Shockwave Quotes

There are two kinds of fools. One says, "This is old, and therefore good." And one says, " This is new, and therefore better.

I'm myself, not a label.

Dorian strokes my exposed back with the tips of his fingers, sending shockwaves up and down my spine. I gasp from the contact, resisting the urge to beg him for more. He brings his face down to my neck, letting his lips brush my earlobe. “Gabriella, I would love to bend you over this desk right now and pull your dress up past your thighs and over your ass,” he murmurs, sex dripping from his soft lips. “That sounds good to me,” I breathe, turning my head a fraction. “What’s stopping you?” Never in my life have I been this bold and eager with a man but Dorian has awakened the sleeping sex giant within me. If my days are numbered, I want to at least die happy. “Oh, I would do it. But I know Aurora will come looking for me and I don’t want to be disturbed when I… ruin you.” Ruin me? It sounds so threatening and violent. I love it.

If there is such a phenomenon as absolute evil, it consists in treating another human being as a thing.

After all, the rich get richer and the poor get children. Which is okay so long as lots of them starve in infancy.

Damn right I voted for him. But if I’d known then what I know now, I wouldn't have cast a vote—I’d have cast a brick.

intelligence and wisdom aren’t the same.

Having one eye makes you see the world in unusual ways, Shockwave..." -Overlord

It’s less about survival, more about who you’re holding when that big irradiated shockwave blows you to ash.

Toffler’s Law, I guess: the future arrives too soon and in the wrong order.

In an age when we have more choice than ever before, more mobility, more information, more opportunity to fulfill ourselves, how is it that people can prefer to be identical?

It’s the beginning of wisdom when you admit you’ve gone astray.

We fret about how to keep going the same old way when we should be casting around for another way that’s better.

It would blast the material out of the way with powerful shockwaves, leaving a trail of superhot plasma behind it. This would be something never before seen in the history of the universe: an underground shooting star.

…as though, capable themselves of suffering, they granted no reality to the suffering of others. ‘The subject exhibited a pain response.’ But not, under any circumstances, we hurt her.

You’re still as beautiful as the first day I saw you.” His eyes laser onto mine in a way that sends a shockwave to my core. Just like then, I’m embarrassed by my reaction to him. The idea of his touch makes my center clench with expectation.

The front edge of the shockwave impacts the earth and you’re both shoved to your backs against the crumbling asphalt of the parking lot, and then crushed into oblivion as the Earth, along with every celestial body of your solar system, is disintegrated into tiny shards and then sucked unceremoniously into the resulting black hole.

At supersonic and hypersonic speeds, a shockwave forms around the steak that helps protect it from the faster and faster winds. The exact characteristics of this shock front—and thus the mechanical stress on the steak—depend on how an uncooked 8-ounce filet tumbles at hypersonic speeds. I searched the literature, but was unable to find any research on this.

The cost of war is like an immeasurable tremor that knows no borders, its shockwaves reverberating across the world resulting in universal suffering.

Badger had been waiting with ever increasing certainty for that brown, government stamped envelope, to hit the floor with the impact of several atomic bombs; the shockwaves hitting him before the sound could penetrate his ears.

she sees them, again and again, all lighting at once, filling up the winter-naked trees, shockwave riders on the moving edge of nature’s most violent season, she sees them take wing again and again, the flutter of their wings like the snap of many sheets on the line, and she thinks: A month from now every kid in Derry Park will have a kite, they’ll run to keep the strings from getting tangled with each other. She thinks again: This is what flying is like.

It's not because my mind is made up that I don't want you to confuse me with any more facts. It's because my mind isn't made up. I already have more facts than I can cope with. So SHUT UP, do you hear me? SHUT UP!

Creating a healthy relationship is like creating a small, land-locked country. The borders are always under threat and every day you have to shore them up. So when something in the country implodes, the shockwaves move outwards and the borders push back until eventually the crisis subsides …

The radar directed flak intensifies. Like swarms of angry red-and-yellow-eyed snakes slithering up invisible ropes in the sky. The sky around them is a glittering maelstrom of light. The stars pale into insignificance. Down below the city is lit up in sections as shockwaves fan out in kaleidoscopic bursts. Shell smoke rising up from the ground. On his right a burst of flame and a thick guttering of black smoke lit up by the geometry of the searchlights.

It’s the social counterpart of natural selection. Those groups within society that craved power at the expense of everything else—morality, self-respect, honest friendship—they achieved dominance long ago. The mass of the public no longer has any contact with government; all they know is that if they step out of line they’ll be trodden on.

There are two kinds of fool. One says, ‘This is old, and therefore good.’ And one says, ‘This is new, and therefore better.

Few of us are equipped to cope with the complexity and dazzling variety of twenty-first-century existence.

There was exactly one power base available to sustain the old style of government," Nick grunted. "Organized crime." ​

But the habit patterns, inevitably, had survived. To the air, with a wry grin, he murmured, “How long, O Lord? How long?” In his private estimation: not long now.

