Swansea Quotes

According to research conducted jointly by experts from the University of California at Berkeley and Swansea University in Wales, no fewer than 150,000 Twitter accounts linked to Russia began to tweet inflammatory and divisive messages about Brexit, Muslims, and immigrants

I authorize an air strike that reduces my street to rubble; I fold Swansea Bay like an enormous omelette and scoff it all

Swansea is a town where art is alive. If it became a cultural centre or a resort where art was fashionable and where it was always being discussed but never being created, it would be a town where art was dead... There is no room in Swansea to be pompous without becoming ludicrous, and all the pompous aspects of Swansea are ludicrous; but the town itself, the town of windows between hills and the sea, is unforgettable. What should Swansea become? It should, I think, generate its own species and become what it is now, a town where art is alive.

Let me see: There's Miss Garnnett in Ireland, in June of 1770; Miss Nightjar in Swansea on April 3, 1901; Miss Avocet and Miss Bunting together in Derbyshire on Saint Swithin's Day of 1867; Miss Treecreeper I don't remmeber where exactly-- oh, and dear Miss Finch.

In Wales, they love with abandon. When a Welsh person loves you, you'll finally know your potential. They are different from the Americans, who are precarious with their love. They are different from the English, who are reserved even when you stand in front of them, naked, handing them your heart. The English give you their love in cups: here, you’ve been good. drink another glass. But the Welsh, they drown you in an ocean of love. You have their attention, their consideration. You have all of them. They aren’t even careful to keep any for themselves. It seems to me that only the Welsh know how to love, how to make someone feel loved. Because when a Welsh person loves you, you’ll finally know how it feels to belong to poetry.

De örömét, kedvét, melyet szólamaiban lelt, lelkesedését a fiatalság lángolásáért, felesége szépségéért, Swansea-ból, Carddiffból, Exeterből, Southamptonból, Kidderminsterből, Oxfordból, Cambridge-ből érkező elismeréseket - mindezt el kell ítélnie, az "ostobaságok" frázisa alá kell rejtenie, mert valójában nem azt csinálja, amit csinálhatott volna. Álarcot visel. Ez az álarc egy riadt ember menedéke, aki fél saját érzéseitől, nem meri kimondani: Ezt szeretem - ez vagyok; mindez meglehetősen szánalmas és visszataszító William Bankes és Lily Briscoe előtt, akik nem értik, mire való ez a szerepjátszás; miért van szüksége mindig dicséretre, hogy az ilyen bátor gondolkodású ember miért ennyire félénk az életben; milyen különös, hogy egyszerre tiszteletre méltó is, nevetséges is.

In 2011 in Swansea, Wales, Colin Batley was found guilty of 35 charges relating to his role as the leader of a 'satanic cult' that sexually abused children and women, manufactured child abuse images and forced children and women into prostitution (de Bruxelles 2011). His partner and two other women were also convicted on related charges, with one man convicted of paying to abuse a victim of the group. The groups' ritualistic activities were based on the doctrine of Aleister Crowley, an occult figure whose writing includes references to ritual sex with children. Crowley's literature has been widely linked to the practice of ritualistic abuse by survivors and their advocates, who in turn have been accused by occult groups of religious persecution. During Batley's trial, the prosecution claimed that Crowley's writings formed the basis of Batley's organisation and he read from a copy of it during sexually abusive incidents. It seems that alternative as well as mainstream religious traditions can be misused by sexually abusive groups. p38

