Skating Power Quotes

My best advice to myself was to act like I’d been there before. I was in way over my head, and I was not skating down the line between good and bad anymore. I tried to justify my actions by reminding myself that it was part of my investigation but even I couldn’t fool myself that much. I drained my glass and then drained the one that Sara handed me. In no way, was this evening turning out to have career building opportunity written on it. I was getting more nervous by the minute.

And don't think that has anything to do with this." He points to his eye. "I'm aware in the moments I lack emotion. You and Garrick don't need to share little oh no glances. I already feel it. It's like sliding over a frozen lake while a shrinking part of me screams that I'm supposed to be swimming in those pieces I've bartered away, and those feelings are right beneath the surface, but fuck is skating faster and a hell of a lot less messy. This shit?" He swings his finger back toward the house. "It's messy and painful and infuriating, and if I could choose to give this portion of myself away, so help me, Malek, I would. I get it now. It's not just the power that's addicting; it's the freedom to not feel this." "Xaden," I whisper, all but bleeding out by the time he finishes. [...] "Don't barter it away." I beg as he stares at the sea and the words spill out of me faster and faster as his eyes harden and he resurrects the defences it took me a year to break past. "The pain. The mess. Give it to me. I'll hold it. I know that sounds ludicrous, but I'll find a way." I lace our fingers. "I will hold everything you don't want to feel because I love every part of you." "You already hold my soul and now you want my pain? Getting greedy, Violence." He brings my hand to his mouth and brushes a kiss over my knuckles before letting go.

She was her own kind of dreamer, a blind mathematician skating along the thin surface of life, believing in the saving power of logic, reason, and information, overlooking the whole murky expanse of feeling and animal instinct that was the real driver of human behavior, the real author of history.

And don't think that has anything to do with this." He points to his eye. "I'm aware in the moments I lack emotion. You and Garrick don't need to share little oh no glances. I already feel it. It's like sliding over a frozen lake while a shrinking part of me screams that I'm supposed to be swimming in those pieces I've bartered away, and those feelings are right beneath the surface, but fuck is skating faster and a hell of a lot less messy. This shit?" He swings his finger back toward the house. "It's messy and painful and infuriating, and if I could choose to give this portion of myself away, so help me, Malek, I would. I get it now. It's not just the power that's addicting; it's the freedom to not feel this." "Xaden," I whisper, all but bleeding out by the time he finishes. [...] "Don't barter it away." I beg as he stares at the sea and the words spill out of me faster and faster as his eyes harden and he resurrects the defences it took me a year to break past. "The pain. The mess. Give it to me. I'll hold it. I know that sounds ludicrous, but I'll find a way." I lace our fingers. "I will hold everything you don't want to feel because I love every part of you." "You already hold my soul and now you want my pain? Getting greedy, Violence." He brings my hand to his mouth and brushes a kiss over my knuckles before letting go.

Audience of angels descend in the ambiance reciting praises in your glory, when you wear your dance shoes, when you arrive at the stage and with every step you take beneath your feet heaven moves. That is the power of dance.

She was her own kind of dreamer, a blind mathematician skating along the thin surface of life, believing in the saving power of logic, reason, and information, overlooking the whole murky expanse of feeling and animal instinct that was the real driver of human behavior, the real author of history. Since

All I want, what I desire, is your surrender.” His voice was pitched low, so low I knew if anyone else had been in the room they wouldn’t have heard him. “I’m not a good man.” He said it so matter-of-factly that I had no doubts whatsoever that this man knew who and what he was. “I’m a killer, a drug lord.” He took another step closer. “I rule the underground with apathy and violence.” His chest was so wide, so powerful that it took up my entire view. “I know who and what you are.” But did I really? He shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t think you do, Sofia. I don’t think you do at all.” I was sucking air into my lungs, hard, fast, yet I couldn’t breathe. “I feel you’re my weakness,” he said softly, his voice deep, like a knife skating along my body, barely touching me, but the threat of getting cut was right there at the surface. He lifted his head then, staring me in the eyes, his gaze so cold, so hard. I was small, miniature compared to him. “And having a weakness isn’t something I’m comfortable with.

Jon Rubinstein, who was in charge of hardware, adapted the microprocessor and guts of the PowerMac G3, Apple’s high-end professional computer, for use in the proposed new machine. It would have a hard drive and a tray for compact disks, but in a rather bold move, Jobs and Rubinstein decided not to include the usual floppy disk drive. Jobs quoted the hockey star Wayne Gretzky’s maxim, “Skate where the puck’s going, not where it’s been.” He was a bit ahead of his time, but eventually most computers eliminated floppy disks.

