Titanium Quotes

The promises you make on your mother’s deathbed are promises that are absolute; they’re titanium. There’s no way you’re breaking them. I promised my mother that I would take care of my brother. That I would look after him. I kept my word. I did it the best way I could. By leaving.

Every other person in the world would have looked at it and thought, Max would hate this. It was girly. It was beautiful. It wasn't made of titanium and black leather with spikes on it. But it seemed exactly right, in a weird, heart-fluttery kind of way. And I really loved it.

Used titanium hunting knife: sixty-three dollars. Value: priceless.

Christmas and Easter Christian.

We can’t force civilians to cooperate. And we certainly wouldn’t be sabotaging your future job prospects. Forever.

Everyone knows that the Internet is changing our lives, mostly because someone in the media has uttered that exact phrase every single day since 1993. However, it certainly appears that the main thing the Internet has accomplished is the normalization of amateur pornography. There is no justification for the amount of naked people on the World Wide Web, many of whom are clearly (clearly!) doing so for non-monetary reasons. Where were these people fifteen years ago? Were there really millions of women in 1986 turning to their husbands and saying, 'You know, I would love to have total strangers masturbate to images of me deep-throating a titanium dildo, but there's simply no medium for that kind of entertainment. I guess we'll just have to sit here and watch Falcon Crest again.

Let me explain: there are dragons, and then there are drakons. Drakons are several millennia older than dragons, andmuch larger. They look like giant serpents. Most don't have wings. Most don't breathe fire (though some do). All are poisonous. All are immensely strong, with scales harder than titanium. Their eyes can paralyze you; not the turn-you~to-stone Medusa-type paralysis, buttheoh~my~gods-that~big~snake~is~going~to~eat~me type of paralysis, which is just as bad.

I met a girl in a U-Haul. A beautiful girl And I fell for her. I fell hard. Unfortunately, sometimes life gets in the way. Life definitely got in my way. It got all up in my damn way, Life blocked the door with a stack of wooden 2x4's nailed together and attached to a fifteen inch concrete wall behind a row of solid steel bars, bolted to a titanium frame that no matter how hard I shoved against it- It wouldn't budge. Sometimes life doesn't budge. It just gets all up in your damn way. It blocked my plans, my dreams, my desires, my wishes, my wants, my needs. It blocked out that beautiful girl That I fell so hard for. Life tries to tell you what's best for you What should be most important to you What should come in first Or second Or third. I tried so hard to keep it all organized, alphabetized, stacked in chronological order, everything in its perfect space, its perfect place. I thought that's what life wanted me to do. This is what life needed for me to do. Right? Keep it all in sequence? Sometimes, life gets in your way. It gets all up in your damn way. But it doesn't get all up in your damn way because it wants you to just give up and let it take control. Life doesn't get all up in your damn way because it just wants you to hand it all over and be carried along. Life wants you to fight it. It wants you to grab an axe and hack through the wood. It wants you to get a sledgehammer and break through the concrete. It wants you to grab a torch and burn through the metal and steel until you can reach through and grab it. Life wants you to grab all the organized, the alphabetized, the chronological, the sequenced. It wants you to mix it all together, stir it up, blend it. Life doesn't want you to let it tell you that your little brother should be the only thing that comes first. Life doesn't want you to let it tell you that your career and your education should be the only thing that comes in second. And life definitely doesn't want me To just let it tell me that the girl I met, The beautiful, strong, amazing, resilient girl That I fell so hard for Should only come in third. Life knows. Life is trying to tell me That the girl I love, The girl I fell So hard for? There's room for her in first. I'm putting her first.

She just put a stake through his heart in broad daylight, and he’s still moving,” a dry voice responded. “I think that means he’s not a vampire, if you check.

You could have an eight-inch thick titanium diaper bolted to your pelvis, and you would still somehow get laid. It should be their official tourism slogan: Israel Where Virginity Goes to Die.

The ring is a copy of my mother’s. I took the stone from her engagement ring and had a jeweler place it in a titanium setting.” “Titanium?” I asked. “Dick knew a guy." “Of course he did.” “You’re a bit rough and tumble with jewelry, and I knew it would have to be able to stand up to…” “Nuclear winter?” His eyebrow lifted. “I never know with you.

I HAD known him as a bulldozer, as a samurai, as an android programmed to kill, as Plastic Man and Titanium Man and Matter-Eater Lad, as a Buick Electra, as a Peterbilt truck, and even, for a week, as the Mackinac Bridge, but it was as a werewolf that Timothy Stokes finally went too far.

A golden heart, a dioamond soul, a silver lining attitude and a titanium will power is the finest and the only jewellery I wear.

Dreams were fragile things to build with. Titanium and ceramic lasted longer.

we met one strange summer in a regular tangle of sticky webs you had the air of angels sweet but I-- drowned with the damned spirits in lava oceans fearing your-- foreign static frequency and grey-green eyes (I swear they are even if you-- think otherwise): storms calm ones, calmer than my-- raging coals, empty and dead you speak of souls like you believe always an optimist in pessimistic skin of ivory and titanium mesh...

