Unforgettable Place Quotes

Unforgettable places, unforgettable people.

They [human lives] are composed like music. Guided by his sense of beauty, an individual transforms a fortuitous occurrence (Beethoven’s music, death under a train) into a motif, which then assumes a permanent place in the composition of the individual’s life. Anna could have chosen another way to take her life. But the motif of death and the railway station, unforgettably bound to the birth of love, enticed her in her hour of despair with its dark beauty. Without realizing it, the individual composes his life according to the laws of beauty even in times of greatest distress. It is wrong, then, to chide the novel for being fascinated by mysterious coincidences (like the meeting of Anna, Vronsky, the railway station, and death or the meeting of Beethoven, Tomas, Tereza, and the cognac), but it is right to chide man for being blind to such coincidences in his daily life. For he thereby deprives his life a dimension of beauty.

But Maven isn't finished. He takes a step, not forward but to the side. In my direction. The full force of his gaze almost knocks me out of my seat. "And I want to die the way my mother did," he says plainly, as if asking for an extra blanket. Again I feel too stunned to think. All I can do is keep my jaw locked in place so my mouth won't gape open in shock. "Ripped apart by your fury," he pushes on, his eyes horrible, unforgettable, searing into me. The brand on my collarboen seems to burn. "And your hatred.

Let me begin with a heartfelt confession. I admit it. I am a biblioholic, one who loves books and whose life would seem incomplete without them. I am an addict, with a compulsive need to stop by nearly any bookstore I pass in order to get my fix. Books are an essential part of my life, the place where I have spent many unforgettable moments. For me, reading is one of the most enjoyable ways to pass a rainy afternoon or a leisurely summer day. I crave the knowledge and insights that truly great books bring into my life and can spend transported hours scouring used book stores for volumes which "I simply must have". I love the smell and feel of well-loved books and the look of a bookcase full of books waiting to be taken down and read.

Early in the novel that Tereza clutched under her arm when she went to visit Tomas, Anna meets Vronsky in curious circumstances: they are at the railway station when someone is run over by a train. At the end of the novel, Anna throws herself under a train. This symmetrical composition - the same motif appears at the beginning and at the end - may seem quite "novelistic" to you, and I am willing to agree, but only on condition that you refrain from reading such notions as "fictive," "fabricated," and "untrue to life" into the word "novelistic." Because human lives are composed in precisely such a fashion. They are composed like music. Guided by his sense of beauty, an individual transforms a fortuitous occurrence (Beethoven's music, death under a train) into a motif, which then assumes a permanent place in the composition of the individual's life. Anna could have chosen another way to take her life. But the motif of death and the railway station, unforgettably bound to the birth of love, enticed her in her hour of despair with its dark beauty. Without realizing it, the individual composes his life according to the laws of beauty even in times of greatest distress. It is wrong, then, to chide the novel for being fascinated by mysterious coincidences (like the meeting of Anna, Vronsky, the railway station, and death or the meeting of Beethoven, Tomas, Tereza, and the cognac), but it is right to chide man for being blind to such coincidences in his daily life. For he thereby deprives his life of a dimension of beauty.

I told her about the best and the worst. The slow and sleepy places where weekdays rolled past like weekends and Mondays didn’t matter. Battered shacks perched on cliffs overlooking the endless, rumpled sea. Afternoons spent waiting on the docks, swinging my legs off a pier until boats rolled in with crates full of oysters and crayfish still gasping. Pulling fishhooks out of my feet because I never wore shoes, playing with other kids whose names I never knew. Those were the unforgettable summers. There were outback towns where you couldn’t see the roads for red dust, grids of streets with wandering dogs and children who ran wild and swam naked in creeks. I remembered climbing ancient trees that had a heartbeat if you pressed your ear to them. Boomboom-boomboom. Dreamy nights sleeping by the campfire and waking up covered in fine ash, as if I’d slept through a nuclear holocaust. We were wanderers, always with our faces to the sun.

You have to find a mother inside yourself. We all do. Even if we already have a mother, we still have to find this part of ourselves inside.’ She held out her hand to me. ‘Give me your hand.’ I lifted my left hand and placed it in hers. She took it and pressed the flat of my palm up against my chest, over my beating heart. ‘You don’t have to put your hand on Mary’s heart to get strength and consolation and rescue, and all the other things we need to get through life,’ she said. ‘You can place it right here on your own heart. Your own heart.’ August stepped closer. She kept the pressure steady against my hand. ‘All those times your father treated you mean, Our Lady was the voice in you that said, “No, I will not bow down to this. I am Lily Melissa Owens, I will not bow down.” Whether you could hear this voice or not, she was in there saying it.’ I took my other hand and placed it on top of hers, and she moved her free hand on top of it, so we had this black-and-white stack of hands resting upon my chest. ‘When you’re unsure of yourself,’ she said, ‘when you start pulling back into doubt and small living, she’s the one inside saying, “Get up from there and live like the glorious girl you are.” She’s the power inside you, you understand?’ Her hands stayed where they were but released their pressure. ‘And whatever it is that keeps widening your heart, that’s Mary, too, not only the power inside you but the love. And when you get down to it, Lily, that’s the only purpose grand enough for a human life. Not just to love – but to persist in love.

