Yak Quotes

I need a new friend. I need a friend, period. Not a true friend, nothing close or share clothes or sleepover giggle giggle yak yak. Just a pseudo-friend, disposable friend. Friend as accessory. Just so I don't feel or look so stupid.

Don't you hate that? Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable? That's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence.

She wore a short skirt and a tight sweater and her figure described a set of parabolas that could cause cardiac arrest in a yak.

They say no land remains to be discovered, no continent is left unexplored. But the whole world is out there, waiting, just waiting for me. I want to do things-- I want to walk the rain-soaked streets of London, and drink mint tea in Casablanca. I want to wander the wastelands of the Gobi desert and see a yak. I think my life's ambition is to see a yak. I want to bargain for trinkets in an Arab market in some distant, dusty land. There's so much. But, most of all, I want to do things that will mean something.

This sentence is made of lead (and a sentence of lead gives a reader an entirely different sensation from one made of magnesium). This sentence is made of yak wool. This sentence is made of sunlight and plums. This sentence is made of ice. This sentence is made from the blood of the poet. This sentence was made in Japan. This sentence glows in the dark. This sentence was born with a caul. This sentence has a crush on Norman Mailer. This sentence is a wino and doesn't care who knows it. Like many italic sentences, this one has Mafia connections. This sentence is a double Cancer with a Pisces rising. This sentence lost its mind searching for the perfect paragraph. This sentence refuses to be diagrammed. This sentence ran off with an adverb clause. This sentence is 100 percent organic: it will not retain a facsimile of freshness like those sentences of Homer, Shakespeare, Goethe et al., which are loaded with preservatives. This sentence leaks. This sentence doesn't look Jewish... This sentence has accepted Jesus Christ as its personal savior. This sentence once spit in a book reviewer's eye. This sentence can do the funky chicken. This sentence has seen too much and forgotten too little. This sentence is called "Speedoo" but its real name is Mr. Earl. This sentence may be pregnant. This sentence suffered a split infinitive - and survived. If this sentence has been a snake you'd have bitten it. This sentence went to jail with Clifford Irving. This sentence went to Woodstock. And this little sentence went wee wee wee all the way home.

Warlock D. J. Prod of Didsbury says: “My wife used to sneer at my feeble charms, but one month into your fabulous Kwikspell course and I succeeded in turning her into a yak! Thank you, Kwikspell!

If they'd been dogs, they would have all been in the yard eating grass and trying to yak up whatever was making them feel so lousy. Not a bone gnawed, not a ball chased-all tails went unwagged. Oh, life is a fast cat, a short leash, a flea in that place where you just can't scratch.

Bạn sẽ muốn ôm lấy ai đó khi đứng trước một dãy núi tuyết, một cái hồ nơi tận cùng thế giới, hay nắm tay người đó khi thấy hai con bò Yak con đùa với nhau. Nhưng đó phải là một người rất thân yêu của mình. Tôi có một kinh nghiệm rất quan trọng: đừng bao giờ chia sẻ những chặng đường với một người mà bạn không hết lòng yêu thương. Bởi vì khi trên đường, ta mới chính là ta nhất, và họ mới chính là họ nhất. Nên nếu đi cùng nhau mà không đủ yêu thương để chịu đựng nhau và cảm nhận cái đáng yêu của nhau, thì thà đi một mình còn hơn. Nếu không cả chuyến đi sẽ là một thảm họa.

De la grande Mephistopheles! Yak yak!" (ডি লা গ্রান্ডি মেফিস্টোফিলিস! য়াক য়াক!)

It seemed there was an announcement every five minutes from the mythical conductor, imparting sagacious gems such as "large items should be placed in the overhead luggage racks", or that "passengers should report any unattended items to the train crew as soon as possible". I wondered at whom these pearls of wisdom were aimed; some passing extraterrestrial, perhaps, or a yak herder from Ulan Bator who had trekked across the steppes, sailed the North Sea, and found himself on the Glasgow-Edinburgh service with literally no prior experience of mechanized transport to call upon?

...in a county where romantic partners were as scarce as yaks.

Maybe they’d be interested in joining our bridge club.” The last bridge my parents had anything to do with involved the Gansu Province, dynamite, and a really ticked-off yak, but I just smiled and said, “Thanks.

Dad wants to talk about her death—he needs to—but unlike the rest of us, who yak incessantly about our feelings, he has no vocabulary for it and is reduced to the clichés you’d find on a sympathy card. It’s like not knowing a language.

probably no one would have ever even heard of a yak if it hadn't been about the only animal that began with a y.

