Popular Vines Quotes

Geez, you guys. I know I'm popular and all, but seriously, you're a bit too co-dependent for me. I'm going to need you to step away from my personal bubble." A wispy vine-woman curled ivy tendrils around his arm, and he sliced through them with his dagger. "No! Bad Wraith! No touchie!

Tie me up, please..." Chantal said. They looked above at some vines and roots hanging down from the grassy area above the depression in the canal they were standing in. She was in his hands—he had to comply. A little bit of kink was one of the most delicious of erotic pleasures. Catholic school girls were often the horniest—Brett could hardly contain his elation.

First, contrary to popular belief, Buddhists can actually be very anxious people. That’s often why they become Buddhists in the first place. Buddhism was made for the anxious like Christianity was made for the downtrodden or AA for the addicted. Its entire purpose is to foster equanimity, to tame excesses of thought and emotion. The Buddhists have a great term for these excesses. They refer to them as the condition of “monkey mind.” A person in the throes of monkey mind suffers from a consciousness whose constituent parts will not stop bouncing from skull-side to skull-side, which keep flipping and jumping and flinging feces at the walls and swinging from loose neurons like howlers from vines. Buddhist practices are designed explicitly to collar these monkeys of the mind and bring them down to earth—to pacify them. Is it any wonder that Buddhism has had such tremendous success in the bastions of American nervousness, on the West Coast and in the New York metro area?

The stories that grow up around a king are strong vines with a fierce grip.

One little, two little, three little Indians” is not simply a familiar children’s nursery rhyme, it is also a celebration of North American genocide. This little ditty, many Indian militants argue, captures in lyrical form the belief held during the last century by most in­formed Americans that Indians were vanishing from the face of the earth. This view was popularly symbolized earlier in this century by a small figurine showing an exhausted warrior on horseback, head slumped over and bowed, entitled “End of the Trail,” which adorned the mantlepiece of many white homes. The

In honor of the beginning of summer, Celina had cut out large shapes of palm trees and sailboats from cardboard and painted them in vivid hues of pink, yellow, and blue to showcase her ornately embellished chocolate eggs fashioned after Richard Cadbury's original Victorian chocolate egg designs in England. Coral rosebuds, trailing green vines, tiny bluebirds, palm trees, starfish, and sailboats. Similar eggs had been popular at Easter, but these had themes of summer in San Francisco. She had even created a large, molded chocolate Golden Gate Bridge for one party.

RAMPICANTE (ITALIAN VINING ZUCCHINI) This is one of my all-time most-loved garden vegetables because it does double duty as both a summer zucchini and a winter butternut-type squash. This Italian heirloom is a vining summer squash rather than a bush plant. The fruit is long and trumpet-shaped, curls gently, and features medium to light-green striped skin. The flesh looks like other zucchini but tastes sweeter, another reason this squash should be more popular. All the seeds are contained in a small bulb at the end of the long fruit, so this zucchini is easy to use and does not need to be picked within days of appearing on the vine to be tender and tasty, as other summer squash does.

Grace adored Amelia. The older woman was a close friend of her grandmother and mother, and a constant in Grace's life. She visited Amelia often. The inn was her second home. As a child she'd always raced up the stairs and raided Amelia's bedroom closet, and Amelia had encouraged her unconventional behavior. Grace had loved dressing up in vintage clothing. Attempting to walk up in a pair of high button shoes. Amelia was the first to recognize Grace's love of costume. Her enjoyment of tea parties. She'd supported Grace's dream of opening her business, Charade, when Grace sought a career. From birthdays to holidays, the costume shop was popular and successful. Grace couldn't have been happier. She admired Amelia now. Her long, braided hair was the same soft gray as her eyes. Years accumulated, but never seemed to touch her. She appeared youthful, ageless, in a sage-green tunic, belted over a paisley gauze skirt in shades of cranberry, green, and gold. Elaborate gold hoops hung at her ears, ones designed with silver beads and tiny gold bells. The thin metal chains on her three-tiered necklace sparkled with lavender rhinestones and reflective mirror discs. Bangles of charms looped her wrist. A thick, hammered-silver bracelet curved near her right elbow. A triple gold ring with three pearls arched from her index finger to her fourth. She sparkled.