His expression was perturbed, as if he’d been reminded of something he had wanted to forget. But as his gaze slid over her bewildered face, his mouth curved a little, and he settled into the cradle of her body with an insolent familiarity that temporarily robbed her of breath. “Mr. Rohan … how … why … what are you doing here?” He replied without moving, as if he were planning to lie there and converse all day. His infinitely polite tone was an unsettling contrast to the intimacy of their position. “Miss Hathaway. What a pleasant surprise. As it happens, I’m visiting friends. And you?” “I live here.” “I don’t think so. This is Lord Westcliff’s estate.” Her heart thundered in her breast as her body absorbed the details of him. “I didn’t mean precisely here, I meant over there, on the other side of the woods. The Ramsay estate. We’ve just taken up residence.” She couldn’t seem to stop herself from chattering in the aftermath of nerves and fright. “What was that noise? What were you doing? Why do you have that tattoo on your arm? It’s a pooka—an Irish creature—isn’t it?” That last question earned her an arrested stare. Before Rohan could reply, the other two men approached. From her prone position, Amelia had an upside-down view of them. Like Rohan, they were in their shirtsleeves, with waistcoats left unbuttoned. One of them was a portly old gentleman with a shock of silver hair. He held a small wood-and-metal sextant, which had been strung around his neck on a lanyard. The other, black-haired man looked to be in his late thirties. He wasn’t as tall as Rohan, but he had an air of authority tempered with aristocratic arrogance. Amelia made a helpless movement, and Rohan lifted away from her with fluid ease. He helped her stand, his arm steadying her. “How far did it go?” he asked the men. “Devil take the rocket,” came a gravelly reply. “What is the woman’s condition?” “Unharmed.” The silver-haired gentleman remarked, “Impressive, Rohan. You covered a distance of fifty yards in no more than five or six seconds.” “I would hardly miss a chance to leap on a beautiful woman,” Rohan said, causing the older man to chuckle.

CONTAINMENT: An honest-to-goodness stay-up-all-night page-turner, blessed with a vivid sense of character and place.” Dr A.J. Bilton, (Swansea University creative writing department and author of ‘The Sleepwalkers Ball’ & ‘The Known and Unknown Sea’).

In his four months in England, wrote Corwin, “I did not once interview a high government official. The main objective of the series was to establish the character of the British people and not disseminate the handouts of the Ministry of Information. The people were soldiers, sailors, workers, miners, the theater manager, the elevator man, Police Officer Gilbert, the Everingtons, the Westerbys, Betty Hardy the actress, Henry Blogg the lifesaver, Mary Seaton the newspaperwoman, the RAF officer who handed me a dish in the mess and explained, ‘This sausage is made of two ingredients—paper and sawdust’; the navigator, just returned from Wilhelmshaven, who said wistfully, ‘Somehow we’re always first in over the target’; the woman in Swansea who went to the Guildhall one morning following a severe blitz and turned in two suits of clothes, both nearly new, saying she had bought them for her two boys, killed in the raid.

Is this about a woman?" Liam managed to keep his face straight. "A gentleman would never say." Lord Swansea chuckled. "Ah. Diplomatically stated. It is most definitely a women, then. Looking to set up your nursery, eh?

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The tiger had stalked the spotted deer, brought it down with a pounce, and clamped the back of its neck in its jaws. Women and even a few men had grimaced and exclaimed in horror as Swansea described how the tiger had proceeded to eat the chital while it was still alive. “The vicious beast!” one of the women had gasped. But as soon as Amelia Hathaway entered the room, Cam had found himself entirely in sympathy with the tiger. There was nothing he wanted more than to bite the tender back of her neck and drag her to some private place where he could feast on her for hours.

Just before the Hathaways had arrived, Captain Swansea, who had spent four years serving in India, had been regaling some of the guests with an account of a tiger hunt in Vishnupur. The tiger had stalked the spotted deer, brought it down with a pounce, and clamped the back of its neck in its jaws. Women and even a few men had grimaced and exclaimed in horror as Swansea described how the tiger had proceeded to eat the chital while it was still alive. “The vicious beast!” one of the women had gasped. But as soon as Amelia Hathaway entered the room, Cam had found himself entirely in sympathy with the tiger. There was nothing he wanted more than to bite the tender back of her neck and drag her to some private place where he could feast on her for hours.

