The Dixon Rule Quotes

From a memory deep inside her, so faint it only held sounds and slips of color, a tiny, three-year-old Azalea wailed, "Papa." "Papa," said Azalea to the lifeless form of the King. The word was so forgein, it choked her throat. "Papa... you can't leave us, Papa... It would be very...out of order-" Bramble knelt opposite her, grasping the King's bandaged hand. "She's-she's right, Papa," Bramble stuttered. "We have...rules..." Clover fell to her knees and pressed her handkerchief to his chest. Blood soaked through. "Papa," she whispered. The girls knelt around the King, their skirts spead out like forlorn blossoms, swallowing , and whispering one word. "Papa." "Papa." "Papa.

If you love someone, you should always tell them. Life is too short, and you never know what tomorrow will bring.

I've shielded you your entire life. That's what I do. I'm your dad. I try to make sure the bad stuff doesn't reach you.

Garrett Graham battling tears when he handed his daughter over to Ryder was probably the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.

Admitting that you're weak sometimes doesn't mean you're not strong. It means you're human .

I told them I had a girlfriend.” I start to laugh. “This is the greatest day of my life.” “Oh, it gets better, Dixon. I told them it was you.

Diana and I have a love-hate relationship. As in, she hates me, and I love to annoy her.

Christ, I love this woman with all my heart. Being with Diana is like discovering a piece of myself that I never knew was missing. She makes me want to be the best version of myself, not because I feel like I have to impress her but because she inspires me to be better.

You have no idea how much I love you. It's almost pathetic. Never saw it coming, Dixon. But you're everything to me. I don't know when it happened, but it's true. You're the heartbeat of my days. You're the reason I look forward to tomorrow. I honestly never thought I’d find someone who understands me so completely.

And I want a woman in that seat. Whether it’s Alan Dixon or Joe Biden or George Bush, I’m so tired of these idiot men getting to make up the rules for the rest of us. They’re not smarter. They’re not nicer. They don’t have better judgment. They’re just men.

To rule forever," continues the Chinaman, later, "it is necessary only to create, among the people one would rule, what we call...Bad History. Nothing will produce Bad History more directly nor brutally, than drawing a Line, in particular a Right Line, the very Shape of Contempt, through the midst of a People,-- to create thus a Distinction betwixt 'em,-- 'tis the first stroke.-- All else will follow as if predestin'd, unto War and Devastation.

I love you. I'm not giving you up. Ever.” “Ever, huh?” “Well, as long as you'll have me.

But that's what you do when you love people. Support their interests.

He asked me, as a friend, to have dinner with him tonight. It’s not a date, and I am the most loyal fake girlfriend you will ever have. I fake love you, Shane. I want to fake marry you and have your fake babies. Okay?” I glare at her. “Uncalled for. I can’t believe you brought our fake children into this.

You’ve ignored the rules in this house far too long,” he said. “You’re a horrible boyfriend. I don’t know what you do all day long. The house is a mess. I think it’s about time you started behaving the way a houseboy should. Let’s start with cleaning our bedroom.” I stared at him incredulously. “Seriously?” I blurted out. I was standing here with my pants around my knees, his come dripping down the backs of my thighs and he wanted me to. . . clean the house?

Ah,Azalea," said the King. "He's not going to be the one proposing." The springs in Azalea's feet went poioioing. "Sorry?" she said. "You outrank him, you know." The King shifted, uncomfortable. "It would be highly inappropriate for him to propose to you. The Delchastrian queen had to propose-" "I will do no such thing!" said Azalea. "Azalea," said the King in a firmer tone. "Come now, follow the rules. Besides, it is your chance to have the final say,is it not?" "I always have the final say!" said Azalea. "How horrifically unromantic!" "Well,do you want me to send him away?" "No!Don't do that!

Here’s some advice: never offer to stay friends if you don’t mean it.

You can tell me if there is.” No, I can’t. Because then you’re going to lose your shit like you always do.

It's wrong to hook up with him, even as a mindless fling.  Except...I'm not so good with the whole 'rules' thing. And he's not so great with the 'fling' thing.

You’re not going to ask me to be your partner?” Rather than answer, Diana starts to laugh. “What’s so funny?” “You thought I would actually ask you.

I want you to remember that no matter where I am, I’ll always be with you. Watching out for you.

If someone wants to be in a relationship with you, they will. They won’t string you along. They won’t hit you up in the middle of the night for sex. They won’t feed you endless excuses about how they’re “not cut out for relationships” or how “you deserve so much better.” They would be with you, plain and simple.