Many of those paths will be found in passions outside the classroom. While extroverts are more likely to skate from one hobby or activity to another, introverts often stick with their enthusiasms. This gives them a major advantage as they grow, because true self-esteem comes from competence, not the other way around. Researchers have found that intense engagement in and commitment to an activity is a proven route to happiness and well-being. Well-developed talents and interests can be a great source of confidence for your child, no matter how different he might feel from his peers.

You. In a dress.'' That's what I wanted him to say. He didn't end up saying it, but I said it to myself many times as I greeted my reflection in the buildings going up Broadway. My high heels rocked me like roller skates, my hair that I had spent time blow-drying was whipped up, I was suddenly vulnerable to the weather, to uneven sidewalks. I nodded to the iron wedge of the Flatiron like a prestigious acquaintance. The dress was half a paycheck. A short, black silk tunic. I was still confused about the power of clothes - nobody had taught me how to dress myself. When I tried it on and looked in the mirror, I was meeting myself decades from now, when I had grown unconquerable. All in a dress. I nearly returned it twice. I saw myself in the dark-green glass of a closed bank. I turned to my reflection: You. In a dress.

We think we make bucket lists to ward off regret, but really they help us to ward off death. After all, the longer our bucket lists are, the more time we imagine we have left to accomplish everything on them. Cutting the list down, however, makes a tiny dent in our denial systems, forcing us to acknowledge a sobering truth: Life has a 100 percent mortality rate. Every single one of us will die, and most of us have no idea how or when that will happen. In fact, as each second passes, we’re all in the process of coming closer to our eventual deaths. As the saying goes, none of us will get out of here alive. [...] Who wants to think about this? How much easier it is to become death procrastinators! Many of us take for granted the people we love and the things we find meaningful, only to realize, when our deadline is announced, that we’d been skating by on the project: our lives.”-Maybe You Should Talk to Someone, p.79, Lori Gottlieb “It’s no surprise that we often dream about our fears. We have a lot of fears. What are we afraid of? We are afraid of being hurt. We are afraid of being humiliated. We are afraid of failure and we are afraid of success. We are afraid of being alone and we are afraid of connection. We are afraid to listen to what our hearts are telling us. We are afraid of being unhappy and we are afraid of being too happy. We are afraid of not having our parents’ approval and we are afraid of accepting ourselves for who we really are. We are afraid of bad health and good fortune. We are afraid of our envy and having too much. We are afraid to have hope for things that we might not get. We are afraid of change and we are afraid of not changing. We are afraid of something happening to our kids, our jobs. We are afraid of not having control and afraid of our own power. We are afraid of how briefly we are alive and how long we will be dead. (We are afraid that after we die, we won’t have mattered.) We are afraid of being responsible for our own lives. Sometimes it takes a while to admit our fears, especially to ourselves.

Without moving apart, Zev moaned and whispered into Jonah’s mouth, “Damn, Blondie, you’re a great kisser.” Jonah moved his arms up to Zev’s back, wrapping the young man in his embrace and stroking his smooth, firm skin. “You’re not so bad yourself, Hassick. You been practicing this with someone without me knowing?” Zev snickered. “You jealous?” Jonah didn’t return the smile. He looked into Zev’s eyes and answered without any guile, “Yeah. I’m jealous of anyone who got to touch you.” Instead of looking freaked out, as Jonah had half expected, Zev remained completely calm. He gazed into Jonah’s eyes with such powerful emotion that Jonah’s heart raced and his breath hitched. “Unless you can manage being jealous of yourself, you don’t have to worry. Like I told you yesterday, I haven’t ever thought about anyone else—girls or guys—let alone touched anyone else. It’s just you, Blondie. It’s always been you.” Zev let his words sink in, then he reversed the tables on the discussion. “What about you? Been hiding out behind the bleachers sneaking kisses with cheerleaders?” Jonah snorted more than laughed. “Uh, Zev, I was teasing about the whole not-so-smart thing earlier, but now I’m thinking I may have been on to something. That hardness you feel against your stomach isn’t a banana. That’s me happy to see you, or feel you, in this case. And you’re a guy. With that background in place, we can add two and two together here and even someone with your limited math skills can come up with the correct answer. I’m gay. I’ve got no deep dark cheerleader secrets in my past.” Zev was amazed at how easily Jonah said the words. He admired how his friend so completely accepted this part of himself. No shame, no hesitation. Just a matter-of-fact statement. In that moment, Zev decided he’d take the same approach. He knew it’d shock his parents. Hell, it’d rock his whole community. But he was attracted to a man. He had a male mate. That meant he was gay. Zev Hassick was a gay shifter. The pack would just have to find a way to deal with that truth even though they’d always believed it to be impossible. “And in case you’re wondering,” Jonah continued, his hand still rubbing Zev’s back but now moving lower, skating over his ass, “I don’t have any deep dark football player secrets, either. I’ve had a crush on one guy for as long as I can remember and I kinda put all my eggs in that basket.” Zev took another kiss, slow, soft and sweet this time. “I better be the egg-basket guy in that story, Blondie, or the tickles are coming back in full force.