I'm fairly certain that, at this very minute, the [Mars Polar Lander] is floating somewhere around the Neptune feeling tired and cranky and looking for a Holiday Inn. Of course, you'd have to have a heart of titanium not to feel a twinge of sadness while watching those dejected NASA scientiest waiting by the phone like the class wallflower on prom week. On the other hand, it was kind of fun to watch a bunch of men waiting by the phone and seeing how they feel when someone promises they'll call and then YOU NEVER HEAR FROM HIM AGAIN.

She wears a titanium smile on her face like an overloaded weapon.

This hand is unusual,” she said, lifting the titanium-plated one. “Is it made of ashes?” “Is it made … I’m sorry, what?” “Don’t,” said Scarlet, waving a hand. “I find it’s better if you don’t ask.” The

The future belongs to the puzzle solvers.

I was thinking about painting you. Painting your hair. That I'd have to use titanium white to get the color right, the way it catches light and almost glows. But that wouldn't work, would it? It's not all one color, you hair, it's not just gold: It's amber and tawny and caramel and wheat and honey.

People considered “breaking” a sign of weakness. I disagreed. Bending meant you could be molded and shaped into something else. I may be full of dents, scars, and trauma, but whatever they did to me, they could not bend and form me into their idea. They turned me rigid. Titanium. I broke; I did not bend. I snapped; I did not bow. They did not twist and cast me into something different. My broken pieces could be forged together. Made stronger.

I am feeling sad and blue. I need to see some books! Books make me happy.

She'd dived headfirst into the gauntlet of fire and come out harder than titanium.

I always knew you were tough, but you're about to try to take on the wolves, the Arrows, the Forgotten, and God knows who else, all at once. Forget brass balls. Those things are goddamn titanium!

Where she saw weakness, I saw strength. Where she saw fear, I saw resilience. Where she saw timidity, I saw courage. Unlike me, Shannon didn't need to alter her mind to survive the world we lived in. She thought she was the weakest link in the family chain, when it couldn't be further from the truth. My sister was titanium.

I don’t think I’ve ever allowed myself to mentally steep in my own thoughts for this long before. Maybe it’s because I hate being alone with them. They’re vicious, only serving to plunge holes into my titanium exterior.

Warmly, because my air conditioner is broken, Luigi L. Lemoncello

But maybe my expression isn’t as bad as I think it is. Maybe Galen’s just really good at reading me. Or maybe he’s just being overly mushy himself. He is a tad protective, after all. I glance at Toraf, who’s sitting on the other full-size bed next to Rayna. And Toraf is already looking at me. When our eyes meet, he shakes his head ever so slightly. As if to say, “Don’t do it.” As if to say, “You really don’t want to do it.” As if to say, “I know you really want to do it, but I’m asking you not to. As a friend.” I huff, then adjust myself in Galen’s death grip. It’s not fair that Galen and Toraf silently ask me to accept this. That my mother is putty in Grom’s proficient hands. That her temperature barely raised a degree around my dad, yet Grom, within an hour of reunion, has her titanium exterior dissolving like Alka-Seltzer in hot water. I can’t accept it. Won’t. Will. Not.

They have machines for that now,” I say, pointing. “Yes, they do,” he agrees. “But the automation of labour is a conspiracy of de-humanisation. Work is of our nature. Giving even our chores to the machine saves time at the expense of self.

The house always wins.” “The house doesn’t even need to win. There’s no game because the house owns everything. The money you bet with, the air you breathe. The myth is that when the wheel spins it’s any different from when it’s standing still.

That’s what engineering is all about, folks. Turning dreams into reality!

isn’t about words or beliefs. It’s about actions. Going ahead with this even though you’re afraid, especially

Does your beaver have super powers? Is it made out of titanium?” “Um,

You are my Titanium. You was.

My will is titanium. My spirit is bionic. I am made of steel, and hard times don’t break me.

I also think Mullen shouldn’t have shot me and that nice things should be free to nice people and really expensive for assholes, but this is not the day when any of us gets what we want.

One thing for sure; whoever I was supposed to keep safe really got the shittier end of the deal, considering the last person I’d been tasked with protecting had ended up with a titanium bullet in his forehead.

She took his hands in hers and placed them on her breasts. “They ache a bit, you know. After all, they’ve been penetrated by two hundred and forty tiny titanium pellets. Like asteroids and a cosmic dust shower.

In fact, the titanium dioxide does more than clean the concrete: it can also reduce the level of nitrogen oxide in the air, produced by cars, like a catalytic converter. Several studies have shown that this works, and

It’s the water beyond the titanium sand that draws me in. Not blue, not even the bright green of a clear lagoon, something more like sea foam. A green so bright it has a tint of yellow. The color of clarity. Of shallow water over white sand.

