Tad Quotes

Like driving along a bumpy road and losing control of the steering wheel, tossing you—just a tad—off the road. The wheels kick up some dirt, but you're able to pull it back. Yet no matter how hard you try to drive straight, something keeps jerking you to the side. You have so little control over anything anymore. And at some point, the struggle becomes too much—too tiring—and you consider letting go. Allowing tragedy... or whatever... to happen.

As for monkeys, I would have five, and they would be named: See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil, Do Pretty Much Whatever The Hell You Want, and Expensive Attorney.

Do they always flirt with biblical quotes?" Asil asked Tad. In long-suffering tones, Tad said, "They can flirt with the periodic table or a restaurant menu. We've learned to live with it. Get a room you guys.

He who is certain he knows the ending of things when he is only beginning them is either extremely wise or extremely foolish; no matter which is true, he is certainly an unhappy man, for he has put a knife in the heart of wonder.

I miss someone who gets me. I called a woman on my research team a bitch – you know in a friendly way – and she told me to go to hell. And I think she really meant it.” “Rhian, we’ve talked about this. Normal people don’t like to be called names. For some reason, they tend to take is personally. And you are a tad bitchy, by the way. “Normal people are so sensitive.

Never make your home in a place. Make a home for yourself inside your own head. You'll find what you need to furnish it- memory, friends you can trust, love of learning, and other such things. That way it will go with you wherever you journey.

Obstreperous, ‘huh,” said Tad. “I see you’ve been using that Big Word of the Day calendar I got you last Christmas.” “That is irrefragable,” I told him solemnly.

S Tugom jednostavno treba umeti... Tuga je kao starica koja prodaje karanfile po kafanama, samo se uporno moraš praviti da je ne primećuješ pa će se kad tad okrenuti i otići, iako ti se u prvi mah čini da će zauvek cvileti kraj stola... I, pazi... Pokloniš li joj samo mrvicu pažnje neće se smiriti dok ti ne uvali čitavu korpu... I onda si gotov... Jer Tuga nikada ne zaboravlja lica galantnih mušterija... I nikada te više neće zaobići.

Carried away. He got a little carried away. This is like saying Hitler was a tad aggressive.

Alexia suspected Lord Maccon's handling was a tad more than was strictly called for under the circumstances, but she secretly enjoyed the sensation. After all, how often did a spinster of her shelf life get manhandled by an earl of Lord Maccon's peerage? She had better take advantage of the situation.

We are none of us promised anything but the last breath we take.

Un tādas lielas laimes nemaz nav. Ja jums to vēl, tad ziniet: tie ir nieki. Ir tikai tādas mazas laimītes. Ir tikai tādi mazi ikdienības prieki.

You are only a prisoner when you surrender.

Anyway, seeking work is a tad difficult given the poor design of the streets with their prohibitive curbs and driveways that don't quite line up.

Pitao jednom tako jednoga vrli pitac neki: A kto je ta sta je ta da prostis Gdje li je ta Odakle je Kuda je ta Bosna Rekti A zapitani odgovor njemu hitan tad dade: Bosna da prostis jedna zemlja imade I posna i bosa da prostis I hladna i gladna I k tomu jos Da prostis Prkosna Od Sna

We tell lies when we are afraid... afraid of what we don't know, afraid of what others will think, afraid of what will be found out about us. But every time we tell a lie, the thing that we fear grows stronger.

Hey, Ms. P," Tad called, "what's going on?" She let out a slow breath before she answered. "You won't believe this... Brian Murrey tried to eat Scott Morgan." Nick's eyes widened at the unexpected explanation. Had he heard that right?

A piece of writing is a trap,” he said cheerily, “and the best kind. A book, you see, is the only kind of trap that keeps its captive—which is knowledge—alive forever.

She had to find her own story, and she could make it whatever shape she thought best.

Books are a form of magic—” the doctor lifted the volume he had just laid on the stack, “—because they span time and distance more surely than any spell or charm.

Roland studied her a bit more, a tad too intently. "Perhaps you and I shall get to work with each other a bit, Lillian. Your position intrigues me." She wouldn't mind working with him - but not in the way Roland meant. Her way would include a dagger, a shovel, and an unmarked grave.

Tā dzīvoju mēnešiem. Laidu akmentiņus caur pirkstiem: neviens neiemirdzas. Situ ar āmuru pa pirkstiem: neviens nesāp. Un tad tu parādījies!

