0 - God
--- 0.0 - GOD:
the Divine Mother
the Divine Presence
the Divine Response
--- 0.1 - NAMES OF GOD
--- 0.2 - THE DIVINE
--- 0.3 - THE DIVINE PERSON?
--- 0.4 - THE DIVINE ASPECTS
--- 0.5 - THE DIVINE ATTRIBUTES
--- 0.6 - THE DIVINE POWERS
--- 0.7 - THE GODS
--- 0.8 - FORCES
--- 0.9 - FORMATIONS? (synonym of aspects?)
1 - BEING
--- 1.0 - BEING:
--- 1.1 - AUTHORS:
Sri Ramana Maharshi
Saint Teresa of Avila
Jorge Luis Borges
--- 1.2 - NAMES
--- 1.3 - PERSONS
--- 1.4 - BEINGS
--- 1.5 - ARCHETYPES
--- 1.6 - PROFESSIONS
--- 1.7 - ASPECTS
--- 1.8 - FORMATIONS
--- 1.9 - ENTITIES
--- 1.10 - TITLES
--- 1.11 - ADVERSARIES
--- 1.12 - PARTS OF THE BEING
--- 1.13 -
2 - PLACES
--- 2.0 - PLACES:
the Infinite Art Gallery
the Infinite Building
The Infinite Library
--- 2.1 - PLANES
--- 2.2 - THE WORLDS
--- 2.3 - THE BODY
--- 2.4 - STRUCTURE
--- 2.5 - THE PLACE
3 - POWERS
--- 3.0 - POWERS:
--- 3.1 - ELEMENTS
--- 3.2 - DIFFICULTIES?
--- 3.3 - ATTRIBUTES
--- 3.4 - CAPACITIES
--- 3.5 - SIDDHIS
--- 3.6 - FORCES?
--- 3.7 - SKILLS
--- 3.8 - FACULTIES
--- 3.9 - CONDITIONS?
--- 4 - INJUNCTIONS:
--- 4.1 - MOVEMENTS
--- 4.2 - PROJECTS
--- 4.3 - VERBS
--- 4.4 - PRACTICES?
5 - SUBJECTS
--- 5.0 - SUBJECTS:
--- 5.1 - OBJECTS
--- 5.2 - THINGS
--- 5.3 - CONCEPTS
--- 5.4 - NOUNS
--- 5.5 - IDEAS
--- 5.6 - TOPICS
6.1 - BOOKS
Sri Aurobindo, Savitri
Sri Aurobindo, The Synthesis Of Yoga
Sri Aurobindo, The Life Divine
The Mother, Words Of The Mother - II
Satprem, Sri Aurobindo or The Adventure of Consciousness
Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche, The Tibetan Yogas of Dream and Sleep
Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra
Aleister Crowley, Liber ABA - Magick
Peter Carroll, Liber Null
Saint Teresa of Avila, The Interior Castle or The Mansions
Sri Ramakrishna, The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna
Harold Abelson, Structure and Interpretation of Computer Programs
Ken Wilber, Kosmic Consciousness
Jorge Luis Borges, The Library of Babel (short story)
Narad, Lexicon of an Infinite Mind
6.2 - CHAPTERS
IN CHAPTERS TITLE
IN CHAPTERS CLASSNAME
IN CHAPTERS TEXT
Savitri Favorites Section Map
have been longtime favorites of mine, the book of Revelation always held a particular fascination
NEW FULL DB (2.4M)
11 Joanne Harris
7 Lisa Kleypas
4 Stephen Chbosky
3 Sahara Sanders
3 R J Palacio
3 Haruki Murakami
2 Tim Dorsey
2 Stephen King
2 Stefan Zweig
2 Robert M Sapolsky
2 Robert Greene
2 Ralph Waldo Emerson
2 Paul David Tripp
2 Nina Sankovitch
2 Meghan Quinn
2 Martin Amis
2 Maggie Stiefvater
2 Lilith Saintcrow
2 Kimberly Derting
1:Lucky men are favorites of Heaven. ~ john-dryden, @wisdomtrove 2:Those authors who appear sometimes to forget they are writers, and remember they are men, will be our favorites. ~ benjamin-disraeli, @wisdomtrove 3:Virtue without success is a fair picture shown by an ill light; but lucky men are favorites of heaven; all own the chief, when fortune owns the cause. ~ john-dryden, @wisdomtrove 4:When we attempt to isolate another we only isolate ourselves. We are all God's children and there are no favorites. God is revealed to all who seek; God speaks to all who will listen. Be still and know God. ~ peace-pilgrim, @wisdomtrove 5:I love reading another reader’s list of favorites. Even when I find I do not share their tastes or predilections, I am provoked to compare, contrast, and contradict. It is a most healthy exercise, and one altogether fruitful. ~ t-s-eliot, @wisdomtrove 6:I have found in the world of film many movies including Beyond Rangoon, The Crow, Gandhi, Doctor Zhivago, and The Big Blue, a French film, convey similar understandings. I'm sure the list is endless. These are just a few of my favorites. ~ frederick-lenz, @wisdomtrove 7:Why do some persons &
*** NEWFULLDB 2.4M ***
1:BSB are my personal favorites. ~ Dr Dre,
2:God does not play favorites. ~ Max Lucado,
3:Death’s favorites don’t die. ~ Holly Black,
4:Heaven Has No Favorites ~ Erich Maria Remarque,
5:Lucky men are favorites of Heaven. ~ John Dryden,
6:All my book are my favorites. ~ Miguel Angel Ruiz,
7:the gods play no
favorites. ~ Charles Bukowski,
8:Aries in his many fits knows no favorites. ~ Homer,
9:Dior jeans are one of my favorites. ~ Theophilus London,
10:Death isn’t picky, doesn’t play favorites. ~ Jeremy Bates,
11:In boxing, everybody has their favorites. ~ Thomas Hearns,
12:Experience is a teacher that knows no favorites. ~ Napoleon Hill,
13:That is the Roman way: to give favors to the favorites. ~ Hans Kung,
14:I've got my old favorites like The Eagles and Bon Jovi. ~ Niall Horan,
15:God is no respector of persons, but He does play favorites. ~ Tommy Tenney,
16:The bad things are some of my favorites," Peter said. ~ Jodi Lynn Anderson,
17:Christopher Guest movies are my top of the line favorites. ~ Nina Blackwood,
18:The Way to Heaven has no favorites. It is always with the good man. ~ Laozi,
19:"Centurion" is probably one of my favorites [of RZA Day ]. ~ Earl Sweatshirt,
20:My buildings are like my children, so I cannot have favorites. ~ Cesar Pelli,
21:Topography displays no favorites; North's as near as West. ~ Elizabeth Bishop,
22:Motown's policy was to build one act at a time or their favorites. ~ Brenda Holloway,
23:Double Indemnity is one of my all time favorites. Thats my favorite. ~ Alaina Huffman,
24:I think my funny books are my favorites because I like to laugh so much. ~ Dav Pilkey,
25:Nakata nodded “That’s right. Pancakes are one of Nakata’s favorites. ~ Haruki Murakami,
26:When it comes to civilian deaths, violent hostilities play no favorites. ~ John Conyers,
27:Bad girls are my favorites. They make confession more interesting and fun. ~ Nancee Cain,
28:I don't have one movie that is my favorite, I have about 25-30 favorites. ~ Jeff Bridges,
29:I really don't have favorites; I'm just a fan of movies, period. ~ Michael Clarke Duncan,
30:I seem to have a knack for picking movies that go on to be cult favorites. ~ Kurt Russell,
31:I wear a lot of different things, personally. I don't have favorites. ~ Russell Westbrook,
32:there is undoubtedly something irritating about the favorites of fortune. ~ Dorothy L Sayers,
33:Fortune converts everything to the advantage of her favorites. ~ Francois de La Rochefoucauld,
34:Swaddle in our favorites, we missed out on what was in our peripheral vision. ~ Sherry Turkle,
35:Life is precious, fragile, fleeting - and Murphy's life was one of my favorites. ~ Jim Butcher,
36:Which composers?” “Claude Debussy, Erik Satie, and Maurice Ravel are my favorites. ~ Amy Harmon,
37:Death has his favorites, like anyone. Those who are beloved of Death will not die. ~ Holly Black,
38:He hated singing other people's songs. But he was singing some of my favorites... ~ Rachel Van Dyken,
39:My favorites growing up were always Billy Joel, Michael Jackson... and Placido Domingo. ~ Josh Young,
40:Start with changing unhealthy habits to healthy ones —and make them your favorites. ~ Sahara Sanders,
41:We've got a lot of people that support, but The Runners are definitely one of my favorites. ~ Ace Hood,
42:A Spool of Blue Thread by Anne Tyler, one of my favorites, and LaRose by Louise Erdrich. ~ John Grisham,
43:One cold wintry day in London, I was dreaming about salad nicoise—one of my favorites. ~ Gwyneth Paltrow,
44:The mirror betrays nothing.
