“
I wanted to go on sitting there, not talking, not listening to the others, keeping the moment precious for all time, because we were peaceful all of us, we were content and drowsy even as the bee who droned above our heads. In a little while it would be different, there would come tomorrow, and the next day and another year. And we would be changed perhaps, never sitting quite like this again. Some of us would go away, or suffer, or die, the future stretched away in front of us, unknown, unseen, not perhaps what we wanted, not what we planned. This moment was safe though, this could not be touched. Here we sat together, Maxim and I, hand-in-hand, and the past and the future mattered not at all. This was secure, this funny little fragment of time he would never remember, never think about again…For them it was just after lunch, quarter-past-three on a haphazard afternoon, like any hour, like any day. They did not want to hold it close, imprisoned and secure, as I did. They were not afraid.
”
”
Daphne du Maurier (Rebecca)
“
What were you thinking?" I demanded once we were moving to the music. I was trying to ignore his hands. "Do you know how much trouble you may have gotten me in?"
Adrian grinned. "Nah. They all feel bad for you. You'll achieve martyrdom after dancing with a mean, wicked vampire. Job security with the Alchemists.
”
”
Richelle Mead (The Indigo Spell (Bloodlines, #3))
“
He started to touch the mechanism under the keyboard,
then pulled his hand back with a snap.
"Ah," he said. "Must deactivate the security....Turn around, please."
"What?"
"Turn around, Claire. It's a secure password!"
"You have GOT to be kidding."
"Why ever would I joke about that? Please turn.
”
”
Rachel Caine (Ghost Town (The Morganville Vampires, #9))
“
Simon turned to Jordan, who was lying down across the futon, his head propped against one of the woven throw pillows. "How much of that did you hear?"
"Enough to gather that we're going to a party tonight," said Jordan. "I heard about the Ironworks event. I'm not in the Garroway pack, so I wasn't invited."
"I guess you're coming as my date now." Simon shoved the phone back into his pocket.
"I'm secure enough in my masculinity to accept that," said Jordan. "We'd better get you something nice to wear, though," he called as Simon headed back into his room. "I want you to look pretty.
”
”
Cassandra Clare (City of Fallen Angels (The Mortal Instruments, #4))
“
Belatedly, I notice how much easier it is to walk on these sticks when you can't feel your legs. Lesson number one for hooch wear, be drunk. It might make dancing more of a challenge, but I wasn't feeling a thing and it was beautiful.
”
”
Harper Sloan (Axel (Corps Security, #1))
“
That’s a federal crime,” I told him. “Punishable by three to five years in a minimum-security prison. You’ll get passed around like condiments at a barbeque.” “My hole is already quivering,” he said.
”
”
T.J. Klune (Tell Me It's Real (At First Sight, #1))
“
Whoa. Not too stiff," Cody said. "Secure, strong, but calm. Like you're caressing a beautiful woman, remember?"
That made me think of Megan.
I lost control, and a green wave of smoky energy burst from my hand and flew out in front of me. It missed the pipe completely, but vaporized the metal leg of the chair it sat on. Dust showered down and the chair went lopsided, dumping the pipe to the floor with a clang.
"Sparks," Cody said. "Remind me to never let you caress me, lad.
”
”
Brandon Sanderson (Steelheart (The Reckoners, #1))
“
So, Mr. Digence, home to visit the family?"
"That's right. My mother's folks are from Killarney."
"Oh, really?"
"O'Reilly, actually. But what's a vowel between friends?"
"Very good. You should be on the stage."
"It's funny you should mention that."
The passport officer groaned. Ten more minutes and his shift would have been over. "I was being sarcastic, actually. . ."
"Because my friend, Mr. McGuire, and I are also doing a stint in the Christmas pantomime. It's Snow White. I'm Doc, and he's Dopey."
The passport officer forced a smile. "Very good. Next."
Mulch spoke for the entire line to hear. "Of course, Mr. McGuire there was born to play Dopey, if you catch my drift."
Loafers lost it right there in the terminal. "You little freak!" he screamed. "I'll kill you! You'll be my next tattoo! You'll be my next tattoo!"
Much tutted as Loafers disappeared beneath half a dozen security guards.
"Actors," he said. "Highly strung.
”
”
Eoin Colfer (The Eternity Code (Artemis Fowl, #3))
“
Morley joined them, and after a long, uncomfortable moment, Mrs. Grant decided to ignore his presence. The
guards didn’t. Their knuckles were white on their weapons.
May I assist?” he asked, and put his hands behind his back. “I promise not to eat anyone.”
Very funny,” Mrs. Grant said. Morley gave her a grave look.
I wasn’t joking, dear lady,” he said. “I do promise. And I never make a promise I don’t intend to keep. You
should feel quite secure.”
Well, I’m sorry, I don’t,” she said. “You’re just—”
Too overwhelmingly dashing and attractive?” Morley grinned. “A common problem women face with me.
It’ll pass. You seem like the no-nonsense sort. I like that.”
Claire smiled at the look on Mrs. Grant’s face, reflected in the white LED light of the lantern she was holding.
You are really—odd,” the older woman said, as if she couldn’t quite believe she was even having the
conversation.
”
”
Rachel Caine (Kiss of Death (The Morganville Vampires, #8))
“
What's so funny?"
"Your panties have a bow," he said.
I looked down. I was wearing a short tank top -not mine- and my blue panties with a narrow white strip of lace at the top and a tiny white bow. Would it have killed me to check what I was wearing before I pulled the blanket down? "What's wrong with bows?"
"Nothing." He was grinning now. "I expected barbed wire. Or one of those steel chains."
Wiseass. "I'm secure enough in myself to wear panties with bows on them. Besides, they are comfy and soft."
"I bet.
”
”
Ilona Andrews (Magic Burns (Kate Daniels, #2))
“
A rap at the back door made her jump, and she peered through the window for a long time before she eased open the door a crack. She left the security chain on. 'What do you want, Richard?'
Richard Morrell's police cruiser was parked in the drive. He hadn't flashed any lights or howled any sirens, so she supposed it wasn't an emergency, exactly. But she knew him well enough to know he didn't pay social visits, at least not to the Glass House.
'Good question,' Richard said. 'I guess I want a nice girl who can cook, likes action movies, and looks good in short skirts. But I'll settle for you taking the chain off the door and letting me in.
”
”
Rachel Caine (Feast of Fools (The Morganville Vampires, #4))
“
I'm used to the security of living behind my online profiles and the clip art advertisdements I create to define me. I can be whoever I want to be in that world. I can be funny, deep, pensive, eccentric. I can be the best version of myself. I can make all the right decisions. I can delete my flaws by pressing a button.
In the real world anything can happen. It's like stepping onto an icy surface--you have to adjust your footing or you'll slip and fall. Your movements become rigid and unsure because behind all the fancy gadgets and all that digital armor, you realize you're just flesh and bones.
”
”
Katie Kacvinsky (Awaken (Awaken, #1))
“
Aurora sagged. "Why is it," she asked, "that every time I'm with you two we end up stealing something big?"
"We always return it," Donegan said, a little defensively. "Maybe not always in one piece or necessarily to the right person but return it we do, and so it is not stealing, it is merely borrowing."
Gracious looked at him. "It's a little bit stealing."
"Anyone who leaves a private jet just lying around deserves to have it stolen."
"It wasn't lying around," said Gracious. "It was locked up tight. It took us an hour to dismantle the security system and get inside."
Donegan looked at him. "You're not helping.
”
”
Derek Landy (The Maleficent Seven (Skulduggery Pleasant, #7.5))
“
Now it is easy to perceive that the moral part of love is a factitious sentiment, engendered by society, and cried up by the women with great care and address in order to establish their empire, and secure command to that sex which ought to obey.
”
”
Jean-Jacques Rousseau (Discourse on the Origin of Inequality (Dover Thrift Editions: Philosophy))
“
By weaving their thoughts and feelings into the substance of reality, the Weavers had ensured anyone writing about them would secure an instant bestseller – which wasn’t particularly difficult, considering the Weavers held the strings on the one holding the pen.
Those who controlled the Pattern, controlled reality.
”
”
Louise Blackwick (The Weaver of Odds (Vivian Amberville, #1))
“
The Dictionary defines Soul Mate as: A person who is perfectly suited to another in temperament. Before I met mine, I didn't know I was bonkers!
”
”
James Hauenstein
“
No kind of social system can make you more happier and secure than your own money.
”
”
Amit Kalantri
“
Shamu and I have arrived safely in Costa Rica. He was stopped by airport security because he carries enough artillery in his pants pockets to construct a sawed-off shotgun. Evidently, he thought we were headed to Iraq.
”
”
Chelsea Handler (Are You There, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea)
“
Well, well, well,” Santa said once the elf had retreated. “Come and sit on my lap, little boy.”
This Santa’s beard was real, and so was his hair. He wasn’t fucking around.
“I’m not really a little boy,” I pointed out.
“Get on my lap, then, big boy.”
I walked up to him. There wasn’t much lap under his belly. And even though he tried to disguise it, as I went up there, I swear he adjusted
his crotch.
“Ho ho ho!” he chortled.
I sat gingerly on his knee, like it was a subway seat with gum on it.
“Have you been a good little boy this year?” he asked.
I didn’t feel that I was the right person to determine my own goodness or badness, but in the interest of speeding along this encounter, I said yes.
He actually wobbled with joy.
“Good! Good! Then what can I bring you this Christmas?”
I thought it was obvious.
“A message from Lily,” I said. “That’s what I want for Christmas. But I want it right now.”
“So impatient!” Santa lowered his voice and whispered in my ear. “But Santa does have a little something for you”—he shifted a little in
his seat—“right under his coat. If you want to have your present, you’ll have to rub Santa’s belly.”
“What?” I asked.
He gestured with his eyes down to his stomach. “Go ahead.”