I have begun to notice that I don’t even enjoy folks who aren’t at least a tad mentally ill. I don’t wish folks without a little anxiety or depression any harm, I just don’t find myself particularly curious about them. I have come to believe that we “crazies” are the best people.

...Coca-Cola and fries, the wafer and wine of the Western religion of commerce.

Oh, good lord, Jeff. Don't go getting all emotional on me. I've been getting it from my mom, my dad, my sister, the freaking MAILMAN--I don't need it from you, too. All I ask is that you promise me one thing.' 'What?' 'Just water the plants while I'm gone, all right?' 'You don't have plants, Tad.' 'I know. I just always wanted to say that.

Remember that each light between sunrise and sunset is worth dying for at least once.

Whatever my ancestors did to you, none of them consulted me.

He had once thought it was strange to have a friend you'd never met. Now it was even stranger, losing a friend you'd never really had

Has everyone gone mad?” “Everyone was mad already, my lady,” Cadrach said with a strange, sorrowful smile. “It is merely that the times have brought it out in them.

"Heard you choking, are you all right?" "You're beautiful, a good kisser, this is our first date, my bed is in the room, I'm nervous as all heck and I just thought I was going to die choking after spitting out gum so no, I'm not all right." Yes, that's what I blurted, word for word. Chace stared at me. I stared back both wondering if I could will myself to melt like the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz and if that was what Laurie meant by honesty or if it was a tad over the top. (...) Then his tongue was in my mouth. (...) "Still nervous?" "No," I whispered. "Good," he muttered.

What I love most about my home is who I share it with.

Taste ... is a matter of taste (Tad Allagash)

Elder Neal A. Maxwell suggests that the prime reason the Savior personally acts as the gatekeeper of the celestial kingdom is not to exclude people, but to personally welcome and embrace those who have made it back home.

A man who will not listen carefully to advice honestly given is a fool. Of course, a man who blindly takes any advice he receives is a bigger fool.

Tad's mission in life is to have more fun than anyone else in New York City, and this involves a lot of moving around, since there is always the likelihood that where you aren't is more fun than where you are.

Scientists are slowly waking up to an inconvenient truth - the universe looks suspiciously like a fix. The issue concerns the very laws of nature themselves. For 40 years, physicists and cosmologists have been quietly collecting examples of all too convenient "coincidences" and special features in the underlying laws of the universe that seem to be necessary in order for life, and hence conscious beings, to exist. Change any one of them and the consequences would be lethal. Fred Hoyle, the distinguished cosmologist, once said it was as if "a super-intellect has monkeyed with physics". To see the problem, imagine playing God with the cosmos. Before you is a designer machine that lets you tinker with the basics of physics. Twiddle this knob and you make all electrons a bit lighter, twiddle that one and you make gravity a bit stronger, and so on. It happens that you need to set thirtysomething knobs to fully describe the world about us. The crucial point is that some of those metaphorical knobs must be tuned very precisely, or the universe would be sterile. Example: neutrons are just a tad heavier than protons. If it were the other way around, atoms couldn't exist, because all the protons in the universe would have decayed into neutrons shortly after the big bang. No protons, then no atomic nucleuses and no atoms. No atoms, no chemistry, no life. Like Baby Bear's porridge in the story of Goldilocks, the universe seems to be just right for life.

Nije svatko kovac svog zivota. Nije nitko. Na neke stvari mozes utjecati, na neke ne. Nesto kujes, a nesto nosis kako ti je skovano. No, i jedno i drugo, i to sto kujes i to sto ti je skovano, zapravo su okovi. Sanduk iz kojeg ces kad tad morati izvuci ruku ili ces biti uhvacen.

All I’ve ever done was all I ever could. Wait. For you to open your eyes and see me. Really see me. Standing here. Waiting. For you.

Tangaloor, fire-bright Flame-foot, farthest walker Your hunter speaks In need he walks In need, but never in fear.

Katrai dienai ir uzliesmojums. Ja tu visu dienu esi gājis un neesi to redzējis, tad gaidi. Nemirkšķini acis. Varbūt tas notiek tai brīdī, kad tavas acis aizmirkšķinās.

Tad socked him. Hard. Twice. Someday the bad guys would realize monologues were a bad thing.

