Vega Star Quotes

The food was so good that with each passing course, our conversation devolved further into fragmented celebrations of its deliciousness: 'I want this dragon carrot risotto to become a person so I can take it to Las Vegas and marry it.

You’ve found the final card. The stars have aligned, my duty is done. When all hope fails, Vega Princesses, find courage in the light.

The Dog-star and Aldebaran, pointing to the restless Pleiades, were half-way up the Southern sky, and between them hung Orion, which gorgeous constellation never burnt more vividly than now, as it soared forth above the rim of the landscape. Castor and Pollux with their quiet shine were almost on the meridian: the barren and gloomy Square of Pegasus was creeping round to the north-west; far away through the plantation Vega sparkled like a lamp suspended amid the leafless trees, and Cassiopeia's chair stood daintily poised on the uppermost boughs. "One o'clock," said Gabriel.

...far away through the plantation Vega sparkled like a lamp suspended amid the leafless trees...

What’s the main allure of folks in Extreme Spiritual Addiction? Astral flash, of course. Picture a wannabe rock star, all decked out in garish colors and sequins. Why does that over-the-top kind of dress-up work so well in Vegas? Because audiences in Vegas aren’t seeking Spiritual Enlightenment, nor even a refined experience. Quite the opposite, right? Fact is, multitudes anywhere prefer entertainment that’s larger-than-life. Sleazy sex sells, and so does every other kind of garishness, including astral flash. To some spiritual seekers – and others -- astral flash can seem incredibly wonderful. Only some folks of course – you need not be one of them.

Just because your electronics are better than ours, you aren't necessarily superior in any way. Look, imagine that you humans are a man in LA with a brand-new Trujillo and we are a nuhp in New York with a beat-up old Ford. The two fellows start driving toward St. Louis. Now, the guy in the Trujillo is doing 120 on the interstates, and the guy in the Ford is putting along at 55; but the human in the Trujillo stops in Vegas and puts all of his gas money down the hole of a blackjack table, and the determined little nuhp cruises along for days until at last he reaches his goal. It's all a matter of superior intellect and the will to succeed. Your people talk a lot about going to the stars, but you just keep putting your money into other projects, like war and popular music and international athletic events and resurrecting the fashions of previous decades. If you wanted to go into space, you would have.

The food was so good that with each passing course, our conversation devolved further into fragmented celebrations of its deliciousness: “I want this dragon carrot risotto to become a person so I can take it to Las Vegas and marry it.” “Sweet-pea sorbet, you are so unexpectedly magnificent.

I see the Divine in the mountains, the rivers, the clouds and the stars. I see the Divine in the highways, and skyscrapers, in farmland and playgrounds. But where is the Divine in the barren desert, in burned-down forests, and disaster-stricken towns? The Divine is in the oasis, and the people there who give water and rest to desert travelers. The Divine is in the firefighters’ tools, and the flowers that bloom from the ash. The Divine is in relief trucks, bringing food and water and comfort. The Divine rests in all things, but is no more awake than when we summon strength to do what is right.

Because I tried all those voice options, of course. Haven’t you?” She looked at him expectantly, as if scrolling through all the language and voice options in the GPS was a total must. “Frankly? It didn’t occur to me. I stuck with the first one.” She rolled her eyes. “There’s one in Klingon. I used to have it on when I drove my geekier friends to the yearly Star Trek conventions in Vegas. They’d translate for me.” He wasn’t sure which part of her statement was more disturbing to him: the friends that spoke Klingon, or the yearly visits to Star Trek conventions. Or that she had geekier friends. Finally he opted for one. “You have friends that speak Klingon?” She shook her head. “No. Not fluently, no. It helped a lot that from LA to Vegas is for the most part a straight line. You really don’t want to get lost in the Mojave Desert with a handful of bickering Klingons and Vulcans who can achieve global domination with a laptop but can’t figure out how to change a tire on the car.

What were you looking at?" She pointed to a bright star. "Polaris." He shook his head, and pointed to another part of the sky. "That's Polaris. You were looking at Vega." She chuckled. "Ah. No wonder I was finding it unimpressive." He leaned back and stretched his long legs out. "It's the fifth brightest star in the sky." She laughed. "You forget I am one of five sisters. In my world, fifth brightest is last." She looked up. "With apologies to the star in question, of course." "And are you often last?" She shrugged. "Sometimes. It is not a pleasant ranking." "I assure you, Pippa. You are rarely last.

One thing seems certain. Our galaxy is now in the brief springtime of its life—a springtime made glorious by such brilliant blue-white stars as Vega and Sirius, and, on a more humble scale, our own Sun. Not until all these have flamed through their incandescent youth, in a few fleeting billions of years, will the real history of the universe begin. It will be a history illuminated only by the reds and infrareds of dully glowing stars that would be almost invisible to our eyes; yet the sombre hues of that all-but-eternal universe may be full of colour and beauty to whatever strange beings have adapted to it. They will know that before them lie, not the millions of years in which we measure eras of geology, nor the billions of years which span the past lives of the stars, but years to be counted literally in the trillions. They will have time enough, in those endless aeons, to attempt all things, and to gather all knowledge. They will be like gods, because no gods imagined by our minds have ever possessed the powers they will command. But for all that, they may envy us, basking in the bright afterglow of creation; for we knew the universe when it was young.