They sought security by piling up more and more irrelevant weapons.

The explosion of human knowledge has accelerated to the point where even the most brilliant can’t cope with it any more. Theories have rigidified into dogma just as they did in the Middle Ages. The leading experts feel obligated to protect their creed against the heretics.

When something drops into your life that seems to threaten your future, remember this: the first shockwaves of the bomb are not sin. The real danger is yielding to them. Giving in. Putting up no spiritual fight. And the root of that surrender is unbelief - a failure to fight for faith in future grace. A failure to cherish all that God promises to be for us in Jesus.

We know, we feel in our guts, that decisions are constantly being made which are going to wreck our ambitions, our dreams, our personal relationships. But the people making those decisions are keeping them secret, because if they don’t they’ll lose the leverage they have over their subordinates.

And then he thrusts into me so fast and deep that my lungs seize up. The punishing stroke rips the orgasm out of me. I gasp for air as a burst of ecstasy rocks into me like a shockwave. I hear things. I think it’s my voice. I think…yup, I’m moaning Blake’s name, over and over again. And I think he might be chuckling as he fucks me into oblivion. But any amusement he might have felt disappears the moment he starts trembling on top of me. I’m no longer embarrassed about chanting his name like a meditation mantra, because when he comes, it’s with a hoarse, passion-drenched “Jess!” that echoes in the bedroom and vibrates in my heart.

on 4 July 1187 and, three months later, Jerusalem fell into Muslim hands. This calamity sent a shockwave through Western Europe and, with the preaching of a massive new crusade to avenge these injuries and reclaim the Holy Land, thousands of knights took up arms. According to the History of William Marshal ‘the number of those taking the cross was so great . . . that there was no man convinced of his worth who did not abandon wife and children to become a crusader.

An asteroid or comet traveling at cosmic velocities would enter the Earth’s atmosphere at such a speed that the air beneath it couldn’t get out of the way and would be compressed, as in a bicycle pump. As anyone who has used such a pump knows, compressed air grows swiftly hot, and the temperature below it would rise to some 60,000 Kelvin, or ten times the surface temperature of the Sun. In this instant of its arrival in our atmosphere, everything in the meteor’s path—people, houses, factories, cars—would crinkle and vanish like cellophane in a flame. One second after entering the atmosphere, the meteorite would slam into the Earth’s surface, where the people of Manson had a moment before been going about their business. The meteorite itself would vaporize instantly, but the blast would blow out a thousand cubic kilometers of rock, earth, and superheated gases. Every living thing within 150 miles that hadn’t been killed by the heat of entry would now be killed by the blast. Radiating outward at almost the speed of light would be the initial shock wave, sweeping everything before it. For those outside the zone of immediate devastation, the first inkling of catastrophe would be a flash of blinding light—the brightest ever seen by human eyes—followed an instant to a minute or two later by an apocalyptic sight of unimaginable grandeur: a roiling wall of darkness reaching high into the heavens, filling an entire field of view and traveling at thousands of miles an hour. Its approach would be eerily silent since it would be moving far beyond the speed of sound. Anyone in a tall building in Omaha or Des Moines, say, who chanced to look in the right direction would see a bewildering veil of turmoil followed by instantaneous oblivion. Within minutes, over an area stretching from Denver to Detroit and encompassing what had once been Chicago, St. Louis, Kansas City, the Twin Cities—the whole of the Midwest, in short—nearly every standing thing would be flattened or on fire, and nearly every living thing would be dead. People up to a thousand miles away would be knocked off their feet and sliced or clobbered by a blizzard of flying projectiles. Beyond a thousand miles the devastation from the blast would gradually diminish. But that’s just the initial shockwave. No one can do more than guess what the associated damage would be, other than that it would be brisk and global. The impact would almost certainly set off a chain of devastating earthquakes. Volcanoes across the globe would begin to rumble and spew. Tsunamis would rise up and head devastatingly for distant shores. Within an hour, a cloud of blackness would cover the planet, and burning rock and other debris would be pelting down everywhere, setting much of the planet ablaze. It has been estimated that at least a billion and a half people would be dead by the end of the first day. The massive disturbances to the ionosphere would knock out communications systems everywhere, so survivors would have no idea what was happening elsewhere or where to turn. It would hardly matter. As one commentator has put it, fleeing would mean “selecting a slow death over a quick one. The death toll would be very little affected by any plausible relocation effort, since Earth’s ability to support life would be universally diminished.

It was also not difficult to forecast that no matter how well endowed they were with material resources those countries where the Industrial Revolution arrived late would change proportionately more slowly. After all, the rich get richer and the poor get children.

I find no evidence for believing that I matter any more than any other human being who ever existed or who ever will exist. Nor does any of them matter more than I do. We’re elements in a process that began in the dim past and will develop through who knows what kind of future.