Mr. Pritchard! What are you doing? Is that O-soto-gari? No! It is not! It is a yak mating with a tractor! That is really very very not very good! My grandfather is weeping in Heaven, or he would if there were such a place, which there is not because religion is a mystification contrived by monarchists! Again! Again, and this time do it properly!

In Tibet your wealth is determined by how many yaks you own.

The path to wisdom does, in fact, begin with a single step. Where people go wrong is in ignoring all the thousands of other steps that come after it. They make the single step of deciding to become one with the universe and for some reason forget to take the logical next step of living for seventy years on a mountain and a daily bowl of rice and yak butter tea that would give it any meaning. While evidence says that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, they're probably all on first steps.

Well, anyway, we walked around for a while, looking at the animals, and suddenly he asked me to marry him outside the cage of the Siberian yak". "No sir", exclaimed Sigsbee H with a sudden strange firmness, the indulgent father who for once in his life asserts himself. "When you get married, you'll get married in St Thomas's like any other nice girl".

Well," Fred said. "Gotta go. You two come by for dinner soon. I'll barbecue something." Where Fred was concerned, that probably meant he'd shoot something first, then barbecue it, but that was fine by Tony. He'd eat barbecued yak if it meant being a part of this family

While anonymity can be used to protect heroes, it is far more commonly used as a way to escape responsibility. That’s why most of the brutal harassment on Twitter, Yik Yak, Reddit, and other sites is delivered anonymously. A lack of responsibility unleashes the worst in us.

And I'd like you to speak to the herdsman about borrowing another yak. I don't like the looks of the one your father offered. The way it stares at me, it's as if it's plotting something. I don't travel with plotters. Thieves, liars, cheats, that's all right, but I can't stand plotters.” …. “Finally, see if you can find me a good ice ax. I lost mine.” ... “You lost your--” “A yak trampled it on my last expedition. Snapped it in two. Did you hear what I said about choosing your yak carefully?

My hens all died and my plow is broke My well is dry and my yak just croaked My farm’s all rotted straight down to the roots But I don’t care because now I can wearrrrr—! My worldwide, superglide, yellow-dyed, verified, Certified, ratified, justified and dignified, Qualified ironside, fortified and purified, Bona fide, amplified, khernhide boots!

Yakety Yak. The Coasters. 1958 Spark Records. One minute and fifty seconds of sublime, in-your-face, balls-out nonsense. Everything rock and roll was meant to be.

It looked like a baby yak had fallen on him from on high.

She sleeps well, she’s got very good legs and she can stand for a long time. The Queen is as strong as a yak.

Inside a tent her voice was shrill enough to sour yak butter. She was no longer gasping, which I missed because the pauses gave my ears a chance to rest. I

You know what’s going to happen to you?” she said, with no hint of a stutter. “I’m going to march you over to the zoo and feed you to the yak.

Bana bir mum yak. Belki Allahlarımız da bizim gibi arkadaş olurlar...

For the Mongols, the lifestyle of the peasant seemed incomprehensible. The Jurched territory was filled with so many people and yet so few animals; this was a stark contrast to Mongolia, where there were normally five to ten animals for each human. To the Mongols, the farmers’ fields were just grasslands, as were the gardens, and the peasants were like grazing animals rather than real humans who ate meat. The Mongols referred to these grass-eating people with the same terminology that they used for cows and goats. The masses of peasants were just so many herds, and when the soldiers went out to round up their people or to drive them away, they did so with the same terminology, precision, and emotion used in rounding up yaks.

Çantanı kendin taşı; şemsiyeni kendin taşı; kapını kendin aç; mumunu kendin yak! Kendi işini kendin yap! Başkalarını kullanma! Kral gibi davranma, kraliçe gibi davranma! Alçakgönüllü ol!

Warlock D. J. Prod of Didsbury says: “My wife used to sneer at my feeble charms, but one month into your fabulous Kwikspell course and I succeeded in turning her into a yak! Thank you, Kwikspell!

Like the yaks that never leave their Himalayan homeland, wolves stay in the forest, the feral forest. People who became dogs only remember the forest they left when they are castrated and discarded. I should head for the forest, into the scent of wild grass. … There, I will rise when the sun rises, fall asleep when the sun sets, and gaze at the dewdrops forming and evaporating very slowly.

And the Yak, they can afford to move so fucking slow, man, they’ll wait years and years. Give you a whole life, just so you’ll have more to lose when they come and take it away. Patient like a spider. Zen spiders.

