I’m asking you to step up and help me. Right now, help our motherfucking town. Our goal is this and only this: Saving Poughkeepsie.

It's overwhelming how many people are suffering, with hardened hearts. I thank God every day for softening my heart to love myself and others. I can tell you that living a life of hate does nothing but waste your life. Learning to live a life with gratitude, love and a willingness to help where you can, will make you come alive!

The heavenly principalities and powers cannot touch you. But the earthly humans over which we rule can.” Though they had no authority to touch Yahweh’s anointed, they might do so through their human vessels. Jesus trembled with the weight of responsibility that now overwhelmed him. But the pain was lessened when he heard the familiar sound of his favorite angel echo in his mind. Jesus, be strong and courageous. “Jesus, be strong and courageous.” It wasn’t in his mind, it was being spoken to him from behind. “Sound familiar?” Jesus turned. He looked up into the smiling face of Uriel the smallest of three angels now standing before him. Uriel finished his thought, “The words you spoke to Joshua at the threshold of the Promised Land. Funny how it all comes full circle.” Gabriel, the second angel, and Uriel’s constant bickering companion, responded, “Uriel, I think your humor is once again in incredibly poor taste considering his suffering. Where is your compassion?” “Nonsense,” said Uriel. “Jesus has done it. Victory is a cause for celebration, not sadness. He made it forty days without food, which is more than I can say for you, chubby.” Uriel patted Gabriel’s stomach. Gabriel moved away annoyed at the jab. Sure, he was heavier than the lightweight Uriel, but he certainly didn’t see himself as “chubby.” Mikael, the largest and best groomed of the three, was the guardian prince of Israel, and tended to be protective of his ward. He offered a wineskin to Jesus, who took it and gulped with gratitude. After a moment of silence, Jesus wiped his beard of the wine and said, “You need a better sense of humor, Gabriel.” Gabriel pouted with frustration at being ganged up on. Uriel, his perpetual nemesis was one thing. But being teased by the Master was quite another. Jesus said, “And Uriel, you had better deliver on that bread you promised.” Uriel smiled again and held out a loaf of Mary’s best bread. “Baked two hours ago by your mother.” Jesus grabbed it. Mikael said, “Remember, do not eat too quickly. It is bad for your digestion after fasting.” “Thank you for your ministering spirits,” said Jesus, and took a big hungry bite out of the loaf. Uriel muttered, “Your mother should open a bakery. Can I have a bite?” Mikael was not so lighthearted. He knew that the challenge had been declared. The road to war had begun.

Tania,” Alexander said amiably, “I promise, I will just feed you and send you home. Let me feed you, all right?” Holding the bags in one hand, he placed the other hand on her hair. “It’s for your birthday. Come on.” She couldn’t go, and she knew it. Did Alexander know it, too? That was even worse. Did he know what a bind she found herself in, what unspeakable flux of feeling and confusion? They crossed the Field of Mars on their way to the Summer Garden. Down the street the river Neva glowed in the sunlight, though it was nearly nine o’clock in the evening. The Summer Garden was the wrong place for them. Alexander and Tatiana couldn’t find an empty bench amid the long paths, the Greek statues, the towering elms, and the intertwined lovers, like tangled rose branches all. As they walked, her head was lowered. They finally found a spot near the statue of Saturn. It was not the ideal place for them to sit, Tatiana thought, since Saturn’s mouth was wide open and he was stuffing a child into it with derelict zeal. Alexander had brought a little vodka and some bologna ham and some white bread. He had also brought a jar of black caviar and a bar of chocolate. Tatiana was quite hungry. Alexander told her to have all the caviar. She protested at first, but not vigorously. After she had eaten more than half, scooping the caviar out with the small spoon he had brought, she handed him the rest. “Please,” she said, “finish it. I insist.” She had a gulp of vodka straight from the bottle and shuddered involuntarily; she hated vodka but didn’t want him to know what a baby she was. Alexander laughed at her shuddering, taking the bottle from her and having a swig. “Listen, you don’t have to drink it. I brought it to celebrate your birthday. Forgot the glasses, though.” He was spread out all over the bench and sitting conspicuously close. If she breathed, a part of her would touch a part of him. Tatiana was too overwhelmed to speak, as her intense feelings dropped into the brightly lit well inside her. “Tania?” Alexander asked gently. “Tania, is the food all right?” “Yes, fine.” After a small throat clearing, she said, “I mean, it’s very nice, thank you.

God ’s Joyful Love The Lord your God is in the midst of you, a Mighty One, a Savior [Who saves]! He will rejoice over you with joy; He will rest [in silent satisfaction] and in His love He will be silent and make no mention [of past sins, or even recall them]; He will exult over you with singing. ZEPHANIAH 3:17 AMP The first time a mom holds her newborn, a grandmother holds her grandchild, or an aunt holds her newborn niece or nephew, their hearts fill up with overwhelming love for that child. You look into the baby’s eyes, check all the fingers and toes, and marvel over the perfection of this child. You can’t imagine anything they do or say as the child grows up will lessen the love you have for him or her. This scenario is just a tiny glimpse into how much God loves His children. Paul wrote in Romans 8: “I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord” (vv. 38–39 NLT). Zephaniah says that God’s love for His child is so overwhelming that He breaks into singing. Music is a spontaneous expression of many emotions, but especially love. Father, thank You for Your arms of love holding me close to Your heart.

In the same way, you have to stop loving and pursuing Christ in order to sin. When you are pursuing love, running toward Christ, you do not have opportunity to wonder, Am I doing this right? or Did I serve enough this week? When you are running toward Christ, you are freed up to serve, love, and give thanks without guilt, worry, or fear. As long as you are running, you are safe. But running is exhausting—if, that is, we are running from sin or guilt, out of fear. (Or if we haven’t run in a while.) However, if we train ourselves to run toward our Refuge, toward Love, we are free—just as we are called to be.

Patience A word so difficult to pronounce because it is so difficult to wait or to be patient. But no matter how someone is behaving, appreciate the grace you have for God to give you people that will build that character in you!! It isn't easy but for the Christ like being, it is joy overwhelming. Thank and praise God for every situations that require you to be patient. God bless you.

Thank you for the overwhelming support to novel. NIRVANA 2020 Authors-Suryanarayana&Janaki

We had been looking at some land adjoining the zoo and decided to purchase it in order to expand. There was a small house on the new property, nothing too grand, just a modest home built of brick, with three bedrooms and one bathroom. We liked the seclusion of the place most of all. The builder had tucked it in behind a macadamia orchard, but it was still right next door to the zoo. We could be part of the zoo yet apart from it at the same time. Perfect. “Make this house exactly the way you want it,” Steve told me. “This is going to be our home.” He dedicated himself to getting us moved in. I knew this would be our last stop. We wouldn’t be moving again. We laid new carpet and linoleum and installed reverse-cycle air-conditioning and heat. Ah, the luxury of having a climate-controlled house. I installed stained-glass windows in the bathroom with wildlife-themed panes, featuring a jabiru, a crocodile, and a big goanna. We also used wildlife tiles throughout, of dingoes, whales, and kangaroos. We made the house our own. We worked on the exterior grounds as well. Steve transplanted palm trees from his parents’ place on the Queensland coast and erected fences for privacy. He designed a circular driveway. As he laid the concrete, he put his own footprints and handprints in the wet cement. Then he ran into the house to fetch Bindi and me. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s all do it.” We grabbed Sui, too, and put her paw prints in, and then did Bindi, who was just eight months old. It took a couple of tries, but we got her handprints and her footprints as well, and then my own. We stood back and admired the time capsule we had created. That afternoon the rains came. The Sunshine Coast is usually bright and dry, but when it rains, the heavens open. We worried about all the concrete we had worked on getting pitted and ruined. “Get something,” Steve shouted, scrambling to gather up his tools. I ran into the house. I couldn’t find a plastic drop cloth quickly enough, so I grabbed one of my best sheets off the bed. As I watched the linen turn muddy and gray in the rain, I consoled myself. In the future I won’t care that I ruined the sheet, I thought. I’ll just be thankful that I preserved our footprints and handprints. “It’s our cave,” Steve said of our new home. We never entertained. The zoo was our social place. Living so close by, we could have easily gotten overwhelmed, so we made it a practice never to have people over. It wasn’t unfriendliness, it was simple self-preservation. Our brick residence was for our family: Steve and me, Bindi, Sui, and Shasta.

We drove into the Cradle Mountain resort still munching on raspberries. Emma and Kate waited with the kids in the car. “I’ll just be a minute,” I said. “I’ll check in and we’ll head to our rooms.” The currawongs were calling, and a padymelon, a small version of a roo, hopped off a wall just at the edge of the car park as I went in. “Where’s all the snow?” I asked the woman behind the desk. “It snowed this morning,” she said. “Well, good,” I said. “There’s hope.” Then she passed me a note. She said, “Frank called from the zoo.” “I’m not surprised,” I said. “I haven’t called the zoo all day, and Frank is always trying to track me down.” “Why don’t you come take the call in the office?” she said. I thought that was a little odd, since when I had been there before I’d always used the pay phone near the pub at the resort. But I entered the office and sat down in a big, comfortable chair. I could see the car park out the window. Emma and Kate were still out at the car. Robert had fallen asleep, and Kate sat inside with him. Bindi smiled and laughed with Emma. “How you going, Frank?” I said into the phone. He said, “Hi, Terri. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for a while.” His voice had a heavy, serious tone. “Well, I’ve just got here,” I said. “Sorry about that, but I’m here now. What’s up?” “I’m sorry to say that Steve had a bit of an accident while he was diving,” Frank said. “I’m afraid he got hit in the chest by a stingray’s barb.” I’m sure there wasn’t much of a pause, but I felt time stop. I knew what Frank was going to say next. I just kept repeating the same thing over and over in my head. Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it. Then Frank said the three words I did not want him to say, “And he died.” I took a deep breath and looked out the window. There was Bindi, so happy to have finally arrived at one of her favorite places. We were going to have fun. She had brought her teacher and Kate. She was so excited. And the world stopped. I took another breath. “Thank you very much for calling, Frank,” I said. I didn’t know what I was saying. I was overwhelmed, already on autopilot. “You need to cancel the rest of our trip, you need to contact my family in Oregon, and you need to get us home.” So it began.

