Risk Of Rain 2 Quotes

The possibility of death was like the weather—you could make attempts to predict it, but you would likely be wrong, and no one would change their most important plans due to threat of rain.

Safe drive back to Boston, Connelly. I've been told before that the roads get really wet when it's raining.

Gregori was as still as a statue, his face a blank mask, his silver eyes as empty as death, yet Shea gave him a wide berth. There was something dangerous in his utter stillness. Shea felt she had no way to sorting out the complexity of the Carpathian male’s nature. Gregori was watching Raven through narrowed, restless eyes, eyes that saw far too much. Suddenly he cursed, low and vicious, startling from someone of his stature and power. “She should not put herself at risk. She is with child.” His eyes met Jacques’, silver lightning and black ice. Total understanding between the two men. Shea merged her mind with Jacues’ quickly to try to understand the hidden currents. Raven’s pregnancy, if she was pregnant, changed everything as far as the men were concerned. Shea could see no evidence of a child—Raven appeared as slim as ever—but she couldn’t believe the healer would be wrong. He seemed so infallible, so completely invincible. The child was everything, all-important to the men. It surprised, even shocked her, the way they regarded the pregnancy. It was a miracle to both of them. The baby was more important than their lives. Shea was confused. Despite Jacques’ fractured memories, his protective streak was extremely strong. “He’s aware of his surroundings, but he can’t move. Even his mind is locked and still. He is paralyzed somehow.” Raven’s voice startled Shea, brought her back to the stormy weather and their rescue mission. Raven was clearly speaking of Byron. “He can’t move or call out, not ever mentally. It is dark and damp, and he knows he will suffer greatly before they are done with him.” Raven swayed, her hands protectively covering her stomach. The healer moved, a blur of speed, catching her arm and wrenching her out into the driving rain. Gregori snagged Mikhail’s shirt, too, and yanked him into the fury of the storm. “Break off now, Raven,” Gregori commanded. He shook her, shook Mikhail. “Let go of him now!

Several years after Typhoon Yolanda struck the Philippines, international development organizations remained to help in the recovery and rehabilitation process. In my mind, it was difficult to talk about sustainable development when students had to risk their lives just to go to school, when farmers and fishers had to take whatever the middlemen were willing to give because transportation of their produce proved too difficult. A number of municipalities could only be accessed through boats. Whenever it rained, families would have to make a decision whether to risk their lives or lose their income. It was at this point that I realized that if we were to achieve real and inclusive economic growth, then a good infrastructure network was necessary. I would have never thought that in a matter of years I would join the Build, Build, Build team.” - Anna Mae Yu Lamentillo , Night Owl: A Nationbuilder’s Manual 2nd Edition (p. 10, Why do I support Build, Build, Build? )

Rhys cringed. “My mother was low-born,” he told me, “and worked as a seamstress in one of their many mountain war-camps. When females come of age in the camps—when they have their first bleeding—their wings are … clipped. Just an incision in the right place, left to improperly heal, can cripple you forever. And my mother—she was gentle and wild and loved to fly. So she did everything in her power to keep herself from maturing. She starved herself, gathered illegal herbs—anything to halt the natural course of her body. She turned eighteen and hadn’t yet bled, to the mortification of her parents. But her bleeding finally arrived, and all it took was for her to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time, before a male scented it on her and told the camp’s lord. She tried to flee—took right to the skies. But she was young, and the warriors were faster, and they dragged her back. They were about to tie her to the posts in the center of camp when my father winnowed in for a meeting with the camp’s lord about readying for the War. He saw my mother thrashing and fighting like a wildcat, and …” He swallowed. “The mating bond between them clicked into place. One look at her, and he knew what she was. He misted the guards holding her.” My brows narrowed. “Misted?” Cassian let out a wicked chuckle as Rhys floated a lemon wedge that had been garnishing his chicken into the air above the table. With a flick of his finger, it turned to citrus-scented mist. “Through the blood-rain,” Rhys went on as I shut out the image of what it’d do to a body, what he could do, “my mother looked at him. And the bond fell into place for her. My father took her back to the Night Court that evening and made her his bride. She loved her people, and missed them, but never forgot what they had tried to do to her—what they did to the females among them. She tried for decades to get my father to ban it, but the War was coming, and he wouldn’t risk isolating the Illyrians when he needed them to lead his armies. And to die for him.