Durante unos instantes, Pelucón no se movió. Entonces abrió los ojos y levantó la cabeza, y se puso a olisquear a los dos conejos que había junto a él. No dijo nada, y Avellano se preguntó si habría entendido lo que le había dicho. Al final murmuró: «Senior Vulneraria final, ¿sí? ». —Yak— respondió él—. He venido a ayudarte a silflay. Te hará bien, y fuera podemos limpiarte mucho mejor. Vamos, hace una tarde preciosa, sólo hay hojas y sol.

Ateş oğlanı sofralarına yaklaştığında Cüce Cafer neşelendi.. boyundan beklenmeyecek kadar gür bir sesle haykırdı: "Gel hele sakız adalı; yak şu ateşi!" Oysa Pinhan içinden yalvarmaktaydı: "Sakın ola yaklaşma. yakma bu ateşi!

Amy will be fine. Amy ..." Here was where I should have said, "Amy loves Mom." But I couldn't tell Go that Amy loved our mother, because after all that time, Amy still barely knew our mother. Their few meetings had left them both baffled. Amy would dissect the conversations for days after—"And what did she mean by ..."—as if my mother were some ancient peasant tribeswoman arriving from the tundra with an armful of raw yak meat and some buttons for bartering, trying to get something from Amy that wasn't on offer.

Zenciler Küçük Siyah Sambo'yu sevmiyorlar, yak gitsin. Beyazlar Tom Amca'nın Kulübesi'yle ilgili iyi şeyler hissetmezler, yak gitsin. Birisi çıkmış tütün ve akciğer kanseri hakkında bir kitap yazmış. Sigaracılar ağlıyor mu? Yak kitabı. Sükunet, Montag. Huzur, Montag

Sorry!I just couldn`t control myself!" would be the excuse any virile man would offer to a girl he had just deflowered- after the event. He would offer the same excuse to Jupiter Foo. The King of the Gods would surely blow his top- like Vulcan, the Volcano God!Yak! Yak! Yak![MMT]

Launching into a long story involving a French tourist, a Buddhist monk, and a particularly shaggy yak, Hall delivered the punch line with an impish squint, paused a beat for effect, then threw his head back in a booming, contagious laugh, unable to contain his delight in his own yarn. I liked him immediately.

I probably should say that this is what makes you a good traveler in my opinion, but deep down I really think this is just universal, incontrovertible truth. There is the right way to travel, and the wrong way. And if there is one philanthropic deed that can come from this book, maybe it will be that I teach a few more people how to do it right. So, in short, my list of what makes a good traveler, which I recommend you use when interviewing your next potential trip partner: 1. You are open. You say yes to whatever comes your way, whether it’s shots of a putrid-smelling yak-butter tea or an offer for an Albanian toe-licking. (How else are you going to get the volcano dust off?) You say yes because it is the only way to really experience another place, and let it change you. Which, in my opinion, is the mark of a great trip. 2. You venture to the places where the tourists aren’t, in addition to hitting the “must-sees.” If you are exclusively visiting places where busloads of Chinese are following a woman with a flag and a bullhorn, you’re not doing it. 3. You are easygoing about sleeping/eating/comfort issues. You don’t change rooms three times, you’ll take an overnight bus if you must, you can go without meat in India and without vegan soy gluten-free tempeh butter in Bolivia, and you can shut the hell up about it. 4. You are aware of your travel companions, and of not being contrary to their desires/​needs/​schedules more often than necessary. If you find that you want to do things differently than your companions, you happily tell them to go on without you in a way that does not sound like you’re saying, “This is a test.” 5. You can figure it out. How to read a map, how to order when you can’t read the menu, how to find a bathroom, or a train, or a castle. 6. You know what the trip is going to cost, and can afford it. If you can’t afford the trip, you don’t go. Conversely, if your travel companions can’t afford what you can afford, you are willing to slum it in the name of camaraderie. P.S.: Attractive single people almost exclusively stay at dumps. If you’re looking for them, don’t go posh. 7. You are aware of cultural differences, and go out of your way to blend. You don’t wear booty shorts to the Western Wall on Shabbat. You do hike your bathing suit up your booty on the beach in Brazil. Basically, just be aware to show the culturally correct amount of booty. 8. You behave yourself when dealing with local hotel clerks/​train operators/​tour guides etc. Whether it’s for selfish gain, helping the reputation of Americans traveling abroad, or simply the spreading of good vibes, you will make nice even when faced with cultural frustrations and repeated smug “not possible”s. This was an especially important trait for an American traveling during the George W. years, when the world collectively thought we were all either mentally disabled or bent on world destruction. (One anecdote from that dark time: in Greece, I came back to my table at a café to find that Emma had let a nearby [handsome] Greek stranger pick my camera up off our table. He had then stuck it down the front of his pants for a photo. After he snapped it, he handed the camera back to me and said, “Show that to George Bush.” Which was obviously extra funny because of the word bush.) 9. This last rule is the most important to me: you are able to go with the flow in a spontaneous, non-uptight way if you stumble into something amazing that will bump some plan off the day’s schedule. So you missed the freakin’ waterfall—you got invited to a Bahamian family’s post-Christening barbecue where you danced with three generations of locals in a backyard under flower-strewn balconies. You won. Shut the hell up about the waterfall. Sally