No, Pasha,” whispered Alexander. “No.” He felt Pasha’s head. He closed Pasha’s eyes. For a few moments he stood over Pasha, and then he sank to the ground. Wrapping him tightly with the trench coat, Alexander took Pasha’s body into his arms and, cradling him from the cold, closed his own eyes. For the rest of the night Alexander sat on an empty road, his back against the tree, not moving, not opening his eyes, not speaking, holding Tatiana’s brother in his arms. If Ouspensky spoke to him, he did not hear. If he slept, he did not feel it, not the cold air, nor the hard ground, nor the rough bark of the tree against his back, against his head. When morning broke, and gray close light rose over Saxony, Alexander opened his eyes. Ouspensky was sleeping on his side, wrapped in his trench coat next to them. Pasha’s body was rigid, very cold. Alexander got up from under Pasha, washed his own face with whisky, rinsed out his mouth with whisky, and then got his titanium trench tool and started to carve a hole in the ground. Ouspensky woke up, helped him. It took them three hours of scraping at the earth, to make a hole a meter deep. Not deep enough, but it would have to do. Alexander covered Pasha’s face with the trench coat so the earth wouldn’t fall on it. With two small branches and a piece of string, Alexander made a cross and laid it on top of Pasha’s chest, and then they lifted him and lowered him into the hole, and Alexander, his teeth grit the entire time, filled the shallow grave with fresh dirt. On a wide thick branch, he carved out the name PASHA METANOV, and the date, Feb 25, 1945, and tying it to another longer branch made another cross and staked it into the ground. Alexander and Ouspensky

Love had still seemed like such a paltry thing in the face of all my doubts then, much the way it felt now. David had worries my love couldn’t touch, fears my love couldn’t easily dispel. My love seemed like a well-worn blanket instead of the titanium shield I needed.

My flesh is of the earth, like all bodies. But so is the body of my wheelchair, the titanium extracted from the crust of the earth, an element that happens to be found in Canada. The same crust of ancient rock I crawled across as a kid contains the element needed to build my wheelchair.

Orange soil meant highly oxidized titanium, which would be critical for recovering metals and oxygen that would be needed to colonize the moon. “Houston, we have a vein of what appears to be bright orange soil, one meter deep and approximately three meters wide. Taking a sample for analysis now.

One question," said Wylan. "What are you going to use the titanium for?" "Why does it matter?" asked Nikolai. "Because unlike Kaz, I have a conscience." "I have a conscience," said Kaz. "It just knows when to keep its mouth shut." Jesper snorted. "If you have a conscience, it's gagged and tied to a chair somewhere.

hawk wings, titanium armor, and eyes that could see through walls. Jay rose to his feet. “That’s amazing,” he said in a shocked whisper. “The wings look real. And that fire …” He pointed to the flames coming out of Akivo’s silver boots. Barry had worked for three hours on those flames, mixing orange and red and yellow with a bit of blue until they looked like they would burn your fingers if you touched them. They both stood there for a minute, staring at the drawing. Then Jay started jumping up and down. “We’re going to win the contest!” Jay yelled. “We’re going to win the contest!” Barry started jumping too. He knew that hundreds of people were entering,

Let's light it up until our hearts catch fire.

T,

Didn’t think God had much to say to a socialist.” “God has been a socialist since 1848 when Karl Marx explained things to him. Ever since.

Vice can be like that: it enjoys seeing the place where its degradation is indistinguishable from its triumph,

I bled with you that night, and every day since.

I know objectively that it happens—I see it happen all the time—and yet death remains incomprehensible: the line where the meaning of things just stops, and the universe carries on.

Oh … dear … God! Flowers. Dim lights. Soft music. Lautner. He’s about ten feet away wearing a black suit and a titanium tie. I’ve never seen him dressed up like this. He’s … perfect. Holding up his phone, he shakes his head. “Got your message … finally.” My newly applied makeup is in serious danger. There’s a lump in my throat the size of Saturn and it’s making my eyes water … a lot!

Save for the accident of her low birth, Peg might have been a person of fashion; a vibrant beauty, painted by an academician in oils. Intending to make a quick end to it, I started mixing the lily green I had made especially from crushed flowers, hoping exactly to tint her eyes, rattling my tiny brush in the jar. Then I subjected her to my closest gaze. "Your eyes," I said, musingly. "They are a very unusual green; in different lights they reflect brown and blue. Do they perhaps reflect whatever light falls on them?" Peg replied that she couldn't say. "Do, please, sit very still." I looked very hard, then used my green with a wash of yellow ochre to tint the iris, and a ring of burnt umber. A pinprick of white titanium gave them startling life. I was happy with them; surely even Peg would admire her lively cat-like eyes.

A kid born today would grow up in a world where carbon-silicate lace was as common as titanium or glass. That it was a collaboration between humanity and the ghosts of a massive and alien intelligence would go right by them. Holden was one of the lucky generation who would straddle that break point, that seam between before and after that Naomi and Amos and Ip were making literal right now, and so he could be amazed by how cool it was.