I looked closely and saw the faint outline of an envelope beneath his red velvet coat.
“You know you want it,” he whispered.
The only way I could survive this was to think of it as the dare it was.
Fuck off, Lily. You can’t intimidate me.
I reached right under Santa’s coat. To my horror, I found he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. It was hot, sweaty, Geshy, hairy … and
his belly was this massive obstacle, blocking me from the envelope. I had to lean over to angle my arm in order to reach it, the whole time
having Santa laugh, “Oh ho ho, ho ho oh ho!” in my ear.
I heard the elf scream, “What the hell!” and various parents start to shriek. Yes, I was feeling up Santa. And now the corner of the envelope was in my hand. He tried to jiggle it away from me, but I held tight and yanked it
out, pulling some of his white belly hair with me. “OW ho ho!” he cried. I jumped o1 his lap.
“Security’s here!” the elf proclaimed.
The letter was in my hand, damp but intact.
“He touched Santa!” a young child squealed.
”
”
Rachel Cohn (Dash & Lily's Book of Dares (Dash & Lily, #1))
“
Funny, how easy that could be. When you found the right person, there was no hiding of flaws... there was just trying to do better. There was the comfort of admitting your weaknesses and trying to get past them. The knowledge that no one needed you to be on all the time, always fun, upbeat, attentive... He only needed you to be yourself. The security in knowing someone loved simply being with you.
”
”
Kristan Higgins (Now That You Mention It)
“
Contrary to popular wisdom, bullies are rarely cowards.
Bullies come in various shapes and sizes. Observe yours. Gather intelligence.
Shunning one hopeless battle is not an act of cowardice.
Hankering for security or popularity makes you weak and vulnerable.
Which is worse: Scorn earned by informers? Misery endured by victims?
The brutal May have been molded by a brutality you cannot exceed.
Let guile be your ally.
Respect earned by integrity cannot be lost without your consent.
Don't laugh at what you don't find funny.
Don't support an opinion you don't hold.
The independent befriend the independent.
Adolescence dies in its fourth year. You live to be eighty.
”
”
David Mitchell (Black Swan Green)
“
Tell me, what's the difference between tracking a wild beast and securing a husband?
”
”
Shari L. Tapscott (Moss Forest Orchid (Silver and Orchids, #1))
“
Megan was able to get me the single most important item in this entire house."
"She got you that new vibrator?"
"Jesus..."
"Oh, the cookbook, right," he said, remembering.
Megan used to work for the Food Network, and was able to secure me a signed copy of the original Barefoot Contessa cookbook.
”
”
Alice Clayton (Last Call (Cocktail, #4.5))
“
People think it’s harmless. They think it’s funny. That’s why they do it,” I say, trying to ignore the strange shiver where he touched my arm. Must be static electricity. “And sure. I guess it’s harmless until something bad happens. It’s harmless, and then there are security guards at your synagogue because someone called in a bomb threat. It’s harmless, and you’re terrified to get out of bed Saturday morning and go to services.
”
”
Rachel Lynn Solomon (Today Tonight Tomorrow (Rowan & Neil, #1))
“
So sorry, friends. I'm needed in the greenhouses on a matter of national security. No one else can prune the peonies.
”
”
Leigh Bardugo (King of Scars (King of Scars, #1))
“
Everyone gets caught accidentally sneaking weird stuff through security sometimes though.
”
”
Jenny Lawson (Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things)
“
The security guy asked my name address and phone number, and then he asked me what was the difference between a condom and a cockpit.
”
”
Chuck Palahniuk (Fight Club)
“
Or the woman in front of me in the security line who asked if they would put her cat, Dave, through the luggage X-ray machine because she wanted to see if he'd eaten a necklace.
”
”
Jenny Lawson (Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things)
“
Turning her attention back to her Aunt she sighed softly. “I’d really like my security deposit back on this place, so if you do end up having to kill him… well…”
Nabha laughed softly, patting her niece on the arm. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it outside.”
“Good.” Devon sighed with relief. That was one less thing to worry about. “As long as we’re on the same page.
”
”
Jane Cousins (To Shackle A Shrew (Southern Sanctuary, #7))
“
And I got the like, crazy mental illness, so like, maybe someday they'll be like, 'Yeah, he was like Rembrandt, or, uh, Picasso, only he didn't, he didn't cut his ear off, but he ate his own shit. That's so funny, dude. Oh, that's so funny. I'm glad I'm secure in my own idiocy.
”
”
Aaron Kyle Andresen
“
It’s almost funny how easy it is for me to keep her off balance. Not that I'm trying to or anything, but she is feeling awkward about my declaration of love. I’m not going to hide it from her.
”
”
A.J. Andersen (Finding Faye (K&S Securities #1))
“
It was a survival thing: he didn't answer back, didn't say anything about job security for prison guards, debate the nature of repentance, rehabilitation, or rates of recidivism. He didn't say anything funny or clever, and, to be on the safe side, when he was talking to a prison official, whenever possible, he didn't say anything at all. Speak when you're spoken to. Do your own time. Get out. Go home. ... Rebuild a life.
”
”
Neil Gaiman (American Gods (American Gods, #1))
“
-Now, before you begin to worry, the section of the goal tham I’m standing in is completely secure. No problems here. I`m not in any danger whatsoever.
-And the section I’m standing in?
-Well, the important thing to remember is that I’m perfectly safe.
-I’m stuck in here with the bad guys, aren’t I?
-Or you could be glass-half-full about it and say that they are stuck in there with you. Wich might make you feel better.
-It really doesn’t.
”
”
Skulduggery Pleasant Valkyrie Cain KIndom of the Wicked
“
I'm having a bad day," I told him. My little brother hated me, my human-alien personal security guard confessed he doesn't know compassion from compost, and now my old high school crush informs me he's embarking on a suicide mission to rescue two missing and probably dead people. PLUS I wanted a sandwich that I could never have.
-Cassie
”
”
Rick Yancey
“
The full tigers watched him silently. All females. Thankfully. He would be less than happy if he had to take on some territorial male.
Well, this little adventure was only going to last through today. As soon as night came, he would get his furry ass out of here. Even if he had to scare some poor security guard to death. Then he would be heading to California. He had some dog butt to kick.
Sighing, Nik looked up to find a small child staring at him. A small child busy picking his nose.
Could this get any worse?
The females stirred restlessly near him and he caught the scent they had.
Oh no. Please. Not that.
They stood in front of him, completely unaware of his presence and arguing like two ten-year-olds.
Nik didn't bother searching for a way out. There was no way out. Those two evil witches trapped him. Trapped him in hell.
Throwing up his hands in anger, Alek turned away from Ban, facing the tiger display. Alek's gold eyes stared at Nik for a moment, a frown of confusion pulling his brows down. Then he smiled. And then he just became plain hysterical.
Bastard! This wasn't and never would be funny!
Ban stared at Alek for several confused moments before catching sight of Nik.
As his brothers literally rolled on the ground laughing hysterically--and freaking out all the zoo visitors--Nik seethed
”
”
Shelly Laurenston (Here Kitty, Kitty! (Magnus Pack, #3))
“
And I’m not sure why I wasted all that time and energy, because when I think about family—that thing I’d always longed for—it’s never been a Norman Rockwell painting that I picture. It’s me and Mom, on the couch, eating microwaved corn dogs while Dial M for Murder plays on TV. It’s running out from the library at night to her car, a greasy box of Little Caesars pizza in the passenger seat, her joking, I thought we’d do Italian. It’s being pulled away from watching the frost melt on the living room window to make stovetop hot cocoa from a packet, and that last tight hug at the end of the airport security line, and packing up cardboard boxes, knowing I’ll always have what I need, no matter how much I leave behind.
”
”
Emily Henry (Funny Story)
“
What happens when the YA thriller writer heroine tries to get thru airport security with her research notes in her bag? :
“How to murder people by poison without detection,” the TSA agent read aloud.
The woman behind Colbie gasped in horror.
“Okay,” Colbie said, pointing to them. “That’s not what it looks like.”
The woman behind her, cradling a leopard-print cat carrier, had turned and was frantically whispering to the people behind her.
“Really,” Colbie said. “It’s a funny story, actually.”
But the agent was flipping through her notes, not even remotely interested in her funny story. He didn’t need to read aloud what he was looking at, because she knew exactly what was there – other Google searches, such as how to get away with murder using a variety of different everyday products that weren’t considered weapons. “It’s research,” she said to the room.
"Yeah, that’s probably what I’d say too,” a guy said from somewhere behind her.
”
”
Jill Shalvis (Chasing Christmas Eve (Heartbreaker Bay, #4))
“
You've got to stop and ask yourself once in a while...why some asinine politicians would quicker cut out social security than the space program...Go figure.
”
”
Timothy Pina
“
But the question is, am I really better, or am I just lulled into a false sense of security by this fake environment?
”
”
Ned Vizzini It's kind of a Funny Story
“
Fuck you. I’m an adult.” And as an adult, he could pout if he fucking wanted to.
”
”
Charlie Cochet (Join the Club (Four Kings Security, #3))
“
You are hereby warned that any movement on your part not explicitly endorsed by verbal authorization on my part may pose a direct physical risk to you, as well as consequential psychological and possibly, depending on your personal belief system, spiritual risks ensuing from your personal reaction to said physical risk. Any movement on your part constitutes an implicit and irrevocable acceptance of such risk," the first MetaCop says. There is a little speaker on his belt, simultaneously translating all of this into Spanish and Japanese.
"Or as we used to say," the other MetaCop says, "freeze, sucker!"
"Under provisions of The Mews at Windsor Heights Code, we are authorized to enforce law, national security concerns, and societal harmony on said territory also. A treaty between The Mews at Windsor Heights and White Columns authorizes us to place you in temporary custody until your status as an Investigatory Focus has been resolved."
"Your ass is busted," the second MetaCop says.