Do they always flirt with biblical quotes?” Asil asked Tad. In long-suffering tones, Tad said, “They can flirt with the periodic table or a restaurant menu. We’ve learned to live with it. Get a room, you guys.” “Quiet, pup,” said Adam with mock sternness. He gave my butt a promissory pat as he said, “Respect your elders.

Jack linked her arm with Irene’s. “Good. You deserve to be happy, sweetie. Now what about his Pack?” “They look frightened and I have absolutely no idea why. I’m nothing but appropriately pleasant.” “Price you pay as the new Alpha Female.” “I understand all that, but running from the room every time I walk in seems a tad harsh, wouldn’t you say?” “You do have a point.

Editors can be stupid at times. They just ignore that author’s intention. I always try to read unabridged editions, so much is lost with cut versions of classic literature, even movies don’t make sense when they are edited too much. I love the longueurs of a book even if they seem pointless because you can get a peek into the author’s mind, a glimpse of their creative soul. I mean, how would people like it if editors came along and said to an artist, ‘Whoops, you left just a tad too much space around that lily pad there, lets crop that a bit, shall we?’. Monet would be ripping his hair out.

I refused to continue to trip over hurdles that I knew I could jump over. I had to ask God to give me a tad bit more height, strength, determination, and endurance to jump over the hurdles and complete this journey.

Confident. Cocky. Lazy. Dead.

For Every Fierce Woman Who Has Tried To Be Tame I know you. I know that you have always felt different –a little bit more restless than perhaps you ought to be as a child. A little less timid, a tad bit too brash. I know you’ve grown up with inklings of suspicion –that your mind does not work the way it should, perhaps. Your thoughts whirl around at strange speeds and you cannot seem to reel yourself in.

You show me what someone listens to, I’ll tell you everything you want to know about his soul. (For instance, a bunch of Nickelback albums would have indicated he never had a soul in the first place.)

I said, "Jesse, don't flatter yourself that I did this for you. I mean, it has been nothing but one giant pain in the neck, having you for a roommate. Do you think I like having to come home from school or from work or whatever and having to explain stuff like the Bay of Pigs to you? Believe me, life with you is no picnic." He didn't say anything. He just kept pulling me along. "Or what about Tad?" I said, bringing up what I knew was a sore subject. "I mean, you think I like having you tag along on my dates? Having you out of my life is going to make things a lot simpler, so don't think, you know, I did this for you. I only did it because that stupid cat of yours has been crying its head off. And also because anything I can do to make your stupid girlfriend mad, I will." "Nombre de Dios, Susannah," Jesse muttered. "Maria's not my girlfriend." "Well, she certainly used to be," I said. "And what about that, anyway? That girl is a full-on skank, Jesse. I can't believe you ever agreed to marry her. I mean, what were you thinking, anyway? Couldn't you see what she was like underneath all that lace?

the road to Heaven is paved with bullshit and busy work.

Every man is the hero of his own song.

I met this boy here who I knew as a kid and his mum left him with a pedophile for two weeks when he was eight years old and I'm presuming you know everything there is to know about Jonah's father, and that my father is dead, and my mother hasn't been around for years, and God knows Jessa's real story. So what I'm saying here, Sergeant, is that we're just a tad low on the reliable adult quota so you have no right to be all self-righteous about what Chaz did and if you're going to go around not talking to him when his only crime was wanting me to have what he has, then I think you're going to turn out to be a bit of a dud and you know something? I'm just a bit over life's little disappointments right now. Do you understand what I'm saying?

Dad scowls. "Phen." He says the name like it's a swear word. "Disgusting, cowardly creatures, the ambivalent. Worse than the fallen, in many ways." His eyes are so fierce it's a tad scary. "They have no conviction at all.

Ah? A small aversion to menial labor?" The doctor cocked an eyebrow. "Understandable, but misplaced. One should treasure those hum-drum tasks that keep the body occupied but leave the mind and heart unfettered.

People in science fiction flicks always seemed to know useful things about the places time travel took them. But what if the time traveler had been only an average history student? What then?

Not fair? Oh, I'm sorry I get this lovely laptop computing device when all you get is the ability to walk, control your hands, and know you'll survive until your eighteenth birthday." Then the kid was going, "Uh, I didn't mean..." But Tad wasn't done yet. While the whole class watched in horror, he put his hands through the metal support braces on the arms of his wheelchair and forced himself to stand up. Then he took a shaky little step to the side, gestured toward the chair, and said, "Why don't you take a turn with the laptop? You can even have my seat.

