Torque Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Torque. Here they are! All 93 of them:

Don't get pissy with me leech." With a glare, Carrow pressed her print to his torque. "Even tapped out, I can still do a love spell to make you fall in love--with the sun.
Kresley Cole (Dreams of a Dark Warrior (Immortals After Dark, #10))
We are product of the immense torque that propels this universe. We are not individuals but a great accumulation of all that lived before.
Tanya Tagaq (Split Tooth)
A day, a livelong day, is not one thing but many. It changes not only in growing light toward zenith and decline again, but in texture and mood, in tone and meaning, warped by a thousand factors of season, of heat or cold, of still or multi winds, torqued by odors, tastes, and the fabrics of ice or grass, of bud or leaf or black-drawn naked limbs. And as a day changes so do its subjects, bugs and birds, cates, dogs, butterflies and people.
John Steinbeck (The Winter of Our Discontent)
If books were roads, some would be made for driving quickly - details are scant, and what details there are appear drab - but the velocity and torque of the narrative is exhilarating. Some books, if seen as roads, would be make for walking - the trajectory of the road mattering far less than the vistas these roads might afford. The best book for me: I drive through it quickly but am forced to stop on occasion, to pull over and marvel.
Peter Mendelsund (What We See When We Read)
The shadow-past is shaped by everything that never happened. Invisible, it melts the present like rain through karst. A biography of longing. It steers us like magnetism, a spirit torque. This is how one becomes undone by a smell, a word, a place, the photo of a mountain of shoes. By love that closes its mouth before calling a name.
Anne Michaels (Fugitive Pieces)
... Ennis was back on his feet and somehow, as a coat hanger is straightened to open a locked car and then bent again to its original shape, they torqued things almost to where they had been, for what they'd said was no news. Nothing ended, nothing began, nothing resolved.
Annie Proulx (Brokeback Mountain)
Take care of your car in the garage, and the car will take care of you on the road.
Amit Kalantri (Wealth of Words)
I am emotional about engines, if you hurt my car, you hurt my heart.
Amit Kalantri (Wealth of Words)
She was tipping her head back to inquire, when two men entered the great hall and the question flew right out of her head. They were simply two of the most gorgeous men she'd ever seen. Twins, though different. They were both tall and powerfully built. One was taller by a few inches, with dark hair that swept just past his shoulders and eyes like shard of silver and ice while the other had long black hair falling in a single braid to his waist, and eyes as gold as Adam's torque. They were elegantly dressed in tailored clothing of dark hues, with magnificent bodies that dripped with raw sex appeal. Oh, my, she marveled, they don't amek men like these in the States. Were these typical Scotsmen? If so, she was going to have to get Elizabeth over here somehow. A connoisseur of romance novels, Elizabeth's favorites were the Scottish ones, and these two men looked as if they'd just stepped straight off one of those covers. "Try not to gape, ka-lyrra. They're only human. Mortal. Puny. And married. Both of them. Happily.
Karen Marie Moning (The Immortal Highlander (Highlander, #6))
The spring on a wound watch gets steadily looser, the torque grows closer and closer to zero, until he gears stop altogether and the hands come to rest at a set position. Silence descends. Isn't that all it is?
Haruki Murakami (Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage)
Like most policemen, Landsman sails double-hulled against tragedy, stabilized against heave and storm. It's the shallows he has to worry about, the hairline fissures, the little freaks of torque. The memory of that summer, for example, or the thought that he had long since exhausted the patience of a kid who once would have waited a thousand years to spend an hour with him shooting cans off a fence with an air rifle. The sight of the Longhouse breaks some small, as yet unbroken facet of Landman's heart. All of the things they made, during their minute in this corner of the map, dissolved in brambles of salmonberry and oblivion.
Michael Chabon (The Yiddish Policemen's Union)
Remember, never apply too much torque or you'll bust your nuts!!
Neil Leckman
Among all the machines, motorcar is my favorite machine.
Amit Kalantri (Wealth of Words)
The brain can be put to better use by reducing anxiety, just as reducing friction between threads can increase the torque transferred to the axial load.
Haresh Sippy
Watermelon Sugar” instead. Thank you, Harry Styles. You’re a true gentleman. You would never fuck with a woman’s torque wrenches and then force her to listen to Canada’s worst export.
Sophie Lark (Savage Lover (Brutal Birthright, #3))
It wasn’t good to mess around with knees. Knees were stupid. Like a ball and two sticks held together with rubber bands. It took way less torque than most people thought to screw up a knee.
Rob Hart (The Warehouse)
Asking someone else to drive your sports car is like asking someone else to kiss your girlfriend.
Amit Kalantri (Wealth of Words)
His fighting technique was a study in trigonometry, a beautiful composition of trajectories and rebounded forces. He won consistently because he had perfect control of distance and torque. He had the mathematics of fighting down to a science.
R.F. Kuang (The Poppy War (The Poppy War, #1))
To my surprise, Sloane pushed past Michael, wrapped dainty little hands around the barbell, and rocked back on her heels, angling it into place. Dean wiped his hands on his jeans, grabbed a nearby towel, and sat up. “Thanks,” he told Sloane. “Torque,” she said, instead of you’re welcome. “The role of the lever was played by my arms.
Jennifer Lynn Barnes (The Naturals (The Naturals, #1))
Torque was the greatest thing in the world, as far as Lina was concerned.
Jaleigh Johnson (The Secrets of Solace (World of Solace, #2))
The drivers for the jackpot are still in place, but with less torque at that particular point.” He took a seat at the table. “They’re still a bit in advance of the pandemics, at least.
William Gibson (Agency (Jackpot #2))
in some half-forgotten pesthole of twentieth-century case studies—filed under Cotard’s syndrome—I found Amanda Bates and others of her kind, their brains torqued into denial of the very self.
Peter Watts (Blindsight (Firefall, #1))
What to call it - the spark of God? Survival instinct? The souped-up computer of an apex brain evolved from eons in the R&D of natural selection? You could practically see the neurons firing in the kid’s skull. His body was all spring and torque, a bundle of fast-twitch muscles that exuded faint floral whiffs of ripe pear. So much perfection in such a compact little person - Billy had to tackle him from time to time, wrestle him squealing to the ground just to get that little rascal in his hands, just your basic adorable thirty-month-old with big blue eyes clear as chlorine pools and Huggies poking out of his stretchy-waist jeans. So is this what they mean by the sanctity of life? A soft groan escaped Billy when he thought about that, the war revealed in this fresh and gruesome light. Oh. Ugh. Divine spark, image of God, suffer the little children and all that - there’s real power when words attach to actual things. Made him want to sit right down and weep, as powerful as that. He got it, yes he did, and when he came home for good he’d have to meditate on this, but for now it was best to compartmentalize, as they said, or even better not to mentalize at all.