On that note, you can leave now. I have a margarita to drink and four episodes of Fling or Forever to catch up on.” “Cool. Wanna order a pizza? I’ll grab some beer from my apartment.” I stare at him. “I didn’t invite you.” “Oh, I invited myself. Was that not clear?

Democracy, let’s face it, was never more than a disguised version of moronarchy … rule by morons.

No one deserves to be hit. No woman, no man, no child. An intimate partner should not be doing that to you, ex-boyfriend or not. It’s not right.

Later, Dixon.” “Thanks for the ride, Daddy.” “Don’t turn me on this early in the morning, please.

Consider the difference in size between some of the very tiniest and the very largest creatures on Earth. A small bacterium weights as little as 0.00000000001 gram. A blue whale weighs about 100,000,000 grams. Yet a bacterium can kill a whale … . Such is the adaptability and versatility of microorganisms as compared with humans and other so-called “higher” organisms, that they will doubtless continue to colonise and alter the face of the Earth long after we and the rest of our cohabitants have left the stage forever. Microbes, not macrobes, rule the world. —Bernard Dixon, 1994

Once the solar parallax is known,' they told me, 'once the necessary Degrees are measur'd, and the size and weight and shape of the Earth are calculated inescapably at last, all this will vanish. We will have to seek another Space.' No one explain'd what that meant, however ...? 'Perhaps some of us will try living upon thy own Surface. I am not sure that everyone can adjust from a concave space to a convex one. Here have we been sheltered, nearly everywhere we look is no Sky, but only more Earth. -- How many of us, I wonder, could live the other way, the way you People do, so exposed to the Outer Darkness? Those terrible Lights, great and small? And wherever you may stand, given the Convexity, each of you is slight pointed away from everybody else, all the time, out into that Void that most of you seldom notice. Here in the Earth Concave, everyone is pointed at everyone else, -- ev'rybody's axes converge, -- forc'd at least thus to acknowledge one another,-- an entirely different set of rules for how to behave.

To rule forever,” continues the Chinaman, later, “it is necessary only to create, among the people one would rule, what we call . . . Bad History. Nothing will produce Bad History more directly nor brutally, than drawing a Line, in particular a Right Line, the very Shape of Contempt, through the midst of a People,— to create thus a Distinction betwixt ’em,— ’tis the first stroke.— All else will follow as if predestin’d, unto War and Devastation.” “Wait,” objects Mr. Dixon. “It’s as plain as pudding that Pennsylvania and Maryland are so different, that thy fatal Distinction was inflicted upon these Shores, long before we arriv’d,— ” “Poh, Sir,” goads Mason, “the Provinces are alike as Stacy and Tracy.” “Except for the Negro Slavery upon one side,” Dixon points out, less mildly than he might, “and not the other.” “If you think you see no Slaves in Pennsylvania,” replies Capt. Zhang, his face as smooth as Suet, “why, look again. They are not all African, nor do some of them even yet know,— may never know,— that they are Slaves. Slavery is very old upon these shores,— there is no Innocence upon the Practice anywhere, neither among the Indians nor the Spanish nor in the behavior of the rest of Christendom, if it come to that.

DAVE HEBERT HAS ADDED SHANE LINDLEY TO THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. SHANE: Thanks for the add! SHANE: Like we discussed in the meeting earlier, I think the Valentine’s Day party should DEFINITELY include a secret Valentine exchange. Also, my little sis is pretty crafty, so she can help out with any decorations, cards, etc etc. VERONIKA: I love secrets :D DIANA DIXON HAS REMOVED SHANE LINDLEY FROM THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. BRENDA KOWALSKY HAS ADDED SHANE LINDLEY TO THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. SHANE: Glad to be back in the chat! Thanks, B. DIANA: Sorry, guys. Brenda accidentally added Red Birch resident 2B. She’s asked me to correct the error. DIANA DIXON HAS REMOVED SHANE LINDLEY FROM THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. RALPH ROBARDS HAS ADDED SHANE LINDLEY TO THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. RALPH: Shane, not sure why you got removed before? Diana, not sure what the error was? Anyway, re-adding you. SHANE: Ralph, my man! Appreciate the add. RALPH ROBARDS HAS BEEN REMOVED AS AN ADMIN OF THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. DIANA DIXON HAS REMOVED SHANE LINDLEY FROM THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. DIEGO GOMEZ HAS ADDED SHANE LINDLEY TO THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. SHANE: Regarding the spring barbecue, Gustav says he’s able to offer a deal if we go to him for all our sausage needs. VERONIKA: Yum! You really know how to whet a girl’s appetite :D CELESTE: How tasty! DIANA DIXON HAS REMOVED SHANE LINDLEY FROM THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. NIALL GENTRY HAS ADDED SHANE LINDLEY TO THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. DIANA: Niall, did Shane tell you about the drum set he just bought?? NIALL GENTRY HAS REMOVED SHANE LINDLEY FROM THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. THE END

Oh come now, Dixon. I’m more qualified than my husband ever was…or that oaf Wendelson.  We could rule together, like modern day monarchs.