(end line of "Duality" - one of my personal favorites) ~ Jenn Waterman,
45:And one of my favorites was Eddy Arnold of course. He just had that smooth, soulful voice. ~ Little Milton,
46:El Patrón said these foods were his favorites, and Matt decided they were his favorites too. ~ Nancy Farmer,
47:Start with changing unhealthy eating habits to healthy ones —and make them your favorites. ~ Sahara Sanders,
48:I read a lot, but not a lot of different books: I like to read my favorites again and again. ~ Haruki Murakami,
49:It is more difficult ... to rule the King's favorites than for the favorites to rule the King. ~ Marjorie Bowen,
50:There are no favorites in my office. I treat them all with the same general inconsideration. ~ Lyndon B Johnson,
51:There are thousands of mantras. Everyone has favorites. I prefer three - Aum, Sring, and Kring. ~ Frederick Lenz,
52:As a kid, I drew cartoon characters and comic book heroes. Spiderman and the X-Men were my favorites. ~ Kadir Nelson,
53:Halliday’s favorites, like WarGames, Ghostbusters, Real Genius, Better Off Dead, or Revenge of the Nerds ~ Ernest Cline,
54:I would love to work with Nickleback. I think they're an incredible band. One of my favorites. ~ Joanna Noelle Levesque,
55:He was in a slow-motion mood-one of my favorites, though it meant i'd be driven crazy before we were done. ~ Tammara Webber,
56:Of the many guests we welcomed to the Mickey Mouse Club, my absolute favorites were the Lennon Sisters. ~ Annette Funicello,
57:I mean, movies are like your kids or your fingers and toes or something, it's pretty hard to pick favorites. ~ Sydney Pollack,
58:I think the best music videos are the ones that have nothing to do with the song. Those are all my favorites. ~ Donald Glover,
59:Now I know why the Lord took his day off on Sunday. That must be the day he personally greets his favorites. ~ Jason F Wright,
60:Chess isn’t one of my favorites, it takes a cool calculating hatred to play well, and I’m not good at that. ~ Lilith Saintcrow,
61:I love Some Enchanted Evening, and If I Loved You. And as I sing them more and more, I find new favorites. ~ Bernadette Peters,
62:Fate is never too generous even to its favorites. Rarely do the gods grant a mortal more than one immortal deed. ~ Stefan Zweig,
63:The greatest favorites of destiny make mistakes. Our joys are composed of shadow. The supreme smile is God's alone. ~ Victor Hugo,
64:If you take my entire golfing life, my favorites are the older courses, the more traditional and the more authentic. ~ Trent Dilfer,
65:I love the Wikipedia link chain because it has led me into some strange articles. Wikipedia is one of my favorites. ~ Veronica Roth,
66:It’s beginning to feel like he’s shuffling his way through the seven deadly sins, in ascending order of my favorites. ~ Mackenzi Lee,
67:Our house was awash in books, and my mother doled out her favorites like they were special treats - which they were. ~ Hallie Ephron,
68:Those authors who appear sometimes to forget they are writers, and remember they are men, will be our favorites. ~ Benjamin Disraeli,
69:Theatre and opera were always the twin kingdoms that I felt I had to conquer, because they were my parents' favorites. ~ Diane Paulus,
70:The favorites of fortune or of fame topple from their pedestals before our eyes without diverting us from ambition. ~ Luc de Clapiers,
71:God is looking for willing hearts... God has no favorites. You do not have to be special, but you have to be available. ~ Winkie Pratney,
72:The characters [of The Tempest] have always been favorites of mine. It is one of his meditations on art - what it does. ~ Margaret Atwood,
73:I revisit old favorites like 'Buffy' and 'Battlestar Galactica' when I'm bored. I am obsessed with 'Scandal.' I love TV. ~ Jessica Valenti,
74:She cut into a waffle and said, “Gotta be honest—I’m not over the moon about the word ‘heist.’” “No? It’s one of my favorites. ~ Blake Crouch,
75:I have lots of favorites. That's the trouble with books. You can never choose your favorite. It changes depending on your mood. ~ Veronica Henry,
76:Don Karnage-he's one of my all-time favorites. He's so brash and so bold and so arrogant-and he just doesn't know what he's doing. ~ Jim Cummings,
77:He knew it was not allowed, by rules he himself had set. He would not permit himself to play favorites between Adam and Ronan. ~ Maggie Stiefvater,
78:Preston Sturges is one of my favorites. I learned about dialogue and timing from him - louder, faster, funnier. But I do love Mel Brooks. ~ Clara Mamet,
79:dried the flowers myself. Belladonna, oleander, and mistletoe. Three of my favorites. All of them poisonous … but such lovely colors. ~ Anthony Horowitz,
80:9 Masters, treat your slaves in the same way. Don’t threaten them; remember, you both have the same Master in heaven, and he has no favorites. ~ Anonymous,
81:Human beings are not nature's favorites. We are merely one of a multitude of species upon which nature indiscriminately exerts its force. ~ Camille Paglia,
82:I honestly don't read that much. Obviously I read chess books - in terms of favorites, Kasparov's 'My Great Predecessors' is pretty good. ~ Magnus Carlsen,
83:Human beings are not nature’s favorites. We are merely one of a multitude of species upon which nature indiscriminately exerts its force. ~ Caitlin Doughty,
84:We are nothing. Man. Nothing. Yet we feel as though we are special. We think we matter or that God considers us his favorites. What a laugh. ~ Harlan Coben,
85:I have to admit that I am not great at selecting music for CDs! I have a few personal favorites, and then I let my producer take it from there! ~ Karen Mason,
86:I have worked with a lot of great directors but my favorites are all entirely different from one another. They don't go about it the same way. ~ Ewan McGregor,
87:'Free Fallin'' is a very good song. Maybe it would be one of my favorites if it hadn't become this huge anthem. But I'm grateful that people like it. ~ Tom Petty,
88:I don't like to play favorites, and I do try to spread the ball around. But there's an old rule: You throw to the guys who get open in practice. ~ Peyton Manning,
89:There are no favorites at the Lord’s Table. The only cure for factionalism, immorality, idolatry, and favoritism, then as now, is the gospel. ~ Thomas R Schreiner,
90:Miss Finch said she meant to listen to new books as well as her old favorites, even the ones that pierced her heart, before she departed this world. ~ Jane Hamilton,
91:Virtue without success is a fair picture shown by an ill light; but lucky men are favorites of heaven; all own the chief, when fortune owns the cause. ~ John Dryden,
92:Love had no end. She was infinite. She was a universe, my universe, and I was hers.
Love had no boundaries, no rules, no favorites.