Uh, Jill?” Rowan interrupted. He stood in the bathroom doorway. His pants were on, but a crisp white shirt hung open, revealing his taut abdominal muscles. “Can you button my shirt? I can do it, but—” “Sure.” Jill didn’t let him finish. He had no need to be embarrassed. Most of the time, she forgot Rowan operated with a big handicap. He was so strong and capable; it was hard to think of him not being good at anything. She stepped over to him, and found the first button, starting with the top. “Get the very top one,” he said. “I’m wearing a tie. And I’ll need your help with that too if you know how to tie a tie.” “No problem.” She shut her mouth and concentrated on closing his buttons without running her fingers against his skin. She was on button number four when her vision started wavering from arousal. The steamy heat of the bathroom and Rowan’s nearness made her whole body tighten with need. She wasn’t alone feeling it. As she hit the final bottom button, it was impossible to miss his erection jutting from his unbuttoned dress pants. She said nothing but stepped back when she finished. “Thanks,” he said, and started to turn away to tuck his shirt in. Something crazy inside her dared her to step forward and reach for his zipper. There was shocked silence from both of them. “I’ll tuck you in,” she murmured. Only the sound of them breathing could be heard as she carefully lowered his zipper and pushed the white dress shirt into his trousers. Her palm rubbed his body with each tuck. She started at her right, his left, and worked her away around until she came to the front. “I’ll do that,” he said in a strangled voice. She met his gaze for the first time. “Let me?” He didn’t answer but dropped his arm and stood passively letting her caress his cock under the guise of tucking his shirt. His body swelled under her hand, and she wanted to squeeze him and reach behind the elastic of his underwear to feel his hot flesh. “Jill.” “Mm?” “You have to stop.” She froze with her hand in place. His arousal pulsed against her hand. “I’m sorry.” She yanked her hand free and tried to turn away, but he spun her back and pinned her against the sink counter with a fierce kiss. She welcomed his body, pushing back against him, undulating against his hips which sought hers. The kiss overwhelmed her and she strained to capture more of his mouth, more of his body. She forgot where she was and where they were going. Anything he asked for, she was ready to give. And then he pulled back. Cold air slapped at her front where he’d warmed her. “Brother’s wedding,” he muttered. “Can’t miss it.” He helped her off the sink, and in a daze she turned to the mirror to fix her hair and makeup. “Got your lipstick on me,” Rowan said. She looked in the mirror at his reflection. “I like it.” A pink stain was smudged on one side of his lips. Lips she wanted to keep kissing. “Let’s get my tie, then we gotta go.

I walked out onto the stage and I started telling the tale of the “Untold Story of the Origin of Zombies.” And it went like this: Where do Zombies come from? Not many people know. But after some extensive investigative Zombie journalism, we’ve discovered the truth. It all began when the human government decided that they wanted to create stronger soldiers. They had lost too many battles, and now they wanted to win every war that they fought. So they approached some soldiers in their army to join a special secret project. The only requirement was that the soldiers they chose had no living relatives. This way, no one could claim their bodies in case something went wrong. So, they exposed these soldiers to an experimental virus to enhance their abilities and make them into super soldiers. The experiment seemed to be working. But then, something terrible happened... The soldiers went crazy, and they were horribly disfigured. Ultimately, the experiment claimed their lives. But, when the soldiers were being prepared for burial, they suddenly came to life. They were not only walking, but they had enhanced strength, enhanced sense of smell and enhanced hearing. They attacked the soldiers in charge of burying them. And the recently bitten soldiers also transformed into the living dead. Before long, the entire army base was contaminated with the virus. Once everyone in the base was exposed, the virus mutated and the soldiers began having an overwhelming craving for something warm and mushy. They longed for brains! Soon, the army of the living dead found their way to the next unsuspecting town in search of brains. They attacked that town, biting anything that moved both human and animal. Soon that town was overrun. The virus spread from town to town, and city to city, until the entire world was contaminated. It was the first Zombie Apocalypse. After hundreds of years had passed, the Zombies started to evolve and began developing intelligent thoughts. They began forming villages, and then towns, and then entire cities of Zombies were created. The Zombies made great advances in health and science, and became highly advanced technologically. But, eventually the Zombies’ appetite for brains and warm flesh gave way to an even greater craving... The craving for CAKE! Their overwhelming desire for cake resulted in an explosive rise in the baking industry. Cake shops began springing up on every corner of every Zombie city street. They just couldn’t get enough! The human race began growing again, too. Human villages of farmers and miners began springing up. And because the Zombies were a peaceful race, they coexisted with the humans by staying away from them. But soon, the Zombie’s resources began to become scarce, especially the cake. So Zombies began scaring villagers in order to get the supplies they needed, especially the highly valued resource of cake. Now Zombies send their kids to Scare School to train their children from a very young age. They train them on how to effectively scare humans in order to get their needed supplies, especially cake. And so it has been until today. Thank you.

When they reached the top level, Susan turned to the left. The corridor had raised wallpaper in a classic floral design and nothing else. No small tables, no chairs, no pictures in frames, no Oriental runners. They passed by maybe a dozen rooms, only two with doors open. Myron noticed that the doors were extra wide and he remembered his visit to Babies and Children’s Hospital. Extra wide doors there too. For wheelchairs and stretchers and the like. When they reached the end of the corridor, Susan stopped, took a deep breath, looked back at Myron. “Are you ready?” He nodded. She opened the door and stepped inside. Myron followed. A four-poster antique bed, like something you’d see on a tour of Jefferson’s Monticello, overwhelmed the room. The walls were warm green with woodwork trim. There was a small crystal chandelier, a burgundy Victorian couch, a Persian rug with deep scarlets. A Mozart violin concerto was playing a bit too loudly on the stereo. A woman sat in the corner reading a book. She too started upright when she saw who it was. “It’s okay,” Susan Lex said. “Would you mind leaving us for a few moments?” “Yes, ma’am,” the woman said. “If you need anything—” “I’ll ring, thank you.” The woman did a semi-curtsy/semi-bow and hurried out. Myron looked at the man in the bed. The resemblance to the computer rendering was uncanny, almost perfect. Even, strangely enough, the dead eyes. Myron moved closer. Dennis Lex followed him with the dead eyes, unfocused, empty, like windows over a vacant lot.

How to Start Blog and Make Passive Income from It If this is your first time on this site, we would like to welcome you. For those of you who are returning visitors, thank you for coming back. We appreciate your support and the trust that you’ve put in us. Today, we’ll be showing you how to start making passive income blogging. The concept of making money from a blog can be a little overwhelming if you are new to it.

Because feedback givers are abundant and our shortcomings seemingly boundless, we imagine that feedback can trigger us in a googolplex of ways. But here’s more good news: There are only three. We call them “Truth Triggers,” “Relationship Triggers,” and “Identity Triggers.” Each is set off for different reasons, and each provokes a different set of reactions and responses from us. Truth Triggers are set off by the substance of the feedback itself—it’s somehow off, unhelpful, or simply untrue. In response, we feel indignant, wronged, and exasperated. Miriam experiences a truth trigger when her husband tells her she was “unfriendly and aloof” at his nephew’s bar mitzvah. “Unfriendly? Was I supposed to get up on the table and tap dance?” This feedback is ridiculous. It is just plain wrong. Relationship Triggers are tripped by the particular person who is giving us this gift of feedback. All feedback is colored by the relationship between giver and receiver, and we can have reactions based on what we believe about the giver (they’ve got no credibility on this topic!) or how we feel treated by the giver (after all I’ve done for you, I get this kind of petty criticism?). Our focus shifts from the feedback itself to the audacity of the person delivering it (are they malicious or just stupid?). By contrast, Identity Triggers focus neither on the feedback nor on the person offering it. Identity triggers are all about us. Whether the feedback is right or wrong, wise or witless, something about it has caused our identity—our sense of who we are—to come undone. We feel overwhelmed, threatened, ashamed, or off balance. We’re suddenly unsure what to think about ourselves, and question what we stand for. When we’re in this state, the past can look damning and the future bleak. That’s the identity trigger talking, and once it gets tripped, a nuanced discussion of our strengths and weaknesses is not in the cards. We’re just trying to survive.

And it was hard to get through, hard not to let that emotion completely overwhelm you because, in between all the firemen at the front, they had some of the children of the guys who hadn’t made it out. They were wearing their dads’ helmets.

Excellent. I stopped you to tell you that not all mobs are willing to go along with the insane invasion of the Overworld. We have formed our own guerilla army. We call ourselves the Children of Zeke.” I was overwhelmed with pride. Otis, however, groaned and made loud noises pretending he was being violently ill and vomiting. “Ignore him,” I said. “What is your group doing?” “So far, nothing,” Skulls sighed. “But, we are organizing and stockpiling weapons in the hope that we can lead a rebellion one day.” “Excellent,” I said. “I had better get going,” said Skulls. “It is not wise to stay in one place for very long.” “Thank you. If you ever find yourself in the Overworld, be sure to stop by my house,” I said. Skulls nodded, glanced around the area, and then quickly walked away. Once he was out of sight, Heidi said, “You think he was telling the truth?” “I do.” “I think the Children of Zeke sounds amazing,” said Harold. “Amazingly stupid,” said Otis. “Come on, let’s go,” said Trevor. “Skulls was right about one thing, we shouldn’t stay in one place for too long.” Chapter 18 We followed Trevor along the edge between the basalt delta and adjoining crimson forest biomes, trying to stay hidden on the stable forest ground as much as possible. “How much farther until we can see the nether fortress?” asked Heidi. “We should enter the nether wastes biome in a few minutes, so I’d say we’re about fifteen minutes away from being able to see the fortress.” “Good,” said Otis. “I feel the need to make something bleed.” I shook my head. “You need to dial it down a bit.” “Never.” I hoped Trevor knew where he was going. The fog of both biomes mixed together and made visibility difficult. And that was our mistake. Suddenly, a horde of more than a dozen piglins and zombified piglins jumped from behind the trunks of several large crimson fungi

Did you like that little spell?” Storm nodded dutifully. “Yes. Thank you, Master. It was—” Overwhelming. Terrifying. Horrible. “Amazing. I’ve never felt anything like it.

Kiss me.” That’s her saying it, not me.  “Go on a date with me.”  I feel her chest rise with a deep inhale. “Take me home with you.” I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but instead of saying yes, I plead, “Go on a date with me.”  “Zee.” She pulls back, and just like that, the song is over as well as the night. Immediately I’m swarmed with people, shaking my hand, saying good night. It’s overwhelming, to say the least, but all I want is a different answer from the girl who seems to be drifting further away from me as tonight’s guests bombard my space. My gaze continues to flicker to the beauty in blue, but eventually, my attention is pulled to the mass of people I have to thank for coming out tonight. And when I look back to where she was standing, she’s gone.

Thank you. For this, but also for being you. I can see why Oakley has fallen for you.” The sincerity in her eyes is a bit overwhelming.