Sometimes you have to recycle celebrities to make them interesting, and they can be even better the second time around. Case in point: the fabulous and talented Miss Joey Heatherton, star of stage, screen, Vegas and mattress commercials. Close your eyes and imagine what it would be like to wake up one day and be Joey Heatherton. On July 8, 1985, it must not have felt so hot. Joey, goddess, was detained in the U.S. passport office at Rockefeller Center for allegedly becoming abusive at not receiving special treatment in the passport line. Supposedly, she threw a tantrum, grabbed passport-office clerk, Mary Polik, tore her hair out and smashed her head against the Formica counter. Oh, well, nobody's perfect.

Outside, Vegas stretched out with thousands of glittering lights, as if the city waged war on the stars above.

I am Tory Vega, daughter of the Savage King, sister of Darcy Vega and rightful queen of this fucking land. I. do. Not. Beg.

I used to study the night, the stars, while camping next to my car. I learned names from an old star chart that I carried along with my highway maps. Mintaka, in Orion’s Belt, the bright left eye of the Bull. Sirius. Vega. Trying for a direction beyond anywhere possible, I looked at distant points of bright light. I wished that I could find out where I was going by navigating by the light that had traveled forever.

You don't want some tacky Vegas fly-by. You're serious. You're serious about friendships, about your work, your family. You're serious about Star Wars, and you active dislike of Jar Jar Binks---" "Well, God. Come on, anyone who---" "You're serious," she continued before he went on a Jar Jar rant, "about living your life on your terms, and being easygoing doesn't negate that one bit. You're serious about what kind of kryptonite is more lethal to Superman." "You have to go with the classic green. I told you, the gold can strip Kryptonians' powers permanently, but---"... ..."Mkae all the lists you want, Cilla. Love? It's green kryptonite. it powers out all the rest.

many of the stars bearing names beside them: Vega, Betelgeuse, Rigel, Algebar, Deneb, Acrab, Kitalpha. “Their names are all derived from Arabic,” Edmond said. “To this day, more than two-thirds of the stars in the sky have names from that language because they were discovered by astronomers in the Arab world.

Luz leaned her head against the window. The bus was already on the outskirts of Mexico City and the endless urban landscape had never seemed so gray and or so harsh. Most of the city was nothing like the old money enclave of Lomas Virreyes where the Vegas lived or Polanco where the city’s most expensive restaurants and clubs catered to the wealthy. The bus passed block after block of sooty concrete cut into houses and shops and shanties and parking garages and mercados and schools and more shanties where people lived surrounded by hulks of old cars and plastic things no one bothered to throw away. Sometimes there wasn’t concrete for homes, just sheets of corrugated metal and big pieces of cardboard that would last until the next rainy season. It was the detritus of millions upon millions of people who had nowhere to go and nothing to do and were angry about it. The Reforma newspaper had reported a few weeks ago that the city’s population was in excess of 28 million--more than 25 percent of the country’s entire population--and Luz believed it. All of those people were clawing at each other in a huge fishbowl suspended 7500 feet above sea level, where there was never enough oxygen and the air was thin and dirty. The city was hemmed in by mountains on all sides; mountains like Popocatépetl and Iztaccíhuatl that sometimes spewed smoke and ash and prevented the contaminatión from cars and factories and sewers from escaping. Luz privately thought of it as la sopa--a white soup that often blotted out the stars and prevented the night sky from getting dark. The bus slowed in traffic. As they crept along Luz saw a car stopped on the side of the road, pulled over by a transito traffic cop. As Luz watched, the driver handed the cop a peso bill from his wallet. The transito accepted it but kept talking, gesturing at the car. The motorist handed him another bill. La mordida--the bite--of the traffic cop, right under her nose. Los Hierros was crap.

Vegas is more than a city, it's the remedy to mankind's ... derailment. The city's economy is a blast furnace, in which can be forged the steel of a new rail line running straight to a new horizon. What is the NCR? A society of people desperate to experience comfort, ease, luxury. A society of customers. Give me 20 years and I'll reignite the high technology development sectors. 50 years and I'll have people in orbit. 100 years and my colony ships will be heading for the stars to search for planets unpolluted by the wrath and folly of a bygone generation. What I'm offering you is a ground floor opportunity in the most important enterprise on earth. What I'm offering is a future - for you, and for what remains of the human race.

It doesn’t matter if you mess up, choose the wrong road, flop in Vegas. What’s important is to throw yourself in head first, to “go for the gusto.” And if you blow it, you blow it. What we have to worry about now is success. Once you’re successful, it becomes embarrassing to make mistakes, and more difficult to grab onto the nearest straw and hold on. You can always be a star, so what’s the rush?

