Vail Quotes

I didn't care who kissed you first as long as I kissed you last.

I dont care who kissed you first as long as I kiss you last.

We are men who find chess fascinating. Did you expect our lives to be secretly interesting?

You planning top kill me with a Wiffle bat?" [Carson asked] "Yeah." "Why?" he asked. The bat was shaking in my tight grip. "Because I don't have my Minnie Mouse pillow.

A message had been sent to EmmaVaile at an account I didn't recognize. It was from BennettStern at the same network. Four words: "I'm grateful for you.

He told me how special you are," he said, flashing Shay an unfriendly smile. "Because of your great-great-times-a-hundred-grandmother Eira who got us into this mess when she became a demon's mistress." "Thanks for reminding me," Shay said. "So now you know why you and Calla were supposed to cut my throat instead of a cake at your wedding. Too bad that didn't happen." Ren Stiffened. "I'm not sorry you made it out of Vail alive. As for the rest of it ... we'll see how that turns out, won't we?

There is no greater torture than being forced to watch as your love, your reason for living, breathing, and existing, sinks into oblivion. Your heart stops no matter how you try to get to her, she just gets farther and farther away." ~Fane from 'Beyond the Vail' "Attention shoppers, just a brief announcement, crazy ass werewolf on isle three. Those with abundance of testosterone, don't touch their lady merchandise and you might walk out of here intact." ~Jen from 'Fate and Fury'. "In the event of some sort of gathering, if one of the bossy, overbearing, possessive fur balls has not flipped his switch and attacked some poor young pup in some misguided attempt to protect his woman's virtue, then the night is not over.

The mysterious is always attractive. People will always follow a vail.

You can't own your victories if you won't admit your failures.

I shoved him off the snowmobile. He landed on his back in the snow. "Love is a brat, you think? No, love id fine. You are the brat, you spoiled, rotten brat!

Crap. I was hopin’ all things ugly had been raptured, but you’re still muckin’ up the planet.” “We must share the same faith, honey. ’Cause beauty checked out when you showed up.

Real difficulties can be overcome; it is only the imaginary ones that are unconquerable.

Nev tossed his pen down. “Fine. Here goes: Ren and Cals lives may be torrid for the young ones in Vail are quite horrid Bine and Cos aren’t too frail Dax and Fey never pale while Ansel and Bryn might get sordid Bryn spit Diet Coke all over the table. Mason and Ansel clapped. I was too dumbfounded to react. This is qhat quiet Nev does in his spare time? “‘Bine’?” Sabine frowned while Cosette mopped up the soda that flowed to their end of the table. “Since when am I ‘Bine’? And we never call Cosette ‘Cos.’” “It’s about cadence,” Nev said. “Sorry. I said it wasn’t very good.” “Why aren’t you and Mason in it?” Ansel asked. “Oh, he has another one about us.” Mason wiggled his eyebrows.

I smashed his hand as hard as I could with the Wiffle bat. "Ow!" he screamed. Carson was rubbing his red palm, inspecting it for damage. "That hurt," he shrieked. "You really hurt me." "Right back at you," I said. "Good-bye Carson." He frowned, massaging his hand, the big baby. "I just wanted to end this nicely." "Yeah?" I cocked the bat up to hit him again. "Well, this time you don't get what you want.

Vail: "There are worse things than being shot at." Bannon: "Like...?" Vail: "Living a life where you're never shot at.

Extremes mean borders beyond which life ends, and a passion for extremism, in art and in politics, is a vailed longing for death.

I, Larry Vail, do hereby confess To murdering Merry in her little dress. To strangling and raping and making a mess. To all of these charges the answer is yes.

Please, we're in high school. Hook up and move on.

Love makes us stupid, sometimes.

I don't care who kissed you first, as long as I kissed you last - George (If we kiss)

I have standards. Well, okay, they're love standards, but I have them.

Even animals know better than to foul their own nest

You know what you are, Mr. Vail?" "In a hurry?" he answered. "A coward.

Well, you should have a chat with your boyfriend, clarify your desires. Hate to break the news, but, uh, he’s cheatin’ on you. Tell him I said my dog kisses better than him and he hits like a girl.

I don't think anyone's past is ever truly gone. You carry every experience, good and bad, within you.