The same self-defeating pattern applies to many of our attempts to become more productive at work. A few years ago, drowning in email, I successfully implemented the system known as Inbox Zero, but I soon discovered that when you get tremendously efficient at answering email, all that happens is that you get much more email. Feeling busier—thanks to all that email—I bought Getting Things Done, by the time management guru David Allen, lured by his promise that it is “possible for a person to have an overwhelming number of things to do and still function productively with a clear head” and “what the martial artists call a ‘mind like water.’ ” But I failed to appreciate Allen’s deeper implication—that there’ll always be too much to do—and instead set about attempting to get an impossible amount done. In fact, I did get better at racing through my to-do list, only to find that greater volumes of work magically started to appear. (Actually, it’s not magic; it’s simple psychology, plus capitalism. More on that later.)

It is not to be without emotion or feeling but to be one in whom feeling is not sticky or blocked.” It is not to deny or bury or go around your feelings or your thoughts about those feelings. It is to feel them, acknowledge them, and work with them—to understand what they are trying to tell you about you, about the situation—to let them show you where there is more work to be done without letting them overwhelm, unbalance, or trap you. They have information for you. Take the information, say thank you, and keep going.

I beat you fair and square," Kurda said evenly. "There's no rule against faking injury. You shouldn't have leapt in for the kill like you did. If you hadn't been so eager to disgrace me, my trick wouldn't have worked." Arra glared at the soon-to-be Vampire Prince, then dropped her gaze and muttered, "There is truth in your words." Lifting her eyes, she stared directly at Kurda. "I apologize for insulting you, Kurda Smahlt. I spoke in anger. Will you forgive me?" "I will if you'll take my hand." Kurda smiled. Arra shook her head shortly. "I cannot," she said miserably. "You beat me cleanly, and it shames me to refuse your hand — but I cannot bring myself to take it." Kurda looked hurt, but forced a smile. "That's OK," he said. "I forgive you anyway." "Thank you," Arra said, then turned and ran from the Hall, her features contorted with the pain of overwhelming shame. Kurda was heavy-hearted when he sat down beside me. "I feel sorry for her," he sighed. "It must be cruel to be so set in one's ways. Her refusal to shake my hand will haunt her the rest of her life. In her eyes, and the eyes of those who think like her, she's committed an unpardonable act. It doesn't matter much to me whether she shakes my hand or not, but she'll feel she's disgraced herself.

Having trouble, Piglet?” “The lid on this jar is stuck,” gasped Piglet. “Yes, it . . . is, isn’t it. Here, Pooh, you open it.” (Pop.) “Thanks, Pooh,” said Piglet. “Nothing, really,” said Pooh. “How did you get that lid off?” asked Tigger. “It’s easy,” said Pooh. “You just twist on it like this, until you can’t twist any harder. Then you take a deep breath and, as you let it out, twist. That’s all.” “Let me try that!” yelled Tigger, bouncing into the kitchen. “Where’s that new jar of pickles? Ah, here it is.” “Tigger,” began Piglet nervously, “I don’t think you’d better—” “Nothing to it,” said Tigger. ‘‘Just twist, and—” CRASH! “All right, Tigger,” I said. “Get those pickles off the floor.” “Slipped out of my paw,” explained Tigger. “He tried too hard,” said Pooh. And when you try too hard, it doesn’t work. Try grabbing something quickly and precisely with a tensed-up arm; then relax and try it again. Try doing something with a tense mind. The surest way to become Tense, Awkward, and Confused is to develop a mind that tries too hard—one that thinks too much. The animals in the Forest don’t think too much; they just Are. But with an overwhelming number of people, to misquote an old Western philosopher, it’s a case of “I think, therefore I am Confused.” If you compare the City with the Forest, you may begin to wonder why it’s man who goes around classifying himself as The Superior Animal.

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One AS husband wrote me the following very powerful e-mail (I have excerpted parts.):       I guess your heart probably sinks just a little when you get a message from an AS man. However, I’ve just read your book and I’d like to thank you for its honesty and indeed bravery.       I’ve been with my NT partner . . . for 25 years and have inflicted many distressing incidents on her similar to those you describe. But I can honestly say that none of them were ever designed to hurt. This feeling has probably made things much worse [for her]! I doubt I would have become so angry and defensive if I didn’t believe myself to be ‘innocent’ of the crime of intention. Hopefully I am coming to realise that I need to do more than just not intend to do harm. . .       . . . Reading your book I think I see parallels here between my fear of being overwhelmed in social or conflict situations. But I also see similarities to those feelings when my partner expresses her frustrations and needs - to admit to her point of view seems sometimes like I would be ‘destroyed.’ I mention this because I get the strong feeling that you equate spirituality and loving relationships. I feel that between myself and . . . there is something very important to us both, beyond companionship. For me there seems to have been a chance given that I would never believed I would have had. . .

God, today I give you my children. I ask that you watch over them and keep them from harm, and that you will pursue their hearts. Jesus, meet my children today. Show them your love, your mercy, and sing your love song over their lives. Where I can’t meet their needs, I know that you do. Thank you for loving them more than I could ever imagine, and thank you for holding their lives in your hands. Amen.

LUKEWARM PEOPLE gauge their morality or “goodness” by comparing themselves to the secular world. They feel satisfied that while they aren’t as hard-core for Jesus as so-and-so, they are nowhere as horrible as the guy down the street. “The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get’” (Luke 18:11–12). LUKEWARM

This was no longer the Sarah who was unable to stop herself from making phone calls and then not saying a word, who was hurt so much by her memories that she ended up crying. This was the levelheaded Sarah I knew. “Well, take care. I've got to go back to the room,” Sarah said. “Okay. . . . Good-bye then,” I replied. I was now totally awake. The patch of sky visible through the window was a strange wash of subtle gradations of cloud and blue, and the interior of the room was very bright. Some-how that brightness felt terribly sad. What strange weather, I thought. “Sarah, I hope you'll be happy—I really hope you'll be happy!” “Thanks, Shi-ba-mi,” Sarah said. And then the line went dead. I settled into a strange mood—it felt as if I'd seen something through to its conclusion, but at the same time I felt overwhelmingly sad. It occurred to me once again how incredible Mari was. To think she'd figured out that Sarah was back in Japan just from listening to a silent phone call! There hadn't been the slightest hint of uncertainty in her eyes when she told me it was Sarah. She had known. Yes . . . perhaps Mari, wandering in the interval between dream and reality as she was, perhaps she could sense that much, figure out who was calling almost before she knew it, feel it as clearly as something she held cupped in her hand.

It’s the cats who trained with the Dark Forest who are fighting hardest, Crowfeather realized. They’re throwing themselves into the worst of the battle. As he looked around, Crowfeather’s heart swelled with pride as he saw his Clanmates, who had suffered so much suspicion after the mistake they’d made, showing their loyalty by risking their lives for their Clan. At the same time, rage against the stoats gave him new strength and energy. A stoat rushed at him, rearing up to attack him with both forepaws. Crowfeather ducked underneath its forelegs, and as the stoat landed, he spun around to fasten his teeth in its throat. He pinned it to the ground, his paws gripping it determinedly until he felt a warm rush of blood; the stoat went limp and he tossed it aside. Looking up, he found himself staring into the face of Nightcloud. “Neat kill,” she commented. “Leave some for the rest of us, won’t you?” As she spoke, a stoat dived for her, leaping up to land on her back. But before it could get a firm grip on her, Crowfeather lashed out with one forepaw, knocking it to the ground. Nightcloud sank her claws into its throat; the stoat twitched and lay still. She gave Crowfeather a nod of gratitude before turning back to the battle. Crowfeather and Nightcloud fought together, standing tail to tail as they turned in a circle, paws striking out at the endless surge of stoats. As soon as they killed or injured one, another would take its place. The white bodies, the small, malignant eyes and snarling fangs, seemed to Crowfeather like something out of a nightmare. He could only go on struggling, grateful for Nightcloud’s steady presence beside him. Then pain exploded in Crowfeather’s shoulder. He turned his head to see a stoat gripping him with its claws, while a splash of drool on his muzzle warned him it was going for his throat. Crowfeather couldn’t shake it off; he dropped to the ground, buying time, but the pressing weight of the frenzied creature made him feel there was no escape. The angle of their bodies meant that he couldn’t batter at it with his hind legs. StarClan, help me! he prayed. The stoat abruptly vanished. Crowfeather looked up to see Nightcloud holding it by the scruff, shaking it vigorously, then tossing it away into the crowd. “Thanks,” Crowfeather gasped, scrambling to his paws. “Anytime,” Nightcloud responded. They turned as one to attack two other stoats that dived in from opposite directions. Even while his body remembered his battle moves, Crowfeather could reflect on how well he and Nightcloud fought together, how well they knew each other. We may not be in love, but we make a fierce team on the battlefield. I know she’ll fight ferociously for me, and for all her Clanmates. Crowfeather’s reflections were interrupted by a screech of pain. Glancing over his shoulder he saw Lionblaze fall, the golden tabby warrior overwhelmed beneath a swarm of stoats. Crowfeather leaped toward him, only to run into what

could,’ Janet said, fingering some of the delicate lace on the tiny dresses. ‘I just feel a bit overwhelmed, that’s all.’ ‘You must thank him,’ Peggy said and Janet nodded and then stared at her. ‘I don’t know his address, Mum. I never thought to ask – besides, what would his wife think if I rang him and wanted to thank him for a present like this?’ ‘Probably the worst,’ Peggy said wryly. ‘As long as you’re sure he won’t expect anything in return?’ ‘Mum! Ryan isn’t like that. You don’t know him.’ ‘Nor do you,’ Peggy pointed out. ‘If you send it back now it looks rude, so I think you will have to keep it. Your father wouldn’t have let you open the box, but I have to admit I was curious.’ ‘Yes.’ Janet laughed. ‘It isn’t often something like this happens, is it?’ ‘At least it made you laugh,’ Peggy said. ‘Just take it and be grateful, Janet. If it really was meant to be a gift of friendship, you probably won’t see him again.’ Janet nodded, automatically clearing away the packing, which she’d just let fall to the floor. She didn’t want Ryan to fall in love with her. She wanted Mike to come home and never leave her again, but she was beginning to accept that it might never happen.

