Wife Swap Quotes

I am a 5'1 petite female. My pistol is my equalizer.

Recently, a lot of Americans have swapped the awkward phrase 'same-sex marriage' for the term 'marriage equality'. This phrase is ordinarily implied to mean that same-sex couples will have the rights different-sexed couples do. But it could also mean that marriage is between equals. That's not what traditional marriage was. Throughout much of history in the west, the laws defining marriage made the husband essentially an owner and the wife a possession. Or the man a boss and the woman a slave.

beginning to tickle my skin with its promise and I knew I had to get him to hurry before I lost control.

A lot of people like wife swapping. I've got such a great wife I would only swap with a Mormon. It'd have to be a two-for-one deal.

There is so much going on, but there is so much less of any real value happening. I don’t think that books or fiction in general is as important to the society or culture at large as it was in years gone by- we are the products of what I believe is a decidedly- and purposefully- less literate culture. To utilize a symbol everyone can understand intuitively, Big Brother WANTS you to be stupid- and He wants you to tune in to Joe Millionaire and Friends, to Wife Swap and Dog The Bounty Hunter, and a million other circuitous destinations where He will provide you with examples of precisely how brainless and inane He wants you to be. Stupid is as stupid does. Stupid citizens aren’t a threat to the status quo.

Standing there, the doctor's wife watched the two blind men who were arguing, she noticed they made no gestures, that they barely moved their bodies, having quickly learned that only their voice and hearing now served any purpose, true, they had their arms, that they could fight, grapple, come to blows, as the saying goes, but a bed swapped by mistake was not worth so much fuss, if only all life's deceptions were like this one, and all they had to do was to come to some agreement, Number two is mine, yours is number three, let that be understood once and for all, Were it not for the fact that we're blind this mix-up would never had happened, You're right, our problem is that we're blind. The doctor's wife said to her husband, The whole world is right here.

Two seventeenth-century Bachs, identical twins and both of course musicians, were so alike, especially when they chose to wear similar clothes, that even their wives could not tell them apart, and they could indulge in occasional wife swapping without their spouses’ noticing. Their playing, too, was indistinguishable. One of these twins, Ambrosius, was the father of Johann Sebastian Bach. 2

The winds of change blew through the dream factories of make-believe, tore at its crinoline tatters ... The hedonists, the homosexuals, the hemophiliac bleeding hearts, the God-haters, the quick-buck artists who substituted shock for talent, all cried: "Shake 'em! Rattle 'em! God is dead. Long live pleasure! Nudity? Yea! Wife-swapping? Yea! Liberate the world from prudery. Emancipate our films from morality!" ... Kill for thrill—shock! Shock! To hell with the good in man, Dredge up his evil—shock! Shock! "Practically all the Hollywood film-making of today is stooping to cheap salacious pornography in a crazy bastardization of a great art to compete for the 'patronage' of deviates and masturbators.

Liar,' he said in disgust. 'You're still playing doctors and nurses with the guy you screwed Charlie over with.' Her mouth fell open. 'Don't worry, I won't tell my brother. He's got enough to deal with.' 'I would never have an affair.' 'See here's where you and I part ways on our definition of fidelity,' he said. 'I think tonsil hockey with another man is off the agenda for a married woman. Call me old-fashioned.' Her fury was unexpected. 'Who started that rumor...who!' 'What are you talking about? You admitted it.

Yet the extravagant enthusiasm for profit persisted among businessmen. In the spring of 1969 Senator Long [spoke out against] a partisan of the oil industry...[and] that further taxation of oil profits would be disastrous. Such taxes... would remove "all business inventive and lead to Thursday to Tuesday weekends, wife swapping and drinking." Without the lure of profit, work would thus become meaningless. Americans would become pagan again and evils would prevail much like those that had inflamed Captain Endicott three centuries earlier