POEM – MY AMAZING TRAVELS [My composition in my book Travel Memoirs with Pictures] My very first trip I still cannot believe Was planned and executed with such great ease. My father, an Inspector of Schools, was such a strict man, He gave in to my wishes when I told him of the plan. I got my first long vacation while working as a banker One of my co-workers wanted a travelling partner. She visited my father and discussed the matter Arrangements were made without any flutter. We travelled to New York, Toronto, London, and Germany, In each of those places, there was somebody, To guide and protect us and to take us wonderful places, It was a dream come true at our young ages. We even visited Holland, which was across the Border. To drive across from Germany was quite in order. Memories of great times continue to linger, I thank God for an understanding father. That trip in 1968 was the beginning of much more, I visited many countries afterward I am still in awe. Barbados, Tobago, St. Maarten, and Buffalo, Cirencester in the United Kingdom, Miami, and Orlando. I was accompanied by my husband on many trips. Sisters, nieces, children, grandchildren, and friends, travelled with me a bit. Puerto Rico, Los Angeles, New York, and Hialeah, Curacao, Caracas, Margarita, Virginia, and Anguilla. We sailed aboard the Creole Queen On the Mississippi in New Orleans We traversed the Rockies in Colorado And walked the streets in Cozumel, Mexico. We were thrilled to visit the Vatican in Rome, The Trevi Fountain and the Colosseum. To explore the countryside in Florence, And to sail on a Gondola in Venice. My fridge is decorated with magnets Souvenirs of all my visits London, Madrid, Bahamas, Coco Cay, Barcelona. And the Leaning Tower of Pisa How can I forget the Spanish Steps in Rome? Stratford upon Avon, where Shakespeare was born. CN Tower in Toronto so very high I thought the elevator would take me to the sky. Then there was El Poble and Toledo Noted for Spanish Gold We travelled on the Euro star. The scenery was beautiful to behold! I must not omit Cartagena in Columbia, Anaheim, Las Vegas, and Catalina, Key West, Tampa, Fort Lauderdale, and Pembroke Pines, Places I love to lime. Of course, I would like to make special mention, Of two exciting cruises with Royal Caribbean. Majesty of the Seas and Liberty of the Seas Two ships which grace the Seas. Last but not least and best of all We visited Paris in the fall. Cologne, Dusseldorf, and Berlin Amazing places, which made my head, spin. Copyright@BrendaMohammed

If I’m ever tempted to let it get to my head, all I have to do is remember the first time I was recognized in public. I was with Jennie Garth, back in Season 3. She was way more famous than me (Derek Who?) and she was asked to the Eiffel Tower ceremony at the Paris Las Vegas hotel. They shut off half the strip and there were thousands of people outside the hotel lined up to see it. I was onstage supporting her, when I was suddenly hit with a wave of nausea. I knew instantly I had food poisoning from something I’d eaten earlier in the day. I knew if I didn’t get off the stage at that moment, I was going to throw up--and that would be the story on the evening news, not Jennie’s lighting! I jumped off the stage and just wanted to get back to my room where I could vomit in peace. As I was racing through the hotel lobby, a few people stopped me. “Aren’t you Derek Hough from Dancing with the Stars?” I was trying to be polite, but I just kept eyeing garbage cans in case I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Yeah, thanks,” I said. I signed a few autographs and tried to push my way to the elevators. “Wait! Derek! Can I get you to sign this?” More people started coming at me. I swear, I had to hold my breath so I wouldn’t hurl! When I finally got upstairs, I threw up thirty-two times. I was deathly ill. But somewhere, in that haze of hellish food poisoning, it hit me: This is pretty cool! People know who I am! But I’ve tried my hardest not to let that change me. I’m kind of a free spirit; what you see is what you get. Inside is still that crazy little boy who liked to bounce off his living room walls.

The fight spilled out into the press. Allen blasted the censors. “They are a bit of executive fungus that forms on a desk that has been exposed to conference. Their conferences are meetings of men who can do nothing but collectively agree that nothing can be done.” The thin-skinned network reacted again, cutting Allen off in the middle of a barb. Now other comics joined the fray. That week Red Skelton said on his show that he’d have to be careful not to ad-lib something that might wound the dignity of some NBC vice president. “Did you hear they cut Fred Allen off on Sunday?” That’s as far as he got—the network cut him off. But Skelton went right on talking, for the studio audience. “You know what NBC means, don’t you? Nothing but cuts. Nothing but confusion. Nobody certain.” When the network put him back on the air, Skelton said, “Well, we have now joined the parade of stars.” Bob Hope, on his program, was cut off the air for this joke: “Vegas is the only town in the world where you can get tanned and faded at the same time. Of course, Fred Allen can be faded anytime.” Allen told the press that NBC had a vice president who was in charge of “program ends.” When a show ran overtime, this individual wrote down the time he had saved by cutting it off: eventually he amassed enough time for a two-week vacation. Dennis Day took the last shot. “I’m listening to the radio,” he said to his girlfriend Mildred on his Wednesday night NBC sitcom. “I don’t hear anything,” said Mildred. “I know,” said Dennis: “Fred Allen’s on.” On that note, the network gave up the fight, announcing that its comedians were free to say whatever they wanted. It didn’t matter, said Radio Life: “They all were anyway.” Allen took a major ratings dive in 1948. Some

