Sae Quotes

I roll my eyes. "So when did I become so special? When they carted me off to the Capitol?" "No, about six months before that. Right after New Year's. We were in the Hob, eating some slop of Greasy Sae's. And Darius was teasing you about trading a rabbit for one of his kisses. And I realized...I minded.

You've got to go through it to get to the end of it.

The time has come The walrus said To talk of many things: Of shoes- and ships- And sealing wax- Of cabbages and kings- And why the sae is boiling hot- And whether pigs have wings.

Some hae meat and canna eat, And some wad eat that want it, But we hae meat and we can eat, And sae the Lord be thankit.

But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love forever. Had we never lou'd sae kindly, Had we never lou'd sae blindly, Never met - or never parted - We had ne'er been broken hearted

Had we never lov'd sae kindly, Had we never lov'd sae blindly, Never met -- or never parted -- we had ne'er been broken-hearted

I know,' says Greasy Sae. 'But you've got to go through it to get to the end of it. Better not be late.

We hand the meat over to Greasy Sae in the kitchen. She likes District 13 well enough, even though she thinks the cooks are somewhat lacking in imagination. But a woman who came up with a palatable wild dog and rhubarb stew is bound to feel as if her hands are tied here.

I’ve said often enough, and the good Lord kens weel enough that boys were meant to be smacked, or he’d not ha’ filled ’em sae full o’ the de’il.

I peered into the deep-sae canyon, hoping to spot a toppled skyscraper. Maybe even the Statue of Liberty.

God kens well enough that boys need to be smacked, or he’d no fill them sae full o’ the de’il.

Some hae meat and canna eat, and some wad eat that want it. But we hae meat, and we can eat, Sae let the Lord be thankit.

Yin day, when Christopher Robin and Winnie-the-Pooh and Wee Grumphie were aw haein a crack thegither, Christopher Robin feenished whit he had in his mooth and said lichtsomely: 'I saw a Huffalamp the-day, Wee Grumphie.' 'Whit wis it daein?' spiered Wee Grumphie. 'Jist lampin alang', said Christopher Robin. 'I dinna think it saw me.' 'I saw yin wance', said Wee Grumphie. 'At least, I think it wis a Huffalamp. But mibbe it wisna.' 'Sae did I', said Pooh, wunnerin whit like a Huffalamp wis. 'Ye dinna see them that aften', said Christopher Robin in an affhaund wey. 'No noo', said Wee Grumphie. 'No at this time o the year', said Pooh.

Jika kamu punya keberanian untuk mengakhiri hidupmu sendiri, jalanilah hidupmu dengan keberanian itu

Dear Sir, I'll gie ye some advice, You'll tak it no uncivil: You shouldna paint at angels, man, But try and paint the Devil. To paint an angel's kittle wark, Wi' Nick there's little danger; You'll easy draw a lang-kent face, But no sae weel a stranger.

Bisi, how could you, now? You know that when you pray, you are heard, if not by God, then by yourself. When you pray, you tell yourself what you truly want, what you really need. And once you know these things, you can do nothing but go after them. Sae you understand?

I. Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led; Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victorie! II. Now's the day, and now's the hour; See the front o' battle lour: See approach proud Edward's pow'r-- Chains and slaverie! III. Wha will be a traitor-knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave! Let him turn and flee! IV. Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa', Let him follow me! V. By oppression's woes and pains! By our sons in servile chains! We will drain our dearest veins, But they shall be free! VI. Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow!-- Let us do or die!