The question of how to get to Gatwick is what you might call a ‘wide context’ problem. It allows for vagueness and multiple right answers, and it doesn’t demand absolute adherence to any precise rules. There is no formula for the solution, it allows scope for all kinds of possible ‘rightish’ answers and all kinds of information can be taken into account when coming up with an answer. These are the problems we seem instinctively better equipped to solve, but which computers find hard. If I were to delve into my unconscious and uncover some of the variables at play in my brain when I next have to get to the airport, they might include ‘Is it raining?’, ‘How much luggage do I have?’, ‘How long am I going to be away for?’, ‘What is the average time via the M25 versus taking the A25?’, ‘What is the variance of journey time on the M25 versus the A25?’fn2 and ‘Does my flight leave from the North or South Terminal?’ If you think of getting to Gatwick as a narrow problem in the way your GPS does – a simple question of getting to the airport as quickly as possible – some of these factors may seem irrelevant, but they are all important in real life. The weather affects the traffic. If I am going away for two weeks rather than one night, it affects the cost of parking, and therefore the relative cost of going by train, car or taxi – and the amount of luggage I have. The variance of travel time on the M25 matters to whether it’s worth risking. And heavy luggage makes the train less appealing, especially if you are flying from the North Terminal, which is much further away from the rail station. It’s interesting that we find solving complex problems like this so easy – it suggests that our brains have evolved to answer ‘wide context’ problems because most problems we faced as we developed were of this type. Blurry ‘pretty good’ decision-making has simply proven more useful than precise logic.

I wouldn’t want to try to take this guy out with anything less than a scoped rifle. Which is something that’s hard to confuse with expiration by natural causes. The hell with it, I thought. Risks are one thing. This looks like suicide. If Tatsu wanted him dead that much, I’d recommend a six-man squad and firearms. Much as I would have liked to do something to buy Tatsu’s continued goodwill, this one wasn’t worth it.

Keep your weak hand up by your face, so that you can easily defend your head if a punch is unexpectedly thrown. Use the weak hand to scratch your head or cheek, brush your hair, wipe your brow, adjust your hat, etc., but keep that hand up. Remember that you will most likely be reacting to an assault, and therefore it will take too long to bring a hand up from your waist to your head to defend yourself against a sneak attack. Cover This block/cover comes from boxing, and is identical to the one taught in my book The Cook Method of the Sap for Law Enforcement and Civilians. The weak (left) hand comes up and brings the hand to the ear as though you are talking on the phone. The upraised elbow and bent arm create a large, strong defense against any type of blow, especially a hook punch, which is difficult to defend against by trying to parry or block with the hand. You can also think of this move as raising the left elbow upward. In close, this shielding move can be used as a strike, hitting the attacker with an upward elbow strike. Train this move by having a partner slowly and lightly swing with his right hand at your head. If you get boxing headgear and gloves, you can gradually increase the speed and power of this strike. It is also possible for your partner to swing at your head using the punch mitts. Hammerfist As the left elbow comes up and the left hand is placed just off your ear, your right hand –which has been resting near your left armpit-- snaps outward, striking with the bottom of the fist. Aim for the opponent's jawline. A problem with punching on the street is that it's easy to damage your knuckles when hitting someone's skull or teeth. The bottom-of-the-fist blow, also known as a hammerfist, is a very powerful blow that can be delivered with little risk of injury to the knuckles or wrist. It has proven itself to be devastatingly effective in the full-contact cage matches of the mixed martial arts. Practice doing both motions at the same time; raising the left elbow up to cover the head while striking out with the right hammerfist. Practice slowly at first, then move to the heavy bag. You can also have a partner with the focus mitts swing the right mitt while holding the left mitt up as a target for you to hit with the right hand. Once you have the form down, make the move explosive. Burst outward with the elbow and hammerfist simultaneously. Snap the hammerfist, bringing it quickly back to the start position. Another tip as you practice this move is to drop your head down, so that your chin and the side of your face are not exposed. With your chin down, the striking right hand and arm will help to shield your head from attacks with the opponent's left hand. This is how you defend yourself when an opponent has surprised you with a flurry of punches –not by trying to block a rain of blows, but by striking while protecting your head.