The mature response, however, is not to leave; it's to change -- ourselves. Whenever marital dissatisfaction rears its head in my marriage -- as it does in virtually every marriage -- I simply check my focus. The times that I am happiest and most fulfilled in my marriage are the times when I am intent on drawing meaning and fulfillment from becoming a better husband rather than from demanding a "better" wife. If you're a Christian, the reality is that, biblically speaking, you can't swap your spouse for someone else. But you can change yourself. And that change can bring the fulfillment that you mistakenly believe is found only by changing partners. In one sense, it's comical: Yes, we need a changed partner, but the partner that needs to change is not our spouse, it's us! I don't know why this works. I don't know how you can be unsatisfied maritally, and then offer yourself to God to bring about change in your life and suddenly find yourself more satisfied with the same spouse. I don't why this works, only that it does work. It takes time, and by time I mean maybe years. But if your heart is driven by the desire to draw near to Jesus, you find joy by becoming like Jesus. You'll never find joy by doing something that offends Jesus -- such as instigating a divorce or an affair.

Maybe tangled will be a spectacular rump. maybe i will adore it: it could happen. But one thing is for sure: tangled will not be rapunzel. And thats too bad , because rapunzel is an specially layered and relevant fairytale, less about the love between a man and a woman than the misguided attempts of a mother trying to protect her daughter from (what she perceives ) as the worlds evils. The tale, you may recall, begins with a mother-to-bes yearning for the taste of rapunzel, a salad green she spies growing in the garden of the sorceress who happens to live next door. The womans craving becomes so intense , she tells her husband that if he doesn't fetch her some, she and their unborn baby will die. So he steals into the baby's yard, wraps his hands around a plant, and, just as he pulls... she appears in a fury. The two eventually strike a bargain: the mans wife can have as much of the plant as she wants- if she turns over her baby to the witch upon its birth. `i will take care for it like a mother,` the sorceress croons (as if that makes it all right). Then again , who would you rather have as a mom: the woman who would do anything for you or the one who would swap you in a New York minute for a bowl of lettuce? Rapunzel grows up, her hair grows down, and when she is twelve-note that age-Old Mother Gothel , as she calls the witch. leads her into the woods, locking her in a high tower which offers no escape and no entry except by scaling the girls flowing tresses. One day, a prince passes by and , on overhearing Rapunzel singing, falls immediately in love (that makes Rapunzel the inverse of Ariel- she is loved sight unseen because of her voice) . He shinnies up her hair to say hello and , depending on the version you read, they have a chaste little chat or get busy conceiving twins. Either way, when their tryst is discovered, Old Mother Gothel cries, `you wicked child! i thought i had separated you from the world, and yet you deceived me!` There you have it : the Grimm`s warning to parents , centuries before psychologists would come along with their studies and measurements, against undue restriction . Interestingly the prince cant save Rapuzel from her foster mothers wrath. When he sees the witch at the top of the now-severed braids, he jumps back in surprise and is blinded by the bramble that breaks his fall. He wanders the countryside for an unspecified time, living on roots and berries, until he accidentally stumbles upon his love. She weeps into his sightless eyes, restoring his vision , and - voila!- they rescue each other . `Rapunzel` then, wins the prize for the most egalitarian romance, but that its not its only distinction: it is the only well-known tale in which the villain is neither maimed nor killed. No red-hot shoes are welded to the witch`s feet . Her eyes are not pecked out. Her limbs are not lashed to four horses who speed off in different directions. She is not burned at the stake. Why such leniency? perhaps because she is not, in the end, really evil- she simply loves too much. What mother has not, from time to time, felt the urge to protect her daughter by locking her in a tower? Who among us doesn't have a tiny bit of trouble letting our children go? if the hazel branch is the mother i aspire to be, then Old Mother Gothel is my cautionary tale: she reminds us that our role is not to keep the world at bay but to prepare our daughters so they can thrive within it. That involves staying close but not crowding them, standing firm in one`s values while remaining flexible. The path to womanhood is strewn with enchantment , but it also rifle with thickets and thorns and a big bad culture that threatens to consume them even as they consume it. The good news is the choices we make for our toodles can influence how they navigate it as teens. I`m not saying that we can, or will, do everything `right,` only that there is power-magic-in awareness.