Ben Fountain (Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk)
There was a movement to my right, and I snuck a quick glance to see Zee and Gabriel coming out the garage door. They must have gone back around. Zee had a crowbar in one hand and held it like another man might hold a sword. Gabriel had— “Zee,” I squeaked. “Tell him to put the torque wrench back and grab something that won’t cost me five hundred dollars if he hits someone with it.” “Won’t cost five hundred,” said Zee, but as I glanced over again, he nodded at the white-faced Gabriel, who looked at what he held as if he’d never seen it before. The boy slipped back into the garage as Zee said, “It wouldn’t break it — you’d just have to get it recalibrated.” “We have a whole garage worth of tools — pry bars, tire irons, and even a hammer or two. There’s got to be something better than my torque wrench he could have grabbed.
Patricia Briggs (Silver Borne (Mercy Thompson, #5))
What do I mean? Well, let’s break down the body by movements, rather than by muscle: • Vertical Push: militaries, overhead stuff • Vertical Pull: pull-up, chin-up, lat pulldown • Horizontal Push: bench press • Horizontal Pull: row and the gang • Posterior Chain or Deadlift • Quad-dominant Lower Body: squat • Abs: crunch or ab wheel • Rotation or twist and torque movers: Russian twists • Single arm/single leg push/pulls: This can go on forever!
Dan John (Never Let Go: A Philosophy of Lifting, Living and Learning)
The upward spiral was checked from the mid-1980s and reversed around 1990. For the last couple of decades, the G7 share has been torqueing downward at a mighty pace. Today it is back to the level that it first attained at the very beginning of the nineteen century.
Richard Baldwin (The Great Convergence: Information Technology and the New Globalization)
You could practically see the neurons firing in the kid’s skull. His body was all spring and torque, a bundle of fast-twitch muscles that exuded faint floral whiffs of ripe pear. So much perfection in such a compact little person — Billy had to tackle him from time to time, wrestle him squealing to the ground just to get that little rascal in his hands, just your basic adorable thirty-month old with big blue eyes clear as chlorine pools and Huggies poking out of his stretchy-waist jeans. So is this what they meant by the sanctity of life?
Ben Fountain (Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk)
Savich stood over the metal parcel cage he’d been told was called an OTR, looked at the boxes scattered around it on the floor, streaked and smudged with blood like abstract paintings. Only the packages beneath the body had kept the blood from dripping out of the OTR. He looked down to see the body of an older man with a circle of gray hair around his head. He was torqued into a tight fetal position—difficult because he was heavy—his arms pulled between his legs. No deputy’s uniform. He wore a long-sleeved flannel shirt, old jeans, and ancient brown boots. Impossible to tell what sort of man he’d been—if he’d enjoyed jokes, if he’d loved his family, if he’d been honorable—that was all wiped away, gone in an instant, when the Athame was stuck into his heart. There had to be people out there already worrying about Kane Lewis, wondering where he was. They’d find out soon enough. Savich imagined he’d been a pleasant-looking man, but not in death. No, not in death.
Catherine Coulter
It doesn't matter. The same thing has nearly happened a few times already. It's just a physical phenomenon, no more. The spring on a wound watch gets steadily loser, the torque grows closer and closer to zero, until the gears stop altogether and the hands come to rest at a set position. Silence descends. Isn't that all it is.
Haruki Murakami (Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage)
There are certain words that have such a pleasing consistency, texture, taste, colour, odour, network, milieu, stance, poise, arch, crane, comfort, peak, trough; limpid, tepid, torpid, torqued, liquid, lacquered, honeyed, latched, thatched, throstle-sunged, spangled words. The normal pH of these words is between 3.8 and 4.5, so there is some bite to them.
Eley Williams
I am so obsessed with the cars that sometimes I feel like my heart is not a muscle, it's an engine.
Amit Kalantri (Wealth of Words)
As the helicopter fell, its dead rotors started to spin, and Ruvola used that energy to slow the aircraft down. Like downshifting a car on a hill, a hovering auto-rotation is a way of dissipating the force of gravity by feeding it back through the engine. By the time the helicopter hit the water it had slowed to a manageable speed, and all the torque had been bled out of the rotors;
Sebastian Junger (The Perfect Storm: A True Story of Men Against the Sea)
Everyone has left something here – the unnamed tribes, the Celts, the Romans, the Vikings, the Saxons, the Normans and all those who came after, they have all left their lost property – the buttons and fans, the rings and torques, the bullae and fibulae. The riverbank winks momentarily with a thousand, zillion, million pins. A trick of the light. The past is a cupboard full of light and all you have to do is find the key that opens the door. Pg486
Kate Atkinson (Behind the Scenes at the Museum)
If it were an ordinary company in the old days he’d have been yelling at them by now, calling them shit-for-brains, ordering them to reach deep, find the character, torquing their emotions to the breaking point and telling them to use the resulting blood and pain, use it! But these are fragile egos. Some have taken anger management therapy, so yelling by him would set a bad example. For others, depression is never far. Push them too much and they’ll collapse. They’ll give up, even his key players. They’ll walk out. It’s happened before.
Margaret Atwood (Hag-Seed)
I’m not the first to want what I can’t have, but my problem runs irreparably darker than that. My dark lust can’t be sated by normal means, or even slightly less-than-normal means. Role playing and dominant games with their bullshit negotiations and imposed limits don’t do it for me.
Skye Callahan (Ignition & Torque (Limited Edition Boxed Set) (Redline, #1 & 2))
The helicopter was equipped with no bombsights or targeting mechanisms that could help them here. To drop the sandbags into the reactor vault, the flight engineer had to aim as best he could by eye, estimate a trajectory, and shove them through the door one at a time. As he leaned out over the reactor, he was enveloped in clouds of toxic gas and blasted by waves of gamma and neutron radiation. He had no protection apart from his flight suit. The intense heat rising from below made it impossible for Nesterov to hover: if the helicopter lost forward momentum, it would be caught in the column of superheated air, its rotor blades would encounter a calamitous drop in torque, and the machine would fall abruptly out of the sky.