I swing down viciously but narrowly miss. It goes for another dive and I take my shot whacking it head-on in the face. The impact of my swing rattles through the bones in my arm as the shockwave from the strike explodes in a brilliant flash of coppery shimmers, chromatic sparks, and fiery swirls.

Legacies are not just for legends. Whether a million people know your name, or only one person does, you still have the right to leave your mark on the world, even if it’s only in your tiny corner of it, in the tiniest of ways. Not all of us will achieve great heights and feats. Most of us will never leave our hometown or country, let alone conquer Everest. And you know what? That’s okay. Because real life is what happens in between moments of greatness. It’s the little things that at the end of it all, you realize were greater than the sum of their parts. It’s the amount of times you laughed, or cried, danced, sang, created, inspired, and made someone smile. The best kind of legacies are the ones that are unseen. You’ll never fully be able to measure the effect of a smile or a kind word, but I promise you, the most whispered phrase can send a shockwave around the world that lasts for centuries, or even an eternity.

He reached up to gently pull the elastic from my hair, combing his fingers through the waves as they splayed over my shoulders. Even that massage on my scalp felt good, and I closed my eyes, swaying into him. "You're so beautiful," he murmured against my mouth, his hands still in my hair as he kissed me. This kiss was different from the ones in the pool, somehow--- slower, more exploratory, as though he had all the time in the world and he wanted to spend it with me. Meanwhile, I felt restless and pent-up and like if I didn't have him inside me right then I would explode. My insistent hands on his towel and underwear must've given him the hint, because within five seconds we were both naked and twined together on the bed, kissing and touching everywhere we could. I took the hard length of him in my hand, and he shuddered against me as I rubbed my thumb along the silky head of his cock. "Ah," he said, his voice sounding strangled. "I won't last long if you keep doing that." "What, this?" I said, and did it again. I liked seeing him this way, out of control, his eyes glittering and wild in the low light of the room. But then he turned the tables on me, flipping me over so I was pinned on my back, and he kissed his way down my throat, stopping to suck one aching nipple in his mouth, roll his tongue along the swell of my stomach before he found my clit. I bucked involuntarily, my hips grinding into him as if my body knew it needed more even before my mind did. He licked and sucked, his tongue doing wicked things inside me, until there was no way I could hold myself back even if I wanted to. I clenched at the sheets, gasping as I felt my orgasm shockwave through me.

Best if the driver didn't have to get hurt. Though having been fool enough to volunteer for army service, of course, and worse still, having been fool enough to accept orders unquestioningly from a machine... But everybody did that. Everybody, all the time. Otherwise none of this would have been possible. Similarly, none of it would have had to happen.

a sneaking feeling that people are wrong when they say human beings can’t keep track of the world any more, we have to leave it up to the machines.

I am I.” “Tat tvam asi.

Is our society on the right lines when of of its most gifted people can find no better career than crime unless literally millions per year of public money are lavished on him? ​

I always wondered what democracy might smell like.

I don’t think of my fellow men as dangerous. I think of them as capable of occasional dangerous mistakes.

Men, embryonically speaking, are imperfect women, as you know.

Governments rely on threat and trauma to survive. The easiest populace to rule is weak, poor, superstitious, preferably terrified of what tomorrow may bring,

First we had the legs race. Then we had the arms race. Now we’re going to have the brain race.

and that person might be Nickie Haflinger!

the plight of being old: clearly recalling what it was like to act voluntarily and enjoy life as it came, now trapped in a frame that forbade anything except slow cautious movements

I like you very much as a person,” he said […] “I think I’m going to like you just as much as a woman.” “I hope so,” she answered with equal formality. “We may have to go a lot of places together.

His vision blurred, his grip on the dash faltered and the cockpit lost definition. Then all the diati rushed back to him in its own shockwave. The physical force slammed him against the cockpit half-wall. He gasped air into his lungs as a crimson aura throbbed above his skin. The world spun around him, and it occurred to him if he wanted to he could control it—not the spinning, but the world.

I put it to you that no rule consciously invented by mankind since we acquired speech has force equivalent to those inherited from perhaps fifty, perhaps a hundred thousand generations of evolution in the wild state. I further suggest that the chief reason why modern society is in turmoil is that for too long we claimed that our special human talents could exempt us from the heritage written in our genes.