Learn to love yourself first. You can’t expect people to love you when the value you place on yourself is half inch tall. To be loved or not is a power you have in your hand. It is when you give that power to people who don’t matter that you begin to suffer.

Place a beehive on my grave and let the honey soak through. When I’m dead and gone, that’s what I want from you. The streets of heaven are gold and sunny, but I’ll stick with my plot and a pot of honey. Place a beehive on my grave and let the honey soak through.

You are not accidental. Existence needs you. Without you something will be missing in existence and nobody can replace it. That’s what gives you dignity, that the whole existence will miss you. The stars and sun and moon. The trees and birds and earth – everything in the universe will feel a small place is vacant which cannot be filled by anybody except you. ― OSHO, OSHO ZEN TAROT

Brutality is boring. Over and over, hell night after hell night, the same old dumb, tedious, bestial routine: making men crawl; making men groan, hanging men from the bars; shoving men; slapping men; freezing men in the showers; running men into walls; displaying shackled fathers to their sons and sons to their fathers. And if it turned out that you'd been given the wrong man, when you were done making his life unforgettably small and nasty, you allowed him to be your janitor and pick up the other prisoners' trash. There was always another prisoner, and another. Faceless men under hoods: you stripped them of their clothes, you stripped them of their pride. There wasn't much more you could take away from them, but people are inventive: one night some soldiers took a razor to one of Saddam's former general in Tier 1A and shaved off his eyebrows. He was an old man. "He looked like a grandfather and seemed like a nice guy," Sabrina Harman said, and she had tried to console him, telling him he looked younger and slipping him a few cigarettes. Then she had to make him stand at attention facing a boom box blasting the rapper Eminem, singing about raping his mother, or committing arson, or sneering at suicides, something like that⁠—these were some of the best-selling songs in American history. "Eminem is pretty much torture all in himself, and if one person's getting tortured, everybody is, because that music's horrible," Harman said. The general maintained his bearing against the onslaught of noise. "He looked so sad," Harman said. "I felt so bad for the guy." In fact, she said, "Out of everything I saw, that's the worst." This seems implausible, or at least illogical, until you think about it. The MI block was a place where a dead guy was just a dead guy. And a guy hanging from a window frame or a guy forced to drag his nakedness over a wet concrete floor⁠—well, how could you relate to that, except maybe to take a picture? But a man who kept his chin up while you blasted him with rape anthems, and old man shorn of his eyebrows whose very presence made you think of his grandkids--you could let that get to you, especially if you had to share in his punishment: "Slut, you think I won't choke no whore / til the vocal cords don't work in her throat no more!..." or whatever the song was.

Who are you? I am the whispering that allows you to know your Self. I am the ache to be free. I am the unforgettable and unwavering realization that you are already found. I am what you seek when you do not even know you are seeking. I am you at your most clear; you at your most comforted. I am what makes life worth living. I see the obstacles you face, and I know how to triumph against them. I am the yearning to open and relax. To come into sanity you must release everything. See with fresh eyes. Bow down. Speak directly to the mystery. Stop interpreting. Know through the Knowing and feel through the body. Fling yourself into your most vulnerable places. Welcome the heart-yearning to be unprotected and fierce in the nakedness of your deep Presence. Stop comparing. Stop complaining. Be.