And no limits. ~ Emma Scott,
93:Senorita was fun to sing, but I don't really have a favorite. When you write a bunch of songs, they're like your babies. You don't pick favorites. ~ Justin Timberlake,
94:The sandwich he made was bologna and cheese, his favorite. All the sandwiches he made were his favorites; that was one of the advantages of being single. ~ Stephen King,
95:I'm getting Puppetmasters, too. They're one of my favorites. And they're coming out with new Puppetmasters. I try not to get everything, but I want so much. ~ Jason Mewes,
96:In the end he read everything that came his way, and he did not have a favorite author but rather many who had been favorites at different times. ~ Gabriel Garc a M rquez,
97:Many times the players get in there and it's just about as well as they could have done, and other times they get in there and they favorites and they don't win. ~ Ivan Lendl,
98:I watched a lot of pot movies before we did this [Pineapple Express]. My favorites were always the characters in movies that weren't necessarily in stoner movies. ~ Seth Rogen,
99:Joaquin Sabina is one of my favorites. He's like a legend. He's like our Bob Dylan, or our Bruce Springsteen. He's one of the most talented writers of our Latin music. ~ Juanes,
100:One of my favorites is "Time and Again" by Jack Finney. It takes place in Manhattan and goes back and forth between 1882 and the 1950s. It's really a cult book. ~ Alice Hoffman,
101:My favorite movie is The Wizard of Oz. I love the fairy tale of it. And Gone With the Wind was always one of my favorites because it's so dramatic and stunning. ~ Meredith Brooks,
102:Un esprit tourné à la folie pouvait bien se laisser entraîner par de pareilles suggestions, surtout quand elles s'accordaient avec ses idées favorites préconçues ~ Edgar Allan Poe,
103:I read a lot of graphic novels - some of my favorites graphic novelists or artists are Rebecca Kraatz, Gabrielle Bell, Graham Roumieu, Tom Gauld, and Renee French. ~ Matthea Harvey,
104:One of my favorites is the Fighting Temeraire. It starts as a bright orange bud but then blooms yellow, with only the tips of the petals retaining the orange color. ~ Kimberly Loth,
105:The one I can't imagine anyone taking seriously, but was one of my favorites, was the mesh football jersey top, paired with a really short pair of athletic shorts. ~ Tyler Hoechlin,
106:We are happy at the respect others pay our favorites, because we consider it a lively confirmation of our own choice, and as so much homage reflected on ourselves. ~ Norm MacDonald,
107:Because her general taste appalled him, it annoyed him that he himself constituted one of her favorites. It was an anomaly which he had never been able to take apart. ~ Philip K Dick,
108:God has all favorites. He’s not like us in that way. He doesn’t have to pick and choose, because He has unlimited love. He doesn’t just show love, He doesn’t just express ~ Joel Osteen,
109:But since doing the film ["The Invisible Woman"] I've really learned to appreciate [Charles Dickens], he's phenomenal. "Great Expectations" would be one of my favorites. ~ Felicity Jones,
110:I've loved making movies. I feel like I've been so lucky because I've gotten to be in movies that are some of my favorites, regardless of my being in them - like 'Heathers.' ~ Winona Ryder,
111:Masjid turns on the radio, and Rabindra Sangeet adds the perfect soundtrack to the scene: “Por ke korile nikot bondhu”—you bring the distant near. One of Baba’s favorites. ~ Mitali Perkins,
112:Young writers shouldn't be afraid of striving to emulate their favorites. It's a good way to learn, as long as you move on from it and don't publish too many of the results. ~ Poppy Z Brite,
113:I was drinking a whiskey at my sister’s baby shower in Cedar Falls, Iowa, awaiting the arrival of Jell-O salad, cheesy potatoes, BBQ chicken, the family-gathering favorites. ~ Chrissy Teigen,
114:My favorites movies are always character driven, it's the human equation that makes horror interesting to me, not the monsters. It's how people handle extreme circumstances. ~ Ed Gass Donnelly,
115:This is a book that respects kids and their ideas. And in that regard, it places Chasing Vermeer in the tradition of classic favorites fondly recalled from our own childhoods. ~ Elizabeth Taylor,
116:I work to loud music - hard-rock stuff like AC/DC, Guns 'n Roses, and Metallica have always been particular favorites - but for me the music is just another way of shutting the door. ~ Stephen King,
117:I love really kitschy bad movies. Showgirls is one of my favorites. I saw House of Versace and died. I'm a big fan of made-for-TV movies because those are instant classics, naturally. ~ Bonnie McKee,
118:INTO PARADISE MAY THE ANGELS LEAD YOU,’” he’d said over my mother’s grave; and so I say that one for him—I know it was one of his favorites. I am always saying prayers for Owen Meany. And ~ John Irving,
119:I grew up with the television product being old Western serials like Roy Rogers, and John Wayne and Gary Cooper, and many others were my favorites when I was a young person going to films. ~ Steve Kanaly,
120:Always, after he was in bed, there were voices - indefinite, fading, enchanting - just outside his window, and before he fell asleep he would dream one of his favorites waking dreams. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald,
121:poster of San Francisco. The image of the Golden Gate Bridge with Alcatraz off in the distance was one of her favorites. If she could visit one place in the world, that’s where she would go. ~ Marie Force,
122:I went through the whole number, you know. The swing era, the boogie woogie era, the bebop era. Thelonious Monk is still one of my favorites. So a lot of these people had their effect on me. ~ Mose Allison,
123:He listed The Lord of the Rings, Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series, and Robert Heinlein’s The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress as some of his favorites, alongside The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. ~ Ashlee Vance,
124:Pro and con lists—one of my previous favorites—are just as bad. If it’s important to you, and you want to do it eventually, just do it, and correct course along the way. Fortune favors the bold. ~ Rolf Potts,
125:We all think we have our personal favorites. But when I say, "People shouldn't steal - is it true?" Everyone in a room of, let's say, a thousand people all raise their hands and say, "That's true." ~ Byron Katie,
126:Olga sits on the carpet in front of her shelves with stacks of books scattered around her, struggling to pick between her old favorites. She's all bent over, like a puppet without a hand inside it. ~ Sarah Miller,
127:It is better to be early than too late in recognizing the passing of one era, the waning of old investment favorites and the advent of a new era affording new opportunities for the investor. ~ Thomas Rowe Price Jr,
128:Smitten as we are with the vision of social righteousness, a God indifferent to everything but adulation, and full of partiality for his individual favorites, lacks an essential element of largeness. ~ William James,
129:...the pleached bower,
Where honeysuckles ripened by the sun
Forbid the sun to enter, like favorites
Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it. ~ William Shakespeare,
130:My next project will be a Christian album, another one. I wrote the songs for the ones you're referring to, but I want to do some of my old gospel favorites. That's what my next album's going to be. ~ Charlie Daniels,
131:For the source of the short story is usually lyrical. And all writers speak from, and speak to, emotions eternally the same in all of us: love, pity, terror do not show favorites or leave any of us out. ~ Eudora Welty,
132:Do we get a bedtime story?" Otto asked cheekily. "Oh yes, of course. I think we'll have one of my favorites; it's called 'The Little Boy and the Tranquilizer Gun." Raven smiled in a rather unsettling way. ~ Mark Walden,
133:Fortune is said to be blind, but her favorites never are. Ambition has the eye of the eagle, prudence that of the lynx; the first looks through the air, the last along the ground. ~ Edward Bulwer Lytton 1st Baron Lytton,
134:We always play clubs. It's not something that I feel above. Those are my favorite shows because they're intimate, they're tight, their sweaty, they're hot. You're close to the people. Those are my favorites. ~ Joan Jett,
135:No special suits for game days. I like to keep all my favorites in the mix. I'm always trying to look my best, even when I'm just visiting a city for eight hours and then getting back on a plane again. ~ Henrik Lundqvist,
136:I am trying to come up with some "adult" reads, but I mostly read young adult fiction (my job), which, by the way is excellent. I will post about some of my favorites that should appeal to adult readers ~ Megan McCafferty,
137:I understood her. And I knew why she said it was a secret. Grandmothers aren’t supposed to have favorites. Everyone knows that. But after she died, I held on to that secret and let it cover me like a blanket. ~ R J Palacio,
138:We need to break boundaries, so every time I feel like, "Oh snap, oh my God, I don't know how this is gonna be received," I also feel this validation, like, "All the greats, all my favorites have felt this." ~ Jordan Peele,
