Xiao Quotes

Acquaintances, in sort, represent a source of social power, and the more acquaintances you have the more powerful you are.

Xiao YuAn, you’re always thinking about dying for others, but have you ever thought of living for me?

There was no bang, no light at the end of a tunnel. I didn't feel pain or even numb, and Sirius was right, it was quicker and easier than falling asleep

An old love of my uncle's. Her name was Nott." "Not what?" "Nott. Just Nott." Mack waited as long as he could before asking, "Not what?" "Nott. That was he name. Nott." "Is that a joke?" Mack asked. "Like one of those 'not' jokes? Like if I said, 'I like your dress...not.'" "What's the matter with my dress?" Xiao asked, a little irritated. Leaning forward, Jarrah asked, "Not what?" "Not a what, a who," Mack explained to Jarrah. "Nothing!" he answered Xiao's question. "Okay, then," Jarrah said. "Not who?" "Are we there yet?" Stefan asked. "I think Nott was Shen Long's girlfriend," Mack yelled back to Jarrah. The wind was fierce and cold now that Shen Long was picking up speed. "Then what's this about nothing?" Jarrah asked. "It's not about nothing," Mack said. "It's about Nott." There was a moment or two of silence. Then Jarrah said, "You know, I could push you right off this dragon's back." Mack thought that over for a second or two then said, "I'd prefer you not. Heh.

I was a puzzle. An enigma. I was nothing. And then I was again.

That's what life is all about - you're busy, I'm busy, and the end result is death. Sooner or later, that's what it comes to. ("The Death Of Wang Asao")

To marry me, two million isn’t enough; I want Lanzhou’s priceless smile that even a thousand gold cannot buy.

After all, the whole of humanity was anchored by inventions, contrivances, unrealities. Xiao Li lived on dreams, as most people do.

Those two axioms are solid enough from a sociological perspective … but you rattled them off so quickly, like you’d already worked them out,” Luo Ji said, a little surprised. “I’ve been thinking about this for most of my life, but I’ve never spoken about it with anyone before. I don’t know why, really.… One more thing: To derive a basic picture of cosmic sociology from these two axioms, you need two other important concepts: chains of suspicion, and the technological explosion.” “Interesting terms. Can you explain them?” Ye Wenjie glanced at her watch. “There’s no time. But you’re clever enough to figure them out. Use those two axioms as a starting point for your discipline, and you might end up becoming the Euclid of cosmic sociology.” “I’m no Euclid. But I’ll remember what you said and give it a whirl. I might come to you for guidance, though.” “I’m afraid there won’t be that opportunity.… In that case, you might as well just forget I said anything. Either way, I’ve fulfilled my duty. Well, Xiao Luo, I’ve got to go.” “Take care, Professor.” Ye Wenjie went off through the twilight to her final meet-up. The

Montesquieu wrote: "I have never known any distress that an hour of reading did not relieve." If one substituted the word music for reading, the exact same dictum applied to me.

The search for a proper tempo is not confined to the world of music - one must seek it in life as well

What took you so long? Waiting for Buddha?

That’s because, in a way different from what you meant by it, you can’t trust anybody.” Major Kimura lit a new cigar and, smiling, continued in tones that were almost exultantly cheerful. “It is important—even necessary—for us to become acutely aware of the fact that we can’t trust ourselves. The only ones you can trust to some extent are people who really know that. We had better get this straight. Otherwise, our own characters’ heads could fall off like Xiao-er’s at any time.

I found myself a man!" Sunlight shone on Xiao Chiye's face, dispelling the dark clouds of yesterday. This brat was truly a little rascal as he shouted provocatively, "The best-looking man in the whole of Dazhou is my wife!

Acknowledge diversity and you will achieve unity. (Rabindranath Tagore)

Utopia never really is. And the perfection we seek will always disappoint.

I'm not afraid Even if it's true That there is no place for me. My home is in my heart And in the hands of all my friends. No one can take it away from me. I am who I am.