Adam Higginbotham (Midnight in Chernobyl: The Untold Story of the World's Greatest Nuclear Disaster)
By first light, immigrants haul crates of melons and buckets of ice over the narrow cobblestone streets. Old men sell salted capers and branches of wild oregano while the young ones build their fish stands, one silvery torqued body at a time, like an edible art installation. It's a startling scene: gruff young palermitani, foul-mouthed and wreathed in cigarette smoke, lovingly laying out each fish at just the right angle, burrowing its belly into the ice as if to mimic its swimming position in the ocean. Sicilian sun and soil and ingenuity have long produced some of Italy's most prized raw ingredients, and the colors of the market serve as a map of the island's agricultural prowess: the forest green pistachios of Bronte; the Crayola-bright lemons and oranges of Paternò; the famous pomodorini of Pachino, fiery orbs of magical tomato intensity.
Matt Goulding (Pasta, Pane, Vino: Deep Travels Through Italy's Food Culture (Roads & Kingdoms Presents))
Like a gust of wind, Scott swept past all of this. The scenery stretched and distorted in his vision, blurring like the wild strokes of Postimpressionists. He had to keep himself from howling, and all sound was tossed behind with the streaming air, fading rapidly. He shifted and sensed the higher torque from a lower gear, as though the mechanical beast between his legs had melded with his body so that no matter what the road conditions, the machine would sensitively and appropriately translate his intent into motion. Fusing Man with machine. The idea surfaced in Scott’s mind, unbidden. Just like the shocking tale he had heard a few hours ago. The mysterious prosthesis with the serial number SBT-VBPII32503439 was intended to replace the back of the skull between the coronal suture and the lambdoid suture, including parts of the parietal and occipital bones.
Chen Qiufan (Waste Tide)
His light blue shuma and silver torque did nothing to hide the mass of cuts, scrapes, and purple bruises that covered his body and made his iridescent tattoos practically glow by contrast. He had a dark bruise under one eye that ran all the way down to the ulumi-lia tattoo on his cheekbone, and another on his jaw. “This?” He gestured to his battered frame. “Ono, moa halea.I was invited to partake in a wrestling match yesterday afternoon.” “A wrestling match with whom? Kukuna the Stone God?” His grin flashed, then faltered as the gesture tugged at his split lip. “It was a very intense match. And you have been reading the legends of my people. You are curious about Calberna. This is good.” She grimaced. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I read most of those legends before I met you so I could teach the children at the school about Calberna.” Then, because curiosity got the best of her, she asked, “So which one of Wynter’s men beat you to a pulp?” His brows rose. “I am unpulped.” “Not from where I’m standing. Or are you saying the other fellow looks worse?” He cocked his head to one side, as if considering, then gave that charming half grin again and said, “About the same. We declared it equal contest.” “Who did you leave unpulped then?” “It is of no concern. We had our match. We tested each other’s skill and resolve, and came away with a new understanding of each other.” 
C.L. Wilson (The Sea King (Weathermages of Mystral, #2))
This man is someone for whom the world isn’t a mystery. The world is a boulder, but it has levers and he knows when and where and how to apply just the right amount of force, and it moves for him, while my father and I, pushing up against it, don’t have any angle, any torque, no grip or traction or leverage. My father thinks success must be in direct proportion to effort exerted. He doesn’t know where or how to exert the least amount for the most gain, doesn’t know where the secret buttons are, the hidden doors, the golden keys. He thinks that, even if you have a great idea, there have to be trials and tribulations, errors and failures, a dark night of the soul, a slog, a time in the desert, a fallow period, a period of quiet, a period of silent and earnest and frustrated toiling before emerging, victorious, into the sunshine and acclaim. My father makes to-do lists, makes plans, makes business plans. This is how he starts, always with a blank sheet of graph paper. We make bullet points. We identify the key areas we need to research further. We try to figure out how to research those areas. We work in a vacuum. We work in his study. We ponder. We stare at our feet. We stare at the ceiling. We talk to each other, create a world, create a tiny, artificial, formal space, on a blank sheet of paper, where we can imagine rules and principles and categories and ideas, all of which have absolutely nothing to do with the actual world out there.
Charles Yu (How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe)
Brother Jeremiah staggered into view, his right hand clutching a still-burning torch, his parchment hood fallen back to reveal a face torqued into a grotesque expression of terror. His previously sewn-shut mouth gaped open in a soundless scream, the gory threads of torn stitches dangling from his shredded lips. Blood, black in the torchlight, spattered his light robes. He took a few staggering steps forward, his hands outstretched—and then, as Jace watched in utter disbelief, Jeremiah pitched forward and fell headlong to the floor.
Cassandra Clare (City of Ashes (The Mortal Instruments, #2))
It was also easy to do because just about everything annoyed them. I really got Abbie torqued one time while she was eating a tuna sandwich and droning on about how she only ate tuna that were "dolphin safe" as she called it. I pointed out it wasn't so safe for the tuna, which she must have turned her back on when it came to caring about God's little creations, since she had a mouthful of the tasty things. She got so red I thought her head was going to explode.
Bobby Underwood (The Idaho Affairs)
...biographies and categories fall along often conflicting trajectories. Lives are twisted, even torn, in the attempt to force the one into th eother. These torques might be petty or grand, but they are a way of understanding the coconstruction of lives and their categories.
Geoffrey Bowker; Susan Leigh Starr
The shadow past is shaped by everything that never happened. Invisible, it melts the present like rain through karst. A biography of longing. It steers us like magnetism, a spirit torque. This is how one becomes undone by a smell, a word, a place, the photo of a mountain of shoes. By love that closes its mouth before calling a name.
Anne Michaels (Fugitive Pieces)
I can infer the words you aren’t saying. If I were yours this would never happen again. No one would ever lay a hand on me,” she mocked. “You’d treat me better, like a queen, and we’d live happily ever after.” He had no rebuttal. His eyes shifted to her gold torque, abandoned on his nightstand. Not queen, but close. My blood is strong. Ancient. You would be...formidable. We would not live ever after, but hunt together forevermore.