Why’re you still here?” She yawned. “Go away. Jared will be here any moment, and I’ll be nothing but an unfortunate memory.” I should go. Pivot and leave. To my relief, I started doing just that. The echo of my footsteps bounced on the bare walls. I did not look back. Knew that if I caught a glimpse of her again, I’d make a mistake. This was for the best. It was time to cut my losses, admit my one mistake in my thirty-one years of life, and move on. My life would return to normal. Peaceful. Tidy. Noiseless. Unexpensive. My hand curled around the doorknob, about to push it open. “Hey, asshole.” I stopped but didn’t turn around. I refused to answer to the word. “What do you say—one last time for the road?” I glanced behind my shoulder, knowing I shouldn’t, and found my soon-to-be ex-wife propped on the hood of my Maybach, her dress hiked up her waist, revealing she’d worn no panties. Her bare pussy glistened, ready for me. A dare. I never shied away from those. Throwing caution to the wind (and the remaining few brain cells she hadn’t fried with her mindless conversation), I marched to her. When I reached the car, she lifted her hand to stop me, slapping her palm against my chest. “Not so fast.” It is going to be fast and a half, seeing as I’m about to come just from watching you like this. I arched an eyebrow. “Cold feet?” “Nah, low temperature is your thing. Don’t wanna steal your thunder. Either we go all the way, or we go nowhere at all. It’s all or nothing.” It infuriated me that each time I gave her a choice, she fabricated another. If I gave her an option, she swapped it with one of her creation. And now, on the heels of my ultimatum, she’d dished out her own. And like a doomed fool, I chose everything. I chose my downfall. We exploded together in a filthy, frustrated kiss full of tongue and teeth. She latched on to my neck, half-choking me, half-hugging me. I fumbled with the zipper of my suit pants, freeing my cock, which by this point gleamed with precum, so heavy and so hard it was uncomfortable to stand. My teeth grazed down her chin, trailing her throat before I did what I hadn’t done in five fucking years and pushed into her, all at once. Bare. My cock disappeared inside her, hitting a hot spot, squeezed to death by her muscles. Oh, fuck. My forehead fell against hers. A thin coat of sweat glued us together. Never in my life had anything felt quite so good. I wanted to evaporate into mist, seep into her, and never come back. I wanted to live, breathe, and exist inside my beautiful, maddening, conniving, infuriating curse of a wife. She was the one thing I never wanted and the only thing I craved. Worst, still, was the fact that I knew I couldn’t deny her a single thing she desired, be it a frock or piece of jewelry. Or, unfortunately, my heart on a platter, speared straight through with a skewer for her to devour. Still beating and as vibrant red as candied apples. I retreated, then slammed into her harder. Pulled and rushed back in. My fingers gripped her by the waist, pinning her down, wild with lust and desire. I drove into her in jerky, frenzied movements of a man starved for sex, fucking the ever-living shit out of her. Now that I’d officially filed a restraining order against my logic, I grabbed the front of her throat, sinking my teeth onto her lower lip. My spearmint breath skated over her face. The hood of the car warmed her thighs, still hot from the engine, jacking up the temperature between us even further. Small, desperate yelps fled her mouth. The only sounds in the cavernous space came from my grunts, our skin slapping together, and her tiny gasps of pleasure. The car rocked back and forth to the rhythm of my thrusts... (chapter 44)

Not surprisingly, the exchange of wives from couples who are often polar opposites has led to the show’s fair share of scandals. An Oklahoma man sued the show for misrepresentation and distress when his “wife” turned out to be a gay man. A man on the UK version of the show committed suicide after being humiliated when his sexual practices were made public. A participant who lost his job and received death threats after being labeled “the worst husband in America” accused the producers of manufacturing a character for him to play. He claimed that, under duress of constant cameras and the threat that he was not being entertaining enough, they persuaded him to amp up his hostility toward his swapped wife. Another participant, who was a teenager when her show aired, sued the show, claiming that she was represented in such a false light on air that she suffered bullying at school that ruined