He was willing to risk having my name marking his body for the rest of his life, even if we never reconciled?

The cost outweighs the gain, River. It’s not what you want to hear, but it’s fucking true. It’s not safe.” His lip trembles as it curls up into a grimace. “It wouldn’t be called a risk if it was safe.

If The Black Swan is about epistemic limitations, then, from this definition, we can see that it is not about some objectively defined phenomenon, like rain or a car crash—it is simply something that was not expected by a particular observer. So I was wondering why so many otherwise intelligent people have casually questioned whether certain events, say the Great War, or the September 11, 2001, attack on the World Trade Center, were Black Swans, on the grounds that some predicted them. Of course the September 11 attack was a Black Swan to those victims who died in it; otherwise, they would not have exposed themselves to the risk. But it was certainly not a Black Swan to the terrorists who planned and carried out the attack. I have spent considerable time away from the weight-lifting room repeating that a Black Swan for the turkey is not a Black Swan for the butcher.

Raven stood in the comparative shelter of the porch, her face turned up toward the sky, eyes closed. Tiny beads of perspiration dotted her forehead, and her fingers twisted together compulsively over her stomach. She was not with the others, rather somewhere out of her body and concentrating on attempting to find Byron’s location. Beside her stood her dark, intimidating husband, his mind obviously locked with hers. Mikhail was so like Jacques that Shea could not tear her gaze from him. As she moved onto the porch a step behind Jacques, she could clearly see that Mikhail was furious. He was seething with anger, violence swirling very close to the surface, yet his posture was purely protective. He had placed himself between Raven and the ferocity of the storm. Gregori was as still as a statue, his face a blank mask, his silvery eyes as empty as death, yet Shea gave him a wide berth. There was something dangerous in his utter stillness. Shea felt she had no way to sorting out the complexity of the Carpathian male’s nature. Gregori was watching Raven through narrowed, restless eyes, eyes that saw far too much. Suddenly he cursed, low and vicious, startling from someone of his stature and power. “She should not put herself at risk. She is with child.” His eyes met Jacques’, silver lightning and black ice. Total understanding between the two men. Shea merged her mind with Jacques’ quickly to try to understand the hidden currents. Raven’s pregnancy, if she was pregnant, changed everything as far as the men were concerned. Shea could see no evidence of a child--Raven appeared as slim as ever--but she couldn’t believe the healer would be wrong. He seemed so infallible, so completely invincible. The child was everything, all-important to the men. It surprised, even shocked her, the way they regarded the pregnancy. It was a miracle to both of them. The baby was more important than any of their lives. Shea was confused. Despite Jacques’ fractured memories, his protective streak was extremely strong. “He’s aware of his surroundings, but he can’t move. Even his mind is locked and still. He is paralyzed somehow.” Raven’s voice startled Shea, brought her back to the stormy weather and their rescue mission. Raven was clearly speaking of Byron. “He can’t move or call out, not even mentally. It is dark and damp, and he knows he will suffer greatly before they are done with him.” Raven swayed, her hands protectively covering her stomach. The healer moved, a blur of speed, catching her arm and wrenching her out into the driving rain. Gregori snagged Mikhail’s shirt, too, and yanked him into the fury of the storm. “Break off now, Raven,” Gregori commanded. He shook her, shook Mikhail. “Let go of him now!

Rain makes things wet

Send your grain across the seas, and in time, profits will flow back to you.[*] 2 But divide your investments among many places,[*] for you do not know what risks might lie ahead. 3 When clouds are heavy, the rains come down. Whether a tree falls north or south, it stays where it falls. 4 Farmers who wait for perfect weather never plant. If they watch every cloud, they never harvest. 5 Just as you cannot understand the path of the wind or the mystery of a tiny baby growing in its mother’s womb,[*] so you cannot understand the activity of God, who does all things. 6 Plant your seed in the morning and keep busy all afternoon, for you don’t know if profit will come from one activity or another—or maybe both.