Ridiculous 6 Quotes

It was the most convulted, ridiculous piece of logic I'd heard in awhile... It was something I would have come up with.

I don't believe in soul mates, not exactly. I think it's ridiculous to think there's only one person out there for us. What if your 'soul mate' lives in Zimbabwe? What if he dies young? I also think 'two souls becoming one' is ridiculous. You need to hold on to yourself. But I do believe in souls being in sync, souls that mirror each other.

I try not to underestimate my opponents, no matter how ridiculous their beards.

That's ridiculous. The only point in having enemies is so you can defeat them, kill them, brush them aside." "Or give them a chance to redeem themselves.

You think Bernadette Maguire killed him?” “Uh… no. She’s, like I said, she’s old.” “Old people can kill people too.” “I know, but…” “She could be a ninja.” “She’s not a ninja, for God’s sake. She’s somebody’s great grandmother.” “I want you to think carefully about this, Kenny. Have you ever seen her with a sword?” “What?” “How about throwing stars?” “This is ridiculous.” “Have you ever seen her dressed up as a ninja? That would have been my first clue.” The girl sucked in her cheeks so she wouldn't laugh out loud.

I'm sorry,' said the shopkeeper. 'I can't understand your ridiculous accent.' 'My accent?' 'It is quite silly.' 'So you can't understand me?' 'Not a word.' 'Then how did you understand that?' 'I didn't.' ''You didn't understand what I just said?' 'That's right.' 'You understood that, though.' 'Not at all.' The American glowered.

She wasn't the only one to be physically morphed by reader expectation. Miss Havisham was now elderly whether she liked it or not, and Sherlock Holmes wore a deerstalker and smoked a ridiculously large pipe. The problem wasn't just confined to the classics. Harry Potter was seriously pissed off that he'd have to spend the rest of life looking like Daniel Radcliffe.

You see!" said a strained voice. Tonks was glaring at Lupin. "She still wants to marry him, even though he's been bitten! She doesn't care!" "It's different," said Lupin, barely moving his lips and looking suddenly tense. "Bill will not be a full werewolf. The cases are completely-" "But I don't care either, I don't care!" said Tonks, seizing the front of Lupin's robes and shaking them. "I've told you a million times...." And the meaning of Tonk's Patronus and her mouse-colored hair, and the reason she had come running to find Dumbledore when she had heard a rumor someone had been attacked by Greyback, all suddenly became clear to Harry; it had not been Sirius that Tonks had fallen in love with after all. "And I've told you a million times," said Lupin, refusing to meet her eyes, staring at the floor, "that I am too old for you, too poor....too dangerous...." "I've said all along you're taking a ridiculous line on this, Remus," said Mrs. Weasley over Fleur's shoulder as she patted her on the back. "I am not being ridiculous," said Lupin steadily. "Tonks deserves somebody young and whole." "But she wants you," said Mr. Weasley, with a small smile. "And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so." He gestured sadly at his son, lying between them. "This is....not the moment to discuss it," said Lupin, avoiding everybody's eyes as he looked around distractedly. "Dumbledore is dead...." "Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think that there was a little more love in the world," said Professor McGonagall curtly...

I can't spend too much time in the forests because I invariably leave traces-ridiculously happy trees, basically, since I'm the last Druid in the world and they tend to geek out like Joss Whedon fans when I show up.

This is payback, isn't it?" Jim glared at me. "Don't be ridiculous," I told him. "As the Consort of the Pack, I'm far above petty revenge.

Now look," snapped the Dean, "we've searched everywhere for a decent library on this island. There simply isn't one! It's ridiculous. How is anyone supposed to get anything done?

I find many adults are put off when young children pose scientific questions. Why is the Moon round? the children ask. Why is grass green? What is a dream? How deep can you dig a hole? When is the world’s birthday? Why do we have toes? Too many teachers and parents answer with irritation or ridicule, or quickly move on to something else: ‘What did you expect the Moon to be, square?’ Children soon recognize that somehow this kind of question annoys the grown-ups. A few more experiences like it, and another child has been lost to science. Why adults should pretend to omniscience before 6-year-olds, I can’t for the life of me understand. What’s wrong with admitting that we don’t know something? Is our self-esteem so fragile?

How can you regret never having found true love? That's like saying you regret not being born a genius. People don't have control over such things. It either happens or it doesn't. It's a gift - a present that most never get. It's more like a miracle, really, when you think of it. I mean, first you have to find that person, and then you have to get to know them to realize just what they mean to you - that right there is ridiculously difficult. Then... then that person has to feel the same way about you. It's like searching for a specific snowflake, and even if you manage to find it, that's not good enough. You still have to find its matching pair. What are the odds?

There is a god. Nothing as tragic and ridiculous as this world could have happened by random chance.

I guess that makes sense. And by the way—your friends?” Amy glanced over her shoulder to take another peek at them. “Are they in a contest to see who can be the most gorgeous or something?” Sophie had to laugh. “They might be.” “It’s ridiculous,” Amy told her. “Especially Fitz’s family. I mean, seriously, who looks like that?” “Only the Vackers,” Sophie assured her.

I walked stiffly past the worst hussy of them all: my former BFF, who'd apparently decided to move in. Jessica had been at the restaurant every day for over two weeks. Most days more than once. I knew she was hot for my man, but holy cow. Clearly I'd have to say yes to Reyes soon. This was getting ridiculous. he needed a ring on his finger--and fast.

Where's your car? Miles asks, glancing at him as he slams his door shut and slings his backpack over his shoulder. "And whats up with your hand?" "I got rid of it," Damen says, gaze fixed on mine. Then glancing at Miles and seeing his expression he adds, "The car, not the hand." "Did you trade it in?" I ask, but only because Miles is listening. [...] He shakes his head and walks me to the gate, smiling as he says, "No, I just dropped off on the side of the road, key in the ignition, engine running." "Excuse me?!" Miles yelps. "You mean to tell me that you left your shiny, black, BMW M6 Coupe—by the side of the road?" Damen nods. But thats a hundred-thousand-dollar car!" Miles gasps as his face turns bright red. "A hundreds and ten." Damen laughs. "Don't forget, it was fully customized and loaded with options." Miles stares at him, eyes practically bugging out of his head, unable to comprehend how anyone could do such a thing—why anyone would do such a thing. "Um, okay, so let me get this straight—you just woke up and decided—Hey, what the hell? I think I'll just dump my ridiculously expensive luxury car by the side of the road—WHERE JUST ANYONE CAN TAKE IT?" Damen shrugs. "Pretty much." "Because in case you haven't noticed," Miles says, practically hyperventilating now. "Some of us are a little car deprived. Some of us were born with parents so cruel and unusual they're forced to rely on the kindness of friends for the rest of their lives!" "Sorry." Damen shrugs. "Guess I hadn't thought about that. Though if it makes you feel any better, it was all for a very good cause.

It is very easy to get ridiculously confused about the tenses of time travel, but most things can be resolved by a sufficiently large ego.