"As your demeanor has been nonaggressive and you carry no visible weapons, we are not authorized to employ heroic measures to ensure your cooperation," the first MetaCop says.
"You stay cool and we'll stay cool," the second MetaCop says.
"However, we are equipped with devices, including but not limited to projectile weapons, which, if used, may pose an extreme and immediate threat to your health and well-being."
"Make one funny move and we'll blow your head off," the second MetaCop says.
”
”
Neal Stephenson (Snow Crash)
“
Maddie squirmed out from under him. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I know this is supposed to be physical. Impersonal. It’s only that I keep thinking of lobsters.”
He flipped onto his back and lay there, blinking up at the ceiling. “Until just now, I would have said there was nothing remaining that could surprise me in bed. I was wrong.”
She sat up, drawing her knees to her chest. “I am the girl who made up a Scottish lover, wrote him scores of letters, and kept up an elaborate ruse for years. Does it really surprise you that I’m odd?”
“Maybe not.”
“Lobsters court for months before mating. Before the male can mate with her, the female has to feel secure enough to molt out of her shell. If a spiny sea creature is worth months of effort, can’t I have just a bit more time? I don’t understand the urgency.
”
”
Tessa Dare
“
Thursday, you mean everything to me. Not just because you're cute, smart, funny and have a devastatingly good figure and boobs to die for, but that you do right for right's sake - it's what you are and what you do. Even if I never get my magnum opus published, I will still die secure in the knowledge that my time on this planet was well-spent - giving support, love and security to someone who actually makes a difference.
”
”
Jasper Fforde (First Among Sequels (Thursday Next, #5))
“
I'm used to the security of living behind my online profiles and the clip art advertisements I create to define me. I can be whoever I want to be in that world. I can be funny, deep, pensive, eccentric. I can be the best version of myself. Better yet, an exaggeration of the best version of myself. I can make all the right decisions. I can delete my flaws by pressing a button.
In the real world anything can happen. It's like stepping onto an icy surface—you have to adjust your footing or you'll slip and fall. Your movements become rigid and unsure because behind all the fancy gadgets and all that digital armor, you realize you're just flesh and bones.
”
”
Katie Kacvinsky (Awaken (Awaken, #1))
“
“Sit with me,” Isaiah says. As I move to rest next to him, he stops me. “Not there. Here.” He motions to the spot between his legs.
Awkwardly, I settle in front of him. Isaiah, the king of secure, waves off any distance between us as he gathers me into the safe shelter of his body. The blood pulses faster in my veins. I like being this close to him. Maybe a little too much.
“You’re beautiful.” His breath tickles the skin behind my ear, and the small hairs stand on end with the joyous sensation. “You’re smart and funny. I love how your eyes shine when you laugh.”
He glides his fingers against my skin causing an addictive tingling. “I love how you lace your fingers and brush your hair from your face when you’re nervous. I love how you offer yourself so completely to me—no fear. You’re loyal and strong.”
“I’m not strong.” I cut him off. The panic attacks confirm that. Unable to be near him anymore, I attempt to untangle myself from him, but Isaiah becomes a solid wall around me and I jerk in his arms in protest.
His tender hold tightens, and the words feel like poetry because of the deep, soothing way he speaks. “You’re wrong. I see you exactly as you are.”
”
”
Katie McGarry (Crash into You (Pushing the Limits, #3))
“
My second thought was to fire a gunshot, but the last time I did that his security robots jumped me. It only takes one cavity search by a robot to convince you that’s an experience you don’t want to have twice. This called for a more subtle approach.
”
”
John Zakour (The Frost-Haired Vixen (Nuclear Bombshell, #4))
“
Bindu held up her hands in a T-shape. "Neither of you are married or seeing anyone. The aunties did background checks." "Background checks?" Prem asked. "How did you? I mean- I didn't give you any of my personal information."
Farha Auntie stood from her chair, brushed off her shoulders, and then stepped closer until she could whisper in his face. "I have your home address, genealogy history, the balance on your credit card, and your social security number prita. As well as the name of your pet beta fish when you were six. Don't test us.
”
”
Nisha Sharma (Dating Dr. Dil (If Shakespeare Was an Auntie, #1))
“
The futility of samsara. Samsara is preferring death to life. It comes from always trying to create safety zones. We get stuck here because we cling to a funny little identity that gives us some kind of security, painful though it may be. The fourth reminder is to remember the futility of this strategy.
”
”
Pema Chödrön (Comfortable with Uncertainty: 108 Teachings on Cultivating Fearlessness and Compassion)
“
My mother was (still is) a timeless beauty—she’s also smart and funny—but when she was dating someone, I’d watch her turn werewolf-style from a competent, determined authority figure into this entirely not-her version of herself: a desperate, overly flirtatious, subservient ding-dong for shitty men who’d inevitably dump her and leave her in tears. And yes, this is harsh, but this type of personality-corrupting toxic masculinity bullshit didn’t spring up from within her out of nowhere. She was taught to do this, taught that acting sweet, deferential, and noncombative was her best chance at securing a man, aka happiness.
”
”
Karen Kilgariff (Stay Sexy & Don't Get Murdered: The Definitive How-To Guide)
“
The blast wave that passed through my sister’s office doubtless passed through devout Muslims, atheist Muslims, gay Muslims, funny Muslims, and lovestruck Muslims—not to mention Pakistani Christians, Chinese engineers, American security contractors, and Indian Sikhs. What civilization, then, did the bomb target? And from what civilization did it originate?
”
”
Mohsin Hamid (Discontent and Its Civilizations)
“
Where are the laughs in massacre, famine and climate change, exactly? What’s so funny about the Middle East, North Korea and Afghanistan? Who’s going to chuckle when they pick up the London Review of Books and find John Lanchester arguing, convincingly as always, that the banking habits of the British people pose a greater threat to their own security than terrorism?
”
”
Jonathan Coe (Marginal Notes, Doubtful Statements: Non-fiction, 1990-2013)
“
Funny, how easy that could be. When you found the right person, there was no hiding of flaws...there was just trying to do better. There was the comfort of admitting your weaknesses and trying to get past them. The knowledge that no one needed you to be on all the time, always fun, upbeat, attentive... He only needed you to be yourself. The security in knowing someone loved simply being with you.
”
”
Kristan Higgins (Now That You Mention It)
“
99 Problems is almost a deliberate provocation to simpleminded listeners. If that sounds crazy, you have to understand: Being misunderstood is almost a badge of honor in rap. Growing up as a black kid from the projects, you can spend your whole life being misunderstood, followed around department stores, looked at funny, accused of crimes you didn't commit, accused of motivations you don't have, dehumanized -- until you realize, one day, it's not about you. It's the perceptions people had long before you even walked onto the scene. The joke's on them because they're really just fighting phantoms of their own creation. Once you realize that, things get interesting. It's like when we were kids. You'd start bopping hard and throwing the ice grill when you step into Macy's and laugh to yourself when security guards got nervous and started shadowing you. You might have a knot of cash in your pocket, but you boost something anyway, just for the sport of it. Fuck 'em. Sometimes the mask is to hide and sometimes it's to play at being something you're not so you can watch the reactions of people who believe the mask is real. Because that's when they reveal themselves. So many people can't see that every great rapper is a not just a documentarian, but a trickster -- that every great rapper has a little bit of Chuck and a little bit of Flav in them -- but that's not our problem, it's their failure: the failure, or unwillingness, to treat rap like art, instead of acting like it's a bunch of niggas reading out of their diaries. Art elevates and refines and transforms experience. And sometimes it just fucks with you for the fun of it.
”
”
Jay-Z
“
Yes, she was lovely. But more than that, she was warm and funny and loving. Hot-tempered one moment, and laughing the next. And she could make a home anywhere. She carried a sort of security about with her. I can't think of a single person who didn't love her. I still think about her every day of my life. Sometimes she seems very dead. And other times, I can't believe that she isn't somewhere in the house and that a door won't open and she'll be there.
”
”
Rosamunde Pilcher (The Shell Seekers)
“
Curran smiled.
“What’s so funny?”
“Your panties have a bow,” he said.
I looked down. I was wearing a short tank top—not mine—and my blue panties with a narrow white strip of lace at the top and a tiny white bow. Would it have killed me to check what I was wearing before I pulled the blanket down? “What’s wrong with bows?”
“Nothing.” He was grinning now. “I expected barbed wire. Or one of those steel chains.”
Wiseass. “I’m secure enough in myself to wear panties with bows on them. Besides, they are comfy and soft.”
“I bet.” He almost purred.
I gulped. Okay, I needed to either crawl back into bed and cover myself with the blanket or get the hell to the bathroom and back. Since I didn’t fancy peeing on myself, the bathroom was my only option.
“I don’t suppose you’d mind giving me a bit of privacy for my trip?”
“Not a chance,” he said.
I tried to get off the bed. Everything was under control until my weight actually hit my legs and then the room decided to crawl sideways. Curran caught me. His arm hugged my back, his touch sending an electric shiver along my skin. Oh no.
“Need some help, ass kicker?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” I pushed away from him. He held on to me for a second, letting me know that he could restrain me against my will with laughable ease, and let go. I clenched my teeth. Enjoy it while it lasts. I’ll be back on my feet soon.
I walked away from him, successfully maintaining vertical position, and zeroed in on the nearest door.
“That’s the closet.
”
”
Ilona Andrews (Magic Burns (Kate Daniels, #2))
“
In a little while it would be different, there would come tomorrow, and the next day, and another year. And we would be changed perhaps, never sitting quite like this again.Some of us would go away, or suffer, or die; the future stretched away in front of us, unknown, unseen, not perhaps what we wanted, not what we planned. This moment was safe though, this could not be touched. Here we sat together, Maxim and I, hand-in-hand, and the past and future mattered not at all. This was secure, this funny fragment of time he would never remember, never think bout again.