Not surprisingly, the exchange of wives from couples who are often polar opposites has led to the show’s fair share of scandals. An Oklahoma man sued the show for misrepresentation and distress when his “wife” turned out to be a gay man. A man on the UK version of the show committed suicide after being humiliated when his sexual practices were made public. A participant who lost his job and received death threats after being labeled “the worst husband in America” accused the producers of manufacturing a character for him to play. He claimed that, under duress of constant cameras and the threat that he was not being entertaining enough, they persuaded him to amp up his hostility toward his swapped wife. Another participant, who was a teenager when her show aired, sued the show, claiming that she was represented in such a false light on air that she suffered bullying at school that ruined her confidence. The lawsuit was settled for an undisclosed sum.

Shallow. Harmless. A little bit stupid. Crazy in love with you. Needs access to every part of the house. Let’s see . . . Who am I? Well, Roman’s trophy wife, of course. I am pretty, elegant, and extremely snobbish. I love wearing expensive clothes, just the best labels. I’m not really into dresses unless the occasion requires it. I much more prefer designer jeans, paired with silky blouses. The heels are a must.” She pauses, opens her eyes, and turns toward me. “Are heels a must, do you think?” She scrunches her tiny nose. “Of course they are. Damn it. I hate wearing heels.” She closes her eyes again and continues. “The heels are a must, and I have dozens of them. Roman loves when I wear them, he says they make my butt look amazing. I’m also very self-conscious about my height, and wearing heels all the time makes me forget how short I am. My favorite pastime is shopping, and I buy a ton of clothes. My husband has to allocate one driver specifically for me and my shopping sprees.” Another pause and she turns toward me again. “Roman, I’ll need funds to support her addiction with clothes. She is an impulse buyer.” “You’ll get anything you need,” I laugh. She’s completely nuts. “My husband is crazy about me, and he allows me to do whatever I want with the house, like rearrange furniture, so the vibe of the house works better with the earth vibrations. The house feels terribly cold, so I buy a bunch of indoor plants and spread them everywhere. I also tour every single room because I want to make sure the unobstructed energy flows, so I rearrange paintings and mirrors. I also hate the dining room table, it’s so overstated, and I decide to swap it with a sleek glass one I found in an interior design magazine.” Another pause. “This woman is expensive, Roman. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.” “I’ll manage.” “Your funeral.” She shrugs and continues. “My husband doesn’t like it when he’s interrupted, but of course, that doesn’t apply to me. I often come into his office just to check up on him and exchange a few kisses. It annoys his men so much. They wonder what he sees in me and why he allows me so much freedom, and then decide he’s thinking with his dick. I’m always around, and they hate it.

Believe me, Dirk; I've been in this game a long time and I know what I'm talking about. I've seen it all; wife swapping during a coach tour of Norfolk churches, orgies at a pensioners' whist drive in Somerset; a mystery weekend where the real mystery turned out to be, what was Mr Preston doing hanging upside down in the wardrobe with an apple in his mouth.

He didn’t call on Monday. “Pay up,” she said. “He’ll call,” Mike said. “He took a pinky pledge.” Mike made a good point, but how long could even a sacred vow sealed by the tiniest and most loyal of digits forestall the inevitable? They decided to give it a month. Tuesday morning the phone rang. “Hello,” said an increasingly familiar British voice. “Oh, hello,” Becky said, and thought both “darn” and “hooray!” at the same time. She hated to lose a bet. “Yes, hello,” said Felix. Becky cleared her throat. “Did you go skiing?” “Yes, you know, we did.” “Have a good time?” “Mm hmm.” “Good. Sounds . . . fun.” “So, what do we do now, swap stories about our exes? Watch a reality show on the telly and narrate to each other in scandalized voices? ‘Can you believe she said that? I can’t believe she just said that.’ ” “You don’t have many friends, do you?” “I have thousands of fans, dozens of itinerant co-workers, a handful of acolytes, three stalkers, and a wife.” “You have no idea how this friend business works, do you?” she asked. “Ha!” Felix said. “Ooh, that was a nice ‘ha.’ Full of derisive laughter and effectively evading any answer.” “Thank you. I’ve been practicing.” “Yeah. So, um, you have no idea how this works, do you?” “I know there’s talking involved, don’t I? And phone calling. I’m not such an amateur as all that.” “Felix, are you really sure you want to be friends?” “What do you mean, am I sure? I took a pinky pledge.