The sentences still form in my mind, and thoughts still do their little show-off dance, but I know my thought patterns so well now that they don't bother me anymore. My thoughts have become like old neighbors, kind of bothersome but ultimately rather endearing - Mr. and Mrs. Yakkity-Yak and their three dumb children, Blah, Blah and Blah. But they don't agitate my home. There's room for all of us in this neighborhood.

FROM A DISTANCE the porter camp looked neat and prosperous, but as we got closer it became clear that it was neither. It seemed that everything in it was made out of castoffs—as if the porters hung around after the climbing season and collected the leftovers from our camp and put it in theirs. There were a couple of shacks that had more flattened tin cans nailed to them than wood. The tents were sewn together from bits and pieces of other tents. The yak halters were made from frayed climbing ropes. The

The path to wisdom does, in fact, begin with a single step. Where people go wrong is in ignoring all the thousands of other steps that come after it. They make the single step of deciding to become one with the universe, and for some reason forget to take the logical next step of living for seventy years on a mountain and a daily bowl of rice and yak-butter tea that would give it any kind of meaning. While evidence says that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, they’re probably all on first steps.

High in the mountains of Tibet, where the ground is too rocky for burial and trees too scarce to provide wood for cremation pyres, Tibetans have developed another method of dealing with their dead. A professional rogyapa, or body breaker, slices the flesh off the corpse and grinds the remaining bones with barley flour and yak butter. The body is laid out on a high, flat rock to be eaten by vultures. The birds swoop in, carrying the body in all different directions, up into the sky. It is a generous way to be disposed of, the leftover flesh nourishing other animals.

Wynter's Pass was a picturesque region in the north of Vohlfhein, where the Bleak Hills eventually collapsed into the Frozen Sea. From the back of Mr. Buckles, who had been on a slow trot since sunrise, Monch watched the light glisten off of the frozen branches of the evergreens. As the sun warmed the frozen ground, sending the evening's frost into retreat, Monch absorbed the splendor of it all and wondered how expensive the local real estate must be around here. He then contemplated attempting to find an agent that would represent his interests well. "This land is such a spectacular wonder," the Lion of Ahriman declared. "It would be very much sought after if they could just do something about the bears, the White Orts, the wolves, the bloodthirsty cannibals, the snow manapés, the frost wizards, the northern bandit gangs, the dire lynxes, the similarly sounding but not related pygmy bloodthirsty cannibals, the demon possessed yaks, the dead-soul animated trees, the..." Monch paused for a moment. "It just occurred to me that this land is really not safe at all. It seems almost everything in it wants to kill me," the Templar admitted.

Here in Tibet live the people my mother taught me to love before I met them. We are family, and love has undetermined aptitude and great hunger. I wander around town with a heavy heart. You can love a place as you love a person and it is especially easy to feel that way here, where man and nature are intertwined deeply. I commit to memory little things: the thin film of dust incited by the ends of chubas dragging on the earth; the gentle contours of the mountains; the steady gaze of a yak; the alacrity with which children submit to authority; the patience of women who sit in the main square with bottles of milk and yogurt for sale; the songs on the streets.

The great cheeses of Europe were born during the Middle Ages- Cheddar in southern England in the twelfth century, Gouda in the Netherlands not long after; Parmigiano-Reggiano, the king of Italian cheeses, emerged as a staple of the cuisine of Emilia in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. From there, cheese began its inexorable march toward diversification, from sharp, funky blue cheeses aged in caves to unpasteurized triple creams to tangy pucks of goat cheese rolled in lavender and fennel pollen. By some estimates, more than four thousand varieties of cheeses are produced today- a thousand in France alone- made from a dozen different kinds of milk: cow, sheep, yak, reindeer, even human.

