Portal 2 Quotes

He looked back at her, and when she saw the look on his face, she saw his eyes at Renwick’s, when he had watched the Portal that separated him from his home shatter into a thousand irretrievable pieces. He held her gaze for a split second, then looked away from her, the muscles in his throat working.

We are stood on the spot where a vast army of legionnaires were sent through a time portal with this very device,’ Jack said holding out his arm and displaying the XXL strapped safely to his wrist.

He had the innate sense that something bad was just around the bend, but a hope that something incredible was waiting in the distance. It had to be. His burning love for her cursed through him until he felt so full he didn’t know whether he would fit through the portal.

I think we can put our differences behind us. For science. You monster." -GLaDOS, Portal 2 trailer

All right, I've been thinking, when life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade! Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons! What am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's manager! Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons! Do you know who I am? I'm the man whose gonna burn your house down - with the lemons!

Recent studies have shown that approximately 40% of authors are manic depressive. The rest of us just drink.

Alec: So you met jace. What did you think? Kit: Of Jace? Alec: Just making small talk. Kit: Jace isn't much like you. Alec: That's an understatement. But it doesn't matter. Parabatai don't need to be like each other. They just need to complement each other. To work well together. Kit: And you and Jace complement each other? Alec: I remember when I met him. He walked out of a Portal from Idiris. He was skinny and he had bruises and he had these big eyes. He was arrogant, too. He and Isabelle used to fight ... But to me everything aobut him said "Love me, because nobody else has". It was all over him, like fingerprints.

Science isn't about WHY, it's about WHY NOT!

Celaena’s scream was still echoing through the passageway as Chaol leapt off the stairs and hurtled through the misty portal after Fleetfoot.

This is your fault. I'm going to kill you. And all the cake is gone. You don't even care, do you?

I pull away from her. “I can’t believe you blew up a portal to the Otherworld.” “Bitch, that’s just called making an entrance.

Those seraphim who escaped into the neighbor world Eretz managed to hold the portal closed, and they held it to this day, pouring their strength into shoring up their sky to keep the darkness at bay. A bold young queen in that distant world was even now training a legion of angels and chimaera to battle the darkness and hopefully destroy it. But that’s another story.

My body shook from pain, exhaustion, and the beginning of shock. I'd pay for all the powers I'd used, but the portal most of all. Good girls weren't supposed to open hell dimensions.

Another portal crackled open. “Good God, where are we, the sun?” Mr. Kent shouted. “No,” our whole group answered in unison. He shot me an apologetic look. “That one was meant to be rhetorical.

I'd ask you to think outside the box on this, but it's obvious your box is broken. And has schizophrenia.

Ash!” I called, squinting through the rain and darkness, through the glow of the streetlamps that made it impossible to see more than a few feet. “Ash, I’m here! Where are you?” “You’ll wake everyone up if you keep shouting like that.” I whirled around. He stood where the portal had been, hands in his pockets, the rain drumming his shoulders and making his hair run into his eyes. Lamplight fell around him, shining off his slick coat, surrounding him with a faint nimbus of light. But to me, he’d never looked so real. “You came after me,” he murmured, sounding awed, incredulous, and relieved at the same time. I walked up to him, smiling through my tears. “You didn’t think I’d let you go off alone, did you?” “I was hoping.” Ash stepped forward and hugged me, pulling me close with desperate relief. I slid my arms beneath his coat and held him tight, closing my eyes. The rain pounded us, and a lone car passed us on the road, spraying us with gutter water, but I felt no urge to move. As long as Ash held me, I could stay here forever.

It’s Sterling,” Alex said. “The library is the portal to hell.

Alright, I've been thinking. When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade - make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons, what am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's manager. Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons. Do you know who I am? I'm the man who's gonna burn your house down! With the lemons. I'm going to to get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!

[Zelden] turned to me. “Wait here. Inform Marcus that we will be setting up in the first-floor kitchen. I believe it may function as a portal to the other realm.” “The demons crawl out of the oven,” Annalise whispered to me as she passed.

No, Darling. What I find amusing is that your fear is of my magic.” A tendril of her shadows curled towards him and slid along his jaw like a finger. She walked towards the fire portal as she said over her shoulder, “My magic should be the least of your concerns.

It took Pueblo a few seconds to take in his surroundings. The first thing he realised was that he felt bruised all over; the second was that his clothes were waterlogged, even more than before, from the quicksand; and the third, was that he had landed on his front and was lying on a large, uncomfortable stone. No, wait… In his disoriented state, he shifted his weight. The stone didn't move. He was lying on his own fucking erection.

I been thinken'. when life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade!! get mad! I dont want your damn lemons! demand to see life's manager! Do you know who I am?!? I'm the man who's gonna' burn your house down! with the lemons!

