Ruby Wedding Quotes

His wedding gift, clasped round my throat. A choker of rubies, two inches wide, like an extraordinarily precious slit throat.

You’re a terrible liar, boy,” Rand called after us. “Is he right?” I asked quietly, once we’d put some distance between the guest cabin and us. “That I’m a terrible liar? No. I’m a fantastic liar.

Up then, fair phoenix bride, frustrate the sun; Thyself from thine affection Takest warmth enough, and from thine eye All lesser birds will take their jollity. Up, up, fair bride, and call Thy stars from out their several boxes, take Thy rubies, pearls, and diamonds forth, and make Thyself a constellation of them all; And by their blazing signify That a great princess falls, but doth not die. Be thou a new star, that to us portends Ends of much wonder; and be thou those ends.

Ruby used to say that we'd earned our memories, but we didn't owe them anything beyond their keeping. I guess she'd know better than most. We were moving forward, and the past was best left to its darkness. Its ashes.

She took his hand, and he tried not to shudder in relief, tried not to fall to his knees as she slid the ruby ring onto his finger. It fit him perfectly, the ring no doubt forged for the king lying in this barrow. Silently, Rowan grasped her own hand and eased on the emerald ring. “To whatever end,” he whispered. Silver lined her eyes. “To whatever end.” A reminder—and a vow, more sacred than the wedding oaths they’d sworn on that ship. To walk this path together, back from the darkness of the iron coffin. To face what waited in Terrasen, ancient promises to the gods be damned.

I know there is no finer thing than your dew on my tongue.” Dew? We’d have to talk about love words in the future.

She took off her engagement and wedding rings and walked over to me. “I don’t want anything to happen to these while I’m there.” I clasped both of her hands in mine. “It’s not the rings I’m worried about.” A faint smile crossed her lips, and even though the face was different, there was a feel to that smile that was uniquely Sydney. “I’ll be fine . . . but I want you to hold on to these for me until I get back.” “Deal,” I said in a low voice that only she could hear, “but I get to put them back on you.” “Okay,” she said. “On my knees,” I added. “Okay.” “And we both have to be nake—” “Adrian,” she said warningly. “We’ll discuss the terms later,” I said with a wink.

Ruby said there were many songs that you could not say anybody in particular had made by himself. A song went around from fiddler to fiddler and each one added something and took something away so that in time the song became a different thing from what it had been, barely recognizable in either tune or lyric. But you could not say the song had been improved, for as was true of all human effort, there was never advancement. Everything added meant something lost, and about as often as not the thing lost was preferable to the thing gained, so that over time we'd be lucky if we just broke even. Any thought otherwise was empty pride.

They had paused before the table on which the bride’s jewel were displayed, and Lily’s heart gave an envious throb as she caught the refraction of light from their surfaces – the milky gleam of perfectly matched pearls, the flash of rubies relieved against contrasting velvet, the intense blue rays of sapphires kindled into light by surrounding diamonds: all these precious tints enhanced and deepened by the varied art of their setting. The glow of the stones warmed Lily’s veins like wine. More completely than any other expression of wealth they symbolized the life she longed to lead, the life of fastidious aloofness and refinement in which every detail should have the finish of a jewel, and the whole form a harmonious setting to her own jewel-like rareness.