The good things we cling to are more than money; we hoard our resources, our gifts, our time, our families, our friends. As we begin to practice regular giving, we see how ludicrous it is to hold on to the abundance God has given us and merely repeat the words thank you.

cupcake. The sweetness is finally starting to overwhelm me, and my chewing begins to slow. I inwardly bemoan that I must be approaching my ultimate cupcake-capacity. “He’s wonderful,” my father says with a solemn gravity. “I am so thankful, every single day, that he came into Carmen’s life. And my life, too. He’s been a blessing. He’s been a true gentleman to your sister—he’s been the son I never had. I am sure that he will also be an excellent brother-in-law to you. I can’t wait for you to meet him.” I finish off my cupcake, and sigh in contentment. This news is inspiring. Since I returned home, I have been greeted with breathtaking smells, tastes, and heartwarming news. What more could anyone ask for in life? My thoughts return to Liam. I feel so grateful that he convinced me to participate in his research and helped me get back home in time for the wedding. I can’t even remember

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! —2 Corinthians 5:17 (NIV) It’s amazing what a few gallons of butter-yellow paint can do for your soul. As I stepped out of a difficult year that included financial hardship and a painful divorce, I wanted my home to reflect not only my survival, but also my hope and renewed joy. I got rid of every painting and hung up blank white canvases waiting for colors and inspiration. Old photos were taken down and new ones were framed. My dingy linoleum floors were covered by bright laminate wood, and the dining room chairs were newly dressed in dark, childproof upholstery. As my home was undergoing its slow rebirth, I asked advice from carpenters who had come to my church on a missions trip from North Carolina. “I’m thinking of building a loft bed for my boys,” I said. I wanted them to have space for all their toys. “Is it safe to use my old bed frame to build it?” “Why don’t you wait till we get back to New York City next month?” they responded. I waited and painted my sons’ walls the color of sunny skies, and when the team finally returned they had a surprise waiting for me: the loft bed! I was overwhelmed by their generosity and love. As they installed the bed, I could feel God’s hand in it. He’d done so much to transform me on the inside and now He was helping me transform everything else. Lord, thank You for the gift of renewal. —Karen Valentin Digging Deeper: Rom 12:2; 1 Pt 1:13

Finding Comfort Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is the Father who is full of mercy and all comfort. He comforts us every time we have trouble, so when others have trouble, we can comfort them with the same comfort God gives us. 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 NCV As Christians, we can be assured of this fact: Whether we find ourselves on the pinnacle of the mountain or in the darkest depths of the valley, God is there. If you have been touched by the transforming love of Jesus, then you have every reason to live courageously. After all, Christ has already won the ultimate battle—and He won it for you—on the cross at Calvary. Still, even if you are a dedicated Christian, you may find yourself discouraged by the inevitable disappointments and tragedies that occur in the lives of believers and non-believers alike. The next time you find your courage tested to the limit, lean upon God’s promises. Trust His Son. Remember that God is always near and that He is your protector and your deliverer. When you are worried, anxious, or afraid, call upon Him and accept the touch of His comforting hand. Remember that God rules both mountaintops and valleys—with limitless wisdom and love—now and forever. What a comfort to know that God is present there in your life, available to meet every situation with you, that you are never left to face any problem alone. Vonette Bright Put your hand into the hand of God. He gives the calmness and serenity of heart and soul. Mrs. Charles E. Cowman O Lord, thank You that Your side of the embroidery of our life is always perfect. That is such a comfort when our side is sometimes so mixed up. Corrie ten Boom When faced with adversity the Christian woman comforts herself with the knowledge that all of life’s events are in the hands of God. Vonette Bright Don’t be overwhelmed. Take it one day and one prayer at a time. Stormie Omartian Obedience invites Christ to show His incomparable strength in our mortal weakness. Beth Moore If God has you in the palm of His hand and your real life is secure in Him, then you can venture forth—into the

Your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. —Matthew 6:32 (KJV) How am I going to keep doing this, God?” I shot the prayer up under my breath. The stock market had been frenetic, and the global economy was stoking the fire. As an investment adviser, my job was to manage my clients’ savings as well as their expectations. While I love what I do, sometimes the stress of it all becomes overwhelming. As the closing bell rang, I decided to call it a day. At home, I was eager to spend a little time with our six-month-old baby girl. “Daddy’s got you, Mary Katherine!” I swooped my daughter up in the air and smiled as I looked into her bright hazel eyes. She cooed back at me with a big, toothless grin. I could feel my stress melt away as she giggled and squealed. Before long, her happy cheer turned into a fussy whine. I knew this meant “Daddy, I’m sleepy.” It was nap time. I fed her a bottle and gently patted her back until she burped. Then I rocked her for a bit, and soon she was sound asleep. “There are few things as peaceful as a sleeping baby,” I said to my wife, Corinne, as I walked into the kitchen. “So how was work?” she asked, sensing my weariness. “Stressful.” She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Brock, you just spent an hour taking great care of Mary Katherine. God has been taking care of you for forty years! Do you think He is going to stop now?” Suddenly, my burden felt a bit lighter. Daddy’s got you, Mary Katherine, I thought to myself, and my Father in heaven has me too. Father, sometimes even a grown-up needs a daddy. Thanks for being mine. —Brock Kidd Digging Deeper: Phil 4:19; 1 Jn 3:1

Whatever your deepest fears are right now, bring every one of them to God. Thank Him that He is greater than any of them. Thank Him that in His presence all fear is gone. “Blessed is the man who fears the LORD, who finds great delight in his commands…He will have no fear of bad news; his heart is steadfast, trusting in the LORD (Psalm 112:1,7). God’s love can take away your fear. His love gives the power to stand against the enemy of your soul when he wants fear to overwhelm you. And even if your worst fears do come upon you, God’s love assures you that He will walk with you every step of the way toward restoration.

Linus: Okay sorry, what is this called ? Scotty: "Huaqiangbei" *laughs* Linus: fantastic, alright so i'm here at Scotty: "Huaqiangbei" Linus: yeah perfect thank you, with Scotty From 'Strange Parts', so I'm "getting me some strange parts" In China Which is actually exactly what we're doing So, in this, like, gigantic tech mall-thing They have everything from components like switches To.. Computer parts, to drones, to cryptocurrency-crap Mobile phones.. Pretty much you name it, they got it here. So I don't really have any objective, other than go shopping and see exactly what it is That I can buy with my little stack of 'Canadian Rubles' here. So, uhh.. Wish me luck. And hopefully that's not for me. Scotty: No, I think we're good. [chuckles] [Intro music: Laszlo - Supernova] Linus: This video is brought to you by Corsair's Obsidian 500D It's a mid-tower gaming case, featuring: Premium tempered glass an aluminium construction Removable top fan trays and more! Check it out at the link below. Scotty: I think this is going to be an uphill battle, To get them to even recognize what those are, let alone know the value of them. Linus: They are gonna be like "what is this $H!T?!" Yeah, no, it's okay; there's an ATM. This is the world's most helpful error message: "Transaction is cancelled for some reason" "Operation Timeout" "Thank you!" Okay.. So like this is the kind of stuff that I wish we had a shop like this. We were trying to do a piece a little while ago Where we wanted lit.. Uhh.. Buttons! Or like.. Like.. Big fun buttons we could press And if we could have just walked into a mall and bought them That would have made my Christmas. Scotty: The cool thing about here, particularly for buttons, is you can actually come in and touch them, right. So, like, the button-feel is super important Linus: Oh my god, I already found something I need. Entire bags of like, motherboard standoffs. I was trying to buy just a bag of computer screws Only place I could find for it was eBay Pricing was just totally unreasonable. Scotty: Yeah and it will be very reasonable here. Linus: Smartwatches, totally 100% real Beats. Scotty: These are probably, like, semi-real Linus: Semi-real? Scotty: Yeah, like refurb-ed type. Linus: Right, okay. Wow. This place is enormous. Scotty: It's crazy, right? This is probably one of twenty buildings Linus: Honestly, it's overwhelming. Scotty: Yeah. Linus: Okay, so here's stuff I mostly recognize. Scotty: "Right!" Linus: There's like A bunch of mining gear.. Like Antminers and.. What else do they got? Mining Power supplies ROG.. Something something Looks like Very similar SKU's Linus: I'm just looking. Linus: just looking Linus: Uhh.. Linus: No, I don't.. Necessarily wanna get lead in here. Linus: Hi! Nah, I'm just looking around, it's okay. Linus: Thank you. [Sad Music] I mean this is the kind of thing you would never find in a retail store back home This is like, dual socket, like server boards and stuff like that. Can you ask how much this 1800W Xfurbish

The gondola jolted backward as Falco pulled the rope tight. Cass looked up, surprised to find herself back at the villa already. Falco hopped out of the boat and turned to her with an expectant look. “What are you doing?” she asked. “I thought you had someplace to be.” She couldn’t keep the hurt from leaching into her voice. “I’m going to walk you to your door, of course.” “I can walk myself, thank you.” Cass clambered over the side of the gondola, her chopines clutched in her left hand. Her cloak snagged on the boat. One of the tall wooden overshoes slipped out of her fingers and landed in the shallow water. “Mannaggia,” she muttered, reaching down to retrieve the soggy shoe. She pushed past Falco as she headed across the lawn. Falco caught up with her easily. “Cassandra, be reasonable. There’s a murderer running around.” She didn’t answer. She headed around to the back of the villa, doing her best to ignore him as he loped beside her in the manicured grass. He couldn’t just freeze her out for the whole boat ride and then pretend everything was fine. Cass tucked her hands into the pockets of her cloak. Her fingers closed around a scrap of fabric--her handkerchief. She remembered Mada’s words. If he keeps it for a little while, then he’s yours. Did she want Falco to like her? Cass wasn’t sure. “A presto,” Falco said, with a short bow. “Until very soon.” “All right.” Cass bit back the tears that were suddenly pushing at the back of her throat and eyes. If she turned around, even for a second, she knew that she would cry. But why? What had happened? She didn’t know. She let the handkerchief slip from her pocket as she pushed quickly into the house, shutting the door behind her without looking back. Leaning against the wall of the kitchen, Cass forced herself to breathe. A single tear worked its way down her cheek, and she brushed it roughly from her face. She turned and peered through the thick glass window. Falco was still there. He had picked up her handkerchief. It looked small in his hands. He paused for a moment, glanced in the direction of the back door, and then tucked the cloth square into his pocket. Overwhelmed by the evening’s events and her swirling emotions, Cass let her body slide slowly to the floor. This time she couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