SOCIAL/GENERAL ICEBREAKERS 1. What do you think of the movie/restaurant/party? 2. Tell me about the best vacation you’ve ever taken. 3. What’s your favorite thing to do on a rainy day? 4. If you could replay any moment in your life, what would it be? 5. What one thing would you really like to own? Why? 6. Tell me about one of your favorite relatives. 7. What was it like in the town where you grew up? 8. What would you like to come back as in your next life? 9. Tell me about your kids. 10. What do you think is the perfect age? Why? 11. What is a typical day like for you? 12. Of all the places you’ve lived, tell me about the one you like the best. 13. What’s your favorite holiday? What do you enjoy about it? 14. What are some of your family traditions that you particularly enjoy? 15. Tell me about the first car you ever bought. 16. How has the Internet affected your life? 17. Who were your idols as a kid? Have they changed? 18. Describe a memorable teacher you had. 19. Tell me about a movie/book you’ve seen or read more than once. 20. What’s your favorite restaurant? Why? 21. Tell me why you were named ______. What is the origin of your last name? 22. Tell me about a place you’ve visited that you hope never to return to. get over your mom’s good intentions. 23. What’s the best surprise you’ve ever received? 24. What’s the neatest surprise you’ve ever planned and pulled off for someone else? 25. Skiing here is always challenging. What are some of your favorite places to ski? 26. Who would star as you in a movie about your life? Why that person? 27. Who is the most famous person you’ve met? 28. Tell me about some of your New Year’s resolutions. 29. What’s the most antiestablishment thing you’ve ever done? 30. Describe a costume that you wore to a party. 31. Tell me about a political position you’d like to hold. 32. What song reminds you of an incident in your life? 33. What’s the most memorable meal you’ve eaten? 34. What’s the most unforgettable coincidence you’ve experienced or heard about? 35. How are you able to tell if that melon is ripe? 36. What motion picture star would you like to interview? Why? 37. Tell me about your family. 38. What aroma brings forth a special memory? 39. Describe the scariest person you ever met. 40. What’s your favorite thing to do alone? 41. Tell me about a childhood friend who used to get you in trouble. 42. Tell me about a time when you had too much to eat or drink. 43. Describe your first away-from-home living quarters or experience. 44. Tell me about a time that you lost a job. 45. Share a memory of one of your grandparents. 46. Describe an embarrassing moment you’ve had. 47. Tell me something most people would never guess about you. 48. What would you do if you won a million dollars? 49. Describe your ideal weather and why. 50. How did you learn to ski/hang drywall/play piano?

Well,’ August said, going right on with her pasting, ‘you know, she’s really just the figurehead off an old ship, but the people needed comfort and rescue, so when they looked at it, they saw Mary, and so the spirit of Mary took it over. Really, her spirit is everywhere, Lily, just everywhere. Inside rocks and trees and even people, but sometimes it will get concentrated in certain places and just beam out at you in a special way.

[Human lives] are composed like music. Guided by his sense of beauty, an individual tranforms a fortuitous occurrence into a motif, which then assumes a permanent place in the composition of the individual's life. Anna [Karenina] could have chosen another way to take her life. But the motif of death and the railway station, unforgettably bound to the birt of love, enticed her in her hour of despair with its dark beauty. ...It is right to chide man for being blind to such coincidences in his daily life. For he thereby deprives his life of a dimension of beauty".

Some people will tell you that Toronto, in the summer, is the nothing more than a cesspool of pollution, garbage, and the smells of a hundred ethnicities competing for top spot in a race won historically by curry, garlic, and the occasional cauldron of boiled cabbage. Take a walk down College Street West, Gerrard Street East, or the Danforth, and you'll see; then, they add—these people, complaining—that the stench is so pervasive, so incorrigible, nor merely for lack of wind, but for the ninety-nine percent humidity, which, after a rainstorm, adds an eradicable bottom-note of sweaty Birkenstocks and the organic tang of decaying plant life. This much is true; there is, however, more to the story. Take a walk down the same streets and you'll find racks of the most stunning saris—red with navy brocade, silver, canary, vermillion and chocolate; marts with lahsun and adrak, pyaz and pudina; windows of gelato, zeppole, tiramisu; dusty smoke shops with patio-bistros; you'll find dove-white statuary of Olympian goddesses, mobs in blue jerseys, primed for the World Cup—and more, still, the compulsory banter of couples who even after forty years can turn foul words into the bawdiest, more unforgettable laughter (and those are just the details). Beyond them is the container, the big canvas brushed with parks and valleys and the interminable shore; a backdrop of ferries and islands, gulls and clouds—sparkles of a million wave-tips as the sun decides which colours to leave on its journey to new days. No, Toronto, in the summer, is the most paradisiacal place in the world.

I remember a vivid talk by the Japanese Zen philosopher Dr. Daisetz T. Suzuki that opened with an unforgettable contrast of the Occidental and Oriental understandings of the God-man-nature mystery. Commenting first on the Biblical view of the state of man following the Fall in Eden, “Man,” he observed, “is against God, Nature is against God, and Man and Nature are against each other. God’s own likeness (Man), God’s own creation (Nature) and God himself - all three are at war.” Then, expounding the Oriental view, “Nature,” he said, “is the bosom whence we come and whither we go.” “Nature produces Man out of itself; Man cannot be outside of Nature.” “I am in Nature and Nature is in me.” The Godhead as highest Being is to be comprehended, he continued, as prior to creation, “in whom there was yet neither Man nor Nature.” “As soon as a name is given, the Godhead ceases to be Godhead. Man and Nature spring up and we get caught in the maze of abstract conceptual vocabulary.” We in the West have named our God; or rather, we have had the Godhead named for us in a book from a time and place that are not our own. And we have been taught to have faith not only in the absolute existence of this metaphysical fiction, but also in its relevance to the shaping of our lives. In the great East, on the other hand, the accent is on experience: on one’s own experience, furthermore, not a faith in someone else’s. And the various disciplines taught are of ways to the attainment of unmistakable experiences - ever deeper, ever greater - of one’s own identity with whatever one knows as “divine”: identity, and beyond that, then, transcendence.