139:I am starting to see a real trend in the kind of books Bill gives me to read. And just like the tape of songs, it is amazing to hold each of them in the palm of my hand. They are all my favorites. All of them. ~ Stephen Chbosky,
140:Le destin attend toujours au coin de la rue. Comme un voyou, une pute ou un vendeur de loterie : ses trois incarnations favorites. Mais il ne vient pas vous démarcher à domicile. Il faut aller à sa rencontre. ~ Carlos Ruiz Zaf n,
141:Second, never imagine that because the master loves you, you can do anything you want. Entire books could be written about favorites who fell out of favor by taking their status for granted, for daring to outshine. ~ Robert Greene,
142:Time plays no favorites and will pass whether you act or not. Take control of your life. Dare to dream and take risks...Compete! If you aren't willing to work for you goals, don't expect others to! Believe in yourself. ~ Anonymous,
143:I really love young Tom Hanks. He's just one of my favorites. He's a great, quirky every-man. I also love Zach Braff. I really love actors that are quirky and interesting, that sort of try to portray 'normal' people. ~ Jake Epstein,
144:I'm horrible at quoting movies! Even my very favorites are not easily recalled or programmed to memory. When people start movie quoting around me, I'm that person who just smiles and then looks up the reference later. ~ Ashley Rickards,
145:I have a huge span of fans, some who know all my radio songs and are familiar with my popular stuff and then some who have their own personal favorites. When I do my show, I try to take into consideration all those people. ~ Wiz Khalifa,
146:I love reading another reader’s list of favorites. Even when I find I do not share their tastes or predilections, I am provoked to compare, contrast, and contradict. It is a most healthy exercise, and one altogether fruitful. ~ T S Eliot,
147:When I venture out to eat, I like to go to places with food that I don't know how to make. So my favorites are Japanese and Indian. Indian food has so much layering of flavor, and the dishes go together so harmoniously. ~ Gwyneth Paltrow,
148:My mother marked the events of her life with recipes, dishes of her own invention or interpretations of old favorites. Food was her nostalgia, her celebration, its nurture and preparation the sole outlet for her creativity. ~ Joanne Harris,
149:The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.’” “Just checking your memory,” Cameron said, the slightest of smiles teasing at the corner of her mouth. “It’s one of my favorites,” Nathan admitted ~ Ryk Brown,
150:There was a lot of other young players around at that time when I was coming, but there was older people like Blind Lemon, which was one of my favorites. I don't know, just seemed like everybody I heard could play better than me. ~ B B King,
151:I wasn't a big science fiction aficionado, there were a few films like 2001 or Blade Runner that were favorites of mine, but since I started this series I have gained more respect for the genre and become more of a fan myself. ~ Joe Flanigan,
152:One of my favorites has always been 'Swap Meet.' One of the reasons why I like that is it's a song that's in a drop-D tuning, and of course, also being a guitar player, it's one of the songs that I really like the riff on it. ~ Chad Channing,
153:Death did not play favorites—He loved all equally.
What you cannot escape, you must fight; what you cannot fight, you must endure .
The god's voice—not quite words, just a thread of meaning laid in my receptive mind— ~ Lilith Saintcrow,
154:I love books where you can't get out of bed. You want to consume them in one sitting, devour them. Those are my favorites, where you've almost abandoned your life for them. That doesn't happen every time, but those are the best. ~ Rachel McAdams,
155:I would be lying if I said I cut out all dessert. When Im training, I try to satisfy those cravings with a slightly healthier dessert, like a piece of dark chocolate or whipped cream and strawberries. Those are two of my favorites! ~ Josie Loren,
156:I'm around a lot of good people who keep me grounded and don't let me get too high above my raisings. I have some good friends who don't talk about my job, and that's nice. Those are the friends who are my favorites. That helps a lot. ~ Clay Aiken,
157:Adventure books are my personal favorites. 'The Endurance,' a story about Ernest Shackleton's legendary Antarctica expedition, or 'Into Thin Air,' Jon Krakauer's personal account of the 1996 disaster on Mt Everest, are two notables. ~ Dean Karnazes,
158:One of my favorite authors, Garbrielle Zevin, she did a book called 'Elsewhere,' that is one of my favorites, and I think they're making that into a movie too. I really want to be in that one just because the story is so beautiful. ~ Isabelle Fuhrman,
159:All I know for certain is that reading is of the most intense importance to me; if I were not able to read, to revisit old favorites and experiment with names new to me, I would be starved - probably too starved to go on writing myself. ~ Penelope Lively,
160:I have found in the world of film many movies including Beyond Rangoon, The Crow, Gandhi, Doctor Zhivago, and The Big Blue, a French film, convey similar understandings. I'm sure the list is endless. These are just a few of my favorites. ~ Frederick Lenz,
161:The masters thought they were loved until one day one of their favorites farted loudly while serving dinner and the next day was gone. The very first manifestation of the classless society is the disappearance of the servant class. ~ John Kenneth Galbraith,
162:As a performing group, the Beatles began by playing old rock favorites, for dancing, to tough audiences in Liverpool and Hamburg. When they began writing seriously, they discovered that they couldn't compose in the early American rock tradition. ~ Jon Landau,
163:My favorites are Stevie Wonder and Marvin Gaye, but those are a little off in terms of getting Detroit right on the head. But of course, you know, "Dancing In The Streets." You can't forget the Motor City. And we can't forget the Motor City. ~ David Maraniss,
164:I love 'Somebody to Love' by Queen and of course 'Bohemian Rhapsody' is one of my favorites, just because it makes everyone in the room go crazy. Everyone tries to sing along with it, and half the room gets it right and the other half gets it wrong. ~ Faith Hill,
165:I love all holiday music. My two favorites would probably be Donny Hathaway's "This Christmas" and Nat King Cole's "The Christmas Song." They epitomize Christmas for me. Those two recordings will never be touched. That's why I've never redone them. ~ Mariah Carey,
166:It's like an emotional dance party: Some dances will be your favorites -- others more awkward or difficult to learn. Some will be boring or make you mad. some you will wish you never needed to do again. But AHA! You think. I will dance all the dances I can. ~ Sark,
167:I don't play favorites with people. My basic philosophy is that the only way to make the world a better place is by bringing something beautiful to every single person you run into at every moment of the day, so how can you play favorites with somebody? ~ John Zorn,
168:It's like an emotional dance party: Some dances will be your favorites -- others more awkward or difficult to learn. Some will be boring or make you mad. some you will wish you never needed to do again. But AHA! You think. I will dance all the dances I can. ~ S A R K,
169:Piper hadn’t seen V as described by Heather, but she’d seen another of Meyer’s favorites: a rather violent film called District 9. Those aliens had basically run out of intergalactic gas and parked their ship above Johannesburg. Maybe this was like that. ~ Sean Platt,
170:nine categories of value ideas: Graham-style deep value, Greenblatt-style magic formula, small-cap value, sum-of-the-parts or hidden value, superinvestor favorites, jockey stocks, special situations, equity stubs, and international value investments. ~ John Mihaljevic,
171:How about your favorite book?" "This Side of Paradise by From. Scott Fitzgerald." "Why?" "Because it was the last one I read." This made them laugh because they knew I meant it honest, not show-off. Then they told me their favorites, and we sat quiet. ~ Stephen Chbosky,
172:I would love to work with Quentin Tarantino - he's my number one. My ultimate. I would love to work with Paul Thomas Anderson, Alexander Payne - Pedro Almodovar wouldn't be too shabby. There are so many good directors, but those are some of my favorites. ~ Kirsten Dunst,
173:I have lots of favorites movies. I say this only because it's a favorite movie because it's a sport I love. I'm a huge baseball fan. There are movies I like as much as this, but I sort of single this movie out because I'm a baseball nut, and that's 'Field of Dreams.' ~ Rick Santorum,
174:If I was a kid and my favorite player has a good game, and if I tweet him after the game and he replies back or favorites my tweet, it's essentially like you just had a conversation with him. I couldn't imagine what that would do for me. To me it's the way it should go. ~ David Price,
175:How about your favorite book?"