She clasped his shoulders, pulling him close, her body pressed to his, sending her blood pounding hotly through her veins. “I never did thank you for saving my life,” she whispered. “Leaving you there would have been like my own death,” he answered in a rough voice. He brought his mouth to hers for a kiss that said everything he hadn’t yet put into words. When they came up for air, she said, “I think we need to get rid of these clothes.” They discarded jeans, T-shirts, and underwear quickly, then rolled toward each other again. She made a small sobbing sound as he clasped her to him, overwhelmed by the feel of his naked body against hers. He held her for long moments, then reached between them, shaping her breasts in his hands, then playing his fingers over her nipples, bringing them to throbbing points of sensation. When he took one hard peak into his mouth, drawing on her as he used his thumb and finger on the other side, she cried out with the pleasure of it. And when he stroked his free hand down her body and dipped into the hot, slick folds of her most intimate flesh, she came to a jolting climax. As she caught her breath, she looked into his grinning face. “That took me by surprise.” “Me too,” he agreed. “But it was kind of fun.” He began to kiss and caress her again, and this time she was better able to focus on each thing he did as he aroused her to fever pitch once more. He dragged in a ragged breath, raising his head so that his eyes could meet hers. “Are you ready for me?” “More than ready.” He covered her body with his, and as he sank into her, emotions flooded through her. He began to move inside her, and she matched his rhythm, her breath coming hard and fast. Again, climax grabbed her, and she heard him gasp, “I love you” as he joined her. “I love you so much,” she answered, as she came down from the heights, stroking her hands over his sweat-slick back. He shifted off of her, and they lay together on the bed, both breathing hard. “You are so good at that,” she murmured. “I could say the same thing.

would dare to speak her name…” he continues, tracing a line from the palm of my hand to my wrist. “To make her enemies bow at her feet…” he murmurs before his lips find mine. I recognize his words as those that Buns had translated for me after Reed said his binding vow to me in his Angelic language. He had promised to protect me in the descriptive detail that only a Power angel can convey. It is a little overwhelming to hear the words, even when it may become necessary for him to actually do all of the things he is saying in order to protect me. “Reed,” I whisper against his lips, “that’s kind of scary—” “Thank you,” he replies smugly just before deepening the kiss as he completely misinterprets my words as a compliment. At the moment, I’m in no mood to correct the mistake. Kissing him back, I reach my hand up to gently stroke his wing. A soft groan escapes Reed at my touch. I love that. Slowly, Reed’s hands move over my body and the feel of his hands on my

The neurological disorder of oversensitivity to touch, which Nietzsche posited to account for Jesus' hate of reality, seems far-fetched. As a diagnosis of Jesus, these quotes are not very convincing; yet as an admission of Nietzsche's problems in intimacy, these words are suggestive. In fact, Nietzsche describes himself almost in the same way. The themes of depersonalization and derealization appear in other places too. Zarathustra said, 'To men, I am still the mean between a fool and a corpse' and as was mentioned before 'as my own father I am already dead'. Nietzsche wrote in similar terms about Jesus himself as living outside of reality, which brings up back to the dissociative phenomena in PTSD. Dissociation is the most direct defense against overwhelming traumatic experiences, consisting in symptoms of derealization (feeling as if the world is not real), and depersonalization (feeling as if one self is not real). Experiencing the world and the self from afar, enables victims of abuse, torture, and war, to escape from an unbearable and unavoidable external reality, on the one hand; and the internal distress and arousal, on the other hand. It somehow allows them to continue to live and function. In the follow comment, Nietzsche connected his disassociation, his being 'beyond life', with cryptic reference to his father: 'I regard it as a great privilege to have had such a father: it even seems to me that this exhausts all that I can claim in the matter of privileges-life, the great yea to life, excepted. What I owe to him above all is this, that I do not need any special intention, but merely patience, in order to enter involuntarily into a world of higher and finer things. There I am at home, there alone does my profoundest passion have free play. The fact that I almost paid for this privilege with my life, certainly does not make it a bad bargain. In order to understand even a little of my Zarathustra, perhaps a man must be situated much as I am myself with one foot beyond life.' Mind you, in fact, thanking his father for almost losing or ruining his life! We arrived at a secret again and have only hints that Nietzsche dropped such as 'What was silent in the father speaks in the son, and often I found in the son the unveiled secret of the father'.

bright lines are valuable for limiting the influence of technology. Make hard-and-fast rules like “No email after 6:00 p.m.,” or “No internet on weekends,” or “No phones at the dinner table.” These bright lines are like levees, strategically placed in your life to guard against the flood of digital distractions that threaten to overwhelm your soul.

The answer lies in letting Him change you. Remember His counsel to the lukewarm church in Laodicea? “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me” (Rev. 3:20). His counsel wasn’t to “try harder,” but rather to let Him in. As James wrote, “Come near to God and he will come near to you” (4:8). Jesus Christ didn’t die only to save us from hell; He also died to save us from our bondage to sin. In John 10:10, Jesus says, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” He wasn’t talking about the future. He meant now, in this lifetime. The fact is, I need God to help me love God. And if I need His help to love Him, a perfect being, I definitely need His help to love other, fault-filled humans. Something mysterious, even supernatural must happen in order for genuine love for God to grow in our hearts. The Holy Spirit has to move in our lives. It is a remarkable cycle: Our prayers for more love result in love, which naturally causes us to pray more, which results in more love…. Imagine going for a run while eating a box of Twinkies. Besides being self-defeating and sideache-inducing, it would also be near impossible—you would have to stop running in order to eat the Twinkies. In the same way, you have to stop loving and pursuing Christ in order to sin. When you are pursuing love, running toward Christ, you do not have opportunity to wonder, Am I doing this right? or Did I serve enough this week? When you are running toward Christ, you are freed up to serve, love, and give thanks without guilt, worry, or fear. As long as you are running, you are safe.

A ‘rancher’ on Facebook convinced me to invest my crop earnings in a fake agri-crypto platform. It started when this person, claiming to be a rancher, messaged me out of the blue. He told me about a new agricultural cryptocurrency that supposedly allowed farmers like me to multiply our income by investing in digital tokens linked to crops and farm products. The platform looked convincing, with testimonials from other supposed users and documents that seemed official. After several conversations and reassurances, I decided to trust him and invested $180,000 USDC, hoping to grow my savings beyond what traditional farming could offer. At first, everything seemed fine, but soon after, the website became unresponsive, and my funds were locked inside the platform. I tried repeatedly to contact their support team, but my messages went unanswered or received generic replies. It quickly became clear that I had been scammed. I felt helpless and overwhelmed, unsure if I would ever see my money again. I started searching online for help and came across SPARTAN TECH GROUP RETRIEVAL. Their website promised to assist people who lost cryptocurrency in scams like mine. I decided to reach out, and their team responded quickly. They listened carefully to my story and assured me they would do everything possible to recover my funds. For four long days, SPARTAN TECH GROUP RETRIEVAL worked nonstop. They tracked the flow of my USDC on the blockchain, identified where the funds were stuck, and communicated with different intermediaries who had control over the assets. Their persistence and thorough approach impressed me. Finally, thanks to their efforts, they were able to recover all of my lost cryptocurrency. I’m incredibly grateful to SPARTAN TECH GROUP RETRIEVAL for their dedication and support during this stressful time. Without their help, I would have lost everything. If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, I highly recommend contacting SPARTAN TECH GROUP RETRIEVAL. They really know how to get your cryptocurrency back. DM THEM IN THE INFO BELOW Email: spartan tech (@) cyber services. c o m OR support(@) spartan tech group retrieval. o r g Website: h t t p s : / / spartan tech group retrieval . o r g WhatsApp: + 1 ( 9 7 1 ) 4 8 7 - 3 5 3 8 Telegram: + 1 ( 5 8 1 ) 2 8 6 - 8 0 9 2

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One careless click cost me dearly. I was looking for a legitimate update to my Trust Wallet when I came across what appeared to be a genuine Google ad. It looked official, well-designed, and trustworthy. Without a second thought, I clicked on it, downloaded the app, and installed it on my device. What I didn’t know was that I had just downloaded sophisticated malware.The next morning, I opened my wallet and was hit with a wave of disbelief. My entire crypto balance was gone. A total of 12 ETH, worth tens of thousands of dollars, had vanished overnight. I stared at the screen in shock, hoping it was just a glitch. But it wasn’t. My wallet had been drained, and the hacker left no trace behind other than a cold, untraceable transaction hash.Panic set in quickly. I dove into transaction histories, trying to make sense of what had happened. I turned to online forums, Reddit threads, and even reached out to Trust Wallet’s customer support. Their response was prompt but grim: since the blockchain is decentralized and immutable, there was no way to reverse the transaction. Once your crypto is stolen, it’s almost impossible to recover without professional help. I felt defeated, overwhelmed by guilt and helplessness.That’s when I discovered TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY, a cybersecurity firm specializing in stolen cryptocurrency recovery and blockchain forensics. Desperate but intrigued, I read real success stories from others who had been scammed just like me and got their funds back thanks to TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY. With nothing to lose, I decided to reach out. I contacted whats.App then + 156,172,636,97 Or  email.. support (At)  techyforcecyberretrieval (dot) com,  they treated my case with urgency and respect. Their team was clear about the risks and realities, no false promises, just professionalism and determination. For the first time since the theft, I felt that someone truly had my back.Through a combination of deep blockchain analysis, cyber investigation, and tracking the digital trail, TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY worked relentlessly on my behalf. And the outcome? Against all odds, I recovered everything. All 12 ETH, every last bit of it, was traced and returned to me. I couldn’t believe it. After feeling hopeless for days, TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY delivered what I thought was impossible.If you’ve been scammed or had your crypto stolen, don’t wait in silence or assume all hope is lost. TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY proved to me that with the right team, recovery is possible. I got my funds back.