I could tell she was one of those ridiculously gorgeous southern blondes. It was like the South had some special ingredient to raise them like that down here.

I don’t believe in soul mates, not exactly. I think it’s ridiculous to think that there’s only one person out there for us. What is your ‘soul mate’ lives in Zimbabwe? What is he dies young? I also think ‘two souls becoming one’ is ridiculous. You need to hold onto yourself.

He makes you a little bit stupid, Logan Mitchell . And that makes me ridiculously happy.

I frowned as something ridiculous occurred to me. “In the movies and on TV, there are all these ancient vampires taking math and PE with a bunch of teenagers, and I always thought that was the stupidest thing. I mean, if you had eternity to spend however you want—and for the most part, we do—why the hell would you go back to high school? What on earth was I thinking?

I am not being ridiculous,” said Lupin steadily. “Tonks deserves somebody young and whole.” “But she wants you,” said Mr. Weasley, with a small smile. “And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so.

I don't believe in soul mates, not exactly. I think it's ridiculous to think there's only one person out there for us. What if your "soul mate" lives in Zimbabwe? What if he dies young? I also think "two souls becoming one" is ridiculous. You need to hold onto yourself. But I do believe in souls being in sync, souls that mirror each other.

I don’t believe in soul mates, not exactly. I think it’s ridiculous to think that there’s only one person out there for us. What if your ‘soul mate’ lives in Zimbabwe? What if he dies young? I also think ‘two souls becoming one’ is ridiculous. You need to hold onto yourself.

Jules was frozen with incredulity. In truth, he could not speak. He was touched by the display of honor in two country squires, and by the humbling - in truth hilarious - definitive evidence that some things were beyond his control. And life knew what was best for him better than he did, and had brought it to him, not with graceful precision, but with magnificent, ridiculous poetry.

AN INCOMPLETE LIST: THINGS I LOVE ABOUT HRH PRINCE HENRY OF WALES 1. The sound of your laugh when I piss you off. 2. The way you smell underneath your fancy cologne, like clean linens but somehow also fresh grass (what kind of magic is this?) 3. That thing you do where you stick out your chin to try to look tough. 4. How your hands look when you play piano. 5. All he things I understand about myself now because of you. 6. How you think Return of the Jedi is the best Star Wars (wrong) because deep down you're a gigantic, sappy, embarrassing romantic who just wants the happily ever after. 7. Your ability to recite Keats. 8. Your ability to recite Bernadette's "Don't let it drag you down" monologue from Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. 9. How hard you try. 10. How hard you've always tried. 11. How determined you are to keep trying. 12. That when your shoulders cover mine, nothing else in the entire stupid world matters. 13. The goddamn issue of Le Monde you brought back to London with you and kept and have on your nightstand (yes, I saw it). 14. The way you look when you first wake up. 15. Your shoulder-to-waist ratio. 16. Your huge, generous, ridiculous, indestructible heart. 17. Your equally huge dick. 18. The face you just made when you read that last one. 19. The way you look when you first wake up (I know I already said this, but I really, really love it). 20. The fact that you loved me all along.

You’re being ridiculous. In the end I’ll be more famous than you anyway. Cassius Bellona, the Man Who Killed Fear.

Remus Lupin: I am not being ridiculous. Tonks deserves somebody young and whole. Mr. Weasley: But she wants you. And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so

Honeybuns?" Zephyr tugged his arm, and Lyla raised her eyebrow at the fact that Alpha actually responded to the ridiculous nickname. She had seen him respond to all the ridiculous nicknames. "Yes, rainbow?

I've been ridiculed by silk-suited lawyers, jailed by ornery judges, and occasionally paid for services rendered. I never intended to be a hero, and I succeeded.

I hate running. Hate, hate, hate it. Running is something that skinny people do so they can brag about it to those of us who come in adult sizes. I’m actually an okay sprinter. I’ve got long legs, and I’m surprisingly nimble for a big dude, but distance running is for masochists and crazy people who want to collect foot problems and repetitive stress injuries. My insane runner friends kept trying to tell me that at some point you were supposed to get this euphoric feeling during a run, but as far as I could tell that was propaganda they told themselves to feel better about having such a ridiculous pastime. The closest I ever came to euphoria was when the aches got numb. Running sucks.

Don’t be ridiculous. She’s not even the kind of female I’d be attracted to.” “Because she can construct and verbally repeat full and complete sentences?

It came to me that it was possible to be afraid of your own fear, and that such a phenomenon was utterly ridiculous.

ridiculous sexist television that didn’t hesitate to show a woman’s genitals but never a man’s.

Now, no complaining, Waxillium. It will help. I’ve put the list in this little book,” Steris said, producing a palm-sized notebook, “for ease of reference. Each page contains a conversation opener, indexed to the people it will likely work best upon. The numbers below list ways you could segue the conversation into useful areas and perhaps figure out what our targets are up to, and what their connection is to the Bands of Mourning.” “I’m not socially incompetent, Steris,” Wax said. “I can make small talk.” “I know that,” Steris said, “but I’d rather avoid an incident like the Cett party.…” “Which Cett party?” “The one where you head-butted someone.” He cocked his head. “Oh, right. That smarmy little man with the ridiculous mustache.

Thomas shook his head, ignoring his friend's jests. "This isn't funny," he bit out. "Says you," Paul said. "From where I'm standing, this entire ordeal is ridiculous and absurd and I'm dying to catch the conclusion of this farce.

Except proof that Keefe’s dad is even more ridiculous than my father,” Tam added. “Do you know he has an entire room dedicated to himself, complete with a life-size statue made of lumenite? It glows, guys. I’m going to have nightmares about it.

My insane runner friends kept trying to tell me that at some point you were supposed to get this euphoric feeling during a run, but as far as I could tell that was propaganda they told themselves to feel better about having such a ridiculous pastime.

As the door closes behind him, I think on the stupidity of war. How ridiculous we must be to wage it when emotions like love run so much deeper in us than hate. By the time Kavax makes it back to me, I am ready for the enemy to come. I have more reasons to fight than they do. My armor is my love.

It’s ridiculous how the man sees me naked every day. He knows what I look like, but the second I put on a sexy dress, he can’t seem to control himself…and wants to take it off as soon as he can. So while men might like what we look like without clothes on, they love when we cover up our bits and tease them.

I guess that makes sense. And by the way—your friends?” Amy glanced over her shoulder to take another peek at them. “Are they in a contest to see who can be the most gorgeous or something?” Sophie had to laugh. “They might be.” “It’s ridiculous,” Amy told her. “Especially Fitz’s family. I mean, seriously, who looks like that?

We should welcome artists to our shores because this is a haven, isn't it? It's got a big iron lady out there in the sea there saying welcome to the shore and they were trying to kick me out: it's ridiculous when you look back on it, because the most I could have done was gather a big gang of demonstrators together which the police could have shot, so what were they complaining about?