Cinder." Kai pulled one leg onto the bank, turning his body so they were facing each other. He took her hands between his and her heart began to drum unexpectedly. Not because of his touch, and not even because of his low, serious tone, but because it occurred to Cinder all at once that Kai was nervous. Kai was never nervous. "I asked you once," he said, running his thumbs over her knuckles, "if you thought you would ever be willing to wear a crown again. Not as the queen of Luna, but ... as my empress. And you said that you would consider it, someday." She swallowed a breath of cool night air. "And ... this is that day?" His lips twitched, but didn't quite become a smile. "I love you. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I want to marry you, and, yes, I want you to be my empress." Cinder gaped at him for a long moment before she whispered, "That's a lot of wanting." "You have no idea." She lowered her lashes. "I might have some idea." Kai released one of her hands and she looked up again to see him reaching into his pocket - the same that had held Wolf's and Scarlet's wedding rings before. His fist was closed when he pulled it out and Kai held it toward her, released a slow breath, and opened his fingers to reveal a stunning ring with a large ruby ringed in diamonds. It didn't take long for her retina scanner to measure the ring, and within seconds it was filling her in on far more information than she needed - inane worlds like carats and clarity scrolled past her vision. But it was the ring's history that snagged her attention. It had been his mother's engagement ring once, and his grandmother's before that. Kai took her hand and slipped the ring onto her finger. Metal clinked against metal, and the priceless gem looked as ridiculous against her cyborg plating as the simple gold band had looked on Wolf's enormous, deformed, slightly hairy hand. Cinder pressed her lips together and swallowed, hard, before daring to meet Kai's gaze again. "Cinder," he said, "will you marry me?" Absurd, she thought. The emperor of the Eastern Commonwealth was proposing to her. It was uncanny. It was hysterical. But it was Kai, and somehow, that also made it exactly right. "Yes," she whispered. "I will marry you." Those simple words hung between them for a breath, and then she grinned and kissed him, amazed that her declaration didn't bring the surge of anxiety she would have expected years ago. He drew her into his arms, laughing between kisses, and she suddenly started to laugh too. She felt strangely delirious. They had stood against all adversity to be together, and now they would forge their own path to love. She would be Kai's wife. She would be the Commonwealth's empress. And she had every intention of being blissfully happy for ever, ever after.

His wedding gift, clasped round my throat. A choker of rubies, two inches wide, like an extraordinarily precious slit throat. After the terror, in the early days of the Directory, the aristos who’d escaped the guillotine had an ironic fad of tying a red ribbon round their necks at just the point where the blade would have sliced it through, a red ribbon like the memory of a wound. And his grandmother, taken with the notion, had her ribbon made up in rubies; such a gesture of luxurious defiance! That night at the opera comes back to me even now… the white dress; the frail child within it; and the flashing crimson jewels round her throat, bright as arterial blood. I saw him watching me in the gilded mirrors with the assessing eye of a connoisseur inspecting horseflesh, or even of a housewife in the market, inspecting cuts on the slab. I’d never seen, or else had never acknowledged, that regard of his before, the sheer carnal avarice of it; and it was strangely magnified by the monocle lodged in his left eye. When I saw him look at me with lust, I dropped my eyes but, in glancing away from him, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. And I saw myself, suddenly, as he saw me, my pale face, the way the muscles in my neck stuck out like thin wire. I saw how much that cruel necklace became me. And, for the first time in my innocent and confined life, I sensed in myself a potentiality for corruption that took my breath away.

The golden deer is a mythical creature that does not exist on an earthly plane like a perfect couple or a perfect marriage.

And we’d all live happily ever after... "Okay, that was a nice daydream, but maybe it’s time to come back to reality.

She continued it to Hugh, 'Darling, do you know what mother and you are going to find beyond the blue horizon rim?' 'What?' flatly. 'We're going to find elephants with golden howdahs from which peep young maharanees with necklaces of rubies, and a dawn sea colored like the breast of a dove, and a white an green house filled with books and silver tea-sets.' 'And cookies?' 'Cookies? Oh, most decidedly cookies. We've had enough of bread and porridge. We'd get sick on too many cookies, but ever so much sicker on no cookies at all.

She heard him close the door. “I was going to impress you with my romantic eloquence, of course. I’d thought to wax philosophical about the beauty of your brow.” Lucy blinked. “My brow?” “Mmm. Have I told you that your brow intimidates me?” She felt his warmth at her back as he moved behind her, but he didn’t touch her. “It’s so smooth and white and broad, and ends with your straight, knowing eyebrows, like a statue of Athena pronouncing judgment. If the warrior goddess had a brow like yours, it is no wonder the ancients worshiped and feared her.” “Blather,” she murmured. “Blather, indeed. Blather is all I am, after all.” She frowned and turned to contradict him, but he moved with her so that she couldn’t quite catch sight of his face. “I am the duke of nonsense,” he whispered in her ear. “The king of farce, the emperor of emptiness.” Did he really see himself so? “But—” “Blathering is what I do best,” he said, still unseen. “I’d like to blather about your golden eyes and ruby lips.” “Simon—” “The perfect curve of your cheek,” he murmured close. She gasped as his breath stirred the hair at her neck. He was distracting her with lovemaking. And it was working. “What a lot of talk.” “I do talk too much. It’s a weakness you’ll have to bear in your husband.” His voice was next to her ear. “But I’d have to spend quite a bit of time outlining the shape of your mouth, its softness and the warmth within. -Simon to Lucy on their wedding night.