Shauna sighed at me, condescendingly. "Believe me, Dirk; I've been in this game a long time and I know what I'm talking about. I've seen it all; wife swapping during a coach tour of Norfolk churches, orgies at a pensioners' whist drive in Somerset; a mystery weekend where the real mystery turned out to be, what was Mr Preston doing hanging upside down in the wardrobe with an apple in his mouth?

Beneath a common banner of classically liberal ideals, countless tastes and traditions may mingle and mutate into ever new and exciting flavors. Thus would be born a homeland where the Sufi dances with the Breslover round the neon jungle of Times Square, where the Baptist of Alabama nods along to the merry melodies of Klezmer, where the secular humanist combs the Christian gospels and poems of Rumi for their many pearls of wisdom, where the Guatemalan college student learns to read Marx and Luxemburg in their original German, where the Russian refugee freely markets her own art painted in the style of Van Gogh and Monet, where the Italian chef tosses up a Lambi stew for his Haitian wife’s birthday while the operas of Verdi and Puccini play on his radio, where two brothers in exile share the wine of the Galilee and Golan while listening to the oud music of Nablus and Nazareth, where the Buddhist and the stoner hike through redwood trails and swap thoughts of life and death beneath a star-spangled sky. In this America, only the polyglot sets the lingua franca, the bully pulpit yields to the poets café, decent discourse finds favor over any cocksure shouting match, no library is so uniform as to betray to a tee its owner’s beliefs, no citizen is so selfish as to live for only themself nor so weak of will as to live only for others, and such a land—as yet a dream deferred, but still a dream we may seize—such a land would truly be worthy of you and me.

He unfastens his watch. He takes out a Sunnto scuba diving watch from the drawer and swaps it with the watch he was wearing, which was a part of his wife's dowry. Plated with 14k gold, it's unfashionable now. Unfashionable—it feels foreign to judge aesthetics so fluidly. In his former world, judging beauty and ugliness according to individual standards was one of the most dangerous adventures one could undertake.

Walking up the tree-lined boulevard toward the center always brings out my inner Igor. I often run into Wincing Evan, so called because of the flinch—bordering on a Tourette’s-like seizure—he goes into whenever he spots Dev and me approaching. Head down, he’ll actually scamper across the street to avoid saying hello. In some ways, Evan is a figure of the type I aspire to cut. He translates (let’s say) Gogol. He publishes in The New York Review of Books and abroad. Unlike the blocky Boston bankers who abound in Harvard Square, he cruises in for Parents’ Day wearing a fluid flannel coat with French tailoring, for he and his professor wife (a comp-lit professor whose easy red-lipped smile could’ve sold lipstick) summer overseas often enough to use summer as a verb. Their immaculately turned-out son—Jonathan, age under four years—has shining hair and a good start on French and German. He’s a chess player with a princely manner. I swear if his voice were a little deeper, he could join the diplomatic corps. I once saw Dev, whose sandwich that day was, as most days, a peon’s peanut butter and jelly, try to urge Jonathan into swapping lunches. Young Jonathan peeled back one corner of his seven-grain bread carefully enough not to break the crust. Dev peered in. Jonathan said, Mine is brie and kiwi fruit.

if, overnight, you swapped the people on wanted posters with the ones featured on election flyers, less might change than people assumed. the prison population might have nicer teeth, and access to better drugs, while congress might feature more neck tattoos and wife beaters (both literal and figurative). otherwise the world would roll on pretty much the same.