I guess we have to help her though it. We are her team, after all.

Xiao YuAn, listen to me very carefully. I like you, the kind of like in which I want to tie you to my bed. The kind of like that in addition to me, you won’t see anyone else. In which, night after night you’ll be under my arms begging for mercy. I’ll make your eyes cry until the corners of your eyes become red, and your fingers clutch the bedding because you can’t bear my manipulation on your body. You will desperately try to escape, but you’ll be unable to move, trying really hard to breathe as you can’t stop your mouth from moaning in pleasure. Do you understand me?

Unlike the last time they went horse-riding in Qudu, Xiao Chiye was serious this time. He led Shen Zechuan up Lang Tao Xue Jin and explained it all to Shen Zechuan regardless of significance, from how to step on the saddle to how to pull on the reins. It was as if he wanted to leave it all to Shen Zechuan—His horse, his eagle, his heart.

That's a demon for you. Wants me dead but wants to be sure that he is the one who does me in.

Therefore the stiff and unbending is the disciple of death. The gentle and yielding is the disciple of life.

She was like him, trying to embrace the moon while making her way in the world through instinct and drive that came only from within, because she had only herself.

Everything was burning. Today it was the bodies; tomorrow it would be the spirit.

I never forget the remainder. The remainder is the most important part, Henry Xiao, because the whole wouldn't be whole again without it!

Nangong Shunu: "If it could prevent your suffering, I'm willing!" Xiao-Die: "If such suffering was unavoidable, meeting you would be the greatest show of sympathy to me from divinity.

Meanwhile, Mme Mao and her cohorts were renewing their efforts to prevent the country from working. In industry, their slogan was: "To stop production is revolution itself." In agriculture, in which they now began to meddle seriously: "We would rather have socialist weeds than capitalist crops." Acquiring foreign technology became "sniffing after foreigners' farts and calling them sweet." In education: "We want illiterate working people, not educated spiritual aristocrats." They called for schoolchildren to rebel against their teachers again; in January 1974, classroom windows, tables, and chairs in schools in Peking were smashed, as in 1966. Mme Mao claimed this was like "the revolutionary action of English workers destroying machines in the eighteenth century." All this demagoguery' had one purpose: to create trouble for Zhou Enlai and Deng Xiao-ping and generate chaos. It was only in persecuting people and in destruction that Mme Mao and the other luminaries of the Cultural Revolution had a chance to "shine." In construction they had no place. Zhou and Deng had been making tentative efforts to open the country up, so Mme Mao launched a fresh attack on foreign culture. In early 1974 there was a big media campaign denouncing the Italian director Michelangelo Antonioni for a film he had made about China, although no one in China had seen the film, and few had even heard of it or of Antonioni. This xenophobia was extended to Beethoven after a visit by the Philadelphia Orchestra. In the two years since the fall of Lin Biao, my mood had changed from hope to despair and fury. The only source of comfort was that there was a fight going on at all, and that the lunacy was not reigning supreme, as it had in the earlier years of the Cultural Revolution. During this period, Mao was not giving his full backing to either side. He hated the efforts of Zhou and Deng to reverse the Cultural Revolution, but he knew that his wife and her acolytes could not make the country work. Mao let Zhou carry on with the administration of the country, but set his wife upon Zhou, particularly in a new campaign to 'criticize Confucius." The slogans ostensibly denounced Lin Biao, but were really aimed at Zhou, who, it was widely held, epitomized the virtues advocated by the ancient sage. Even though Zhou had been unwaveringly loyal, Mao still could not leave him alone. Not even now, when Zhou was fatally ill with advanced cancer of the bladder.