"This Side of Paradise by From. Scott Fitzgerald."
"Because it was the last one I read."
This made them laugh because they knew I meant it honest, not show-off. Then they told me their favorites, and we sat quiet. ~ Stephen Chbosky,
176:Normally with any of the races, we go a bit early to get used to the time zone and acclimatize. We'll have a couple of days to see the places. My favorites so far are Montreal and Abu Dhabi. With Abu Dhabi, the facilities are excellent and the weather is always good. ~ Valtteri Bottas,
177:You are my everything. You understand me, Via? Tu es meu tudo.” I understood her. And I knew why she said it was a secret. Grandmothers aren’t supposed to have favorites. Everyone knows that. But after she died, I held on to that secret and let it cover me like a blanket. ~ R J Palacio,
178:There’s support for the idea—three of my favorites are that (a) forcing depressed people to smile makes them feel better; (b) instructing people to take on a more “dominant” posture makes them feel more so (lowers stress hormone levels); and (c) muscle relaxants decrease ~ Robert M Sapolsky,
179:This is one of my favorites. People think of creativity as this sort of unbridled thing, but engineers thrive on constraints. They love to think their way out of that little box: 'We know you said it was impossible, but we're going to do this, this, and that to get us there.' ~ Marissa Mayer,
180:Sebastian smiled lazily as he came to her. Taking her shoulders in his hands, he slid an appraising
glance along her half-clad body. “Don’t remove a single freckle, sweet. I found some in the most
enchanting places. I already have my favorites…shall I tell you where they are? ~ Lisa Kleypas,
181:in the last month or so, i have read the great gatsby and a separate peace. i am starting to see a real trend in the kind of books bill gives me to read. and just like the tape of songs, it is amazing to hold each of them in the palm of my hand. they are all my favorites. all of them. ~ Stephen Chbosky,
182:Todd Glass has amazing energy on stage. Dave Attell is one of my favorites because he's a one liner comic who is always incredibly in the moment with the audience. As for newer people, I think Adrienne Iapalucci writes some great, dark jokes and Sean Patton has a hilarious voice on stage. ~ Anthony Jeselnik,
183:Asshole," Ephraim muttered as he turned back around.
Chris chuckeled. "Is that really any way to talk to your favorite child?"
"You're not my favorite," Ephraim argued, but they both knew that was bullshit. "I don't have any favorites."
"Puhlease," Chris said. "You fucking adore me... ~ R L Mathewson,
184:I snatched up Ben’s universal remote, pointed it at the TV, and commenced fucking with all of his settings so it would take him at least an hour to sort that shit out. Done with that, I filled his Netflix favorites queue with programs that would make Homeland Security put him on a watch list. ~ Kristen Ashley,
185:I personally believe that the iPod is a frankly corrosive device because it encourages you to surround yourself with your favorites. The whole idea of a playlist is to surround yourself with your favorite things, and the interesting thing is that when you do that, they cease to be your favorites. ~ Hugh Laurie,
186:I prefer rock music—my favorites are R.E.M. and Matthew Sweet—but I think that if Dr. Buckley played Matthew Sweet, some of her patients would not like it. Matthew Sweet has a song called “Sick of Myself,” and I am pretty sure that is exactly the wrong song name for a therapist’s waiting room. ~ Craig Lancaster,
187:Like most lit nerds, I'm a voracious reader. I never got enough poetry under my belt growing up but I do read it - some of my favorites, Gina Franco and Angela Shaw and Cornelius Eady and Kevin Young, remind me daily that unless the words sing and dance, what's the use of putting them down on paper. ~ Junot Diaz,
188:Nook people can overstate their love for a movie, having only watched it once. They are alert to how some spectacles become basically unbearable the second time. And, well, there are benefits to claiming something you’ve only experienced once as your favorite. It’s useful to have many favorites. ~ Durga Chew Bose,
189:Mercer didn’t know, but Lost Illusions was one of his personal favorites. Basically, a young poet from the provinces comes to Paris to make his fortune and, in the fullness of time, discovers that he’s been wrong about everything. All the people he takes for geniuses are idiots, and vice versa. ~ Garth Risk Hallberg,
190:I loved that he was patient with me when I struggled at times to fight my demons and that he accepted me for how I was, not who he thought I should be. Of all the gifts that Gabe brought to my life, those were my two favorites. And somehow, someway, that beautiful soul was in love with me. “He’s ~ Aimee Nicole Walker,
191:The OED does include schadenfreude, a word borrowed from German, which means “to take pleasure in the misfortune of another.” But it left out one of my personal favorites, epicharicacy, which means the same thing as schadenfreude, and was in English dictionaries until the early nineteenth century. Misdevout ~ Ammon Shea,
192:Children with the growth mindset, on the other hand, couldn't tear themselves away from the hard problems. These were their favorites and these were the ones they wanted to take home. "Could you write down the name of these puzzles," one child asked, "so my mom can buy me some more when these ones run out? ~ Carol S Dweck,
193:Howard Thurman with my graduate students. It’s always been one of my favorites, but now that I’ve studied the importance of meaningful work, it’s taken on new significance: “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive. ~ Bren Brown,
194:William focused on her, opened his mouth, closed it. Seeing the weapon strapped to her back and peeking over her shoulder samurai-style, he frowned. “Nice sword,” he said dryly.
“It’s one of my favorites.”
“If you’re nice, I’ll give it back to you in a year or two.”