The passion that had seemed dry and dead was back, crackling in Addisyn's soul. Her whole spirit was alive again, and she was skating with all that was in her. All the pain was being turned into power.

Clearly you’re unfamiliar with the concept of the Regency-era duel,” I say. “Oh, I’m familiar, but since I rarely find myself flirting with the unwed daughters of powerful dukes, I figure I’m okay.” “You think we’re just going to skate over you being well versed in Regency customs?” “Harriet, I don’t get the feeling you skate over anything,” he says.

Gliding in the bowl, all that noise and power falling down on you, the ice trembling beneath your skates, the shouts quaking your bones. The echo of that rumbles inside you for the rest of your life. I’d played on hometown favorite teams, and I’d seen arenas jumping, but I had never felt it like this.

Super sincere Steve Perry sent his voice soaring over smashing cymbals and power-ballad guitars that pounded the rink walls with crashing waves as cooing couples skated close.

Is knowing how to skate a prerequisite for hanging out with you?” “No. I want you to learn for you. I’ve taught you a lot of things over the last couple of months, Piper, and it pisses me off I didn’t get to teach you how to skate the first time. Consider this a door closing on your past. After tonight, everything you want to learn, I’m going to be by your side while you do. Encouraging you. Motivating and supporting you. You won’t be embarrassed or afraid of anything ever again.

skating Friday night?

wanted to eat her until she came on my face, her juices coating me like sweat from an hour of power skating.

New World Magic Passive: Uses canisters as batteries over a long period of time, such as skates. Active: Uses canisters to cast a spell once, like my lightning. Old World Magic Passive: Runs on its own power without canisters over a long period of time. Active: Casting spells without the usage of anything other than your magic.

It was the USSR, as an emerging basketball power in the 1950s, that first called on Olympic leaders to officially add women's basketball to the program as a medal sport, a half century after the Fort Shaw girls demonstrated the game in St. Louis. Their first attempt came during a June 1955 meeting of the International Olympic Committee in Paris, where the Soviets asked delegates to vote on the adding women's competitions in volleyball, basketball, speed skating, and rowing, all of which were already open to male athletes.

He threw his hockey stick in anger, then skated to get the stick and marched off to the locker room. Next thing he knew, his mother was in the locker room, too. She bounded right up to him, oblivious to the fact that the guys around her were in various states of undress. She grabbed him by the jersey in front of everyone. “You punk,” she yelled at him. “If you don’t know how to lose, you’ll never know how to win. If you don’t know this, you don’t belong anywhere.” He paused for a moment, recalling the memory. “She was a powerhouse,” he said. “I loved her beyond comprehension.” She

One time, at the final hockey game of his senior year, against rival Beverly at the hockey rink in Lynn, the score was tied at two after regulation. Jack had scored both goals for Salem. The game went into overtime, but shortly thereafter, Jack’s team lost. It was the team’s seventh loss in a row. Jack was pissed. He threw his hockey stick in anger, then skated to get the stick and marched off to the locker room. Next thing he knew, his mother was in the locker room, too. She bounded right up to him, oblivious to the fact that the guys around her were in various states of undress. She grabbed him by the jersey in front of everyone. “You punk,” she yelled at him. “If you don’t know how to lose, you’ll never know how to win. If you don’t know this, you don’t belong anywhere.” He paused for a moment, recalling the memory. “She was a powerhouse,” he said. “I loved her beyond comprehension.