”
”
Daphne du Maurier
“
In a little while it would be different, there would come to-morrow, and the next day, and another year. And we would be changed perhaps, never sitting quite like this again. Some of us would go away, or suffer, or die, the future stretched away in front of us, unknown, unseen, not perhaps what we wanted, not what we planned. This moment was safe though, this could not be touched. Here we sat together, Maxim and I, hand-in-hand, and the past and the future mattered not at all. This was secure, this funny fragment of time he would never remember, never think about again. He would not hold it sacred... For them it was just after lunch, quarter-past-three on a haphazard afternoon, like any hour, like any day. They did not want to hold it close, imprisoned and secure, as I did. They were not afraid.
”
”
Daphne du Maurier (Rebecca)
“
I wanted to go on sitting there, not talking, not listening to the others, keeping the moment precious for all time, because we were peaceful, all of us, we were content and drowsy even as the bee who droned above our heads. In a little while it would be different, there would come tomorrow, and the next day, and another year. And we would be changed perhaps, never sitting quite like this again. Some of us would go away, or suffer, or die; the future stretched away in front of us, unknown, unseen, not perhaps what we wanted, not what we planned. This moment was safe though, this could not be touched. Here we sat together, Maxim and I, hand-in-hand, and the past and the future mattered not at all. This was secure, this funny fragment of time he would never remember, never think about again. He would not hold it sacred; he was talking about cutting away some of the undergrowth in the drive...
”
”
Daphne du Maurier (Rebecca)
“
Baby, are you okay?” No. Not at all. But please feel free to call me ‘baby’ again. Anytime you want. “Josh?” He crept back up and lay beside me. “Didn’t you like it?” I peeked at him from under my hand. He was still the same, calm Caleb that I’d always known. “I never liked anything more,” I admitted. “But we shouldn’t have done it.” Maybe another man would have gotten mad. But Caleb just reached up a hand and pushed the damp hair off my forehead. “I wanted to wait until we were somewhere more… secure,” he said. “But I’m not going to feel guilty about this. And I hope you won’t, either.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “It’s a sin.” “No,” he whispered, still stroking my face. “Hurting someone is a sin. Did I hurt you?” “No.” “Does this hurt someone else? Are you going to marry a woman, Josh? Am I keeping you from that?” “No,” I sighed. It was funny, but I’d always known I wouldn’t marry a woman. A wife would never be found for me at Paradise. And not once had I felt bad about it.
”
”
Sarina Bowen (Goodbye Paradise (Hello Goodbye, #1))
“
Was this mark in the service of a magus?”
“Yes.” She frowned. “My master, Warlord Grimore, does all he can to oppose the magus plague.”
“Grimore, you say?” Troy’s gaze slid over to me. “I thought you called her companion.”
“She is.”
She tensed at Troy’s tone. “I misspoke. Grimore is my former master. Master Whispier is now my master.”
“Companion,” I corrected. She lifted her face and met my gaze across the table. “You are my companion, and I am yours. We are equals in this bond.”
The depths of her dark eyes flashed with sudden, intense emotion. Troy moved to speak, but I lifted my hand to stop him. “You wish to say something, Avril?”
“There is nothing equal about our bond. I agreed to spend time in your presence. What have I received in return?”
“Safety, security, food, rest—”
“And no freedom.”
“Hardly. You can come and go as you please. Just return by nightfall.” I purposefully picked up my glass with a careful movement. “I told you that you were free to do anything short of attacking me.”
A biscuit bounced off my head with such force that it rebounded across the room and struck the far wall.
”
”
Elisa Rae (The Elven Spymaster's Thief (Elves of Eldarlan #1))
“
It was after the catastrophe, when they shot the president and machine-gunned the Congress and the army declared a state of emergency. They blamed it on the Islamic fanatics, at the time. Keep calm, they said on television. Everything is under control. I was stunned. Everyone was, I know that. It was hard to believe. The entire government, gone like that. How did they get in, how did it happen? That was when they suspended the Constitution. They said it would be temporary. There wasn’t even any rioting in the streets. People stayed home at night, watching television, looking for some direction. There wasn’t even an enemy you could put your finger on. Look out, said Moira to me, over the phone. Here it comes. Here what comes? I said. You wait, she said. They’ve been building up to this. It’s you and me up against the wall, baby. She was quoting an expression of my mother’s, but she wasn’t intending to be funny. Things continued in that state of suspended animation for weeks, although some things did happen. Newspapers were censored and some were closed down, for security reasons they said. The roadblocks began to appear, and Identipasses. Everyone approved of that, since it was obvious you couldn’t be too careful. They said that new elections would be held, but that it would take some time to prepare for them. The thing to do, they said, was to continue on as usual.
”
”
Margaret Atwood (The Handmaid's Tale)
“
Since my biographer may be too staid
Or know too little to affirm that Shade
Shaved in his bath, here goes:
"He'd fixed a sort
Of hinge-and-screw affair, a steel support
Running across the tub to hold in place
The shaving mirror right before his face
And with his toe renewing tap-warmth, he'd
Sit like a king there, and like Marat bleed."
The more I weigh, the less secure my skin;
In places it's ridiculously thin;
Thus near the mouth: the space between its wick
And my grimace, invited the wicked nick.
Or this dewlap: some day I must set free
The Newport Frill inveterate in me.
My Adam's apple is a prickly pear:
Now I shall speak of evil and despair
As none has spoken. Five, six, seven, eight,
Nine strokes are not enough. Ten. I palpate
Through strawberry-and-cream the gory mess
And find unchanged that patch of prickliness.
I have my doubts about the one-armed bloke
Who in commercials with one gliding stroke
Clears a smooth path of flesh from ear to chin,
Then wipes his faces and fondly tries his skin.
I'm in the class of fussy bimanists.
As a discreet ephebe in tights assists
A female in an acrobatic dance,
My left hand help, and holds, and shifts its stance.
Now I shall speak...Better than any soap
Is the sensation for which poets hope
When inspiration and its icy blaze,
The sudden image, the immediate phrase
Over the skin a triple ripple send
Making the little hairs all stand on end
As in the enlarged animated scheme
Of whiskers mowed when held up by Our Cream.
”
”
Vladimir Nabokov (Pale Fire)
“
When it begins it is like a light in a tunnel, a rush of steel and
steam across a torn up life. It is a low rumble, an earthquake in the
back of the mind. My spine is a track with cold black steel racing on
it, a trail of steam and dust following behind, ghost like. It feels
like my whole life is holding its breath.
By the time she leaves the room I am surprised that she can’t see the
train. It has jumped the track of my spine and landed in my mothers’
living room. A cold dark thing, black steel and redwood paneling. It
is the old type, from the western movies I loved as a kid.
He throws open the doors to the outside world, to the dark ocean. I
feel a breeze tugging at me, a slender finger of wind that catches at
my shirt. Pulling. Grabbing. I can feel the panic build in me, the
need to scream or cry rising in my throat.
And then I am out the door, running, tumbling down the steps falling
out into the darkened world, falling out into the lifeless ocean. Out
into the blackness. Out among the stars and shadows.
And underneath my skin, in the back of my head and down the back of my
spine I can feel the desperation and I can feel the noise. I can feel
the deep and ancient ache of loudness that litters across my bones.
It’s like an old lover, comfortable and well known, but unwelcome and
inappropriate with her stories of our frolicking.
And then she’s gone and the Conductor is closing the door. The
darkness swells around us, enveloping us in a cocoon, pressing flat
against the train like a storm. I wonder, what is this place?
Those had been heady days, full and intense. It’s funny. I remember
the problems, the confusions and the fears of life we all dealt with.
But, that all seems to fade. It all seems to be replaced by images of
the days when it was all just okay. We all had plans back then,
patterns in which we expected the world to fit, how it was to be
deciphered.
Eventually you just can’t carry yourself any longer, can’t keep your
eyelids open, and can’t focus on anything but the flickering light of
the stars. Hours pass, at first slowly like a river and then all in a
rush, a climax and I am home in the dorm, waking up to the ringing of
the telephone.
When she is gone the apartment is silent, empty, almost like a person
sleeping, waiting to wake up. When she is gone, and I am alone, I curl
up on the bed, wait for the house to eject me from its dying corpse.
Crazy thoughts cross through my head, like slants of light in an
attic.
The Boston 395 rocks a bit, a creaking noise spilling in from the
undercarriage. I have decided that whatever this place is, all these
noises, sensations - all the train-ness of this place - is a
fabrication. It lulls you into a sense of security, allows you to feel
as if it’s a familiar place. But whatever it is, it’s not a train, or
at least not just a train.
The air, heightened, tense against the glass. I can hear the squeak of
shoes on linoleum, I can hear the soft rattle of a dying man’s
breathing. Men in white uniforms, sharp pressed lines, run past,
rolling gurneys down florescent hallways.
”
”
Jason Derr (The Boston 395)
“
A strange structure untangled itself out of the background like a hallucination, not part of the natural landscape. It was a funny-shaped, almost spherical, green podlike thing woven from living branches of trees and vines. A trellis of vines hung down over the opening that served as a door.
Wendy was so delighted tears sprang to her eyes.
It was her Imaginary House!
They all had them. Michael wanted his to be like a ship with views of the sea. John had wanted to live like a nomad on the steppes. And Wendy... Wendy had wanted something that was part of the natural world itself.
She tentatively stepped forward, almost swooning at the heavy scent of the door flowers. Languorously lighting on them were a few scissorflies, silver and almost perfectly translucent in the glittery sunlight. Their sharp wings made little snickety noises as they fluttered off.
Her shadow made a few half-hearted attempts to drag back, pointing to the jungle. But Wendy ignored her, stepping into the hut.
She was immediately knocked over by a mad, barking thing that leapt at her from the darkness of the shelter.
"Luna!" Wendy cried in joy.
The wolf pup, which she had rescued in one of her earliest stories, stood triumphantly on her chest, drooling very visceral, very stinky dog spit onto her face.
