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.

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.

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.

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!

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

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.

[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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

    We didn't know the nature of lightning or rainbows for three and a half million years, pet. Don't reject it just because it seems impossible. If we closed our minds, there would never be the Gravitube, antimatter, Prose Portals, thermos flasks—"     "Wait!" I interrupted. "How does a thermos fit in with that lot?"     Because, my dear girl," replied Mycroft, cleaning the blackboard and drawing a crude picture of a thermos with a question mark, "no one has the least idea why they work." He stared at me for a moment and continued: "You will agree that a vacuum flask keeps hot things hot in the winter and cold things cold in the summer?"     "Yes—?"     "Well, how does it know? I've studied vacuum flasks for many years and not one of them gave any clues as to their inherent seasonal cognitive ability. It's a mystery to me, I can tell you.

And a million other distractions. Whenever that happens, I return my attention back to center. It’s like tuning to a radio station. I can easily lose the signal and let the dial wander to a different station, one filled with anxiety and stress. But I know what the bliss station feels like. I know the music it plays and how my body feels when I’m absorbed in it. Because I’ve been to the center so many times, I can usually find that station just a few minutes after I close my eyes. So I tune in there again now. I feel an immediate expansiveness in my consciousness, a sense of connection with the entire universe. I feel a sense of welcome, as though I’ve come home. I’m living at the address in consciousness where perfect well-being is the only reality. As I retune myself to center, another wave of bliss floods through my brain, mind, and body. I feel my consciousness lift out of my normal state, like a balloon rising in the wind, to meet and merge with a consciousness so vast and expansive that it has no end. I know that this is the same intelligence that runs the universe in such perfect order. It has a sense of rightness to it that all the cells in my body respond to. Every cell knows it’s come home, that it’s connected to the universal consciousness with which my mind has merged. The local reality field of my mind and body surrenders to union with the great nonlocal reality field of the universe. There is no room in this consciousness for worry, doubt, or fear. The anxious thoughts with which I began the meditation session are now left far behind me, as the balloon soars high above the world of ordinary local reality. My breath slows and deepens. Every breath is a connection with that great universal consciousness. Every inbreath flows out of that consciousness, while every outbreath flows into that consciousness. A warm feeling of well-being floods my body. Though the cool morning air felt chilly when I began the meditation, my body is now infused with the glow of connection. As I center myself again and again, I notice an intense glistening silver-white vortex of light above my head. I drift up through the portal. I find myself in a level of undifferentiated light. I look down at my mind, and it is flooded with that same white light. I am in Bliss Brain. Everything dissolves into the light. There’s no body, no me, no mind, no universe. Only the light. The light simply is. It has no beginning and no end. It stretches to infinity. It’s all there is; there’s nothing else in this real world of light other than the light. I lose myself in oneness with the light. 2.1. Entering Bliss Brain. There’s a tingling pressure in the center of my forehead where the connection to the light tunnel is strongest. Angelic music echoes in my brain, sound adding itself to light. My

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

war could well destroy even a man whose heart remained beating.

When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade. Make life take the lemons back!

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.

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.

People are always trying to prove that the way things are is wrong, and that someone should do something about it, to make the world better. Often it’s under the guise of ‘fairness’. People die because someone else thinks their theory of the world is more fair.

They say great science is built on the shoulders of giants. —Not here. At Aperture, we do all our science from scratch, no hand-holding.

Books are a portal to another world, but they lead to other places too. To places deep inside you still filled with hope and a desperate need for love. Places where your loneliness doesn’t exist, because you know how it can be filled.

You know, I could have just portaled both of us out of here, if you hadn’t taken my fucking hands.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

—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.

