Ruby Alternative Quotes

I always started studying with the best intentions, telling myself that today just might be the day it all fell into place, and everything would be different. But more often than not, though, after a couple of pages of practice problems, I'd find myself spiraling into an all-out depression. When it was really bad, I'd put my head down on my book and contemplate alternate options for my future. "whoa," I heard a voice say. It was muffled slightly by my hair, and my arm, which I locked around my head in an effort to keep my brain from seeping out.

He would often spend a whole day settling and resettling in their cases the various stones that he had collected, such as the olive-green chrysoberyl that turns red by lamplight, the cymophane with its wirelike line of silver, the pistachio-coloured peridot, rose-pink and wine-yellow topazes, carbuncles of fiery scarlet with tremulous, four-rayed stars, flame-red cinnamon-stones, orange and violet spinels, and amethysts with their alternate layers of ruby and sapphire. He loved the red gold of the sunstone, and the moonstone’s pearly whiteness, and the broken rainbow of the milky opal.

Lillian’s lashes lowered as she let him ease her closer, his hand sliding over the length of her spine. Her breasts and waist felt swollen within the insulating grip of her corset, and she suddenly longed to be rid of it. Taking as deep a breath as the stays would allow, she became aware of a sweetly spicy scent in the air. “What is that?” she murmured, drawing in the fragrance. “Cinnamon and wine…” Turning in the circle of his arms, she looked around the spacious bedroom, past the poster bed to the small table that had been set near the window. There was a covered silver dish on the table, from which a few traces of sweet-scented steam were still visible. Perplexed, she twisted back to look at Marcus. “Go and find out,” he said. Curiously Lillian went to investigate. Taking hold of the cover’s handle, which had been wrapped with a linen napkin, she lifted the lid, letting a soft burst of intoxicating fragrance into the air. Momentarily puzzled, Lillian stared at the dish, and then burst out laughing. The white porcelain dish was filled with five perfect pears, all standing on end, their skin gleaming and ruby-red from having been poached in wine. They sat in a pool of clear amber sauce that was redolent of cinnamon and honey. “Since I couldn’t obtain a pear from a bottle for you,” came Marcus’s voice from behind her, “this was the next best alternative.” Lillian picked up a spoon and dug into one of the melting-soft pears, lifting it to her lips with relish. The bite of warm, wine-soaked fruit seemed to dissolve in her mouth, the spiced honey sauce causing a tingle in the back of her throat. “Mmmm…” She closed her eyes in ecstasy. Looking amused, Marcus turned her to face him. His gaze fell to the corner of her lips, where a stray drop of honey sauce glittered. Ducking his head, he kissed and licked away the sticky drop, the caress of his mouth causing a new pleasurable ache deep inside her. “Delicious,” he whispered, his lips settling more firmly, until she felt as if her blood were flowing in streams of white-hot sparks. She dared to share the taste of wine and cinnamon with him, tentatively exploring his mouth with her tongue, and his response was so encouraging that she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself closer. He was delicious, the taste of his mouth clean and sweet, the feel of his lean, solid body immeasurably exciting. Her lungs expanded with shaky-hot breaths, restrained by the clench of her corset stays, and she broke the kiss with a gasp. “I can’t breathe.” Wordlessly Marcus turned her around and unfastened the gown. Reaching her corset, he untied the laces and loosened them with a series of expert tugs, until the stays expanded and Lillian gulped in relief. “Why did you lace so tightly?” she heard him ask. “Because the dress wouldn’t fasten otherwise. And because, according to my mother, Englishmen prefer their women to be narrow-waisted.” Marcus snorted as he eased her back to face him. “Englishmen prefer women to have larger waists in lieu of fainting from lack of oxygen. We’re rather practical that way.” Noticing that the sleeve of her unfastened gown had slipped over her white shoulder, he lowered his mouth to the smooth curve.

Your job is one of synthesis; you must combine an overall understanding of your application’s requirements with knowledge of the costs and benefits of design alternatives and then devise an arrangement of code that is cost effective in the present and will continue to be so in the future.

He took the necklace of alternating rubies and emeralds, leading to a central diamond pendant,

After checking the manual again, she located the mat in the trunk and peeled it back, then unscrewed the big winged nut holding down a sort of cardboard cover. Beneath it—shazaam!—lay the spare tire and pieces of what the instructions assured her was the jack. If only she had the faintest notion how to assemble it. She removed the metal components and shivered again. She’d packed a set of long johns, but she wasn’t eager to spend time removing boots or stripping off jeans. Activity would warm her. Keep moving. Next the tire, which was determined not to leave its cocoon. She was strong for her size from years of hauling around big pots, but never had she cursed her small stature more. The thing weighed a ton, and it was wedged in there so tightly she couldn’t get it to budge. She’d go to the next step, then come back to the stupid spare. Nothing went better after that. Jacking up the car was a nightmare, and trying to loosen what the book called lug nuts simply wasn’t happening. Cold and scared and frustrated, Scarlett forced herself to think hard about the alternative: walking back to Sweetgrass Springs. But the town had been deserted except for Ruby’s,

Taking as deep a breath as the stays would allow, she became aware of a sweetly spicy scent in the air. "What is that?" she murmured, drawing in the fragrance. "Cinnamon and wine..." Turning in the circle of his arms, she looked around the spacious bedroom, past the poster bed to the small table that had been set near the window. There was a covered silver dish on the table, from which a few traces of sweet-scented steam were still visible. Perplexed, she twisted back to look at Marcus. "Go and find out," he said. Curiously Lillian went to investigate. Taking hold of the cover's handle, which had been wrapped with a linen napkin, she lifted the lid, letting a soft burst of intoxicating fragrance into the air. Momentarily puzzled, Lillian stared at the dish, and then burst out laughing. The white porcelain dish was filled with five perfect pears, all standing on end, their skin gleaming and ruby-red from having been poached in wine. They sat in a pool of clear amber sauce that was redolent of cinnamon and honey. "Since I couldn't obtain a pear from a bottle for you," came Marcus's voice from behind her, "this was the next best alternative." Lillian picked up a spoon and dug into one of the melting-soft pears, lifting it to her lips with relish. The bite of warm, wine-soaked fruit seemed to dissolve in her mouth, the spiced honey sauce causing a tingle in the back of her throat.

At present, the FDA does not require genetically modified foods to be labeled; however, it has developed a guiding document for companies that wish to declare genetically enhanced ingredients in their food. A number of alternative proposals are being considered concerning the labeling of foods obtained through biotechnology.Δ