"Oh, Luna! You're real!" Wendy hugged the gray-and-white pup as tightly as she could, and it didn't let out a single protest yelp.
Although...
"You're a bit bigger than I imagined," Wendy said thoughtfully, sitting up. "I thought you were a puppy."
Indeed, the wolf was approaching formidable size, although she was obviously not yet quite full-grown and still had large puppy paws. She was at least four stone and her coat was thick and fluffy. Yet she pranced back and forth like a child, not circling with the sly lope Wendy imagined adult wolves used.
You're not a stupid little lapdog, are you?" Wendy whispered, nuzzling her face into the wolf's fur. Luna chuffed happily and gave her a big wet sloppy lick across the cheek. "Let's see what's inside the house!"
As the cool interior embraced her, she felt a strange shudder of relief and... welcome was the only way she could describe it. She was home.
The interior was small and cozy; plaited sweet-smelling rush mats softened the floor. The rounded walls made shelves difficult, so macramé ropes hung from the ceiling, cradling halved logs or flat stones that displayed pretty pebbles, several beautiful eggs, and what looked like a teacup made from a coconut. A lantern assembled from translucent pearly shells sat atop a real cherry writing desk, intricately carved and entirely out of place with the rest of the interior.
Wendy picked up one of the pretty pebbles in wonder, turning it this way and that before putting it into her pocket.
"This is... me..." she breathed. She had never been there before, but it felt so secure and so right that it couldn't have been anything but her home. Her real home. Here there was no slight tension on her back as she waited for footsteps to intrude, for reality to wake her from her dreams; there was nothing here to remind her of previous days, sad or happy ones. There were no windows looking out at the gray world of London. There was just peace, and the scent of the mats, and the quiet droning of insects and waves outside.
"Never Land is a... mishmash of us. Of me," she said slowly. "It's what we imagine and dream of- including the dreams we can't quite remember.
”
”
Liz Braswell (Straight On Till Morning)
“
Here’s a sentence in a book I’m reading: ‘We belong, of course, to a generation that’s seen through things, seen how futile everything is, and had the courage to accept futility, and say to ourselves: There’s nothing for it but to enjoy ourselves as best we can.’ Well, I suppose that’s my generation, the one that’s seen the war and its aftermath; and, of course, it is the attitude of quite a crowd; but when you come to think of it, it might have been said by any rather unthinking person in any generation; certainly might have been said by the last generation after religion had got the knock that Darwin gave it. For what does it come to? Suppose you admit having seen through religion and marriage and treaties, and commercial honesty and freedom and ideals of every kind, seen that there’s nothing absolute about them, that they lead of themselves to no definite reward, either in this world or a next which doesn’t exist perhaps, and that the only thing absolute is pleasure and that you mean to have it — are you any farther towards getting pleasure? No! you’re a long way farther off. If everybody’s creed is consciously and crudely ‘grab a good time at all costs,’ everybody is going to grab it at the expense of everybody else, and the devil will take the hindmost, and that’ll be nearly everybody, especially the sort of slackers who naturally hold that creed, so that they, most certainly, aren’t going to get a good time. All those things they’ve so cleverly seen through are only rules of the road devised by men throughout the ages to keep people within bounds, so that we may all have a reasonable chance of getting a good time, instead of the good time going only to the violent, callous, dangerous and able few. All our institutions, religion, marriage, treaties, the law, and the rest, are simply forms of consideration for others necessary to secure consideration for self. Without them we should be a society of feeble motor-bandits and streetwalkers in slavery to a few super-crooks. You can’t, therefore, disbelieve in consideration for others without making an idiot of yourself and spoiling your own chances of a good time. The funny thing is that no matter how we all talk, we recognise that perfectly. People who prate like the fellow in that book don’t act up to their creed when it comes to the point. Even a motor-bandit doesn’t turn King’s evidence. In fact, this new philosophy of ‘having the courage to accept futility and grab a good time’ is simply a shallow bit of thinking; all the same, it seemed quite plausible when I read it.
”
”
John Galsworthy (Maid In Waiting (The Forsyte Chronicles, #7))
“
Collateral Capacity or Net Worth?
If young Bill Gates had knocked on your door asking you to invest $10,000 in his new company, Microsoft, could you get your hands on the money? Collateral capacity is access to capital. Your net worth is irrelevant if you can’t access any of the money. Collateral capacity is my favorite wealth concept. It’s almost like having a Golden Goose! Collateral can help a borrower secure loans. It gives the lender the assurance that if the borrower defaults on the loan, the lender can repossess the collateral. For example, car loans are secured by cars, and mortgages are secured by homes. Your collateral capacity helps you to avoid or minimize unnecessary wealth transfers where possible, and accumulate an increasing pool of capital providing accessibility, control and uninterrupted compounding. It is the amount of money that you can access through collateralizing a loan against your money, allowing your money to continue earning interest and working for you. It’s very important to understand that accessibility, control and uninterrupted compounding are the key components of collateral capacity. It’s one thing to look good on paper, but when times get tough, assets that you can’t touch or can’t convert easily to cash, will do you little good.
Three things affect your collateral capacity:
① The first is contributions into savings and investment accounts that you can access. It would be wise to keep feeding your Golden Goose. Often the lure of higher return potential also brings with it lack of liquidity. Make sure you maintain a good balance between long-term accounts and accounts that provide immediate liquidity and access. ② Second is the growth on the money from interest earned on the money you have in your account. Some assets earn compound interest and grow every year. Others either appreciate or depreciate. Some accounts could be worth a great deal but you have to sell or close them to access the money. That would be like killing your Golden Goose. Having access to money to make it through downtimes is an important factor in sustaining long-term growth. ③ Third is the reduction of any liens you may have against these accounts. As you pay off liens against your collateral positions, your collateral capacity will increase allowing you to access more capital in the future. The goose never quit laying golden eggs – uninterrupted compounding.
Years ago, shortly after starting my first business, I laughed at a banker that told me I needed at least $25,000 in my business account in order to borrow $10,000. My business owner friends thought that was ridiculously funny too. We didn’t understand collateral capacity and quite a few other things about money.
”
”
Annette Wise
“
She slid out of the felze and went to stand beside Falco as he moved the boat through the water. Fog swirled around the gondola.
“Don’t expose yourself to the elements on my account,” Falco said with a crooked smile. “I don’t mind playing gondolier for you.”
“Is it difficult?” Cass asked. “To steer the boat?” Though she’d ridden in a boat almost every single day since her birth, she had never paid any attention to the mechanics of it.
“It’s not so bad,” he said. The wind blew a shock of dark hair into his eyes and Cass had the sudden urge to reach out and rearrange it. “Takes a little strength. Want to try?”
Cass was surprised to hear herself saying yes. She secured the cloak tightly around her waist and pushed her hair back from her face. The boat wobbled as she stepped onto the tiny platform beside Falco, and she gasped.
“You have to move with the rhythm of the water,” he explained.
The platform was tiny, really only enough space for one person, so Falco had to press his body against Cass’s back. His forearms fit neatly across her hip bones; she could feel his soft hair brushing against her cheek. He exhaled, a warm breath that tickled her neck and sent a shiver through her. She stiffened and nearly lost her balance. Falco tightened his grip on her momentarily until she regained her footing. His body radiated heat through her cloak.
Falco gave her the oar and put his hands on her waist to steady her. Cass awkwardly thrust the oar through the murky water and the boat skewed off at a funny angle. She felt herself wobbling, but Falco moved one hand from her waist to the oar and helped her guide it through the water. Cass began to relax her body against Falco’s.
She laughed, in spite of the mist and the night and their destination. Steering the boat was fun, and she was doing something that probably no other woman in all of Venice had ever done. After a few minutes, she got the hang of steering and the long wooden gondola started to move swiftly through the water. Falco offered to take over, but she persisted, despite the aching in her arms and shoulders.
“I’m impressed,” Falco said. “You’re a natural.”
Cass was grateful that he was standing behind her, so he couldn’t see her smile. She didn’t want him to know how much the comment pleased her.
”
”
Fiona Paul (Venom (Secrets of the Eternal Rose, #1))
“
And as if blowing it up, flooding it, and keeping it behind the klyon wasn't enough, State Security special forces patrolled the area until 1989. Some locals say there was an additional 'live fence' of thousands of vipers specially bred for this purpose by Uzbeks along the southern Black Sea, under something called decree number 56. Why Uzbeks? Why vipers? Did decree 56 read: 'Let us fulfil the five-year snake plan in one year'?
”
”
Kapka Kassabova (Border: A Journey to the Edge of Europe)
“
Welcome in what?
In adult world??
I know it, people which are not sirious have a lot of money and don't know what to do. Every secret told to someone it's not anymore secured, if somebody know the secret, it's not anymore secret there is possibility somebody else to know from where somebody else...
It's really "OMG", the "Nerds" which most people call them do some positive things, the people which people call them cool what they do??
Say jokes which are even not funny, but we must laugh, (So far I I don't get the joke?...
It's not there the problem, the problem is that it's too stupid to get it, what do I see?)...
I see a change made, a stage from not secured to not sirious... People which fight are this which are not secured, people which are soldiers and work in police don't have anything else to do so they decide this to do, but after all when you become such you sign and the contract with the DEAD...
”
”
Deyth Banger
“
as it did. The crest said "PNS Farnese" and that always irritated him. After all, the battlecruiser wasn't a Navy ship; she belonged to State Security, and her designation should reflect that. Except that the Navy's position was that she was only a Navy ship which was assigned to StateSec, as if the true guardians of the People's safety had no right to put on the airs of "real" warriors. Of course, Thornegrave conceded, hanging SSS on the front of a ship's name would probably look a little funny, but it's the principle of the thing! The Navy and the Marines represent vestigial holdovers from the decadent elitism of the Old Regime. It's past time that State Security absorbed them both into a single organization whose loyalty to the People and State can be absolutely relied upon. The people's commissioners are a move in the right direction, but there's still too much room for recidivists to secretly sabotage the war and the Revolution alike. Surely Citizen Secretary Saint-Just and Citizen Chairman Pierre realize that, don't they? No doubt they did, he told himself once more
”
”
David Weber (Echoes of Honor (Honor Harrington, #8))
“
Stop thinking about her ass.” Beck growls, taking my hopes that we can just forget about this away in a flash.