“You’re so good to me. ~ Gena Showalter,
195:If I could be there with you, I would. A father should be with his son at such times.” He swallowed audibly. “Lad,” he said softly, “Give my love to Drustan and Gwen, but know you carry the bulk of it with you.” Another pause. “I ken a da shouldn’t have favorites, but—och, Dageus, my son, you were always mine. ~ Karen Marie Moning,
196:It was Rowan who had coined the term "lettuce-kid" to describe them. Both of them were born sandwiched somewhere in the middle of large families, and where far from being their parents’ favorites. "I got a couple of brothers that are the meat, a few sisters that are cheese and tomatoes, is I guess I’m the lettuce ~ Neal Shusterman,
197:People often ask authors where their ideas come from, and often authors say they don't know. But I do know about this one. Once upon a time, my wife and I had three small children -- two boys and a girl, just like in the story. And when they were young, we used to tell them a story very like YOU'RE ALL MY FAVORITES. ~ Sam McBratney,
198:We were kind of never one of CBS favorites [with Threshold], even though we'd gotten really good reviews for the pilot. We were on at, what was it, 10 o'clock on a Friday night? That's kind of where you bury a show if you don't want it to last. But, wow, what a cast, huh? You could never get that cast together again. ~ Brent Spiner,
199:I don't like filmmakers to tell people how they should react to their movies. I absolutely have favorites, and I have others that I'm mortified by, but I keep that to myself. I think I've managed to find some very interesting things that I've been very satisfied with recently. I don't know if that's gonna keep going. ~ Christian Bale,
200:His favorites were the arm curl machine and the abdominal machine, where he would lift hard for long minutes and then fight a few last painful crunches.Not that I made a habit of standing there and staring at him as he worked out.That would be creepy.I watched him on the surveillance cameras behind the reception desk. ~ Jennifer Echols,
201:I have also heard and read various accounts of why they [Sheldon Leonard and Carl Reiner] liked me. My favorites? I wasn't too good-looking, I walked a little funny, and I was basically kind of average and ordinary. I guess my lack of perfection turned out to be a winning hand. Let that be a lesson for future generations. ~ Dick Van Dyke,
202:Listening to your tape, I was reminded of this poem. It has the central question: Is it harder to count on someone or to know that you're being the one counted upon? Anyway, there's this part that goes: if equal affection cannot be, then let the more loving one be me. Have you ever read that one? It's one of my favorites. ~ Janeane Garofalo,
203:She did what is the most dangerous thing anyone can do in politics; she discoursed without having the most remote acquaintance with the subject; she amateurishly thrust her fingers into every pie, interfering in matters of the utmost moment; she used her overwhelming influence with the King exclusively on behalf of her favorites. ~ Stefan Zweig,
204:Truth was one of the few public women of her day who did not pick favorites when it came to the claims of race and sex. “If colored men get their rights and not colored women theirs, you see the colored men will be masters over the women, and it will be just as bad as it was before,” she said. Not all black women agreed with her. ~ Gail Collins,
205:After eavesdropping for a while, I began to realize that all my life I’d been a hypocrite. As a journalist I’d always supported the right to free speech, but been opposed to guns. However, by playing favorites with the amendments, it wasn’t the founding fathers’ vision of America I was fighting for—it was just my personal opinion. ~ Neil Strauss,
206:Confirmation bias can cause bosses to make excessively glowing judgments about people they have invested a lot of time and money in or who they simply find to be likable or admirable. Even if your judgment is generally sound, confirmation bias can blind you to mediocre or even downright rotten performance displayed by your favorites. ~ Robert I Sutton,
207:I love KIND bars. My favorites are coconut and almond and the dark chocolate and sea salt because staying fueled helps keep me from getting sick or injured. Bananas have also made a great comeback in my life. My kids eat them all the time on the go, which has inspired my go-to pre-run morning meal of peanut butter and banana on toast. ~ Summer Sanders,
208:I actually loved to dress like a boy, and I still kind of do and try to sneak boy's pieces into my wardrobe. I have Levi's boot cut jeans that actually might be from the boy's department, but I love them. Those jeans and flannel are my favorites. If I could choose anything to wear for the rest of my life, I'd just want a boy's outfit. ~ Analeigh Tipton,
209:One of the scandalous things I did was as I read them afterward I would burn them. I loved them, but for practical reasons I had to lighten the load. I burned favorites, like William Faulkner's "As I Lay Dying." There's a whole list in the back of my book. It's me,[Adolf] Hitler, [Benito] Mussolini, and Pol Pot. We're the book burners. ~ Cheryl Strayed,
210:Consider rereading, how risky it is, especially when the book is one that you loved. Always the chance that it won't hold up, that you might, for whatever reason, not love it as much. When this happens, and to me it happens all the time (and more and more as I get older), the effect is so disheartening that I now open old favorites warily. ~ Sigrid Nunez,
211:Books were her salvation. As a child, she’d had a shelf of childhood favorites that she loved enough to read over and over again. But after, during the hospital stay and the long voyage and the cold days in Idlewild’s dreary hallways, books became more than mere stories. They were her lifeline, the pages as essential to her as breathing. ~ Simone St James,
212:I have two different categories of favorite films. One is the emotional favorites, which means these are generally films that I saw when I was a kid; anything you see in your formative years is more powerful, because it really stays with you forever. The second category is films that I saw while I was learning the craft of motion pictures. ~ John Carpenter,
213:Running cured almost anything. It eased pain; it exhilarated; it served as penance and validation. It turned lone wolf into a compliment. Running was objective – the stop-watch never lied. Races judged competitors on how long and hard they could run fast, not on a coach’s decision to play favorites with the starting lineup. Running was pure. ~ Meg Gardiner,
214:The major economic policy challenges facing the nation today - pick your favorites among the usual suspects of low public and household savings, concerns about educational quality and achievement, high and rising income inequality, the large imbalances between our social insurance commitments and resources - are not about monetary policy. ~ Timothy Geithner,
215:Every semester I share this quote by theologian Howard Thurman with my graduate students. It’s always been one of my favorites, but now that I’ve studied the importance of meaningful work, it’s taken on new significance: “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive. ~ Bren Brown,
216:He laughed, but his face was unreadable as he looked at her titles. “Ah, a collection from Sir Walter Scott. Very nice, I’ve always liked his poetry. Sense and Sensibility, but surely you have read this one.” She nodded after a moment. “Y-Yes. It is one of my favorites. I only rather liked this binding.” He held his gaze on her for a moment and then nodded. ~ Jess Michaels,
217:Futurist Faith Popcorn goes even further. By the year 2010, she predicts, 90 percent of all consumer products will be home-delivered. “They’ll put a refrigerator in your garage and bar code your kitchen. Every week they’ll restock your favorites, without your ever having to reorder. They’ll even pick up your dry cleaning, return your videotapes, whatever you need. ~ Al Ries,
218:I guess I'm not a very spiritual person. I don't think things always 'happen for a reason,' everything must be 'God's way,' or (and this is one of Karen's favorites) 'He only gives you what you can handle.' I simply believe, and I'm sorry to sound crude about it, that shit happens. Period.
Sometimes you are the pigeon.
Sometimes you are the statue. ~ Jessica Topper,
219:Madden sizes me up.
"Did you even ever get Christmas presents ...?"
"Yes. And Hanukkkah presents. And Kwanzaa. Three Kings Day. Also, Saint Lucia Day and Ramadan. It's important not to play favorites. You know ... you never know who could actually be running this thing ... probably important not to put all your eggs in one basket -"
"Stop. Stop talking. ~ Andrea Portes,
220:With my solo music, I really try to step out of the box and do stuff I don't get to do with the boys. I wanted it to be fun, rock-infused and try some new things while going back to my roots. "All American" the song is one of my favorites from the album, which is why I chose to title the album after it. To me, it's the perfect song to represent the feel of the album. ~ Nick Carter,
221:Meredith,” Taranis said, “how can you insult me like this? These men attacked a lady of my court, savaged her. Yet you stand there with them…touching you, as if they are your court favorites.” “But, uncle, they are some of my favorites.” “Meredith,” he said, and he sounded shocked, like an elderly relative who just heard you say “fuck” for the first time. Biggs ~ Laurell K Hamilton,
222:We don't need to have just one favorite. We keep adding favorites. Our favorite book is always the book that speaks most directly to us at a particular stage in our lives. And our lives change. We have other favorites that give us what we most need at that particular time. But we never lose the old favorites. They're always with us. We just sort of accumulate them. ~ Lloyd Alexander,
223:Another surprise, he said, was Shakespeare — apparently many more men than women teach it in English departments. Men are more likely to be described as a star, knowledgeable, awesome or the best professor. Women are more likely to be described as bossy, disorganized, helpful, annoying or as playing favorites. Nice or rude are also more often used to describe women than men. ~ Anonymous,
224:Do you grieve for your ships,” I asked, “because they’re dead? Or because their loss means they aren’t here to make you feel connected and cared about?” Silence. “Or do you think those are the same thing?” Still no answer. “I will answer my own question: you were never a favorite of any of the ships you served on. You don’t believe it’s possible for a ship to have favorites. ~ Ann Leckie,
225:By making book selections and sharing past favorites the first activity in which we engage as a class, I emphasize the prominence that reading will hold all year. I also reveal to students that I am knowledgeable about books and that I value their prior reading experiences and preferences. The book frenzy sets the tone for my class. Everyone reads every day, all year long. ~ Donalyn Miller,
226:Proper nutrition is one of the most fundamental things on which anyone’s healthy and happy life can be based.