In our part of the country, spring passes quickly. If you haven't been out for five days, you find the trees in bud. If you don't see the trees for another five days, you discover that they've put out leaves. In another five days, they're so green you wouldn't recognize them. It makes you wonder: Can these be the same trees I saw a few days before? And you answer yourself: Of course they are. That's how fast spring goes by. You can almost see it. From far away it comes racing toward you. And when it reaches you it whispers in your ear, 'I'm here,' and then runs swiftly on. Spring - what a rush it's in. Every place seems to be urging it to come. If it delays its arrival a bit, the sunlight fades and the earth turns to stone. Trees especially can't endure any delay. Let spring dally even briefly on the way, and many lives are lost. ("Spring In A Small Town")

The most direct path to Party was raising pigs. The company had several dozen of these and they occupied an unequaled place in the hearts of the soldiers; officers and men alike would hang around the pigsty, observing, commenting, and willing the animals to grow. If the pigs were doing well, the swine herds were the darlings of the company, and there were many contestants for this profession. Xiao-her became a full-time swineherd. It was hard, filthy work, not to mention the psychological pressure. Every night he and his colleagues took turns to get up in the small hours to give the pigs an extra feed. When a sow produced piglets they kept watch night after night in case she crushed them. Precious soybeans were carefully picked, washed, ground, strained, made into 'soybean milk," and lovingly fed to the mother to stimulate her milk. Life in the air force was very unlike what Xiao-her had imagined. Producing food took up more than a third of the entire time he was in the military. At the end of a year's arduous pig raising, Xiao-her was accepted into the Party. Like many others, he put his feet up and began to take it easy. After membership in the Party, everyone's ambition was to become an officer; whatever advantage the former brought, the latter doubled it. Getting to be an officer depended on being picked by one's superiors, so the key was never to displease them. One day Xiao-her was summoned to see one of the college's political commissars. Xiao-her was on tenterhooks, not knowing whether he was in for some unexpected good fortune or total disaster. The commissar, a plump man in his fifties with puffy eyes and a loud, commanding voice, looked exceedingly benign as he lit up a cigarette and asked Xiao-her about his family background, age, and state of health. He also asked whether he had a fiance to which Xiao-her replied that he did not. It struck Xiao-her as a good sign that the man was being so personal. The commissar went on to praise him: "You have studied Marxism-Leninism-Mao Zedong Thought conscientiously. You have worked hard. The masses have a good impression of you. Of course, you must keep on being modest; modesty makes you progress," and so on. By the time the commissar stubbed out his cigarette, Xiao-her thought his promotion was in his pocket.

And yet Xiao Li always spoke of her mother as if her image were mounted in a red-and-gold picture frame resting on a shrine in the corner of a tidy house, to be venerated and pleased at all times, like a deceased ancestor ever-present and scrutinizing her progeny.

As the trees turned red, then white, then naked as pitchforks, Margot and Xiao Chen immersed themselves in several forests' worth of pages, and I watched, tortured, as brick after brick of a new development was laid on the wasteland of Midtown West like slabs of gold bullion.

This time we'll be fighting for the nation. The company commander says that it's better to be the ghost of a fallen soldier than a nationless slave. For the sake of our fellow countrymen, our families and our children, we have to resist to the very end... ("Vague Expectations")

In order to avoid the tragic case of murdering one’s own husband, Xiao YuAn pressed his hands against Yan HeQing’s shoulders, and shook him a few times: “Yan-ge! Hello! Daxiongdi! Baobei, dear! Darling! Husband! Hubby! Please wake up, I don’t want to be fucked to death, alright?

Xiao YuAn: “I know that you want me to sleep in your tent, but my clothes are in my tent. You must let me get my clothes, right?” Yan HeQing looked at him: “You can wear mine.” Xiao YuAn: “….. your clothes don’t fit me.” Yan HeQing: “Yes, I know. Wear my clothes.” Xiao YuAn: “….. Alright, fine.

The best man is like water. Water is good, it benefits all things and does not compete with them. It dwells in lowly places that all disdain. This is why it is so near to Tao.