We hadn’t officially had a honeymoon after our wedding, but we’d often talked about all the potential places we’d like to go, if only we had the freedom. Italy was still high on my list, as was Greece. But honestly, I would’ve gladly settled for Missouri, if only Adrian could be with me, free from pursuit.

The heartwood," Rob murmured, looking at me. "You wanted to marry me in the heart of Major Oak." I beamed at him grateful that he understood. "And Scar," he whispered. I leaned in close. "Are you wearing knives to our wedding?" Nodding, I laughed, telling him, "I was going to get you here one way or another, Hood." He laughed, a bright, merry sound. Standing in the heart of the tree, he reached again for my hand, fingers sliding over mine. Touching his hand, a rope of lightening lashed round my fingers, like it seared us together. Now, and for always. His fingers moved on mine, rubbing over my hand before capturing it tight and turning me to the priest. The priest looked over his shoulder, watching as the sun began to dip. He led us in prayer, he asked me to speak the same words I'd spoken not long past to Gisbourne, but that whole thing felt like a bad dream, like I were waking and it were fading and gone for good. "Lady Scarlet." he asked me with a smile, "known to some as Lady Marian of Huntingdon, will thou have this lord to thy wedded husband, will thou love him and honour him, keep him and obey him, in health and in sickness, as a wife should a husband, forsaking all others on account of him, so long as ye both shall live?" I looked at Robin, tears burning in my eyes. "I will," I promised. "I will, always." Rob's face were beaming back at me, his ocean eyes shimmering bright. The priest smiled. "Robin of Locksley, will thou have this lady to thy wedded wife, will thou love her and honor her, keep her and guard her, in health and in sickness, as a husband should a wife, forsaking all others on account of her, so long as ye both shall live?" the priest asked. "Yes," Rob said. "I will." "You have the rings?" the priest asked Rob. "I do," I told the priest, taking two rings from where Bess had tied them to my dress. I'd sent Godfrey out to buy them at market without Rob knowing. "I knew you weren't planning on this," I told him. Rob just grinned like a fool at me, taking the ring I handed him to put on my finger. Laughs bubbled up inside of me, and I felt like I were smiling so wide something were stuck in my cheeks and holding me open. More shy and proud than I thought I'd be, I said. "I take you as me wedded husband, Robin. And thereto I plight my troth." I pushed the ring onto his finger. He took my half hand in one of his, but the other- holding the ring- went into his pocket. "I may not have known I would marry you today Scar," he said. "But I did know I would marry you." He showed me a ring, a large ruby set in delicate gold. "This," he said to me, "was my mother's. It's the last thing I have of hers, and when I met you and loved you and realized your name was the exact colour of the stone- " He swallowed, and cleared his throat, looking at me with the blue eyes that shot right through me. "This was meant to be Scarlet. I was always meant to love you. To marry you." The priest coughed. "Say the words, my son, and you will marry her." Rob grinned and I laughed, and Rob stepped closer, cradling my hand. "I take you as my wedded wife, Scarlet. And thereto I plight my troth." He slipped the ring on my finger and it fit. "Receive the Holy Spirit," the priest said, and kissed Robin on the cheek. Rob's happy grin turned a touch wolflike as he turned back to me, hauling me against him and angling his mouth over mine. I wrapped my arms around him and my head spun- I couldn't tell if we were spinning, if I were dizzy, if my feet were on the ground anymore at all, but all I knew, all I cared for, were him, his mouth against mine, and letting the moment we became man and wife spin into eternity.

--I despise that bird, Ada said. He tried to flog me. Ruby said, I'd not keep a flogging rooster. --Then how might we run it off? Ada said. Ruby looked at her with a great deal of puzzlement. She rose and stepped off the porch and in one swift motion snatched up the rooster, tucked his body under her left arm, and with her right hand pulled off his head. He struggled under her arm for a minute and then fell still. Ruby threw the head off into a barberry bush by the fence. --He'll be stringy, so we'd best stew him awhile, Ruby said.