--Thing is though, Spud, whin yir intae skag, that's it. That's aw yuv goat tae worry aboot. Ken Billy, ma brar, likes? He's jist signed up tae go back intae the fuckin army. He's gaun tae fucking Belfast, the stupid cunt. Ah always knew that the fucker wis tapped. Fuckin imperialist lackey. Ken whit the daft cunt turned roond n sais tae us? He goes: Ah cannae fuckin stick civvy street. Bein in the army, it's like being a junky. The only difference is thit ye dinnae git shot at sae often bein a junky. Besides, it's usually you that does the shootin. --That, eh, likesay, seems a bit eh, fucked up like man. Ken? --Naw but, listen the now. You jist think aboot it. In the army they dae everything fir they daft cunts. Feed thum, gie the cunts cheap bevvy in scabby camp clubs tae keep thum fae gaun intae toon n lowerin the fuckin tone, upsetting the locals n that. Whin they git intae civvy street, thuv goat tae dae it aw fir thumsells. --Yeah, but likesay, it's different though, cause . . . Spud tries to cut in, but Renton is in full flight. A bottle in the face is the only thing that could shut him up at this point; even then only for a few seconds. --Uh, uh . . . wait a minute, mate. Hear us oot. Listen tae whit ah've goat tae say here . . . what the fuck wis ah sayin . . . aye! Right. Whin yir oan junk, aw ye worry aboot is scorin. Oaf the gear, ye worry aboot loads ay things. Nae money, cannae git pished. Goat money, drinkin too much. Cannae git a burd, nae chance ay a ride. Git a burd, too much hassle, cannae breathe withoot her gittin oan yir case. Either that, or ye blow it, and feel aw guilty. Ye worry aboot bills, food, bailiffs, these Jambo Nazi scum beatin us, aw the things that ye couldnae gie a fuck aboot whin yuv goat a real junk habit. Yuv just goat one thing tae worry aboot. The simplicity ay it aw. Ken whit ah mean?

Ye’re a scholar — that’s easy to see, for a’ ye’re sae plain spoken. It dis a body’s hert guid to hear a man ‘at un’erstan’s things say them plain oot i’ the tongue his mither taucht him. Sic a ane ‘ill gang straucht till’s makker, an’ fin’ a’thing there hame-like. Lord, I wuss minnisters wad speyk like ither fowk!

MINION LANGUAGE English minions hello! bello goodbye! poopaye thankyou! tank yu I'm hungry me want banana ugly bananonina I swear... underwear fire! bee do bee do bee do we love you tulaliloo ti amo I hate you tatata bala tu for you para tu toy baboi chair chasy what poka apple bable ice cream gelato butt butt one hana two dul three sae

Once it’s in the soup, I’ll call it beef,” Greasy Sae says with a wink.

I know,” says Greasy Sae. “But you’ve got to go through it to get to the end of

Well, and near our cottage were rocks. Eh, lasses! ye don't know what rocks are in Manchester! Gray pieces o' stone as large as a house, all covered over wi' mosses of different colors, some yellow, some brown; and the ground beneath them knee deep in purple heather, smelling sae sweet and fragrant, and the low music of the humming-bee for ever sounding among it.

Wha Is That At My Bower-Door 1783 Wha is that at my bower-door? O wha is it but Findlay! Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here: Indeed maun I, quo' Findlay; What mak' ye, sae like a thief? O come and see, quo' Findlay; Before the morn ye'll work mischief: Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. Gif I rise and let you in- Let me in, quo' Findlay; Ye'll keep me waukin wi' your din;" Indeed will I, quo' Findlay; In my bower if ye should stay- Let me stay, quo' Findlay; I fear ye'll bide till break o' day; Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. Here this night if ye remain- I'll remain, quo' Findlay; I dread ye'll learn the gate again; Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. What may pass within this bower- Let it pass, quo' Findlay; Ye maun conceal till your last hour: Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

I doobt the fau't's nae sae muckle i' my temper as i' my hert. It's mair love that I want, Tibbie. Gin I lo'ed my neebor as mysel', I cudna be sae ill-natert till him; though 'deed, whiles, I'm angry eneuch at mysel' — a hantle waur nor at him." "Verra true, Thamas," answered Tibbie. "Perfect love casteth oot fear, 'cause there's nae room for the twa o' them; and I daursay it wad be the same wi' the temper.

