Pitch Perfect 3 Quotes

If you love someone, everything else is crap.

Pitch Perfect. To

[I felt] a huge sense of relief . . . that the houses and the places that disappeared behind me were also disappearing out of my life, for good. Little did I know then that every detail of this landscape, and every single person living in it, would forever be lodged in my memory with a ring as true as perfect pitch.

You can have the perfect message, but it may fall on deaf ears when the listener is not prepared or open to listening. These listening "planes" were first introduced by the American composer Aaron Copland (1900-1990) as they pertain to music . . . 1. The Sensual Plane: You’re aware of the music, but not engaged enough to have an opinion or judge it. 2. The Expressive Plane: You become more engaged by paying attention, finding meaning beyond the music, and noticing how it makes you feel. 3. The Musical Plane: You listen to the music with complete presence, noticing the musical elements of melody, harmony, pitch, tempo, rhythm, and form.

I sprinkle some flour on the dough and roll it out with the heavy, wooden rolling pin. Once it’s the perfect size and thickness, I flip the rolling pin around and sing into the handle—American Idol style. “Calling Gloriaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa . . .” And then I turn around. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Without thinking, I bend my arm and throw the rolling pin like a tomahawk . . . straight at the head of the guy who’s standing just inside the kitchen door. The guy I didn’t hear come in. The guy who catches the hurling rolling pin without flinching—one-handed and cool as a gorgeous cucumber—just an inch from his perfect face. He tilts his head to the left, looking around the rolling pin to meet my eyes with his soulful brown ones. “Nice toss.” Logan St. James. Bodyguard. Totally badass. Sexiest guy I have ever seen—and that includes books, movies and TV, foreign and domestic. He’s the perfect combo of boyishly could-go-to-my-school kind of handsome, mixed with dangerously hot and tantalizingly mysterious. If comic-book Superman, James Dean, Jason Bourne and some guy with the smoothest, most perfectly pitched, British-Scottish-esque, Wessconian-accented voice all melded together into one person, they would make Logan fucking St. James. And I just tried to clock him with a baking tool—while wearing my Rick and Morty pajama short-shorts, a Winnie-the-Pooh T-shirt I’ve had since I was eight and my SpongeBob SquarePants slippers. And no bra. Not that I have a whole lot going on upstairs, but still . . . “Christ on a saltine!” I grasp at my chest like an old woman with a pacemaker. Logan’s brow wrinkles. “Haven’t heard that one before.” Oh fuck—did he see me dancing? Did he see me leap? God, let me die now. I yank on my earbuds’ cord, popping them from my ears. “What the hell, dude?! Make some noise when you walk in—let a girl know she’s not alone. You could’ve given me a heart attack. And I could’ve killed you with my awesome ninja skills.” The corner of his mouth quirks. “No, you couldn’t.” He sets the rolling pin down on the counter. “I knocked on the kitchen door so I wouldn’t frighten you, but you were busy with your . . . performance.” Blood and heat rush to my face. And I want to melt into the floor and then all the way down to the Earth’s core.

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. 2 Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. 3 They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them. 4 Yet their voice[b] goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world. In the heavens God has pitched a tent for the sun. 5 It is like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, like a champion rejoicing to run his course. 6 It rises at one end of the heavens and makes its circuit to the other; nothing is deprived of its warmth. 7 The law of the Lord is perfect, refreshing the soul. The statutes of the Lord are trustworthy, making wise the simple. 8 The precepts of the Lord are right, giving joy to the heart. The commands of the Lord are radiant, giving light to the eyes. 9 The fear of the Lord is pure, enduring forever. The decrees of the Lord are firm, and all of them are righteous. 10 They are more precious than gold, than much pure gold; they are sweeter than honey, than honey from the honeycomb. 11 By them your servant is warned; in keeping them there is great reward. 12 But who can discern their own errors? Forgive my hidden faults. 13 Keep your servant also from willful sins; may they not rule over me. Then I will be blameless, innocent of great transgression. 14 May these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.

It’s like dancing, like being a hummingbird among elephants, like having all your joints lubricated and everything suddenly turned to perfect pitch. Even the light changes. I call it the blue place.