Is there a reason we’re taking the alley?” he asked. “The air is a tad ripe out here.” “Unfriendly eyes out front.” “Enforcers?” “A ten-year-old boy.” “Oh, yes. Terrifying.” “He’s someone’s spy,” she said.

She made you smile.” “Aye. Rhiannon always makes me smile.” Shalin dropped her head against her son’s chest. “Dark gods, I’ve lost you forever.” Bercelak rolled his eyes. “I think, Mother, that’s a tad extreme.

Scott’s crown reached Tad’s prostate but didn’t stop, instead grinding across it as it made its way by. “Unnngh-UH!” The last of Tad’s groan came out on a burst. Licking bliss tore up his channel and straight into his dick. Blood pumped furiously along the veins of his shaft, his sack fighting futilely to lift. But that fucking ball ring wouldn’t yield at all. Tad grimaced, pelvis writhing. Scott growled and gripped his hips tighter. “Fuck, Tad. The way your ass is letting me in… Accepting me… Swallowing me down… I’ve never seen anything so hot.

Not everyone can stand up and be a hero, Princess. Some prefer to surrender to the inevitable and salve their consciences with the gift of survival.

Stairs. This is Hell. Hell is stairs, was all Theo could think. I'd sell my soul for a goddamn elevator. But I don't have a soul, do I? I'm some kind of fairy. Okay, settle for an escalator, then.

You always want one more day. You always want one more picture as the old ones begin to fade. You always want that one final hug to have lasted just a tad longer. You always want the fondness of the remember-whens to outnumber the might-have-beens. You want more years, more months, more weeks, more days, more minutes, and more seconds. You want the happily ever after you always thought you deserved, but the only thing actually promised in this life is uncertainty.

Just get up. What's your name, kid?" "G-man" "I don't mean your codename down at the Dickhead Club. What does it say on your driver's license?

What does that mean, 'real'? Amn't I real, you? If you cut me, do I not bleed? If you piss me off, will I not kick you up the arse?

We become like those things we habitually love and admire. And thus, as we study Christ's life and live his teachings, we become more like him.

God, it was absolutely undeniable. He'd won for losing on the most monumental level. Because in losing he'd ultimately won Scott.

I'm tired of being lost and I'm tired of dying, so I'm going to try something different this time.

A teenage girl creaming while she listens to some boy-band, a monk digging on the God he hears in Gregorian chants, or John fucking Coltrane himself climbing up into the sky on a staircase made of sixteenth notes, it's all the same. If it takes you there, it's good.

-You're pretty hard-boiled, Tinker Bell. -Call me that name again and you'll be wondering how your bollocks wound up lodged in your windpipe--from below. Just because we don't get to your side of things much anymore doesn't mean we don't know anything. 'If you believe in fairies, clap your hands!' If you believe in fairies, kiss my rosy pink arse is more like it. Now are you going to shut your gob or not?

But our own selves are like pearls, created by layer after layer of present laid over past until the original thing is completely hidden.

There is no such thing as an accident. That's what science is all about. (...) There are only patterns we don't yet recognize.

Sana koşuyorum bir vapurun içinde Ölmemek, delirmemek için. Yaşamak; bütün adetlerden uzak Yaşamak.... Hayır değil, değil sıcak Dudakların hatırası; Değil saçlarının kokusu Hiçbiri değil. Dünyada büyük fırtınaların koptuğu böyle günlerde Ben onsuz edemem. Eli elimin içinde olmalı, Gözlerine bakmalıyım, Sesini işitmeliyim. Beraber yemek yemeliyiz Ara sıra gülmeliyiz. Yapamam onsuz edemem. Bana su, bana ekmek, bana zehir; Bana tad, bana uyku Gibi gelen çirkin kızım. Sensiz edemem.

Skulduggery: It would be a tad redudant to encourage you to hurry up, wouldn't it? Whatever you do, do not fall over. Falling over, I think, would be the wrong move to make at this moment Valkyrie: Hate... Skulduggery: Yes? Valkyrie: Hate... You... Skulduggery: Breathe some more air, the lack of oxygen is making you delirious.