The titanium “sponge” from which the sheet and bar were formed for the SR-71s came principally from Australia and Japan which have it in good supply. But the basic materials for the later Blackbirds came also from Russia, which had developed its titanium-producing facilities and decided to undercut the others in price. We discontinued those purchases, however, after an initial one because we did not want to help Russia develop this industry.

Overnight, however, he apparently had second thoughts, or did some textbook reading on his own, and at the next meeting he turned to me as the first order of business. “On the black paint,” he said, “you were right about the advantages and I was wrong.” He handed me a quarter. It was a rare win. So Kelly approved my idea of painting the airplane black, and by the time our first prototype rolled out the airplane became known as the Blackbird. Our supplier, Titanium Metals Corporation, had only limited reserves of the precious alloy, so the CIA conducted a worldwide search and, using third parties and dummy companies, managed to unobtrusively purchase the base metal from one of the world’s leading exporters—the Soviet Union. The Russians never had an inkling of how they were actually contributing to the creation of the airplane being rushed into construction to spy on their homeland.

For three thousand years it had been the concent’s policy to accept any and all folding chairs and collapsible tables made available to it, and never throw one away. On one and only one occasion, this had turned out to be a wise policy: the millennial Apert of 3000, when 27,500 pilgrims had swarmed in through the gates to enjoy a square meal and see the End of the World. We had folding chairs made of bamboo, machined aluminum, aerospace composites, injection-molded poly, salvaged rebar, hand-carved wood, bent twigs, advanced newmatter, tree stumps, lashed sticks, brazed scrap metal, and plaited grass. Tabletops could be made of old-growth lumber, particle board, extruded titanium, recycled paper, plate glass, rattan, or substances on whose true nature I did not wish to speculate. Their lengths ranged from two to twenty-four feet and their weights from that of a dried flower to that of a buffalo.

You’re the shock absorber. From the Titans’ point of view, you stop the masses from realising the extent of their subjugation. You relieve them of the need to exercise raw financial and political power in the protection of their interests where those interests collide with the law. But…you also protect ordinary humans from the consequences of that subjugation as best you can. Yours is an equivocal profession. But I hear you’re not entirely an asshole.

Ray, we don’t have much time,” I said. “We need to access the EDA intranet node hidden here in the store. It’s an emergency.” Ray only hesitated for a split second. “Behind the UFO poster on the back wall.” I turned and located the one he was talking about—a framed reprint of Mulder’s “I Want to Believe” poster from The X-Files. I took it down, revealing what appeared to be a small titanium safe embedded in the brick wall behind it, with a keypad at its center.

Sirens blasted, breaking the silence and spinning me around. The shrill sound was all too familiar, and I snapped into action. Vicious excitement replaced the restlessness, and I knew just how screwed up that was, but right then? Oh yeah, I could use a fight. Yesterday in the quad had been child’s play. Grabbing the Glock loaded with titanium bullets, I hooked it into the holster and fit it around my thigh. I snatched the daggers off the dresser and headed out the door, not even bothering with grabbing a shirt. I came to a complete stop as Josie’s door swung open. What in the holy fuck were Alex and Josie doing together? For just a few seconds, the three of us were literally frozen, staring at each other as the sirens blared overhead. And then Alex broke the silence. “Really?” she said dryly, eyeing me with a smirk. “You’re going to fight with the awesomeness of your six-pack as a weapon?” I arched a brow. “Yeah, you know, I was going to test out the whole abs of steel theory thing. The gun attached to my thigh and the daggers in my hands are just props. Mainly for show. Don’t want to take away from the gloriousness that is my body, though.” Her smirk flipped into a grin. “Whatever.” She started forward. Up ahead, a tall figure stepped out in the hall, and light glinted off the titanium daggers in his hands. Aiden. Of course their room had to be close to mine. Of. Course.

The Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain, looked like something out of an alien hallucination—a swirling collage of warped metallic forms that appeared to have been propped up against one another in an almost random way. Stretching into the distance, the chaotic mass of shapes was draped in more than thirty thousand titanium tiles that glinted like fish scales and gave the structure a simultaneously organic and extraterrestrial feel, as if some futuristic leviathan had crawled out of the water to sun herself on the riverbank.

„You see?“ said the official, examining the ultra-titanium outer seals the aorist rod hold. „ Perfectly secure, perfectly safe.“ He said the same thing as they passed holds containing chemical weapons so powerful that a teaspoonful could fatally infect an entire planet. He said the same thing as they passed holds containing zeta-active compounds so powerful that a teaspoon could blow up a whole planet. He said the same thing as they passed holds containing theta-active compounds so powerful that a teaspoon could irradiate a whole planet. „I‘m glad I‘m not a planet,“ muttered Zaphop.