Sometimes sluttiness is a sign of intense longing.

Come on Josie." He leaned closer and whispered in my ear, "I really want you there." "Yeah?" I asked, slamming my locker shut. "And do you always get what you want?" "Yes," he said.

Once in school, going down to lunch from our third-floor classroom, Valentino Vail had leaned over the banister without warning and loosed a cataract of orange vomit. The stairway was the usual open stack and Valentino’s breakfast just dropped forever, three stories down, touching a good number of lives as it rocketed past and hitting the basement tile with a sound zookeepers must hear sometimes, around the elephants.

Oh, really? Do you wake up heaving from bloody dreams that promise destruction like some crazy street guy forecasting the Apocalypse? Did you slam a door in your dad’s face hours before he died? Does everyone, cops included, think you’re a pestering loon ’cause ‘accident’ doesn’t sit right with you, nor the many other freakouts, like the car that keeps showing up on your street, with someone sitting in it, doing like, nothing? No? Oh no? Didn’t think so. Life sucks for everyone. Jump or deal with it.

I am a pacifist, danm it! And now I'm bleeding. What is wrong with you, you sick sicko?

therefore she took a vail, and covered herself.

Do not forever with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust. Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die, Passing though nature to eternity.

35. And the children of Israel saw the face of Moses, that the skin of Moses' face shone: and Moses put the vail upon his face again, until he went in to speak with him.

I have carved a life out of doing what needs to be done, because you can vail to the heavens, but in the end, when you're through, you will still be ankle deep in the same situation.

THE earliest theory of salvation is the Egyptian theory. The Egyptian Mystery System had as its most important object, the deification of man, and taught that the soul of man if liberated from its bodily fetters, could enable him to become godlike and see the Gods in this life and attain the beatific vision and hold communion with the Immortals (Ancient Mysteries, C. H. Vail, P. 25).

Do you think we're being robbed?" I whispered. He nodded gravely, then crawled over to my closet and opened it. "Did you want to borrow something more formal to wear for the robbery? I'm not sure I have anything in your size." "Shh," he whispered. "Don't you at least have a tennis racket or anything?" "You think they came here looking for a doubles partner?" He turned quickly and gave me a look, then whipped a Wiffle bat out of the mess. "Wow," I said. "You jock-type people really are single-minded, aren't you? Uh-oh, we're being robbed. Let's play ball!" "It's for a weapon," Carson whispered. "You're gonna hit them with a Wiffle bat?" "What else you got?" "Um...A pillow" "Exactly" ... "Stay behind me," he whispered. "Can I just say that I never knew this about me before, but weirdly enough this whole protective he-man thing actually turns me on." "Josie." "What," I asked. "Shut Up." I grabbed my pillow, just in case, so to speak, and tiptoed behind him around the mussed-up bed. "Maybe we should just hide in the closet." He turned around, rolled his eyes and kissed me. "Shh," he repeated.

Sorry," I said... "Sorry for what?" He glanced over at me. "For whatever I did wrong," I said. "Did you do something?" I shrugged, "Why are you not talking to me?" "I'm just driving." He moved his hand from the gearshift onto my leg. "Do you like snowmobiling?" "I love it," I said. He shot me a look. "Have you ever gone snowmobiling before?" "No," I said. He smiled. God, I hate his smile, I love it so much.

It's just one of those things, like some people don't sink when they go in the pool, some know how to throw a ball so it goes toward the person holding the mitt. I have no idea how people do those things; I'm good at schoolwork. That works out well because it frees up my time for my hobbies, like lying on the couch eating M&M's.

Some of the choices teenagers make are morally and practically wrong. Some of my characters do things I hope my child won't. There are occasionally words my characters choose that I wouldn't utter in my mother's presence. But when I was sixteen, or twelve, hanging out with my friends? That was different. For a story to feel real, I have to respect what a character would really do or say.

Bush and Vail understood that the doomsday cycle is not inevitable, and that the best chance for sustainable, renewable creativity and growth comes from bringing an organization to the top-right quadrant: separate phases connected by a balanced, dynamic equilibrium.

Pushing Carson back out of the door, I grabbed my jacket off the hook and shoved my feet into the great old clogs that my poor podiatrist father wants outlawed. "Don't you want to change or something?" Mom called after me. "She'll never change," Carson answered, and followed me down the steps. I settled myself into the passenger seat and buckled up as he back out of the driveway. "Your arches are falling?" "Turns out I am deeply flawed," I admitted.