Would you like to hear a song while I cut your hair? There's one my sister Pandora and I wrote, called Pig in the House." Looking intrigued, Bazzle nodded. Cassandra launched into a sublimely ridiculous song about the antics of two sisters trying to hide their pet pig from the farmer, the butcher, the cook, and a local squire who was especially fond of bacon. While she sang, she moved around Bazzle's head, snipping off long locks and dropping them into a pail Garrett held for her. Bazzle listened as if spellbound, occasionally chortling at the silly lyrics. As soon as the song was finished, he demanded another, and sat while Cassandra continued with My Dog Thinks He's a Chicken, followed by Why Frogs are Slimy and Toads are Dry. Had Tom been capable of falling in love, he would have right there and then, as he watched Lady Cassandra Ravenel serenade a ragamuffin while cutting his hair. She was so capable and clever and adorable, it made his chest ache with a hot pressure that threatened to fracture something. "She has a marvelous way with children," Garrett murmured to him at one point, clearly delighted by the situation. She had a way with everyone. Especially him. He'd never been besotted like this. It was intolerable.

SHORT NOTE ABOUT SHA-1 A lot of people become concerned at some point that they will, by random happenstance, have two objects in their repository that hash to the same SHA-1 value. What then? If you do happen to commit an object that hashes to the same SHA-1 value as a previous object in your repository, Git will see the previous object already in your Git database and assume it was already written. If you try to check out that object again at some point, you’ll always get the data of the first object. However, you should be aware of how ridiculously unlikely this scenario is. The SHA-1 digest is 20 bytes or 160 bits. The number of randomly hashed objects needed to ensure a 50% probability of a single collision is about 280 (the formula for determining collision probability is p = (n(n-1)/2) * (1/2^160)). 280 is 1.2 x 10^24 or 1 million billion billion. That’s 1,200 times the number of grains of sand on the earth. Here’s an example to give you an idea of what it would take to get a SHA-1 collision. If all 6.5 billion humans on Earth were programming, and every second, each one was producing code that was the equivalent of the entire Linux kernel history (3.6 million Git objects) and pushing it into one enormous Git repository, it would take roughly 2 years until that repository contained enough objects to have a 50% probability of a single SHA-1 object collision. A higher probability exists that every member of your programming team will be attacked and killed by wolves in unrelated incidents on the same night.

What we learn is how important modesty of ambition is. It’s where we see how love can be so beneficially detached from expectation and from reciprocation. The grandmother never hopes to be understood by the child. It is enough to spend a nice day, without doing much: we saw a pony, had some milk, played a game of cards, tried doing a painting of a flower. Quite soon, the 6-year-old will start to think this is a ridiculous day. And it may take six decades before they relearn that it is the purpose and meaning of life.

Contrary to what she expected, kids didn’t really run around outside and play in the subdivision. Instead, everything was coordinated by scheduled activity and playdate, so every day she would spend the hours from 3:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. shuttling her children to and from all the places they needed to be: swimming, chess, ballet, Hebrew school, jazz, soccer, music lessons, and more—what Roseman describes as “all the ridiculous things you sign them up for because they can’t just go outside and do something with their friends for three hours.

What else raises your blood, your spirits, your whole being, to the highest pitch, so that life is triumphant, or tragic, as the case may be, and so that every day is worth a year of common life? When you sit trembling for a letter? When the whole of life is filled with meaning, double-shotted? To be sure, when you actually come to what some have called the right true end, you may find the position ridiculous, and the pleasure momentary; but novels, upon the whole, are concerned with getting there. And for that matter, what else makes the world go round?

It doesn’t last very long, you know. Women have a much worse time of it in the world than men do. They’re more vulnerable. They have children, and they mind—terribly—about their children. As soon as they lose their looks, the men they love don’t love them anymore. They’re betrayed and deserted and pushed aside. I don’t blame men. I’d be the same myself. I don’t like people who are old or ugly or ill, or who whine about their troubles, or who are ridiculous like Edgar, strutting about and pretending he’s important and worthwhile. You say I’m cruel? It’s a cruel world! Sooner or later it will be cruel to me! But now I’m young and I’m nice looking and people find me attractive.” Her teeth flashed out in her peculiar, warm sunny smile. “Yes, I enjoy it, Alex. Why shouldn’t I?

Many Roman and Greek intellectuals had shown profound distaste for such an involved deity. The idea that a divine being was watching every move of every human being was, to these observers, not a sign of great love but a “monstrous” absurdity. The Christian God in their writings was frequently described as a prurient busybody, a peculiar “nuisance” who was “restless, shamelessly curious, being present at man’s every act.”6 Why was He so interested in the every doing of mere mortals? Even before Christianity, sophisticated Roman thinkers had poured scorn on such an idea. As Pliny the Elder had put it: “that [a] supreme being, whate’er it be, pays heed to man’s affairs is a ridiculous notion. Can we believe that it would not be defied by so gloomy and so multifarious a duty?”7 Didn’t a god have better things to do?

The irony is that their enthusiasm for personal revelation can backfire badly and have the opposite effect. People become their own worst enemies and don’t need anyone else’s help in making themselves the brunt of gossip, judgment, and ridicule. A person who overshares demonstrates a lack of dignity, maturity, and discrimination, and it may also be a strong indicator of self-absorbed narcissism and exhibitionism.

But even democracy ruins itself by excess—of democracy. Its basic principle is the equal right of all to hold office and determine public policy. This is at first glance a delightful arrangement; it becomes disastrous because the people are not properly equipped by education to select the best rulers 6nd the wisest courses (588). "As to the people they have no understanding, and only repeat what their rulers are pleased to tell them" (Protagoras, 317); to get a doctrine accepted or rejected it is only necessary to have it praised or ridiculed in a popular play (a hit, no doubt, at Aristophanes, whose comedies attacked almost every new idea). Mob-rule is a rough sea for the ship of state to ride; every wind of oratory stirs up the waters and deflects the course. The upshot of such a democracy is tyranny or autocracy; the crowd do loves flattery, it is so "hungry for honey," that at last the wiliest and most unscrupulous flatterer, calling himself the "protector of the people" rises to supreme power

In the following pages I shall apply the term "poisonous pedagogy" to this very complex endeavor. It will be clear from the context in question which of its many facets I am emphasizing at the moment. The specific facets can be derived directly from the preceding quotations from child-rearing manuals. These passages teach us that: 1. Adults are the masters (not the servants!) of the dependent child. 2. They determine in godlike fashion what is right and what is wrong. 3. The child is held responsible for their anger. 4. The parents must always be shielded. 5. The child's life affirming feelings pose a threat to the autocratic adult. 6. The child's will must be "broken" as soon as possible. 7. All this must happen at a very early age, so the child "won't notice" and will therefore not be able to expose the adults. The methods that can be used to suppress vital spontaneity in the child are: laying traps, lying, duplicity, subterfuge, manipulation, "scare" tactics, withdrawal of love, isolation, distrust, humiliating and disgracing the child, scorn, ridicule, and coercion even to the point of torture.