Because I know him, too. Not from the Capitol but from years of having easy conversations in the Hob, joking over Greasy Sae’s soup, and that last day watching him lie unconscious in the square while the life bled out of Gale. Our new Avox is Darius.

Beware o’ Bonie Ann (Song) YE gallants bright, I rede you right, Beware o’ bonie Ann; Her comely face sae fu’ o’ grace, Your heart she will trepan: Her een sae bright, like stars by night,   5 Her skin sae like the swan; Sae jimply lac’d her genty waist, That sweetly ye might span.

Now that the meal is over, I'm fighting to keep the food down. I can see Peeta's looking a little green, too. Neither of our stomachs is used to such rich fare. But if I can hold down Greasy Sae's concoction of mice meat, pig entrails, and tree bark--a winter specialty--I'm determined to hang on to this." --Katniss

Is there for honest Poverty That hings his head, an' a' that; The coward slave-we pass him by, We dare be poor for a' that! For a' that, an' a' that. Our toils obscure an' a' that, The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The Man's the gowd for a' that. What though on hamely fare we dine, Wear hoddin grey, an' a that; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine; A Man's a Man for a' that: For a' that, and a' that, Their tinsel show, an' a' that; The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor, Is king o' men for a' that. Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that; Tho' hundreds worship at his word, He's but a coof for a' that: For a' that, an' a' that, His ribband, star, an' a' that: The man o' independent mind He looks an' laughs at a' that. A prince can mak a belted knight, A marquis, duke, an' a' that; But an honest man's abon his might, Gude faith, he maunna fa' that! For a' that, an' a' that, Their dignities an' a' that; The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth, Are higher rank than a' that. Then let us pray that come it may, (As come it will for a' that,) That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth, Shall bear the gree, an' a' that. For a' that, an' a' that, It's coming yet for a' that, That Man to Man, the world o'er, Shall brothers be for a' that.

Hearing this makes me feel like District 12 is some sort of safe haven. Of course, people keel over from starvation all the time, but I can’t imagine the Peacekeepers murdering a simpleminded child. There’s a little girl, one of Greasy Sae’s grandkids, who wanders around the Hob. She’s not quite right, but she’s treated as a sort of pet. People toss her scraps and things

I turn around and find the redheaded Avox girl who tended to me last year until the Games began. I think how nice it is to have a friend here. I notice that the young man beside her, another Avox, also has red hair. That must be what Effie meant by a matched set. Then a chill runs through me. Because I know him, too. Not from the Capitol but from years of having easy conversations in the Hob, joking over Greasy Sae’s soup, and that last day watching him lie unconscious in the square while the life bled out of Gale. Our new Avox is Darius.

Salam singkat kita yang menanyakan kabar, atau sepatah kata hangat dari kita bisa membuat orang-orang yang berharga bagi kita tidak memilih kematian, tetapi memilih hidup. Yang tersisa bagi kita hanyalah satu hal, yaitu kita mengasihi seseorang dengan segenap hati dan dikasihi oleh seseorang

We dinna hear 'at the Saviour himsel' ever sae muckle as smiled," said he. "Weel, that wad hae been little wonner, wi' what he had upo' 'm. But I'm nae sure that he didna, for a' that. Fowk disna aye tell whan a body lauchs. I'm thinkin' gin ane o' the bairnies that he took upo' 's knee,-- an' he was ill-pleased wi' them 'at wad hae sheued them awa'-- gin ane o' them had hauden up his wee timmer horsie, wi' a broken leg, he wadna hae wrocht a miracle maybe, I daursay, but he wad hae smilet, or maybe lauchen a wee, and he wad hae men't the leg some gait or ither to please the bairnie. And gin 't had been me, I wad raither hae had the men'in o' 's twa han's, wi' a knife to help them maybe, nor twenty miracles upo' 't.