If you want to radically change your being for the better, to feel satisfied about who you are, or to look slim and attractive no matter what age is stated in your passport, start with changing unhealthy eating habits to healthy ones —and make them your favorites. ~ Sahara Sanders,
227:We don’t need to have just one favorite. We keep adding favorites. Our favorite book is always the book that speaks most directly to us at a particular stage in our lives. And our lives change. We have other favorites that give us what we most need at that particular time. But we never lose the old favorites. They’re always with us. We just sort of accumulate them. —Lloyd Alexander ~ Donalyn Miller,
228:I am happy that we are not favorites. To be very honest it's big pressure of being favorites. We were not favorites last time (in 2011) too but we played excellent cricket. Similarly this time, there are teams which play on those bouncy wickets like Australia and South Africa, and are probably bigger favorites than us. But we hope that with the type of resources we have we can do well. ~ Waqar Younis,
229:The word immune (from the Latin immunis, in- + munia, services, obligations) is among my favorites in the English language, the possession of immunity—to illnesses, to follies, to love and loneliness and troubling thoughts and unalleviated pains—a trait that I have desired for my characters and myself, knowing all the while the futility of such a wish. Only the lifeless can be immune to life. ~ Yiyun Li,
230:But the truth is, I want to be some woman's work boots, not her high heels."
"Work boots?" What was sexy about that? And did women have work boots?
"Yeah. You know, the boots she pulls out when she wants to get down and dirty, hiking or gardening or boating or painting the kitchen. The ones she relies on and trusts and lives her life hard and good and on her terms in. Her favorites. ~ Erin McCarthy,
231:Mann and Joyce are very different, and yet their fiction often appeals to the same people: Harry Levin taught a famous course on Joyce, Proust, and Mann, and Joseph Campbell singled out Joyce and Mann as special favorites. To see them as offering "possibilities for living", as I do, isn't to identify any distinctive commonality. After all, many great authors would fall under that rubric. ~ Philip Kitcher,
232:God's favorites, especially God's favorites, are not immune from the bewildering times when God seems silent. Where there is no longer any opportunity for doubt, there is no longer any opportunity for faith either. Faith demands uncertainty, confusion. The Bible includes many proofs of God's concern - some quite spectacular - but no guarantess. A guarantee would, after all, preclude faith. ~ Paul Tournier,
233:We’re not very good at the niceties and the small talk that are required to be a good neighbor, so block parties and barbecues tend to be awkward. Our politics rarely jibe (we’re a couple of mouthy liberals living in the heart of red country), and we don’t give a shit about sports, especially college basketball and hypercompetitive soccer for young children, which are the favorites around here. ~ Jen Mann,
234:All Kings, and all their favorites, All glory of honors, beauties, wits, The sun itself, which makes times, as they pass, Is elder by a year, now, than it was When thou and I first one another saw: All other things, to their destruction draw, Only our love hath no decay; This, no tomorrow hash, nor yesterday, Running, it never runs from us away, But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day. ~ John Donne,
235:Mostly, though, I prefer to believe that God has no grace to give. Because the alternative is that He gives grace capriciously or, even worse, that He plays favorites. Some desolate valleys become places of springs, and others wither until they are sere beyond hope, and if God is the one who chooses which is which then I would rather live in a universe lucky enough to have escaped His notice. ~ Joel Derfner,
236:To kill the misconception, I don’t think the songs we wrote before ‘Danger Days’ are bad songs by any means. In fact, I kinda think some of them are among my favorites we have ever written. A lot of them are kinda f—ing rad… they just so happened to have been created in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and we as their parents were not ready to raise them just yet… and so they sat and waited. ~ Frank Iero,
237:Instead she wants to know every detail of the menu I have planned for her party, relishing everything in advance. She is brimming with suggestions. Brandade trufée, vol-au-vents aux trois champignons, cooked in wine and cream with wild chanterelles as a garnish, grilled langoustines with arugula salad, five different types of chocolate cake, all her favorites, homemade chocolate ice cream... ~ Joanne Harris,
238:All social inequities are linked. Comprehensive systemic change will happen only if we are aware of these connections and work to bring an end to all inequalities—not just our favorites or the ones that most directly affect our part of the universe. No one is on the sidelines; by our actions or inactions, by our caring or our indifference, we are either part of the problem or part of the solution. ~ A Breeze Harper,
239:There are at least five swear words I like better than fuck. My favorites are compound words like apeshit, craphat or batshit, but above all, my numero uno, all-time favorite swear word is assclown, without a doubt. Asshat runs a close second. I must say, very few things give me greater pleasure than calling someone an assclown when they really fit the bill. I love it more than puppies and baby seals. ~ Renee Carlino,
240:The Plains Indians decorated their moccasins with not less than three different colors of quills. Their favorites were yellow, red, green and purple.
Beaded moccasins had a larger range of colors, the average being four or five, and the preference was white, red, green, yellow and blue. The background color, almost exclusively, was white, although the Assiniboin tribe used blue for the background color. ~ W Ben Hunt,
241:The true gardener then brushes over the ground with slow and gentle hand, to liberate a space for breath round some favorites; but he is not thinking about destruction except incidentally. It is only the amateur like myself who becomes obsessed and rejoices with a sadistic pleasure in weeds that are big and bad enough to pull, and at last, almost forgetting the flowers altogether, turns into a Reformer. ~ Freya Stark,
242:Why do some persons 'find' God in a way that others do not? Why does God manifest His Presence to some and let multitudes of others struggle along in the half-light of imperfect Christian experience? Of course the will of God is the same for all. He has no favorites within His household. All He has ever done for any of His children He will do for all of His children. The difference lies not with God but with us. ~ A W Tozer,
243:We tried to educate ourselves. I would invite the girls to my rooms, and we took turns reading poetry in English to improve our understanding of the language. One of our favorites was Thomas Hood's "Song of the Shirt," and another . . . Percy Bysshe Shelley's "Mask of Anarchy." . . .
"Rise like lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number!
Which in sleep had fallen on you-
Ye are many, they are few! ~ Howard Zinn,
244:one of my favorites:
Robby gave her a skeptical look. "Ye're an angel of death. No offense, but I would call that a wee bit of harm."
"We're called Deliverers, actually. And we're not supposed to take someone before their time."
"How does that work?" Gregori lifted his camera, focusing on her. "I mean do you just go down a line, saying, 'Eenie meenie mynie moe, sorry, dude you gotta go'? ~ Kerrelyn Sparks,
245:Sex is hard to write about because you lose the universal and succumb to the particular. We all have our different favorites. Good sex is impossible to write about. Lawrence and Updike have given it their all, and the result is still uneasy and unsure. It may be that good sex is something fiction just can't do - like dreams. Most of the sex in my novels is absolutely disastrous. Sex can be funny, but not very sexy. ~ Martin Amis,
246:The people as a body cannot deliberate. Nevertheless, they will feel an irresistible impulse to act, and their resolutions will be dictated to them by their demagogues... and the violent men, who are the most forward to gratify those passions, will be their favorites. What is called the government of the people is in fact too often the arbitrary power of such men. Here, then, we have the faithful portrait of democracy. ~ Fisher Ames,
247:Ever since learning about neurotransmitters from David, she had imagined her brain as a water park, a maze of waterslides down which various chemicals were released. Charcoal and smoke and fresh-cut grass usually sent rivers of serotonin down the slides in Ada’s head, as she pictured them. But that night the scents only served to remind her of David’s absence. Warm summer evenings, he always said, were his favorites, too. ~ Liz Moore,
248:There’s support for the idea—three of my favorites are that (a) forcing depressed people to smile makes them feel better; (b) instructing people to take on a more “dominant” posture makes them feel more so (lowers stress hormone levels); and (c) muscle relaxants decrease anxiety (“Things are still awful, but if my muscles are so relaxed that I’m dribbling out of this chair, things must be improving”). Nonetheless, ~ Robert M Sapolsky,
249:Sex is hard to write about because you lose the universal and succumb to the particular. We all have our different favorites. Good sex is impossible to write about. Lawrence and Updike have given it their all, and the result is still uneasy and unsure. It may be that good sex is something fiction just can't do--like dreams. Most of the sex in my novels is absolutely disastrous. Sex can be funny, but not very sexy. ~ Martin Amis,
250:He just took her mouth again, spun her again--twice and toward the bed. She considered putting up a fight, for form's sake, but just wriggled back enough to scowl at him. "I'm working."