Before we dive into specific examples, let’s first look at a simple, four-step, codified breakdown for a typical infomercial pitch: 1. The Problem: Here’s the problem you’re experiencing today, based on your status quo state or the solution you’re already using. This is where the tension is created. Where they “cut you” and get you to see you are bleeding (as we discussed in chapter 4)! In some cases, this pain might be top of mind, or it might be hidden, latent, or even something you may not think about all that often. This is also a perfect place to call out the enemy you identified earlier in this chapter. For example, if this were an infomercial for a set of space-aged kitchen knives that never need sharpening, the narrative might begin with a poor fool trying to cut a red, ripe tomato with an old, dull knife. As the grainy black-and-white footage rolls, the unsuspecting subject squashes the tomato with their sub-par knife, sending seeds and tomato flesh flying in all directions (and ruining the white suit they were wearing for some reason). Tension is created as the viewer starts to see themselves as the subject or hero of this story. 2. The Ideal Solution: Here’s the ideal solution to the problem. While not always top of mind, people often know the solutions to problems but see them as requiring too much effort and cost. In other words, spending money or investing time doing something our hero doesn’t want to do can usually solve the problem. This is where that solution is positioned. For example, the ideal solution to our dull knife problem is to go to a fancy kitchen store and purchase some top-of-the-line Japanese hand-forged steel knives. In a business context, many problems can be solved by throwing tons of time, money, and both human and technical resources at a them. 3. The Problem with That Ideal Solution: This is what makes that ideal solution difficult or less desirable. Here, you are creating contrast between where your hero is today and where they need to get to—a large gap they need to overcome. In doing this you are positioning the ideal solution as something they don’t want to or can’t make happen. For example, you could go to the kitchen store and buy those fancy knives, but they cost hundreds of dollars that you would rather not spend. The same goes for the massive business resource splurge suggested in the previous step. 4. Enter Our Solution: The stunning climax! Here’s how investing in our product, service, or solution can help you overcome the problem and pain you’re experiencing, while at the same time circumventing the challenges associated with the ideal solution.

Yer jalan atthirari anni!” he said loudly and clearly. She gaped at him as most of the audience gasped and hooted with approval. He’d just said, in pitch-perfect Dothraki, Khal Drogo’s famed endearment for his wife: Moon of my life. She couldn't help it. Her heart melted in a puddle. "Shekh ma shieraki anni," she replied back. My sun and stars. And in a second, he took two long strides, picked her up, and kissed her.

On one occasion, when in New York City, I was in the night season called upon to behold buildings rising story after story toward heaven. These buildings were warranted to be fireproof, and they were erected to glorify their owners and builders. Higher and still higher these buildings rose, and in them the most costly material was used. Those to whom these buildings belonged were not asking themselves: "How can we best glorify God?" The Lord was not in their thoughts. {9T 12.1} I thought: "Oh, that those who are thus investing their means could see their course as God sees it! They are piling up magnificent buildings, but how foolish in the sight of the Ruler of the universe is their planning and devising. They are not studying with all the powers of heart and mind how they may glorify God. They have lost sight of this, the first duty of man." {9T 12.2} As these lofty buildings went up, the owners rejoiced with ambitious pride that they had money to use in gratifying self and provoking the envy of their neighbors. Much of the money that they thus invested had been obtained through exaction, through grinding down the poor. They forgot that in heaven an account of every business transaction is kept; every unjust deal, every fraudulent act, is there recorded. The time is coming when in their fraud and insolence men will reach a point that the Lord will not permit them to pass, and they will learn that there is a limit to the forbearance of Jehovah. {9T 12.3} The scene that next passed before me was an alarm of fire. Men looked at the lofty and supposedly fire-proof buildings and said: "They are perfectly safe." But these buildings were consumed as if made of pitch. The fire engines could do nothing to stay the destruction. The firemen were unable to operate the engines. {9T 13.1}

Running halfway around the world apparently hadn’t been far enough to leave him and all of what had transpired between her and the entire Jax family behind. So why did she think she could escape it along the span of one low-tide beach? She stopped so abruptly that he banged into the back of her, then immediately grabbed both of her arms when she pitched forward and lost her balance on the slippery rocks. He pulled her back against him, and the shock of the feel of that hard body lined up so perfectly with hers, so much better than she’d ever imagined it would feel--and oh, she’d imagined it--was far greater than almost pitching face-first against the rocks. The instant she had her balance she said, “I’m good” and moved out of his grasp. She wasn’t sure what it said that she was disappointed he didn’t take advantage of the moment to press his cause…or anything else he might be interested in pressing against her. But he let her go, and even stepped back for good measure. “Sorry,” she said, turning to face him. “I just--this isn’t solving anything.” “What is it that needs solving? To your way of thinking,” he added. She gaped at him, then shook her head and laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. Your coming thousands of miles to declare yourself to me, a year after I left and, as far as you knew, never looked back?” “You’ve already solved that one, haven’t you?” he said. “Back there in the pub. I believe you shut me down pretty effectively and quite definitively.” “So why are you here?” She gestured to their immediate surroundings, perhaps a bit more wildly than was technically necessary. “Why aren’t you trotting back to the airport and back home again? I’m sure your family can’t be thrilled with you up and taking off like that. It’s the middle of dry season.” “It’s always the middle of something,” he said. “And if you want to know the truth, it was Big Jack who presented me with the plane ticket.