My lips parted to say something, but I forgot what it had been as my gaze fell on the girl who had just stepped into the room. My thumping pulse picked up speed for a wholly different reason as I drank her in. Long, black hair tumbled down her spine, her green eyes turned up towards the curving roof as she drank in the sight of the building she was in. Her lips were full and primed for tasting, but the set of her mouth said she was more used to frowning than smiling. She was without a doubt, the most stunning creature I'd ever laid my eyes upon and I couldn't help but stare at her as she moved deeper into the room with the other students. I felt a silencing bubble closing around me as one of the others tossed it up to allow us to speak freely, but I didn't look away from her. My gaze was riveted to her as I drank in every small movement of her body and each expression crossing her face. I didn't give a fuck about the Vegas showing up tonight anymore. I just wanted to know that girl a whole lot better than I did. "Holy fuck," Caleb murmured beside me and a deep growl rolled through my chest as I got the impression his gaze was fixed where mine was. "Mine," I snarled, the beast in me waking up and my eyes shifting into reptilian slits as if my Dragon was aching for a look at her too. Every muscle in my body tensed and I was filled with the insane urge to get out of my seat and stride straight up to that girl and claim her in front of every fucker here. I didn't even know her name. I didn't know what Order she was or how powerful she was or any of the things like that which should have mattered to me. But I didn't care. Because the only thing about her that mattered in that moment was that I was laying my claim. The Dragon in me demanded it. "Well shit, I didn't consider the fact that they might be hot," Seth cursed and I frowned a little at his words, trying to piece them together. "That'll make things more interesting," Max agreed. "I wanna know how good they taste," Caleb said with a barely stifled groan. I didn't want to listen to any of them, but their words kept pushing in on me while I continued to stare at my mystery girl. ... The second girl looked strikingly like her sister, though for some reason I felt like I'd know which was which in the dark. I wasn't sure what it was. But despite their equally attractive looks, my attention was pulled back towards the first girl like the stars wanted it to be on her. Nova kept prattling on to the twins while my brothers all hissed plans back and forth between each other. Our parents had been more than clear on this. The Vega twins needed to go. We were expected to make sure that happened. That was all that mattered. My dick's interest in getting to know one of them a whole lot more intimately had no bearing on anything. (Darius POV)

WHEN on the Magpies' Bridge I see The Hoar-frost King has cast His sparkling mantle, well I know The night is nearly past, Daylight approaches fast. The author of this verse was Governor of the Province of Koshu, and Viceroy of the more or less uncivilized northern and eastern parts of Japan; he died A.D. 785. There was a bridge or passageway in the Imperial Palace at Kyoto called the Magpies' Bridge, but there is also an allusion here to the old legend about the Weaver and Herdsman. It is said, that the Weaver (the star Vega) was a maiden, who dwelt on one side of the River of the Milky Way, and who was employed in making clothes for the Gods. But one day the Sun took pity upon her, and gave her in marriage to the Herdboy (the star Aquila), who lived on the other side of the river. But as the result of this was that the supply of clothes fell short, she was only permitted to visit her husband once a year, viz. on the seventh night of the seventh month; and on this night, it is said, the magpies in a dense flock form a bridge for her across the river. The hoar frost forms just before day breaks. The illustration shows the Herdboy crossing on the Bridge of Magpies to his bride. A Hundred Verses from Old Japan (The Hyakunin-isshu), tr. by William N. Porter, [1909],

Interestingly, because of the wobbling motion of the Earth's axis (called "precession"), the celestial pole will draw even closer to Polaris (closest in 2100 AD), but then as time wears on it will gradually draw away from it. In fact, in about 12,000 years our descendants will have Vega as the North Star.

Every time a supermodel divorces her rock-star husband, the Beta Male secretly rejoices (or more accurately, feels great waves of unjustified hope), and every time a beautiful movie star marries, the Beta Male experiences a sense of lost opportunity. The entire city of Las Vegas—plastic opulence, treasure for the taking, vulgar towers, and cocktail waitresses with improbable breasts—is built on the self-delusion of the Beta Male.

It occurs to me that all the divisions I’ve drawn up are false, that I’ve been foolish, that the forces that drive the desert, that create and created it—the screaming wind, extremes of heat and cold, the ardors of insects and rodents and birds, the slow growth of fungi, sudden floods, the swirl of stars—are the same ones that drive the city of Las Vegas: the voraciousness with which it builds and destroys, its endless thirst, its fear of the dark and of any brief stillness or vacuity, the hungers of its visitors and of the corporations that run the casinos, of the police who serve them and the people who sleep in the streets, the brightness and beauty of its lights. There was nothing to find here, and nothing lost. I never left the desert.

Calling to Measure It’s an obsession now, this matching And measuring, comparing, for instance, The coral-violet of the inner lip Of a queen conch to the last rim of dusk On the purple-flowering raspberry To the pure indigo of the bird-voiced Tree frog’s twittering tongue, then converting The result to an accepted standard Of rose-scarlet gradations. It’s difficult to say which is greater- The brevity of the elk’s frosty bellow Or the moments of fog sun-lifted Through fragrances of blue spruce Or the fading flavor in one spoonful Of warm chocolate rum. I mark out space by ten peas Strung on a string. The pane perimeter Of my window, for instance, is twenty-eight Lengths, twelve lengths over. Seventy pea-strings stretch from bed To door, Four go round my neck. My longing for you is more painful Than the six-times folding, doubling And doubling, of a coyote’s Most piercing cry, more inconsolable Than a whole night of moonlight blinded By thunderclouds, more constant Than black at the center of a cavern Stone below leagues of granite. I gauge my cold by the depth Of stillness in the pod heart of a frozen Wren. I time my breath by the faltering Leaves of aspen in wind. I count the circles Of my dizziness by the spreading rings Of rain-lassos on the pond, by the repeating Bell chimes of the corridor clock, By the one unending ring of the horizon. Where is the tablet, where the rule, where The steel weights, the balance, the book, Properly to make measure of a loss So grand and deep I can spread and stitch it To every visible star I name- Arcturus, Spica, Vega, Regulus- in this dark Surrounding dark surrounding dark?