You know, that’s what’s wrong with us on the public level. We fret about how to keep going the same old way when we should be casting around for another way that’s better. Our society is hurtling in free fall toward heaven knows where,

And then that wicked mouth lands on my aching core, and an even wickeder tongue sweeps out for a long, lazy lick. Oh. My. God. A shockwave of pleasure darts from my clit to my breasts to…well, to everywhere. I feel that one lick in every inch of my body, and it’s so good I don’t have the strength to push him away. I do the opposite, actually—I grab the back of his head and pull him closer while my traitorous legs part even farther. “Yeah, that’s what I want,” Blake mumbles against my sensitive flesh. “Open up for me, honey.

our threshold of survival-prone behavior is so high it takes the prospect of total extermination to activate modes of placation and compromise, may there not be other processes, equally life-preserving, which can similarly be triggered off only at a far higher level of stimulus

How right you are.” She shivered. “Some of my colleagues at G2S, you know, live at Trianon, where they test new life-styles. And they boast about how their actions are monitored night and day, compare the advantages of various ultramodern bugs … I don’t know how they can stand it.

This continent is littered coast to coast with people who were compelled to study business administration when they should have been painting murals or practicing the fiddle or digging a truck garden, and finally got their chance when it was twenty years too late to lead them anywhere.

I'm proud of it. Apart from marking the first occasion when I used my talent on behalf of other people without being asked and without caring whether I was rewarded--which was a major breakthrough in itself--the job was a pure masterpiece. Working on it, I realized in my guts how an artist or an author can get high on the creative act. The poker who wrote Precipice's original tapeworm was pretty good, but you could theoretically have killed it without shutting down the net--that is, at the cost of losing thirty or forty billion bits of data. Which I gather they were just about prepared to do when I showed up. But mine...Ho, no! That, I cross my heart, cannot be killed without DISMANTLING the net.

I want you to feel what it’s like to be scared, pushed, cold, sluggish, whispered to, creeped out, and touched by an ethereal being or a demonic spirit. It’s not like trying to pinpoint the cause of a knock in your bathroom in the middle of the night. The feeling is oppressive, heavy, sometimes evil, magnetic, and even addictive. I want you to know what your body goes through when the flight instinct tells you to run and the intense emotional struggle you can go through when you try to ignore it. When you’re already amped up, physically and psychologically, simple noises seem much greater than they are. You don’t just hear them—you feel the shockwave from them as well and have to train yourself to deal with them appropriately. It’s a lifestyle that takes years to adjust to and I want to pass on those emotions and experiences.

Despite the chaos that was tearing her head apart, Tevi understood what scene Yenneg was attempting to play out, with herself as a conscripted actor. She needed to force out an explanation or denial, but no words could get past her lips. Jemeryl's presence was paralysing her, an effect far more irresistible than anything Yenneg had achieved. Tevi watched Jemeryl take another few steps forwards and then crouch down so that their eyes were no more than a foot apart. Tevi thought she would die from the shock. Yet somehow, she forced her mouth to shape the words, "Wine. Love potion." Her voice was not loud enough even to count as a whisper. Certainly nobody else in the room would have heard, yet Tevi could not control her breathing to manage anything else. At first Jemeryl showed no sign of comprehension, but then suddenly, the bewilderment on her face transformed into fury. She leapt up, her arms moving in a blurred aggressive swirl. The gesture ended with an action like hurling a ball. Blue fire erupted from Jemeryl's hands and shot towards Yenneg. The other sorcerer had obviously recognised the gesture and made an effort to protect himself. A shimmering shield sprung up before Yenneg, but it was not strong enough, and the shockwave knocked him off his feet. His shoulders slammed into the wall behind him and he crumpled to the floor. Jemeryl had been telling the truth when she claimed to vastly excel the acolytes in magical ability, not that Tevi had ever entertained doubts. Jemeryl's hands moved again, and this time Yenneg was sprawled on the floor and in no state to mount a defence. A second bolt of blue fire burst in his direction. Lightning in the form of a whip snapped across the room, intercepting Jemeryl's attack before it struck. The diverted fireball hit the wall of the summerhouse two feet from Yenneg's head and smashed through it, as if it were a stone going through wet paper.

It started with population. Not having a fixed breeding season was among the reasons why mankind achieved dominance; it kept our numbers topped up at an explosive rate. Past certain stage restrictive process set in: male libido is reduced or diverted into nonfertile channels, female ovulation is irregularized and sometimes fails completely. But long before we reach that point we find the company of our fellow creatures so unbearable we resort to war, or a tribal match. Kill one another or ourselves. ​