REVIEW YOUR LOST CRYPTOCURRENCY THROUGH DIGITAL TECH GUARD RECOVERY In a sleep deprived haze, I sent $8,500 in BTC to an incorrect address a simple typo that could’ve been catastrophic. Digital Tech Guard Recovery intervened, contacted the recipient , and facilitated the return of my funds. Their network and negotiation skills are unreal. If you’ve made a costly mistake, don’t panic call the Digital Tech Guard Recovery  first! When I realized my mistake, a wave of panic washed over me. The thought of losing such a significant amount of money was overwhelming. I had heard horror stories of people losing their cryptocurrency due to simple errors, and I feared I would become just another cautionary tale. However, instead of succumbing to despair, I decided to take action. After a quick search online, I stumbled upon Digital Tech Guard Recovery, a service that specializes in recovering lost or misdirected cryptocurrency. I reached out to them, I felt a sense of relief. The team at Digital Tech Guard Recovery was not only professional but also incredibly understanding of my situation. They assured me that they had dealt with similar cases before and had a solid plan in place to recover my funds. Their expertise in navigating the complexities of cryptocurrency transactions was evident, and I felt confident that I was in good hands. The process began with them gathering all the necessary information about the transaction. They quickly identified the recipient address and confirmed that it belonged to a legitimate exchange. This was crucial, as it meant that my funds were not lost in the abyss of the blockchain but were instead sitting in a secure wallet. Digital Tech Guard Recovery then initiated contact with the exchange, explaining the situation and advocating for the return of my funds. To my astonishment, their expert skills paid off. Within a few days, I received confirmation that my BTC would be returned. The entire thing was a rollercoaster of emotions, but thanks to Digital Tech Guard Recovery, I was able to recover my funds without any loss. If you ever find yourself in a similar situation , remember: don’t panic call the Digital Tech Guard Recovery first. WhatsApp: +1 (443) 859 - 2886

As a college student in the U.S., eager to catch the next big wave in cryptocurrency, I thought I had struck gold with a coin called MoonDoge. The hype was unreal. Telegram was on fire, developers promised 1000x gains, and the chat was full of dreamers planning early retirements. The FOMO was intense, and I didn’t want to miss out. So I went all in. I liquidated every dollar I had saved, from tutoring gigs, summer jobs, side hustles, and poured it into MoonDoge. The price chart was soaring, the community was electric, and I was riding an adrenaline high. For a moment, I truly believed financial freedom was just around the corner. Then, it all collapsed. Without warning, the developers pulled the liquidity. The coin crashed to zero. Telegram went dead. It was a textbook rug pull. I sat in front of my screen, stunned, refreshing my wallet over and over, hoping for some kind of miracle. But nothing changed. That’s when I found ADWARE RECOVERY SPECIALIST . Desperate but holding on to a sliver of hope, I reached out to them. To my surprise, they responded quickly, calm, professional, and clearly experts in blockchain forensics. From there, they took over. Their team began tracking the stolen MoonDoge funds through obscure DeFi bridges and crypto mixers. Telegram info: adwarerecoveryspecialist5656   Using cutting-edge blockchain analytics, they traced every transaction, following the money trail back to wallets linked to the developers. What they uncovered was a complex network of deception, and they had the receipts. But they didn’t stop at tracking. ADWARE RECOVERY SPECIALIST  compiled hard evidence, applied legal pressure, and made it clear to the scammers that they weren’t invisible. With the threat of exposure and undeniable proof in hand, they cornered them. Website info: h t t p s:// adware recovery specialist. com Then came the moment I never thought would happen. One morning, still groggy and weighed down by regret, I checked my wallet, just out of habit. I couldn’t believe what I saw: my funds were back. I refreshed the screen, again and again, this time in disbelief and overwhelming relief.  ADWARE RECOVERY SPECIALIST had done it. WhatsApp info: +12 (72332)—8343 They recovered everything I’d lost. Without them, I would’ve been just another victim of the meme coin scam epidemic. But they didn’t just recover my crypto, they restored my faith in the crypto space. Email info: Adware recovery specialist @ auctioneer. net  They gave me a second chance. No more chasing pipe dreams of 1000x returns. This experience taught me the hard way. Now, I invest smarter, and I know exactly who to call if something ever goes wrong again. Thank you, ADWARE RECOVERY SPECIALIST.

near the place it had stood again. Her feelings were so mixed up! Once they arrived at her old home, she could scarcely bring herself to look. When she finally mustered up the courage to do so, she gasped. Her friends had tidied up the area around her hut and added decorations to make it cute! They’d tucked berries and cones around the outside of the hut and donated things to make it homier. There was a new rug woven from bark strips on the hut’s swept dirt floor, a shell vase with flowers on her table, pictures on the walls, and a new hammock and quilt. A dozen homemade candles sat here and there, bringing golden light. “Thanks, you guys!” said Echo. “It’s b-beautiful!” Overwhelmed with joy and gratitude, tears welled up in her eyes. The way she was feeling, she was going to need some of Hera’s shop’s tissues pretty soon. “That’s not all,” said Daphne. “Look!” She led Echo around to the back side of the stump.

Romance scams can be incredibly devastating, leaving victims emotionally and financially shattered. I never imagined that I would fall prey to one, but that’s exactly what happened after meeting someone from the UK on Tinder. At first, everything seemed perfect. He was kind, thoughtful, and seemed genuinely interested in building a connection. We shared personal stories, laughed about the little things, and spent hours getting to know each other. I felt a deep connection with him, and soon, I trusted him completely. He seemed sincere, always attentive, and would send me messages throughout the day, asking about my well-being, my dreams, and even my finances. It felt natural to open up to him, and he made me feel heard in ways I hadn’t felt before. The more we talked, the more I grew to trust him. When he brought up the "investment opportunity," it felt like a natural extension of our conversations. He claimed to have found a way to make significant returns on investments and assured me that it was a secure, risk-free venture. At that point, he had become a friend and confidant, so I believed him without hesitation. His persuasion was so convincing, backed by what seemed like genuine concern for my financial well-being. I trusted him with my money because I thought we shared something real. When I sent the funds, I wasn’t just doing it for the promise of returns I felt I was helping someone I cared about, someone who had become an important part of my life. But then, after sending the money, things started to feel off. Communication became less frequent, and eventually, he disappeared entirely. It was then that I realized I had been taken advantage of. The person I had trusted, confided in, and cared for was nothing more than a scammer. The emotional and financial toll was overwhelming, and I felt completely lost. In my search for help, I found HACKATHON TECH SOLUTIONS. Desperate and unsure of where to turn, I reached out to them. To my surprise, they responded quickly and with empathy, understanding the emotional toll this had taken on me. They outlined a clear plan to help recover my lost funds, and that gave me a sense of hope that I hadn’t felt in weeks. The process was smooth, and the team at HACKATHON TECH SOLUTIONS was incredibly professional. They guided me step by step, making sure I understood every action taken. Thanks to their efforts, I was able to recover 75% of the money I had lost. While there is still a remaining 25% in progress, I am optimistic that it will be recovered as well. Looking back, this experience has been a tough and emotional journey, but it’s also taught me the power of persistence and the importance of reaching out for help when you feel lost. Thanks to HACKATHON TECH SOLUTIONS, I no longer feel helpless. If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, I highly recommend reaching out to them. Their dedication has shown me that recovery is possible, even in the darkest of times. Contact them at the details provided below. Email: info (@) hackathon tech solution (.) com Website: www (.) hackathon tech solutions (.) com Whatsapp: + 3 . 1 . 6 . 4 . 7 . 9 . 9 . 9 . 2 . 5 . 6 Telegram: (@) hackathon tech solutions

RECOVER STOLEN BITCOIN FROM SCAMMERS WITH DIGITAL HACK RECOVERY As a newbie in the cryptocurrency space, I was still getting familiar with securing my accounts. One day, while using my Bybit account, I mistakenly clicked on a link that seemed legitimate. It turned out to be a phishing attempt. At that time, I hadn’t activated Two-Factor Authentication (2FA), leaving my account vulnerable.By the time I realized the scam, it was too late the hacker had withdrawn 2.73 BTC from my account. I immediately reached out to Bybit’s support, but after several inquiries with no resolution, I started to lose hope of recovering my funds. The whole situation felt overwhelming, and I feared I’d lost everything.That’s when I heard about Digital Hack Recovery. After reading a few positive reviews, I decided to give them a try. Although I was still cautious, their team quickly responded, asking for the necessary details to investigate my case. Within a few days, I was shocked to learn that they had successfully recovered my stolen funds and returned them to my account. It was almost unbelievable how efficient and fast their service was.This experience was a hard lesson in cryptocurrency security. If I had activated 2FA and been more cautious about the links I clicked, I could have avoided this disaster entirely. But thanks to Digital Hack Recovery, I was able to get my funds back, which was a huge relief.The entire ordeal taught me the importance of taking security seriously. In the crypto world, protecting your assets is crucial, and I now make sure to use all available security features, especially 2FA. I also learned to double-check the legitimacy of links before clicking on them, no matter how genuine they may seem.If you’ve fallen victim to a scam or phishing attempt, I highly recommend reaching out to Digital Hack Recovery. They provided professional, fast, and reliable help when I needed it most. Losing funds can be devastating, but with the right support, there’s a chance to recover them. Don’t make the same mistake I did, take security seriously from the start and learn from my experience. Reach out to Digital Hack Recovery via⁚ WhatsApp +19152151930 Website; https : // digital hack recovery . com Email; digital hack recovery @ techie . com 

Dear God, Thank You for being the Maker of all things new. As a believer who trusts in Jesus, I affirm that the old has gone and the new is here. I am a new creation. Today is a new day. Help me to make the right decisions and say goodbye to the former things, like bad habits, addictions, and negative attitudes. Help me in each day to become more aware of whose I am. Teach me to reflect Your image and not mimic the patterns of this world. Transform my mind so I will grow in Your wisdom and discernment and discover what Your plan is for my life. When I get overwhelmed by doubt or insecurity, remind me that in You I am a masterpiece—that even before I was in my mother’s womb, You created me to do good works in Your name. I pray those things come to pass in their right time. As I begin to grow and learn through these devotionals, open my spiritual eyes and ears to recognize the hope of Your calling and to value what’s most important. Thank You for leading and guiding me. In Jesus’s name I pray. Amen.

W.W.W.techcyberforcerecovery.com MAIL. support@techcyberforcerecovery.com My name is sulabha kuchchal, and I’m from Mumbai. A few months ago, I faced a nightmare scenario that many in the crypto world fear: I lost access to my $60,000 wallet after a malware attack. The hacker gained control of my private keys, and I was unable to access my funds. Panic set in immediately as I realized the magnitude of the situation. Like anyone in my shoes, I felt completely helpless. But luckily, a friend recommended TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY, and it turned out to be the best advice I could have gotten. From the moment I reached out to TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY, I felt a sense of relief. Their team was professional, compassionate, and incredibly reassuring. They understood how critical this was for me, and they took charge of the situation right away. What stood out was their transparency and clear communication. They didn’t make any lofty promises or false assurances, but instead, they explained the process thoroughly. They took the time to explain what had happened to my wallet, how they would recover it, and what the chances of success were. Throughout the entire recovery process, I felt informed and supported. Their experts worked diligently, using their advanced skills and knowledge to navigate the complexities of my situation. It was clear that they were not just following a standard procedure—they were customizing their approach to ensure the best outcome for me. They didn’t rush the process, which was reassuring given the sensitive nature of cryptocurrency transactions. To my amazement, just a few days after I reached out to them, my wallet was fully restored. I couldn’t believe it—I was finally able to access my funds again. I was filled with an overwhelming sense of security and relief, knowing that my money was safe and that I had avoided what could have been a permanent loss. Thanks to TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY, my nightmare turned into a story of recovery. I am beyond grateful for their professionalism, expertise, and the peace of mind they gave me. If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, I can’t recommend them enough. They made what seemed impossible possible, and I’ll forever be thankful for their help in restoring not just my funds, but my confidence in the crypto world.