Armada West (war/SONG)
* * * WHEN TOM CAME home, it was much later than he’d planned. But he’d taken the shuttle bus to school, because only bungholes drove after drinking whiskey, and Tom was a bunghole in some ways, but not that way. Drunk driving, driving while texting, walking while texting...it would not be the way he died. So he’d done some work on a demonstration he’d be showing the students about wind sheer and torque and made good use of his time at school. Might as well. Then, Droog had shown up, and he and Tom ended up getting a beer, and Tom told his boss the news that he was getting married. “Ah!” Droog cried. “You and Mees Holland have dee cleek! Yes!
Kristan Higgins (The Perfect Match (Blue Heron #2))
But then they rounded a corner and nearly collided with Kaltain Rompier. The assassin would have grimaced, but she forgot all about Kaltain as her eyes fell upon her companion. It was an Eyllwe woman. She was stunning, long and lean, each of her features perfectly formed and smooth. Her loose white dress contrasted with her creamy brown skin, and a three-plated gold torque covered much of her chest and neck. Bracelets of ivory and gold glimmered around her wrists, and her feet were sandaled beneath matching anklets. A thin circlet comprising dangling gold and jewels crowned her head. She had two male guards with her, armed to the teeth with an assortment of curved Eyllwe daggers and swords, both of them studying Chaol and Celaena closely—weighing the threat. The Eyllwe girl was a princess.
Sarah J. Maas (Throne of Glass (Throne of Glass, #1))
Biological databases impose particular limitations on how biological objects can be related to one another. In other words, the structure of a database predetermines the sorts of biological relationships that can be 'discovered'. To use the language of Bowker and Star, the database 'torques,' or twists, objects into particular conformations with respect to one another. The creation of a database generates a particular and rigid structure of relationships between biological objects, and these relationships guide biologists in thinking about how living systems work. The evolution of GenBank from flat-file to relational to federated database paralleled biologists' moves from gene-centric to alignment-centric to multielement views of biological action.
Hallam Stevens (Life Out of Sequence: A Data-Driven History of Bioinformatics)
The reason ordinary matter lies in a disk and not a small ball is the matter’s net rotation, which it inherited from the gas clouds that acquired angular momentum (momentum of rotation) in their formation. Cooling lowers resistance to collapse in one direction, but collapse in the two others is prevented or at least lessened by the centrifugal force of the rotation of the gas it contains. Without friction or some other force acting on it, a marble that you set in motion around a circular track will keep rolling forever. Similarly, once matter is rotating, it will keep its angular momentum until some torque acts on it or it can dissipate angular momentum along with energy. Because angular momentum is conserved, gaseous regions cannot collapse as efficiently in the radial direction (as defined by rotation) as in the vertical one. Though matter might collapse in the direction parallel to the axis of rotation, it won’t collapse in the radial direction unless angular momentum is somehow removed. This differential collapse is what gives rise to the relatively flat disk of the Milky Way, which we observe stretching across the sky. It is also what gives rise to the disks of most spiral galaxies.
Lisa Randall (Dark Matter and the Dinosaurs: The Astounding Interconnectedness of the Universe)
My Mission (The Sonnet) I am not here to inspire butcher doctors, I am here to build humanitarian doctors. I am not here to entertain reckless coders, I am here to invigorate humanitarian coders. I am not here to arouse mindless engineers, I am here to torque up humanitarian engineers. I am not here to pamper crooked politicians, I am here to wake up the brave world builders. I am not here to applaud counterfeit philanthropy, I am here to energize humanitarian entrepreneurs. I am not here to peddle the glory of logic over life, I'm here to raise humanitarian scientists 'n philosophers. There is no rest till humanity courses through human veins. My mission is to flood the world with humanitarians by the thousands.
Abhijit Naskar (Corazon Calamidad: Obedient to None, Oppressive to None)
As long as you're wrestling for the knife, the guy with the knife has a HUGE advantage. A solid slap to the side of the head serves the vital role of disrupting the opponent's offensive mindset. As long as he's thinking, “Cut, cut, stab, slash, stab....” you're screwed. A solid thwap! to the side of the head is necessary to create a gap that you can exploit. Although GM Maranga has a different method of creating the gap, he is in total agreement that some sort of interruption is needed, something to jar the assailant out of his attack, or else you'll never succeed in disarming him. From the interview position, twist counterclockwise and swat the side of the opponent's head with the left palm. Coincidentally, this body twist is the same as that used to evade the knife. Like the hook punch, this blow is thrown with torque from the hips rather than movements of the arm and shoulder. Practice this on the focus mitt, with your partner holding the mitt in his left hand, canted upward at an angle. When you strike, do not hit with the fingers or the knuckle joints on the palm, but with the hollow of the palm. Like the elbow, don't push the hand, but whip it through. When you hit the pad correctly, you'll hear a deep, resounding thwap! Putting It All Together Like the first move, practice all of the elements individually, then slowly practice linking them all together. The twist, parry, and slap should all occur in one smooth, explosive movement. Have a partner thrust slowly with a dummy knife while holding the punch mitt in position for the slap. Gradually increase your speed and power. If all you have is these three elements –the twist, parry, and slap-- you've defended yourself and created a gap that you can exploit to get the hell out of there. When a knife is involved, don't be too proud to run.
Darrin Cook (Steel Baton EDC: 2nd Edition)
I’m with Jaron Lanier, who likes to describe the most amazing moment in VR as the moment when you take the HMD off and are flooded with the full gamut of subtle sensory inputs that VR can’t capture—fine gradations of light, smells, the sensation of air moving on your skin, the weight and torque of the headset in your hand—these are all sensations that are incredibly difficult, if not impossible, to effectively simulate in a virtual world.
Jeremy Bailenson (Experience on Demand: What Virtual Reality Is, How It Works, and What It Can Do)
A day, a livelong day, is not one thing but many. It changes not only in growing light toward zenith and decline again, but in texture and mood, in tone and meaning, warped by a thousand factors of season, of heat or cold, of still or multi winds, torqued by odors, tastes, and the fabrics of ice or grass, of bud or leaf or black-drawn naked limbs. As a day changes so do its subjects, bugs and birds, cats, dogs, butterflies and people.