Was Briony the only person who could hear the venom dripping from the woman’s tongue? What good was beauty — a mature beauty, but beauty nonetheless — if it cloaked such a viperous soul?

It's amazing the stupid things I say sometimes. I mean, you could start an entire branch of scientific research about the stuff I say that gets proved wrong while I'm still busy saying it.

So we face our final hours...and all that was once certain has become uncertain. Except for defeat. That, as always, is the end of all our stories.

The man of integrity who is true to self and to God will choose the right whether or not anyone is looking because he is self-driven, not externally controlled.

If you wish to carry a hungry weasel in your pocket, it is your choice.

Lizbeth?" He barks from the balcony. "Guess what I just caught our daughter doing? Experimenting with beastiality-- with a bird! And you can probably guess which daughter.

The Atonement of Jesus Christ outweighs, surpasses, and transcends every other mortal event, every new discovery, and every acquisition of knowledge, for without the Atonement all else in life is meaningless.

After all, is it not the way we humans shape the universe, shape time itself? Do we not take the raw stuff of chaos and impose a beginning, middle, and end on it, like the simplest and most profound of folktales, to reflect the shapes of our own tiny lives? And if the physicists are right, that the physical world changes as it is observed, and we are its only known observers, then might we not be bending the entire chaotic universe, the eternal, ever-active Now, to fit that familiar form?

See, vodka, that’s drinking. Beer—well, beer is just getting the inside of your mouth wet.

Sometimes I talk about baseball just to annoy people who don’t understand it.

Experience came easily enough, learning how not to suffer would have proved much more practical.

Znam, ponekad sam neprijatan, dobro, često sam neprijatan, mučim vas. Ali koga da mučim ako neću vas? Vi ste mi najbliži, volim vas oboje, i imam prava da budem neprijatan. U čudnom sam rasploženju, vjerujem da i vi imate časova koji su gori od drugih, samo što sam ja luđi od vas pa stvaram probleme i tamo gdje ih nema, kidam se bez razloga i tad se iskaljujem na vama. E pa, pretrpite se malo, prijatelji ste mi, poslije ću se ja vama staviti na raspolaganje. Zasad ste jači od mene, i ne ljutite se, primite me ovakvog nikakvog, dok ne dođem sebi.

Hi, Tad!' she said. 'Hi, Jeff! Hey, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?' 'Uh, no,' I said. 'We were just...I mean, Tad was...uh, nope.' 'So what were you guys talking about?' 'Well,' I said, 'it's very complicated. We were discussing...umm...hats. You know, hats. Like, the head kind.' 'There's another kind?' Lindsey asked. 'Hey, Jeff?' Tad said. 'If your mom needs any evidence to prove that you're retarded, let me know. I'd be glad to record you talking to Lindsey. I'm pretty sure that would do the trick.

All people know the Greater Hunger...It is the hunger for warmth, for family, for connection to the stars and the earth and other living things..." "For love?" Renie asked. "Yes, I suppose that could be true.

If your enemy comes to speak bearing a sword, open your door to him and speak, but keep your own sword at hand. If he comes to you empty-handed, greet him the same way. But if he comes to you bearing gifts, stand on your walls and cast stones down on him.

I haven't met that many women, human or angelic, who actually like to drive. In my experience they seem to be much more pragmatic about the whole thing than we are. For most males, driving is an extension of their masculinity; they have little fantasy scenarios going all the time - races, chases, and dramatic combat with other drivers. Females, on the other hand, generally seem to view driving as something you do to get somewhere. I know, crazy.

Integrity is the very core of our being. It is who we really are. When all the scaffolding is removed, it is our integrity that both defines us and identifies us. Men of integrity are like the Rock of Gibraltar—steadfast and immovable. Men without it are like the shifting sands on the Sahara Desert—tossed to and fro by every variant wind of life.

Thank God for, as I posted earlier, the glow of work accomplished. Because a few seconds later, someone on the internet mentioned pie. I don’t blame them. It’s a good subject. But pie was mentioned and I remembered there was strawberry-rhubarb pie in the refrigerator. So I went there. And pie there was none. I suspect the teenaged boy has inhaled it. And now I cling to life and hope as best I can, because my world is dark and pieless.

Our lives aren't even about doing real things most of the time. We think and talk about people we've never met, pretend to visit places we've never actually been, to discuss things that are just names as though they were as real as rocks or animals or something. Information Age. Hell it's the Imagination Age. We're living in our own minds. No, she decided as the plane began its steep descent, really we're living in other people's minds.