„Anticarul nu pierdu ocazia să-i relateze pe larg cum venise Georgeoiu întâia oară la Capșa în căutarea poetului, știind că acesta trecea zilnic pe-acolo, trebuia să semneze un contract important. Era seara, pe la șapte și ceva, în local nu se afla niciun client. Directorul editurii se așezase la o masă, chiar în mijloc, și comandase un pește și o sticlă de vin, negru! Închipuie-ți tu!, vin negru la șalău, era șalău, mi-a spus chiar el! Georgeoiu mânca, sorbind încet vinul, în așteptarea poetului, și la un moment dat, văzând că acesta nu mai apărea, îi făcuse un semn cu degetulș lui Spiridonachis, semn cu degetul! Oberul se plimba nervos de la un capăt la altul al salonului, și Georgeoiu îl întrebase ”când vine domnul T.”, -era opt, nici opt. Spiridonachis trecuse pe lângă masa lui în culmea iritării, și-i răspunsese din mers, fără să se oprească, ”Domnul T. trețe pe la douăsprezece, bea o cafea și pleacă!” dând informația asta despre poet ca un șef de gară despre un expres internațional de noapte, a cărui oră de sosire toată lumea o cunoaște, și numai un mocofan ca Georgeoiu habar n-are, un mitocan în localul lui și care mai bea și vin negru după șalău, și mai și zdrobește și peștele cu furculița, ca pe o tocana de cârciumă, fără să puie mâna pe cuțitul cuvenit, numai fiindcă o fi auzit el dracu` știe unde că nu se bagă în pește cuțit! Directorul se întorsese cu scaun cu tot ăn direcția în care grecul pornise furios printre banchetele și scaunele căptușite cu un pluș obosit, pe care se lăfăise aproape un secol „monstruoasa coaliție”, întrebndu-l de ce era atât de supărat, pe tonul acela al lui, bonom, popular, pe care Chiril îl cunoștea atât de bine. Spiridonachis se oprise pufăind pe sub mustăți și îi inșirase pe loc motivele, profitând de faptul că în salon nu se mai afla nimeni, altfel, pretindea Brummer, grecul nu și-ar fi permis. Georgeoiu îl înjurase urât, dar urât de tot,-spunea anticarul-, asemenea vorbe nu mai răsunaseră în localul acela ce păstra în pereți ecouri ilustre, replici memorabile, sau, ca violență, cel mult câte un gest bine studiat acasă, în fața oglinzii, cărți de vizită schimbate în vederea duelului din zorii zilei următoare, în pădurea Băneasa. Spiridonachis chemase miliția. Georgeoiu nu se intimidase deloc și rămăsese pe poziție la masa lui. În nici cinci minute apăruse un reprezentant al forței publice. Văzând promptitudinea acestuia, grecul se răzgândise. Nu era el omul să umble cu pâra. Spre surprinderea lui Georgeoiu, Spiridonachis îi spusele omului legii că avusese un incident „cu o persoană”, dar că între timp plecase. Asta-i plăcuse democratului director al editurii, și, cu jovialitatea sa, îi ceruse Oberului scuze pentru înjurătura urâtă. Grecul se înclinase țeapăn, adică el, ca santinelă la bariera claselor, era gata să înțeleagă orice insultă și să accepte scuzele, deși un domn adevărat-și acest lucru de asemeni ar fi trebuit să-l învețe omul acela gras și vulgar din fața lui-nu cere niciodată scuze unui chelner. Invitat să ia loc la masă, Spiridonachis nu-și îngădui, „-de ce?-se mira Georgeoiu-hai să fim prieteni!, de un` să știu eu aiurelile de aici, eu m-am născut în mahalaua Ploieștiului, domnule, eu sunt proletar, neam de neamul meu n-a mâncat la Capșa, așa că, dă-mi voie, asta-i situația istorică!

A well-organized revolt by the major members of its hard side can kill a product entirely. Twitter once bought an app called Vine for a reported $30 million. It let users create and view six-second looping video clips—it was ahead of its time, and not dissimilar from the insights behind TikTok. Like many social apps, the most popular content creators became very successful, and they were important to attract an audience. Unfortunately, a few years in, more than a dozen of the top content creators organized a revolt: Led by creators Marcus Johns and Piques, the group pitched an idea: If Vine paid each star $1.2 million and changed certain features of the app, each creator would post 12 Vines per month. Otherwise, all 18 would leave the platform. “We were driving billions of views—billions—before we left,” DeStorm Power explained of the monetary request.69 Vine turned down the plan, and a few years later, the service was shuttered. The hard side is worth the effort to cultivate. The most successful and prolific members of this side of the network also provide the highest level of service, are willing to make the investments to scale their impact, and ultimately become the defensible backbone of the network—assuming they can be retained. In Uber’s case, the power drivers represented the top 15 percent of drivers but constituted over 40 percent of our trips. They were also among the safest and most highly rated drivers—after all, it was their primary source of income.

In that sense, Vine was unlucky: its popularity coincided with an era in which social media wasn’t the established entertainment platform. Traditional media snootily dismissed any stars of the small screen then with the moniker ‘e-celebrities’ or ‘social media stars.

Some of the most popular tantalizing and chemically processed foods of my youth were Swanson TV dinners, Cheez Whiz, Tang, Hunt’s canned Franks and Beans, Oreo cookies, Devil Dogs, Twinkies, Lucky Charms, and Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes whose motto, “They’re GRRREAT!” still rings in my ears! Then there was Diet Rite, the first diet soft drink. I’m disgusted to admit that I had my share of it all. It was preferable to have a perfect-looking tomato rather than a vine-ripe delicious one. Addiction to unhealthy foodstuffs turned into the norm.