John Steinbeck
The world is huge,” muttered the witcher. “We can find room. There’s enough space.” “The world is huge,” repeated the elf. “That’s true, human. But you have changed this world. At first, you used force to change it. You treated it as you treat anything that falls into your hands. Now it looks as if the world has started to fit in with you. It’s given way to you. It’s given in.” Geralt didn’t reply. “Torque spoke the truth,” continued Filavandrel. “Yes, we are starving. Yes, we are threatened with annihilation. The sun shines differently, the air is different, water is not as it used to be. The things we used to eat, made use of, are dying, diminishing, deteriorating. We never cultivated the land. Unlike you humans, we never tore at it with hoes and ploughs. To you, the earth pays a bloody tribute. It bestowed gifts on us. You tear the earth’s treasures from it by force. For us, the earth gave birth and blossomed because it loved us. Well, no love lasts forever. But we still want to survive.
Andrzej Sapkowski (The Last Wish (The Witcher, #0.5))
The world is huge,” muttered the witcher. “We can find room. There’s enough space.” “The world is huge,” repeated the elf. “That’s true, human. But you have changed this world. At first, you used force to change it. You treated it as you treat anything that falls into your hands. Now it looks as if the world has started to fit in with you. It’s given way to you. It’s given in.” Geralt didn’t reply. “Torque spoke the truth,” continued Filavandrel. “Yes, we are starving. Yes, we are threatened with annihilation. The sun shines differently, the air is different, water is not as it used to be. The things we used to eat, made use of, are dying, diminishing, deteriorating. We never cultivated the land. Unlike you humans, we never tore at it with hoes and ploughs. To you, the earth pays a bloody tribute. It bestowed gifts on us. You tear the earth’s treasures from it by force. For us, the earth gave birth and blossomed because it loved us. Well, no love lasts forever. But we still want to survive.” “Instead of stealing grain, you can buy it. As much as you need. You still have a great many things that humans consider valuable. You can trade.” Filavandrel smiled contemptuously. “With you? Never.” Geralt frowned, breaking up the dried blood on his cheek. “The devil with you, then, and your arrogance and contempt. By refusing to cohabit, you’re condemning yourselves to annihilation. To cohabit, to come to an understanding, that’s your only chance.” Filavandrel leaned forward, his eyes blazing. “Cohabit on your terms?” he asked in a changed, yet still calm, voice. “Acknowledging your sovereignty? Losing our identity? Cohabit as what? Slaves? Pariahs? Cohabit with you from beyond the walls you’ve built to fence yourselves away in towns? Cohabit with your women and hang for it? Or look on at what half-blood children must live with? Why are you avoiding my eyes, strange human? How do you find cohabiting with neighbors from whom, after all, you do differ somewhat?” “I manage.” The witcher looked him straight in the eyes. “I manage because I have to. Because I’ve no other way out. Because I’ve overcome the vanity and pride of being different. I’ve understood that they are a pitiful defense against being different. Because I’ve understood that the sun shines differently when something changes, but I’m not the axis of those changes. The sun shines differently, but it will continue to shine, and jumping at it with a hoe isn’t going to do anything. We’ve got to accept facts, elf. That’s what we’ve got to learn.
Andrzej Sapkowski (The Last Wish (The Witcher, #0.5))
With your dream catcher feathers And your torques blue medallion Your shinning white pearl necklace, Your face pressed against the ocean In your old age standing there against the wind Searching for the key to life
Kenan Hudaverdi (LA VIGIE : THE LOOKOUT)
When you’re a boy thinking you’ll grow into a man but it doesn’t work out like that, it really torques your Oedipal complex.
Joan Reginaldo (fresh cuts 2: the skinning volume)
Before We Begin Is Your Bug A nice clean original car that looks almost like it left the showroom yesterday? P.S. All work should be carried out in consultation with a reliable workshop manual with regard to torque settings, gaps, procedures, sequences disassembly, reassembly, where to hide the leftover parts, etc. I will accept no responsibility for anything resulting from you or anybody else trying anything as described in this document whatsoever – but if it works or you end up with some amusing stories to tell someone else’s grandchildren, please feel free to drop me a line. (No death threats please.) Sincerely, Christina Engela
Christina Engela (Bugspray)
I love the wheels, I mean steering wheel.
Amit Kalantri (Wealth of Words)
Har!” Tormund laughed. That had not changed either; he still laughed easily and often. “Wise words. I’d not want you crows to peck me to death.” He slapped Jon’s back. “When all my folk are safe behind your Wall, we’ll share a bit o’ meat and mead. Till then …” The wildling pulled off the band from his left arm and tossed it at Jon, then did the same with its twin upon his right. “Your first payment. Had those from my father and him from his. Now they’re yours, you thieving black bastard.” The armbands were old gold, solid and heavy, engraved with the ancient runes of the First Men. Tormund Giantsbane had worn them as long as Jon had known him; they had seemed as much a part of him as his beard. “The Braavosi will melt these down for the gold. That seems a shame. Perhaps you ought to keep them.” “No. I’ll not have it said that Tormund Thunderfist made the free folk give up their treasures whilst he kept his own.” He grinned. “But I’ll keep the ring I wear about me member. Much bigger than those little things. On you it’d be a torque.
Anonymous
Never torque a man's nuts unless you are his mechanic!!
Neil Leckman
Saylor and Beau worked together not like a piston head turned by a camshaft, but like the torque created from such synchronicity.
Suzanne Cowles (Shallow Basin)
An arrow can only be shot by pulling it backward. When you feel like you are being dragged back by difficulties, it means that you are torqueing up to launch forward.” – ANONYMOUS
Gordon Tredgold (Leadership: It's a Marathon, Not a Sprint)
without being tiresome. They lacked that all-important dimension of physics: torque. Too much time ahead, too little behind, like a man trying to carry a horizontal ladder with a grip at one end.