Legalizing adultery was the job of Kinsey’s black propaganda and, in time, the job of the educational arm of the American Bar Association, the American Law Institute Model Penal Code (ALI-MPC). The ALIMPC wanted to decriminalize adultery, opening the door to “open marriage,” “wife-swapping,” “swinging,” and “no-fault divorce.

I flinch. I would prefer hatred from my wife because at least that’s a true emotion, and don’t they say that love is just a small step from hate, whereas indifference is the most cutting of all.

How could any relationship come back from that? Then again, they know one another better than they did two weeks ago. Perhaps there’s more trust, not less. This whole experience may have taken their relationship to new heights—or new depths. Maybe that’s what marriage means: having so much dirt on each other that you’re inclined to forgive the unforgivable.

If she asked him to unpack the dishwasher or get his clothes off the bathroom floor, she was nagging. If she did it herself, she was being passive aggressive. If she didn’t, she was lazy.

They kept to themselves on their farm in Ohio, until an unexpected call from the producers of reality TV series Wife Swap upended their world. Was it the scrutiny of a skeptical public that led to the tragic circumstances some years later?

fantasised might happen this evening.

Onion City was gone, burned to ashes not by the chemical fire of the drones but by a power and heat inconceivably older.

Our spousal relationships are crafted for divine callings, with purposes not relegated to powerless acts of contrition or the monotony of a somewhat satisfactory union. Not for painted on smiles and fake-it-till-you-make-it-or-die happiness, but life-giving communion with our husbands. We can experience joy even on days when we miss wedded bliss. The Lord wants that for us. Any promise in Scripture, all hope-filled encouragement found in Christ's love, is designed for his daughters, to move us from strength to strength.1 Protected. Purposeful. Powerful. In God’s presence, we swap burdens for freedom.2 We join the repetitive exchange of fears for faith, doubt for belief, and insecurity for confidence until we have nothing to trade any longer. A fullness we can’t imagine.3

【美国读书未毕业造假文凭证明】【+QV信:1954292140】艾德菲大学电子版毕业证书定做,复刻艾德菲大学假文凭回国找工作,1分钟获取艾德菲大学毕业证最佳办理渠道,复刻艾德菲大学毕业证成绩单【QQ/微信：1954292140】鉴于此，出售Adelphi University毕业文凭证书哪里能购买艾德菲大学毕业证【微信：1954292140】在线办理艾德菲大学Adelphi University在读证明海外各大学Degree版本，因为疫情学校推迟发放证书、证书原件丢失补办、没有正常毕业未能认证学历面临就业提供解决办法Buy fake Adelphi University Degree。 当遭遇挂科、旷课导致无法修满学分，或者直接被学校退学，最后无法毕业拿不到艾德菲大学毕业证【+微信：1954292140】。此时的你一定手足无措，因为留学一场，没有获得毕业证以及学历证明肯定是无法给自己和父母一个交代的。 国际留学归国服务中心《定做艾德菲大学毕业证认证》【Q/微1954 292 140】《Adelphi学位证书哪里办理》实体公司，注册经营，行业标杆，精益求精！ Wealth makes worship 财富使人崇拜。 Merry meet, merry part 好聚好散。 You are the best thing I never planned 你是我最美好的意外。 Don&; t swap horses when crossing a stream 过河不要换马。 The honest penny is Better than the stolen dollar 诚实的一分钱胜过被偷的一美元。 May you be faithful to yourself, live earnestly and laugh freely 願你忠於自己，活的認真，笑的放肆 After a storm comes a calm 暴风雨过后是平静的。 Dont compare your life with others Theres no comparison between the sun and the moon He who does not rise early never does a good day&; s work 不早起的人，一天的工作都做不好。 Charity begins at home, but should not end there 慈善始于家庭，但不应止于此。 He who does not honour his wife, dishonours himself 不尊重妻子的人，是在羞辱自己。 You had me at “hello” 第一眼見到你時，我就被你征服了。 To think is to see. 思考就是明白.