Bir gün bir postanede rastlaşmış iki insanın birbirlerinden alabildiğine hoşlanmış olmaları güzel geçici bir rastlantı mı yalnızca? “Birine rastlamış, sevmiş, tad almıştım, şimdi geçti, hiçbir iz kalmadı bende.” denebiliyorsa, bu rastlantıyı unutmak, hiç olmamış saymak gerekmez mi? Benim sana, senin bana verdiğimiz yalnızca bir adsa, bu alışveriş niçin bir “Hadi eyvallah!”la bitmesin? Ben yalnızca senin için güzel olacaksam, sana beğendirmek için kendimi, olanları umursamayıp en güzel bakışımla geleceksem yatağına, sen bütün bunları unutturacaksan bana, unutturmak için hiç bakmayacaksan pencereden, o kısa unutma anından sonra, vücutlarımızın bize acı veren gerginliğini giderdikten sonra bu pencereyi kapatarak unuttuğumuz, dışında, uzağında kaldığımız dünya nasıl yabancımız olursa, öyle yabancı oluruz birbirimize. Bir kısa anın ardından ayrı yönlere giden trenlere bineriz. Ya da o trenlere bile yetişemeyip tükenmişin üstünde çoğalırız.

Many a person over the years has tried- both successfully and unsuccessfully, to get rid of their inner demons. Those who are successful are deemed artists, those who are not are call dreamers at best and lunatics at worse. But where exactly resides that line on which two worlds collide? Does somebody know? Is somebody fit to tell? Who's to say that those deemed lunatics are not just successes on the making? Who says that those who claim to be just a tad bit crazy are not just as crazy as those that had completely lost it? Maybe, and bear with me here…everyone is as crazy as the one before them and the next one could ever possibly be. Maybe at the end- it's just that some have mastered creating a façade of calmness and collection while others don't bother going through all that trouble anymore, if they ever did. Perhaps we all have demons…it's just that some people have demons far more toxic and difficult to ignore than others.

Even the king's Erkynguard might have wished to be elsewhere, rather than here on this killing ground where duty brought them and loyalty prisoned them. Only the mercenaries were here by choice. To Simon, the minds of men who would come to this of their own will were suddenly as incomprehensible as the thoughts of spiders or lizards—less so, even, for the small creatures of the earth almost always fled from danger. These were madmen, Simon realized, and that was the direst problem of the world: that madmen should be strong and unafraid, so that they could force their will on the weak and peace-loving. If God allowed such madness to be, Simon could not help thinking, then He was an old god who had lost His grip.

Sir Bird preens next to me, tucking feathers into place with a low noise in his throat almost like he’s talking to himself. A slow smile spreads across Finn’s face as he rubs his knuckles—black and blue with several bruises from Sir Bird’s beak. “Let’s see,” he says, flipping through his father’s book. “Here! I’ll need some water in a shallow bowl . . . ink . . . yes, I think this is everything.” He gathers the items, then reads over the entry several times, eyebrows knit in concentration. Dipping his pen in the ink, he whispers strange words while writing on the surface of the water. The ink drips down, elongating the form of the symbols that still hover where he wrote them. I recognize one—change. But the rest I haven’t learned yet. Then, without warning, he lifts up the bowl and dumps the whole thing onto Sir Bird. Only instead of getting wet, as the water washes over his body, Sir Bird’s feathers turn . . . blue. Bright, brilliant, shimmering blue. Squawking in outrage, Sir Bird hops and flies around the room, frantically shaking his feathers. He lands on the desk with a scrabble of clawed feet, then begins trying to bite off the color. “Ha!” Finn says, pointing at his knuckles. “Now you’re black and blue, too!” I can’t help but laugh at my poor, panicking bird. Not to mention the ridiculous pettiness of Finn’s magic show. Picking up Sir Bird, I stroke his feathers and speak softly to him. “Hush now. I’ll make him fix you. You’re still very handsome, but blue isn’t your color, is it?” He caws mournfully, still pulling at his own feathers. “Finn.” He puts his hands behind his back, trying to look innocent. “What? He deserved it.” “He’s a bird. You can’t really find this much satisfaction in revenge against a bird, can you?” His voice comes out just a tad petulant. “He started it.