To not be cut off, however, we need to be moving in a rhythm that is syncopated with that of the oaks and willows, heartbeats and touch. We must recall the original cadence of the soul. One of my most memorable teachings about slowing down came from my mentor, Clarke Berry, a Jungian analyst with whom I apprenticed, following licensure. I was young, and I knew I was in need of a mentor, someone who could teach me the art of sitting with others in therapy. The Jung Institute in San Francisco referred me to Clarke along with other analysts, but when I met him, I knew I was in the right place. Our first meeting, over thirty years ago, was unforgettable. When we sat down, Clarke reached to his left, placed his hand on a large rock lying on a table, and said, “This is my clock. I operate at geologic speed. And if you are going to work with the soul, you need to learn this rhythm, because this is how the soul moves.” Then he pointed to a small clock also sitting there and added, “It hates this.” What an amazing thing to tell this young therapist. It is the single most important thing I ever learned about therapy, about working with the soul. I share this story with every person I work with; I use it as a means of calming the urgency to change and helping patients return to a rhythm that enables them to listen once again to their own soul.

Although many reviews have compared my novels to those written by Garrison Keillor, Phil Gulley, or Jan Karon, I personally try to stay clear of comparing and contrasting one author or series to another. What I can say, though, is that Lumby — its valleys, streets, townsfolk and stories — is an escape...a gentle, quirky sanctuary from life's harsher realities. At the heart of the town is the decency, levity and honorableness of good people who are carving out the best lives they know how. It is a town that is reminiscent of yesteryear, a community as it was intended to be—caring, forthright, ethical and authentic. And within that wonderful place, humor is a mainstay and an antidote (as I think it is in life) where the moral compass always points due north unless someone has dropped it in the PortiPotty at the county fair. With the help of the two well-intentioned inn keepers, the monks from Saint Cross Abbey (who make a tremendous rum sauce), a trustworthy newspaper publisher and a cast of unforgettable characters along Main Street, Lumby has a place in all of our hearts. From Christian Book Previews: "The Lumby Lines goes straight to the heart. The simplicity, humor, and downright friendliness make reading it a pleasure. Readers will close the book with a sigh of contentment and a desire to visit Lumby again. The author has faithfully carved out a slice of small-town living and topped it off with a large helping of humor. This reviewer can't wait for her next visit to Lumby!

The devil took hold of her tongue. There was no other explanation for it. "Behoove," she said. The angle of his mouth leveled out, and his voice turned exceedingly, dangerously soft. "Yes. Behoove." She opened her mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. "Don't say it." Gray-green eyes narrowed, daring her to cross the line. --- A sense of peace and contentment filled him. He loved music, and he loved to dance. Teaching Tess to waltz was going to be a pleasure. A half an hour later, he had revised his opinion drastically, as she stepped on his foot again. Instantly, they both stopped moving and glared at each other. "Young lady, you are not an elephant," he told her. "Kindly refrain from imitating one." --- "We can work it all out over time. Agreed?" She might not know where they were going, but it was definitely a step to the right direction. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "Agreed." His expression turned serious, and he eased away from the wall. Without his body weight pinning her into place, she had to force her own shaky limbs to support her. Sliding his fingers lightly down her arm, he took her hand. "Come make love with me," he said. After all of that - after taking the time to create an understanding that was filled with respect and that gave her a sense of safety - how like him to make everything so classic and direct, and simple. She tightened her hand in his. "Yes." --- "What's she like?" Gavin's tone was elaborately non-chalant. Defiant. Devious. Delicious. He didn't say any of those adjectives aloud. Instead, as his silence grew too long and Gavin lifted up his head to look at him curiously, he finally settled on "Unforgettable.