I see bacon, green peppers, mushrooms... those are all found in Napolitan Spaghetti. I guess instead of the standard ketchup, he's used curry roux for the sauce? The noodles look similar to fettuccini." "Hm. I'm not seeing anything else that stands out about it. Given how fun and amusing the calzone a minute ago was... ... the impact of this one's a lot more bland and boring..." W-what the heck? Where did this heavy richness come from? It hits like a shockwave straight to the brain! "Chicken and beef stocks for the base... with fennel and green cardamom for fragrance! What an excellent, tongue-tingling curry sauce! It clings well to the broad fettuccini noodles too!" "For extra flavor is that... soy sauce?" "No, it's tamari soy sauce! Tamari soy sauce is richer and less salty than standard soy sauce, with a more full-bodied sweetness to it. Most tamari is made on Japan's eastern seaboard. " "That's not all either! I'm picking up the mellow hints of cheese! But I'm not seeing a single shred of any kind of cheese in here. Where's it hiding?" "Allow me to tell you, sir. First, look at the short edge of a noodle, please." ?! What on earth?! This noodle's got three layers!" "For the outer layers, I kneaded turmeric into the pasta dough. But for the inner layer, I added Parmesan cheese!" "I see! It's the combination of the tamari soy sauce and the parmesan cheese that gives this dish its incredible richness!" "Yeah, but wait a minute! If you go kneading cheese right into the noodles, wouldn't it just melt back out when you boiled them?" No... that's why they're in three layers! With the cheese in the middle, the outer layers prevented it from melting out! The deep, rich curry sauce, underscored with the flavor of tamari soy sauce... ... and the chewy noodles, which hit you with the mellow, robust taste of parmesan cheese with every bite! Many people are familiar with the idea of coating cream cheese in soy sauce... ... but who would have thought parmesan cheese would match this well with tamari soy sauce!

flew toward them with the goal hanging over it. He glanced in front and the bridge-opening suddenly engulfed them, Dancer barreling between the metal rails and its hooves hitting wood. VrrrrOOOOOMMMMM! The SUV’s front bumper slammed the narrow bridge’s metal railings, snapping the bolts and curling the steel on both sides of the horse. Greyson felt the engine’s heat on his back and grimaced, bracing for impact. But then it happened – the goal’s net snagged the edge of the bridge rail and pulled the metal frame down like a clamp around the hood; the front wheels dug into the bridge and stopped, but the back of the vehicle carried the momentum and swung over top, the rear wheels spinning loudly as they pointed toward the falling rain. The speed carried the huge metal beast over the net and flung it at the children from behind. Dancer leapt from the bridge just as the SUV struck it like a colossal pendulum, exploding in a cluster bomb of splinters and a tidal wave of water. The shockwave of wood and water washed over them from behind, hitting them with stinging shrapnel as Dancer galloped with the wave into open field. Sydney pulled on the reins and Dancer curled to a stop. Breathing heavy with adrenaline,

In the cosmic calendar of the universe and life, with the Big Bang happening on January 1st, almost fourteen billion years ago, when a supercharged universe-dense speck of energy blew open at the speed of faster-than-light and a thousand trillion degrees Celsius, an explosion that had to create the space it exploded into since there was no space, no something, no nothing, it was near the end of January that the first galaxies were born, almost a whole month and a billion years of atoms moving in cosmic commotion until they began to flock bombshell-bright in furnaces of hydrogen and helium we now call stars, the stars themselves flocking into galaxies until, almost two billion years later on March 16th, one of these galaxies, the Milky Way, was formed, and a six-billion-year summer passed in routine havoc until, at the end of August, a shockwave from a supernova might have caused a slowly rotating solar nebula to collapse – who knows? – but in any case it did collapse and in its condensed centre a star formed that we call our sun, and around it a disc of planets, in some cosmic clumping thumping clashing banging Wild West shoot-out of rock and gas and headlong combat of matter and gravity, and this is August.

Crestacre Chiropractic Clinic. Chiropractor Aldridge, Walsall, Birmingham & West Midlands treating acute and chronic back pain, neck pain, hip pain, headaches & sporting injuries. Our patients travel from Sutton Coldfield, Lichfield, Cannock and surrounding areas providing professional holistic Chiropractor care that can include: Plantar fasciitis treatment, shockwave therapy, Rotator cuff injury treatment, heel spurs treatment, shin splints treatment, ultrasound imaging, tendonitis treatment, trapped nerve treatment, slipped disc treatment, carpal tunnel treatment, gait scanning for lower back pain treatment, ganglion cyst treatment and much more. Open late with appointments to meet your needs.

It was all so unreal, like the moment of receiving a mortal blow, and I closed my eyes hoping I could shut out the nightmare. In the first shock-waves, the world seemed to disintegrate around me with sickening finality. I know at first I felt fear for the safety of my family and horror at the disclosure of an intimate and highly personal event in my life, but the initial shock of it was replaced by a towering rage. I was livid with anger and I don't hesitate to admit it. To me, that message was a symbol of a brutal and cruel betrayal. A lifetime of agonizing unhappiness, two years of medical treatment and two surgical operations had been telescoped into a couple of succinct lines on a telegraph form, and I knew without being told that it would go far beyond that hospital room.

I’ve heard that black holes are stars that have collapsed in on themselves and when they do, shockwaves ripple into space, never to be complete again. From then on, a once shining star becomes a waste of space, living dead, pulling gravity so that not even light can escape.