Why did we come back this way instead of popping up somewhere less…cramped?” I asked, substituting the word cramped for creepy. I was trying not to feel weirded out that I was in my boyfriend’s crypt. It was only a building, after all. A very unpleasant one. “This is a portal,” he said, as if that explained everything. “A what?” “A portal,” John whispered. “A direct link from here to the Underworld. That’s why you don’t feel dizzy this time.” I hadn’t even noticed, but he was right. I didn’t feel sick, for once, though we’d just jumped between astral planes. “This is a doorway through which the souls of the departed enter the world of the dead after they pass,” John explained softly. “The doorway closes behind the dead once they enter. They can never leave again-“ “Unless they escape,” I interrupted. Because this was what had happened to me. He glanced down at me with a teasing smile. “Unless I choose to let them escape,” he said, “because they seem to want their mothers so badly.” “That was two years ago,” I reminded him. I shouldn’t have mentioned the thing that morning about being inexperienced with men, even if it was technically true. He was never going to let me help him if he always thought of me as someone he had to protect. “And do I have to remind you that you didn’t let me escape, I-“ “Shhh.” He held up a hand. “Someone’s coming.

It'd be like a combination lock. Every new portal would make the number of possible worlds she could have gone to increase exponentially.

There is speculation that at one time, hanging the coat in a closet, armoire, or wardrobe would create a portal, but whatever magic the coat may or may not have possessed is long gone.

So four stepping stones in, then you step into my clock portal, and presto!” Sevana threw her arms out wide in a grand gesture, smile irrepressible. “You’ll be home. Pretty sure. We think.

I wish we could tell Arthur the truth, but we came out of a time portal to steal from you because your ancient, trapped spirit inside my wife told us to doesn’t really roll of the tongue.

I will bear Cloud through the portal,” Fury says as Soar ties the last knot on his armour. “Flay will carry you.” “Who?” Soar turns as the female nods. She’s carrying me? “Where are we going?” “Skyfall, Master Soar,” Fury stands. Cloud is small in his arms. “You shall be a guest of the Dragonkin.” “I hope our guest is delicious,” Flay comments as she looks Soar over. Is she flirting or does she plan on eating him? Maybe both.

Does not  l wisdom call?         Does not  m understanding raise her voice? 2    On  n the heights beside the way,         at the crossroads she takes her stand; 3    beside  o the gates in front of  p the town,         at the entrance of the portals she

Well done. Here come the test results: You are a horrible person...I'm serious, that's what it says: "A horrible person." We weren't even testing for that. Don't let that horrible-person thing discourage you. It's just a data point...If it makes you feel any better, science has now validated your birth mother's decision to abandon you on a doorstep.

Search for required Speciality Chemical products and its suppliers, manufacturers or its equivalent brands from the largest database of ChemEqual.

I won’t be able to make the coffee you like so much. The beans come from Earth.” “We must stop this injustice immediately.

Demand to see life's manager! Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons! Do you know who I am? I'm the man whose gonna burn your house down - with the lemons!

If, when he disappeared through his portal, he went to Faery, time moves differently there.” “That’s what V’lane said.” I emptied the cash drawer, counted the bills into stacks, then began punching in numbers on an adding machine. The store wasn’t computerized, which made bookkeeping a real pain in the neck. He gave me a look. “The two of you are getting downright chatty, aren’t you, Miss Lane? When did you last see him? What else did he tell you?” “I’m asking the questions tonight.” One day I was going to write a book: How to Dictate to a Dictator and Evade an Evader, subtitled How to Handle Jericho Barrons. He snorted. “If an illusion of control comforts you, Ms. Lane, by all means, cling to it.” “Jackass.” I gave him a look modeled on his own. He laughed, and I stared, then blinked and looked away. I finished rubber-banding the cash, put it in a leather pouch, and punched the final numbers in, running the day’s total. For a moment there he hadn’t looked dark, forbidding, and cold, but dark, forbidding, and . . . warm. In fact, when he’d laughed he’d looked . . . well . . . kind of hot. I grimaced. Obviously I’d eaten something bad for lunch.

The Oracle waved him over to the leather seats. Zane rubbed his leg dramatically as they moved toward them. “You know, it’s funny, but I never seem to get any comp time or pay no matter what happens to me out in the field. I’d like to speak to HR before I leave.” The Oracle shook his head. “Comp pay? Aren’t you the man who owns two personal airplanes? And besides, I am HR, so you can just talk to me.

Glacier blue plasma rippled and sparked across the interior of the portal. “It seems keeping secrets is what you do.” “Secrets are merely the necessary means. Survival is the end goal. Survival of ourselves, survival of species who do not deserve to be eradicated from the universe. Survival of the universe itself.” “Survival’s noble and all, but what good is it without the freedom to live as you choose?” “A question you have the luxury to ask because you survive.

This is a sequel to ‘Flushed into Another World’. Now, I’ve ‘tried’ to write this story as a stand-alone for the rebels who decide not to read Book one, but if it ever gets confusing at some point in the story, you only have yourself to blame. But I still love you.

The enrichment center would like to announce a new employee initiative of forced voluntary participation. If any Aperture Science employee would like to opt out of this new voluntary testing program, please remember; science rhymes with compliance. Do you know what doesn't rhyme with compliance? Neurotoxin. Due to high mortality rates, you may be reluctant to participate in the new initiative. The enrichtment center assures you this is a strictly selfish impulse on your part, and why can't you love science like [insert co-worker's name here]?

We do not know whether or not Thérèse had a premonition of an early death when she entered Carmel. What we do know is that by the time she passed through the portals of the cloister, she was already skilled in some of the secrets of spiritual living. For example, mortification “consisted in breaking my will, always so ready to impose itself on others, in holding back a reply, in rendering little services without recognition.”2 The practice of these nothings prepared her to be espoused to Jesus, but nothing was more important to Thérèse than the sacramental life.