Before dinner on the last night, while the guys were on the deck drinking whiskey and talking about Elon Musk, Liz and I went on a walk and she told me about a dream she’d been fixating on, a dream about what happens after mothers die. “We are all in this place. All the mothers who had to leave early.” (I would repeat her unforgettable phrasing—had to leave early—to Edward as we went to sleep that night.) “It’s huge, big as an airplane hangar, and there are all these seats, rows and rows, set up on a glass floor, so all the moms can look down and watch their kids live out their futures.” How dominant the ache to know what becomes of our children. “There’s one rule: you can watch as much and as long as you want, but you can only intervene once.” I nodded, tears forming. “So I sat down. And I watched. I watched them out back by the pool, swimming with Andy, napping on a towel. I watched them on the jungle gym, walking Lambchop, reading their Lemony Snicket books. I watched Margo taking a wrong turn or forgetting her homework. I watched Dru ignoring his coach. I watched Gwennie logging her feelings in a journal. And every time I went to intervene, to warn one of the kids about something or just pick them up to hold them, a more experienced mother leaned across and stopped me. Not now. He’ll figure it out. She’ll come around. And it went on and on like that and in the end,” she said, smiling with wet eyes, “I never needed to use my interventions.” Her dream was that she had, in her too-short lifetime, endowed her children with everything they’d require to negotiate the successive obstacle courses of adolescence, young adulthood, and grown-up life. “I mean, they had heartaches and regret and fights and broken bones,” she said, stopping to rest. “They made tons of mistakes, but they didn’t need me. I never had to say anything or stop anything. I never said one word.” She put her arm through mine and we started moving again, back toward the house, touching from our shoulders to our elbows, crunching the gravel with our steps, the mingled voices of our children coming from the door we left open.

Representative Broussard had dispatched a field agent on a fact-finding mission. The man, a native of southern Africa, found the Louisiana swamps “wildly dismal and forbidding.” (The “silence strike[s] one with an almost unforgettable horror,” he wrote in his report, titled “Why and How to Place Hippopotamus in the Louisiana Lowlands.”) Still, the place was perfect for hippos. His conclusion: “The hippopotamus would find no difficulty living in Louisiana.

Verona has long haunted the English imagination.

Like so many ancient cities, Perugia has long outgrown her early walls, and much of the new town is remorselessly ugly.

Unforgettable" is an adjective that one use with regard to certain people, places, or incidents on the way to "forgotten.

The saga teems with life and action, with memorable and complex characters from the heroic Gunnar of Hlidarendi, a warrior without equal who dislikes killing, to the villainous, insinuating Mord Valgardsson, who turns out to be less dastardly than we first expect. Unforgettable events include Skarphedin’s head-splitting axe blow as he glides past his opponent on an icy river bank, or Hildigunn’s provoking of her uncle to seek blood revenge by placing on his shoulders the blood-clotted cloak in which her husband was slain... Just as in the Norse poem Völuspá (‘The Seeress’s Prophecy’) the gods met their doom (no mere twilight) at the hands of brute giants and monsters, after which a new and peaceful earth arose, so do the terrible events of Njal’s Saga lead finally and at great cost to a dignified resolution bearing the promise of a better time. (Robert Cook(

I could see Chandler Street back in Philadelphia, where I lived immediately after my divorce. “Your own road has led through some interesting places. That it (Philadelphia) saw the flowing of democracy and freedom (I could see the Declaration of Independence); it was where it started in your land, and it spread throughout the globe. Now it is darkened, it is endangered.” Speak. You Are Permitted. The permission to question. The openness. An unprecedented opportunity to plumb the depths of some of life’s most persistent and challenging questions. A frank conversation… with God… about free will, the need for Christianity, idolatry, Jewish suffering, the Holocaust, the devil, the messiah and the age of the world. It would prove an unforgettable night. October 16, 1987 … Later that night, Rosalyn felt once more that she had to write. Soon she began to speak. "Do you believe what has been written? Do you believe this is that which is penned by you is that which is truth?.... There shall be resistance. There shall be family versus family. There will be much dissension.

3 Reasons Why You Should Visit Galapagos Islands Are you have been planning to spend their vacation in most of the beautiful place in the world. Then the Galapagos Islands is one of the most beautiful places in the world. The famous archipelago in the Pacific Ocean is a demand and desired destination for travelers all around the world. The Galapagos isn’t probably the easiest and cheapest accessible place in the world but still attracts huge numbers of visitors, although there is a limit on how many people can arrive in the Galapagos. These are not budget-friendly travel destination Islands, but there are some ways how to arrange your week in paradise from cruising the living onboard and archipelago to making the day trip from one of the islands. You have most already heard or read all superlatives Galapagos Island can offer many visitors. But if you hesitate if the time and money will be worth it, we’ve put a list of three reasons why we should visit the Galapagos Islands. After reading these reasons, we believe that there won’t be any hesitation. The Galapagos Legend should be on every traveler. Pristine beaches You come to Galapagos Island to see fantastic wildlife but firstly mention the beaches. The stretches of fine white sand are on every island, and although you won’t have that much time to relax and lay down here just because of that there is so much to do, so we are looking at you sea lions only walking on those beaches from one to another end is a great unforgettable experience. Never expect deck chairs, bars, or umbrellas beaches on the Galapagos have nothing familiar with those touristy and crowded places form travel catalogs. Wildlife When we think and talk about the Galapagos Islands, we have a suspicion that the wildlife would be something marvelous and unique. What we never know was that these superlatives would get a new dimension on the Galapagos. All the wildlife animal species from iguanas, birds, tortoises, sea lions crabs to fish are incredible, and nothing can make you on their natural behavior that is dissimilar from the animal's behavior we know from our countries. The Galapagos animals never feel fear human at all, so you can get close to them and take images of a lifetime. Island hikes There are many designed ways on islands of Galapagos that will help you to walk through a unique landscape and will also help you to understand the evaluation process better, evaluation of not only the islands but also of the flora and fauna which live here in unbelievable symbiosis. The hikes are short, so visitors are allowed to walk on the island on their own so that you want a certified guide to show you around. Hikes were one of the best activities we did on the Galapagos as it combined the exploration of almost barren volcanic islands and watching wildlife. Galapagos Legend help you plan the trip you have dreamed about. You can choose onshore activities that cater to your interests, from a wildlife safari to a side trip to the fabulous annual Carnival in Rio, Brazil. As you stay on shore before and after your trip, you have the option of staying at a delightful boutique-style hotel or in a 5-star hotel setting.