In the name of speed, Morse and Vail had realized that they could save strokes by reserving the shorter sequences of dots and dashes for the most common letters. But which letters would be used most often? Little was known about the alphabet’s statistics. In search of data on the letters’ relative frequencies, Vail was inspired to visit the local newspaper office in Morristown, New Jersey, and look over the type cases. He found a stock of twelve thousand E’s, nine thousand T’s, and only two hundred Z’s. He and Morse rearranged the alphabet accordingly. They had originally used dash-dash-dot to represent T, the second most common letter; now they promoted T to a single dash, thus saving telegraph operators uncountable billions of key taps in the world to come. Long afterward, information theorists calculated that they had come within 15 percent of an optimal arrangement for telegraphing English text.

The Conclusion NOW Reader, I have told my Dream to thee; See if thou can’st interpret it to me, Or to thyself, or Neighbor; but take heed Of mis-interpreting; for that, instead Of doing good, will but thyself abuse: 5 By mis-interpreting, evil ensues. Take heed also, that thou be not extreme, In playing with the out-side of my Dream: Nor let my figure or similitude Put thee into a laughter or a feud; 10 Leave this for Boys and Fools; but as for thee, Do thou the substance of my matter see. Put by the Curtains, look within my Vail; Turn up my Metaphors, and do not fail There, if thou seekest them, such things to find 15 As will be helpful to an honest mind. What of my dross thou findest there, be bold To throw away, but yet preserve the Gold; What if my Gold be wrapped up in Ore? None throws away the Apple for the Core. 20 But if thou shalt cast away all as vain, I know not but ’twill make me Dream again

Oh it just gives me the heebie-jeebies

It was an epoch of her life, an hour never to be forgotten, this first coming into relation with a really noble library.

What others say about you is irrelevant. You define who you are.

No biggie,” I said. “We all get scared sometimes

was

Just for taste bites of sample bagels have - fun fact - between zero and "screw you" calories

that whole oh I care so much bull. Just to make everybody like her.

They say knowledge is power. And it is! Once you better understand what you fear, you can face it head-on with confidence.

You don’t have to be friends with everybody, you just can’t be unkind to anybody.

Backstory is like a flavour you can’t quite pick, lurking in the layers of a curry. You know it’s there and it enhances the flavour, but it’s intangible and fleeting. Use it sparingly!

We’re turning onto Frontage Road headed into Vail Village when she tells me she met someone. “What’s that?” I ask, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. She nods and pulls out her phone. “On Facebook. I don’t know why I’m bothering with dating sites when there are guys like this available.” She waves the phone. Fuck that. I’m available. “I don’t think you’re ready yet,” I snap. “We’re still practicing your dating skills, remember?” “Oh.” She frowns. “Are we exclusively practicing? I didn’t know. I thought this guy would be good practice.” I make a mental note to hack her and alter all the incoming messages from men. Why the hell didn’t I do this the day I met her? When she told me about men sending her photos of their dicks?

Bruises on the soul hurt even more than bruises on the leg and take longer to heal. Maybe the trick is to try to avoid smashing into stuff so much. And then to be kind to ourselves as we slowly heal.

In the name of speed, Morse and Vail had realized that they could save strokes by reserving the shorter sequences of dots and dashes for the most common letters. But which letters would be used most often? Little was known about the alphabet’s statistics. In search of data on the letters’ relative frequencies, Vail was inspired to visit the local newspaper office in Morristown, New Jersey, and look over the type cases.

Treat backstory like a pungent spice. I say this to encourage you to picture a jalapeno pepper that can set your mouth on fire, every time you even think about adding backstory into your book. What you need is subtlety.