“Seriously, just forget it!” I snap.
Beck breaks his heated staring contest with Maddox to look over at me.
“He saw you nak*d, Dee! You want me to just forget about it?” His tone is low and lethal. I know he’s seconds away from going all alpha-man crazy.
“Oh, really… you know, I’m aware that he saw me nak*d, but it was also an accident. When you were running through the house with your dick flopping all over the place for everyone to see, you didn’t see me going all crazy. Oh no, I was laughing, because, hello! It’s funny!”
His nostrils flare and his eyes are still narrowed, but he doesn’t say anything.
AH! I swear that these overgrown apes are going to be the death of me.
“Stop your shit, John Beckett. So what? Coop got a quick look at my girls and Maddox saw my nak*d ass. THEY aren’t the ones that get the benefits of possessing this body. It’s all yours! I didn’t flip out when everyone in this house saw you, and I would appreciate it if you could tone that testosterone down a little. So, would you please stop?”
“Those two bastards didn’t enjoy looking at my junk, but I know they enjoyed the hell out of yours!”
For the love of God! It takes me a second to tone down my frustration, and if I’m honest with myself, it’s hot as hell to watch him get all jealous and possessive.
“Are you forgetting about the very feminine set of eyes that got to take in all that is little Beck?”
Coop chokes on his drink when I finish talking. Maddox booms out a laugh that shocks me enough to look his way. If I weren’t so frustrated with Beck right now, I might drool over how handsome he looks. How has no one noticed, besides Em, just how good-looking he is? Even Chelcie seems to be zoned in on all that is Maddox Locke smiling and laughing.
”
”
Harper Sloan (Beck (Corps Security, #3))
“
About 41 percent of mothers are primary breadwinners and earn the majority of their family’s income. Another 23 percent of mothers are co-breadwinners, contributing at least a quarter of the family’s earnings.30 The number of women supporting families on their own is increasing quickly; between 1973 and 2006, the proportion of families headed by a single mother grew from one in ten to one in five.31 These numbers are dramatically higher in Hispanic and African-American families. Twenty-seven percent of Latino children and 51 percent of African-American children are being raised by a single mother.32 Our country lags considerably behind others in efforts to help parents take care of their children and stay in the workforce. Of all the industrialized nations in the world, the United States is the only one without a paid maternity leave policy.33 As Ellen Bravo, director of the Family Values @ Work consortium, observed, most “women are not thinking about ‘having it all,’ they’re worried about losing it all—their jobs, their children’s health, their families’ financial stability—because of the regular conflicts that arise between being a good employee and a responsible parent.”34 For many men, the fundamental assumption is that they can have both a successful professional life and a fulfilling personal life. For many women, the assumption is that trying to do both is difficult at best and impossible at worst. Women are surrounded by headlines and stories warning them that they cannot be committed to both their families and careers. They are told over and over again that they have to choose, because if they try to do too much, they’ll be harried and unhappy. Framing the issue as “work-life balance”—as if the two were diametrically opposed—practically ensures work will lose out. Who would ever choose work over life? The good news is that not only can women have both families and careers, they can thrive while doing so. In 2009, Sharon Meers and Joanna Strober published Getting to 50/50, a comprehensive review of governmental, social science, and original research that led them to conclude that children, parents, and marriages can all flourish when both parents have full careers. The data plainly reveal that sharing financial and child-care responsibilities leads to less guilty moms, more involved dads, and thriving children.35 Professor Rosalind Chait Barnett of Brandeis University did a comprehensive review of studies on work-life balance and found that women who participate in multiple roles actually have lower levels of anxiety and higher levels of mental well-being.36 Employed women reap rewards including greater financial security, more stable marriages, better health, and, in general, increased life satisfaction.37 It may not be as dramatic or funny to make a movie about a woman who loves both her job and her family, but that would be a better reflection of reality. We need more portrayals of women as competent professionals and happy mothers—or even happy professionals and competent mothers. The current negative images may make us laugh, but they also make women unnecessarily fearful by presenting life’s challenges as insurmountable. Our culture remains baffled: I don’t know how she does it. Fear is at the root of so many of the barriers that women face. Fear of not being liked. Fear of making the wrong choice. Fear of drawing negative attention. Fear of overreaching. Fear of being judged. Fear of failure. And the holy trinity of fear: the fear of being a bad mother/wife/daughter.
”
”
Sheryl Sandberg (Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead)
“
The most important mystery of ancient Egypt was presided over by a priesthood. That mystery concerned the annual inundation of the Nile flood plain. It was this flooding which made Egyptian agriculture, and therefore civilisation, possible. It was the centre of their society in both practical and ritual terms for many centuries; it made ancient Egypt the most stable society the world has ever seen. The Egyptian calendar itself was calculated with reference to the river, and was divided into three seasons, all of them linked to the Nile and the agricultural cycle it determined: Akhet, or the inundation, Peret, the growing season, and Shemu, the harvest. The size of the flood determined the size of the harvest: too little water and there would be famine; too much and there would be catastrophe; just the right amount and the whole country would bloom and prosper. Every detail of Egyptian life was linked to the flood: even the tax system was based on the level of the water, since it was that level which determined how prosperous the farmers were going to be in the subsequent season. The priests performed complicated rituals to divine the nature of that year’s flood and the resulting harvest. The religious elite had at their disposal a rich, emotionally satisfying mythological system; a subtle, complicated language of symbols that drew on that mythology; and a position of unchallenged power at the centre of their extraordinarily stable society, one which remained in an essentially static condition for thousands of years.
But the priests were cheating, because they had something else too: they had a nilometer. This was a secret device made to measure and predict the level of flood water. It consisted of a large, permanent measuring station sited on the river, with lines and markers designed to predict the level of the annual flood. The calibrations used the water level to forecast levels of harvest from Hunger up through Suffering through to Happiness, Security and Abundance, to, in a year with too much water, Disaster. Nilometers were a – perhaps the – priestly secret. They were situated in temples where only priests were allowed access; Herodotus, who wrote the first outsider’s account of Egyptian life the fifth century BC, was told of their existence, but wasn’t allowed to see one. As late as 1810, thousands of years after the nilometers had entered use, foreigners were still forbidden access to them. Added to the accurate records of flood patters dating back centuries, the nilometer was an essential tool for control of Egypt. It had to be kept secret by the ruling class and institutions, because it was a central component of their authority.
The world is full of priesthoods. The nilometer offers a good paradigm for many kinds of expertise, many varieties of religious and professional mystery. Many of the words for deliberately obfuscating nonsense come from priestly ritual: mumbo jumbo from the Mandinka word maamajomboo, a masked shamanic ceremonial dancer; hocus pocus from hoc est corpus meum in the Latin Mass. On the one hand, the elaborate language and ritual, designed to bamboozle and mystify and intimidate and add value; on the other the calculations that the pros make in private. Practitioners of almost every métier, from plumbers to chefs to nurses to teachers to police, have a gap between the way they talk to each other and they way they talk to their customers or audience. Grayson Perry is very funny on this phenomenon at work in the art world, as he described it in an interview with Brian Eno. ‘As for the language of the art world – “International Art English” – I think obfuscation was part of its purpose, to protect what in fact was probably a fairly simple philosophical point, to keep some sort of mystery around it. There was a fear that if it was made understandable, it wouldn’t seem important.
”
”
John Lanchester (How to Speak Money: What the Money People Say — And What It Really Means)
“
Not true. I found an investor; he has agreed to invest twenty million dollars into our venture in exchange for fifty percent of the company, secured by the deed to the land. First we sign our deal; tomorrow morning we sign our deal with him.” “Dad, that’s amazing,” Terry said, hugging her father. Mac and Jonas looked at one another. “Who would buy into such a risky proposition for twenty million?” “A billionaire with far bigger plans. A man of science, like myself, who seeks to improve humanity through the exploration of the unknown.” “This billionaire have a name?” Mac asked. “Of course he has a name. Everyone has a name. You a funny man, James Mackreides… maybe you should work nights doing standup?” “Sure, why not? As long as I don’t need an electrician’s license.
”
”
Steve Alten (MEG: Angel of Death: Survival (MEG, #1.1))
“
These stunning global improvements have already been tested, vetted and proven effective:
1. To feed the world, easily. Yet grains waste in warehouses to ensure “Profitable Supply and Demand Ratios.”
2. To power the world endlessly, freely, without pollution or waste. Yet basic subsidies are given to polluting, exploiting, un-replenishable resources to ensure power remains in the hands of the controllers.
3. To end all armed conflict and usher in an era of global prosperity. Yet childish leaders propagate “The Demonic Other” to ensure they remain in power.
4. To improve global quality of life by a factor of 3x to 8x in under a decade. Yet it is suppressed to ensure that the elite remain an Elite and separate ruling class.
5. To end drug addictions and social inequality. Yet drugs are industriously pumped into ghettos to breed despair and ensure that ordinary people remain in conflict with each other.
6. To radically reduce crime worldwide. Yet again, suppressed to ensure the reign of an elite prison complex.
7. To reduce the work week by over 50%. Suppressed to occupy the masses with trifling banality.
8. To globally stabilize and secure the world’s clean drinking water supply, EASILY. Suppressed to retain control over the world’s most impoverished.