Brian Wecht was born in New Jersey to an interfaith couple. His father ran an army-navy store and enjoyed going to Vegas to see Elvis and Sinatra. Brian loved school, especially math and science, but also loved jazz saxophone and piano. “A large part of my identity came from being a fat kid who was bullied through most of my childhood,” he said. “I remember just not having many friends.” Brian double majored in math and music and chose graduate school in jazz composition. But when his girlfriend moved to San Diego, he quit and enrolled in a theoretical physics program at UC San Diego. Six months later the relationship failed; six years later he earned a PhD. When he solved a longstanding open problem in string theory (“the exact superconformal R-symmetry of any 4d SCFT”), Brian became an international star and earned fellowships at MIT, Harvard, and the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, New Jersey. He secured an unimaginable job: a lifetime professorship in particle physics in London. He was set. Except. Brian never lost his interest in music. He met his wife while playing for an improv troupe. He started a comedic band with his friend Dan called Ninja Sex Party. “I was always afraid it was going to bite me in the ass during faculty interviews because I dressed up like a ninja and sang about dicks and boning.” By the time Brian got to London, the band’s videos were viral sensations. He cried on the phone with Dan: Should they try to turn their side gig into a living? Brian and his wife had a daughter by this point. The choice seemed absurd. “You can’t quit,” his physics adviser said. “You’re the only one of my students who got a job.” His wife was supportive but said she couldn’t decide for him. If I take the leap and it fails, he thought, I may be fucking up my entire future for this weird YouTube career. He also thought, If I don’t jump, I’ll look back when I’m seventy and say, “Fuck, I should have tried.” Finally, he decided: “I’d rather live with fear and failure than safety and regret.” Brian and his family moved to Los Angeles. When the band’s next album was released, Ninja Sex Party was featured on Conan, profiled in the Washington Post, and reached the top twenty-five on the Billboard charts. They went on a sold-out tour across the country, including the Brooklyn Bowl in Las Vegas.

The best of summer star-gazing is that it is warm enough to fling yourself upon your back and gaze up at the starts without craning the neck. In a short time the sense of intimacy with the stars is established, as it never can be when a man stands erect. You may even lose the sense of gazing up, and enjoy the exciting sensation of gazing *down* into the deep wells of space. Indeed, this is quite as correct as to say that we gaze upward at the stars. In reality there is no up or down in the universe. You are, in point of fact, a creature perpetually hung over the yawning abyss of Everywhere, suspended over it by our tiny terrestrial gravity which clamps you to the side of mother earth while you gaze down on Vega and Deneb and Arcturus and Altair whirling below you.

The blast tore from me like a supernova, leaving nothing but death and ash in its wake and I arched my spine as it spilled through me and into the world, carrying an endless echo of my pain with it to touch every corner of this star cursed earth and make sure that everyone residing on it felt it too. I fell forward as the last of it burned its way free of me, sobs cutting from my body in harsh waves which wouldn’t be denied as I fell over the body of the man I’d stolen back from the stars and pressed my ear against the heart which would never beat for me again, begging fate to change its mind while my tears were the only answer I was gifted. But as I broke over the loss of the only man I’d ever loved.

As I lay underneath the stars with my elbow bent beneath my head for a pillow, I finally felt safe.

Plan away, Miss Vega. You will soon realise that all plans are futile. The only ones that matter are written in the stars.

Seth Capella has written his fate in the stars. She’s coming for him like a monster in the night. And her name is Darcy Vega.

Our Princesses were lost for far too long. But now you’re home and the Kingdom of Solaria is rejoicing as our most powerful line is restored. The Fae world is built on a foundation of strength and power. And now we have our most powerful family back. There may be those who wish to keep you down or see you fall, but the true Queens are rising. The line of Vega is intact once more. And when you seize full control of your destiny, even the stars won’t be prepared for the might you possess.

The Vegas are in town tonight. That was it. One dumb sentence. Yet it was all I could damn well think about as my gaze slid past the groups of girls trying to garner our attention in search of the only one whose interest I was looking to grab. But she wasn't here. I was tempted to ask Lance where exactly he'd seen them, but I had no good reason to do that. Maybe I could convince the other Heirs to come searching for them with me, but I wasn't really looking to spend the night terrorising them. I just wanted to see her. By the stars, what was I even doing? I kept fantasising about her, dreaming about her and jerking off over imagined scenarios of me dominating her with every inch of my body and now I was hoping to see her on a night out like some desperate little fan boy hoping to try my luck. Who even was I right now? (Darius POV)