Here’s a woman who, for close on two decades, has attended this faith community, disfigured and buckled over in pain. The spiritual leader, whose job is to see people in their community as God sees them, does not seem bothered by her dismal condition. It’s only when she stands upright that he takes offence. Jesus then sends further shockwaves through the gathering as he bestows on this woman a title that has never been given before: “[T]his woman [is] a daughter of Abraham.” Sarah Bessey comments on this moment: “People had only ever heard of ‘sons of Abraham’—never daughters. But at the sound of Jesus’ words ‘daughter of Abraham,’ he gave her a place to stand alongside the sons, especially the ones snarling with their sense of ownership and exclusivity over it all.

Ames, my archdemon, my Ghost. The sound of his voice sent shockwaves of heat and calm through me. He was always both for me. Part hell’s smoke and part bouquets of bats. And I was completely enamored with every part of him.

you ready for your StratoLance training, sir?’ inquired the computerised voice, as the car drove off. ‘Totally ready!’ replied Zac.

Only years later would scientists again need to harness the power of multiple processors at once, when massively parallel processing would become an integral part of supercomputing. Years later, too, the genealogy of Shoch’s worm would come full circle. Soon after he published a paper about the worm citing The Shockwave Rider, he received a letter from John Brunner himself. It seemed that most science fiction writers harbored an unspoken ambition to write a book that actually predicted the future. Their model was Arthur C. Clarke, the prolific author of 2001: A Space Odyssey, who had become world-famous for forecasting the invention of the geosynchronous communications satellite in an earlier short story. “Apparently they’re all jealous of Arthur Clarke,” Shoch reflected. “Brunner wrote that his editor had sent him my paper. He said he was ‘really delighted to learn, that like Arthur C. Clarke, I predicted an event of the future.’” Shoch briefly considered replying that he had only borrowed the tapeworm’s name but that the concept was his own and that, unfortunately, Brunner did not really invent the worm. But he let it pass.

Nolan Hill Physiotherapy And Massage NW Calgary, We Are Committed To Delivering The Highest Level Of Care To Our Patients With Our Services Physiotherapy And Massage, Acupuncture, Sports Injury Treatment, Shockwave Therapy. Your Well-Being Is Our Priority!

Emma counts down to three, and as soon as we splash into the water, it comes alive. Millions of white lights sparkle. They radiate out like a shockwave, tiny brilliant explosions like nothing I've ever seen. Emma is stomping onward, a path of light in her wake. I follow along, but I go slower, not wanting to take the next step until the last one has subsided, afraid that the magic will run out. It's like lightning underwater, like microscopic fireflies raging in sync. When the water calms back to darkness, I lean over, run my hand through the water. The lights follow suit, like it's my skin that's charged and not the water. I hear Emma's stomping and near-maniacal laughter get closer. "What is this?" I ask, my face only a few inches away from the water. I hadn't even noticed how warm the lake is, how soaked through my jeans are. I swirl my fingers across the surface, enchanted. "This is nature being ridiculous," Emma says. "Bioluminescent plankton. Like swimming in fireworks.

In the fecund shock-waves of the explosion, it was not only the Surrealists' own dreams that had manifested. Born with them were symbols from Symbolism and Decadence, imaginings of the surrealists' ancestors and beloveds, ghosts from their proto-canon.

This is not the case in the United Kingdom where RPW and FSW are able to be used by everyone from consultants and doctors, through physiotherapists, osteopaths, chiropractors and the like.

Joshua took another small sip from his wine glass as his gaze and his thoughts drifted away from the flat-screen television mounted above the marbled fireplace to ponder a roomful of sports jackets and pantsuits and in some cases cocktail dresses but only of neutral tones and minimal detailing if for no other reason than to avoid becoming the subject of the next petty scandal that would nevertheless send shockwaves through their haughty and insular world. The way they stood in their intimate clusters. Their drink glasses held in various poses of sophistication. And whenever they did bring glass to mouth in accordance with judiciously preset intervals it was also for show, as he believed was true of their subdued conversations, which, from where he was sitting, appeared to be nothing more than the unintelligible murmurings of barely moving lips. A whole list of observations came to mind. Not one of them flattering in any way. The atmosphere thick with that certain stuffiness and elitist redolence of an ivy league alumni fundraising gala. Of course, he readily admitted to himself that out of everyone in the room he was very likely the most materially bereft and least credentialed and that this stinging truth undoubtedly inflamed his plebeian impulse. But that’s not what was bugging him.

A stone dropped in a pond, Claire thought, forever making ripples. And it would never stop. There was no bank for it to break against. Instead, like a shockwave, it would continue on until there was no one left to feel it.

The informer’s death sent a shockwave through the STF. To serve as a warning to any potential informer, Veerappan got Kandavel’s last moments recorded on camera. A few days later, graphic photographs of his brutal end appeared in the Tamil magazine Nakkeeran, along with a screaming headline: ‘Trial in Veerappan’s Court—Death for Betrayal’.