A girl sat neatly on a flat rock. Somehow he’d not seen her. She looked like she’d stepped through the screen of a 1950s movie. Her skin and blond hair were such pale shades they looked monochrome. Her long coat was tied at the waist by a fabric belt. She was probably a few years younger than him, in her early twenties, wearing a white hat with matching gloves. “Sorry,” she said, “If I surprised you.” Her irises were titanium gray, her most striking feature. Her lips were an afterthought and her cheekbones flat. But her eyes...He realized he was staring into them and quickly looked away.

I’m having a permanent out-of-body experience. When it’s finally done, I lie flat on my back. Glare up at the greenish, star-pricked night sky. I try not to think about what I must look like, black and bony out here on the bank of this pond. My body is all sharp angles—nothing to hold it together but armored joints and a knobby curved spine. I’m a holy fucking terror, I imagine. A walking weapon. After a while, I dig my elbow joints into the mud and sit up. My body can really move now, no longer hauling rotted bone and flesh but streamlined with these thin limbs made of light titanium. I feel like an obsidian skeleton out here. A devil dancing in the dark. I feel free.

Want to feel you come,” she murmured. “Want you to mark me.” The answering growl he made sent a primal shiver through her. He nibbled at the side of her neck. “Say you’re mine.” She smiled at his possessiveness and arched her neck. “I’m yours. Make me yours.” “All mine,” he muttered, his arms locked tight around her and then he took her hard and fast.

I want to be married,” I blurted. “I want you to marry me.” Fuuuuuuuck. And so my entire carefully constructed speech was thrown out the window. My grandmother’s antique ring was in a box in the dresser—nowhere near me—and my plan to kneel and do everything right just evaporated. In the circle of my arms, Chloe grew very still. “What did you just say?” I had completely botched the plan, but it was too late to turn back now. “I know we have only been together for a little over a year,” I explained, quickly. “Maybe it’s too soon? I understand if it’s too soon. It’s just that how you feel about the way we kiss? I feel that way about everything we do together. I love it. I love to be inside you, I love working with you, I love watching you work, I love fighting with you, and I love just sitting on the couch and laughing with you. I’m lost when I’m not with you, Chloe. I can’t think of anything, or anyone, who is more important to me, every second. And so for me, that means we’re already sort of married in my head. I guess I wanted to make it official somehow. Maybe I sound like an idiot?” I looked over at her, feeling my heart try to jackhammer its way up my throat. “I never expected to feel this way about someone.” She stared at me, eyes wide and lips parted as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. I stood and ran over to the dresser, pulling the box from the drawer and carrying it over to her. When I opened the box and let her see my grandmother’s antique diamond and sapphire ring, she clapped a hand over her mouth. “I want to be married,” I said again. Her silence was unnerving, and fuck, I’d completely botched this with my rambling nonsense. “Married to you, I mean.” Her eyes filled with tears and she held them, unblinking. “You. Are such. An ass.” Well, that was unexpected. I knew it might be too soon, but an ass? Really? I narrowed my eyes. “A simple ‘It’s too soon’ would have sufficed, Chloe. Jesus. I lay my heart out on the—” She pushed off the bed and ran over to one of her bags, rummaging through it and pulling out a small blue fabric bag. She carried it back to me with the ribbon hooked over her long index finger, and dangled the bag in my face. I ask her to marry me and she brings me a souvenir from New York? What the fuck is that? “What the fuck is that?” I asked. “You tell me, genius.” “Don’t get smart with me, Mills. It’s a bag. For all I know you have a granola bar, or your tampons, in there.” “It’s a ring, dummy. For you.” My heart was pounding so hard and fast I half wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like. “A ring for me?” She pulled a small box out of the bag and showed it to me. It was smooth platinum, with a line of coarse titanium running through the middle. “You were going to propose to me?” I asked, still completely confused. “Do women even do that?” She punched me, hard, in the arm. “Yes, you chauvinist. And you totally stole my thunder.” “So, is that a yes?” I asked, my bewilderment deepening. “You’ll marry me?” “You tell me!” she yelled, but she was smiling. “Technically you haven’t asked yet.” “Goddamnit, Bennett! You haven’t, either!” “Will you marry me?” I asked, laughing. “Will you marry me?” With a growl, I took the box and dropped it on the floor, flipping her onto her back.

Researchers at Shanghai Jiao Tong University in China, Saga University in Japan, and the University of California, Davis, proposed creating an artificial inorganic leaf modeled on the real thing. They took a leaf of Anemone vitifolia, a plant native to China, and injected its veins with titanium dioxide-a well-known industrial photocatalyst. By taking on the precise branching shape and structure of the leaf's veins, the titanium dioxide produced much higher light-harvesting ability than if ti was used in a traditional configuration. The researchers found an astounding 800 percent increase in hydrogen production as well. The total performance was 300 percent more active than the world's best commercial photocatalysts. When they added platinum nanoparticles to the mix, it increased activity by a further 1,000 percent.