Speaking of boxes... Do you know that thought experiment with the cat in the box with the poison? Theory requires the cat to be both alive and dead until observed. Well, I actually performed the experiment. Dozens of times. The bad news is reality doesn't exist. The good news is we have a new cat graveyard.

The enrichment center would like to announce a new employee initiative of forced voluntary participation. If any Aperture Science employee would like to opt out of this new voluntary testing program, please remember; science rhymes with compliance. Do you know what doesn't rhyme with compliance? Neurotoxin.

She looked over at the clock. The afternoon update would come on soon. She never missed it. She told herself she wanted to know what was happening out there, but the truth was more simple. What she really wanted to hear was news of one person: David Vale. But that report never came, and it probably wouldn’t. There were two ways out of the tombs in Antarctica—through the ice entrance there in Antarctica or via the portal to Gibraltar. Her father had closed the Gibraltar exit permanently, and the Immari army was waiting in Antarctica. They would never let David live. Kate tried to push the thought away as the radio announcer came on.

The Portal Potion Success! After weeks and weeks of trying, I’ve finally discovered the correct ingredients for the potion I’d hoped to create for my son! With just a few drops, the potion turns any written work into a portal to the world it describes. Even with my ability to create portals to and from the Otherworld, I never thought it would be possible to create a substance that allowed me passage to any world I wished. My son will get to see the places and meet the characters he’s spent his whole childhood dreaming about! And best of all, I’ll get to watch his happiness soar as it happens! The ingredients are much simpler than I imagined, but difficult to obtain. Their purposes are more metaphysical than practical, so it took some imagination to get the concoction right. The first requirement is a branch from the oldest tree in the woods. To bring the pages to life, I figured the potion would need the very thing that brought the paper to life in the first place. And what else has more life than an ancient tree? The second ingredient is a feather from the finest pheasant in the sky. This will guarantee your potion has no limits, like a bird in flight. It will ensure you can travel to lands far and wide, beyond your imagination. The third component is a liquefied lock and key that belonged to a true love. Just as this person unlocked your heart to a life of love, it will open the door of the literary dimensions your heart desires to experience. The fourth ingredient is two weeks of moonlight. Just as the moon causes waves in the ocean, the moonlight will stir your potion to life. Last, but most important, give the potion a spark of magic to activate all the ingredients. Send it a beam of joy straight from your heart. The potion does not work on any biographies or history books, but purely on works that have been imagined. Now, I must warn about the dangers of entering a fictional world: 1. Time only exists as long as the story continues. Be sure to leave the book before the story ends, or you may disappear as the story concludes. 2. Each world is made of only what the author describes. Do not expect the characters to have any knowledge of our world or the Otherworld. 3. Beware of the story’s villains. Unlike people in our world or the Otherworld, most literary villains are created to be heartless and stripped of all morals, so do not expect any mercy should you cross paths with one. 4. The book you choose to enter will act as your entrance and exit. Be certain nothing happens to it; it is your only way out. The

When life gives you lemons? Don't make lemonade. Make life take the lemons back! GET MAD! 'I don't want your damn lemons! What am I supposed to do with these?' Demand to see life's manager! Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons! Do you know who I am? I'm the man who's going to burn your house down! With the lemons! I'm going to get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!

Not only was the four-poster- a lofty structure that would have put princesses and peas to shame- a place of rest and relaxation but it was, and had been for quite some time now, a portal for her magic carpet escapades. It was there that Estelle first began to practice what Marjan had called "eating at the edge of a ready 'sofreh'." Estelle always followed the same routine when assembling her dinner 'sofreh' on her bed. First, she would spread the paisley blanket Marjan had given her, tucking the fringed ends in tight around the sides of her mattress. Then, having already wetted a pot of jasmine tea, she would dig a trivet into the blanket's left corner and place the piping pot on top of it. Following the Persian etiquette of placing the main dishes at the center of the 'sofreh', Estelle would position the plate of saffron 'chelow' (with crunchy 'tadig'), the bowl of stew or soup that was the day's special, and the 'lavash' or 'barbari' bread accordingly. She would frame the main dishes with a small plate of 'torshi', pickled carrots and cucumbers, as well as a yogurt dip and some feta cheese with her favorite herb: balmy lemon mint. Taking off her pink pom-pom house slippers, Estelle would then hoist herself onto her high bed and begin her ecstatic epicurean adventure. She savored every morsel of her nightly meal, breathing in the tingle of sumac powder and nutmeg while speaking to a framed photograph of Luigi she propped up on its own trivet next to the tea. Dinner was usually Persian, but her dessert was always Italian: a peppermint cannoli or marzipan cherry, after which she would turn on the radio, always set to the 'Mid-West Ceili Hour', and dream of the time when a young Luigi made her do things impossible, like when he convinced her to enter the Maharajah sideshow and stand on the tallest elephant's trunk during carnival season in her seaside Neapolitan town.