Instead, he gets to his feet. "Um…are you going somewhere?" I ask as he crosses the cave. "I thought we were talking." He picks up a length of fur from the cave's supplies, studies it, and then approaches me and settles it over my head, hiding my gaze and completely covering my face. I sputter, laughing. "What are you doing?" "I am going to wed-hing you when we get back to the tribe." I jerk the fur off my head, gaping at him. "You what?" S'bren gestures at the fur. "You cover your head. We will do the ceremony when we get back to your people.

The continuing struggle to align word and action, our heartfelt desires with a workable plan—didn’t self-esteem finally depend on just this? It was that belief which had led me into organizing, and it was that belief which would lead me to conclude, perhaps for the final time, that notions of purity—of race or of culture—could no more serve as the basis for the typical black American’s self-esteem than it could for mine. Our sense of wholeness would have to arise from something more fine than the bloodlines we’d inherited. It would have to find root in Mrs. Crenshaw’s story and Mr. Marshall’s story, in Ruby’s story and Rafiq’s; in all the messy, contradictory details of our experience.

He slides my ruby ring off his finger. 'I, Cardan, son of Eldred, High King of Elfhame, take you, Jude Duarte, mortal ward of Madoc, to be my bride and my queen. Let us be wed until we wish for it to be otherwise and the crown has passed from our hands.' As he speaks, I begin to tremble with something between hope and fear. The words he's saying are so momentous that they're surreal, especially here, in Eldred's own rooms. Time seems to stretch out. Above us, the branches begin to bud, as though the land itself heard the words he spoke. Catching my hand, he slides the ring on. The exchange of rings is not a faerie ritual, and I am surprised by it. 'Your turn,' he says in to the silence. He gives me a grin. 'I'm trusting you to keep your word and release me from my bond of obedience after this.' I smile back, which maybe makes up for the way that I froze after he finished speaking. I still can't quite believe this is happening. My hand tightens on his as I speak. 'I, Jude Duarte, take Cardan, High King of Elfhame, to be my husband. Let us be wed until we don't want to be and the crown has passed from our hands.' He kisses the scar of my palm. I still have his brother's blood under my fingernails. I don't have a ring for him. Above us, the buds are blooming. The whole room smells of flowers. Drawing back, I speak again, pushing away all thoughts of Balekin, of the future in which I am going to have to tell him what I've done. 'Cardan, son of Eldred, High King of Elfhame, I forsake any command over you. You are free of your vow of obedience, for now and for always.' He lets out a breath and stands a bit unsteadily. I can't quite wrap my head around the idea that I am... I can't even think the words. Too much has happened tonight.

Adrian and Sydney, I know each of you have your own ways of figuring out where I am. If that’s the course of action to choose to take, nothing I do can stop you. But, I’m begging you, please don’t. Please let me stay away. Let the guardians think I’ve gone AWOL. Let me wander the world, helping those I can. I know you think I should stay with Declan. Believe me, I wish I could. I wish more than anything that I could stay and raise Olive’s son – my son – and give him all the things he needs. But I can’t shake the feeling that we’d never be safe. Someday, someone might start asking about Olive and her son. Someone might connect the baby I’m raising to him, and then her fears would be realized. News of his conception would change our world. It would excite some people and scare others. Most of all, it’d make Olive’s predictions come true: people wanting to study him like a lab rat. And that’s why I’m proposing that no one finds out he’s my son or Olive’s. From now on, let him be yours. No one would question you two raising a dhampir. After all, your own children will be dhampirs, and from what I’ve seen, you two are smart enough to find a way to convince others he’s your biological child. I’ve also seen the way you two love each other, the way you support each other. Even with as challenging as your relationship has been, you’ve held true to yourselves and each other. That’s what Declan needs. That’s the kind of home Olive wanted for him, the kind I want for him. I know it won’t be easy, and walking away from this is one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. If a day comes when I can feel convinced that it’s safe, beyond a doubt, for me to be in his life, then I will. You can use one of those magical methods of yours to find me, and I swear I’ll be there at his side in an instant. But until then, so long as the shadow of others’ fear and scrutiny hangs over him, I beg you to take him and give him the beautiful life I know you can give him. Best, Neil

discreetly cocked his head in the direction of the crush of dancing figures. "I wondered if you would care to engage in a small wager to add piquancy to this dull evening?" "What kind of wager?" "A matter of a successful seduction, Cousin." Simon grimaced at his cousin's expectant grin. No doubt the cad waited for a lecture. But today he would be surprised. An hour before, Simon had adjusted his cravat in the curved looking-glass in the foyer of his parents' town house and promised himself that he would do everything in his power to destroy the image of fairness and propriety that had given those who knew him cause to call him Saint Simon. And a good start to accomplish this aim would be to wager with his cousin. For Grimthorpe was a worse gossip than any of the bored dowagers seated about the room. He lifted his shoulders as if mildly intrigued with the idea. "My ring if you succeed." Grimthorpe's eyes narrowed in shock; then he eyed the large ruby and silver ring on Simon's left little