Tất cả nên, tuyết rã, băng tiêu, mây tan, gió thoảng.

time can bring about eventually supplants human justice. Chinese philosophers have an expression for this: bu de liao—knowing when to leave the past behind, instead of endlessly seeking revenge. On

Đời người như cái gông, còn bay liệng là mộng. Trong dòng sông chảy, nguyện vọng sau cùng của một đứa nhỏ vốn là muốn vung vẫy cánh tay nhỏ bé gầy gò của nó từ chỗ nhân thế mỏi mệt nặng nề này đập cánh bay lên...

When you think you are descending, you are climbing, but you do not know it. When you think you are climbing, in reality you are descending. Keep working and one day, without expecting it, you will achieve your desire.

The hardest part is keeping track of all the characters. We change almost a dozen names to reduce confusion. Two different characters have the last name Zhang, and four have the last name Li. Athena differentiates them by giving them different first names, which she only occasionally uses, and other names that I assume are nicknames (A Geng, A Zhu; unless A is a last name and I’m missing something), or Da Liu and Xiao Liu, which throws me for a loop because I thought Liu was a last name, so what are Da and Xiao doing there? Why are so many of the female characters named Xiao as well? And if they’re family names, does that mean everyone is related? Is this a novel about incest? But the easy fix is to give them all distinct monikers, and I spend hours scrolling through pages on Chinese history and baby name sites to find names that will be culturally appropriate.

Không phải, anh hùng là một sự bình tĩnh nhận lãnh việc dốc hết một điểm đại trí dũng trong phần sức lực cuối cùng và một trường cứu rỗi trong cái thế giới hoang trầm này, anh hùng, là tới từ - việc bị khinh rẻ và bị thua thiệt.

Bất kể thế nào, trong đáy lòng nàng cũng kiên trì với chính mình: đó là hạnh phúc, sợ gì là một hạnh phúc đau đớn như thế. Nàng không muốn nghĩ tới đó là nỗi đau khổ thế nào, bởi vì làm rõ nỗi đau khổ là một sự tàn khốc mà nàng không thể gánh vác nổi.

Xiao Chiye was like the blazing sun. He was also like the wind from the grassland. He stood out from the masses. To Shen Zechuan, hiding that handkerchief on that day with the gloomy and damp rain and snow was like hiding a rousing and passionate dream. In this dream, there was the unrestrained galloping of horses over a thousand li1 of grasslands, and the spreading of wings soaring through ten thousand li of clear sky. These eventually turned into an indescribable glimpse—one he would be hard-pressed to recount in detail.

Xiao Chiye was like the blazing sun. He was also like the wind from the grassland. He stood out from the masses. To Shen Zechuan, hiding that handkerchief on that day with the gloomy and damp rain and snow was like hiding a rousing and passionate dream. In this dream, there was the unrestrained galloping of horses over a thousand li1 of grasslands, and the spreading of wings soaring through ten thousand li of clear sky. These eventually turned into an indescribable glimpse—one he would be hard-pressed to recount in detail.

The sawdust flew. A slightly sweet fragrance floated in the immediate area. It was a sweet but subtle aroma, neither the scent of pine nor willow, but one from the past that had been forgotten, only to reappear now after all these years, fresher than ever. The workmen occasionally scooped up a handful of sawdust, which they put into their mouths and swallowed. Before that they had chewed on pieces of green bark that they had stripped from the cut wood. It had the same fragrance and it freshened their mouths, so at first that was what they had used. Now even though they were no longer chewing the bark with which they felt such a bond, the stack of corded wood was a very appealing sight. From time to time they gave the logs a friendly slap or kick. Each time they sawed off a section, which rolled to the ground from the sawhorse, they would say: 'Off with you - go over there and lie down where you belong.' What they were thinking was that big pieces of lumber like this should be used to make tables or chairs or to repair a house or make window frames; wood like this was hard to find. But now they were cutting it into kindling to be burned in stoves, a sad ending for good wood like this. They could see a comparison with their own lives, and this was a saddening thought. ("North China")

The Chinese are well acquainted with this way of seeing things; they often use the image of water to illustrate it. To see down to the bottom of a lake, the water must be calm and still. The calmer the water, the farther down one can see. The exact same thing is true for the mind—the more tranquil and detached one is, the greater the depths one can plumb.