Yes, Joseph Smith did see angels and visions—because he was the instrument in God’s hands to restore the same Church of Jesus Christ as existed in primitive times—all of its powers as well as all of its doctrines. Yet sorrowfully, on occasion, some are willing to set aside the precious gospel truths restored by Joseph Smith because they get diverted on some historical issue or some scientific hypothesis not central to their exaltation, and in so doing they trade their spiritual birthright for a mess of pottage. They exchange the absolute certainty of the Restoration for a doubt, and in that process they fall into the trap of losing faith in the many things they do know because of a few things they do not know. There will always be some seemingly intellectual crisis looming on the horizon as long as faith is required and our minds are finite, but likewise there will always be the sure and solid doctrines of the Restoration to cling to, which will provide the rock foundation upon which our testimonies may be built.

A silly idea is current that good people do not know what temptation means. This is an obvious lie. Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is. After all, you find out the strength of the German army by fighting it, not by giving in. You find out the strength of a wind by trying to walk against it, not by lying down. A man who gives in to temptation after five minutes simply does not know what it would have been like an hour later. That is why bad people, in one sense, know very little about badness. They have lived a sheltered life by always giving in. We never find out the strength of the evil impulse inside us until we try to fight it: and Christ, because He was the only man who never yielded to temptation, is also the only man who knows to the full what temptation means—the only complete realist."15

Every temptation proves a crossroad where we must choose between the high road and the low road. On some occasions it is a trial of agonizing frustration. On other occasions, it is a mere annoyance, a nuisance of minor proportions. but in each case there is some element tot uneasiness, anxiety, and spiritual tugging--ultimately a choosing that forces us to take sides. Neutrality is a nonexistent condition in this life. We are always choosing, always taking sides. That is part of the human experience--facing temptations on a daily, almost moment-by-moment basis--facing them not only on the good days but on the days we are down, the days we are tired, rejected, discouraged, or sick. Every day of our lives we battle temptation--and so did the Savior. It is an integral part of the human experience, faced not only by us but also by him. He drank from the same cup.

Jebi se, Nina. Jebi se ti i tvoje zelene oči i tvoj Beograd i sve u što se mogu zaljubiti. Neka se jebu tvoje ruke i trbuh i kosa. Jebo te tvoj fakultet. Samo 30 slova, a tolike knjige. Jebo nas oboje smisao za kombiniranje. Jebala te košava i ekipa iz kraja koja misli da je uhvatila boga za muda, a nikad nije bila ni do Pančeva. Jebo te tvoj dečko, vjerojatno neki hipster koji misli da je maslačak najbolja salata na svijetu i obožava prirodu. Jebalo te svako slovo koje si napisala. Bilo bi pošteno da boli. Jebo te ormar u koji se sakrivaš kako bismo razgovarali. Jebo te tvoj mazni glas. Jebala te nova godina na vikendici. Jebo te način na koji se krećeš između kafanskih stolova. Jebalo te izluđivanje koje to izaziva. Jebala te zahvalnost koju nikad nećeš iskazati jer nemaš petlje da potpuno poludiš. Pravi, jebi se, salatu od maslačka na vikendici. Jebo te tvoj broj telefona. Jebalo mene što pomislim da je ključ od raja. Jebale te tvoje poruke koje zvuče kao dahtanje pod prstima. Jebali te ranojutarnji razgovori s muškarcima koje ne poznaješ. Jebo želju da budemo sretni. Jebo nesposobnost i kukavičluk da to pokušamo. Jebo opet novu godinu. Jebem svaku misao o tebi i to što znam nešto o rasparenim čarapama u kojima stojiš dok režeš meso za večeru. Jebi se, Nina, jer nikad se nećemo voljeti dok nas ne zaboli. Jebale te električne instalacije u tvom stanu i prošli životi koji nas plaše. Jebo Lisabon, treba ga bombardirati da vidimo hoće li tada biti romantičan. Jebeš mene, jer mogu biti lud toliko da mi nedostaješ, a da te nikad nisam dodirnuo, da čak ne znam ni kako izgledaš na dnevnoj svjetlosti. I jebeš dnevnu svjetlost. Tad su ljudi budni a ja želim da nema nikoga. Jebeš i to što ipak želim da si ti ovdje. Jebeš to što si moguća iznimka. I, opet, jebeš mene jer mogu vjerovati u sve to.