During mission planning, we had intelligence concerning dogs that might impede our goal and were part of the target’s contingencies. The exact method used to neutralize aggressive dogs in the field is classified information. However, Special Ops has some really incredible dogs. In fact, during the raid to kill Osama bin Laden, the highly trained men of SEAL Team Six had with them a uniquely trained dog as part of the mission. SEAL canines are not your standard bomb-sniffing dogs. The dog on the bin Laden mission was specially trained to jump from planes and rappel from helicopters while attached to its handler. The dog wore ballistic body armor, had a head-mounted infrared (night-vision) camera, and wore earpieces to take commands from the handler. The dog also had reinforced teeth, capped with titanium. I would not want to try the techniques this book recommends on this dog. Thank God he’s on our side.

Jenna is acting strange. Weeping, moping, even remarks tending toward belittlement Melmoth might tolerate (although he cannot think why; she is not his wife and even in human females PMS is a plague of the past) but when he caught her lying about Raquel—udderly wonderful, indeed—he knew the problem was serious. After sex, Melmoth powers her down. He retrieves her capsule from underground storage, a little abashed to be riding up with the oblong vessel in a lobby elevator where anyone might see. Locked vertical for easy transport, the capsule on its castors and titanium carriage stands higher than Melmoth is tall. He cannot help feeling that its translucent pink upper half and tapered conical roundness make it look like an erect penis. Arriving at penthouse level, he wheels it into his apartment. Once inside his private quarters, he positions it beside the hoverbed and enters a six-character alphanumeric open-sesame to spring the lid. On an interior panel, Melmoth touches a sensor for AutoRenew. Gold wands deploy from opposite ends and set up a zero-gravity field that levitates Jenna from the topsheet. As if by magic—to Melmoth it is magic—the inert form of his personal android companion floats four feet laterally and gentles to rest in a polymer cradle contoured to her default figure. Jenna is only a SmartBot. She does not breathe, blood does not run in her arteries and veins. She has no arteries or veins, nor a heart, nor anything in the way of organic tissue. She can be replaced in a day—she can be replaced right now. If Melmoth touches “Upgrade,” the capsule lid will seal and lock, all VirtuLinks to Jenna will break, and a courier from GlobalDigital will collect the unit from a cargo bay of Melmoth’s high-rise after delivering a new model to Melmoth himself. It distresses him, how easy replacement would be, as if Jenna were no more abiding than an oldentime car he might decide one morning to trade-in. Seeing her in the capsule is bad enough; the poor thing looks as if she is lying in her coffin. Melmoth does not select “Power Down” on his cerebral menu any more often than he must. Only to update her software does Melmoth resort to pulling Jenna’s plug. Updating, too, disturbs him. In authorizing it, he cannot pretend she is human. [pp. 90-91]

One of the most poignant of architectural metaphors is to be seen in the Holocaust Museum in Berlin by Daniel Libeskind (Figure 107). Its form abounds in sharp points from the plan to the shape of openings. Its cladding in zinc copper titanium alloy adds menace to the razor-sharp edges and angles. The apparently arbitrary positioning of openings in the elevations originate in lines connecting the addresses of Jewish victims of the Nazis across Berlin. Vigorously clashing shapes put the finishing touch to a building which is a most eloquent memorial to the suffering of the Jews in the Second World War. It is the architectural equivalent of Picasso’s Guernica .

As he seeks to improve Under Armour materials, Blakely increasingly focuses on the earliest stages of the manufacturing process. Starting early provides more possible ways to add features. To develop a cooling fabric, for instance, the company worked with an Asian supplier to develop a yarn whose cross section maximized its surface area. It then infused the material with titanium dioxide, whose presence makes people exercising in hot, humid environments feel cooler.16 Under Armour

Right now, the only sunscreen ingredients that the FDA has legally given “generally recognized as safe” (GRAS) status are zinc oxide and titanium oxide (Bedosky 2019; Environmental Working Group 2020).

Kevlar for hide, Titanium for spine. Take the leap, beyond the creed - Awake, arise, o humankind!

and one thing that had puzzled her: a yard of narrow-gauge titanium wire, fixed to wooden handles at each end,

incautious couples can fall into habits that are not always conducive to happiness, and yet are not so awful as to require divorce.

I’m half titanium now. They had to rebuild my face and the left side of my lower body. I had a shattered pelvis, broken femur—” He went on, listing the injuries to his leg and pelvis. The placement of rods and screws the doctors had used to put him back together. My chest ached as he spoke robotically about his surgeries and the initial recovery process. Maybe that was the only way he could talk about it. It was so much. Too much.

Well,” I say, “life is the process of learning shit that you never ever wanted to hear.

Guilt is a luxury no one can afford in this life, least of all people like you. Don’t buy it.

Ordinary people always underestimate the complexity of revolutions. Revolutionaries, too, of course, but they learn the hard way.