Nancy Kress (Beggars in Spain (Sleepless, #1))
Like the original concept, the stormrider had rectangular blades, sixteen of them radiating out from the hub, each one a flat lattice of struts twenty-five kilometers long, made from the toughest steelsilicon fibers the Commonwealth knew how to manufacture. Twenty-three kilometers of them were covered by an ultra-thin silvered foil, giving a total surface area of over one thousand eight hundred square kilometers for the solar wind to impact on. Even in an ordinary solar system environment that would have produced a considerable torque. In the Half Way system the stormrider was positioned at the Lagrange point between the red star and its neutron companion, right in the middle of the plasma current, where the ion density was orders of magnitude thicker than any normal solar wind. The power the stormrider produced when it was in the thick of the flow was enough to operate the wormhole generator. But it couldn’t simply sit at the Lagrange point producing electricity continuously; that would have been too much like perpetual motion. As the waves of plasma pushed against it, they exerted an unremitting pressure on the blades that blew the stormrider away from the Lagrange point out toward the neutron star. So for five hours the two sets of blades would turn in opposite directions, generating electricity for the Port Evergreen wormhole that was delivered via a zero-width wormhole. The stormrider also stored some of the power, so that at the end of the five hours when it was out of alignment, it had enough of a reserve to fire its onboard thrusters, moving itself even farther out of the main plasma stream where the pressure was reduced. From there it chased a simple fifteen-hour loop back around through open space to the Lagrange point, where the cycle would begin again.
Peter F. Hamilton (Judas Unchained (Commonwealth Saga, #2))
Very terrifying too were the appearance and the gestures of the naked warriors in front, all in the prime of life, and finely built men, and all in the leading companies richly adorned with gold torques and armlets. The sight of them indeed dismayed the Romans, but at the same time the prospect of winning such spoils made them twice as keen for the fight.
Polybius (The Histories)
Stars, Sam. We mucked it. I mean, I mucked it. And not just for us. Yet I recall pure joy: your bike hot between my legs, your arms locked ’round my waist. I recall poor Second’s chiding before I blinked it off. I recall laughter and all of those soldiers from someone else’s war standing on that terrace singing yet another Terran victory rag. You told me later that you didn’t know I’d make a run at the canyon wall ’til I torqued it, thumbing your bike’s twin throttles hard enough to singe our legs as the acceleration turned into an increasing roar. By the time we hit fifty, I couldn’t even hear you yelling at me to stop over the wind. I didn’t think you were serious. We’d climbed that mesa in daylight when we were younger, smaller, bendier. We’d done it with safety rails and belts, with hoverbikes that floated back down like carnival balloons when we failed; we’d done it with our parents cheering and a Grass Priest standing watch in case we needed healing. That run should’ve been a lark, Sam. But the night was dark as space, and our planet has no moon. You grabbed hard as I pulled the yoke. The engines screamed. I meant to pull up, climb that mesa vertically—see if we could rocket to the top before I gunned again like we’d done a hundred times as kids. But I timed it too late. I saw the mesa wall in our headlamps, and then everything went black. The next thing I recall is waking up on the Unity ship Ascendant with Ken’ri Mureen of Glos smiling down at me. Those big round eyes in her lovely, lying face. I thought I’d surely killed you, Sam, but Mureen swore you were fine. Mureen swore removing my Second was only temporary—swore surgery would fix the soup the crash had made of my brain. She made me sign forms, and then Ma came in with pastries. I still didn’t believe you’d made it out, but Ma swore it too. You know the gist after that—mostly—but there’s a lot I never told—
H.M.H. Murray (Navvy Dreams (Tales From a Stinking, Star-Crossed Milky Way #1))
I can see little burrs where some alien mechanic over-torqued them. The heads are knurled so aliens can turn ’em with their alien fingers when they are loose. The only question is: clockwise, or counterclockwise?” She jammed a driver into place, whacked it once with the heel of her hand to seat it, and grunted as she applied torque. “Counterclockwise,” she announced. For some reason this caused a cheer to run through the crowd of avout. “The Geometers are right-handed!” someone called, and everyone laughed.
Neal Stephenson (Anathem)
I’m Laurel,” said a lady who was putting out a serving of tea and snacks. “Hi, Laurie. I’m Ike.” “Laurel. Heard a lot about you, lately.” Wren sat. “You’ve been the lead story here since Thursday. Is sage okay?” She meant the tea. “I’m good with sage.” Laurel asked if he wanted something else to drink, but Ike demurred. “Are you a vegetarian?” “I am not.” Ike looked to Wren, thinking he might need to explain himself. “I do eat many vegetables. Swiss chard. Bok choy. Corn—on the cob or creamed. Kale.” “Radishes?” Wren asked. “You eat radishes?” “I never turn down radishes.” “Yams?” Pause. Pause. “Don’t like yams,” Ike confessed. He wondered if Wren Lane was a vegetarian or a vegan or some combination. If so, what would she think of his dietary practices? Was he suddenly a disappointment to her? New lead story: My Costar Eats Flesh! Was the dinner going to be all natural, garden grown, raw? “Forgive me my distaste of sweet potatoes, too.” “Squash? Squashes in general?” “A zucchini cut thin and well fried. I’m game.” “Well, tonight it’s build your own burger. Laurel can make a beet patty if you don’t want beef. Or turkey, as requested by Al.” “Can’t see beets replacing beef.” “They don’t!” Wren was vehement about that. It was then, right then, that Ike Clipper felt his place on the surface of the planet solidify, sensing an easing to the torque of Earth’s axis.
Tom Hanks (The Making of Another Major Motion Picture Masterpiece)
There is no way to physically recover the specific bends and torques, no way to recreate one hundred weekly hours of cell-squashing in seven, and no technology, at this time, smart enough to override nature.167
Scott H Hogan (Built from Broken: A Science-Based Guide to Healing Painful Joints, Preventing Injuries, and Rebuilding Your Body)
Have you tried to force a washer, it’s well-named agitator and spin basket still whirling madly, to stop right now? Even turning off the power, even unplugging, does not do it; there is so much residual torque built up that it insists on taking its own time, and meantime taking you for the ride. One would risk the literal limb to intervene. Steamroller. A person could get crushed around here. Having been in perpetual motion for so many years, it hurts to sit still unless there are ample DVDs, and enough wine. It hurts. Heat-seeking missiles like a target, a to-do list, a mission plan. Get me Mission Control: when do we launch this puppy?
Margaret Roach (And I Shall Have Some Peace There: Trading in the Fast Lane for My Own Dirt Road)
The radio is playing Drake. He changed my station. Are there no depths to which this man will not sink? I snap it back to Top Hits, swapping over to “Watermelon Sugar” instead. Thank you, Harry Styles. You’re a true gentleman. You would never fuck with a woman’s torque wrenches and then force her to listen to Canada’s worst export.