I know the tutoring is not permanent. I know I cannot do it long-term. But I like it and am not bad at it. Maybe I can be a full-time teacher somewhere. At a school. Or a small college. When I can ensure them some sort of stability, I will tell them everything, the quitting of the PhD, my next steps. I need more time to figure this out, and once I do, I will tell them everything. Half of me says, By not telling the truth, you only hurt yourself. And the other half says, But by telling the truth now, without a plan of how to proceed, you will hurt them more. What would telling them accomplish? It will only cause strife. Peace of mind? Encouragement? Support? Don't say catharsis. Catharsis. I don't want to get married until I have done more for myself. But also I owe it to them to do more for myself, which is what Eric didn't' understand; he said, You shouldn't owe them anything. We argue over this. The American brings up the individual. The Chinese brings up xiao shun. When I ask Eric if he thinks a child can ever feel entirely independent of her parents, he says, What kind of question is that? But now I don't really know. There is too much already shared. Mother, Father, I think I know what it means to hurt for you.

A soup dumpling is a little marvel of engineering. Called xiao long bao in Chinese, shōronpō in Japanese, and "soupies" by Iris, soup dumplings consist of silky dough wrapped around a minced pork or crab filling. The filling is mixed with chilled gelatinous broth which turns back into soup when the dumplings are steamed. Eating a soup dumpling requires practice. Pop the whole thing in your mouth and fry your tongue; bite it in the wrong place and watch the soup dribble onto your lap. The reason I thought about chocolate baklava is because Mago-chan pan-fries its soup dumplings. A steamed soup dumpling is perfect just the way it is. Must we pan-fry everything? Based on the available evidence, the answer is yes. Pan-fried soup dumplings are bigger and heartier than the steamed variety and more plump with hot soup. No, that's too understated. I'm exploding with love and soup and I have to tell the world: pan-fried soupies are amazing. The dumplings are served in groups of four, just enough for lunch for one adult or a growing eight-year-old. They're topped with a sprinkle of sesame and scallion. You can mix up a dipping sauce from the dispensers of soy sauce, black vinegar, and chile oil at the table, but I found it unnecessary. Like a slice of pizza, a pan-fried soup dumpling is a complete experience wrapped in dough. Lift a dumpling with your spoon, poke it with a chopstick, press your lips to the puncture wound, and slurp out the soup. (This will come in handy if I'm ever bitten by a soup snake.) No matter how much you extract, there always seems to be a little more broth pooling within as you eat your way through the meaty filling and crispy underside. Then you get to start again, until, too soon, your dumplings are gone.

You are cheating Beethoven,” he said to a student who had altered a difficult passage to make it easier to play. “But you are also cheating yourself—and God!

Liquid water has importance as a solvent, a solute, a reactant and a biomolecule, structuring proteins, nucleic acids, cells and controlling our consciousness. In the meanwhile, water makes up over about half of us and the most abundant solid material and fundamental to start formation. There is a hundred times as many water molecules in our bodies as the sum of all the other molecules. Life cannot evolve or continue, or in other words, everything is nothing without water. Thus, we say that water plays a central role in many of the human activities. However, we nearly always overlook deep researches in the structure and properties of water and the special relationship it has with our lives.

But what better proof of music’s universality that a Chinese woman was able to win over a South American man while performing a European composer?

Xiao Yun is very pretty,” he said, “but sometimes a beautiful face does not make a good wife. Better to have picked someone sensible, like your mother.