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae fareweel, alas, for ever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee! Who shall say that Fortune grieves him While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me, Dark despair around benights me. I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy; Naething could resist my Nancy; For to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love for ever. Had we never loved sae kindly, Had we never loved sae blindly, Never met—or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted. Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest! Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest! Thine be ilka joy and treasure, Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure! Ae fond kiss, and then we sever! Ae fareweel, alas, for ever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee!

those glasses aren't for the sun they're for darkness, exclaims Rue. Sometimes when we harvest through the night, they'll pass out a few pairs to those of us highest in the trees. Where the torchlight doesn't reach. One time, this boy Martin, he tried to keep his pair. Hid it in his pants. They killed him on the spot. They killed a boy for taking these/ I say Yes. and everyone knew he was no danger. Martin wasn't right in the head. I mean he still acted like a three year old. He just wanted the glasses to play with, says Rue. Hearing this makes me feel like District 12 is some sort of safe haven. Of course, people keel over from starvation all the time, but I can't imagine the peacekeepers murdering a simpleminded child. There's a little girl, one of greasy sae's gradkids, who wanders around the Hob. She's not quite right but she's treated as a sort of pet. People toss her scraps and things.

Why does your sword so drip with blood, Edward, Edward? Why does your sword so drip with blood? And why so sad are ye, O?' 'O, I have killed my hawk so good, Mother, mother: O I have killed my hawk so good: And I had no more but he, O.' 'Your hawk's blood was never so red, Edward, Edward: Your hawk’s blood was never so red, My dear son I tell thee, O.' 'O, I have killed my red-roan steed, Mother, mother: O, I have killed my red-roan steed, That once was so fair and free, O.' 'Your steed was old, and we have got more, Edward, Edward: Your steed was old, and we have got more, Some other evil ye fear, O.' 'O, I have killed my father dear, Mother, mother: O, I have killed my father dear, Alas! and woe is me, O!' 'And what penance will ye suffer for that, Edward, Edward? And what penance will ye suffer for that? My dear son, now tell me, O.' 'I'll set my feet in yonder boat, Mother, mother: I’ll set my feet in yonder boat, And I’ll fare over the sea, O.' 'And what will ye do with your towers and your halls, Edward, Edward? And what will ye do with your towers and your halls, That were sae fair to see, O?' 'I’ll let them stand till they down fall, Mother, mother: I’ll let them stand till they down fall, For here never more may I be, O.' 'And what will ye leave to your children and your wife, Edward, Edward? And what will ye leave to your children and your wife When ye go over the sea, O?' 'The world is large, let them beg through life, Mother, mother: The world is large, let them beg throw life, For them never more will I see, O.' 'And what will ye leave to your own mother dear, Edward, Edward? And what will ye leave to your own mother dear? My dear son, now tell me, O.' 'The curse of hell from me shall you bear for me, Mother, mother: The curse of hell from me shall you bear for me, Such counsels you gave to me, O.

My head snaps around at the hiss, but it takes awhile to believe he’s real. How could he have gotten here? I take in the claw marks from some wild animal, the back paw he holds slightly above the ground, the prominent bones in his face. He’s come on foot, then, all the way from 13. Maybe they kicked him out or maybe he just couldn’t stand it there without her, so he came looking. “It was the waste of a trip. She’s not here,” I tell him. Buttercup hisses again. “She’s not here. You can hiss all you like. You won’t find Prim.” At her name, he perks up. Raises his flattened ears. Begins to meow hopefully. “Get out!” He dodges the pillow I throw at him. “Go away! There’s nothing left for you here!” I start to shake, furious with him. “She’s not coming back! She’s never ever coming back here again!” I grab another pillow and get to my feet to improve my aim. Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. “She’s dead.” I clutch my middle to dull the pain. Sink down on my heels, rocking the pillow, crying. “She’s dead, you stupid cat. She’s dead.” A new sound, part crying, part singing, comes out of my body, giving voice to my despair. Buttercup begins to wail as well. No matter what I do, he won’t go. He circles me, just out of reach, as wave after wave of sobs racks my body, until eventually I fall unconscious. But he must understand. He must know that the unthinkable has happened and to survive will require previously unthinkable acts. Because hours later, when I come to in my bed, he’s there in the moonlight. Crouched beside me, yellow eyes alert, guarding me from the night. In the morning, he sits stoically as I clean the cuts, but digging the thorn from his paw brings on a round of those kitten mews. We both end up crying again, only this time we comfort each other. On the strength of this, I open the letter Haymitch gave me from my mother, dial the phone number, and weep with her as well. Peeta, bearing a warm loaf of bread, shows up with Greasy Sae. She makes us breakfast and I feed all my bacon to Buttercup.