I slid a hand up her spine, moving it towards the back of her neck as I watched her mouth and prepared to claim it. Claim her. Claim everything that went with that choice, because it didn't even feel like a choice at all, more like an urgent need which demanded to be answered. “Drink!” Caleb demanded suddenly from beside us, snapping the tension that had been building and destroying the moment before I could claim her in any of the ways I ached to. Roxy turned away from me to accept the shot he was holding out for her and I took mine without once looking away from her face, tipping it down my throat and wishing something else was gracing my lips. There was a question hanging between me and her. A want which we both felt and ached to satisfy. But there was a whole chasm full of reasons for us to deny that need too. Not that I gave a shit. Because every fibre of my being was screaming for me to claim her and make her mine with an urgency that made my head spin. I swear I could practically hear the universe holding its breath like there was so much hanging on the choice we made now. But before either of us could make it, Caleb interrupted again. “Orion’s looking for you,” he said to me, pointing back over to the bar where I had to assume Lance was. “Something about an assignment you haven’t handed in. I told him to chill the hell out and enjoy his drink but he gave me that look, you know the look where you’re not sure if he’s trying to set you alight with the power of thought alone or if he’s just super constipated, so I said I’d tell you.” Roxy snorted a laugh, and as she looked away to search the crowd for Lance, the spell between us was broken. I scrubbed a hand down my face, wondering what the hell I'd been thinking. The girl might have been hot. Scorching fucking hot and endlessly intoxicating. And I might have wanted to fuck her more than I think I'd ever wanted to fuck any girl I'd ever met. But she was a star damned Vega. And that meant me and her were over before we could ever even consider beginning. “I guess I’d better see what he wants,” I said, knowing that the moment I stepped away from here would be the moment this opportunity left us. I cast a final look at Roxy, not really knowing what I expected to find there but she seemed to have forgotten me already as she moved away to place her empty shot glass down on a table. A growl rumbled through my chest and Caleb grinned widely, slapping me on the shoulder as I passed him and making me want to punch his fucking face all over again. No doubt Lance's appearance had made his fucking night. And it had definitely ruined mine.(Darius POV)

There’s nothing more damaging to an institution than an insecure leader,” Hargrave had told him. “You’re a rising star in this organization because you’re a strong supervisor and mentor. Many eyes are on you, and expectations are high.

On a late afternoon in late summer the air-pollution count is 0.37, and sunlight mists the headstone of a star who was born, then died young. Beyond the lines of markers a boulevard growls with traffic and a billboard on stilts announces Elvis Presley in Las Vegas. The distant Santa Monica mountains, blurred with heat and smoke, look as desolate as a photograph of the moon.

Once we’d wrapped season two, in April I headed to Vegas to shoot my first major movie. I was being paid a million dollars to star in Fools Rush In, with Salma Hayek. To this day, it’s probably my best movie.

He was leaving behind a Las Vegas transformed from a crime-based, mob-owned casinos and hotels, to the new large corporate organizations building massive billion-dollar complexes. These complexes included hotels, casinos, five-star restaurants and their celebrity chefs, shops, and vast entertainment venues that showcased the world’s biggest stars.

understands the intricacies of espionage...so well written that it becomes both educational and entertaining...Amazon 5 star review

The most effective way to destroy people is to deny and obliterate their own understanding of their history.

Burning Man was a mash-up of Star Wars and Apocalypse Now and Disneyland and the Las Vegas Strip.

She wrote to tell me she’d moved in with him, that he’d gotten her a job, a good-paying job…” He slid the manila folder across the table. On top of the stack inside was a ragged newspaper clipping, torn from the Vegas Sun, and the stark headline told the story. “Porn Star Drowns in Storm Tunnel.” I didn’t need to read the article.

In 1863, as Havana continued to grow, the need for expansion prompted the removal of the city walls. The Ten Years’ War ended with a cease fire from Spain. However, it was followed by the Cuban War of Independence, which lasted from 1895 until 1898 and prompted intervention by the United States. The American occupation of Cuba lasted until 1902. After Cuban Independence came into being, another period of expansion in Havana followed, leading to the construction of beautiful apartment buildings for the new middle class and mansions for the wealthy. During the 1920’s, Cuba developed the largest middle class per total population in all of Latin America, necessitating additional accommodations and amenities in the capital city. As ships and airplanes provided reliable transportation, visitors saw Havana as a refuge from the colder cities in the North. To accommodate the tourists, luxury hotels, including the Hotel Nacional and the Habana Riviera, were built. In the 1950’s gambling and prostitution became widespread and the city became the new playground of the Americas, bringing in more income than Las Vegas. Now that Cuba senses an end to the embargo and hopes to cultivate a new relationship with the United States, construction in Havana has taken on a new sense of urgency. Expecting that Havana will once again become a tourist destination, the French construction group “Bouygues” is busy building Havana's newest luxury hotel. This past June Starwood’s mid-market Four Points Havana, became the first U.S. hotel, owned by Marriott, to open in Cuba. The historic Manzana de Gómez building which was once Cuba's first European-style shopping arcade has now been transformed into the Swiss based Manzana Kempinski, Gran Hotel, La Habana. It has now become Cuba's first new 5-Star Hotel! Spanish resort hotels dot the beaches east of Havana and China is expected to build 108,000 new hotel rooms for the largest tourist facility in the Caribbean. On the other end of the spectrum is the 14 room Hotel Terral whch has a prime spot on the Malecón.

There should never be enough ‘going on’ that we forget about the needs of others. That, essentially, is the essence of goodness.