As you comply to the Holy Spirit’s leading, you will gain a greater understanding of what I have already worked out for you. I will not deceive you. Take My hand and allow Me to walk you through the valley of death. You will fear no evil for knowing with assurance that your hand is in My hand. I have gone before you and saw the enemy’s plan—and the way of escape. The enemy will not see you coming; you will catch him off course even when he tries to catch you slipping. Know, My child, that I have your footing and you will not slip or fall on the ice rink of life. I will skate with you, and together we will become a great partnership to success. I have given you authority and graced you with power to resist the enemy of your purpose and he will run from you. The devil only recognizes authentic authority. Give voice to that which I have placed within you. Tell sickness to flee today, disease to flee today, poverty to flee today, demon spirits to flee today.

From that 1982 realignment onward, the Norris Division basically devolved into a decade-long bar fight on skates, one that featured virtually every notable tough guy of the era. Everyone from Bob Probert to Joey Kocur to Stu “The Grim Reaper” Grimson to Basil McRae to John Kordic to Shane Churla passed through the division at some point, and none of them were there to run the power play.

Unfortunately, any discussion of my powers led to thoughts of shape-shifting, which led to thoughts of Annie, which led to worry. Worry? Hell, no. Let’s call it what it really was. Outright panic. If I even started thinking of it, my heart pounded and my mouth went dry. When I tried to skate over the subject, Daniel brought me back, and we hashed it out. Turning out like Annie wasn’t a certainty--she was the only subject we knew who’d begun to shift. Growing up in a medical research town meant we knew all about side effects and outliers. Her case might be a one-off. And if it wasn’t? Then we knew where to find the scientists who’d done this to us. We didn’t trust them. We didn’t want anything to do with them. Still… “If that happens to you, we’re getting their help,” Daniel said. “But--” He put his hand over my mouth. “No buts. If it happens to you, we go to them. We’ll force them to fix you on our terms.” A wry smile. “I can make people do things, remember?” I was sure it wouldn’t be that easy. But having him say it? Be willing to take that risk for me? It meant a lot.

It was the same with his glutes, substantial and strong and set high to power what often appeared to be an effortless skating stride.

Do you think it’s possible that the enemy knew the outpost had been emptied for War Games and was trying to take advantage of the situation?” she asks. Exactly. Professors Devera and Markham share a look. “We do,” Professor Devera finally answers. “But the delay would show a lag in the timing of their information, correct?” Rhiannon continues. “The outpost was only empty for what? A few days?” “Five days, to be precise,” Markham answers. “And this attack occurred eight days after it was reoccupied.” His gaze skates over mine, then lifts to the rows above. “The Poromiel trading post nearby, Resson, was leveled by Poromish unrest a couple of weeks ago, and we think that may be helping disrupt their communication lines about our outpost.” Poromish unrest? Power rises within me so quickly that my skin heats.

I watch Liam skate over the red line. His teammates surround him and Maverick, but he shoves past them. Throws off his gloves and drops his stick on the ice. He bolts toward me, blades slicing across the Stars logo, eyes locked on mine. I don’t have a second to breathe before he’s yanking me out of the tunnel. Sweeping me off my feet and hugging me to his chest.

How could I bear it, if you were my mate and resented me?” His fingers skated over my cheek. “Nothing in this world is permanent, except this: I love you. I have loved you for more years than you knew I existed. I watched you from a distance, on orders from the Emperor. But he didn’t order me to admire you. To respect the woman and protector you became, or to want nothing more than to keep you safe from the dangers you could not overcome alone. I want to make certain you have everything you desire… and what you want has never been riches or power. It’s freedom.

Heath's words echoed in my mind: all you care about is winning. He was right: that's who I was. But it wasn't who I'd always been. It was who I'd become, after a lifetime spent striving to be just like Sheila Lin. Like her, I'd discarded my past, my home, my family. I'd convinced myself if I became the best, it didn't matter who I hurt, because in the end, it would be worth it. Even if I hurt myself most of all. For all the years I'd spent obsessing about Sheila - first watching her on television, then skating for her, pushing myself to extremes for crumbs of praise - I'd never truly seen her. Not until that night, drinking in the dark in a Vancouver hotel room. And all I saw was misery. You can always be better, she'd said to me when we first met. But what was the point if you had everything and enjoyed nothing? Sheila's whole life had been spent grasping for more - more medals, more money, more power - and it would never be enough. Nothing's ever enough for you, Heath had said. He was wrong about that. I'd finally had enough, of the striving and the pain and the heartbreak. I didn't want to be Sheila Lin anymore. I didn't want to be Katarina Shaw either. I wanted to disappear.