She reported that another hawk message had come in. Azania gave a very un-princess-like caper and a fist pump. “The reign of King Tyloric has ended!” YEEEERRRSSSS!! he thundered. Three windows up in the castle’s turrets shattered at the reverberation. Glass tinkled down. “Dragon, any chance we could think before we bellow?” Gnarr-t a chance. “I understand perfectly. Anyways, it is the best news since Ignis and Taramis decided to smile upon Solixambria.” He displayed at least fifty fangs in a grin so huge, the stretch caused his jaw joint to pop loudly. “Who’s the replacement, may I ask?” “Lord Harikic, who happens to be married to Queen Shariza’s younger sister, Immiriza.” “What is it with Humans and rhyming names?” “What is it with Dragons and silly Clan names, like Crusher, Grinder or Obliterator?” “That’s what they do.” “So practical,” she teased, inflicting a hug upon him. “Is it bad of me to feel vindicated? Before you ask, this man is a very different prospect. He –” “Knows what a bathtub is?” Consumed by a fit of helpless giggles, she gasped, “Dragon, I love you!” “Oh dear. Does Azerim know he’s lost your affections?” “Not like that, you ridiculous reptile.” Placing his right fist over his heart, he moaned in a high-pitched, knightly voice, “Oh, say it not, Azania, my verimost muse, for I have loved thee most fulsomely since the very first day I clapped paw upon thy peerless person! Woe, thou breakest at least one of mine five hearts. How shall this scorned creature ever become whole again?” This was too much for the Princess. She guffawed so hard that tears sprang into her eyes. She folded up in his paw, apparently unable to stand. He eyed the girl wriggling in his paw in a perfectly undignified state of hysterics. Ah, so this would be ‘rolling with laughter’ in Human parlance. The problem was that it was catching. What was it about yawns and laughter that was more infectious than the worst disease imaginable? Very soon, his roars of mirth shook the castle. Another two windows gave up the unequal battle and dropped their leaded glass into the courtyard with a loud crash. Inzashu, the Prince and at least twenty servants rushed out to see what the commotion was all about. “Celebrating Tyloric’s downfall,” Azania managed to explain between hiccoughs. Thundersong said, “This would be the same Tyloric who clapped Princess Azania in irons in his dungeon for a month, hoping she’d break and agree to marry Prince Floric.” “Floric the Flatulent? Gods, no!” several servants blurted out. One man ducked aside and deposited his breakfast in a nearby flowerbed. “Sorry …” “I understand perfectly,” Azania said.

love potion The cherry-vanilla combination in this cocktail is somewhat reminiscent of childhood, but given that those flavors are mixed with sake and prosecco here, this drink is very grown-up. Finishing off the cocktail’s highball with chocolate sugar is a stroke of genius, if I do say so myself; the pitch-perfect end result is practically dessert. TIME: 5 MINUTES SERVES: 1 2 tablespoons coconut sugar 1½ teaspoons unsweetened cacao powder ½ ounce Vanilla Syrup 1½ ounces sake 3 ounces cherry juice Prosecco On a small round plate, mix the coconut sugar and cacao powder until fully combined. Using a sponge or paper towel, moisten the highball glass rim with a bit of vanilla syrup. Dip the rim in the chocolate coconut sugar, without twisting. Make sure the rim is thoroughly coated. Fill the rimmed glass three-quarters full with ice. Add the sake, cherry juice, and vanilla syrup. Top with prosecco. Stir briefly with a barspoon. Serve and enjoy.

The Perfect Pitch Here’s the general framework for successful pitches: 1. Here’s how the world works today. 2. Here’s how the world should work in the future, but here’s what’s broken/missing. 3. Here’s why no one has been able to solve this problem so far (potentially reference folks who have tried and failed). This is a massive opportunity. Whoever solves this problem is going to have to do X, Y, and Z, but will be rewarded heavily. 4. Here’s the secret to how we’re going to fix this. A secret can be a unique insight, approach, technology, invention, or some shift or change in the world that has opened up an opportunity with you being the first mover. 5. Here’s why we’re going to execute the best (best team ever, traction thus far if applicable, your unique experience as a founder, etc.).

You can see by comparing the numbers you get a percentage, in this case, 3%. This is good! This feels reasonable. There is no perfect ratio, but it feels good. The gut check says, “Yeah, this could happen.

And at long last, Harry mounted his Firebolt, and kicked off from the ground. It was better than he’d ever dreamed. The Firebolt turned with the lightest touch; it seemed to obey his thoughts rather than his grip. It sped across the pitch at such speed that the stadium turned into a green and grey blur; Harry turned it so sharply that Alicia Spinnet screamed, then he went into a perfectly controlled dive, brushing the grassy pitch with his toes before rising thirty, forty, fifty feet into the air again – ‘Harry, I’m letting the Snitch out!’ Wood called. Harry turned and raced a Bludger towards the goalposts; he outstripped it easily, saw the Snitch dart out from behind Wood and within ten seconds had caught it tightly in his hand.

There are drills disguised as obstacle courses, weapons training pitched as playing ninjas, and plans concealed as treasure maps for fresh earth to bury a body. That last one is a little outdated now, ever since Sully perfected his science skills. The dude loves efficiency.