When He's Special Quotes

I'm coming back into focus when Caesar asks him if he has a girlfriend back home. Peeta hesitates, then gives an unconvincing shake of his head. Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what’s her name?" says Caesar. Peeta sighs. "Well, there is this one girl. I’ve had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I’m pretty sure she didn’t know I was alive until the reaping." Sounds of sympathy from the crowd. Unrequited love they can relate to. She have another fellow?" asks Caesar. I don’t know, but a lot of boys like her," says Peeta. So, here’s what you do. You win, you go home. She can’t turn you down then, eh?" says Caesar encouragingly. I don’t think it’s going to work out. Winning...won’t help in my case," says Peeta. Why ever not?" says Caesar, mystified. Peeta blushes beet red and stammers out. "Because...because...she came here with me.

Vhat ozzer abilities do you haf?" ter Borcht snapped, which his assistant waited, pen in hand. Gazzy thought. "I have X-ray vision," he said. He peered at ter Borcht's chest, then blinked and looked alarmed. Ter Borcht was startled for a second, but then he frowned. "Don't write dat down," he told his assistant in irritation. The assistant froze in midsentence. "You. Do you haf any qualities dat distinguish you in any way?" Nudge chewed on a fingernail. "You mean, like, besides the WINGS?" She shook her shoulders gently, and her beautiful fawn-colored wings unfolded a bit. His face flushed, and I felt like cheering. "Yes," he said stiffly. "Besides de vings." "Hmm. Besides de vings." Nudge tapped one finger against her chin. "Um..." Her face brightened. "I once ate nine Snickers bars in one sitting. Without barfing. That was a record!" "Hardly a special talent," ter Borcht said witheringly. Nudge was offended. "Yeah? Let's see YOU do it." ... "I vill now eat nine Snickers bars," Gazzy said in a perfect, creepy imitation of ter Borcht's voice, "visout bahfing." Iggy rubbed his forehead with one hand. "Well, I have a highly developed sense of irony." Ter Borcht tsked. "You are a liability to your group. I assume you alvays hold on to someone's shirt, yes? Following dem closely?" "Only when I'm trying to steal their dessert" ...Fang pretended to think, gazing up at the ceiling. "Besides my fashion sense? I play a mean harmonica." "I vill now destroy de Snickuhs bahrs!" Gazzy barked.

We all carry a light inside ourselves. It burns with the flame of our souls. But there are other people in our lives who add their own flames to ours, creating a brighter conflagration.” She glanced quickly at Ariadne, and then back at Cordelia. “James is special. He has always burned bright. But when he looks at you, his light blazes up like a bonfire.

And I am so happy that he kept me from making that terrible mistake one year ago. You know you’re got someone really special when they are able to save you from ruining your own life.

And I am so happy that he kept me from making that terrible mistake one year ago. You know you’re with someone really special when they are able to save you from ruining your own life.