Making trail conversation, Misplaced asked Resolve how he broke his ankle. After Resolve shared the details and described the surgery, Misplaced couldn’t help but ask, “How does it feel to hike with that titanium plate?” Resolve’s answer struck Misplaced with its honesty and underlying truth. “It hurts, but I knew it would. I made up my mind before I came on this hike that every step would be painful. But there are some long, hard, beautiful miles between Here and There, and I wanted to see all of them. It’s that way with any journey like this, even if you’re not injured. The only way to cover all those miles is to take one more step . . .  even if it hurts.

Hunt went on, “This metal … The Asteri have been researching a way to make the gorsian ore absorb magic, not suppress it.” Ruhn said, “Seems like ordinary titanium to me.” “Look closer,” Hunt said. “There are slight purple veins in it. That’s the gorsian stone. I’d know it anywhere.” “So what can it do?” Bryce asked. “If I’m right,” Hunt said hoarsely, “it can draw the firstlight from the ground. From all the pipes of it crisscrossing the land. These suits would draw up the firstlight and turn it into weapons. Brimstone missiles, made right there on the spot. The suit would never run out of ammo, never run out of battery life. Simply find the underground power lines, and it’d be charged up and ready to kill. That’s why they’re smaller—because they don’t need all the extra tech and room for the arsenal that the human suits require. A Vanir warrior could climb inside and essentially wear it like an exoskeleton—like armor.” Silence.

There’s no good guys and bad guys. Not really.” He looks back at me without blinking from somewhere endless I don’t want to go. “Yes, Mr. Sounder. There absolutely are.

Then he wrote a bunch of nasty stuff on Twitter about you and me and pasted in some of the ruder emoji….I don’t even know what this one means….” “Well,” said Mr. Lemoncello, “I’m sorry to lose him. No, wait. I’m not. I was thinking about my keys. I was sorry to lose those….

What is Directed Energy Deposition in 3D Printing Directed Energy Deposition (DED) is a term that encompasses technologies involving semi-automated powder spraying and wire welding for manufacturing. When applied to 3D shapes, DED is considered an additive manufacturing process. It typically results in a rougher surface compared to Powder Bed Fusion, due to the larger bead sizes and coarser powder used, which often necessitates additional machining. DED systems generally fall into two categories: deposition systems and hybrid systems that combine a DED head with traditional machining equipment. The main advantages of DED include faster deposition compared to powder bed fusion 3D printing and the ability to create functionally graded material structures, especially when using powder. Additionally, since the feedstock and energy source move together, DED systems can manufacture very large structures, unrestricted by the size limitations of a build box. In some cases, DED can be more effective than traditional manufacturing methods or powder bed fusion. Most DED systems consist of a deposition head that uses either wire or powder and is mounted on a robot or CNC system. Common energy sources include Arc, Laser, or Electron Beam, with lasers being the most frequently used for powder feedstock. The process involves offline programming to generate a tool path from a sliced CAD file. The motion system then follows this path, depositing material in layers to build the desired shape. DED is compatible with a variety of weldable alloys, such as aluminum, steel, nickel, and titanium. Depending on the chosen alloy and process, shielding gas may be applied locally or within an enclosed environment.

#4—Prepare “Titanium Tea” (this name was a joke, but it stuck) (2 to 3 minutes)

For example, two commonly used emulsifiers—carboxymethylcellulose and polysorbate 80—reduce microbial diversity, induce inflammation, and promote obesity and colitis in mice. Titanium dioxide (TiO) nanoparticles, found in more than nine hundred food products, worsen intestinal inflammation. Additives such as these were snuck into our diet through the “Generally Recognized As Safe” loophole. They were GRASed into our diet. Yes, GRAS needs to be used as a verb because that’s the only way to adequately describe the careless acceptance of chemicals into our food supply by our regulatory agencies.

Hell. I swallowed hard and traced a finger along one of the cuff bracelets. The color of platinum. “My God, Lee.” I picked one of them up and felt the weight of it in my hand. Such a simple design, straight lines, gleaming metal, about four or five millimeters wide, maybe two millimeters thick. Both had the same engraving. The Property and Love of Master Kingsley. Lee’s arms appeared under mine, and he placed a tiny screwdriver of sorts next to the box. It was the key, I realized. He was collaring me—permanently. Fuck. I wasn’t gonna cry, I wasn’t gonna cry. “Wear my collar,” he whispered in my ear. “For the rest of your life.” I nodded jerkily as my throat closed up. Holy shit, this was happening. “Always, Master.” He pressed himself closer to my back and took the first cuff from me. And he used the little screwdriver, in the same material, and unlocked the tiny lock. “Have you heard of cobalt chrome before?” he asked quietly. I shook my head, unable to stop staring at the cuffs. “Long before we started marketing it as an alternative for gold in wedding rings, we’ve used it for artificial joints, implants, and prosthetics because of how our bodies accept the metal.” He attached the first cuff around my left wrist, and it snapped into place with the faintest snick. Then he used the tool to secure the locking mechanism. “You’ll wear them day and night. You’ll shower with them. They’ll weather every storm, every fight-fuck in the woods, every flame from my Kevlar flogger, and any insecurity we might face together.” I sniffled and blinked past the sting in my eyes. “They’ll always be with you.” He moved on to the second cuff. “By default, I will always be with you too. They’re not just proof of my ownership—they’re a reminder that Master is one call away. And only he has the key.” My chest seized up, and the second both cuffs were locked into place, I spun in his embrace and threw my arms around his neck. I couldn’t fucking find my words. I just felt how full my heart was, how joy surged through me, how comfort threw a giant blanket over my existence. Lee tightened his arms around me and squeezed me so hard. “They’re never coming off.” “Good,” I croaked. “I love you so much.” Stronger than titanium. Like our love.