在中国以外，没有哪个国家比法国的中共党员发挥了更大作用。

1949年以后，从法国回来的人在建设国家上扮演着独特的重要角色。

与中共的绝大多数领导人——包括1949年以前从未迈出国门一步的毛泽东——相比，这些从法国回来的人有着更开阔的国际视野。

中共严禁在党内搞派系，这些从法国回来的人也处事谨慎，以免被人视为派系，但是他们对于中国需要做些什么都有着特殊的理解。

The Cultural Revolution scarred me for life. Each morning when I get up, I wonder how I can go on living, how I can find peace after what I have experienced. The legacy of that period has left me with a severe psychological handicap. The sessions of

To imagine Xiao Sheng falling in love with another person, to kiss another, touch another, and do the things they do together, he just can't bear those thoughts. He rather has a knife stabbed repeatedly in his heart.

The more his teary eyes study Xiao Sheng's calm reaction, the more he feels the love of his life slipping away. Why can't he reach him? He feels so distant. What's this unfamiliar distance? And with each breath Wang Shuyu breathes in, he begins to suffocate.

Xiao Sheng is his hobby. Actually, Xiao Sheng’s more than a hobby. He's a religion. Actually, he's not just that. Xiao Sheng is his everything. It's unacceptable to give a wrong answer. If he gives a wrong answer, he won't touch the love of his life for a week. Not touching his lover is nearly impossible for him to do, especially when they are this close.

But if he cheats on me, he would be dead—and I would be behind bars for his death. Therefore, none of us would have Xiao Yu's custody. So, none of us is the only answer that makes sense." Xiao Sheng's fierce, heartfelt stare sends the message to his lover overwhelmingly well.

I like you, so I want all of you to myself. Is that too much to ask?" "I understand," Xiao Sheng replies. "I don't think you underst—" "I like you too, so I understand." Xiao Sheng cuts in. "You want to be the reason and cause for my smile. My laugh. My happiness. To reserve those rights, rightfully as yours. I feel the same .

Neither of them is outgoing but when they are together, they continuously share laughs and smiles that only the two of them can understand. Sometimes, once one starts laughing, the other would follow and couldn't stop. Sometimes, Xiao Sheng can only wonder, is this what people call happiness? Perhaps, if Xiao Sheng knew that such bliss could happen to him, he might have opened up to someone earlier? But perhaps, not just anyone can bring such bliss? Perhaps, it must be Wang Shuyu.

It is just now that he properly sees Wang Shuyu’s face, now that they are face to face with one of Wang Shuyu's hands holding his arm. Handsome. A simple word for him. Those fierce but gentle eyes that can pierce into one's soul, it makes Xiao Sheng want to stare a bit longer if it isn’t rude.

His alluring eyes light up, beguilingly like a flower blossoming in the dark night. Wang Shuyu lowers down toward the beautiful blushing face. He grabs Xiao Sheng’s hands, not intending to entwine fingers—but Xiao Sheng grabs at his fingers and so their fingers entwine together perfectly like two pieces of puzzle made to be together.

Thank me with smiles." And Xiao Sheng smiles. Although Wang Shuyu can't see how beautiful and heartwarming that smile is, he can feel it from the way Xiao Sheng's shoulder moves up a bit and his head moves a few degrees to the right.

In front of him is an innocent, sleeping face. Wang Shuyu appears to be sleeping as soundly as any child could be, and to think that this man is now a father of two. With this beautiful scenery playing, Xiao Sheng's lips curl into a smile while his eyes warm

Wang Shuyu stares endearingly at Xiao Sheng as more buttons are being buttoned. He watches how Xiao Sheng would complain but always ends up doing it if it's what he wants. Why is Xiao Sheng lovely like this? Being lovely like this, Wang Shuyu can't help but adore and succumb to his knees for this person.

You know what's more interesting?" Xiao Sheng baits. "You," he points his finger at Tou Ye’s confused face, "calling Wang Shuyu too often and him answering you. If there are things behind my back like this again, I'm going to go to your house and burn it down.