The boy's smile was a mockery of innocence. 'Are you frightened?' 'Yes,' I said. Never lie- that had been Rhys's first command. The boy stood, but kept to the other side of the cell. 'Feyre,' he murmured, cocking his head. The orb of faelight glazed the inky hair in silver. 'Fay-ruh,' he said again, drawing out the syllables as if he could taste them. At last, he straightened his head. ''Where did you go when you died?' 'A question for a question,' I replied, as I'd been instructed over breakfast. ... Rhys gave me a subtle nod, but his eyes were wary. Because what the boy had asked... I had to calm my breathing to think- to remember. But there was blood and death and pain and screaming- and she was breaking me, killing me so slowly, and Rhys was there, roaring in fury as I died. Tamlin begging for my life on his knees before her throne... But there was so much agony, and I wanted it to be over, wanted it all to stop- Rhys had gone rigid while he monitored the Bone Carver, as if those memories were freely flowing past the mental shields I'd made sure were intact this morning. And I wondered if he thought I'd give up then and there. I bunched my hands into fists. I had lived; I had gotten out. I would get out today. 'I heard the crack,' I said. Rhys's head whipped toward me. 'I heard the crack when she broke my neck. It was in my ears, but also inside my skull. I was gone before I felt anything more than the first lash of pain.' The Bone Carver's violet eyes seemed to glow brighter. 'And then it was dark. A different sort of dark than this place. But there was a... thread,' I said. 'A tether. And I yanked on it- and suddenly I could see. Not through my eyes, but- but his,' I said, inclining my head toward Rhys. I uncurled the finger of my tattooed hand. 'And I knew I was dead, and this tiny scrap was all that was left of me, clinging to the thread of our bargain.' 'But was there anyone there- were you seeing anything beyond?' 'There was only that bond in the darkness.' Rhysand's face had gone pale, his mouth a tight line. 'And when I was Made anew,' I said, 'I followed that bond back- to me. I knew that home was on the other end of it. There was light then. Like swimming up through sparkling wine-' 'Were you afraid?' 'All I wanted was to return to- to the people around me. I wanted it badly enough I didn't have room for fear. The worst had happened and the darkness was calm and quiet. It did not seem like a bad thing to fade into. But I wanted to go home. So I followed the bond home.' 'There was no other world,' the Bone Carver pushed. 'If there was or is, I did not see it.' 'No light, no portal?' Where is it that you want to go? The question almost leaped off my tongue. 'It was only peace and darkness.' 'Did you have a body?' 'No.' 'Did-' 'That's enough from you,' Rhysand purred- the sound like velvet over sharpest steel. 'You said a question for a question. Now you've asked...' He did a tally on his fingers. 'Six.' The Bone Carver leaned back against the wall and slid to a sitting position. 'It is a rare day when I meet someone who comes back from true death. Forgive me for wanting to peer behind the curtain.

Reaching the door of his mother’s apartments, Marcus found it locked. He rattled the handle violently. “Open it,” he bellowed. “Open it now!” Silence, and then a maid’s frightened reply from within. “Milord… the countess bade me to tell you that she is resting.” “I’ll send her to her eternal fucking rest,” Marcus roared, “if this door isn’t opened now.” “Milord, please—” He drew back three or four paces and hurled himself against the door, which shook on its hinges and partially gave with a splintering sound. There were fearful cries in the hallway from a pair of female guests who happened to witness the astonishing display of raging frenzy. “Dear God,” one exclaimed to the other, “he’s gone berserk!” Marcus drew back again and lunged at the door, this time sending chunks of paneling flying. He felt Simon Hunt’s hands grasp him from behind, and he whirled with his fist drawn back, ready to launch an attack on all fronts. “Jesus,” Hunt muttered, retreating a step or two with his hands raised in a defensive gesture. His face was taut and his eyes were wide, and he stared at Marcus as if he were a stranger. “Westcliff—” “Stay the hell out of my way!” “Gladly. But let me point out that if our positions were reversed, you would be the first to tell me to keep a cool—” Ignoring him, Marcus swerved back to the door and targeted the disjointed lock with a powerful, accurately aimed blow of his boot heel. The housemaid’s scream shot through the doorway as the ruined portal swung open. Bursting into the receiving room, Marcus charged toward the bedchamber, where the countess sat in a chair by a small hearth fire. Fully dressed and swathed in ropes of pearls, she stared at him with amused disdain. Breathing heavily, Marcus advanced on her with bloodlust racing through his veins. It was certain that the countess had no idea that she was in mortal danger, or she would not have received him so calmly. “Full of animal spirits today, are we?” she asked. “Your descent from gentleman to savage brute has been accomplished so very quickly. I must offer Miss Bowman my compliments on her efficacy.” “What have you done with her?” “Done with her?” Her expression taunted him with its innocent perplexity. “What the devil do you mean, Westcliff?” “You met with her at Butterfly Court this morning.” “I never walk that far from the manor,” the countess said haughtily. “What a ridiculous asser—” She let out a strident cry as Marcus seized her, his fingers wrapping around the pearl ropes and tightening them around her throat. “Tell me where she is, or I’ll snap your neck like a wishbone!” Simon Hunt seized him from behind once more, determined to prevent a murder from occurring. “Westcliff!” Marcus closed his hand in a harder grip around the pearls. He glared without blinking into his mother’s face, not missing the flicker of vindictive triumph that lurked in her eyes. He did not take his gaze from hers even as he heard his sister Livia’s voice. “Marcus,” she said urgently. “Marcus, listen to me! You have my permission to throttle her later. I’ll even help. But at least wait until we’ve found out what she’s done.” Marcus tightened the tension of the pearls until the elderly woman’s eyes seemed to protrude from their shallow sockets. “Your only value to me,” he said in a low tone, “is your knowledge of Lillian Bowman’s whereabouts. If I can’t obtain that from you, I’ll send you to the devil. Tell me, or I’ll choke it from you. And believe that I have enough of my father in me to do it without a second thought.

