Stoney Quotes

Hey, rock dude, are you destroying the house? Causing mayhem? Who’s a ferocious gargoyle? Stoney’s a ferocious gargoyle.

I think you're the kind of man a girl can count on. You just can't let go of losing your family. You can't let yourself love because you think your heart can't handle it . . . that something bad will happen. But you're wrong. It's true . . . grief is the price for love. But hearts are made to mend. Christ can do wonders with a broken heart, if given all the pieces.

What was home, really? Just a place to lay your head. No. It was so much more than that. It was a place where a person belonged. Where a fellow would be missed. It was a part of a man. Something that couldn't be sold or taken for granted.

Ron found his tongue before Bruce did. “When did you learn English?” Peter sat back with a confused look on his face. “I am not speaking English. I am speaking Stoney. Like you.” Ron shook his head, wrinkling his forehead in confusion. “No, we’re speaking English. So are you.” All five men sat in stunned silence and tried to puzzle out what was happening.

all the loose ends start coming together when you trust God both with your past and your future.

Kids never jumped head first from the top ledge. Never. It seemed forever before Stoney came back to the surface. Most of the white bubbles had already disappeared.

I tell the squad a joke: "Stop me if you're heard this. There was a Marine of nuts and bolts, half robot--weird but true--whose every move was cut from pain as though from stone. His stoney little hide had been crushed and broken. But he just laughed and said, 'I've been crushed and broken before.' And sure enough, he had the heart of a bear. His heart functioned for weeks after it had been diagnosed by doctors. His heart weighed half a pound. His heart pumped seven hundred thousand gallons of warm blood through one hundred thousand miles of veins, working hard--hard enough in twelve hours to lift one sixty-five ton boxcar one foot off the deck. He said. The world would not waste the heart of a bear, he said. On his clean blue pajamas many medals hung. He was a walking word of history, in the shop for a few repairs. He took it on the chin and was good. One night in Japan his life came out of his body--black--like a question mark. If you can keep your head while others are losing theirs perhaps you have misjudged the situation. Stop me if you've heard this...

Peanut butter, or turkey?” “Turkey. Soft on the mayo, extra mustard.” Rick lifted an eyebrow at her. “Do I look like a cook?” “You do until Vilseau comes back. Because anything beyond microwave pizza is your territory, sweetheart.” With a grin he began slathering mustard on one of the slices of bread. “Wonderful. So now I have to negotiate a multimillion-dollar deal and cook? Do you want tomatoes?” “Hell, yes, my darlin’.” “Ahem. Innocent bystander trying not to barf over here.” Stoney waved a hand at them from the doorway. “What’s the gig?” “Food first. Do you want Rick to make you a sandwich?” “Hey,” Rick protested.

Success gets to be a habit, like anything else a person keeps on doing.

Keep it real, even if they don't want to hear the truth!

Having my heart broke at such a early age made me not give a fuck about men. I learned to do them the way they do me and keep it moving

forgiveness was a process, that it didn’t happen overnight. She likened the process to filling a bucket of water at a well. God was the well, forgiveness was the water. Sometimes, she said, the bucket would be leaky and it would require numerous trips to the well. But the important thing, Sadie said, was to keep going to the well to fill the bucket.

Faint traces of other black churches are tucked away in handwritten ledgers at the state archives at Morrow; in the collections at the University of Georgia in Athens; even in the basement of the Forsyth courthouse, where a cardboard box atop a metal filing cabinet still holds deeds for the land on which black residents once founded Mt. Fair, Shakerag, and Stoney Point - about which nothing is known but names and approximate locations. All that can be said for certain is that, again and again in the fall of 1912, white men sloshed gasoline and kerosene onto the benches and wooden floors of such rooms, then backed out into the dark, tossing lit matches as they went. All over the county, beneath the ground on which black churches stood, the soil is rich with ashes.

Yeah,” Stoney muttered, “easy. Except for all the guns and the running around and the chance that somebody might try to follow you. Or that somebody might recognize you. You’ve been on TV, if you’ll recall.” “Ah, but I thought of that,” she returned, reaching into a sack beside her and pulling out a blonde wig. “I hope that thing’s bulletproof,” her former fence said dourly. She smiled at Rick. “Is it true, Mr. Addison?” she chirped, pulling on the headpiece. “Do billionaires prefer blondes?” He snorted, reaching across the table to twist a strand of the golden blonde hair in his fingers. “You look good in any color, Yank. If being blonde will get you out of the Met safely, then yes, today I prefer blondes.” She stood, leaning over to kiss him on his sensuous mouth. “Good answer.

His attorney, a pig-headed Yankee named Stoney, allowed himself to register his shock. "Too high?" He glanced down at the number Warren had written across the top of the appraisal. "That's absurd! It isn't high enough.

For I will take you out of the nations; I will gather you from all the countries and bring you back into your own land.s 25I will sprinklet clean water on you, and you will be clean; I will cleanseu you from all your impuritiesv and from all your idols.w 26I will give you a new heartx and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stoney and give you a heart of flesh.z 27And I will put my Spirita in you and move you to follow

Good content is the salesperson visitors don’t even know they want, and does a job that no salesperson can do: Sell without leaving your visitors feeling sold.

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The dumbest thing you could ever do is lose a good person

Keith’s former publicist from many years ago. In 2007, he’d been hired by political consultant Roger Stone—yes, that Roger Stone—to clean up Nxivm’s image. (Stone had worked at Nxivm for a short stint.

Maybe Stoney has a thing for strays. Or maybe, like most bartenders, he recognizes a lost soul when he sees one.