Yesterday on Boston Common I saw a young man on a skateboard collide with a child. The skateboarder was racing down the promenade and smashed into the child with full force. I saw this happen from a considerable distance. It happened without a sound. It happened in dead silence. The cry of the terrified child as she darted to avoid the skateboard and the scream of the child’s mother at the moment of impact were absorbed by the gray wool of the November day. The child’s body simply lifted up into the air and, in slow motion, as if in a dream, floated above the promenade, bounced twice like a rubber ball, and lay still. All of this happened in perfect silence. It was as if I were watching the tragedy through a telescope. It was as if the tragedy were happening on another planet. I have seen stars exploding in space, colossal, planet-shattering, distanced by light-years, framed in the cold glass of a telescope, utterly silent. It was like that. During the time the child was in the air, the spinning Earth carried her half a mile to the east. The motion of the Earth about the sun carried her back again forty miles westward. The drift of the solar system among the stars of the Milky Way bore her silently twenty miles toward the star Vega. The turning pinwheel of the Milky Way Galaxy carried her 300 miles in a great circle about the galactic center. After that huge flight through space she hit the ground and bounced like a rubber ball. She lifted up into the air and flew across the Galaxy and bounced on the pavement. It is a thin membrane that separates us from chaos. The child sent flying by the skateboarder bounced in slow motion and lay still. There was a long pause. Pigeons froze against the gray sky. Promenaders turned to stone. Traffic stopped on Beacon Street. The child’s body lay inert on the asphalt like a piece of crumpled newspaper. The mother’s cry was lost in the space between the stars. How are we to understand the silence of the universe? They say that certain meteorites, upon entering the Earth’s atmosphere, disintegrate with noticeable sound, but beyond the Earth’s skin of air the sky is silent. There are no voices in the burning bush of the Galaxy. The Milky Way flows across the dark shoals of the summer sky without an audible ripple. Stars blow themselves to smithereens; we hear nothing. Millions of solar systems are sucked into black holes at the centers of the galaxies; they fall like feathers. The universe fattens and swells in a Big Bang, a fireball of Creation exploding from a pinprick of infinite energy, the ultimate firecracker; there is no soundtrack. The membrane is ruptured, a child flies through the air, and the universe is silent.

We're standing at the bar in Club Myst, one of the trendiest nightclubs in Las Vegas. The music is loud, and people are grinding, bodies close together, on the dance floor. The lighting inside the club is dim, and everything is done in dark woods and a dark color scheme. The ceiling is dotted with lights that are, I’m guessing, supposed to look like stars, and the ground is covered in a foot- deep mist that's lit a deep green from underneath, giving the room a strange, mystical glow.

Trust yourself. Fall forward. Take a leap of faith. And all will fall into place.

Under Two Windows" I. AUBADE The dawn is here—and the long night through I have never seen thy face, Though my feet have worn the patient grass at the gate of thy dwelling-place. While the white moon sailed till, red in the west, it found the far world edge, No leaflet stirred of the leaves that climb to garland thy window ledge. Yet the vine had quivered from root to tip, and opened its flowers again, If only the low moon's light had glanced on a moving casement pane. Warm was the wind that entered in where the barrier stood ajar, And the curtain shook with its gentle breath, white as young lilies are; But there came no hand all the slow night through to draw the folds aside, (I longed as the moon and the vine-leaves longed!) or to set the casement wide. Three times in a low-hung nest there dreamed his five sweet notes a bird, And thrice my heart leaped up at the sound I thought thou hadst surely heard. But now that thy praise is caroled aloud by a thousand throats awake, Shall I watch from afar and silently, as under the moon, for thy sake? Nay—bold in the sun I speak thy name, I too, and I wait no more Thy hand, thy face, in the window niche, but thy kiss at the open door! II. NOCTURNE My darling, come!—The wings of the dark have wafted the sunset away, And there's room for much in a summer night, but no room for delay. A still moon looketh down from the sky, and a wavering moon looks up From every hollow in the green hills that holds a pool in its cup. The woodland borders are wreathed with bloom—elder, viburnum, rose; The young trees yearn on the breast of the wind that sighs of love as it goes. The small stars drown in the moon-washed blue but the greater ones abide, With Vega high in the midmost place, Altair not far aside. The glades are dusk, and soft the grass, where the flower of the elder gleams, Mist-white, moth-like, a spirit awake in the dark of forest dreams. Arcturus beckons into the east, Antares toward the south, That sendeth a zephyr sweet with thyme to seek for thy sweeter mouth. Shall the blossom wake, the star look down, all night and have naught to see? Shall the reeds that sing by the wind-brushed pool say nothing of thee and me? —My darling comes! My arms are content, my feet are guiding her way; There is room for much in a summer night, but no room for delay! Petry. (November 1912)

We're standing at the bar in Club Myst, one of the trendiest nightclubs in Las Vegas. The music is loud, and people are grinding, bodies close together, on the dance floor. The lighting inside the club is dim, and everything is done in dark woods and a dark color scheme. The ceiling is dotted with lights that are, I’m guessing, supposed to look like stars, and the ground is covered in a foot-deep mist that's lit a deep green from underneath, giving the room a strange, mystical glow.

In Las Vegas, the odds on the North Stars winning the Stanley Cup were 10,000 to 1. On the Pittsburgh Penguins, they were 8 to 1.

Congratulations, my son. If all has gone to plan, you passed the test we laid for you in the tomb. Merissa Vega assured me you would protect her daughter no matter what spell you were under. Pride doesn’t come close to what I feel toward you right now. If you have gained the Imperial Star, then I know you are the man I hoped you would become. Now, the star must remain hidden. Only your most loyal of friends can know its location. A star cannot be seen by Seers or divined by the arcane arts. So long as you protect the knowledge of its location, it can never be discovered by Lionel Acrux. This brings me onto your next task. You must reform the Zodiac Guild. Choose those strong of heart, mind and soul to swear an oath to protect the Vega royals. They will need a strong following to help them ascend, Fae who they can trust with their lives. Choose wisely. To bind new members to the Guild, you will need the Chalice of Flames, an item that has long been in my possession. Spill your blood beneath the light of the full moon to summon the chalice.