How to Use the Biker Service for CNIC Applications In an effort to streamline the application process for CNICs (Computerized National Identity Cards) and make government services more accessible, the Biker Service has been introduced as a part of Pakistan’s initiative to modernize its registration systems. This service allows citizens to complete their CNIC applications from the comfort of their homes through mobile service officers who assist in the process. Here’s a guide on how to effectively use the Biker Service for your CNIC application. 1. What is the Biker Service? The Biker Service is an outreach program that sends mobile registration officers directly to applicants’ homes. This service is especially beneficial for individuals who face difficulties visiting local NADRA (National Database and Registration Authority) centers due to health, age, or mobility issues. It provides doorstep assistance to ensure all parts of the CNIC application, including biometric verification and photo capture, are done seamlessly. 2. Key Benefits Convenience: Eliminates the need to visit physical centers. Time-Saving: Reduces waiting times associated with in-person visits. Accessibility: Helps those in remote or underserved areas complete their applications. Professional Assistance: Ensures the application is correctly filled and all necessary steps are completed. 3. Steps to Use the Biker Service for CNIC Applications Booking an Appointment: Contact NADRA’s helpline or visit their online service portal to schedule a biker appointment. Provide your personal details and address to confirm the visit. Prepare Required Documents: Ensure that you have all necessary documents ready, such as your old CNIC (if renewing), a copy of your birth certificate, or any relevant supporting paperwork for a new CNIC application. The Biker Visit: On the scheduled day, a NADRA officer on a motorcycle will arrive at your address. The officer will verify your identity, take your photograph, and collect your biometric data (fingerprints and thumb impressions) directly at your home. Completion and Confirmation: The mobile officer submits your application to the NADRA system. You will receive a receipt or application tracking number for follow-up. Payment and Fees: The cost of the Biker Service includes standard CNIC processing fees plus an additional convenience charge. Ensure you have the means to make a payment, whether via cash or through any payment method recommended during the booking. 4. Tracking Your Application Once your application is submitted, you can track its progress using NADRA’s online tracking system. Enter your application or tracking number to check the status and receive updates on when your CNIC will be ready for collection or delivery. Final Thoughts The Biker Service by NADRA is a major advancement in making government services more user-friendly and accessible to a broader population. It saves applicants from the hassle of traveling and long queues, making it especially useful for senior citizens, individuals with disabilities, and those living in remote areas. If you’re eligible and looking for a hassle-free way to apply for a CNIC, this service is a great option to consider.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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…

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!

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.

The body’s initial response to a noxious local insult is to produce a local inflammatory response with sequestration and activation of white blood cells and the release of a variety of mediators to deal with the primary ‘insult’ and prevent further damage either locally or in distant organs. Normally, a delicate balance is achieved between pro- and anti-inflammatory mediators. However, if the inflammatory response is excessive, local control is lost and a large array of mediators, including prostaglandins, leukotrienes, free oxygen radicals and particularly pro-inflammatory cytokines (p. 72), are released into the circulation. The inflammatory and coagulation cascades are intimately related. The process of blood clotting not only involves platelet activation and fibrin deposition but also causes activation of leucocytes and endothelial cells. Conversely, leucocyte activation induces tissue factor expression and initiates coagulation. Control of the coagulation cascade is achieved through the natural anticoagulants, antithrombin (AT III), activated protein C (APC) and tissue factor pathway inhibitor (TFPI), which not only regulate the initiation and amplification of the coagulation cascade but also inhibit the pro-inflammatory cytokines. Deficiency of AT III and APC (features of disseminated intravascular coagulation (DIC)) facilitates thrombin generation and promotes further endothelial cell dysfunction. Systemic inflammation During a severe inflammatory response, systemic release of cytokines and other mediators triggers widespread interaction between the coagulation pathways, platelets, endothelial cells and white blood cells, particularly the polymorphonuclear cells (PMNs). These ‘activated’ PMNs express adhesion factors (selectins), causing them initially to adhere to and roll along the endothelium, then to adhere firmly and migrate through the damaged and disrupted endothelium into the extravascular, interstitial space together with fluid and proteins, resulting in tissue oedema and inflammation. A vicious circle of endothelial injury, intravascular coagulation, microvascular occlusion, tissue damage and further release of inflammatory mediators ensues. All organs may become involved. This manifests in the lungs as the acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS) and in the kidneys as acute tubular necrosis (ATN), while widespread disruption of the coagulation system results in the clinical picture of DIC. The endothelium itself produces mediators that control blood vessel tone locally: endothelin 1, a potent vasoconstrictor, and prostacyclin and nitric oxide (NO, p. 82), which are systemic vasodilators. NO (which is also generated outside the endothelium) is implicated in both the myocardial depression and the profound vasodilatation of both arterioles and venules that causes the relative hypovolaemia and systemic hypotension found in septic/systemic inflammatory response syndrome (SIRS) shock. A major component of the tissue damage in septic/SIRS shock is the inability to take up and use oxygen at mitochondrial level, even if global oxygen delivery is supranormal. This effective bypassing of the tissues results in a reduced arteriovenous oxygen difference, a low oxygen extraction ratio, a raised plasma lactate and a paradoxically high mixed venous oxygen saturation (SvO2). Role of splanchnic ischaemia In shock, splanchnic hypoperfusion plays a major role in initiating and amplifying the inflammatory response, ultimately resulting in multiple organ failure (MOF). The processes involved include: • increased gut mucosal permeability • translocation of organisms from the gastrointestinal tract lumen into portal venous and lymphatic circulation • Kupffer cell activation with production and release of inflammatory mediators.