when will i be free saes the cilde to the stag and the stag saes thu will nefer be free then when will angland be free angland will nefer be free then what can be done naht can be done then how moste i lif thu moste be triewe that is all there is be triewe be triewe

there is no gods saes grimcell but in thy deorc heorte man

it is bocs that does yfel i saes all bocs the boc of the crist the boc of the cyng all laws from abuf mor efry year.

Soroi n'ti Mee, Love of my life... Soroe n'ti Mau, Friend of my heart... z'Mee kumin Tau, Join me in life... be nor ret n'Kahn, tizmar sae? Please stay, beyond the cruel dawn?

A Keith ca' ye her! It's a queer kin' o' Keiths she's comed o', nae better nor Englishers that haena sae muckle's set fit in our bonny Scotland; an' sic scriechin', skirlin' tongues as they hae, a body wad need to be gleg i' the uptak to understan' a word they say. Tak' my word for't, Maister Colin, it's no a'thegither luve for his lordship's grey hairs that gars yon gilpy lassock seek to become my Leddy Keith.

Mr Mingin minged. He monged tae. And if it is guid Scots tae say he mingit, then he mingit as weel. He wis the mingiest mingin minger that ever lived. Mingin is the warst kind o smell. Mingin is warse than honkin. Honkin is warse than bowfin. Bowfin is warse than a guff. And a guff can sometimes be enough tae mak yer neb curl up and dee. It wisnae Mr Mingin’s faut he wis mingin. Efter aw, he wis a tink. He didnae hae a hame sae he never had the chaunce tae hae a richt guid waash like you and me. Efter a while, the guff jist got warse and warse. Here is a pictur o Mr Mingin.

El tazón roto se convierte en espada aguda. Todas las cosas que se han roto se vuelven espadas.

One need not be formally convicted in a court of law to be subject to this shame and stigma. As long as you "look like" or "seem like" a criminal, you are treated with the sa,e suspicion and contempt, not just by police, security guards, or hall monitors at your school, but also by the woman who crosses the street to avoid you and by the store employees who follow you through the aisles, eager to catch you in the act of being the"criminalblackmam"--arcjetypal figures who justifies the New Jim Crow.

A long time ago, daughter, we Chinese married strangers, because most of the people who lived near us were of the same sae. By the time a bride could visit her parents, perhaps two weeks had passed. And sometimes it was such a distance that the 'bride' arrived with one fat baby clingingtoher skirts and another in her arms. But it remains our tradition to honor a married daughter on her first visit home, even when her journey is from the shop next door.

On Hearing A Man Complain Of His Wife's Bad Temper Sad news tae hear that man an' wife Atween themsel's should hae sic strife; But why lay a' the blame on Bell, There's surely something in yoursel', Of which, perhaps, you're not aware, That mak's her aften flyte sae sair? Does a' your silly actions tend Her tounge an' temper to amend, When ye come in, aye looking roon Her fau'ts tae fin', ere you sit doon? If that's the method ye pursue, Tae hunt up fau'ts, you'd get anew Tae mar your peace, an' kindle strife, Had ye an angel for a wife. James Munce (1881)

Yang tersisa bagi kita hanyalah satu hal, yaitu kita mengasihi seseorang dengan segenap hati dan dikasihi oleh seseorang.