THE EVENING before WrestleMania, Vince sent a memo around that instructed his entire crew to convene first thing in the morning at the arena. There were predictable grumblings, with the performers unhappy that their night of pre-show decadence would have to be cut short because of the early wake-up call. The unofficial rule amongst many of the boys was that when it came to doing pay-per-view, having a hangover was a prerequisite because it made you sulky and focussed. Of course, the risk was that someone would go too far and be in no condition to perform come show time, but Vince's meeting made sure there would be little chance of that. Sure enough, everyone was accounted for on that dreary Sunday morning, tired, but for the most part sober.               The boys sat with sunglasses covering their heavy eyes, sipping black coffee from the local Starbucks while wondering what was so urgent that Vince had dragged them out of bed at the crack of dawn. Those who had known McMahon for a while had a good inkling; the meeting wasn't about anything at all. It was simply a front to keep everyone in check and make sure there were no major problems caused by someone having a little too much fun the night before the biggest show of the year. "I betcha Vince doesn't even show," whispered Paul Bearer to no one in particular, and sure enough, he didn't. Instead J.J. Dillon wandered into the room, and told the amassed throng that Vince wasn't coming, but he just wanted to tell them all to have a good show. It was classic McMahon; keeping his troops in check and running things from afar under his authoritarian rule.   THE

It is essential for the rulers’ rule not to be apparent, hence the elite’s ingenious use of “democracy” (dumbocracy), in which the sedated masses are led to believe that they choose how they are governed. Have the cattle ever gone more willingly to the abattoir?

A researcher said, “A diverse nation is a more divided nation.” Who knew? Duh! Multicultural nations are always divided, and, as Abraham Lincoln told us, a House divided against itself cannot stand. Multiculturalism must be smashed to smithereens. What we need is a diverse monoculture, as prevailed in ancient Greece, with its countless city-states, all following a common religion, language and general culture. We need competitive diversity, but an overall level of cooperation and common identity. Football teams compete with each other in a league. They all obey the rules and framework of the league, and don’t go off and do their own thing. The league is a diverse monoculture. In a multicultural system, different cultures would reject the league, and create their own leagues, or even reject football entirely, and play alien sports imported from their originating cultures. It’s time people got real. Multicultural division is a disaster. Monocultural division is competitive and enjoyable.

Why shouldn’t the State, the Commonwealth, be in charge of everything? Why should unelected, unaccountable private elites run the country? How can a nation be a democracy if it is controlled by private banks, private corporations, private markets, and the private super rich? What connection do any of these have to democracy and the power of the people? The ancient Athenians invented democracy precisely to stop rule by oligarchs. Now capitalism has subverted democracy and given the power straight back to the oligarchs. Democracy, thanks to capitalism, has become meaningless, a farce.

To rule forever," continues the Chinaman, later, "it is necessary only to create, among the people one would rule, what we call... Bad History. Nothing will produce Bad History more directly nor brutally, than drawing a Line, in particular a Right Line, the very Shape of Contempt, through the midst of a People,— to create thus a Distinction betwixt 'em,— 'tis the first stroke.— All else will follow as if predestin'd, unto War and Devastation.

I see the difference now. I see the importance of picking the right woman to do life with. Preferably someone who can make you laugh your ass off.

What kind of hardcore amateur dance competition is this? I saw on the website that the first-place pair wins fifty grand, and I remember seeing the top five were also in the money, but I assumed that meant like six hundred bucks. Who the hell is funding this shit? Is the mafia involved?

He points at a fourth man who’s gliding toward the small group of men. The newcomer is tall, blond, and looks like a male model. He’s snapping on a black helmet as he joins the others. “Dude,” gripes the player at the end of the bench. “That’s my dad.” I examine the teen, instantly noting the resemblance. His name is Beau, and although his hair is a shade darker than his father’s, he has the same green eyes and chiseled features. He hasn’t completely filled out yet, but he’s already tall and built. I fear for the opponents he’ll be facing in a couple years.

So put that in your stupid pirate’s chest and choke on it.

I grabbed dinner with her and Gigi last week, and when your name came up, Diana rolled her eyes so hard, it looked like they were gonna pop out of her face.

