Ttt Quotes

Put up in a place where it is easy to see the cryptic admonishment T.T.T When you feel how depressingly slowly you climb it's well to remember that Things Take Time.

Frodo: I can't do this, Sam. Sam: I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness, and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end, because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something. Frodo: What are we holding on to, Sam? Sam: That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo...and it's worth fighting for.

... my heart skips a beat. Seriously, like a CD from the public library, it goes ZZebbTTT and skips.

This denial is bizarre. Last time Chomsky denied something I attributed to him, it was Chomsky's word against mine and there was no way to resolve this argument. This time, however, there's some fairly conclusive evidence. Look at http://blog.zmag.org/ttt/. It describes itself as 'the official weblog of Professor Noam Chomsky', and it is attached to Z Magazine, for which Chomsky has regularly written for over a decade. It claims Chomsky makes direct blog entries. Yet Chomsky claims he has 'nothing to with with it'. Are we really meant to believe this? If it is true, why does he carry on writing for a magazine that publishes a false blog in his name?

He’s a cop,” Amy said flatly. She refused to acknowledge the way his quick, amused smile made her head buzz. “And you don’t look like a Zander.” He smiled again. “No? I wasn’t aware there was a Zander look,” he said, clearly amused. “What would that look be, exactly?” “Backwoods hillbilly cousin-kissing redneck.” “Ttt.” Jam made a sound that might have been a laugh caught between her front teeth. It might also have been an admonition for Amy not to insult her friend. “Ignore her, Zander. She just doesn’t like hospitals. They make her cranky.

In most cases homeport for the sailor is the port where he feels most at ease. It’s the place he longs to be and normally where his sweetheart lives. Monrovia has none of these characteristics, but like a fungus it begins to grow on you! Day after day the fungus spreads and so it was with me. As I grew accustomed to the heat and incessant rain I found that I actually enjoyed sleeping in a hammock strung under the awning on the port side of the upper deck behind the stack. On the starboards side was the lifeboat which sheltered me some from the wind and driving rain. It was comfortable and cooler than my cabin below. You might say that I was as snug as a bug in a rug. Speaking of which; the mosquitos were usually blown away when the breeze was onshore, however the prevailing winds were easterlies off the continent which still wasn’t too bad but woe was me when they stopped blowing and the atmosphere became heavy hot and humid, laden with the insect that carried the dread parasite that caused malaria. My life was carefree, the food was good and for the most part I was the master not only of the MV Farmington but also of my destiny. When the cargo was secure and I had the time I would fire up my motor scooter and head into town. Life was good and although I missed my girlfriend Nora, the laid-back atmosphere of this nearly forgotten part of the world suited me. In time I joined the ranks of Monrovia’s cadre of transient misfits, backwater sailors, and ‘Typical Tropical Tramps’ or “TTT’s” as we proudly called ourselves. It wasn’t anything I wished for, but slowly although incessantly it happened. Like the black fungus on every building in this decrepit tropical capital city, it grew on me as it did on everyone else.

Expectations are hot air balloons filled with pain, you feel happy to see them going up with time and when they burst, it hell hurts!! Follow my writings on @YourQuote.in #yourquote #quote #stories #ttt #qotd #quoteoftheday #wordporn #quotestagram #wordswag #life #wordsofwisdom #inspirationalquotes #inspiration #writeaway #love #thoughts #poetry #instawriters #writersofinstagram #writersofig #writersofindia #igwriters #igwritersclub

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He’s a cop,” Amy said flatly. She refused to acknowledge the way his quick, amused smile made her head buzz. “And you don’t look like a Zander.” He smiled again. “No? I wasn’t aware there was a Zander look,” he said, clearly amused. “What would that look be, exactly?” “Backwoods hillbilly cousin-kissing redneck.” “Ttt.” Jam made a sound that might have been a laugh caught between her front teeth. It might also have been an admonition for Amy not to insult her friend. “Ignore her, Zander. She just doesn’t like hospitals. It makes her cranky.” -Shutter's Eye, Leigh Macfarlane

I thought I was special, exclaimed he. You’re, just not anymore.