Her topaz eyes filled with sadness, she shook her head. "Exchanging names is what people do when they meet." "Yes, but I'm not a..." he stopped just short of saying "person." They had long ago stripped that last bit of dignity out of him. He didn't know what he was anymore. Not really. But she didn't need to know that either. "You're not what?" she asked after a minute. "Human." Lydia sensed that that wasn't what he'd started to say. "But you do have a name, don't you?" He nodded. "You may call me Master." Fire burned bright in her eyes as she curled her lip derisively. "I call no man Master. Ever. And that includes you, for the record, buster. So get over yourself. Gah! I can't believe the nerve of you." Those words angered him. "Are you mocking me?" Lydia seethed at his ridiculous question. "Aren't you mocking me?" He actually managed to appear stunned by that. Several other emotions she couldn't identify flickered over his features as more blood trickled from his nose. Absently, he wiped it away before he spoke again. "How so?" She closed the distance between them, wanting to strangle him for it. Was he really that dense? "Telling me to call you Master? What kind of bullshit is that? No one owns me and they damn sure don't control me.

We are spending at the present $3,500,000 per day, $1,000,095,000 per year, to maintain prison institutions, and that in a democratic country,—a sum almost as large as the combined output of wheat, valued at $750,000,000, and the output of coal, valued at $350,000,000. Professor Bushnell of Washington, D.C., estimates the cost of prisons at $6,000,000,000 annually, and Dr. G. Frank Lydston, an eminent American writer on crime, gives $5,000,000,000 annually as a reasonable figure. Such unheard-of expenditure for the purpose of maintaining vast armies of human beings caged up like wild beasts![1] Yet crimes are on the increase. Thus we learn that in America there are four and a half times as many crimes to every million population today as there were twenty years ago. The most horrible aspect is that our national crime is murder, not robbery, embezzlement, or rape, as in the South. London is five times as large as Chicago, yet there are one hundred and eighteen murders annually in the latter city, while only twenty in London. Nor is Chicago the leading city in crime, since it is only seventh on the list, which is headed by four Southern cities, and San Francisco and Los Angeles. In view of such a terrible condition of affairs, it seems ridiculous to prate of the protection society derives from its prisons.

Only date people who respect your standards and make you a better person when you’re with them. Consider the message of the movie A Walk to Remember. Landon Carter is the reckless leader who is skating through high school on his good looks and bravado. He and his popular friends at Beaufort High publicly ridicule everyone who doesn’t fit in, including the unfashionable Jamie Sullivan, who wears the same sweater day after day and gives free tutoring lessons to struggling students. By accident, events thrust Landon into Jamie’s world and he can’t help but notice that Jamie’s different. She doesn’t care about conforming and fitting in with the popular kids. Landon’s amazed at how sure of herself she seems and asks, “Don’t you care what people think about you?” As he spends more time with her, he realizes she has more freedom than he does because she isn’t controlled by the opinions of others, as he is. Soon, despite their intentions not to, they have fallen in love and Landon has to choose between his status at Beaufort...and Jamie. “This girl’s changed you,” his best friend yells, “and you don’t even know it.” Landon admits, “She has faith in me. She wants me to be better.” He chooses her. After high school graduation, Jamie reveals to Landon that she’s dying of leukemia. During her final months, Landon does all he can to make her dreams come true, including marrying her in the same church her mother and father were married in. They spend a wonderful summer together, truly in love. Despite Jamie’s dream for a miracle, she dies. Heartbroken, but inspired by Jamie’s belief in him, Landon works hard to go to medical school. But he laments to her father that he couldn’t fulfill her last desire, to see a miracle. Jamie’s father assures him that Jamie did see a miracle before she died, for someone’s heart had truly changed. And it was his. Now that’s a movie to remember! Never apologize for having high standards and don’t ever lower your standards to please someone else.

Hey cupcake!” he says, like he just had a great idea. “I’m so glad you’re here.” “Me too,” I say. “I thought you were ready to kick me to the curb.” I was. But when I found out he was hurt, it nearly gutted me. “Would if I could,” I say. “Do you think you could fall in love with me, cupcake?” he blurts out. I’m startled. I know he’s medicated, so I shouldn’t put any stock into his words, but I can’t help it. “You should get some rest,” I say. Tap. Tap. “So, that would be a no.” He whistles. Then he scrunches up his face when it makes his head hurt. “I’m in trouble,” he whispers quietly. “What?” He squeezes my hand. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, cupcake,” he says. “I just wish you could love me back.” “You’ve had a lot of pain meds,” I say. Suddenly, he grabs the neck of my shirt and jerks me so that I fall over his chest. His lips are right next to mine. “Listen to me,” he says. “Okay,” I whisper. “I don’t have much going for me, but I know what love feels like.” “How?” “It just is, cupcake. You don’t get to pick who you fall in love with. And God knows, if my head could pick, it wouldn’t be you.” I push back to get off his chest, because I’m offended. But he holds me tight. “You’re not easy to love, because you can’t love me back. But you might one day. I’ll wait. But you got to start taking my calls.” He cups the back of my head and brings my face toward his. A cough from the doorway startles us apart. I stand up and pull my shirt down where he rucked it up. “Visiting hours are over,” a nurse says. “She’s not a visitor,” he says. She comes and inserts a needle into his IV, and his eyes close. He doesn’t open them when he says, “She’s going to marry me one day. She just doesn’t know it yet.” His head falls to the side and he starts to softly snore. His hand goes slack around mine. I pull back, my heart skipping like mad. “They say some of the most ridiculous things when they’re medicated.” The nurse shakes her head. “He probably won’t remember any of this tomorrow.” Pete

Hi Tim, Patience. Far too soon to expect strength improvements. Strength improvements [for a movement like this] take a minimum of 6 weeks. Any perceived improvements prior to that are simply the result of improved synaptic facilitation. In plain English, the central nervous system simply became more efficient at that particular movement with practice. This is, however, not to be confused with actual strength gains. Dealing with the temporary frustration of not making progress is an integral part of the path towards excellence. In fact, it is essential and something that every single elite athlete has had to learn to deal with. If the pursuit of excellence was easy, everyone would do it. In fact, this impatience in dealing with frustration is the primary reason that most people fail to achieve their goals. Unreasonable expectations timewise, resulting in unnecessary frustration, due to a perceived feeling of failure. Achieving the extraordinary is not a linear process. The secret is to show up, do the work, and go home. A blue collar work ethic married to indomitable will. It is literally that simple. Nothing interferes. Nothing can sway you from your purpose. Once the decision is made, simply refuse to budge. Refuse to compromise. And accept that quality long-term results require quality long-term focus. No emotion. No drama. No beating yourself up over small bumps in the road. Learn to enjoy and appreciate the process. This is especially important because you are going to spend far more time on the actual journey than with those all too brief moments of triumph at the end. Certainly celebrate the moments of triumph when they occur. More importantly, learn from defeats when they happen. In fact, if you are not encountering defeat on a fairly regular basis, you are not trying hard enough. And absolutely refuse to accept less than your best. Throw out a timeline. It will take what it takes. If the commitment is to a long-term goal and not to a series of smaller intermediate goals, then only one decision needs to be made and adhered to. Clear, simple, straightforward. Much easier to maintain than having to make small decision after small decision to stay the course when dealing with each step along the way. This provides far too many opportunities to inadvertently drift from your chosen goal. The single decision is one of the most powerful tools in the toolbox. 2 Wealthy “If you set your goals ridiculously high and it’s a failure, you will fail above everyone else’s success.” —James Cameron