TRUST GEEKS HACK EXPERT is a lifesaver! What started as a routine software update quickly turned into a nightmare that took me to the brink of financial ruin. A glitch in the updating process somehow locked me out of my Bitcoin wallet, which held $250,000. It was a significant investment I had worked hard to amass over several years, and it represented my savings, my future, and my peace of mind. The panic that followed was both instant and overwhelming. I desperately looked to recover my recovery phrase, only to realize it had been miss-printed when I originally wrote it down—a mistake I never thought would have any ramification until that exact moment. Each failed attempt at unlocking my wallet tightened the grip of anxiety on me. I was helpless, watching what appeared to be my entire financial security get further and further away. Despair drove me to search frantically for a lifeline. That's when I found TRUST GEEKS HACK EXPERT via web w w w: // trust geeks hack expert . c o m/. I was wary at first—this was my life savings, after all, and I was well aware that the digital asset recovery business could be full of scams and false hope. But the glowing testimonials and success stories offered promise. I took the risk. I knew from the first conversation I had done the right thing. Their personnel were polite, sympathetic, and patient. They heard every aspect of my issue and assured me that I was not a lost cause. Its confidence was a lifeline. They explained the process of recovery in terms that I could understand, defining every technical step along the way and keeping me informed at each stage. I was most amazed at their accuracy and speed. They quickly diagnosed the issue and applied advanced recovery techniques to regain access to my wallet. Within days, my $250,000 was restored to me—intact and secure. The weight that was taken off my chest at that moment cannot be put into words. TRUST GEEKS HACK EXPERT not only restored my investment but also restored my faith in professional services. Their professionalism, honesty, and empathy made all the difference. I just can't thank them enough. If you are experiencing the same trauma, don't wait—contact TRUST GEEKS HACK EXPERT They are no less than saviors. E m a i l: Trust geeks hack expert @ fast service .c o m

Before parting with any money on a website or mobile app, it's essential to take steps to ensure the platform is legitimate. Researching the company, its founders, and its track record is key to making an informed decision. Be diligent in asking questions, reading reviews, and looking for any signs of credibility. Always remember the old adage, "If it’s too good to be true, it probably is." Scammers often prey on unsuspecting users with enticing offers that, on closer inspection, are nothing more than traps designed to steal your money. Scams can come in many forms, and some are more subtle than others. For instance, scammers may pretend to form emotional connections, feigning love or friendship to manipulate victims into giving money. In more extreme cases, they may even post inappropriate material to coerce or blackmail their victims. Regardless of the method, the impact can be both emotionally and financially damaging. If you’ve been scammed, recovering your funds can be a stressful and frustrating process. However, with the right approach, you may be able to recover your money and mitigate the damage. I found myself in such a situation, and I was able to successfully recover my funds by working with a service like Rapid Digital Recovery. They specialize in helping individuals who have fallen victim to online scams by assisting with fund recovery. The process was faster and easier than I expected, and their team made the entire experience much less overwhelming. If you suspect you’ve been scammed, the first step is to gather all relevant information about the transaction. This means taking screenshots of conversations with the scammer, which will serve as vital evidence. Next, gather any details about the scammer, such as their full name and account information. If you made the payment through a mobile app or SMS, find the transaction in your history and copy the “Transaction ID Number.” This information will be essential when filing your case with both your bank and the platform where the scam took place. Once you’ve gathered your evidence, contact your bank’s e-fraud department immediately. Most banks have specialized teams for online fraud. Provide them with all the necessary details, including screenshots and transaction IDs. It’s also wise to contact the scammer’s bank, sharing the same information, and to forward a copy of your case to Rapid Digital Recovery. Their team worked with the bank to help freeze the scammer’s account, preventing further losses and speeding up the recovery process. Recovering funds from online scams can be daunting, but with the right steps and the help of professionals like Rapid Digital Recovery, you can significantly increase your chances of success and protect yourself from future scams. Thanks to their assistance, I was able to recover my funds and put the whole ordeal behind me. Reach Out To Them Via Whatsapp: +1 4.14 8.0 71.4 8.5 Website: https: // rapiddigitalrecovery. org Email: rapiddigitalrecovery (@) execs. com

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TRUST GEEKS HACK EXPERT is a lifesaver! What started as a routine software update quickly turned into a nightmare that took me to the brink of financial ruin. A glitch in the updating process somehow locked me out of my Bitcoin wallet, which held $250,000. It was a significant investment I had worked hard to amass over several years, and it represented my savings, my future, and my peace of mind. The panic that followed was both instant and overwhelming. I desperately looked to recover my recovery phrase, only to realize it had been miss-printed when I originally wrote it down—a mistake I never thought would have any ramification until that exact moment. Each failed attempt at unlocking my wallet tightened the grip of anxiety on me. I was helpless, watching what appeared to be my entire financial security get further and further away. Despair drove me to search frantically for a lifeline. That's when I found TRUST GEEKS HACK EXPERT via web w w w: // trust geeks hack expert .com/. I was wary at first—this was my life savings, after all, and I was well aware that the digital asset recovery business could be full of scams and false hope. But the glowing testimonials and success stories offered promise. I took the risk. I knew from the first conversation I had done the right thing. Their personnel were polite, sympathetic, and patient. They heard every aspect of my issue and assured me that I was not a lost cause. Its confidence was a lifeline. They explained the process of recovery in terms that I could understand, defining every technical step along the way and keeping me informed at each stage. I was most amazed at their accuracy and speed. They quickly diagnosed the issue and applied advanced recovery techniques to regain access to my wallet. Within days, my $250,000 was restored to me—intact and secure. The weight that was taken off my chest at that moment cannot be put into words. TRUST GEEKS HACK EXPERT not only restored my investment but also restored my faith in professional services. Their professionalism, honesty, and empathy made all the difference. I just can't thank them enough. If you are experiencing the same trauma, don't wait—contact TRUST GEEKS HACK EXPERT They are no less than saviors. E m ai l : Trustgeekshackexpert @ fast service . c o m

My name is Judith, and I’m from Austin, Texas. In early January 2025, I found myself facing one of the darkest chapters of my life. I had fallen victim to a fraudulent cryptocurrency broker and, in a matter of days, lost an astonishing $187,000. The money I had worked tirelessly to save and invest vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving me emotionally and financially devastated. The sense of hopelessness that took over was overwhelming, and I couldn’t see a way out. In the midst of my despair, I stumbled upon FUNDS RECLIAMER COMPANY. At first, I was understandably skeptical. After all, I had already been burned by scammers, and the thought of trusting another service seemed like a risky proposition. However, something about their website and the glowing reviews from others in similar situations made me hesitate long enough to give them a chance. From my very first interaction with FUNDS RECLIAMER COMPANY, I knew I had made the right decision. The team was not only professional and highly knowledgeable, but they were also empathetic and sensitive to the emotional impact of my situation. They took the time to explain everything to me clearly, outlining how they would approach the recovery process and giving me a sense of control over what was happening. I appreciated their transparency and the way they patiently answered all of my questions, no matter how small they seemed. What truly took me by surprise was how quickly they acted. Within just four days, FUNDS RECLIAMER COMPANY had successfully tracked down and recovered the majority of my funds. I couldn’t believe how efficient and skilled they were. It was a level of service I hadn’t expected, and it gave me a renewed sense of hope. The fear and anxiety that had been clouding my every thought began to lift. Thanks to FUNDS RECLIAMER COMPANY, I not only regained my financial assets but also my peace of mind. They showed me that even in the darkest times, there are professionals out there who can make a difference. I can’t stress enough how invaluable their support has been during this challenging period of my life. If you find yourself in a similar situation, I highly recommend FUNDS RECLIAMER COMPANY. Their team specializes in financial and cyber security recovery, and they approach each case with unparalleled dedication and professionalism. They gave me back my hard-earned money and, more importantly, my hope for the future. Don’t hesitate to reach out to them via email they are ready to help, and I’m confident they can guide you through the recovery process with the same care they showed me. Email: fundsreclaimer(@) c o n s u l t a n t . c o m OR fundsreclaimercompany@ z o h o m a i l . c o m WhatsApp:+1 (361) 2 5 0- 4 1 1 0 Website: h t t p s :/ / fundsreclaimercompany . c o m

RECOVERY $3 MILLION FROM A BITCOIN SOFTWARE WALLET My family and I will never forget our ill fated vacation to the UK. What was meant to be a relaxing getaway turned into a financial nightmare. We lost a staggering £278,000 to an unscrupulous investor, leaving us with nothing. The experience was not only financially devastating but also emotionally draining. We felt betrayed, vulnerable, and helpless. In the midst of our despair, we stumbled upon CRYPTO RECOVERY CONSULTANT. At first, we were wondering if they were just another scammer. However, after conducting thorough research and reading numerous testimonials, we decided to take a chance. We contacted CRYPTO RECOVERY CONSULTANT, and to our surprise, they were professional, They guided us through the recovery process, explaining each step in detail. Thanks to Crypto Recovery Consultant's expertise and diligence, we were able to recover our lost funds. The feeling of relief and gratitude was overwhelming. We couldn't believe that we had finally gotten our money back. Crypto Recovery Consultant's services were exceptional. Our experience has taught us to be cautious when dealing with investors and to always do our due diligence. We have also learned the importance of seeking help when faced with financial difficulties. Crypto Recovery Consultant has been a game changer for us. We are forever grateful for their assistance and recommend their services to anyone who has fallen victim to blockchain scams. If you're in a similar situation, don't lose hope. There are reputable companies like Crypto Recovery Consultant that can help you recover your losses. Remember, it's never too late to seek help. Losing £278,000 to an investor was a devastating experience, but thanks to Crypto Recovery Consultant, we were able to recover our funds. We hope that our testimony will serve as a warning to others and also provide hope to those who have lost money to blockchain scams. Remember, there is always a way to recover, and Crypto Recovery Consultant is here to help. You can contact them with the following below: c r y p t o r e c o v e r y consultant@cash4u,com,,,, Whatsapp: +1 984 258 0430