Tessla? Are you all right?” “He’s sick,” I choke out, the floodgates suddenly flung wide open, a storm of emotion coursing through me. “Wren’s sick. He’s been sick a long time.” “I know,” Vale says. He sets the cat down and looks at me closely. “The Red Grippe. I left orders for my family’s physician to tend to him. Fain will make sure he’s given Obsythian tonic this week.” All the blood drains from my face, and I stagger down until I’m sitting on the floor. He’ll be cured of it. Just like that. He’ll live. “Tessla?” I bring my hand to my eyes, overtaken by a staggering relief. “Oh, Ancient One. Vale. Thank you so much. Oh, Ancient One. Thank you.” “We’re fasted, Tessla,” he says, his voice low and gentle, tinged with confusion. “Of course I’d do anything for you.” His noble sentiment and kindness send shockwaves through me. I cry hot tears of overwhelming gratitude into my hand.

In that moment Baja felt something like a hammer blow to his chest. Everyone in those pockets of Air was Felsia to someone. Every life saved there filled someone else with relief and joy. Every life snuffed out was another Katowa, someone somewhere having their heart torn out. Baja could feel the detonator in his hands. The horrible click transferring to his palm as the button depressed. He could feel that terrible shockwave again as the landing pad vanished in fire. He could feel the horror replaced by fear. As some unlucky combinations of events up the shuttle too close to the blast and knocked it from the sky. He could feel all of it so clearly, it was as if it was happening right then, but more than that he felt sorrow. Someone had just tried to do the same thing to his baby girl, had tried to kill her. Not because he hated her, but because she was standing in the path of his political statement. Everyone who had dies on that shuttle had been a Felsia to someone, and with a click of a button he’s killed them. He hadn’t meant to; he’d been trying to save them. That was the little lie that he’d kept close to his heart for months now. But the truth was much worse. Some secret part of him had wanted the shuttle to die, had reveled watching it fall from the sky in flames, had wanted to punish the people trying to take his world away. Except that was a lie, too. The real truth, the truth beneath it all, was that he had wanted to spread his pain around to punish the universe for being a place where his little boy had been killed – to punish other people for being alike when his Katowa was dead. That part of him had watched the shuttle burn and thought now you know how it feels; now you know how I feel. But the people he’d hurt had just saved his daughter because they were the type of people who couldn’t let even their enemies die helpless. The first sob took him by surprise, nearly bending him double with its power. Then he was blind, his eyes filled with water, his throat closed like someone was choking him. He gasped for air, and every gasp turned into another loud sob. …He tried to speak, to reassure (Naomi), but when he tried, the only words he could say were, “I killed them.” He meant the governor and Coop and Kate and the RCE security team, but most of all Katowa. He’d killed his little boy over and over again every time he’d let someone else die to punish them for his son’s death. “I killed them.” “This time you saved them,” Naomi repeated. “These ones you saved.

Daydream Jethro crept closer, working his cock, a dangerous glint in his eyes. The moment I was within grabbing distance, he captured my waist. “I need to be inside you, Nila.” I put words into Jethro’s mouth, but it was his voice I heard in my heart. I moaned again, angling the showerhead harder against my clit. “How do you want it?” my fantasy whispered in my ear as he spun me around and pressed me hard against the wall. I swallowed hard, answering in my mind. “Fast and…” “Filthy?” Daydream Jethro’s nose nuzzled the back of my ear, sending shockwaves down my spine. “I can fuck you filthy.” I couldn’t speak. But I didn’t have to. My fantasy knew exactly how I needed it. Jethro bit the back of my shoulder, spreading my legs wider with his. “Fuck me, Jethro Hawk,” I whispered. “Oh, I will. Believe me, I will.” Without further warning, he dug his fingers into my hips and slammed inside me. My fingers went numb as I slid the showerhead from clit to entrance. I cried out as water shot inside at the same time as Jethro thrust into me from behind, sliding deep and fast, stretching me deliciously painfully. My heart exploded with bliss. An orgasm squeezed every atom, getting ready to hurl me into the stratosphere. Jethro thrust again and I rode my new friend the showerhead. “Oh, God. Yes,” I hissed, rocking harder. “Yes, yes…” A masculine cough sounded. “You continue to surprise me, Ms. Weaver; at least this time, I rather enjoy it.

the crew Luis went with could hit the bull’s-eye within a hundred meters. “Good enough to blow old Adolf to atoms,” Luis said. “That’s why we should keep the A-bomb name.” “Atom bomb?” Karl asked. “Adolf bomb.” •  •  • The drop sequence was in good shape, so Luis could turn to getting the shock-wave detectors launched from the following airplane, and the auto-cameras.

The tightness of his jaws as he went down on me, and the shockwave that went through my body as he massaged my balls nearly sent me into cardiac arrest.