Through the years I experimented with all different types of materials and frames. Finally, I settled upon one that was so simple, easy, and inexpensive to use that it was almost ridiculous. Then I began growing all different types of plants vertically. I originally thought I would need to design some special way to hold up and accommodate heavier fruits such as winter squash and pumpkins, but as it turned out, these plant vines seemed to understand the situation; the stem supporting the heavy fruit grows thicker and heavier as the fruit becomes larger. If you have a framework and support that will hold the plant, the plant will hold the fruit; it is as simple as that! Mother Nature always seems to know best. Pea and bean netting can be stretched taut across a box frame and held in place by four metal posts. Plants will then grow up through the netting and be supported. Best Material I use the strongest material I can find, which is steel. Fortunately, steel comes in tubular pipe used for electrical conduit. It is very strong and turns out to be very inexpensive. Couplings are also available so you can connect two pieces together. I designed an attractive frame that fits right onto the 4 × 4 box, and it can be attached to the wooden box with clamps that can be bought at any store. Or, steel reinforcing rods driven into the existing ground outside your box provide a very steady and strong base; then the electrical conduit slips snugly over the bars. It’s very simple and inexpensive to assemble. Anyone can do it—even you! To prevent vertically grown plants from shading other parts of the garden, I recommend that tall, vertical frames be constructed on the north side of the garden. To fit it into a 4 × 4 box, I designed a frame that measured 4 feet wide and almost 6 feet tall. Tie It Tight Vertically growing plants need to be tied to their supports. Nylon netting won’t rot in the sun and weather, and I use it exclusively now for both vertical frames and horizontal plant supports. It is very strong—almost unbreakable—and guaranteed for twenty years. It is a wonderful material available at garden stores and in catalogs. The nylon netting is also durable enough to grow the heavier vine crops on vertical frames, including watermelons, pumpkins, cantaloupes, winter and summer squashes, and tomatoes. You will see in Chapter 8 how easy it is to train plants to grow vertically. To hold the plants to the frame, I have found that nylon netting with 7-inch square openings made especially for tomato growing works well because you can reach your hand through. Make sure it is this type so it won’t cut the stem of the plant when it blows against it in the wind. This comes in 4-foot widths and can easily be tied to the metal frame. It’s sometimes hard to find, so call around.

Mmm.” Harley was gorgeous. He had a nest of red pubic hair. His balls were tight and nearly perfectly matched. His dick was thicker than mine but not as long. His shaft was curved slightly to the right with a bunching of foreskin at the end. His cockhead and piss slit peeked through. He was ridiculously pale expect for his cockhead which was blushed. “You. Are. Perfect.” Harley

What happens when you give people a 2nd chance? They blame you for it. What happens when you give people a 3rd chance? They ridicule you. What happens when you give them a 4th chance? They make sure they will have a 5th. What happens when you give them a 5th? They blame you for everything and laugh at you. What happens when you give them a 6th? At this point, they try to kill you by accident before you even have another chance of living them. What happens when you give them a 7th chance? They punish you for all the chances you have given them before and betray you in the most horrible way they can, proving that they didn’t deserve not even one chance at anything. Forgiveness is not for everyone, and those that deserve it never reach the point of even needing it.

These world-class performers don’t have superpowers. The rules they’ve crafted for themselves allow the bending of reality to such an extent that it may seem that way, but they’ve learned how to do this, and so can you. These “rules” are often uncommon habits and bigger questions. In a surprising number of cases, the power is in the absurd. The more absurd, the more “impossible” the question, the more profound the answers. Take, for instance, a question that serial billionaire Peter Thiel likes to ask himself and others: “If you have a 10-year plan of how to get [somewhere], you should ask: Why can’t you do this in 6 months?” For purposes of illustration here, I might reword that to: “What might you do to accomplish your 10-year goals in the next 6 months, if you had a gun against your head?” Now, let’s pause. Do I expect you to take 10 seconds to ponder this and then magically accomplish 10 years’ worth of dreams in the next few months? No, I don’t. But I do expect that the question will productively break your mind, like a butterfly shattering a chrysalis to emerge with new capabilities. The “normal” systems you have in place, the social rules you’ve forced upon yourself, the standard frameworks—they don’t work when answering a question like this. You are forced to shed artificial constraints, like shedding a skin, to realize that you had the ability to renegotiate your reality all along. It just takes practice. My suggestion is that you spend real time with the questions you find most ridiculous in this book. Thirty minutes of stream-of-consciousness journaling (page 224) could change your life. On top of that, while the world is a gold mine, you need to go digging in other people’s heads to unearth riches. Questions are your pickaxes and competitive advantage. This book will give you an arsenal to choose from.

She had known his faults and weaknesses, and was probably aware that he was inferior to herself in character and intellect. But, nevertheless, she had loved him. To her he had been, though not heroic, sufficiently a man to win her heart. He was a gentleman, pleasant-mannered, pleasant to look at, pleasant to talk to, not educated in the high sense of the word, but never making himself ridiculous by ignorance.

Valkyrie frowned. “You think this is a trap?” “I don’t know,” he said, “but I try not to underestimate my opponents, no matter how ridiculous their beards.

Compared to Austin’s pack, they looked absolutely ridiculous. It was perfect.

Modern culture treats sex outside of marriagea as being no big deal. It’s considered completely normal and not something to be ashamed of; if anything, people brag about it and argue that it’s a positive good. It’s described as being a “casual” activity; something you can do with “no strings attached.” You can supposedly have meaningless “hookups,” “one-night stands,” or text your “friends with benefits” to set up a “booty call,” which is probably the most unromantic thing I can even think of. This idea that sex outside of marriage is OK is probably the biggest lie we are told, and the biggest source of our problems—not just in dating, but in all of life. I know that is a bold statement, but consider the evidence: after the so-called “sexual revolution” of the 1960s, divorce rates doubled, followed by an ongoing decline in marriage rates.1 Currently, 40 percent of children in the United States are born out of wedlock, without a stable, married, two-parent family; in the 1960s, at the start of the sexual revolution, that number was just 7 percent.2 Besides those births, there have been 60 million US children killed before birth via abortion since 1973.3 Sexually transmitted diseases (STDs), which would be almost nonexistent if all people were monogamous,b are instead at record highs,4 with something like 20 million new infections in the country each year.5 Pornography use has become so common that it’s just kind of assumed for men but is also regularly consumed by at least a third of all women.6 And then you have all the ways people use and abuse sex as a way to use and abuse other people through either harassment or assault, which is a huge problem: it’s estimated that one in five women are raped at some point in their lives,7 while the majority are either harassed or assaulted in some form.8 Go beyond the statistics and think about how all these things would affect the actual people involved, and all the various costs associated with each one. Add it all up, and the impact both on society and on individual relationships is ridiculously massive.