Alright, I've been thinking. When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade - make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons, what am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's manager. Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons. Do you know who I am? I'm the man who's gonna burn your house down! With the lemons. I'm going to to get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!

when life gives you lemons take, yell at life, what the hell am i seposed to do with you dam lemons

I felt my heart drop to my feet, and I stepped over it to enter the portal that would take me home without my Dark Prince of secrets by my side.

“Dreams are a portal to our fears, a harbinger of what may come to pass. Thus we must cull the most valuable insights of our sleeping minds, unafraid, or risk life’s greatest mysteries eluding us forever.” -THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE

Tras somera inspección, Jorge de León dictaminó que el cuaderno había sido compuesto en una lengua ajena a la cristiandad y ordenó que sus hombres fueran a buscar a un impresor llamado Raimundo de Sempere que tenía un modesto taller junto al portal de Santa Ana y que, habiendo viajado en su juventud, conocía más lenguas de las que eran aconsejables para un cristiano de bien.

The moment she burst through the portal, something changed. It was like a fog vanished from her face, her features sharpening, her steps becoming longer and more graceful. And then her ears—her ears shifted into delicate points.

Yes. But you know that’s just a title.” She looked over at a couple speaking loudly at the table next to them then turned back to him. “My father is a simple man, and we’re a simple family. Remember, I spent most of my life in the country, far away from here.” She waved her hand at the restaurant’s opulent decor. “This has not always been my life.

He looked at Mei and raised an eyebrow. “I’m done,” she said. Parsons looked at the server. “I believe that will be it.” The man bowed slightly then placed the check on the table. “Very well. I’ll just leave this with you.” Parsons quickly pulled out a credit card in the name of Peter O’Donnell, placed it in the holder, and handed it back. “Here, you can just take it now. We’re in a bit of a hurry.

Slate’s eyes narrowed. Uh-oh. Don’t say “It’s for your own good.” Don’t say it. Don’t. Among the many skills paladins required was the ability to convince people to evacuate dangerous areas. This was sometimes difficult. People were reluctant to admit that, say, the ancestral family farm was now an open portal to hell. There were phrases you used and phrases you very much learned to avoid. Saying “It’s for your own good” pretty much guaranteed that no one was going anywhere. “Really, it’s for your own good,” said Brenner. Damn it all to hell…

Aspect of the Planeswalker: Distance is no obstacle to a planeswalker. They come and go as they please, making all worlds their playground. The aspect may be used to open portals to any location within a day’s walk as the crow flies. As the caster, you will need to have visited the location before or risk ending up in limbo. The aspect is only available to you once a month.

5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2… Respirei fundo ao ver que Madalena estava bem, tinha passado cinco segundos e nada tinha ocorrido, cinco segundos era o tempo que falaram que a pessoa morria após o fim do contato físico, então significava que ela estava bem.

Consistency between Dionysos-type godforms is also demonstrated in five minor attributes, which fluctuate in degree depending upon the particular norms, standards, and values of a given culture. These attributes are: 1. Unsurpassed viciousness toward those who would harm the followers of the god. When this aspect of Dionysian godforms is aroused, they are what has been termed “Hunters of Men.” 2. These Deities are lawgivers who, very often, figure in literal or symbolic acts of human sacrifice, whether this sacrifice occurs because of the breaking of laws, as part of worship, or for the granting of special favors to a community at large. Paradoxically, these same godforms ultimately do away with all requirements for human sacrifice. 3. Such archetypes are portals between upper, lower, and middle worlds: Bridges between the realms of life and death, they are gatekeepers, or the companions of gatekeepers, and masters of altered states of being. 4. Godforms of this type are often portrayed as adherents or defenders of the divine feminine, and can often be found in the company of female worshippers, goddesses, or their own mates, without whom they are incomplete, and upon whom they rely in order to fulfill their multiple roles of Divine Child, Bridegroom, Father, Savior, and Reborn One. Sensuality, too, is a Dionysian trademark: This is usually a paradoxical sensuality, at once childlike and ravaging, remarkably androgynous yet undeniably masculine in its expression. 5. Bewitching is an acceptable description of Dionysos-syncretistic Deities; many are unsurpassed in the powers of discrimination, response, wisdom, healing, fertility, prophecy, and magic in general. When Dionysos was invoked or worshipped by the ancient Greeks for his command of the powers listed above, he was considered agathos daemon, or “the good demon”: Demons, to the pagan Hellenes, were not necessarily wholly evil forces of the kind espoused by the Christian faith. They were seen as demigods capable of bringing either wealth and happiness or pain and suffering to mankind, of appearing in any sort of theriomorphic form — including no form at all — and of interceding between the supreme godhead and mankind.