Physical sunscreen (also known as mineral sunscreen) sits on the skin like armor and forms a barrier between the sun and your skin to keep rays from penetrating. Titanium dioxide and zinc oxide are classic mineral sunscreen ingredients. Remember back in the day when lifeguards had that patch of white on their noses? That was mineral sunscreen, so it’s been around for a long time. The plus side of mineral-based sunscreens is that they’re gentle on the skin (and won’t irritate conditions like rosacea, which can be supersensitive to both the sun and sunscreen) and they work immediately upon application. With technological advances such as nanotechnology, many sunscreens are now formulated to be lightweight, blendable, and nongreasy, so your nose won’t look like a lifeguard’s. A chemical sunscreen (also known as synthetic sunscreen) filters the radiation by absorbing it and then transforming it into heat energy. Because it’s a chemical process, you should give it about fifteen minutes after application for it to soak in and work effectively.

Let me do this for you, Jessie.” “Why? Do you think I’m weak?” “Weak? No. You are titanium. But I would die if anything happened to you.

He now had a titanium rod screwed in his leg, from his knee to his ankle, which would remain there for the rest of his life. He would set off plenty of metal detectors, the surgeon had told him, but someday, he’d be able to walk again.

Some clients required tougher love than others; Asher required freaking titanium.

This woman makes me harder than titanium.

A golden heart, a diamond soul, a silver lining attitude and a titanium will power is the finest and the only jewellery I wear.

On the outside, you’re such a gentle person, Lucy, almost too passive sometimes. But your core is made of titanium, or at least it is where I’m concerned.

It was cool, his finger, being made of titanium, and he used it to stroke her, first on the outside, running it over her pubic hair until she began to moan, and then sliding it inside her.

Aside from all that, she was carrying about a million tons of titanium ore to the heavy industries on Gorda. All told, that would take care of their traveling arrangements for the next year or so, pretty much.

Sever breathed hard, hefting his hammer onto his shoulder. “This is pathetic. How are we supposed to fight you while you’re speaking words of love to your mate here?” “Make her go,” Dante said. “So we can finish you.

These vertical suburbs--jet black glass structures in matte-grey iron and titanium corsets.--boast their own mayors and their own municipal services. They flicker with illegally-rerouted power and pirated water--pumped up external piping from the Toronto Syndicate's aquifers in San Jaquin.

This is the M74 assault weapon. Developed during the war, in about 2025, near as we could tell, it is by far the most advanced infantry weapon ever made. The weapon itself is incredibly impressive, but it is the platform that really makes it incredible. It fires a .202 caliber round that has a small bundle of titanium flechettes imbedded in soft lead and jacketed in a copper alloy. While the caliber sounds small, the Muzzle velocity is fifty eight hundred feet per second, which gives it more kinetic energy than the rounds you fired with your M1.” He handed Jack one of the rounds. It looked like just a bullet, not an entire round. “When the round hits a target, the lead mushrooms like the ammo you are used to, but the flechettes spread out and continue on, tearing through just about any kind of armor you can imagine. Soft targets just cause the flechettes to sprawl through the body and cause maximum damage. The ammunition magazine holds two hundred rounds and weighs less than the twenty round magazine of the M14. The casing is only three quarters of an inch long and the entire round is a little over an inch. It uses a chemical that burns eight times faster than gunpowder and expands over fifteen times more. The reason the round is so small is because the chemical propellant is solid and doesn’t need a shell. It is completely consumed when firing, so nothing to eject. The gun uses a hybrid closed bolt system that completely contains the explosion, routing the excess energy to power the action, and even to help counter the recoil.” “Fifty eight hundred feet per second? Even a bullet that small needs a heck of a lot of energy to get moving that fast. This thing must kick like a mule.” “Actually, the action on the weapon uses a shock absorber filled with a magnetic fluid that changes viscosity depending on what the fire rate is set to. If you fire a single round, it softens up to make recoil almost nonexistent. If you go automatic, it stiffens up to increase the cyclic rate. The weapon itself is made of composite carbon fiber and titanium alloys, with a frictionless surface in the barrel and on all moving components. It’s a bitch to clean because each piece is like wet ice, but it almost never needs cleaning because nothing will stick to any part that matters.” He