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!

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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…

What would Roger do if a wither destroyed his bell?

Paisbox Teched To Space/Time 9th Gate Sequence M.A.G.N.I.F.Y.(Modular Abstract Grid Network Integer For Key) <<11,2,3,5>> Phirand[5], Itemizer(2) Abstracter(2), Circlet(8) Ring(10) Diadem(12)(6)Dimension[4,9,13,5,1,6,9,2,1] (4)Portalizer[3,2,5,7,1,12,9,13,5,5], X[11]

The tiny metal monster clenched both of its fists, its eyes flashing a deep red.  “Stupid orc!  You did not ask me if I had three portal pedestals!  You asked me how long it would take me to create three new ones!

In The SNES Video Game Secret Of Mana. The Elements Of HP "Health Points" And MP "Mana Points" Spawn HP "Hexagonal Prism" And MP "Mana(Modulated AU Network Abstracted)Portal" IN KNOWLEDGE MANA-GEMENT OPERATING SYSTEMS, KMGOES GPL Blockchain AI.

Oculus[2,3,8,12,8,6] = [14,2,10,7,5] = [12,2,3,17] = [14,12,13] = [1,15] = 14, Box Model For Paisbox Molecular Portal [phirand, ring, circlet, diadem, itemizer, abstracter] Attributes= pi= Modulation, phi= Abstraction, HP[health], MP[mana] Elements= Hexagonal Sphere= HP, MP; Mana Prism= pi, phi Finally, PO= "The (Oculus) Is Injected Into (Paisbox)

Oculus[2,3,8,12,8,6] = [14,2,10,7,5] = [12,2,3,17] = [14,12,13] = [1,15] = 14, Box Model For Paisbox Molecular Portal [phirand, ring, circlet, diadem, itemizer, abstracter] Attributes= pi= Modulation, phi= Abstraction, HP[health], MP[mana] Elements= Hexagonal Sphere= HP, MP; Mana Prism= pi, phi Finally, POAMULET[3,2,1,13,8,12,5,7]= "The (Oculus) Is Injected Into (Paisbox) To Create The Amulet

The dark surface of the mirror seemed to be the portal to a bottomless void. The suggestion of faint, distant stars spun in its depths.

The 6th Pylon To The Gateway Secret Of The Dark Templar: I speak the words Binding2 Ruins5 Oldin2 Nexus1 : 2-5+2+1 = 6: Construct Additional Pylons...

con idealista como el primer portal creado en el año 2000. De la misma forma que los llamados Listados Múltiples de Inmuebles (Multiple Listing Service) permiten que los agentes inmobiliarios puedan compartir información a través de una integración horizontal, los portales inmobiliarios son una integración vertical que habilita un canal de comunicación directo entre los anunciantes y los posibles compradores (peer to peer o P2P), llegando a un número mucho mayor de interesados, no sólo a través del ordenador sino también a través del móvil. Las soluciones Peer to peer (P2P) son aquellas plataformas que permiten la interacción entre comprador y vendedor sin intermediación de terceros, ya sea el vendedor una promotora o propietario. Una parte esencial del sistema es que permita incluir valoraciones por ambas partes aportando a los usuarios información adicional muy útil en su proceso de búsqueda. Suponen eliminación de intermediarios, optimización publicitaria, reducción de costes y comunicación fluida. Existen principalmente tres tipos de portales inmobiliarios (según Wikipedia).20 1.