So what is the lesson art can teach us about how to live in the future? As much as possible, choose infinite game problems. Why? (1) Because, as an individual human being, doing so can ensure your psychological well-being, and offer a sustainable source of meaning that can weather complex times. (2) Because, as a member and candidate emissary of the World called the Human Condition, doing so has the potential to open portals for more people, and makes being alive more interesting for all. Fail or thrive, big or small, your work on infinite game problems contribute to expanding the frontier limit of the Human Condition, a new beat in its never-ending story, a new stretch in its shape. Cheng, Ian. Emissary's Guide To Worlding (p. 81). Metis Suns. Kindle Edition.

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Oh, hey, I’m Hank, eternal protector of Lupercalia and royal penis-head, and I need your help to decode this notebook!

One day after school, Addison’s blue eyes peer out from beneath his scraggly bangs and pick her and only her. That night she touches up her eyeliner, sheds the flat-front Dickies with the worn knees, checks the lighting. This choice, this moment, is going to be a portal to a Whole New Her. But after she uploads the selfie, nothing magical happens. Staring at the image she has released into the world, she feels an unease begin to gnaw at her. She decides to stop after the one photo. But Addison needs more; they’ve been requested from a buyer in Serbia. In a ganja haze, he catches her in the alley outside her family’s one-bedroom apartment. When his low-rent hipster charms fail him, he tells her what she’d better do. Big-shotting in the Crenshaw night, he lets fly that he works for someone who will hurt her and her family if she turns off the tap.

This was promptly rejected with the pastor then agreeing to take the former slaves into the parsonage,

The easiest way for you to make sense of this is to imagine that you’re a two-dimensional being. A being flatter than the flattest pancake, living on the surface of a giant, empty, plastic box. As a 2D being, you can only see the surface of the

Before she could move against him or do any of the millions of things that were racing through her mind, he made a portal with her starstick against the wall in front of her and pushed her through it.

So before Grim could portal them to Nightsade, she turned and said, 'I love you, Oro.' She closed her eyes tightly. Felt tears sweep down. She took Grim's hand. 'But I love him too.' And, because of his flair, he knew it was true.

—Mañana es el último día de la cuenta atrás —dijo Dalinar—. Garabateada en las paredes durante las altas tormentas. Sea lo que sea, fuera lo que fuese, lo veremos mañana... y tú eres mi plan de contingencia, Shallan Davar. Encontrarás este portal, y lo harás funcionar. Si el mal nos abruma, tu camino será nuestra escapatoria. Puede que seas la única esperanza que nuestros ejércitos, y la misma Alezkar, tengan para sobrevivir.

It’s as if I’ve entered a portal and taken a giant step back in women’s rights. Back to when women would rather be silent than be called a liar, a tease, or worse. “So…I

Okay, here’s one. Two years ago we interviewed a man from a small town in Vermont. Great reputation in his community. Owns a chain of highly successful hardware stores in the eastern part of the state.

Nether Portal

The Perfect Seed Minecraft 1.7.9 Seed: 686298914     This has got to be the perfect seed with Villages, Desert Temples, Dungeons, Desert Villages and Strongholds. What more do you need!   Village with Diamonds & Tools: x: (-151) y: (72) z: (236)   NPC Village with Iron Armor & Tools: x: (-323) y: (75) z: (1039)   Desert temple: x: (-184) y: (73) z: (648)   Desert temple: x: (-500) y: (74) z: (329)   Desert temple: x: (-197) y: (67) z: (650)   Desert village (large): x: (-328) y: (82) z: (560)   Desert village (small): x: (-1254) y: (71) z: (743)   Desert temple (buried): x: (-804) y: (74) z: (1050)   Desert village: x: (-804) y: (74) z: (1050)   Desert village (tiny): x: (88) y: (77) z: (139)   Stronghold: x: (-973) y: (93) z: (127)   Dungeon -- Zombie Spawner (Contains Golden Apple): x: (-149) y: (68) z: (343)   Dungeon -- Spider Spawner (Lots of Name Tags): x: (-446) y: (59) z: (386) Best Seed Ever! Minecraft 1.7.9 Seed: 2138374464889032671     This is probably the best seed you will ever find simply because it has everything you coukld ever want  including Villages, Dungeon Spawners, Abandoned Mineshafts and even a stronghold. Take this seed for a spin for a great minecraft experience.     1st NPC Village w/Blacksmith: x: (-346) y: (67) z: (320)   2nd NPC Village (3 Dungeons underneath): x: (-850) y: (64) z: (250)   1st Dungeon spawner (contains enchanted book): x: (-852) y: (57) z: (252)   2nd Dungeon spawner (contains enchanted book): x: (-856) y: (56) z: (265)   3rd Dugneon spawner: x: (-861) y: (56) z: (270)   4th Dugneon spawner: x (-773) y: (23) z: (183)   5th Dungeon spawner: x: (-733) y: (19) z: (321)   6th Dungeon spawner: x: (-711) y: (41) z: (201)   Abandoned Mineshaft w/Diamonds: x: (-839) y: (42) z: (633)   Stronghold w/End Portal: x: (-80) y: (42) z: (795)

Ghosts are just one of the possible causes of these phenomena. Other such causes include, but are not limited to, the following: poltergeists, psychic children, magic, aliens, hallucinatory drugs, an alternate dimension analog of my apartment, a Hollywood special effects team, intergalactic space wizards, LASERS, ninjas, demons, vengeful deities, mischievous deities, uncaring impersonal but very clumsy and unapologetic deities, Silent Hill, that little kid from the Twilight Zone, Old Scratch himself, a curse, trapped spirits and/or demons, a building with hemophilia that cuts itself, one really really pissed ex girlfriend, a dimensional portal to Hell, an erection lasting more than four hours, a manifestation of a horror movie into the real world caused by a djinn or other bad wishing, fever dreams, a sentient building, Bizarro Elvis, the Antichrist, the Best Little Demonic Whorehouse in Texas, mental illness, brain damage, living downstairs from a cut-rate blood bank, a vision from God, or even a cursed sword.