【假学历美国假文凭购买】【+QV信:1954292140】留学假毕业证宾汉姆顿大学毕业证学位证购买,Binghamton毕业证书办宾汉姆顿大学Binghamton毕业证成绩单,终于找到哪里办Binghamton宾汉姆顿大学毕业证书,办理宾汉姆顿大学毕业证成绩单【QQ/微信：1954292140】鉴于此，出售Binghamton University毕业文凭证书哪里能购买宾汉姆顿大学毕业证【微信：1954292140】在线办理宾汉姆顿大学Binghamton University在读证明海外各大学Degree版本，因为疫情学校推迟发放证书、证书原件丢失补办、没有正常毕业未能认证学历面临就业提供解决办法Buy fake Binghamton University Graduate Certificate。 （真实可查，永久存档）招代理中介/原件一模一样纸张工艺/offer、外壳等材料/诚信可靠,可直接看成品样本，帮您解决无法毕业带来的各种难题！外壳，原版制作，诚信可靠，可直接看成品样本。行业标杆！精益求精，诚心合作，真诚制作！多年品质 ,按需精细制作，24小时接单,全套进口原装设备。十五年致力于帮助留学生解决难题，包您满意。【QQ/微信：1954292140】Buy Binghamton University fake Degree 留学生买宾汉姆顿大学毕业证文凭、学历认证请联系【Q/微信1954 292 140】专业为留学生办理宾汉姆顿大学毕业证、成绩单、使馆留学回国人员证明、教育部学历学位认证、录取通知书、Offer、在读证明、雅思托福成绩单、网上存档永久可！ He who does not honour his wife, dishonours himself 不尊重妻子的人，是在羞辱自己。 Don&; t swap horses when crossing a stream 过河不要换马。 Law is a bottomless pit 法律是个无底洞。 No cross, no crown 不經歷風雨，怎麼遇見彩虹。 Adversity leads to prosperity 患难与共。 What's done cannot be undone. 木已成舟，覆水难收。 A borrowed cloak does not keep one warm 借来的斗篷不能保暖。 There is no remedy for love but to love more 治療愛的創傷，唯有加倍地去愛。 Short acquaintance brings repentance 短暂的相识会带来悔恨。 Old wood is best to burn, old book to read 老木头最好烧，旧书最好读。 Cut your coat according to your cloth 根据你的布料裁剪你的外套。 Hold fast when you have it. 在手之物应紧握. Deeds, not words. 行动胜于空谈.

学历证书扫描件【Q/V:1954292140】百分百放心原版复刻莱斯利大学Lesley毕业证书,原版定制Lesley毕业证书,办莱斯利大学毕业证Lesley University,莱斯利大学毕业证和成绩单定制【QQ/微信:1954292140】办留信网认证、海牙认证（实体公司，专业可靠）鉴于此，出售Lesley学位证书哪里能购买莱斯利大学毕业证【QQ/微信:1954292140】莱斯利大学文凭认证海外各大学Degree版本，因为疫情学校推迟发放证书、证书原件丢失补办、没有正常毕业未能认证学历面临就业提供解决办法。当遭遇挂科、旷课导致无法修满学分，或者直接被学校退学，最后无法毕业拿不到毕业证。此时的你一定手足无措，因为留学一场，没有获得莱斯利大学毕业证【办证微信Q：1954292140】以及学历证明肯定是无法给自己和父母一个交代的。Buy Lesley University fake Degree — — 制作工艺 【高仿真】— — 凭借多年的制作经验本公司制作莱斯利大学Lesley毕业证书PDF电子版学历认证报告【QQ/微信：1954292140】成绩单《激光》《水印》《钢印》《烫金》《紫外线》凹凸版uv版等防伪技术一流高精仿度几乎跟学校100%相同！让您绝对满意。 美国留学买毕业证文凭？莱斯利大学学历认证【Q/威信:1954 292 140】专业为留学生办理毕业证《在线购买莱斯利大学毕业证书扫描件》、成绩单、使馆留学回国人员证明、教育部学历学位认证、录取通知书莱斯利大学Offer、在读证明、雅思托福成绩单、网上存档永久可！ Facts are stubborn things. 事实都是顽强的. /事实是掩盖不住的. Don&; t swap horses when crossing a stream 过河不要换马。 Mischief has swift wings 恶作剧有迅捷的翅膀。 If i could rearrange the alphabet, i’d put y and i together 如果我能重新來排列字母，我要把y（你）跟i（我）在一起。 It is Better to be a martyr than a confessor 当烈士总比忏悔者强。 Make hay while the sun shines 趁太阳照耀，就干草。 Caesar&; s wife must be above suspicion 凯撒的妻子一定不会受到怀疑。 A bad thing never dies 坏事不死。 A bow long bent grows weak. 常拉满弓无力。 What is learned in the cradle lasts till the grave 从摇篮里学到的东西会一直延续到坟墓。