She has certain friends whom she met through her former work with the railways. Two of them removed Mrs Naylor from the ward. No attempt was made to have her properly discharged. It was a ridiculous act perpetrated by a pair of foolish girls with no knowledge or understanding of the married state. Could it be that her so-called friends prevailed upon Mrs Naylor to press charges against her husband?

If ever there was a period in the history of our country when there was occasion for weeping over it, that period is the one in which we ourselves are living. Is this England of ours a Christian land in any real and true sense? Is there not some reason for fearing that we are living in the afterglow of Christianity? Outside the Catholic Church are not the ties of Christianity being almost everywhere loosened? Is not its dogmatic teaching being almost universally ridiculed, while its moral obligations are just tossed to the winds as though worthless as the dust in our streets? Are not congresses declaring constantly that the education of our children must be free and secular, that the Words of Christ must be banished from the schools, and that not a penny of the rates and taxes should be spent on "cramming dogmas down the throats of children"? Do we not recognize around us a spirit of discontent with all that is, with Society as at present constituted, and with religion as identified with politics, or with the State? I will not refer to the desecrations of the marriage bond, nor to the destruction of home life, nor to the prevention of child-bearing, nor the other social and domestic horrors, which all go to prove incontestably that the Christianity of Christ is ceasing to be the leaven which alone can spiritualise now, as it spiritualised in the past. (chapter 6)

Is it harder to be around me?” she asked. “Since my emotions are stronger?” His lips tugged into a smile. “Don’t worry, you’re worth it.” “Ugh—why didn’t you tell me?” She stood, moving toward the door, trying to put as much space between them as she could. He laughed. “Trust me, a few feet doesn’t make a difference.” “Then you should stay away from me,” she told him. “Now you’re being ridiculous.” He strode over to her, and she tried to back away but crashed into the wall. “I’m serious, Keefe.” “Oh, I know. But you’re forgetting something, Foster.” He was close enough to reach out and gently tuck her hair behind her ear as he leaned in to whisper, “I like a challenge.” His breath tickled her skin, and her stomach filled with fluttery things. “Speechless again?” he asked, grinning as he leaned in to whisper, “You know, there’s—

Ridiculous green shamrock hats and glasses that Conor and Shane are going to hate but will wear anyway because you’re going to ask them to?” “Locked and loaded and ready to go.

Where are your pajamas?” she asks us. “Um. Wearing em,” I say, pointing down at the ridiculous pants. “You’re supposed to wear the whole ensemble,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “Now you don’t look like Santa, just…” she chews on her lip as her eyes roam over the four of us. “Just what, angel?” Conor asks. “Just four super hot…” She waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. I can work with it,” she adds with a soft sigh. “But what the hell are you wearing, baby?” my twin asks as she walks toward the four of us. “I’m Mrs. Claus,” she whispers.

The Son of Man stood before the throne of witnesses and began his legal defense of Yahweh’s War. Mikael waited impatiently in his place, knowing that he was needed by Israel as soon as they could get this ridiculous restraining order thrown out of court. Unlike the Accuser, the Son of Man would follow protocol and properly give honor to the Judge of all things. “Let the heavens praise your wonders, O Yahweh, your faithfulness in the assembly of the holy ones! For who in the skies can be compared to Yahweh? Who among the gods is like Yahweh, a God greatly to be feared in the council of the holy ones, and awesome above all who are around him? O Yahweh Elohim of hosts, the heavens are yours; the earth also is yours; the world and all that is in it, you have founded them. You have taken your place in the divine council; in the midst of the gods you hold judgment.

And in the measured, sonorous lines of sentiment he offered her, in the tenderness of his hand caressing her hair, Louisa found hope that even her husband—her dark, limping, occasionally ridiculous husband—might be a little besotted too. ***

I am being ridiculous.” She did wave the handkerchief, but then she dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I’ll see them all again in just a few days at the Christmas gathering, and the children too. I suppose an excess of sentiment can be forgiven. I hadn’t seen St. Just in months, and Maggie is expecting, but I’ll see a great deal of Sophie—” He hauled her against his side and gently pushed her head to his shoulder. “We’ll visit all you like, all over the realm, even the perishing West Riding if St. Just insists on ruralizing there. I did want to take you to Paris in the spring, however, and you’d like Lisbon too, even if it gets quite hot. I’m not as fond of Rome, though Sicily has all manner of ruins you might find interesting.” Her

I take it you intend to linger in this vicinity, Wife?” He was peering at her in the gloom. Louisa pitched the cloth to the night table and had the sense Joseph was trying to see her without revealing much of himself. “I had planned on sharing this bed with you for the next forty years or so, Joseph Carrington. If the notion does not appeal—” He was over her in an instant. “Sixty,” he growled. “Sixty at least, or seventy. There are people who have lived to be a hundred, though much more of this conjugal bliss, and five-and-thirty might be a stretch. I sustained wounds on the Peninsula, you know.” Louisa wrestled the covers up over him. “I married a ridiculous man.” He sighed and dropped his forehead to hers. “A ridiculous brute. Are you all right, Louisa? We became more impassioned than was perhaps wise for a first encounter.” “No, I am not all right.” He pulled back, real concern—even panic—showing in his gaze. “Wife, I am abjectly sorry. We’ll rouse the servants and order you a hot, soaking bath. I most humbly beg—” She put her hand over his mouth. “You are being ridiculous again, Joseph Carrington. I am not merely all right. I am most pleased. I am most definitely pleased.” And besotted. She was most definitely besotted with her husband too, though that was hardly convenient, dignified, or worth mentioning. He subsided against her on a grand sigh. “I am most pleased, as well.” Some

let’s think about Jesus’s statement. It’s a command against something that many of us feel is involuntary. I mean, I don’t normally think I choose anxiety. I’ve never said to my husband, “Honey, I’m going to take some time to go for a walk and just focus on how I can make myself feel utterly out of control and stressed out. I will fixate on all the things I’m unhappy about or I can’t change in my life, and hopefully when I return, I will be a raving lunatic.” That would be ridiculous. But, if you think about it, Jesus states this as if it is indeed a choice. Do not worry. It’s a command from Jesus

If they were, they might not care for an article by Rand, published in Cosmopolitan in April 1963, in which she distinguished between “Money-Makers” and “Money-Appropriators.”6 Rand’s views were rooted in the long-gone days of heavy industry, so she admired “Money-Makers” who exemplify “the discoverer who translates his discovery into material goods.” The Money-Appropriator, on the other hand, “is essentially noncreative—and his basic goal is to acquire an unearned share of wealth created by others. He seeks to get rich, not by conquering nature, but by manipulating men” and by “social maneuvering.” The Money-Appropriator “does not produce, he redistributes; he merely switches the wealth already in existence from the pockets of its owners to his own.” Rand was aiming her ridicule directly at Wall Street. In the article, she quoted her longtime associate Alan Greenspan addressing “what percentage of men in our business world he would regard as authentic Money-Makers—as men of fully sovereign, independent judgment.” Greenspan’s response, “a little sadly: ‘On Wall Street—about five per cent; in industry—about fifteen.