In 1907 the American Telephone and Telegraph Company faced a crisis. The patents of its founder, Alexander Graham Bell, had expired, and it seemed in danger of losing its near-monopoly on phone services. Its board summoned back a retired president, Theodore Vail, who decided to reinvigorate the company by committing to a bold goal: building a system that could connect a call between New York and San Francisco. The challenge required combining feats of engineering with leaps of pure science. Making use of vacuum tubes and other new technologies, AT&T built repeaters and amplifying devices that accomplished the task in January 1915. On the historic first transcontinental call, in addition to Vail and President Woodrow Wilson, was Bell himself, who echoed his famous words from thirty-nine years earlier, “Mr. Watson, come here, I want to see you.” This time his former assistant Thomas Watson, who was in San Francisco, replied, “It would take me a week.”1

The beauty of religious mania is that it has the power to explain everything. Once God (or Satan) is accepted as the first cause of everything which happens in the mortal world, nothing is left to chance … or change. Once such incantatory phrases as “we see now through a glass darkly” and “mysterious are the ways He chooses His wonders to perform” are mastered, logic can be happily tossed out the window. Religious mania is one of the few infallible ways of responding to the world’s vagaries, because it totally eliminates pure accident. To the true religious maniac, it’s all on purpose. It was quite likely for this reason that the Trashcan Man talked to a crow for nearly twenty minutes on the road west of Vail, convinced it was either an emissary of the dark man … or the dark man himself. The

Godlike erect, with native Honour clad In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all, And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine The image of thir glorious Maker shon, Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac’t; Whence true autoritie in men; though both Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd; For contemplation hee and valour formd, For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace, Hee for God only, shee for God in him: His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar’d Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: Shee as a vail down to the slender waste Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav’d As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli’d Subjection, but requir’d with gentle sway, And

Except that here he was, alive and well.  “There will be time to talk about that,” he said. “Later.”  “Say it.”  Instead of saying anything, he closed the remaining distance. Heather slid to the side, into the room, practically falling over a low table in her rush to shamble away.  Meyer calmly entered and closed the door behind him.  “Get away from me.”  “They got there in time, Heather.”  “There was no time. You were gone. Meyer was gone.” “People can be revived. You know they can.”  “Not you.”  He spread his arms slightly, giving her an almost humorous expression. And yet here I am. “A shuttle picked me up. They’re aliens, Heather. When we were in Vail, they picked me up in a beam of light. They read the population’s minds. They crossed time and space. Why is it so hard to believe they can fix a bullet wound?”  “Show me.” She nodded at his chest. “There’s no scar, if that’s what you’re asking.” He gave a tight-lipped, shrugging sort of smile. “Alien technology.”  “I don’t believe it.”  “I don’t know why. Come on, Heather.” His voice had slightly changed. Now he wasn’t quite

Majesty, A frozen swamp. Icicles on branches and uprooted trees. That was our crystal palace, once upon a time. I was your king and you were my queen. I promised you I’d always try to give you your desires. I meant that. And since you wanted Derek, I tried to get him for you. I tried to get Derek to see how beautiful, sweet and amazing you are, in spite of myself, in spite of my rending heart. He never saw you the way I did, and you never saw me at all. I thought maybe if I found love with someone else, I’d be rid of my feelings for you, but that empty relationship only made me long for you more. I’ve offered you the most support and devotion a person can give an unwanting heart, but all I get in return are your mocking advances, which blatantly scream and reiterate the fact that you’ll never love me. It’s been so excruciating to be around you lately. You’re always teasing me, and it kills me. That’s why I’ve been so irritable and angry. It’s inconceivable to me how you could think I’d EVER hurt you, when all I’ve been living for is to try and make you happy. Well, I’m done. Your doubt has caused me more pain than anything I’ve ever known. I always thought we’d be life-long friends, but this fairytale has no happy ending. The crystal has shattered. I can’t be your king anymore. Then again, I never really was. I’ve always been the lowly jester. And everyone knows a fool can never be with a queen. Goodbye, Alec

Stop, skipping. Idiot! You look crazy.

Yeah, way to jab me on my birthday, lady.

Saddle up, chica!

Emily has gotten some leg mobility back since her last surgery but climbing the steps and lifting her leg over was going to be tricky. They helped her gingerly up a three-step mounting block and then hoisted her up onto the horse.

Sassy’s her own horse,” I told Emily.

Emily, not as comfy or thrilled around the new equines now that they were out and right in front of us, just sat there staring at the scraggly one. She didn’t say anything, but she was probably grossed out. Her eyes, big as cookies, volleyed from horse to horse, and I could see her mentally comparing them.