Sophie Lark (Savage Lover (Brutal Birthright, #3))
Now we see the connection to the Josephson junction. This sine function is the same one that appeared earlier in the direct-current Josephson effect, where the supercurrent is proportional to the sine of the phase across the junction. That’s the analogy: The phase across the junction is like the angle of the pendulum. As it turns out, all the other terms in the equation have counterparts as well. The flow of normal electrons corresponds to the damping of the pendulum caused by friction. The pendulum’s mass is like the junction’s capacitance. And the torque applied to the pendulum is like the external current driving the junction.
Steven H. Strogatz (Sync: How Order Emerges From Chaos In the Universe, Nature, and Daily Life)
If we make things even more complicated and allow the torque itself to vary in time, like the back and forth agitation of a washing machine, the pendulum’s whirling can become chaotic, rotating this way and that, changing direction haphazardly. The verification of the corresponding electrical spasms in a Josephson junction was one of the early experimental triumphs of chaos theory. Before that, physicists had always seen the pendulum as a symbol of clockwork regularity. Suddenly it was a paradigm of chaos.
Steven H. Strogatz (Sync: How Order Emerges From Chaos In the Universe, Nature, and Daily Life)
He was lying on his side, and the water pressed against his face forced him to turn his head and try to raise himself a couple of inches without losing track of where he was cutting the suit. His new position was too awkward to allow him to work efficiently, so he took a deep breath and lay flat again, torquing the blade around his calf, to keep cutting away the trapped suit mate rial. His lungs screamed for air, but he ignored his body's needs, working with preternatural calm despite the danger. He tried yanking himself free, but the tough plastic cloth wouldn't tear. He tried again with the same results. Now he had to breathe, so he heaved himself upright to clear his helmet of water, but there was too much pressure. The helmet wouldn't drain. Cabrillo's lungs convulsed, allowing a trickle of bubbles to es cape his lips. It was like suppressing a cough, and the correspond ing pain in his chest was an unnecessary reminder that his brain was starving for oxygen. He was already becoming light-headed. He pulled savagely at the suit and felt it tear slightly, but it wouldn't give completely. Juan tried to force himself to calm down, but survival instincts were overwhelming any sense of logic.
Clive Cussler (Plague Ship (Oregon Files, #5))
At the apex of the snake's resistance, its body formed a fine powerful arc that was held momentarily in perfect tension, like a bow. Woman and snake were perfectly attuned to the moment and the task, each focused on the other. Hermine's absolute command over the creature, like her power over all the island, was as inalterable as the equality of the three sides of an equilateral triangle. The storm-colored m'sauga gradually torqued her thick body into a flattened S in her silent, flowing resistance, matching the resistance of Hermine's right arm, and turned to reveal a smoky ribbed belly. Her mouth opened wide, as if in a yawn, and she revealed a pearly pink-white iridescence, the color of a princess dress or the inside of a river clam. Another wave of morel-mushroom musk rose as the venomous fangs bit the air in a staccato rhythm.
Bonnie Jo Campbell (The Waters)
We aren’t like the director. This man is someone for whom the world isn’t a mystery. The world is a boulder, but it has levers and he knows when and where and how to apply just the right amount of force, and it moves for him, while my father and I, pushing up against it, don’t have any angle, any torque, no grip or traction or leverage. My father thinks success must be in direct proportion to effort exerted. He doesn’t know where or how to exert the least amount for the most gain, doesn’t know where the secret buttons are, the hidden doors, the golden keys.
Charles Yu (How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe)
Torque can be security and power. You need power to control things. If you can control things, you can have security.
Thom Donovan (The Twin Affair)
She glimpsed only a flash of pale skin, night-dark hair, unfathomable beauty, and an onyx torque around his strong column of a neck, and—
Sarah J. Maas (Heir of Fire (Throne of Glass, #3))
...it was only natural that this mutual connection between sea and observer be forged: they were kindred spirits. The same, however, could not be done with the implacable moon: that imperious stalwart, which agitated the currents and spurned its beholder. This aloof satellite was formidable, yet neurotic, and so in spite of its ferocity, its movements were simple to predict, thereby granting this fearsome creature a veil of placidity. Its magnitude of torque was easily outmatched by that forceful heave of fear portending any misalignment with its anticipated schedule of phases. It cycled through these on time and without hesitation, experiencing, all the while, a wide array of emotions in response to the dissatisfied countenance of the Master it served. And yet, these changes in mood remained prosaic and careful, dutiful to its Patron; thusly, betraying nothing of its own resentments or intentionality either to its dismissed observer or to its demanding Patron, divulging nothing even of the influence which it potentially wielded over the Patron Planet, but which, in its lunar insecurity, never reached full expression save for the idle touslings of liquid fur. Perhaps it was diffident or bashful—otherwise, it was simple and had little prevailing ambition. Its motives were immaterial, in fact, for its aspirations were easily eclipsed and often countermanded and so one could not help but anticipate in its withered mien a certain resignation, a retreat to introspection away from the gazes of those who mistook its surrender to deterministic forces as a duty held most solemn. To be sure, it was a specter oft-romanticized by dullard poets and priests who admired it for its calming reserve, its gentle wisdom in juxtaposition with the histrionic impatience of the sea: like a tired guardian and a screaming toddler with primacy afforded counterintuitively to the guardian. What mattered more, in fact, was the subject of its influence: the willful and disobedient medium which spurned that hands that molded it. The moldings were more like jostles really and for a time they felt just and reasonable, but soon they came to confine and until verily there was no movement available that was not otherwise preordained by the will of the master. The accursed moon!
Ashim Shanker (Inward and Toward (Migrations, #3))
When the only tool that you have is a hydrospanner, every problem looks like something that needs to be torqued.
Michael A. Stackpole
Blacketter's prose is paired with the torque of a plot that lives and moves like an indomitable engine. This difficult and necessary story is inbreathed with a ferocity that leaves the reader shaken. In the end, through Blacketter's sure hand, we encounter a surprisingly intimate brush with our own desire for peace of soul, and in so doing, are drawn toward the ineffable mystery of how our contact with others inevitably carries with it a sense of infinite gravity.