Lhasa The sage blue sky awakens before the earth which slumbers a bit longer to still the chill of her bones and dream until the sun peeks hot through her cragged peaks bestirring weary monks to the swirl of their yak butter tea. Monks meditate upon this whorl which echoes the birth of galaxies, the twist of DNA, the curlicue of hair at the back of an infant’s head, eddying clockwise like Buddha’s journey, winding like a prayer wheel, in the resonance ofinterconnection. Bells tinkle, bowls sing, incense suffuses hints of heaven, rainbows of Jingfan prayer flags clap wildly in the wind, waving me to my quest, to surge forward, to trek to higher and higher ground -- to the rarefied air that is my mind.

Tibetan Dreams The sage blue sky awakens before the earth which slumbers a bit longer to still the chill of her bones and dream until the sun peeks hot through her cragged peaks bestirring weary monks to the swirl of their yak butter tea. Monks meditate upon this whorl which echoes the birth of galaxies, the twist of DNA, the curlicue of hair at the back of an infant’s head, eddying clockwise like Buddha’s journey, winding like a prayer wheel, in the resonance ofinterconnection. Bells tinkle, bowls sing, incense suffuses hints of heaven, rainbows of Jingfan prayer flags clap wildly in the wind, waving me to my quest, to surge forward, to trek to higher and higher ground -- to the rarefied air that is my mind.

Here's an even more revealing listen/ talk experiment: Observe yourself the next time you pray. Pay attention to how much of the time you are busy stating your case, listing your woes, justifying your behavior, or begging for something and how much of the time you are sitting quietly in the presence, feeling grateful, and just being open. The truth is, we yak our way through prayer, just as we yak our way through our human relationships, telling the divine not only what we want but how it should be delivered. And so it is with deep soul writing. We are so accustomed to doing the talking and moving the conversation toward a particular desire or outcome, that we find it difficult to create room for the Voice to step in.

There is an uncommonly harsh beauty to the Tibetan landscape. Its nakedness makes it seem incapable of deception, but under its calm deportment it conceals winds so brutal that yaks are known to die while their jaws are in masticating bliss. On hot summer days the sun licks up the rain within minutes. No puddles are formed; no moisture lingers in the air. It is only the droplets on tiny leaves of the baby turnip plant that betray rain.

It is past eight. The hills before me are bathed in a gentle light that falls like sleep on weary eyes. Everything is soft and undefined. This is the hour Kham is most appealing to my sentimental self. There is no aggression in the air, just a drowsy stillness. This is the time of the day when people are immersed in the mundane actions of preparing for the night: gathering the yaks, feeding the dogs, rounding their cattle so the goats and the dris face each other and are in the right position to be milked in the morning. A time when the decisions made are whether people should take their clothes off or lie in them. A time when night is already evident in the way people light candles.

From time to time we see hearthrugs moving over the slopes. With quaintly hunched shoulders and bushy culottes, these are yaks. In their darkly dripping coats they stand out like rocks against the bleached grass where they graze.

How should you practice these instructions? Be like a hungry yak, browsing on one tuft of grass with its eyes already fixed on the next. Practice with joy and enthusiasm, and never fall into laziness or apathy.

yak tak tic tac lick my sick dick cuz im slick or i'll flick ur nose yak on my kayak with my sack. Have a heart attack but I got ur back jack. My shoes go click clack. Gag reflex makes me hack. Jack is a quarterback also an insomniac. He had an anxiety hack but he loves lilac. His teeth covered in plaque. Playing poker? Nah, he like black jack. Friends with Zach. It's Jack the Jack he loves tic tacs.

Hello, Thor,” said the sword. “Long time no see.” “Ha!” The god clapped his hands in delight. “I thought I recognized you. But isn’t your name Sumarbrander? Why did the human call you Jorvik?” “Jack,” the sword corrected. “Yak.

Let the critics and haters blab, yak and chatter because it is part of their daily indispensable chores.

BOOKS/AUTHORS ON THE BACKS OF LIBRARY CARDS #1 Miguel Fernandez Incident at Hawk’s Hill by Allan W. Eckert/ No, David! by David Shannon #2 Akimi Hughes One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish by Dr. Seuss/Nine Stories by J. D. Salinger #3 Andrew Peckleman Six Days of the Condor by James Grady/ Eight Cousins by Louisa May Alcott #4 Bridgette Wadge Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing by Judy Blume/ Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J. K. Rowling #5 Sierra Russell The Egypt Game by Zilpha Keatley Snyder/ The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin #6 Yasmeen Smith-Snyder Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne/The Yak Who Yelled Yuck by Carol Pugliano-Martin #7 Sean Keegan Olivia by Ian Falconer/Unreal! by Paul Jennings #8 Haley Daley Turtle in Paradise by Jennifer L. Holm/ A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle #9 Rose Vermette All-of-a-Kind Family by Sydney Taylor/ Scat by Carl Hiaasen #10 Kayla Corson Anna to the Infinite Power by Mildred Ames/Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein #11 UNKNOWN/CHARLES CHILTINGTON #12 Kyle Keeley I Love You, Stinky Face by Lisa McCourt/ The Napping House by Audrey