I want a bath.” “Only if I’m there to give it to you,” he said, then heard his words and wondered where they’d come from. Oh, aye, he was trying to keep her safe. It would be a poor thing indeed if all his fine tending was ruined by a foolish bath. “Richard!” Her face was scarlet. Richard suppressed the urge to pull his suddenly stifling tunic away from his neck. “You’ll require aid,” he said defensively. “Would you rather have Warren help you?” “I’d rather have that little girl that helps Cook.” “She’s a child. She isn’t strong enough to hold you up should you faint.” “I don’t want you to do it,” Jessica insisted. Richard set his jaw. This wasn’t the time or the place he’d wanted to discuss their betrothal, but Jessica was being ridiculous and likely only because she didn’t understand their situation. “I have every right to do it,” he growled. Her gaze flew to his. She looked startled. “I beg your pardon?” “Those words we spoke,” he said, gesturing in the direction of the bed. “You remember which ones.” She ducked her head so quickly he didn’t have a chance to see the effect of his words. “The betrothal?” Her voice was barely audible. He cleared his throat roughly. “Aye,” he answered. “The betrothal.

BE WISE Don’t tell your husband your truth if he will use it to hurt, ridicule, manipulate, trap, or abuse you. Matthew 7:6 says, “Do not throw your pearls to pigs.” Your truth is the center of who you are. It is precious and needs to be protected. Be careful not to expose too much of your heart to someone who will stomp all over it. 8 SET BOUNDARIES The Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline (2 Timothy 1:7).

March 3 Vexation … Her rival kept provoking her in order to irritate her.—1 Samuel 1:6b We don’t use the word rival much in referring to relationships in the office, neighborhood or family. It’s a word used in game-playing or competitive sports. Yet, there is probably one person who loves to push your buttons, who manipulates the conversation, who drinks the last cup of coffee and never makes another pot—you know who I’m talking about. Why, just thinking about the last little trick they pulled makes your face blush a bit with anger or embarrassment. Their daily digs or sick sarcasm is a constant wear on your attempts to be at peace while you do your job. At times you’ve thought of strangling them, but more often you simply try to avoid them. If you are a Christian, you are going to be targeted by the enemy of peace. Satan will send a few darts your way: a bossy co-worker, a meddling aunt, a gossipy neighbor and your most-of-the-time adoring husband to name a few. Don’t be surprised when it happens, because it will happen. Your peace is too good to be true in the world’s eyes. The world doesn’t understand it, the world can’t have it, and therefore the world doesn’t want you to have it either. Hannah’s story in 1 Samuel is an example of the woman who faces daily vexation from someone who is bent on robbing her of her peace and joy in the Lord. When she could take the ridicule no longer, she turned to the Lord. In bitterness of soul Hannah wept much and prayed to the Lord (1 Samuel 1:10). She called to God for release of the heaviness in her soul. Is your soul heavy because of conflict in relationships? I encourage you to pray for the person who is casting the darts. Forgive their trespasses against you, and ask for strength from the Lord. Ask boldly; He will hear your request. The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord blesses His people with peace (Psalm 29:11).

March 14 Obedience His servants ye are to whom ye obey. Romans 6:16 The first thing to do in examining the power that dominates me is to take hold of the unwelcome fact that I am responsible for being thus dominated because I have yielded. If I am a slave to myself, I am to blame for it because at a point away back I yielded myself to myself. Likewise, if I obey God I do so because I have yielded myself to Him. Yield in childhood to selfishness, and you will find it the most enchaining tyranny on earth. There is no power in the human soul of itself to break the bondage of a disposition formed by yielding. Yield for one second to anything in the nature of lust (remember what lust is: “I must have it at once,” whether it be the lust of the flesh or the lust of the mind, once yield and though you may hate yourself for having yielded, you are a bond-slave to that thing. There is no release in human power at all, but only in the Redemption. You must yield yourself in utter humiliation to the only One Who can break the dominating power, viz., the Lord Jesus Christ. “He hath anointed Me . . . to preach deliverance to the captives.” We find this out in the most ridiculously small ways—“Oh, I can give that habit up when I like.” You cannot, you will find that the habit absolutely dominates you because you yielded to it willingly. It is easy to sing—“He will break every fetter,” and at the same time be living a life of obvious slavery to yourself. Yielding to Jesus will break every form of slavery in any human life.

The United States is primarily a guilt-based culture. The dominant method of social control in this country involves teaching people to feel guilt about not living up to personal expectations. Contrast this with shame-based cultures like Japan. As researchers Ying Wong and Jeanne Tsai explain in their paper, Cultural Models of Shame and Guilt, shame is “associated with the fear of exposing one’s defective self to others. Guilt, on the other hand, is associated with the fear of not living up to one’s own standards.” In this formulation, guilt is based on failing to achieve personal ideals; shame is based on social exposure ["The Anti-Vaccine Movement Should Be Ridiculed, Because Shame Works," Gizmodo, February 6, 2015].

What happens when you give people a 2nd chance? They blame you for it. What happens when you give people a 3rd chance? They ridicule you. What happens when you give them a 4th chance? They make sure they will have a 5th. What happens when you give them a 5th? They blame you for everything and laugh at you. What happens when you give them a 6th? At this point, they try to kill you by accident before you even have another chance of leaving them. What happens when you give them a 7th chance? They punish you for all the chances you have given them before and betray you in the most horrible way they can, proving that they didn’t deserve not even one chance at anything. Forgiveness is not for everyone, and those that deserve it never reach the point of even needing it.

I think on the stupidity of war. How ridiculous we must be to wage it when emotions like love run so much deeper in us than hate.

The first gift I'd ever given to a girl in my life, and it was a toilet. What a ridiculous thought. (Ch 6)

It’s not too late,” she said, leaning forward on her elbows, looking into his eyes. “You can put an end to this.” His eyes slid away from hers. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. I knew it, she thought. “I can’t go back now,” he said. “I can only keep going along the path I’ve chosen.” “That’s ridiculous!” she said, with considerable spirit. “It’s never too late to admit you’ve made

You’ll notice that I use these ingredients again and again in lots of different formulations, so it’s a good idea to just keep them in the house. 3% hydrogen peroxide (what you get in the brown bottle): a whitener, stain-remover, and chlorine bleach alternative. Borax: Borax, or sodium borate, is a naturally occurring mineral. While it is not as gentle as baking soda, it mixes well with lemon, vinegar, and water for cleaning purposes and does clean quite well when used properly. See here (bathroom) for my favorite Borax trick. Cornstarch: Used in glass cleaner; super soft, provides the most gentle abrasion, and wipes off streak-free. Cream of tartar: Can remove stains when combined with vinegar or lemon juice. Rubbing alcohol: A quick-drying agent for some of my recipes and a dissolver of oil and grease. It is also known to disinfect. White vinegar: Can be used as a deodorizer, degreaser, stainless-steel cleaner, glass cleaner, and it does away with soap scum and limescale. Lemon can do almost anything that vinegar does, but there are practical reasons why I recommend vinegar, not least of all the ridiculousness of having to juice a bunch of lemons before cleaning. You can always sub in lemon juice for vinegar if you want to, but be aware that a product with lemon juice in it will go rancid, where vinegar will not, so any big batch meant to last for a while should contain vinegar. Remember, you can always amp up your vinegar game with 6 percent or 10 percent acidity.