--Shann Ray, author of American Masculine
What is proximate for one nation, one organization, or even one person may be far out of reach to another. The obvious reason is differences in skills and accumulated resources. My understanding of this was sharpened during an afternoon discussion about helicopters. A man I know only as PJ lives on the East Cape of Baja California, about thirty miles north of San Jose del Cabo, on the Sea of Cortez. He is now a surfer and fisherman, but PJ was once a helicopter pilot, first in Vietnam, and then in rescue work. The land in Baja California is unspoiled by shopping malls, industry, paved highways, or fences. Sitting on a hilltop in the warm winter we could see the gray whales jump and hear their tails slap on the water. Making conversation, I offered that “helicopters should be safer than airplanes. If the engine fails, you can autorotate to the ground. It’s like having a parachute.” PJ snorted. “If your engine fails you have to pull the collective all the way down, get off the left pedal and hit the right pedal hard to get some torque. You have about one second to do this before you are dropping too fast.” He paused and then added, “You can do it, but you better not have to think about it.” “So, everything has to be automatic?” I asked.
Richard P. Rumelt (Good Strategy Bad Strategy: The Difference and Why It Matters)
Your thoughts can either disrupt or advantage the quality of what you’re manifesting in your life, your experiences, and happiness. Heavy energy will depress your state of mind. Light energy will advantage your state of mind and provide the torque.
Penelope Jean Hayes (The Magic of Viral Energy: An Ancient Key to Happiness, Empowerment, and Purpose)
So what I’ve done is taken the four noble truths and torqued them into another shape. This reconfiguration enables us to revise the standard understanding of causality that underpins them. So instead of seeing craving as the cause of suffering, and the noble eightfold path as what leads to the end of suffering, I’ve turned that on its head. The experience of dukkha is actually what gives rise to reactivity. And the experience of nirvana is what allows the possibility of another way of life in this world. Now
Stephen Batchelor (Secular Buddhism: Imagining the Dharma in an Uncertain World)
The virus is a single word in the great wiki of hope and information, a mortal sleeperhold in spacetime, an earnest Tonga deathgrip on life. I’m the big world, there may be the end-of-days tectonic supernovae of bodyslams, the torque of tiger feint crucifix armbars on the topology of subspace, but the virus perseveres in its ardent intercellular replications, its ontological infections, its almost-endless epistemology of transmission.
Gary Barwin (I, Dr. Greenblatt, Orthodontist, 251-1457)
To enter this space is to inhabit the ruptural and enraptured disclosure of the commons that fugitive enlightenment enacts, the criminal, matricidal, queer, in the cistern, on the stroll of the stolen life, the life stolen by enlightenment and stolen back, where the commons give refuge, where the refuge gives commons. What the beyond of teaching is really about is not finishing oneself, not passing, not completing; it’s about allowing subjectivity to be unlawfully overcome by others, a radical passion and passivity such that one becomes unfit for subjection, because one does not possess the kind of agency that can hold the regulatory forces of subjecthood, and one cannot initiate the auto-interpellative torque that biopower subjection requires and rewards.
Fred Moten (the undercommons: fugitive planning & black study)
The black telephone sported a metal disk with finger-size holes bored around its edge. The Constable hooked the phone's handset over his epaulet and then began to insert his finger into various of these holes, using them to torque the disk around against the countervailing force of a spring.
Neal Stephenson (The Diamond Age)
The world is huge,” muttered the witcher. “We can find room. There’s enough space.” “The world is huge,” repeated the elf. “That’s true, human. But you have changed this world. At first, you used force to change it. You treated it as you treat anything that falls into your hands. Now it looks as if the world has started to fit in with you. It’s given way to you. It’s given in.” Geralt didn’t reply. “Torque spoke the truth,” continued Filavandrel. “Yes, we are starving. Yes, we are threatened with annihilation. The sun shines differently, the air is different, water is not as it used to be. The things we used to eat, made use of, are dying, diminishing, deteriorating. We never cultivated the land. Unlike you humans, we never tore at it with hoes and ploughs. To you, the earth pays a bloody tribute. It bestowed gifts on us. You tear the earth’s treasures from it by force. For us, the earth gave birth and blossomed because it loved us.
Andrzej Sapkowski (The Last Wish (The Witcher, #0.5))
DUI lawyer, you keep your own prison His massive night someone already enjoying the party, so that the bike control and race your friends, they are not only tortured in the police what to buy is bought. On their own, the rule of law continues, in fact, the subject-matter superhero yourself re probably on his own power to the wheel that says that the confusion comes in, things can actually almost non-existent, is not likely, it is an evil that has to comply. Therefore, it would be activated only in Jesus want to move, which at the time of completing the route in the direction of law enforcement officers is necessary, and Georgia DUI Lawyer subject and then focus your car drunk. In your case, confusion, and for decoration in production on their own is very concerned about the order itself,. We understand that they are very good in most cases some of these people; a positive amount of complexity is always the fault through your account may be on tap for this situation, which will be selected. Atlanta DUI attorney after yourself too soon, or to be supported by training. I myself, variable narrow result in the car to get a demo, get to swing, but the results do not put fear in the file show that it was only in contact those representatives. He just acquired the direction to get out of this mess myself, recognize that no doubt need. He said the interest of legal professionals and after this alignment, people need to adapt to the direction of finance check. Prison transfer, can not be happy with you for that matter, and so long as it is given that are not sold in their own thoughts, as if too large for the pocket, I Feeling reality. Thus, a number of cash to pay excessive torque just positive aspects to intervene. Control of blood or a chemical assessment, for example by dividing the right was a possibility of testing is a problem. The master is not active faults are largely beyond me, the situation in some aspects, and control independently acquired it ideal to slip that one device. All things trying our efforts to get a situation, which is a major factor in a lawyer blamed above address. In general, the choice of legal professional who is coming, and to get a good handle DUI to improve a lot to get there.
DuiTwoCaptain
Gears: Offer rotational motion and can change the speed and torque of the movement. ● Belts and Chains: Transfer rotational motion over distances. ● Screws and Lead Screws: Convert rotational motion into linear motion.
Cybellium Ltd (Mastering Robotics: A Comprehensive Guide to Learn Robotics)
Trajectory Planning: Choreographing the Motion Trajectory planning sits at the intersection of kinematics and dynamics. It's about determining a path from the robot's initial state to its final state, considering both kinematic constraints (like joint limits) and dynamic constraints (like force or torque limits).
Cybellium Ltd (Mastering Robotics: A Comprehensive Guide to Learn Robotics)
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