The vultures came in shifts, sentinels to the requiem. The topmost ridges were first to welcome the daylight. A falcon swooped through the valley, scattering its benediction. I was mesmerized by the sentry duty of the carrion birds. They watched to see that all was well on earth: that death took its allotted share of animals and in return left provisions. Below, on the steep slopes that chamfered the gorge, the yaks grazed. Lying in the long grasses, cold, calm and watchful, Léo studied every crag through his binoculars. I was less conscientious. Patience has its limits, and I had come to the end of mine when we reached the canyon. I was busy assigning each animal a rung on the social ladder of the kingdom. The snow leopard was the regent; her status reinforced by her invisibility. She reigned, and therefore had no need to show herself. The prowling wolves were knavish princes; the yaks, richer burghers, warmly attired; the lynxes were musketeers; the foxes country squires; the blue sheep and the wild donkeys were the general populace. The raptors represented the priests, hieratic masters of the heavens and of death. These clerics in plumed livery were not against the idea that things might bode ill for us.

The sentences still form in my mind, and thoughts still do their little show-off dance, but I know my thought patterns so well now that they don’t bother me anymore. My thoughts have become like old neighbors, kind of bothersome but ultimately rather endearing—Mr. and Mrs. Yakkity-Yak and their three dumb children, Blah, Blah and Blah. But they don’t agitate my home. There’s room for all of us in this neighborhood.

Güneş battı mı? Üzülme, Ay doğdu! Ay battı mı, üzülme, yıldızlar çıktı ortaya! Yıldızlar da mı kayboldu, ama sen üzülme, mum yak, işte şimdi bir mum var önünde! Hayata ancak bu felsefeyle tutunabiliriz!

Weekend Wildlife by Stewart Stafford Praying mantis tapped out code, On waste ground down the road, Legs, wings and antennae spread, A walrus mugged a pensioner in bed. A chameleon joined in the mêlée, Effortlessly cool, a saurian Pelé, Mimicking every backdrop around, Eyeballs akimbo, tongue on ground. Then a herd of Ibex from Iberia, A yak stampede from frigid Siberia, Bomber squadrons of high Cockatoos, As the rest liberated the nearest zoos. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.

The food situation grew worse. Stocks of grain were dwindling. Prostitution spread to pay for hunger. Hooves and horns and bones were ground into osseine for soup. Animals from the zoo were sold for slaughter. The chefs of Paris cooked buffaloes and zebras, yaks and reindeer, wapitis and Bengal stags, wolves and kangaroos, and when there was nothing left-Castor and Pollux, the elephants.

In 1993 Aermacchi signed a collaboration agreement with the russian company Yakovlev covering the development of a new trainer, the Yak/AEM-130, which made its first flight in 1996. The partnership with Yakovlev ended in 1999, but Aermacchi continued the development of the design which emerged as the twin-jet M.346.

Tibet The sage blue sky awakens before the earth which slumbers a bit longer to still the chill of her bones and dream until the sun peeks hot through her cragged peaks bestirring weary monks to the swirl of their yak butter tea. Monks meditate upon this whorl which echoes the birth of galaxies, the twist of DNA, the curlicue of hair at the back of an infant’s head, eddying clockwise like Buddha’s journey, winding like a prayer wheel, in the resonance ofinterconnection. Bells tinkle, bowls sing, incense suffuses hints of heaven, rainbows of Jingfan prayer flags clap wildly in the wind, waving me to my quest, to surge forward, to trek to higher and higher ground -- to the rarefied air that is my mind.

It wasn't easy, however, to get rich in Tibet. The hard ground and extreme cold precluded extensive agriculture- most Tibetans still depend on yak meat and barley flour- and little infrastructure for heavy industries existed outside Lhasa. The high altitude, an average elevation of thirty-five hundred meters, and low oxygen deterred many outsiders. The only thing that Tibet seemed to possess in great quantity was its religion and an exotic past that the Chinese discovered could be packaged and sold to tourists.