It's either you create your own path or you go with the flow. Whatever makes you satisfied is definitely the best for you. No matter how others see it; as long as you don't harm anyone; you should not pay attention to the opinions you didn't ask for. Surround yourself with the people you love; they're the ones who make life worth living for. Go to your comfortable warm places. Get a joyful moment. Make unforgettable memories. Save the dates. Don't let your life be as miserable as your enemies are wishing it to be. Be your own-happy-self under any circumstances!

I can’t breathe. I’m 97% sure that my nerve endings are literally on fire, and true to his promise, walking today, or the days in the near future, will be a challenge. God bless him. “God, Sarah.” If I could move right now, I’d open my eyes and look down at him, but I can’t. He’s still inside me, his body also still quivering. I didn’t think it was possible, but this round might be better than any of the previous six. Six. Rounds. Of sex. In one twelve-hour period. I collapse on his chest, bury my face in his neck, try to regain use of my extremities, and purr when he wraps his arms around my back and hugs me close. His arms make me want to bite him. In the best sexual way possible. I don’t know what he does to keep them so…awesome, but dear sweet Moses, am I thankful. “I’ll make you breakfast,” he murmurs against my neck, sending a fresh round of goose bumps over my skin. “Okay. I’ll get off of you in about a month.” He chuckles and slaps my ass, and then before I know it, I’m flat on my back and he’s leaning over me, smiling down at me with those amazing green eyes of his. “How can you move?” “Quick recovery,” he says and kisses my nose. “You stay here and collect yourself and I’ll go cook.” “Cook what?” I ask. “There’s nothing in your fridge.” “The bagel place delivers.” He winks, places a smacking kiss on my lips, then jumps up and saunters out of the bedroom. Naked. Holy shit. I cover my face with my hands and can’t help but smile. What a night! Adam didn’t wait until this morning to have his way with me again. No, that happened sometime around 2:00 a.m. It seems that man can’t keep his hands off of me, and that doesn’t hurt my feelings in the least. I was so right. One night with Adam Spencer was unforgettable and a giant boost to my ego. I giggle and sit up, sighing when my muscles complain. Good lord, muscles I didn’t even know existed are protesting after the night of exhausting sex I just had. I had sex. A lot. With the hottest man ever. I giggle once more and stand, groaning now at the uncomfortable pull of my inner thigh muscles, and walk into his bathroom to clean up. The shower is quick, and before I know it, I’m in his kitchen, wearing last night’s clothes, kind of excited about the walk of shame I’ll do when he drops me off. “I like that smile,” Adam says as he walks into the kitchen holding a brown bag that was just delivered. “You put it there,” I reply with a wink. “You put on shorts.” He raises a brow. “I can take them back off.” “No.” I shake my head and laugh as Adam opens the bag of food. He smirks and passes me a bagel, already toasted with cream cheese. “How do you feel?” “Sore.” I lick cream cheese off my thumb and grin at the sexy man taking a bite of his breakfast. “Well sexed.” “Mission accomplished then.” He reaches over the island and drags his thumb down my cheek. He kisses my forehead, then pulls away. “Thank you.” “For?” “Dinner. Breakfast.” The most amazing sex of my entire life. “You’re welcome.