At least with magical portals and mystic byways, you had a reasonably good chance that economics and time constraints confined the journey to just a few minutes of scrambling around through geographically unsound temporal mists. In the small hours of the morning, the air cold and damp, and the sun not yet even a glow on the eastern horizon, it was more of a challenge to get back using nothing more than the urban travel infrastructure.

not a portal back to Danville. He pressed the button again and again

Search for required Speciality Chemical products and its suppliers, manufacturers or its equivalent brands from the largest database of ChemEqual.

It’s not like you or any of your family ever had a choice. You are the family of Drake—this is what you do—guard and protect the portals. You were created to be a Guardian…

Now he needs our ships intact to get the drive.” Venturi sat like a statue until finally his eyes began blinking. “If you are correct,” he said, “we must self-destruct at once.” “Come on!” I said, exasperated. “Will you listen to yourself? That makes no sense. If we fail, the portal planet will open a route into our universe anyway.

I stared at the hypnotic blur of the wall. “How do you open the portal to send the demon back?” “You twit,” Matthias scoffed. “Nobody can open a portal. We kill the demon as usual and it disappears back to hell. As usual.” He rolled his eyes. “Open a friggin’ portal. You’re such a moron.”  A & E Kirk (2014-05-26). Drop Dead Demons: The Divinicus Nex Chronicles: Book 2 (Divinicus Nex Chronicles series) (p. 139). A&E Kirk. Kindle Edition.

A hand came out of the portal. On a surprising note — because everything else so far had been completely mundane — it wasn’t decomposing. A & E Kirk (2014-05-26). Drop Dead Demons: The Divinicus Nex Chronicles: Book 2 (Divinicus Nex Chronicles series) (p. 526). A&E Kirk. Kindle Edition.

Distinctiveness of This Book The book claims to be distinctive in several ways. First, it presents the breadth of case study research and its scholarly heritage, but also at a detailed and practical level. Other works do not offer as comprehensive a combination. Thus, the earlier versions of this book have been used as a complete portal to the world of case study research. Among its most distinctive features, the book provides a workable technical definition of the case study as a research method and its differentiation from other social science research methods (Chapter 1), an extensive discussion of case study designs (Chapter 2), and a continually expanding presentation of case study analysis techniques (Chapter 5

Too Much Sitting Humans are built to move—after all, our ancestors were hunters and gatherers. But we don’t move much anymore. Most of us lead a sedentary lifestyle, with hours of sitting every day and not many calories burned from physical activity. We have cars, remote controls, elevators, and online shopping portals. We go to the

Possibilities: 1. Persistent hallucination. 2. Really long dream. (Or maybe normal-length dream, perceived as really long from the inside?) 3. Schizophrenic episode. 4. Unprovoked Somewhere in Time scenario. 5. Am already dead? Like on Lost? 6. Drug use. Unrecalled. 7. Miracle. 8. Interdimensional portal. 9. It’s a Wonderful Life? (Minus angel. Minus suicide. Minus quasirational explanation.) 10. Magic fucking phone.

OH, THAT YOU WOULD REND THE HEAVENS! THAT YOU WOULD COME DOWN! THE HEAVENS OPEN! The momentum of these meetings continued to build. In desperation, I positioned my heart to encounter God. I continued to see the open heaven swirling in the sanctuary of Living Waters Ministries. I was still seeing feathers and bolts of lightning, and hearing dozens of angels singing along with the worship team. On Saturday evening, the open heaven had grown to about a 25-foot circumference. I was well able to see it with my natural eyes and continued to watch it spin over the church. I was praying and observing everything. I was lying prostrate on the floor unable to move my body. I could see, and I could hear, but was totally unable to move. It was as if I was glued to the floor. However, I kept my eyes focused on the open heaven that was swirling in the church. I found myself in the same position on Sunday morning when a young man named Dean stood up to give his testimony about seeing Jesus in the Saturday evening service. When he began to share, I noticed that there was a flurry of activity around the edge of the open heaven that I was monitoring from my horizontal position on the floor. Dean became totally undone and was unable to speak about his experience. Several angels scurried to the edge and began to excitedly talk among themselves and point down at Dean. At first there were about six angels, and they were very keen to hear and see what was transpiring in the sanctuary. Soon a plethora of angels began to fill the circumference of the portal. There appeared to be angels of all ages, shapes, and sizes. I saw several small angels that appeared to be young children. (Jesus Himself referred to these; see Matthew 18:10.) I also witnessed angels

The first small section was the hardest to build, given the size of the Portal,” Ethris recounted. “They were quite enthusiastic once they completed it and quite disappointed the next day when they stepped through the Portal and fell into the water after it had drifted away during the night. It is well-anchored, now.