For instance, the development of the power of my thoughts had been brought to such a level that by only a few hours of self-preparation I could from a distance of tens of miles kill a yak; or, in twenty-four hours, could accumulate life forces of such compactness that I could in five minutes put to sleep an elephant.

printed on endangered yak flesh in ink made from the tears of angels.

to find his two back-up soldiers dozing against the fence. He cursed and kicked them hard. Shiva turned back towards the lake. God bless Bhadra! At least he takes some responsibility. Shiva brought the chillum made of yak-bone to his lips and took in a deep drag. Any other day, the marijuana would have spread its munificence, dulling his troubled mind and letting him find some moments of solace. But not today. He looked to his left, towards the edge of the lake where the soldiers of the strange

Shiva brought the chillum made of yak-bone to his lips and took in a deep drag.

He explains that the salty smell of our meal had attracted them and to make his yaks move away from us, he empties a bag of salt further up the slope. Gracefully, the yaks walk away.

I'm actually something of an aficionado in the "waking up in strange places" department. I've woken up in hay lofts, under a buttern churn, on roofs, in a choir loft (twice), under tables, on tables, in trees, in ditches, and half-pinned under a sleeping ox. One time in Bombay, I woke up to find myself lashed to a yak.

Yeah baby, give me some of that rancid yak milk.

Yik Yak,

If you were to gather all the minutes wasted on insignificant, immaterial yik yak spent throughout the day and add them up, how much misspent time do you think you'd have? One hour? Two hours? Consider the sunk cost on that. It's unacceptable. One minute wasted is one minute too much.

Her zerresinde bir sağlık duy bedeninin, insan oğlu; her hücresinden bir inilti işit!.. Bir şehirsin çünkü sen, büyük ve derin... Yok yok!.. Bir değil, belki binlerce şehirsin hem!.. Ölümsüz ve doğumsuz, uçsuz ve bucaksız deryasın... Sayısız balıklar bulunur her deryada... Neden reddetmedesin sendeki erdemleri? Ve ne diye inkarcı başını kaşıyarak geçmede günler?!. Ey insan! Ne diye dönüp durmadasın şu dünya denen mumun çevresinde şimdi; pervane misin? Öyleyse yak kanatlarını muma, yak ve arın. Çünkü bir nursun sen, nurdansın... Hani Tanrı’nın nurundan... Ateşten değil... Hani şeytanın ateşinden... Uyan ey insan, her şey ‘ben’den doğdu hep; benlikten doğdu... Bütün aptallıklar, bütün kötülükler benlikten doğdu... Öyleyse hep benden olsun feryadın, bütün şikayetin hep benden... Çünkü ölüm var. Herkese kendi rengindedir ölüm... İyi de görünür parlak bir aynada, kötü de!.. Aynada güzeldir güzelse yüz, çirkin yüz de çirkin elbet! Ölümden korkup kaçıyorsan eğer, kendi çirkinliğindir seni kaçıran... Ölümün yüzü değil çünkü çirkin olan, belki kendi yüzündür de aynada yansımıştır. İyinin de sende büyümüştür fidanı çünkü, kötünün de... Kendi elinle kazandığındır güzel de, hem çirkin de... Her doğan ölür elbet!.. Çırak ne olmuşsa yerin altında, usta da o olmuştur... Yalnız kalmak istemiyorsan gideceğin yerde eğer; iyilikten, güzellikten, doğruluktan evlatlar, dostlar, yoldaşlar edin kendine şimdiden... Geçip gitmede ömür... Umutlar hep yarın, yarın, yarın!.. Tükenen zamanı dolduruyor hep kuru kavgalar, boş didişmeler, faydasız gürültüler... Aklını başına al kardeş! Günü, bugün say; ölüm ki kaşla göz arasında; ölüm ki dudakla söz arasındadır. ==========

The reason any person yaks excessively is because his communication is not being adequately acknowledged. He just keeps trying to be heard.

Bir ışık yak, nerede olursan ol bulunacaksın, keşfedileceksin!

My clarinet sounded like an apoplectic yak. For the brief days I blew the trumpet, a hostile-sounding pig snorted along in jerky fits and starts with the rest of the irritated band.

I have no musical talent. My clarinet sounded like an apoplectic yak. For the brief days I blew the trumpet, a hostile-sounding pig snorted along in jerky fits and starts with the rest of the irritated band. I never knew when a sound was actually going to come out of the horn and it always startled me when it did. My violin unleashed a trio of enraged, tone-deaf banshees, and I couldn’t blow the flute well enough to make any more sound than with my lower lip on a soda bottle. Something about the pucker eluded me. The drums turned my arms into a pretzel-prison from which there was no escape. I would have given the tambourine a try—I really think I might have excelled at the hip-bump—but sadly the instrument wasn’t offered at my school. I think that’s why I love my iPod so much. I have music in my soul and can’t get it out.