Most people's car last longer than their marriage. WHY? For instance in Germany, the government made it as a law that before you are qualified to drive a car, you will go to a driving school, learn the theory and practical before getting a license to drive. Same is applicable to your car, it must go to service and maintenance every two years if it is a new one to check if the car is still road worthy. If your car is above five years old then it must go to service every year. So this makes the car last longer. For you to get a driving licence in germany it takes months but for you to take a marriage certificate in Germany it doesn't take two hours. Once you go on the vail, they give you licence which means that they are more concerned about your car on their street than they are about your life in their communities. A lot of people doesn't go to any driving lessons on marriages. So they end up knowing how to drive a car but not learning how to live with someone.

PD. DE "LA OTRA CONSULTA". Revisé la parte de la correspondencia externa que va dirigida a mi pasamontañas. Hay de todo: caricaturas, albures, mentadas (de menta y de las otras), amenazas de muerte y retos a duelo. Estos son los resultados preliminares: -El 97.98% de los consultados piensa que soy muy mamón. El 2% dice que no soy mamón, sino bastante payaso. El 0.02% no contestó (está contando un chiste de pepito). -El 87.56% piensa que voy a terminar vendiéndome con el gobierno. El 12% pregunta que cuál es el precio. El 0.44% revisa la cartera en busca de cambio. -El 74.38% dice que yo no escribo las cartas y comunicados, que con esta cara (?) dudan que pueda hilvanar un par de ideas coherentes. El 25% señala que sí escribo yo, pero me dictan. El 0.62% mejor se puso a leer El Chahuistle. -El 69.69% dice lo que dice. El resto no lo dice, pero lo piensa. Varios no contestaron, pero entornaron los ojos y jadearon ostensiblemente. -El 53.45% dice que nunca he estado en la montaña, que despacho desde un escritorio público donde se mecanografían tesis y cartas como la que, el otro día, me dictó Rutilio y que dice: "Ufemia: Claro necesito que me digas si querétaro las manzanas para que poninas dijo popochas y, si naranjas podridas y ni maiz palomas, me boinas con los cuadernos". El 46% dice que sí estuve en la montaña pero en la de Vail, Colorado, iuesei. El 0.55% está haciendo fila en la taquilla de la montaña rusa. -El 49.99% dice que nunca he agarrado un arma y que soy "soldado de escritorio". El 50% dice que la única arma que he agarrado es la que diosito me dio y quién sabe, dicen. El 0.01% se mantuvo a prudente distancia (¡órale! ¡no salpiquen!). -El 33.71% dice que "perdí el piso" con la crítica al PRD y el veto a "importantes diarios" (?). El 66% dice que nunca he tenido piso alguno, que seguro me desalojaron. El 0.29% no trajo su copia de la boleta predial. -El 26.62% dice que mi pasamontañas ya está muy guango y que enseña TODO. El 73% dice que me suba el cierre del pantalón. El 0.38% fue por unos binoculares. -El 13.64% dice que soy egocentrista. El 86% dice que soy un presumido. El 0.36% cambió de periódico y ahora lee Nexos. -El 99.99999% dice que ya está hasta la madre de encuestas y consultas. El 0.00001% fue al baño, ahorita regresa (ojo: se llevó la hoja de la encuesta, no se vayan a manchar).

Delayed gratification hints that something terrible is going to happen, and then delays the resolution. It’s that interval between the promise of something awful and it actually happening, where suspense resides.

By late January 2014, Tesla had completed the construction of a cross-country Supercharger corridor that would allow Model S drivers to get from Los Angeles to New York without having to spend a penny on energy. The electric highway took a northern route through Colorado, Wyoming, South Dakota, Minnesota, and Illinois, before approaching New York from Delaware. The path it cut was similar to a trip taken by Musk and his brother, Kimbal, in a beat-up 1970s BMW 320i in 1994. Within days of the route’s completion, Tesla staged a cross-country rally to show that the Model S could easily handle long-distance driving, even in the dead of winter. Two hot-pepper-red Model S’s, driven by members of the Supercharging team, left Tesla’s Los Angeles–based design studio just after midnight on Thursday, January 30. Tesla planned to finish the trip at New York’s City Hall on the night of February 1, the day before Super Bowl XLVIII, which would take place at MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford, New Jersey, just across the state line. Along the way, the cars would drive through some of the snowiest and most frigid places in the country, in one of the coldest weeks of the year. The trip took a little longer than expected. The rally encountered a wild snowstorm in the Rocky Mountains that temporarily closed the road over Vail Pass and then provided an icy entrance to Wyoming. Somewhere in South Dakota, one of the rally’s diesel support vans broke down, forcing its occupants to catch a flight from Sioux Falls to rejoin the rest of the crew in Chicago. And in Ohio, the cars powered through torrential rains as the fatigued crew pressed on for the final stretch. It was 7:30 A.M. on Sunday, February 2, when the Teslas rolled up to New York’s City Hall on a bright, mild morning. The 3,427-mile journey had taken 76 hours and 5 minutes—just over three days. The cars had spent a total of 15 hours and 57 seconds charging along the way,