Your final task is the greatest of all. You must ensure the Vega twins are crowned. They must become true Queens so that they are able to wield the Imperial Star. Meanwhile, you must safeguard the knowledge in this diary. Each spell the star can cast is accessed by a powerful word. Words which are contained within these pages. You must memorise each one, ensure the Vegas know them by heart and never, ever forget them. You must not try to use them on the Imperial Star yourself or allow the Vegas to attempt it before they are crowned, for only a reigning sovereign can wield the Imperial Star. All others will perish if they attempt it. Orion turned the page and a word ran across the centre of it in curling script. Immunisia Immunity. This spell grants lifelong immunity to all illnesses.

want to offer you an alliance,” Octavius said, moving to stand beside the mirror as I admired it. “I know you are seeking to claim the throne from the Vegas, but you haven’t got the numbers behind you to face them. Uniting with the Dragons would make us all strong enough to achieve it together.” Hope stirred in my chest as I looked to him, but suspicion too. “And how am I to trust you?” The man dropped down to one knee with a smile, taking out a wooden box and offering me a ring. “Marry me and make a promise on the stars. Our families will be bound by the powers of the heavens. Acrux and Umbra. Our Seer has had a great prophesy. Gaze into the mirror so you can see for yourself.” He gestured for me to step forward and I did so cautiously. I needed this, I wanted to be a queen more than anything else in the world. But I had never wanted to share my throne…

looked happy, in love. So maybe sharing my throne wasn’t unfathomable. If ever a man were to capture my heart, it wouldn’t be so bad if it were this one. The vision in the mirror faded and I looked at Octavius in awe. “I’ll have the Imperial Star?” “It will be ours,” he growled. “The Vegas will fall, we’ll claim the Palace of Flames and destroy the last of the Phoenixes.” “But how will we defeat the Queen?” I asked. “I know of a dark curse that even her power cannot overcome,” he said with a twisted smile. “Once her army is defeated, you can use the power of the shadows to ensure we can destroy her at last.” Excitement swelled in my chest and I nodded keenly, accepting the ring from him and the vision changed once more.

When I finally got back to my family’s winter cabin last night, I went to my amplifying chamber and managed to see a whole hell of a lot of things that my time in the Royal Seer's Chair opened up to me. And there was one prophesy which I can't see any way around but this." "But what?" I asked in concern, frowning at him as he stepped closer to me with his brow furrowing.  "One of my sisters is going to die today. And the only possible chance we have to save them is by me bringing you to the caves of the forgotten." "The what of where?" I demanded, my heart racing at the idea of Roxy or Darcy not making it through the day as I tried to figure out what the fuck was going to happen that could mean they might not. "It's an ancient set of caverns in the far south of Solaria, hidden within a jungle and long since forgotten by our kind. My visions led me there once before and I found a ring which saved my life. The stars won't show me what will happen when we get there or anything at all other than to whisper that it is the only chance there is for both Vega Princesses to survive the day. So are you with me?" he asked urgently and I could see how serious he was about this as I nodded. "You're sure the best thing I can do for Roxy is to go with you now?" I demanded. "And how is Darcy involved in this?" "Your father captured her and Lance last night. I was so lost in the visions the stars had flooded me with that I didn't see him coming for them until after it had already come to pass. I'm more sorry for that than words can express. I called the other Heirs and told them what’s happening. But if you and I don't head to the caves now then I know that one of my sisters will die.

This is as far as I go," Gabriel said darkly, reaching out to grasp my shoulder and causing me to turn and look at him. "I can't see what you're going to find beyond that door, Darius. I only know that once you're inside, whatever happens will twist the wheel of fate in a fundamental way that could change many things. So many that I can't even begin to see them all." "But if I do something right in there, the Vegas will survive?" I asked, needing to know it without any doubt. Gabriel hesitated, reaching out to brush his fingers over the stone door, making it quiver and illuminate with his star sign for a moment before he drew back. "Yes. You can save them by going in there. But I can't see any more than that. This is a test for you alone." "Then I'll be certain not to fail it," I swore, clapping him on the shoulder and stepping forward to look at the door.

Your first and most urgent task. Dearest Lancelot, It’s time for you to learn the ways of the Zodiac Guild. The last of us lie dead, but I am the only one who found a grave. My death was planned meticulously for this purpose. And in my death, I can only hope you are the man Queen Vega foresaw you to be. It is time for you to resurrect the Guild. You will take Ling Astrum’s position as Guild Master and initiate your most trusted, loyal friends to its cause. The Imperial Star awaits you in my tomb at The Everhill Graveyard. Know this, it can only be wielded by a reigning sovereign, so it must stay out of Lionel Acrux’s hands if he has ascended to the throne. If things have gone as hoped, you will have access to the rings of the Vega Princesses. Both are needed to open the tomb, but be warned, this ancient graveyard is heavily protected. Only those proficient in dark magic can enter. Go now while the stars are in alignment. You can do this, my boy.