The Chinese word for yak meant 'hairy cow'. It is a lovely long-haired animal, like a cow on its way to the opera.

She was sixty, squat, and hairy as a yak. Royle

You only got involved with the Yak if you were balls-in-the-garbage-disposal desperate.

Esrarengiz bir yolculuk yapmak istiyorsan illa ki bir alacakaranlık ormanına gitmen ya da Ay ışığı altında gizemli yollarda yürümen gerekmez! Evinde otur, lambanı söndür ve bir mum yak ve işte gizem aniden zihninde bir hâkimiyet kurmaya başlar!

As Lorn approached the booth, a man holding a black chicken wrapped in a sumptuous, teal-silk shawl stepped up to the front of the line. “It’s Endora, you see,” the man said to Maddox, gesturing with his chin to the chicken. “She has a sensitive disposition.” Endora clucked pitifully. “And the Lunar Crossing stresses her enormously.” Endora clucked in agreement. “Understandable,” Maddox murmured with a straight face. The man patted Endora. “So … where would be the best place to put her during this time, keeping in mind she doesn’t like drafts, loud noises, other animals—particularly yaks—any rhythmic movement that could be construed as folk dancing, the smell of cooked fat, the color magenta, or any musical or theatrical performance that requires audience participation?” Lorn looked down at Endora. “This is clearly a chicken of exquisite taste and refinement

There are Bedouins in Arabia, Tuareg in North Africa, Somalis and Maasai in East Africa, Sami of northern Scandinavia, Gujjars in India, Yörük in Turkey, Tuvans of Mongolia, Aymara in the Andes. There are herds of sheep, goats, cows, llamas, camels, yaks, horses, or reindeer, with the pastoralists living off their animals’ meat, milk, and blood and trading their wool and hides.

Konfiçyüs, “Karanlığa küfretmektense bir mum yak” der. “Sayfa 124 - Elma Yayınevi 131. Basım

Konfiçyüs, “Karanlığa küfretmektense bir mum yak” der.” ”Sayfa 124 - Elma Yayınevi 131. Basım

Hayatlarımız bizden ayrılınca nasıl yaşayabiliriz? Geçmişimiz olmadan kendimizi nasıl tanıyacağız? Hayır, hayır. Bırak kalsın. Yak gitsin.

But Yak had stepped over the gray line that in private banking divides the merely unseemly from the illegal.

the comments thread dangling from the end of this video like a string of fecal material from a yak’s ass hairs.

Yak, yak, yak, yak, yakkity yak, yak. Attack of the wacky yak, wacky tacky yakky yak. The yak shack! Severe lack of yak back! Yo, that yak is whack, Jack! Yak is the brand new black, mack! We’re the yak pack!

yak

Yak benim her kitabımı, ve git - insanlara yardım et! Kitaplarda değil, kanında tut beni.

Encourage teams to organize internal “yak days,” where teams get together to work on technical debt. These are great events because technical debt is so rarely prioritized.

When I’m in charge, if someone knocks, they will be able to come in. Making someone who is seeking comfort stand out in the cold is a crock of rancid yak butter.” “Amen,” I said.

Encourage teams to organize internal “yak days,” where teams get together to work on technical debt. These are great events because technical debt is so rarely prioritized. Hold regular internal DevOps mini-conferences. We’ve seen organizations achieve success using the classic DevOpsDays format, which combines pre-prepared talks with “open spaces” where participants self-organize to propose and facilitate their own sessions. Give staff dedicated time, such as 20% time or several days after a release, to experiment with new tools and technologies. Allocate budget and infrastructure for special projects.

Zaman makinesi icat edilmedi sanırız ama aslında mum tam da bir zaman makinesidir! Bir mum yak ve içinde bulunduğun andan çık, başka zamanlara yolculuk et!

That nasty funk is harming my ability to not yak in this helmet.” “I am unfamiliar with the term ‘yak’ in this context. Do you wish to equip a—wild or domesticated shaggy ox—from—Tibet, planet Earth—with this equipment?

The monk wakes from a dream into a world of mists and thunderclouds. The clouds play children's games with him. They show him dissolving images of yaks and sheep, serpents and hawks, angels and dragons. He closes his eyes and the clouds count to ten. He opens his eyes and they look for him.