The stars seemed to be dancing up there, to be swirling around in grand and complicated patterns like women at a wedding decked out in their finery, women shining white and green and red with diamonds, emeralds and rubies, brilliant women dancing in the sky, dripping with fiery jewels. And the dance of the stars was mirrored in the city streets; people came out with tambourines and drums and celebrated, as if it were somebody’s birthday.

May I assume the two of you have come to some type of an understanding?” “I think it’s safe to assume Lucetta and I aren’t going to wed.” Ruby reached out and patted his arm. “I wouldn’t give up all hope just yet, Bram. I, probably more than anyone—since I’ve attended so many of her performances with you—know how long you’ve held Lucetta in high esteem. Quite frankly, now that I’ve met the real Lucetta, I do believe she’s entirely more fascinating than everyone, myself included, assumed her to be.” Frowning, Bram tilted his head. “Why do you say that?” “Because I think she’s far more accomplished then she lets on, seems to be incredibly intelligent, and . . . I didn’t get the impression that she’s overly concerned with her appearance, which, coming from a lady as beautiful as Lucetta, is well and truly telling.” She smiled. “And, she’s definitely not fragile, nor does she seem to be the weepy type. I always expected her to be weepy for one reason or another.” Bram nodded. “I thought she would be weepy as well, but that certainly doesn’t seem to be the case. Truth be told, now that I consider the matter, she seems very similar to you, except for the whole shrew business. I don’t get the impression Lucetta is much of a shrew.” “You

But she wasn’t frightened any longer. ‘Here.’ He handed her the box as his other hand reached up and stroked the smooth silk of her cheek. ‘Wedding present, Mrs Price.’ ‘Oh, Zachariah. I haven’t got you anything.’ ‘I didn’t buy it, lass. It was me mam’s.’ He watched her as she opened the small hinged lid to reveal an exquisitely dainty ring worked in fine lacy gold with a half band of tiny diamonds and rubies, and at her delighted gasp he reached out and plucked it from its nest, sliding it onto the third finger of her left hand next to the shining gold wedding band. ‘This is your engagement ring, lass, but I wanted you to have it tonight. Me mam would’ve liked that, bein’ as how she felt about marriage an’ all.’ She turned to him, flinging her arms round his neck as she pressed her lips to his for a moment, and then he held her close as he said,

She looks sort of like a nurse, Ruby thought. Or a nun, but a movie star nun, not a real one, and an old-fashioned rescuing-the-orphans sort of movie star nun, not the comedy sort. It was her face. It was open and fresh and happy and she had shiny dark hair pulled back in a ponytail.

She considers a tray of flaky 'jesuites,' their centers redolent of frangipani cream, decorated with violet buds preserved in clouds of black crystal sugar. Or 'dulce de leche' tarts- caramelized swirls on a 'pate sucree' crust, glowing with chocolate, tiny muted peaks, ruffles of white pastry like Edwardian collars. But nothing seems special enough and nothing seems right. Nothing seems like Stanley. Avis brings out the meticulous botanical illustrations she did in school, pins them all around the kitchen like a room from Audubon's house. She thinks of slim layers of chocolate interspersed with a vanilla caramel. On top she might paint a frosted forest with hints of white chocolate, dashes of rosemary subtle as deja vu. A glissando of light spilling in butter-drops from one sweet lime leaf to the next. On a drawing pad she uses for designing wedding cakes, she begins sketching ruby-throated hummingbirds in flecks of raspberry fondant, a sub-equatorial sun depicted in neoclassical butter cream. At the center of the cake top, she draws figures regal and languid as Gauguin's island dwellers, meant to be Stanley, Nieves, and child. Their skin would be cocoa and coffee and motes of cherry melded with a few drops of cream. Then an icing border of tiny mermaids, nixies, selkies, and seahorses below, Pegasus, Icarus, and phoenix above.