Diana’s gorgeous, with wide-set eyes, platinum-blond hair, and a sassy mouth. She’s a little shorter than I usually like, barely over five feet, five-two if we’re being generous. A pint-sized hottie with a big personality. Although it seems like a major part of that personality involves busting the balls of yours truly.

laugh. Diana and I have a love-hate relationship. As in, she hates me, and I love to annoy her.

Don’t worry, we didn’t see a thing.” The reassurance comes from the boy-next-door face of Will Larsen. “I saw your tits and one butt cheek,” Beckett Dunne says helpfully.

It has a plunging neckline and an open back, and unlike Martinique, she won’t have to worry about her tits bouncing around. Dixon’s are small and perky and contained. She’s wearing a flowy skirt with a high slit, and when we practiced our spins earlier, that material billowed all around her, the slit showcasing her footwork. Apparently, it’s supposed to accentuate her movements. All I know is I can see a lot of thigh, and my dick is happy.

Diana and I return to the ballroom and find ourselves seated next to Confi-Dance, who glare at us. These people need to have sex more often.

It’s okay, baby,” she says. “No, it’s not okay. He’s gone.” “I know.” “So how is that okay?” “It has to be. Otherwise, I’m going to drown,” she whispers.

down the street to the station.” “I’ll be fine, I promise. I love you.” I say those three words to him every day now, and part of me still curses myself for not saying them the night Percy was parked outside Meadow Hill. I felt it then, but I was still pissy that Shane went off with Lynsey. Now I realize how childish that was. If you love someone, you should always tell them. Life is too short, and you never know what tomorrow will bring. What if I kept my feelings to myself that night and something had happened to him the next morning? I can’t even imagine living with that kind of regret. “I love you too,” Shane says before kissing me again.

Don’t worry, I’m not letting this creep anywhere near you. If he shows up here again, he’s gonna have a word with Shane Junior and Shane the Third.” I raise my right fist and then the left. “We need better names for your fists,” Diana says frankly. “I know. In my defense, I’ve never called them anything before, so I was sort of winging it.” “We’ll brainstorm.” “Maybe bring it up at the next HOA meeting,” I suggest. “Good idea.” She’s smiling.

my

They’re the three best players in the country, and I heard they’ve all already committed to playing for Briar in a couple of years.

The countdown starts, and I make a big show of studying Diana’s face. Tilting my head, squinting, taking a good, hard look. “Oh, fuck off,” she grumbles. “We all know you’re going to say something sleazy, like my⁠—” “Your smile.” Her suspicion is palpable. “Are you serious?” “You have a really pretty smile.” My voice suddenly sounds a little gruff to my ears. “The prompt was sexiest feature, not prettiest,” Gia gloats. “You guys don’t score the point.” “Oh, in that case, I love her ass.” “And there he is,” Diana says, sighing.

I’m in my bedroom. Pretending to hunt for an old high school yearbook so we can show her boyfriend.” “Ouch.” “Yeah.” “Okay, so to recap, I’m your pretend girlfriend and I have free rein in what I say? I can create a rich tapestry of our love?” “If you come and help me, you can do whatever the hell you want.” I can’t stop smiling. “Give me an hour.

Of course not. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. I only kissed you because I got caught up in my girlfriend role.” “You don’t have to explain it. I’m on the same page.” “So you were playing a part too?” “No, I wanted to kiss you.” That shuts me up.

Team Graham’s first line features Beau Di Laurentis. Team Connelly lucked out with Jake’s son AJ and Gray Davenport on the same line.

Oh my God, why am I like this? You and your stupid dicksand.” “Dicksand?” “Yeah, like quicksand. But your dick is the trap, and I’ve been sucked into it.” “Wouldn’t your pussy be the quicksand ’cause it’s the one sucking my dick into it?” We stare at each other for a moment. “Why are we like this?” he sighs.

Life’s too short to not do all the things I want to do.

—we don’t cause trouble, and, preferably, we don’t speak.” “Isn’t this considered speaking?” “No. This is the conversation leading up to the future conversations we won’t be having. In conclusion, we’re not friends. No shenanigans. Oh, and stop screwing my teammates.

RYDER: Me personally? Fuck no. But lemme ask the wife. If she wants to go, I’ll go. BECKETT: Wow. RYDER: Wow what? BECKETT: That woman owns you now. You realize that, right, mate? RYDER: Yes and?

I never want this to end. This Kiss is pure fire.

Never saw it coming, Dixon. But you’re everything to me. I don’t know when it happened, but it’s true. You’re the heartbeat of my days. You’re the reason I look forward to tomorrow. I honestly never thought I’d find someone who understands me so completely.

if you’re really gonna give out awards for the most beautiful, that one over there obviously wins.