When life gives you lemons, don’t make lemonade. Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don’t want your damn lemons, what the hell am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life’s manager! Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons! Do you know who I am? I’m the man who’s gonna burn your house down! With the lemons! I’m gonna get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!

But then she started shouting—the same word again and again as Dorian tried to keep dragging her up the stairs. Fleetfoot. Chaol looked. In a dark shadow by the wall, Fleetfoot had been left behind, her leg too injured to run. The creature looked, too. And there was nothing he could do, absolutely nothing, as the creature whirled, grabbed Fleetfoot by her injured hind leg, and dragged her through the portal with it. There was nothing he could do, he realized, except run. Celaena’s scream was still echoing through the passageway as Chaol leapt off the stairs and hurtled through the misty portal after Fleetfoot.

When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade. Make combustible lemons instead.

Neverra lowered her voice and nodded at me. “Not him. Her.” “Me?” I looked at her in disbelief. “In case you all got hit on your heads very hard back there and forgot, I can’t open portals to other realms.” Logan’s face lit up, as if he’d heard whatever Neverra didn’t say out loud.

Humans here are strange, and not nearly as afraid of me as they should be. They’re undisciplined and overly opinionated in the worst possible way, not to mention ugly and stupid.

If anyone knew—not just about the spells to open portals, but about what I am,” she said wearily, “you understand that I would be executed.” His eyes flashed. “I’m not going to tell anyone. I swear it.

Did I make you fall hopelessly in love with me?” Isla gasped as he pinned her against the wall. His hands were rough against her hips. His fingers traveled up the sides of her stomach, to her ribs, to her breasts. She arched her back, groaning as his thumbs made wide sweeps across them. She knew he could feel her emotions, her want. “No,” he said against her parted lips. “You are not something special to me. You are not something I want to love.” He reached up to her lips and smeared her red lipstick with his thumb. “You are something I want to ruin.” Then he ducked his head to her throat and bit her. It was a light bite, just a scraping of his teeth, but Isla gasped, which turned into a moan as his tongue swiped across the same spot. She wanted him so much—she wanted everything. In a single motion, he turned her around, so her chest was pressed to the wall. His hands raked up her thighs, until he gripped her hips. Before she could move against him or do any of the millions of things that were racing through her mind, he made a portal with her starstick against the wall in front of her and pushed her through it.

So before Grim could portal them to Nightshade, she turned and said, “I love you, Oro.” She closed her eyes tightly. Felt tears sweep down. She took Grim’s hand. “But I love him too.” And, because of his flair, he knew it was true.

Portal me to my room,” she said. Grim pressed her fully against his chest—and pushed her over the edge. Before she could scream, the world tilted, and she landed on Grim. He was on her bed. She was straddling him.

The point is: If we can store music on a compact disc, why can't we store a man's intelligence and personality on one? So I have the engineers figuring that out now. Brain Mapping. Artificial Intelligence. We should have been working on it thirty years ago. I will say this - and I'm gonna say it on tape so everybody hears it a hundred times a day: If I die before you people can pour me into a computer, I want Caroline to run this place. Now she'll argue. She'll say she can't. She's modest like that. But you make her.

The moment she burst through the portal, something changed. It was like a fog vanished from her face, her features sharpening, her steps becoming longer and more graceful. And then her ears—her ears shifted into delicate points. The creature, sensing it was about to lose its prey, made a final lunge for Chaol.

The Great Lake (which is really a Scottish loch, apparently freshwater and landlocked) never did develop as a portal to other seas or rivers, although the appearance of the Durmstrang ship from its depths in Goblet of Fire hints at the fact that if you are travelling by an enchanted craft, you might be able to take a magical shortcut to other waterways. Giant squid genuinely exist, though they are most mysterious creatures. Although their extraordinary bodies have been washed up all over the world, it was not until 2006 that a live giant squid was captured on film by Muggles. I strongly suspect them of having magical powers.

The complexity or otherwise of the entrance to the common rooms might be said to give a very rough idea of the intellectual reputation of each house: Hufflepuff has an unchanging portal and requires rhythmic tapping; Slytherin and Gryffindor have doorways that challenge the would-be entrant about equally, the former having an almost imperceptible hidden entrance and a varying password, the latter having a capricious guardian and frequently changing passwords. In keeping with its reputation as the house of the most agile minds at Hogwarts, the door to the Ravenclaw common room presents a fresh intellectual or philosophical challenge every time a person knocks on it. Nevertheless, it ought not to be concluded from the above that Hufflepuffs are dimwits or duffers, though they have been cruelly caricatured that way on occasion. Several outstanding brains have emerged from Hufflepuff house over the centuries; these fine minds simply happened to be allied to outstanding qualities of patience, a strong work ethic and constancy, all traditional hallmarks of Hufflepuff House.

But he wished Perrington here for more important reasons, too—to help him find out who had opened a portal last night.

Those of you helping us test the repulsion gel today, just follow the blue line on the floor. Those of you who volunteered to be injected with praying mantis DNA, I've got some good news and some bad news. Bad news is we're postponing those tests indefinitely. Good news is we've got a much better test for you: fighting an army of mantis men. Pick up a rifle and follow the yellow line. You'll know when the test starts.