Property destruction is not violence--especially when it's directed against property that has been illegally constructed on public lands.

wait for the burst of mental expansion that always followed a ceremony … and yeah, that sucked. But what the hell—ayahuasca wasn’t the kind of thing you got addicted to. And he could certainly afford it. Not seeing Heather felt like the bigger hit. He hated to admit how much he missed her. Of course he loved Piper, but if there were such things as soul mates, Heather was his. Too bad she was so goddamned annoying. “I can also meet you in Vail,

Bush and Vail managed the transfer rather than the technology. They cared for the touch and balance between loonshots and franchises. Land, on the other hand, was the “principal cheerleader and spokesperson” for the Polavision project.

Bush changed national research the same way Vail changed corporate research. Both recognized that the big ideas—the breakthroughs that change the course of science, business, and history—fail many times before they succeed. Sometimes they survive through the force of exceptional skill and personality. Sometimes they survive through sheer chance. In other words, the breakthroughs that change our world are born from the marriage of genius and serendipity.

Both Bush and Vail saw their jobs as managing the touch and the balance between loonshots and franchises—between scientists exploring the bizarre and soldiers assembling munitions; between the blue-sky research of Bell Labs and the daily grind of telephone operations. Rather than dive deep into one or the other, they focused on the transfer between the two.

This time, she was able to rip the door open and came face first with a naked torso.

The paramedic knelt on a knee and started to pack up his case.

But admittedly, justice was in short supply and most often seemed to land on those who had the money for it.

he started to hum along with the stereo playing in the bedroom. Beethoven’s Ode to Joy—possibly his favorite piece of music. The majesty of the chorus never ceased to thrill him.

I died when I was little more than two years old, on June 13, 1919, there in the Signal Corps lofts at Camp Vail, New Jersey. One week after Congress passed the Nineteenth Amendment, which would eventually recognize the right of women to vote. Pigeons do not vote, but as a female being I felt a degree of investment in the fortunes of other females.

Governments exist so that the few can exploit the many.

Look it, Jack. While I appreciate the sentiment, we’re already pressed for time. You know our fundraiser’s just around the corner and getting her ready for sale’ll be a huge time zapper for us. And in the end, she’ll just be uprooted again.” “Let’s talk about this later. For now, let’s just get her settled in, fed and watered.” Mrs. M huffed slowly and rubbed her temple with the heel of her hand, as if already feeling the exhaustion of the job just by looking at the mare. “Okay, you girls, walk ’em both to the back barn and put ’em in the two empty stalls. Water them and throw them some hay. We’ll look at ’em later. When you’re done, can you finish cleaning the stalls in the main barn?” “Yes, ma’am.” Without even really thinking it through, a sense of urgency forced me to say, “Um, Mrs. M? If you wouldn’t mind, can I take her on as a project horse? You said she’d be a huge time zapper for you, time that you don’t have. I can take care of her, clean her up, as well as train her to ride and follow commands. Problem solved. Pretty please?” She sighed with her lips scrunched, hopefully seriously considering it. Even though I knew that was gonna be a monstrous job, I was so quick to volunteer because I honestly felt like I was the only one who truly got this horse and saw her potential. Everyone else just saw a headache and a big mess. She was counting on me, and I couldn’t let her down. “Maybe she’ll end up being an excellent addition to the program. You think?” “Oh, I really don’t think we can use her here, sweetie,” she mewed like I was so dumb and silly for even suggesting it.