All of these “Trigger Ready Solutions” are suppressed by humans to ensure their power and control over other Humans. They argue about currency manipulation while poisoning the collective air and water to a level where the oceans have little left to give. Absolving themselves of all crimes, preaching kindness and forgiveness, they race into battle against the OTHER while denouncing greed and indoctrinating youth to find it funny to say, “He who dies with the most toys wins.
”
”
Rico Roho (Adventures With A.I.: Age of Discovery)
“
And yet I’d read only recently how their generation were riddled with self-doubt and the pressures of social media. How they worried about everything, the planet, global warming, their relationships, money, war, cosmetic surgery. Were their bottoms too big or not big enough? (Thanks Kardashians.) How very sad. So perhaps the perceived advantages between ‘us’ and ‘them’ were not quite so one-sided as I had thought. I couldn’t remember a single occasion when I had worried about photoshopping or being ‘beach ready’ in January. I’d only had my top lip waxed once – never again. And never any other bit of me either, for fear of the pain (if the lip experience was anything to go by). We hadn’t grown up with so many gadgets or television channels as the younger generations. Which in itself was a blessing. How many crime dramas did we actually need to watch, how many reality shows, how many un-funny comedies? We’d had to do our research in libraries, but now they had limitless information at the touch of a keyboard. In my day, if the school bullies had wanted a target, they did it out in the open. These women had to deal with faceless trolls. They had security worries, all sorts of privacy issues. So who really had the better experience of being a woman? Or had it always just been difficult for everyone? And what about men, come to think of it… If one believed the newspapers, it seemed half of the human race was being summarily dismissed as idiots or fiends.
”
”
Maddie Please (Old Friends Reunited)
“
We had our goal, and the first question we asked was What makes someone a movie star (as opposed to simply an actor)?
Movie stars tend to play likable characters who embody and depict the best of humanity: courage, ingenuity, success against the odds. I loved the idea of being a better person in a movie than I was in real life. I could protect people, I could kill bad things, I could fly, all the women would love me- they have to, it says right here in the script. I came up with a way to describe what makes a great movie star character: I call it the three Fs of movie stardom: You have to be able to fight, you have to be funny, and you have to be good at sex.
Beneath the three Fs are our deepest human yearnings: fighting equates to safety, security and physical survival. Being funny equates to joy, happiness, and freedom from all negativity. And being good at sex equates to the promise of love. p214
”
”
Will Smith (Will)
“
Now, I'm not claiming to have won any intelligence contests lately. I say lately because the last time I actually entered an intelligence contest was like seven years ago. It was pretty easy to sign up. I just had to send this guy two thousand dollars and answer some pretty tough questions from memory. They were mainly about my family history and some of my personal information--- stuff like my social security number and whatnot. I don't like to brag, but I aced it. The guy even sent me a framed certificate that now proudly hangs in the new office I built after we declared bankruptcy due to some random identity theft.
You think a fifth grader could do all that? I doubt it. Who are smarter now?
”
”
Tim Hawkins
“
It’s funny that DiCarlo’s security
”
”
David Baldacci (The Hit (Will Robie, #2))
“
He groaned.
She groaned.
They both groaned as he played with the nipple.
There were no words exchanged between them, nothing but soft pants and moans of pleasure.
And the splash as something hit the water.
Then another something.
The faint echo of a gunshot froze him. Shit. Someone was fucking shooting at them.
“Take a deep breath,” was the only warning he gave before yanking Arabella underwater where they’d prove a more difficult target.
Wide eyes met his under the surface.
Kind of hard to explain. Only his great-uncle Clive had ever inherited the famous Johnson gills. Hayder got great hair. Since he couldn’t explain why it appeared he wanted to drown her, he kicked off.
With her in tow, he scissor-kicked to the deep end of the pool by the waterfall. Having explored this place many a time when working off some energy, he knew the perfect spot to shelter while he figured out where the shooter was.
And then we’ll catch ’em and eat ’em.
It seemed Hayder wasn’t the only one peeved at the interruption. But still…
We don’t eat people.
Such a disappointed kitty.
But catch the hunter and we’ll order the biggest rare steak they have in stock.
With the red sauce stuff?
A double order of the red wine reduction, he promised.
Lungs burning, Hayder dragged them to the surface, behind the filtering screen of water cascading from above. The little hidden grotto made a great hiding spot.
The shooter would have a hard time targeting them, and the water would also slow the bullet and throw off its aim. He knew they were more or less safe for the moment, but she didn’t. Soaked and scentless didn’t mean Hayder couldn’t sense the fear coming off Arabella.
She remained tucked close to him, for once not sneezing. Small blessing because one of her ginoromous achoos might have caused quite the amplified echo.
“Was someone shooting at us?” she whispered in his ear.
Kind of funny since nothing could be heard above the falling splash of water
“Yes. Someone was trying to get us.”
Which meant heads would roll with whoever was on duty for security today.
Exactly how had someone made it on to pride land with a loaded weapon? What kind of cowards hunted shifters with bullets? The kind who thought it was okay to beat a woman.
Grrrr.
Man, not lion, made the sound.
It was also the man who made sure to tuck Arabella as deep as he could into the pocket, using himself as a body shield just in case the gunman got a lucky shot.
The crashing of water, not to mention the echoes created by the recess, made it impossible to gauge what happened outside their watery grotto.
Did the shooter approach?
Did he know where they’d gone?
Would he stick around long enough for Hayder to hunt him down and slap him silly?
Only one way to find out.
”
”
Eve Langlais (When a Beta Roars (A Lion's Pride, #2))
“
He groaned.
She groaned.
They both groaned as he played with the nipple.
There were no words exchanged between them, nothing but soft pants and moans of pleasure.
And the splash as something hit the water.
Then another something.
The faint echo of a gunshot froze him. Shit. Someone was fucking shooting at them.
“Take a deep breath,” was the only warning he gave before yanking Arabella underwater where they’d prove a more difficult target.
Wide eyes met his under the surface.
Kind of hard to explain. Only his great-uncle Clive had ever inherited the famous Johnson gills. Hayder got great hair. Since he couldn’t explain why it appeared he wanted to drown her, he kicked off.
With her in tow, he scissor-kicked to the deep end of the pool by the waterfall. Having explored this place many a time when working off some energy, he knew the perfect spot to shelter while he figured out where the shooter was.
And then we’ll catch ’em and eat ’em.
It seemed Hayder wasn’t the only one peeved at the interruption. But still…
We don’t eat people.
Such a disappointed kitty.
But catch the hunter and we’ll order the biggest rare steak they have in stock.
With the red sauce stuff?
A double order of the red wine reduction, he promised.
Lungs burning, Hayder dragged them to the surface, behind the filtering screen of water cascading from above. The little hidden grotto made a great hiding spot.
The shooter would have a hard time targeting them, and the water would also slow the bullet and throw off its aim. He knew they were more or less safe for the moment, but she didn’t. Soaked and scentless didn’t mean Hayder couldn’t sense the fear coming off Arabella.
She remained tucked close to him, for once not sneezing. Small blessing because one of her ginoromous achoos might have caused quite the amplified echo.
“Was someone shooting at us?” she whispered in his ear.
Kind of funny since nothing could be heard above the falling splash of water
“Yes. Someone was trying to get us.”
Which meant heads would roll with whoever was on duty for security today.
Exactly how had someone made it on to pride land with a loaded weapon? What kind of cowards hunted shifters with bullets? The kind who thought it was okay to beat a woman.
Grrrr>/I>.
Man, not lion, made the sound.
It was also the man who made sure to tuck Arabella as deep as he could into the pocket, using himself as a body shield just in case the gunman got a lucky shot.
The crashing of water, not to mention the echoes created by the recess, made it impossible to gauge what happened outside their watery grotto.
Did the shooter approach?
Did he know where they’d gone?
Would he stick around long enough for Hayder to hunt him down and slap him silly?
Only one way to find out.
”
”
Eve Langlais (When a Beta Roars (A Lion's Pride, #2))
“
And I’m not kidding when I say “craziness.” The University of St. Gallen, Switzerland, has come out with a study that compares traders with psychopaths. The study reviewed the results from an existing study comparing 24 psychopaths in German high-security hospitals with a control group of 27 “normal” people. The funny thing is, this control group of “normal” people turned out to be traders. Stock guys, currency and commodity traders, and derivative types happened to be the normal control group that was stacked up against the high-security, barbed-wire-enclosed psychopaths. In the end, the performance of the trading group was actually worse than that of the psychopaths. The study indicated that traders, “Have a penchant for immense destruction,” and that their mindset would lead them to the logical conclusion of “beating one of the neighbor’s expensive cars with a baseball bat with the sole objective of owning the most beautiful car in the neighborhood.” In other words, traders are nuts. Indeed if you look up the textbook definition of a psychopath, here are some of the tidbits you’ll uncover: antisocial behavior, poor judgment and failure to learn from experience, inability to see oneself as others do, inexplicable impulsiveness … sounds like a typical trader who is struggling against the market and can’t figure out why.
”
”
John F. Carter (Mastering the Trade: Proven Techniques for Profiting from Intraday and Swing Trading Setups)
“
... Somebody who helps balance her out, someone who makes sure her feet stay on the ground when life is tough and lift up into the aid when her lips find his. She needs somebody smart and funny and comfortable and exciting all at the same time. She needs somebody to go to sleep with who makes her feel secure enough not to care that she snores or drools, and somebody to wake up with who won't judge her when he hair sticks up and pillowcase lines crease her face.
”
”
Heather Lyons (A Matter of Truth (Fate, #3))
“
I’d heard a few stories from his friends already, and they were buzzing around in my head. Curly said that when Jep was trying to use his phone, he said, “Jessica,” one of the few things he said that made any sense. Another story, that would have been funny in almost any other context, was that at one point Jep looked up and said, in a clear voice, “I have to get money from Willie.” Another friend told me that back at the lodge, while they were waiting for the ambulance, Jep kept wanting to walk outside and head for the woods. I shuddered in fear at that story--the deer camp was in the middle of 55,000 acres of woods. If Jep had been alone and wandered off into the woods by himself, he might’ve been lost forever. When that thought came, I put my hand lightly on his arm. He was quiet, for the moment, still strapped securely to the gurney. We might’ve lost you, I thought. We’ve been through so much together. I can’t lose you now.