I had hobo sex and it was fucking great.

She doesn’t realize how easy it is to do these things, to ruin everything. I remember myself at her age, an unhappy girl working a dead-end job in a dead-end town. I wanted to leave, to change, but it seemed so impossible. That I could actually pick up and go, quit my job, give notice to my landlord, break up with my boyfriend, tell my parents, my friends. It seemed overwhelming. And then one day, I did it and realized it’s the easiest thing in the world. To pick up and go. Easier than staying. And then I hated myself for staying as long as I did, for treading water so long, when really what I needed was perched at the end of my legs the whole time. Those ruby slippers, heels clicked together, a simple incantation.

The summer we were fifteen, Dan discovered an old suitcase of his father’s liqueur miniatures. The suitcase had been on the back porch for years and it was like coming on a hidden treasure chest. They looked like jewels, exquisite shapes of glass glowing ruby, Amber, creme-de-menthe emerald. We’d sneak back there on June evenings with the light out in the kitchen and Dan’s parents in the front of the apartment watching TV. I had a penlight and we’d study the labels before sampling. It brought the world into our lives as no geography book ever could. From necks narrower than a straw drops of exotic places burned on our tongues: Cognac, Chartreuse, Curaçao.

For one, the lomo saltado was so delicious I thought I might forget my own name. It was beef tenderloin stir-fried so that the sugars in the marinade caramelized on the outside, making it crispy and chewy and as tender as the name in the middle, on a big blue platter piled high with roasted tomatoes, various salsas and chiles, and crispy fries. The idea was to wrap pieces of beef and the toppings in the scallion pancakes that came along with it. What resulted were flavor bombs, savory and spicy and fatty and crispy, all accentuated by the sweet, tangy pop of tomato. Flakes of scallion pancakes drifted from my lips down to my plate as my teeth crunched through each bite. "I can't even handle how good this is," I said, then swallowed because I couldn't wait to say it. The other two dishes we'd ordered were pretty great, too----a whole branzino marinated and charred so that we picked it clean off its spindly bones and ate it with greens and roasted peppers; a half chicken roasted with aji amarillo chile paste and served over shiitake mushrooms and a lime crema---but the lomo saltado was the true star of the table. I could already picture how it was going to look on my page. The golden-brown fries glistening with oil. The beef shaded from light pink in the center to deep brown on the edges. The ruby red tomatoes nestled among them. And the scallion pancakes serving as a lacy backdrop.

I don’t know the Fae customs,” she said. The thicker ring held an elegantly cut ruby within the band itself, while the smaller one bore a sparkling rectangular emerald mounted atop, the stone as large as her fingernail. “But when humans wed, rings are exchanged.

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We've all lost something, and I've seen what loss can do to people. But if we gave up every time we lost, then we'd never be able to move forward. We'd never have a chance to see what beautiful things the future might have waiting for us. We'd never have the strength to change; whether it's ourselves, or the world around us. And we'd never be there for other people who might one day be lost without us.

thank you for the gifts. They were most welcomed and unexpected.” He looked at her sheepishly. “But there is one missing.” “There is?” Adara frowned as he pulled up the hem of his robe to reach his purse. “There’s one last thing that you should have.” He took her left hand into his and slid a large ruby ring onto her third finger. Adara’s throat tightened at the sight of it there. A wedding ring. A real one. Without thinking, she walked into his arms and kissed his lips. He seized her fiercely and crushed her to his chest as he gave her a hot, exhilarating kiss. “Should we leave your tent intact for a bit longer, since you seem to have found your missing manhood?” Ioan asked as he passed by them. Christian pulled back to glare at his friend. “My patience runs thin, Lladdwr.” “As long as the steel to your sword is as thin, I have nothing to fear, eh?

I tried to look at Ruby with some kind of tenderness but I think it came out as condescension and I couldn’t feel my face, I couldn’t feel my face wrapped around my head, and I couldn’t feel the muscles in it and make them move in the right way. I was trapped in my body and Ruby was trapped in her body and we’d always been trying to bridge the difference between our bodies, atone for the fact that we were supposed to be family but we weren’t, not really, but we had to try anyway, try forever over and over again to find the way that we were related.