You have to be doubly foolish to be a Satanist,” Stoney muttered. “Doubly?” “Not only do you need to believe all the nonsense of Christian theology, you then have to turn around and back the preordained, guaranteed-to-fail, absolutely futile losing side.

I was the friend you can trust with all your darkest secrets

Do what makes you happy and don't regret a thing!

When I feel like giving up or frustrated with life that saying " It's not the end of the world " always kept me going.

That saying " It's not the end of the world " always kept me going when I felt like giving up.

I'll take a lot of shit to the grave before I tell a bitch anything!

If I could talk to my teenage self I would tell her to stay focus and play the boys to the left.

The woman I'm becoming cant be fucked with!

Pax huic domui

I no longer believe everything happens for a reason because about all that does is leave you angry at God. I know that was true for me. God never promises us answers to all our questions, but he does promise to be right there with us during our trials and tribulations.

Let's cause a fucking scene, Stoney. It's your birthday, and you can cry if you want to. Or vomit on the throne. Either will do.

I don't like to fake the funk with nobody. Cause at the end of the day it is what it is

Some shit you just have to charge to the game

If you cant keep it real with them. You don't need to fuck with them.

I've always been the black sheep. The only people that really loved me were my great grand parents.

I'm solid but don't ever play with me

I remember when I read one of JaQuavis Coleman books for the first time and instantly fell in love ! He one of my all time favorite authors.

Life too short to be putting on for the next bitch !

It's just something about Sade song Cherish The day. Every time it come on I get in this vibe and start feeling sexy as hell

My great grandmother always had my back no matter what, til this day she still do. I don't what I'll do without her !

I remember growing up I never wanted to be around my siblings. And would hate when they tried to follow me anywhere. Now I miss them like crazy !

When I was a little girl I used to cry myself to sleep at night wishing I could see or be with my daddy.

I set goals & try my best to achieve them before the month is over

Yoga is not killing the mind or making it dead or Stoney, but it is making the mind divine, compassionate and deeply peaceful, so that it can merge with the Infinity.

Some days I just don't want to be bothered by nothing or no one

When I was a teenager I used to write in my journal twice a day because I had no one to talk to. It always made me feel a little better and stopped writing in them at the age of 20.

Yoga is not stopping the mind and making it dead or Stoney, but yoga is making a divine, lighted, compassionate and peaceful mind.

Grandma always tell me it's not the end of the world when I'm feeling down about something

Make sure your energy on point when you approach me about anything

It gives one a sudden start in going down a barren, stoney street, to see upon a narrow strip of grass, just within the iron fence, the radiant dandelion, shining in the grass, like a spark dropped from the sun.

It wasn’t the first time I’d come across someone named Tickets. It’s actually quite a common nickname among amateur Australian sportsmen. There’s something beautifully simple and predictable about grade cricket nicknames. Those stockily built players are given the moniker ‘Nugget’. My ‘Nugget’ was the sole exception to this law, on the basis that his actual name was ‘Alan Nugget’. Someone with a strong sense of self-belief will usually have the name ‘Tickets’ bestowed upon them, as this bloke did, to indicate that he has purchased ‘tickets’ on himself, such is his confidence. On a similar tangent, one bloke I played with had the nickname ‘Bridgestone’ — a reference to the old Bridgestone Tires slogan: ‘Bridgestone: That’s Confidence’. This was narrowed to either ‘Bridgey’ or ‘Stoney’ whenever he was bowling. He was an absolute nightmare of a bloke — arrogant as fuck — but the ‘Bridgestone’ nickname was our affectionate way of telling him so. Naturally, all ‘Daves’ are nicknamed ‘Danger’ — an abbreviated version of ‘Dangerous Dave’ — just as all Rods are automatically known as ‘Rocket’. Those new to the club are generally just referred to by their initials (i.e. ‘great fielding, JP’) until further notice. At one club I played at, there were three blokes called Nugget and four blokes called Tickets. Needless to say it got a bit confusing at times.

beachfront boardwalk stretches for miles – a great place for exercise and sun. Some of the beaches are stoney, so be careful. Also, for the more straight laced among us, be aware that topless areas and clothing optional beaches are often unmarked. Barcelona has a wonderful buzz that is infectious. This means that the lone traveller should never really feel alone. Downside: Barcelona is the pickpocket capital of Europe. Carry nothing of value in your pockets or handbag. A body pouch is a certain necessity in this city. To read: Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruis Zafon. Set at the end of World War II but a little Gothic in nature, this novel tells of a boy taken by his father to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books and given the opportunity to choose one title. As he moves into adulthood, he finds someone else, someone with dark designs, also seeks this book.

Unmov’d Maria saw the splendid suite Of rival captives sighing at her feet, Till in her cause his sword young Stoney drew, And to avenge, the gallant wooer flew! Bravest amongst the Brave! – and first to prove By death! or conquests! who best knew to love! But pale and faint the wounded lover lies, While more than pity fills Maria’s eyes! In her soft breast, where passion long had strove, Resistless sorrow fix’d the reign of love! ‘Dear youth,’ she cries, ‘we meet no more to part! Then take thy honour’s due – my bleeding heart!’ ~ Mary Eleanor Bowes

Still, I wish there existed a meat cleaver I could simply hand to some sort of metaphysical butcher who could lop off the part of me that committed these crimes, and who could send that part off packing to the stoney lonesome. Then the rest of me — the other ninety-nine percent — the part that is a devoted father, a decent neighbour, a dedicated husband, and a caring, useful member of my community could go home.