I may not be a "fly" woman, but I have grown wise enough to know that my atheism, striking as it does at the main prop and pillar of the establishment, debars me from gaining any recognition whatsoever, even if I wished to do so, which I do not. I have never had any personal ambitions. I have but one: to make my contribution to helping to destroy the capitalist system. That is why I don't hold my tongue.

Hoot, Johnie Rousseau mon, what for hae ye sae mony figmangairies? You’re a bonny man indeed to mauk siccan a wark; set ye up. Canna ye just live like ither fowk?

THE PUDDOCK A puddock sat by the lochan's brim, An he thought there was never a puddock like him. he sat on his hurdies, he waggled his legs, An cockit his heid as he glowered through the seggs. The biggsy wee cratur was feelin that prood, He gapit his mou an he croakit oot lood: 'Gin ye'd a like tae see a richt puddock,' quo he, 'Ye'll never, I'll sweer, get a better nor me. I've femlies an wives an a weel-plenished hame, Wi drink for my thrapple an meat for my wame. The lasses aye thocht me a fine strappin chiel, An I ken I'm a rale bonny singer as weel. I'm nae gaun tae blaw, but th' truth I maun tell - I believe I'm the verra McPuddock himsel.'... A heron was hungry an needin tae sup, Sae he nabbit th' puddock an gollupt him up; Syne runkled his feathers: 'A peer thing,' quo he, 'But - puddocks is nae fat they eesed tae be.

sum times the craws they drifs off the hafoc but sum times the hafoc it tacs down sum craw and this then is the greatest thing to see. to see this hafoc and this craw to see them rise and fall to the ground to see this hafoc tear at this craw this is to see the lif of all of us and it is to asc thy self if thu is hafoc or thu is craw. or if thu is ael for sum men writhes without efen feohtan thu moste see the hafoc tac down the craw he saes and thu will see that all of the world is blud and thy worc is not to lose thine before thy time. be the hafoc not the craw nor the ael for this is how we cum to this land and it is what we is

there is ways to see this world i saes. there is the way of the boc and the way of the wilde there is the god of the boc and the gods of the mere there is the way of the crist and the eald ways of this land. i is cum from the mere i specs for the wilde for the eald gods under the blaec waters in the drencced treows. i is the lands law ofer mens i is eorth not heofon leaf of treow not leaf of boc

Jika kamu mempunyai keberanian untuk mengakhiri hidupmu, jalanilah hidupmu dengan keberanian itu.

VERTICAL TURBINE BEARING MATERIAL DATA 1. Bronze-SAE 660 (Standard) #1104 ASTM-B-584-932 -50 to 250° F Min. S.G. of 0.6 General purpose material for non-abrasive, neutral pH service. 7% Tin/7% Lead/3% Zinc/83% Cu. 2. Bronze-SAE 64 (Zincless) #1107 ASTM-B-584-937 -50 to 180°F Min. S.G. of 0.6 Similar to std. bronze. Used for salt water services. 10%

Oscar was a pig, and he was the SAE mascot. We were informed that the worst pledge of the semester would be fucking Oscar the night we became active. Yes. You read that right, folks! Fucking a pig! This was something I was positive had not come up during rush week

Kita tinggal di bawah langit yang sama, tapi ada dunia yang kita tidak kenal.

Kita tidak akan membawanya mati. Jadi, aku berpikir untuk tidak membuang hidupku untuk hal-hal yang akan menjadi sia-sia sesudah aku mati.

1951 FirePower? In a White Paper presented to the Society of Automotive Engineers (SAE) dated March 1952, Chrysler Vice-President Director of Engineering and Research James Zeder summed it up nicely: “The power of an engine should be based on physique, not stimulants.