Gram was just surprised at the ridiculous things cats would lay on top of. It almost seemed like they could understand what was valuable or seizing people’s attention, and that cats lay on those things to reclaim their rightful attention.

A delicate trace of a smile appeared on Passer’s face. Jan knew that smile well. it was not a joyous or an approving smile, but a smile of tolerance. They had always been far apart in their views, and in the rare moments when their differences became too visible, they would smile that smile to assure each other that their friendship was not in danger. 295 When things are repeated, they lose a fraction of their meaning. Or more exactly, they lose, drop by drop, the vital strength that gives them their illusory meaning. 295-6 It takes so little, a tiny puff of air, for things to shift imperceptibly, and whatever it was that a man was ready to lay down his life for a few seconds earlier seems suddenly to be sheer nonsense. 297 Whenever her mother-in-law had wanted something from them, she would weep. Weeping was her way of blaming them, and there was nothing more aggressive than her tears. 114 I calculate that two or three new fictional characters are baptized here on earth every second. 109 We shall flee rest, we shall flee sleep, We shall outrun dawn and spring And we shall shape days and seasons To the measure of our dreams. 94 All mysticism is excessive. The mystic must not be afraid of ridicule if he wants to go to the limits, the limits of humility or the limits of sensual pleasure. 80

found a pocket of forlorn, former conquerors, huddling under un-heated heaters in the bus station. They bitterly informed me they’d tried being “peaceful” today, and that hadn’t worked, so now it was probably time to use bombs, guns, and nooses to exterminate people with different ideas than them, including elected officials and civilians such as myself. They weren’t terrorists of course, they were “patriots,” it’d be ridiculous to suggest people who “blowed up” houses and hung corpses from trees for political reasons were terrorists, right? In the spirit of fairness, I will concede that I’m just one man, and I can’t claim to have been everywhere at once on this day, so if defenders of MAGA want to claim “not everyone was like that” yeah, that could be true. Maybe I got a skewed sample. But being on the ground and witnessing the whole day, I did see a theme about a terrorist guerrilla campaign develop that was a real thing, however widespread.

The relationship between spelling and speech can be ridiculously idiosyncratic, as seen in this example from English: 1 ought [ɔ:] 2 through [ʉ:] 3 cough [ɔf] 4 thorough [ə] 5 Lough [ɔx] 6 hiccough [ʌp] 7 though [əɷ] 8 drought [aɷ] 9 rough

Wounded pride," Temul said. "It is one thing to suffer defeat on a field of battle, it is another to be crushed when your foe has no need even to draw a sword." "Humiliated in Raraku," Gall said, nodding. "The growing cancer in their souls. This cannot be carved out. The Malazans must be made to know pain." "That is ridiculous," Keneb said. "Was not the Chain of Dogs glory enough for the bastards?" "The first casualty among the defeated is recalling their own list of crimes, Fist.

it was when AOC joined forces with Sunrise that the group’s Green New Deal really gained momentum. Along with her cosponsor in the Senate, Edward J. Markey, a Democrat from Massachusetts, AOC introduced the ridiculous resolution to Congress. If you’re not familiar with the details of the proposal, allow me to give you some of the high points. First off, it would cost US taxpayers almost $100 trillion dollars—$93 trillion to be precise, since I’ve stumped a lot on it. That’s trillion with a t. To put that number into perspective, the US government has annual revenues of about $6 trillion. So AOC and her socialist pals want to spend what would be the equivalent of about fifteen years of the US government’s revenue to stop cows from farting, eliminate air travel, build an underground tunnel from California to Hawaii, and fund people who don’t want to work.

Lying to oneself is one of the most idiotic habits. 'Just one more won't hurt.' 'Maybe this time will be different.' How gullible do you have to be 6o believe a lie that you tell yourself? Yet people do it. They do it a lot. It keeps them victims of their own ridiculous games.

Confused server. Once when I went to McDonald's, I saw on the menu that you could have an order of 6, 9 or 12 Chicken McNuggets. I asked for a half dozen nuggets. "We don't have half dozen nuggets," said the teenager at the counter. "You don't?" I replied. "We only have six, nine, or twelve," was the reply. "So I can't order a half dozen nuggets, but I can order six?" "That's right." So I shook my head and ordered six McNuggets.

Your pity, disappointment and ridicule—I can handle. My family’s—that’s so much worse.

Communications Shutdowns There are certain phrases that can instantly shut down communication between two people. Here is a list of several of them. 1. Don’t be ridiculous. 2. It’ll cost too much. 3. That’s not my responsibility. 4. We don’t have time. 5. We’ve never done that before. 6. That’s not the way we do things around here. 7. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. 8. We’re not ready for that. 9. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. 10. It will never sell. 11.  We will become the laughingstock of the entire company. 12.  We tried that before and it didn’t work. 13. It simply can’t be done. 14. It’s too radical a change. 15.  That will make our current equipment obsolete. 16. It’s not really our problem. 17. Let’s get back to reality. 18.  Let’s form a committee to decide. 19.  I need to go over the numbers again. 20. It’s not in our budget. 21.  We have done all right without it all this time. 22. It won’t work here. 23.  OK … if it doesn’t work, you’re the one who’s going to get the blame. 24.  I don’t personally agree … if you insist. 25. Are you crazy? If you find yourself saying any of these, stop. The other person is likely to feel “unheard.” If someone says these things to you, however, you can probe a little to see if you can break the communication shutdown.

think on the stupidity of war. How ridiculous we must be to wage it when emotions like love run so much deeper in us than hate.

Steve had been good at 180° turns. He was suddenly 6’2”? Cool. Bucky was dead? Fine, he’d join him. He was seventy years in the future? Okay, let him know how to work a tablet. Aliens? Right—punch ‘em. Shield is Hydra? Burn it all down. Bucky wanted Steve gone? Fine.   What Steve was terrible at was 360° turns. He tried to imagine turning small again. Tried to imagine waking up in the 40s. Tried to imagine aliens pulling off masks to show human faces. Tried to imagine Hydra saying, “haha jk we were Shield the whole time psych.”   Bucky hadn’t died. That was his first 360°. He’d dealt with that pretty poorly.   Bucky changed his mind on wanting him gone. Steve’s second 360°. And it felt almost as ridiculous as Hydra throwing up finger guns and saying, “Whoops.

The word seemed ridiculous. Lisa couldn't be a 'girlfriend'. She was much, much more than that. Whatever happened, even if they never shared another kiss, she was so much more.