In explaining his shift away from Maoist economics, Deng Xiao Ping, chairman of the Chinese Communist Party, described his market-oriented changes as "socialism with Chinese characteristics." Today, American businesses, as well as the media and academic establishments that serve them, increasingly embrace what can best be described as "Chinese capitalism with American characteristics.

hate it when I lose my temper,” it said. A cold shudder ran through Cha Ming’s body as Xiao Heilong appeared in front of him. Contrary to what his words hinted at, his devilish figure wasn’t bursting with anger. Instead he was cold and calm like the night.

but I couldn’t wait. I wanted to leave immediately, to flee. Forever.

No. It comes from the breath, the place from which life and the spirit originate. Try to breathe correctly, and take care that your feet are placed solidly on the ground and that your diaphragm is steady. You’ll see that you are much less tense. If you are more flexible, in reality you will be stronger.

You can feel it, Zhu Xiao-Mei. The listener can hear it.

I don't want to get married until I have done more for myself. But also I owe it to them to do more for myself, which is what Eric didn't understand; he said, You shouldn't owe them anything. We argue over this. The American brings up the individual. The Chinese brings up xiao shun. When I ask Eric if he thinks a child can ever feel entirely independent of her parents, he says, What kind of question is that? But now I don't really know. There is too much already shared. Mother, Father, I think I know what it means to hurt for you.

If we want to be good at something, we must practice it.

The will to win, the desire to succeed, the urge to reach your full potential... these are the keys that will unlock the door to personal excellence. Confucius

He could illustrate Feng Xiao’s silhouette in his heart. That truly was a very beautiful face. The most dazzling of them all was perhaps those peach blossom eyes of his. Though once he opened his mouth, three parts of beauty would be gone

Four Farmers Once upon a time, there were four farmers who lived beside each other: Farmer Fraidy, Farmer Flaky, Farmer Fancy, and Farmer Focused. Out of all these Farmers, only Farmer Focused had a huge harvest every year. Fraidy, Flaky, and Fancy always had very tiny harvests. Let me tell you why. Farmer Fraidy Farmer Fraidy doesn't plant too many seeds. Why? He's filled with fear. He's afraid that the seeds won't grow. Or if they grow, they won't bear fruit. Or if they bear fruit, no one will buy the fruit. He imagines the worst scenario. He's paralyzed by the question, "What if?" Such as, "What if there's a storm that will destroy my crops? What if there's a bug infestation? What if there's an alien invasion?" He entertains his fears so much, he plants very little seeds. Because of that, he has very little harvest. Farmer Flaky On the other hand, Farmer Flaky plants a lot of seeds but he's distracted. He goofs off in the middle of the season. He spends a lot of time on Facebook. He plays video games. He watches all kinds of telenovelas—Filipino, Korean, Mexican, and Martian. He goes off to Hong Kong to eat xiao long bao. In short, he neglects the farm. Many of the crops don't grow. Farmer Fancy This guy farms in the wrong way. He chooses the wrong seed, tills the soil in the wrong way, and harvests them in the wrong way, too. When other farmers give him suggestions on how to improve, he doesn't listen. He's simply too proud. And that's why his harvest is very small. These three Farmers are connected to the first Success Principle from Proverbs.

Then it's a silent stare between the two lovers. It's calm and peaceful. But, not for long . . . In a few blinks, Xiao Sheng's mellow cheeks are rained with kisses. He can't help but giggle along. Then his lips . . . but to his surprise it's a slow—soft—gentle kiss. Loving. Doting. Devoting. Wang Shuyu slowly leans back to gain a full view of the face of the love of his life. He starts smiling, smiling his brightest smile. Staring into each other's glistening eyes, it's like time stops for a while. His eyes . . .

Xiao Sheng nods, understanding what his lover's eyes are conveying. Tears brim his eyes in return. They cuddle closer and their bodies wrap together cozily with utmost contentment. A loyal and unfaltering love. From here on, we will go through each day together. The road is long and far ahead, but we will accompany each other just like this. Side by side, together.

During the day, Shizun was so intimate and gentle with Gongyi Xiao, and this evening you lit a lantern, waiting for Liu-shishu until late into the night. What sincere affection. Why, then, are you so distant when it comes to this disciple?