The Christmas Key The key hangs untouched For 364 days For the day after Christmas Is the day I put it away It’s getting on to the Yule Tide The one that comes every year Where smiling eyes are all around And hearts that count are here Each year is more of a struggle Still we reach the journeys end To find that we’re not just family We are also the best of friends The holiday gift is not a package No price tag to cut and hide It’s a celebration of a birthday Shared with loved ones by your side We remember the unforgettable Give thanks to all that’s new Once again, savor the innocence Of a child’s dream come true One more memory to add to the last Of love, warmth, and joy One more feeling of what was That still touches this little boy When the day is over The memories are locked away And the key put back in its place

A Maldives holiday gives you the opportunity to walk in the pristine white sands, throw them among your feet and keep your mind on the bustle of the waves of the ocean at an ideal level of relaxation. Is it possible that there is more fun than we do in the Maldives? The charming atmosphere and relaxing aura are combined as a perfect match to the heavenly connection which you share with the love of life which speaks volumes of honeymoon tour packages on the Maldives. The honeymoon packages from India to the Maldives are made to perfectly suit your needs and offer you an excellent vacation. In comparison to the experience that awaits you, the prices of the Maldives online Honeymoon packages are fully justified. It is known that traveling brings people together as we grow on each tour. With our Maldives honeymoon packages, a special tour with your better half can be extra special. The shades of the darkness and dawn of this land are striking like a painting; you can visit the Maldives for an unforgettable holiday with Benchmark holiday online packages. This is a panoramic place to capture new beginnings in perfect strokes of green and blue with all-new aquatic and turquoise shades. The grace of romance easily sweeps into the heart while hunting for the best packages of Maldives honeymoon. To plan your best holiday online, choose a Maldives tour package, at affordable prices too. We give you the ability to recall our legacy and to enjoy it, to explore and celebrate life in the best online packs in the Maldives.

Latinx artists both in front of and behind the cameras are committed to creating entertaining, compelling stories, unforgettable characters, and indelible images of humanity that will bring a greater understanding of the society and the world we live in. They have a long history in the evolving art of motion pictures since its inception and are taking a more prominent place in the present and future of Hollywood and the world’s cinematic landscape.

I Can Only Imagine A special Eulogy to my adorable Mother I can only imagine How you may have felt That very day you left Not knowing how your children would fend for themselves Thank God He made provision for them I can only imagine The questions you had A few hours before you departed From wondering when you would take your last breath To trying to understand how your loved ones would react I can only imagine That unforgettable day When we witnessed your transition to Heaven I still wonder how you went But I remember your peaceful smile Even as you steadily waved goodbye I can only imagine The place where you are now Filled with nothing but joy As you forget the sorrow of this world While you admire the beauty of Paradise I can only imagine!

I Can Only Imagine A special Eulogy to my adorable Mother I can only imagine How you may have felt That very day you left Not knowing how your children would fend for themselves Thank God He made provision for them I can only imagine The questions you had A few hours before you departed From wondering when you would take your last breath To trying to understand how your loved ones would react I can only imagine That unforgettable day When we witnessed your transition to Heaven I still wonder how you went But I remember your peaceful smile Even as you steadily waved goodbye I can only imagine The place where you are now Filled with nothing but joy As you forget the sorrow of this world While you admire the beauty of Paradise I can only imagine!

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Your beau, dear. We can hear you upstairs, you know, arguing all the time. I know you are from a place where people are very, well, what’s the word, hot-blooded, you know. But that’s no excuse to take it out on your man. It simply doesn’t do for a lady to behave that way.

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He was the missing piece, the part of me that I had felt was lost, to the point where I'd lashed out at everyone and everything out of sheer frustration. I never would've imagine that Ollie would be the one to give me the answers I'd sought. That he was the truth that had set me free. I'd never felt more complete or more loved than I did in Ollie's arms. And now that I knew my place, I never planned to leave.

A wedding is more than a celebration; it's an embodiment of love, tradition, and a promise of forever. It's a day filled with emotions, rituals, and unforgettable moments that become treasured memories. As one of India's major cities, Hyderabad is a place where traditions, culture, and modernity coexist harmoniously. The city is known for its grand weddings and, as such, it has seen the emergence of a vibrant community of talented wedding photographers. wedding photographers in hyderabad india is an art form that goes beyond just capturing images. It's about narrating a story, capturing the emotions, and documenting the traditions that define a couple's special day. Wedding photographers are not merely technicians with cameras; they are artists who have an innate ability to see and capture the beauty in every moment. In Hyderabad, where rich traditions blend seamlessly with modernity, wedding photographers play a crucial role in capturing the essence of cultural rituals and ceremonies. They understand the significance of every moment, from the joyous celebrations to the quiet, intimate exchanges.

Do you think we’ll ever really belong anywhere?” “I suppose not,” said Papa. “Not the way people belong who have lived in one place all their lives. But we’ll belong a little in lots of places, and I think that may be just as good.

Though I may not have appreciated Edna’s bluntness, her words underscored the reality of living in a place like Arctic Alaska. One hundred and fifty years ago, if I had been a member of a small wandering band of Gwich’in hunters, I would have been left behind to die. Modern times are gentler, but the fact remains: I’d be nothing but deadweight on a hunt, a liability to all, and a danger to myself.