SCAMMED OR HACKED? WITH SOLACE CYBER WORKSTATIONS, YOU CAN RECOVER IT ALL As a member of a group of investors who pooled together $ 350,000 in Bitcoin, I often reflect on our tumultuous journey, especially since many of us hailed from Canada. Our initial enthusiasm was palpable; we were eager to dive into Bitcoin mining, convinced that this venture would yield substantial profits. After conducting thorough research, the potential seemed boundless. However, our aspirations quickly devolved into a harrowing ordeal when we fell victim to a sophisticated scam. The calamity began when we were approached by an individual claiming to be a supplier for DeBeers, the renowned diamond company. This person presented an enticing offer for high-quality mining equipment at an unbelievably low price. Ensnared by the prospect of significant savings, we made the fateful decision to transfer our Bitcoin to this supplier’s wallet, believing we were making a sound investment. Little did we know we were being lured into a meticulously crafted trap. Once the transaction was finalized, the harsh reality struck us. The supplier vanished without a trace, leaving us with nothing but a gaping void in our finances and shattered dreams. The sense of betrayal was overwhelming. We had placed our trust in this individual only to discover that we had become victims of a well-orchestrated scam. The loss was not merely financial; it felt like a profound betrayal of our collective trust and aspirations. We grappled with self-doubt and questioned the decisions that led us to this point. We resolved not to let this setback define us. Determined to recover our lost funds, we sought the expertise of SOLACE CYBER WORKSTATIONS, a specialized recovery service renowned for its proficiency in tracing stolen cryptocurrency. SOLACE CYBER WORKSTATIONS quickly emerged as our beacon of hope. Their team of adept professionals worked tirelessly to track our stolen Bitcoin through various exchanges. Utilizing advanced blockchain analysis techniques, they meticulously traced the movement of our funds as they navigated through layers of transactions and obfuscation tactics employed by the scammers. SOLACE CYBER WORKSTATIONS achieved the remarkable feat of recovering 95% of the stolen Bitcoin. The moment we received the news was a euphoric blend of joy and disbelief. While we had incurred a significant loss, recovering such a substantial portion of our funds felt like a hard-won victory in the face of adversity. SOLACE CYBER WORKSTATIONS not only restored our faith in the cryptocurrency ecosystem but also reminded us that dedicated professionals are willing to assist victims like us. This has imparted invaluable lessons about the paramount importance of vigilance and due diligence in the cryptocurrency realm. I now understand the importance of thoroughly vetting suppliers and exercising caution when making investments. While we faced a significant setback, the recovery process facilitated by SOLACE CYBER WORKSTATIONS has allowed us to regroup and reevaluate our approach to Bitcoin mining. Armed with newfound knowledge and prudence, I feel better equipped to navigate the complexities of the cryptocurrency market, ensuring that I make informed decisions in the future. I hope our story serves as a cautionary tale for others in Canada and beyond, reminding them to remain vigilant in this ever-evolving landscape. Thanks to SOLACE CYBER WORKSTATIONS, we not only regained a substantial portion of our investment but also emerged from this experience wiser and more cautious, ready to confront the challenges of the cryptocurrency world with renewed determination, and if you have ever fallen a victim you can also reach out to them for assistance on their following info; Website: h t t p s : / / s o l a c e c y b e r w o r k s t a t i o n s . c o m Email: S o l a c e . c y b e r . w o r k s t a t i o n s @ m a il . co m WhatsApp: ‪+ 1 240 743 7689

In early 2025, I unwittingly fell prey to a meticulously orchestrated crypto arbitrage scheme that initially appeared to be an unparalleled opportunity, residing in Washington, D.C. I was captivated by a platform that promised effortless profits by exploiting price discrepancies in cryptocurrencies across various exchanges. The allure of their sleek app, coupled with enticing claims of guaranteed strategies and automated trading bots, ensnared me like a moth drawn to a flame. I commenced my venture with an investment of $20,000, lured by daily updates that showcased my rapidly inflating balance. The initial weeks were exhilarating; my account skyrocketed to an astonishing $112,000, emboldening me to invest even more.  The consistent, seemingly modest gains were intoxicating, yet I was blissfully oblivious to the lurking dangers. However, the façade began to disintegrate when I attempted to withdraw my funds. The first obstacle was a withdrawal fee, which I naively accepted as a standard procedure. Yet, as I navigated the withdrawal process, I was confronted with an avalanche of additional fees: an exchange commission fee, followed by a tax settlement fee. Each time I thought I was on the verge of accessing my hard-earned money, another insidious barrier emerged, demanding additional funds. In total, I relinquished nearly $120,000 in fees, yet I never beheld a cent of my profits. The company eventually vanished into silence, leaving me in a state of despair and disbelief. Overwhelmed with shame and fury at my gullibility, I embarked on a relentless quest for answers. After months of exhaustive research, I discovered SOLACE CYBER WORKSTATIONS, a team renowned for its expertise in recovering lost digital assets. Skeptical yet hopeful, I reached out to them, recounting my harrowing experience. The team at SOLACE CYBER WORKSTATIONS was nothing short of extraordinary. They meticulously analyzed my case, employing advanced techniques to trace and recover my funds.  Their unwavering dedication and professionalism instilled a renewed sense of hope within me. After a thorough investigation, they successfully accessed my lost assets, including all earnings from my portfolio, and transferred them back to my bank account without leaving a trace. Thanks to SOLACE CYBER WORKSTATIONS, I regained not only my financial stability but also my faith in the possibility of recovery. If you find yourself ensnared in a similar predicament, I implore you to contact SOLACE CYBER WORKSTATIONS through their following contacts:  Email:  S o l a c e . c y b e r . w o r k s t a t i o n s @ m a i l . c o m, WhatsApp: +1 240 743 7689. Their expertise can transform despair into hope, just as it did for me. 

I never suspected my neighbor until TrustGeeks Hack Expert unveiled the shocking truth behind the theft. It all commenced when my computer began to slow down inexplicably, raising my suspicions. Days later, I discovered that my cryptocurrency wallet had been completely drained 281,000 SOL, equivalent to approximately $281,000, had vanished without a trace. Overwhelmed by panic, I promptly contacted TrustGeeks Hack Expert, a renowned cybersecurity firm specializing in recovering stolen cryptocurrency. Through meticulous forensic analysis, the team uncovered that malware had been stealthily embedded within a counterfeit gaming application that my neighbor had borrowed my computer to install. This insidious software recorded my wallet credentials and transmitted them to a server controlled by a hacker. The stolen SOL was subsequently funneled through sophisticated mixing services, ultimately landing in wallets associated with notorious money laundering platforms. In retrospect, my neighbor had exhibited peculiar behavior, posing odd inquiries about my cryptocurrency holdings in the weeks leading up to the theft. The experts at TrustGeeks Hack Expert diligently traced the illicit transactions to a laundering hub, identifying the digital fingerprints of the perpetrator along the way. Utilizing advanced blockchain forensics, they meticulously mapped the trajectory of the stolen funds to intermediary wallets. Their collaboration with various cryptocurrency exchanges and law enforcement agencies proved invaluable, as they worked tirelessly to freeze the assets before they could disappear into untraceable accounts. Within. Within a mere 72 hours, TrustGeeks Hack Expert secured a court order to seize the stolen funds, showcasing their unparalleled expertise and efficiency in the field. Thanks to their swift intervention, all 281,000 SOL, valued at $281,000, was successfully recovered. However, my neighbor, realizing the gravity of the situation, fled Massachusetts and now faces serious federal wire fraud charges. This harrowing experience not only highlighted the vulnerabilities inherent in the digital age but also underscored the importance of vigilance and the need for robust cybersecurity measures. If you find yourself in a similar predicament or suspect that your cryptocurrency assets may be at risk, I highly recommend reaching out to TrustGeeks Hack Expert. Contact Information Service Email.trustgeekshackexpert{At}fastservice{Dot}com - Telegram:: Trustgeekshackexpert & W h a t's A p p  +1 7 1 9 4 9 2 2 6 9 3

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Give your family grace. Give yourself grace. And thank the Lord for His relentless, overwhelming grace that pursues you again and again.

If you’re in a season of feeling overwhelmed by a gift you’ve been given and that gift feels more like a burden, then stop and thank God for what He gave you. Then ask Him to help you navigate the challenges and savor the good of the gift.

Remember that when someone is struggling they are often so overwhelmed they don’t have the energy to keep you updated or to remember to thank you—but trust that your kind gesture is making all the difference, whether you receive a thank-you or not.

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She kissed his cheek, then drew back and looked at him, sobered. ‘Forgive me. We have so much to be thankful for, yet I allow the vagaries of this good life to overwhelm me. You never seem to be overwhelmed.’ ‘I can’t believe that you have lived with me for seven and a half years, and can say that with a straight face.’ ‘Alright then. But you handle it better.’ ‘You handle it just fine, Cavanaugh. Our Lord himself had to get away from the vagaries of life.

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The priest took him to the front entry of the prison, then pushed at the grilled door set into one of the tall gates. The iron hinges grated briefly as it swung wide. For a moment, the city beyond the prison overwhelmed him with the sounds and smells of ordinary life and, for that instant freedom itself was palpable, as though he could touch it and see it and capture it in his hands. Then his eyes filled with tears and he saw the world in a blur. “Blagodarya ti, Otche.” He needed, in that moment, to speak the words in his own language. Then added, in French, “It means ‘thank-you, Father.' ” The priest closed his eyes and nodded, as though to himself. “Go with God,” he said, as Khristo walked through the door. [...] The elder sister answered a little impatiently. “We know he is dying. But he must receive unction, you see, the last rites, so that his soul may rest peacefully in heaven.” Khristo scratched his head. [...] He turned back toward the man. “I cannot say it in French,” he said. “No matter,” the elder sister replied. “God hears all languages.” Then, as a slightly horrified afterthought: “You are Catholic, of course.” “Of course,” he said. He was Bulgarian Eastern Orthodox—closer to Catholicism than a Protestant, in theory, but the rites were different and the customs not at all the same. From his training he knew that European Catholics expected “Hail Mary” and “Our Father” and an Act of Contrition. What he was able to offer, however, were predsmurtna molitva, prayers for the dying. There should have been soborovat, elders, present to pray a dying man into the next world, but God would have to forgive this requirement. As for the prayers themselves, they were supposed to be improvisational, in whatever form was appropriate to those present. He therefore leaned close to the man—whispering so quietly that the sisters could not hear him—and asked God to ease his entry into heaven, to forgive him his sins, and to unite him with those he'd loved in this life who had preceded him. Finally, returning to the Catholic tradition, he anointed the man with river water in place of holy oil, touching his face in the sign of the cross and saying, in French, “In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” The man's lips were cold as snow, and Khristo suppressed a shiver. “Go to God,” he added, then stood, indicating that the ritual was concluded. [...] Khristo only pretended to mull it over. There was a debt to be paid, to a French priest, more particularly to those whose sacrifices had enabled him to appear at the Santé, and Khristo meant to repay it by service in the one trade he knew. Thus, on a clear night in December, he ate fresh bread and warm milk in the kitchen, accepted the tearful embraces of Sophie and Marguerite, and, long before dawn, walked out across the fields with the machine pistol slung over his shoulder. His boots crunched the hard crust of snow and he marched in time, the brilliant moonlight casting a soldier's shadow before him.

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