Senior, you… Can you walk?” Gongyi Xiao asked, deeply worried. “Do you need me to carry…

parents have expected children to help support the family, even at a young age, and to display xiao shun, filial piety, a basic sign of moral character

What kind of jobs could I get if I could only speak translated, broken English with a strong accent?” That was it! I didn't want to work in a restaurant doing labor work for life. My uncle already found me a job working as an assistant chef at the restaurant he worked. For me, it was desperation: If I don't do anything about my broken English, I'd be doing labor work for life. BUT if I improve my English and speak English fluently, I'd be doing office work and live a much more comfortable life.

Xiao Xun suddenly gained some insight into why Yan Xiaohan's reputation was so bad - it was said that every time he argued with Fu Shen, whether he won or lost, the word in the capital would be "The court's dog has been abusing a loyal and upright man again".

making use of materials recovered and curated by The Agrippa Files Website. The winning submission was by Robert Xiao, but the whole effort was reported in a collaborative open-source mode. All the submissions and implementations of code were published online under a Creative Commons License (Attribution-Noncommerical 3.0 Unported). The contest sponsors implemented the decryption/re-encryption in Javascript, so that anyone who was curious could run the process in a Web browser. Quinn

Zig Ziglar said this: “Repetition is the mother of learning and the father of action which makes it the architect of accomplishment.

Mahatma Gandhi said this: “An ounce of practice is worth more than tons of preaching.

John F. Kennedy said this: “Every accomplishment starts with the decision to try.” And again, Bruce

John F. Kennedy said this: “Every accomplishment starts with the decision to try.” And again, Bruce Lee said this: “I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times.

Routine has nothing to do with repetition. To become really good at anything, you have to practice and repeat, practice and repeat.” Paulo Coelho

To sum it all up, it's about repetition.” David Jackson

Success requires the repetition of right actions.” Jeffrey Benjamin “Success is the sum of small efforts repeated day in day out.

Success requires the repetition of right actions.” Jeffrey Benjamin “Success is the sum of small efforts repeated day in day out.” Robert Collier

Based on his temper, he might says: “Xiao Sang Zhi comes and meets Ge Ge, and you are wearing makeup. You especially dress up for meeting me?” Dream! On! She rather be not very pretty than letting him have a chance to be narcissistic.

Life is not wonderful without surprise.

Nostradamus avait prédit la fin du monde pour l’été 1999. Comme chacun peut le constater, la terre continue de tourner et le bug du millénaire n’a pas causé trop de ravages. Le 11-Septembre a tout changé ; Saddam a été exécuté par ses compatriotes. En 2006, Liu Xiang a réalisé des miracles et en juillet 2011, Yao Ming a quitté la NBA. L’année du tremblement de terre du Sichuan, Zhang Yimou a conçu le spectacle de la cérémonie d’ouverture des jeux Olympiques au Nid d’Oiseau ; les crises monétaires internationales se sont succédé. Le Printemps arabe a éclaté. La fin du monde en 2012 annoncée par les Mayas ne s’est pas produite. Le grand « tsar » Poutine a annexé la Crimée ; l’État islamique a déclenché l’afflux des réfugiés en Europe. Leonardo DiCaprio a obtenu un oscar ; le prix Nobel de littérature a été attribué à Bob Dylan ; les frères Wachowski – que Ye Xiao adore – se sont d’abord transformés en frère et sœur, pour finalement devenir sœurs. Ce 14 août 2017, il s’est écoulé dix-huit ans depuis le jour où, selon Nostradamus, la fin du monde devait arriver.

Shen Zechuan coyly shifted closer. He leaned in and whispered into Xiao Chiye’s ear: “Even if you spare me, do you think I will spare you?

Xiao Chiye raised his head and said in a hoarse voice, “Oh, how I love you so.” Shen Zechuan was slightly stunned. Xiao Chiye looked at him and enunciated each word as he repeated, “I love you so much.