Rohan returned, his breath quickened from exertion. A mist of sweat had accumulated on his skin until it gleamed like bronze. “Right on course,” he said to Westcliff and Swansea. “The stabilizing fins worked. It landed at a distance of approximately two thousand yards.” “Excellent!” Swansea exclaimed. “But where is the rocket?” Rohan’s white teeth flashed in a grin. “Buried in a deep, smoking hole. I’ll go back to dig it up later.” “Yes, we’ll want to see the condition of the casing and the inner core.” Swansea was red-faced with satisfaction. He used a handkerchief to blot his steaming, wrinkled countenance. “It’s been an exciting morning, eh?” “Perhaps it’s time to return to the manor, Captain,” Westcliff suggested. “Yes, quite.” Swansea bowed to Amelia. “A pleasure, Miss Hathaway. And may I say, you took it rather well, being the target of a surprise attack.” “The next time I visit, Captain,” she said, “I’ll remember to bring my white flag.

Let me see: There’s Miss Gannett in Ireland, in June of 1770; Miss Nightjar in Swansea on April 3, 1901; Miss Avocet and Miss Bunting together in Derbyshire on Saint Swithin’s Day of 1867; Miss Treecreeper I don’t remember where exactly—oh, and dear Miss Finch. Somewhere I have a lovely photograph of her.

Emblazoned across the back was THE AMAZING STRONG-GIRL OF SWANSEA!

Did you know he was an old friend of Monica Minter?" I don't think that's an business of yours or mine. You thought it was your business in Swansea last Saturday, when you were having an argument with Mrs. Minter? "Were you spying on me?" Not at all. I was spying on Monica Minter. His mouth fell open.

their arms and legs about, but some individuals can experience sleep talking, shouting, screaming or even physical violence. Unfortunately, RBD is most often acted upon after harm has been caused to a sleeping partner.41 A famous, and widely reported case in the UK media, involved Brian Thomas, a ‘decent and devoted’ husband who strangled and killed his wife while on holiday. In his dream he was attacking an intruder, but in reality, and very sadly, it was his wife. The Crown Prosecution Service accepted he had not been in control of his actions and the jury at Swansea crown court were ordered to acquit Thomas. The only thing that Mr Thomas remembered of his dream was the break-in by an intruder.

But in 1667, the court granted them the town of Swansea, where the church has continued by succession ever since, and is the fourth Baptist church in America.

As to the impact of all the “active measures” undertaken by Russia leading up to the 2016 election, it is difficult to quantify exactly how much they changed the outcome of the presidential race. However, according to the study by the University of California at Berkeley and Swansea University in Wales, automated tweeting alone by thousands of bots added 3.23 percentage points to Trump’s vote in the US presidential race.77

Just as she began to consider the idea of venturing to the front threshold, Rohan and Frost emerged from the house with the emptied canisters and were immediately approached by Captain Swansea. Amelia hurried forward with a cry of gladness, fully intending to stop once she reached them. Which was why it was a surprise when her legs insisted on carrying her forward. Rohan dropped the canister and caught her tightly. “Easy, hummingbird.” She had lost his coat and her shawl somewhere amid the impetuous dash. The cold night air pierced the thin layer of her gown, causing her to shiver hard. He gripped her more closely, easing her into the pungent fragrance of smoke and sweat. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear, his hand tracing warm circles on her back.

The sun was shining brightly on the day that I died. It blazed from the heavens. It sang from the skies. On a day the world seemed born again, the HMS Nightingale met her end. She took us with her, every one of us: the Old Man, me, the Doc, the Chief, the babyfaced killer in A-Turret, the fat man from Swansea, all the rest. She took us to the bottom. Saved our souls.

The railroad, when it came, would meet high expectations. It came quickly enough, but before the necessary technologies converged into a successful system, variety flourished. Passengers were first carried on 25 March 1807 on the Oystermouth Tramroad on the Gower Peninsula in Swansea, northwest of Cardiff in Wales. The cars were horse-drawn, and the operator paid tolls to the company that owned the road.

Nine clubs have never been relegated from the Premier League. They are Arsenal, Bournemouth, Chelsea, Everton, Liverpool, Manchester United, Stoke City, Swansea City and Tottenham Hotspur.

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