Um, so you're in love with Frankie, right?" "Yes." "How do you know?" She thought about it for a minute, then said, "I'm happier when I'm with him. I'm stronger, more daring, more open. You know how when you're ten, you are so much who you are? When I was ten I was like the senior of being a kid. I was into sports, of course, but I was also into politics, I read the paper, I organized a recycling drive, I did cartwheels just because I felt happy. Didn't you?" "Well," I said, "I have never done a cartwheel. Maybe I've never been that happy." "No, you know what I mean. I was strong." ... "When I'm not with him," she went on, the words rushing out of her, "I think about him all the time- what he would think, or say, how he would calm me down and help me roll with it, whatever. And when I'm with him, it's just- easy. This might sound weird, but I'm more like I was when I was ten. Minus the cartwheels, plus a little, you know, different kind of physical stuff. I guess I know I'm in love with Frankie because I'm more like myself when I'm with him.

just

He’s by the fence over there,” Stephen pointed to a legless man a few feet away by the gate to the inn’s yard. Harry had undone himself from his board and was sitting with his leg stumps splayed out, whittling on a small piece of wood. Already its end resembled the figure of a man tugging a noose about his neck. Harry was only a few years older than Stephen, hardly thirty, but with a ratty beard that hung down to his chest, wild hair and crazy blue eyes, he seemed far older. He had been a free farmer once, but then a cart had rolled over his legs. Gangrene had set in and a barber surgeon amputated both legs above the knee. Most men would have died, but Harry had held on. He was a beggar now.

mane,

RIDGE

You cannot be serious.” “I am.” “You need another favor?” It’s two weeks after the Vail trip and a week since I saw him last—when I did laundry at his house. And other stuff. “Don’t you still owe me two favors?” “So I’ll owe you three, which is a big deal. You could cash in three favors for one really big favor.” Yes. Yes, my mind does instantly detour into the gutter. “I don’t know,” I mumble. “Chloe. I’m not even making this up. I really need your help.” “What is it? I’m not getting on an airplane.” “Meet me at the book store down the street. At 18th and Walnut.” “The book store?” I ask, my voice dripping sarcasm. “Really, Boyd? Are you being serious right now or is this one of your weird come-on lines? ‘Oh, Chloe, I’ll do your laundry,’” I purr into the phone in a sexy voice. “‘Chloe, I have an emergency at the book store. Hurry,’” I add in the same tone. “Please, Boyd,” I finish, my voice back to snarky. He laughs, his voice a throaty chuckle over the phone, and I can picture his smile as he does. I wonder if he shaved today or if he’s sporting the day-old scruff look. “No, this is legitimate. Hurry up.” Then he hangs up on me before I can object again. What a weirdo. But I put my shoes on all the same.

The basis of freedom as well are [sic] the restraints commonly accepted by the members of the group in which the rules of morals pre­vail. The demand for ‘liberation’ from these restraints is an attack on all liberty possible among human beings.

Suspense doesn’t always have to be about physical danger. Making the reader worry is a universal concept that can be applied to any story.

Books were expensive and only the wealthy had them. Stephen, who had a secret liking for books, idly opened it. It was written in Latin. He recognized it as the confessions of St. Augustine.

He had to look death in the face as he had never had to before and to pronounce the manner and the reason for it, so that there would be an official record and the death could be properly assessed, because no man, woman, or child was supposed to pass into the next world without giving fine to the king for the misfortune.

The stairway was dark and he bumped into a woman whom he neither saw nor heard coming. “Watch it, love,” she said, “or I’ll knock you down.”               “You nearly did,” Stephen said with a forced laugh.               “Oh, sorry, sir,” she said, realizing from his accent he was gentry. “I didn’t see you.

Nevertheless, despite the claim of duress, Thumper’s confession exposed him to a counter-plea for false swearing, which was almost as bad as homicide.

The sonorous Latin words, which sounded like singing even when it was not meant to be singing, rolled through the air with the inexorability that only Latin possessed.

Honor meant keeping your word and dealing fairly and honestly with people. It was the glue that held society together; without it there would be nothing but unchecked greed and chaos.

Quite so,” Margaret said with bitterness. “One is never safe from men with unchecked power. You can be sure they will abuse it.

i'd rather loose a ram than win a bulldog