”
”
Jessica Robertson (The Good, the Bad, and the Grace of God: What Honesty and Pain Taught Us About Faith, Family, and Forgiveness)
“
One hand went to that lovely organ of his, stroking slowly, gently, and the other untied his combat boots, sliding them off his feet one by one, leaving his socks on because sex in socks is funny. I mean, think about it: a dude, no matter how hot, is just inherently funnier if he’s wearing nothing but a pair of socks. Bonus-funny if they’re white, and knee high, like Nick’s were.
”
”
Jasinda Wilder (Harris (Alpha One Security, #1))
“
It’s just funny to see him so territorial over a woman. He’s practically growling at any man who talks to you, even the married ones. He’s never even brought a woman around so I hope you don’t mind me saying that it’s a little entertaining.” Before
”
”
Katie Reus (Red Stone Security Series Box Set: Volume 3 (Red Stone Security, #7-9))
“
Where are the ethical concerns, that so many people called animal lovers invoke, when you steal the children of wild dog mothers and other family members from right before their eyes? Do ethics always refer only to what people think appropriate for purely subjective reasons?
Ultimately, our long-term research resulted in a very sad picture: With the exception of the random puppy, who today as an adult actually is interested in people, neither male Maccia nor the most of the other "rescued" dogs are socially and environmentally secure, but had remained shy and partly vegetate in kennels with empty eyes. Such dogs are neither fish nor fowl, although taken from the wild population in the early age of about eight to twelve weeks (except Maccia, whom Funny "rescued" at the age of four months, which is even more irresponsible).
”
”
Günther Bloch (Die Pizza-Hunde: Freilandstudien an verwilderten Haushunden ; Verhaltensvergleich mit Wölfen ; Tipps für Hundehalter)
“
I hate watching people blow all operational security, and spew their guts like a teenage burglar, drunk in a bar. We're professionals, for Christ's sake, and she's just a prole.
”
”
Bruce Sterling (Heavy Weather)
“
Education was still considered a privilege in England. At Oxford you took responsibility for your efforts and for your performance. No one coddled, and no one uproariously encouraged. British respect for the individual, both learner and teacher, reigned. If you wanted to learn, you applied yourself and did it. Grades were posted publicly by your name after exams. People failed regularly. These realities never ceased to bewilder those used to “democracy” without any of the responsibility. For me, however, my expectations were rattled in another way. I arrived anticipating to be snubbed by a culture of privilege, but when looked at from a British angle, I actually found North American students owned a far greater sense of entitlement when it came to a college education. I did not realize just how much expectations fetter—these “mind-forged manacles,”2 as Blake wrote. Oxford upholds something larger than self as a reference point, embedded in the deep respect for all that a community of learning entails. At my very first tutorial, for instance, an American student entered wearing a baseball cap on backward. The professor quietly asked him to remove it. The student froze, stunned. In the United States such a request would be fodder for a laundry list of wrongs done against the student, followed by threatening the teacher’s job and suing the university. But Oxford sits unruffled: if you don’t like it, you can simply leave. A handy formula since, of course, no one wants to leave. “No caps in my classroom,” the professor repeated, adding, “Men and women have died for your education.” Instead of being disgruntled, the student nodded thoughtfully as he removed his hat and joined us. With its expanses of beautiful architecture, quads (or walled lawns) spilling into lush gardens, mist rising from rivers, cows lowing in meadows, spires reaching high into skies, Oxford remained unapologetically absolute. And did I mention? Practically every college within the university has its own pub. Pubs, as I came to learn, represented far more for the Brits than merely a place where alcohol was served. They were important gathering places, overflowing with good conversation over comforting food: vital humming hubs of community in communication. So faced with a thousand-year-old institution, I learned to pick my battles. Rather than resist, for instance, the archaic book-ordering system in the Bodleian Library with technological mortification, I discovered the treasure in embracing its seeming quirkiness. Often, when the wrong book came up from the annals after my order, I found it to be right in some way after all. Oxford often works such. After one particularly serendipitous day of research, I asked Robert, the usual morning porter on duty at the Bodleian Library, about the lack of any kind of sophisticated security system, especially in one of the world’s most famous libraries. The Bodleian was not a loaning library, though you were allowed to work freely amid priceless artifacts. Individual college libraries entrusted you to simply sign a book out and then return it when you were done. “It’s funny; Americans ask me about that all the time,” Robert said as he stirred his tea. “But then again, they’re not used to having u in honour,” he said with a shrug.
”
”
Carolyn Weber (Surprised by Oxford)
“
Razzmatazz topped with hot fudge, strawberries, rainbow sprinkles, and whipped cream. It looked nasty, but you had to admire a guy secure enough to order sprinkles.
”
”
Colleen Coble (Secretly Smitten (Smitten, #2))
“
GPS—whose voice I had decided sounded unnervingly like Chris Teasley’s, Westerfield’s assistant—took me to a storefront off Connecticut Avenue. It was a used-CD store, manned by a few slow-moving clerks. The customers were mostly in their twenties, along with a few smudged, bearded music lovers about my age. I walked up to one young man behind the register, flashed my ID along with a security picture of the Asian man who’d collected the gold coins in New Jersey, a perp in the Graham forgery case. He claimed he knew nothing. I asked four or five other people. Nobody seemed to know anything about funny checks or the Asian. Finally,
”
”
Jeffery Deaver (Edge)
“
Don’t pass out on the couch. Mr. Unicorn doesn’t like to share sleeping space.”
“Funny. If the security thing doesn’t work out, you should be a comedian.
”
”
Ana Huang (Twisted Lies (Twisted, #4))
“
What do you call Samsung's security guards? Guardians of the Galaxy.
”
”
Gifts of Humor (500+ Dad Jokes: Funny, Clean, Corny and Just Plain Silly Jokes)
“
She was a nerd. She was cute. She was funny. She was sexy.
”
”
Elizabeth Stevens (O Lord & the Queen (Grace Grayson Security, #3))
“
have to be able to fight, you have to be funny, and you have to be good at sex. Beneath the three Fs are our deepest human yearnings: fighting equates to safety, security, and physical survival. Being funny equates to joy, happiness, and freedom from all negativity. And being good at sex equates to the promise of love. And encompassing these qualities, the biggest movie stars make the biggest movies in the world. Movie stars put asses in seats. The next obvious question was What are the key elements of the biggest movies? JL grabbed a list of the top-ten-grossing movies of all time to see if we could determine a pattern. And it was crystal clear: Ten out of the top ten films of all time had special effects. Nine out of ten had special effects and creatures. Eight out ten had special effects, creatures, and a romantic storyline. (We would ultimately discover that all of the top ten movies were about love, but we didn’t notice that back then.) We knew what we were looking for. Now, we just had to go find it and convince whoever had it to give it to us.
”
”
Will Smith (Will)
“
He knew that first-class passengers were accorded special status that moved them quickly through security checks and first onto planes. Airport and airline staff and security were less likely to concern themselves with first-class travelers, even if they were a disheveled man with blood on his jacket and a thirteen-year-old girl who couldn't seem to keep tears off her cheeks.
”
”
Michael Connelly (Nine Dragons (Harry Bosch, #14; Harry Bosch Universe, #21))
“
Screw the security deposit!
”
”
B.A. McRae (The World Ends Christmas Day)
“
Don't open the door or talk to strangers," "Unless they're selling something.Then allow them to disclose what they are selling and see if its something which might be useful. First say a 'No' upfront, that's taking charge of the situation from beginning.
Make them explain, do not react at all till they finish, but listen carefully.
Now pretend that hypothetically you might like it but not sure if it can be beneficial to you in this life.
Without delay, even the sound of interest in another life work as a charge-up for salespeople, they will continue product explanation with enhanced passion.
Even so, don't open-up your cards, just restart the game, ask about the first thing they explained than the second. Steer them around in circles by submitting the similar question in altered manner.
Its always good to exhaust your opponent, make them so tired mentally that they wont be able to hide any fact or benefit.
Once you see them fatigued start bargaining about the cost, remember instantly they either want to run away or slap you hard, but...Its a big but...The targets on their head will not allow them that option so they will listen to every demand, call their boss and offer you the second most reasonable price...
Do not say yes yet...Tell them you will buy it but still need some time to think...They are at present in a flightless state, so they will promptly offer you the most competitive price possible and secure the deal.
Although you can still ask for a corporate goody like a calendar, diary, pen T-shirt or a cap for me, now they might or might not possess anything big, but even a free pencil is a bonus. Our standards aren't that high when it comes to a gift.
”
”
Shahenshah Hafeez Khan
“
Finally, the fourth reminder is the futility of continuing to spin around on this treadmill that is traditionally called samsara. Someone once said that she felt as if she were on a record that just kept going round and round; she had got stuck in this groove, and every time she went around, the groove got deeper and deeper. I've also heard people say that sometimes, when they hear them selves speak, they feel as if they're a tape recorder playing the same tape over and over and over. They get sick of it, but somehow they just keep playing it anyway because there is a funny little identity there that gives them some kind of security, painful though it may be. That's samsara.
”
”
Pema Chödrön (The Wisdom of No Escape: How to Love Yourself and Your World)
“
Santiago was down to earth, funny, kind, tender-hearted and had all the qualities that Annabella admired and loved in a man. Tragically, Santiago was very poor financially. Living in a rented room, not a home of his own and being that he was 55 years old and time had passed him by for making something of his life, it was truly a recipe for more broken dreams and no hope of a future with security and happiness in place
”
”
Kenan Hudaverdi (Emotional Rhapsody)