Is it enough to live in a universe whose laws spontaneously create life? Or do you prefer ... God?” She paused, looking embarrassed. “Sorry, after all we’ve been through tonight, I know that’s a strange question.” “Well,” Langdon said with a laugh, “I think my answer would benefit from a decent night’s sleep. But no, it’s not strange. People ask me all the time if I believe in God.” “And how do you reply?” “I reply with the truth,” he said. “I tell them that, for me, the question of God lies in understanding the difference between codes and patterns.” Ambra glanced over. “I’m not sure I follow you.” “Codes and patterns are very different from each other,” Langdon said. “And a lot of people confuse the two. In my field, it’s crucial to understand their fundamental difference.” “That being?” Langdon stopped walking and turned to her. “A pattern is any distinctly organized sequence. Patterns occur everywhere in nature—the spiraling seeds of a sunflower, the hexagonal cells of a honeycomb, the circular ripples on a pond when a fish jumps, et cetera.” “Okay. And codes?” “Codes are special,” Langdon said, his tone rising. “Codes, by definition, must carry information. They must do more than simply form a pattern—codes must transmit data and convey meaning. Examples of codes include written language, musical notation, mathematical equations, computer language, and even simple symbols like the crucifix. All of these examples can transmit meaning or information in a way that spiraling sunflowers cannot.” Ambra grasped the concept, but not how it related to God. “The other difference between codes and patterns,” Langdon continued, “is that codes do not occur naturally in the world. Musical notation does not sprout from trees, and symbols do not draw themselves in the sand. Codes are the deliberate inventions of intelligent consciousnesses.” Ambra nodded. “So codes always have an intention or awareness behind them.” “Exactly. Codes don’t appear organically; they must be created.” Ambra studied him a long moment. “What about DNA?” A professorial smile appeared on Langdon’s lips. “Bingo,” he said. “The genetic code. That’s the paradox.” Ambra felt a rush of excitement. The genetic code obviously carried data — specific instructions on how to build organisms. By Langdon’s logic, that could mean only one thing. “You think DNA was created by an intelligence!” Langdon held up a hand in mock self-defense. “Easy, tiger!” he said, laughing. “You’re treading on dangerous ground. Let me just say this. Ever since I was a child, I’ve had the gut sense that there’s a consciousness behind the universe. When I witness the precision of mathematics, the reliability of physics, and the symmetries of the cosmos, I don’t feel like I’m observing cold science; I feel as if I’m seeing a living footprint ... the shadow of some greater force that is just beyond our grasp.

I was involved in a “third party accident,” they were entitled to recoup three hundred and fourteen dollars from the third party for a CAT scan I had received, and the letter asked me to identify whom the third party was. My surgeries total almost a million and a half dollars, and Tricare wants three hundred and fourteen bucks? I sat down in front of our computer and relished my reply. To whom it may concern: In response to your “Mandatory Third Party Liability” letter. Due to the nature of Naval Special Warfare operations and under the directive of the Special Operations Command in accordance with direction by the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Secretary of Defense I cannot divulge the names of the Al QAIDA in Iraq individuals who were directly responsible for my injuries because that information is classified. I will admit that the individuals directly responsible would have a hard time paying or being contacted due to being blown into thousands of small pieces from the multiple fire missions my team called in upon them after my injuries. Probably of little importance though; after five months of combat operations and dealing with these individuals I am of the opinion they probably do not have insurance. This is unfortunate though because I would like to seek punitive damages. The only good Point of Contact I have for the AL QAIDA organization is a man that went by the name of Osama Bin Laden. He is credited as the head of said organization. If you could contact him you may be able to recover the $314.00 you would not pay. Would you please inform him when you speak to him, there are thousands of civilians and military members waiting to seek punitive damages against him. Additionally, if you could carbon copy the entire United States Government as to his location, it would be greatly appreciated. You may not know, but we have been looking for him for the past seven years. I would have paid serious cash money to watch a videotape of the insurance adjuster who first read that letter.

At the Great Library of Alyssum, all the librarians' meals were prepared by unseen cooks in a kitchen on a level devoid of books. Several of their cooks were high-caliber chefs, with a pedigree that included many noble houses and often even the imperial palace. They were expected to provide meals for the sorcerers who consulted the library, and so for that reason, they often turned out perfectly roasted meats, delicately spiced pastries, and mouthwatering desserts with custards that looked like they were made of molten gold. Terlu had often ordered just desserts for her meals, especially near the end, when she felt she needed more and more comfort food. Once, she'd gotten an exquisite puff pastry swan, a leftover from an imperial party that had been held in one of the grander rooms of the library. Her fondness for sweets was part of why a lover had once described her as "pleasantly huggable," a description she was perfectly fine with if it meant she'd gotten to eat pastry swans. She'd also had some amazing meals on her home island of Eano: a coconut curry made by one of her aunts that had been known to reduce grown mean and women to tears, a duck roasted over a fire pit after marinating in a special secret sauce, and dragonfruit jelly on a hot, buttery donut... But Terlu thought she had never tasted anything as good as this soup. Did he make this? It had herbs she had no name for, but they made her feel as if she were being hugged. It was warm and nutty, and the vegetables--- which she also couldn't identify--- were sometimes sweet and sometimes tart and always perfect. The broth warmed her throat, straight down to her stomach, and she felt its warmth spread to the rest of her.