What a wise man can do, that can’t be done by someone who’s merely clever, is make a right judgement in an unprecedented situation. ​

...is this an unforgivable invasion of privacy? Invasion of privacy it is; unforgivable ...Well, do you believe that justice shall not only be done, but shall be seen to be done? The privacy my worm is designed to invade is that privacy under whose cover justice is not than and injustice is not seen. It doesn't care whether the poker who leeched his tax-free payoff spent it on seducing little girls; it cares only thata he was rewared for commiting a crime and wasn't brought to book. It doesn't care if the shivver who bought that congressman was straight or gay; it cares only that a public servant took a bribe. It doesn't care if the judge who misdirected the jury was concerned to keep her lover's identity secret; it cares only that a person was jailed who should have been released. ​

...is this an unforgivable invasion of privacy? Invasion of privacy it is; unforgivable ...Well, do you believe that justice shall not only be done, but shall be seen to be done? The privacy my worm is designed to invade is that privacy under whose cover justice is not than and injustice is not seen. It doesn't care whether the poker who leeched his tax-free payoff spent it on seducing little girls; it cares only thata he was rewared for commiting a crime and wasn't brought to book. It doesn't care if the shivver who bought that congressman was straight or gay; it cares only that a public servant took a bribe. It doesn't care if the judge who misdirected the jury was concerned to keep her lover's identity secret; it cares only that a person was jailed who should have been released.

Noni grabbed her hand, pried it open, and dumped the sparkly nipple covers into her palm. “They’re called pasties. You put them on your boobies, dear.” “What?” Lannie blinked. Of course she knew where they went. That her grandmother knew, well, proved to be a bit disturbing.

Without warning, a 9.5 Richter scale earthquake began just off the coast of California, near San Francisco. For the U.S. Geologic Survey, there had been no indications of a pending super quake. Seismic monitors were showing no activity for California for the previous six months, which had the scientists concerned, but they weren’t terribly worried about it. The shockwaves from the quake extended into San Francisco itself, but the scientists were shocked when it didn’t extend to Oakland, to any of the towns and cities south of the San Francisco International Airport, or anything from the Golden Gate Bridge northward. Unfortunately, the suddenness of the quake made it too late to warn the citizens of that city.

As the water retreated to the Pacific, anything left of the city was dragged into the gap in the Earth, or if it wasn’t near the gaping hole, the water took the remnants into the ocean. It was apparent that part of the Presidio and Fisherman’s Wharf were left mostly untouched by the water, and the San Francisco International Airport was dry, but had suffered a lot of damage from the shockwave from the earthquake. As the last of the water retreated into the ocean, the Earth resealed itself as the hole disappeared. What remained of San Francisco was now nothing but a large brown spot that was like a gaping wound in the civilization around it.

C-130 dropped the MOAB, the biggest conventional the United States has in its inventory. The MOAB hit the Tyson house, causing a massive explosion, bigger than the SWAT leader had really expected. The shockwave was big enough to rattle the SWAT team. They waited until the fire from the explosion died down before they went back onto the property to find out if anyone had survived.

The heat from his penetration sends a shockwave through my entire being.”—Sofia Herrera (Total Abandonment, Unbearable Passion, #4)

I looked around, my heart pounding faster, trying to spot it before it could get the jump on me. The creature was near, but the noise sounded like it was coming from everywhere at once. No, I realized, not everywhere. It’s just very, very close. I looked up. Nine arms clung to the ceiling above my head by their twisted, blackened fingernails. Five heads looked down at me and screamed as one. 15. I felt the creature’s scream more than I heard it, a rippling shockwave that scorched through the air and hit my heart like a fist. The shock sent me reeling, jumping backward as the arms let go and the creature fell, slamming onto the living room floor where I’d been standing a heartbeat before.

taken the full brunt of the FOAB explosion and shockwave.

Pierce the Skies, Shatter the Earth (R): Such is the mastery of the spear that it allows you to bend the laws of reality with its fearsome power. This is a two-part move. First, the user leaps up into the air, piercing the skies. Then the user falls to the ground, creating a large shockwave that spreads outward from the point of impact. Effectiveness of the Skill increases with Skill Level. Height of the Pierce increases with Skill Level. Area of shockwave increases with Skill Level.

Theory does not derive its legitimacy from established facts, but from future events. Its value is not in the past events it can illuminate, but in the shockwave of the events it prefigures. It does not act upon consciousness, but directly on the course of things from which it draws its energy. It therefore has to be dis tinguished from the academic practice of philosophy and from all that is written with an eye to the history of ideas.

Simon writes love poems about prime numbers. Or maybe to prime numbers.

We are now accelerating towards probably the most important moment in the entire history of Earth, comparable in significance only to the emergence of life itself on this planet -- the Technological Singularity, Intelligence Supernova, the Omega Point of Homo sapiens, progressively morphing into one Global Mind. This 'cosmic event' would mark the end of human era, as we are to inexorably transcend our animal biology, and even more importantly, we are to transcend our limited dimensionality. History is, after all, 'a shockwave of eschatology' in the words of McKenna.