Three days later, my father is dead.

Uh-huh, he is. I cheered at all his games growing up, and I guarantee I know more about hockey than most of your teammates. But if I have to choose a game to attend, I’d way rather be sitting behind the Patriots’ bench than center ice at TD Garden.” “You are disowned.” I shake my head at her.

Admitting that you’re weak sometimes doesn’t mean you’re not strong. It means you’re human.

What kind of thoughts do you think a cloud would have if it was sentient?” I ask her. “I can’t even begin to answer that question.” I absently play with the end of her wet ponytail. “I think he’d think, what the hell am I doing up here?

On my first Sunday morning visiting Capitol Hill Baptist Church in Washington, DC, my family and I sat in front of a lovely family in the church balcony. I first noticed them because their young children sat attentively and patiently as they participated in the service. I then noticed their lovely, vigorous singing. But they really grabbed my attention when they greeted us warmly immediately after the service. The man of the family took me around and introduced me to many of the men in the church, and after about fifteen minutes or so invited my family to join his family at their home for lunch—right then. Honestly, the experience made me feel a little weirded out. First of all, his name was Jim, and literally the first three men he introduced me to were all named Jim. Strange, I thought. What kind of church is this? Will I have to change my name again? Then the quick invitation to lunch about knocked me down. It happened too fast. And with my Southern upbringing, it might have even been considered impolite. So I gave him my best polite Southern way of saying no: “That is mighty nice of you. Perhaps some other time.” Everybody down South knows that a sentence like that means no. Southerners know that that is how you must say no because saying no itself is impolite. Southerners are nothing if not polite. So I had clearly said no to this man’s kind but hasty offer of lunch. And wouldn’t you know it? The very next week, when we went to this strange church again, he insisted that we join them for lunch. I was North Carolina. He was New Jersey. There was a failure to communicate. He didn’t understand the rules of the South, but Washington, DC, apparently was too close to the Mason-Dixon Line to clearly establish which “Rome” we were in and what we should do. But I was wrong, and Jim was right. He was the godlier man. He was more hospitable than anyone I had ever met and remains more hospitable than I am today. He embodied Paul’s insistence that hospitable men lead Christ’s church. And rightly, he was a church elder.

The Mason-Dixon line can almost be said to be the Okra Line, that is, historically: As a rule, Southern writers gave receipts for okra, even when their works were published in the North. Northern writers did not, with the exception of those of Philadelphia, an anomaly explained by the early presence of West Indians who came to very nearly dominate the catering business in that city.

A goal is a desired result, a purpose or an objective. A goal is the prize or reward that your character wants to obtain or achieve. Everybody likes a winner, and readers are no exception to that rule.

Look to the Southeast, where, as Taylor has noted, “colonial societies sustained a slave system more oppressive than anything practiced in Europe” and “the slave-owners relied on Indians to catch runaways.” There, too, the native groups, descended from Mississippian societies, were far more hierarchical and autocratically ruled than the Algonkian- and Iroquoian-speaking groups in the Northeast. As Gallay has documented, indigenous societies cooperated fully with the slave-trading system, sending war captives to colonists for sale overseas. In the Northeast, by contrast, the Wendat (Huron) and Haudenosaunee either killed or, more common, adopted captives; involuntary servitude, though it occurred, was strikingly rarer. On the map, the division line between slave and non-slave societies occurs in Virginia, broadly anticipating the Mason-Dixon line that later split slave states from free. The repeated pattern doubtless has to do with geography—southeastern climate and soil favor plantation crops like tobacco and cotton. And southern colonists’ preference for slavery presumably reflected their different ethnic, class, and religious backgrounds. But

A vise of emotion squeezes my heart. “But here’s the thing. Even though you’re strong and capable of taking care of yourself—and I truly believe in that—you also need to be strong enough to know when to ask for help.” His expression sharpens. “And when something like this happens? You fucking ask for help, Diana.” I bite my lip so hard, I feel a sting. “Okay.

Hey, can my best friend fuck you?

You’re the heartbeat of my days. You’re the reason I look forward to tomorrow. I honestly never thought I’d find someone who understands me so completely.

I heard her come once. I still think about that sometimes. Jerked off to it a few times too, though I’d never tell Ryder that. He’d rip my throat out.

Well, mostly good people. Diana doesn’t count.

I don’t want a sweet little wife.” He kisses my shoulder. “I want a sassy bitch.” I snicker. “Did you just call me a bitch?” “Mmm-hmmm.