毕业证明书怎么开【Q/V:1954292140】原版买意大利毕业证文凭帕多瓦大学毕业证认证学历认证,留学意大利购买unipd帕多瓦大学文凭学位证书,硕士帕多瓦大学文凭定制unipd毕业证书,帕多瓦大学毕业证和成绩单定制【QQ/微信:1954292140】办留信网认证、海牙认证（实体公司，专业可靠）鉴于此，出售unipd学位证书哪里能购买帕多瓦大学毕业证【QQ/微信:1954292140】帕多瓦大学文凭认证海外各大学Degree版本，因为疫情学校推迟发放证书、证书原件丢失补办、没有正常毕业未能认证学历面临就业提供解决办法。当遭遇挂科、旷课导致无法修满学分，或者直接被学校退学，最后无法毕业拿不到毕业证。此时的你一定手足无措，因为留学一场，没有获得帕多瓦大学毕业证【办证微信Q：1954292140】以及学历证明肯定是无法给自己和父母一个交代的。Buy Università di Padova fake Graduate Certificate （真实可查，永久存档）招代理中介/原件一模一样纸张工艺/offer、外壳等材料/诚信可靠,可直接看成品样本，帮您解决无法毕业带来的各种难题！外壳，原版制作，诚信可靠，可直接看成品样本。行业标杆！精益求精，诚心合作，真诚制作！多年品质 ,按需精细制作，24小时接单,全套进口原装设备。十五年致力于帮助留学生解决难题，包您满意。【QQ/微信：1954292140】Buy Università di Padova fake Graduate Certificate 留学国外学位学历认证《制作帕多瓦大学毕业证书扫描件》【Q/微1954 292 140】《unipd毕业成绩单原版制作》毕业证、成绩单、大学Offer、雅思托福代考、语言证书、学生卡、高仿教育部认证等一切高仿或者真实可查认证服务。代办国外（海外）英国、加拿大、美国、新西兰、澳大利亚、新西兰等国外各大学毕业证《意大利文凭毕业证学分不够帕多瓦大学毕业证书扫描件》【Q/微1954 292 140】《原版制作帕多瓦大学毕业成绩单》文凭学历证书、成绩单、学历学位认证真实可查。 Teach your grandmother to suck eggs 教你奶奶去吸鸡蛋。 Caesar&; s wife must be above suspicion 凯撒的妻子一定不会受到怀疑。 From small beginning come great things 偉大始於渺小。 Actually I wanted to say on that day, shall we never get apart, OK? 其實，那天我想說的是，“我們永遠不要分開了好不好？” You complete me 你使我人生完整。 Every cloud has a silver lining 黑暗中总有一丝光明。 I need you like i need the air to breathe 我需要你，正如我需要呼吸空氣。 Pardoning the bad is injuring the good 宽恕坏人就是伤害好人。 Don&; t swap horses when crossing a stream 过河不要换马。 Diet cures more than doctors. 自己饮食有节，胜过上门求医。