Baseball was Expos' play-by-play man Dave Van Horne's livelihood, and he had to press on. He got back to work when play resumed, though he did stage a kind of silent protest. Van Horne carefully wrote the names of the entire 25-man roster on a little index card, then placed that card in his wallet, where it would sit through the harsh winter that followed the '94 disaster, into 1995 and onward. Ask him about it today and Van Horne will pull out that card, read through the names, and flash a sad smile. Twenty years after baseball sabotaged the best team in Expos history, he remembers what might have been. That card-that incredible roll call-will sit in his pocket for as long as he lives, a reminder of a dream destroyed.

【咨询Q微:202 661 44 33】办毕业证（科廷大大学毕业证一模一样）证书购买CUT毕业证澳洲假学历，办理澳洲学位毕业证科廷大学毕业证成绩单文凭证书，在线在澳办澳洲文凭科廷大学毕业证2021年本科学位证书。 LSKJSKSSJSSSBSVSBNVSBSCSVCSBSVSHJSSKJLSSHJKSBeginning in his hometown of New Orleans, Clint Smith leads the reader on an unforgettable tour of monuments and landmarks--those that are honest about the past and those that are not--that offer an intergenerational story of how slavery has been central in shaping our nation's collective history, and ourselves. It is the story of the Monticello Plantation in Virginia, the estate where Thomas Jefferson wrote letters espousing the urgent need for liberty while enslaving more than four hundred people. It is the story of the Whitney Plantation, one of the only former plantations devoted to preserving the experience of the enslaved people whose lives and work sustained it. It is the story of Angola, a former plantation-turned-maximum-security prison in Louisiana that is filled with Black men who work across the 18,000-acre land for virtually no pay. And it is the story of Blandford Cemetery, the final resting place of tens of thousands of Confederate soldiers.

One thing you can say about my mother is that she never wasted time. One brown girl out of the picture, a new one swiftly takes her place. And she even gave her the book. My book. The copy of Wuthering Heights that was a welcome present to my new life from my new family.

I know I’m brown, but isn’t San Francisco supposed to be a fucking melting pot of cultures? Isn’t that what it says on every damn blog post about the place? San Francisco—the poster child for cultural

It's pretty distressing, don't you think> The thought of dying and leaving nothing behind. The world not changing one iota from your having been in it. Makes you wonder what the point of even living in the first place is, you know. Like, why are we even here? Why bother putting in all the effort to live if only to suffer and die and be forgotten? That's what makes the thought of being ordinary so terrifying to me. That's why I'm determined to be someone. Someone who'll be remembered. Who'll actually leave an unforgettable mark on this world. Someone extraordinary.

The world is not a physical place anymore. It’s about technology.

To be able to enjoy the pleasure of a descend from a mountaintop, something should take you to the top of the mountain in the first place. Your work – the roll of the rock takes you to the mountaintop.

The world is a noisy place. Everybody wants to say something. We are forever surrounded by people’s opinions on how to make things work. Everyone wants to give us a piece of themselves through speeches and actions. Everything around us wants our attention. It never stops. Sometimes we get lost in the maze of all the noise we are surrounded by. We forget one thing: Silence! You can only learn when you are silent.

Like the rainbow in clouds and the rain drop in mud You irked like a torn of love in my heart. My naught desire is burning, as my beautiful hope is unfulfilled. Is it to raise the madness of love in me or to kill me? You are the girl I wished for, the damsel that left me, you are a merciless demon and the craze in my heart. You are a fish eyed beauty and a surprising sage, you are my moonlight in the dark... Come to me my beloved!! How do I live without you? Come to me my beloved! Can’t you be seen to my eyes? I am living in your thoughts this way... I considered you my heartbeat, how do I live without you? Come to me my beloved! My dear girl, oh beauty bird.. my heart slipped down magically and started roaming around you chanting your name in your quest, dancing just like you to reach me. How many days or years it might be, I would be waiting to see you even if it takes a hundred years. Let there be any dangers or whirlpools ahead, oh my love.. I will be beside you in everything. Shall we exist as one together? This is a never-ending celebration. Oh my gosh, my gorgeous babe.. You are a sweet unforgettable thought. Glimpses of your twittering laugh and the gleam of your eyes can be seen tempting deep in my heart. Wherever I am and whatever I do. I keep seeing the love of billions of my dreams. Shall I place you deep inside my carved heard and workshop you with the flowers of my blood? Shall we pull the time backwards and write our story again? How do I live without you? Come to me my beloved!

...all the beautiful things that have entered into the heart, mind, eye, and ear. God is saying 'These are nothing compared to what lies ahead.' I still don't know what this means. But I've found that God never places any real emphasis on the present - except as a preparation for the future. We only have a limited sense of reality. This doesn't mean I'm preoccupied with heaven and the hereafter. It just helps me put things into perspective.