"Not yet, and you're mostly naked. Such a fine look on you, one of my favorites."
"Then why is that closet full of clothes?"
"Because being an understanding sort, I appreciate your insistence on being fully dressed in public. ~ J D Robb,
251:So peace is found only in trust, trust of the One who is in careful control of all the things that tend to rob you of your peace. He knows, he understands, he is in control of what appears to be chaos, he is never surprised, he is never confused, he never worries or loses a night’s sleep, he never walks off the job to take a rest, he never gets so busy with one thing that he neglects another, and he never plays favorites. ~ Paul David Tripp,
252:In my mind, there was nothing better than a cupcake with a funny little twist. I liked bold pairings of fresh ingredients slathered high with decadent, old-fashioned waves of icing- organic pear and chai tea cake topped with vanilla-ginger buttercream was one of my current favorites. But Lolly St. Clair had more classic taste, and so I'd made an array of delicately flavored Meyer lemon, vanilla, and mocha cupcakes for the benefit. ~ Meg Donohue,
253:Pearl Jam is a band I have a lot of respect for. Nirvana and Sonic Youth I feel the same way about. Mumford & Sons, My Morning Jacket, Wilco, Givers, and Foo Fighters are just some of my favorites. I respect bands that give me something of themselves that I can feel. ("Posing" bands turn me off generally speaking.) It all has to do with a feeling I have about them. That is what music is to me, a feeling. It's similar with people too. ~ Neil Young,
254:I have a brand new favorite for a Disney animated feature coming out next Christmas called The Princess and the Frog. I'm Ray the singing Cajun firefly. New Orleans is my second hometown. I was a deckhand on a riverboat there when I was 18, so I have that Cajun accent down pat. Ray is a lovesick firefly who's near-sighted and falls in love with the Evening Star. Of course, Winnie the Pooh and Tigger will always be favorites of mine too. ~ Jim Cummings,
255:I truly believe we all have a sleeping giant within us. Each of us has a talent, a gift, our own bit of genius just waiting to be tapped. It might be a talent for art or music... a special way of relating to the ones you love. It might be a genius for selling or innovating.... I choose to believe that our Creator doesn't play favorites, that we've all been created unique, but with equal opportunities for experiencing life to the fullest. ~ Tony Robbins,
256:The road by the river had been one of my favorites. I could walk at the same speed as the river. I could feel it breathing. It was alive. More than anything, it was the river we had thank for creating the town. For grinding down from the hills over how many hundreds of thousands of years, for hauling the dirt, filling the sea, and making the tree grow. The town belonged to the river from the very beginning, and it would always be the way ~ Haruki Murakami,
257:I’d known Nick was built. His family had a membership at my parents’ health club, and sometimes he came in to lift weights. His favorites were the arm curl machine and the abdominal machine, where he would lift hard for long minutes and then fight for a few last painful crunches. Not that I made a habit of standing there and staring at him as he worked out. That would be creepy. I watched him on the surveillance camera behind the reception desk. ~ Jennifer Echols,
258:Those bands, you plan your life around them. You plan vacations around concert dates. You save babysitting money for records. You live for those days when Creem magazine arrives in your dusty mailbox and you frantically flip through it for any information on your favorites. The bands, the musicians that you love, they love you back. And when they quit, when they fall apart, when they die—they ruin that future you thought they’d always be a part of. ~ Karina Halle,
259:The Bowery b'hoys were delighted ... to observe a pair of their favorites in league against their natural enemy, for Clancey detests our democracy, finds even the Whigs radical, the Adams family vulgar, Daniel Webster a sans-culotte. He fills the pages of his magazine America with libellous comments on all things American. Despite a rich wife and five children, he is a compulsive sodomite, forever preying on country boys new to the city. ~ Gore Vidal,
260:of her favorites was John Masefield’s “Sea Fever”: . . . all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying. Kya recalled a poem written by a lesser-known poet, Amanda Hamilton, published recently in the local newspaper she’d bought at the Piggly Wiggly: Trapped inside, Love is a caged beast, Eating its own flesh. Love must be free to wander, To land upon its chosen shore And breathe. ~ Delia Owens,
261:The Higgs has nothing whatsoever to do with God. It’s just a really important particle, one that’s worth getting excited about, even if that excitement doesn’t quite rise to the level of religious ecstasy. It’s worth understanding why physicists might be tempted to bestow godlike status on this humble elementary particle, even if it’s actually free of any theological implications whatsoever. (Does anyone really think God plays favorites among the particles?) ~ Anonymous,
262:People in those days didn’t display affection like they do today. I’m still learning how to be affectionate to my grandchildren. I don’t ever remember getting a kiss from my mother. I never even saw her kiss my kid brother, or my kid sister, Margaret. Not that anyone meant to play favorites, but Tom was my father’s favorite and Peggy was my mother’s. I guess I was so big, and being the oldest, they expected me to be more grown up than the two younger ones. ~ Charles Brandt,
263:You only play Pistol Annies when you're pissed, usually at me. I know your fake laugh from your real one. You have a great laugh, by the way. I know which shirts are your favorites, because they're the first ones you wear after you've done your laundry. You lick your bottom lip when you're trying to concentrate on your textbook reading. You cry during those commercials with the absurd animals when you think no one is looking. No, I don't know you at all. ~ Chelsea M Cameron,
264:Solomon, who was one of the Deity's favorites, had a copulation cabinet composed of seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines. To save his life he could not have kept two of these young creatures satisfactorily refreshed, even if he had fifteen experts to help him. Necessarily almost the entire thousand had to go hungry for years and years on a stretch. Conceive of a man hardhearted enough to look daily upon all that suffering and not be moved to mitigate it. ~ Mark Twain,
265:Christian, let God's distinguishing love to you be a motive to you to fear Him greatly. He has put His fear in your heart, and may not have given that blessing to your neighbor, perhaps not to your husband, your wife, your child, or your parent. Oh, what an obligation should this thought lay upon your heart to greatly fear the Lord! Remember also that this fear of the Lord is His treasure, a choice jewel, given only to favorites, and to those who are greatly beloved. ~ John Bunyan,
266:I go back into the kitchen. There are mendiants cooling on a sheet of greaseproof paper; little discs of chocolate, scattered with pieces of crystallized fruit; chopped almonds and pistachios; dried rose petals and gold leaf. Mendiants were always my favorites; so simple to make that even a child- even Anouk at five years old- was able to make them unsupervised. A sour cherry for the nose; a lemon slice for the mouth. Even her mendiants were smiling. ~ Joanne Harris,
267:I go to the shelf and pick out a few poetry books to take with me. A few old favorites and a few I haven't gotten to yet. As I slip the books into my carry-on, it occurs to me that there really are a lot of poems about death, that I've always read many poems about dying, but had almost never noticed them before. They were always the ones I lightly skimmed, and I thought that maybe I could start reading these poems more carefully. It was almost nothing, but it was also a decision about my life. ~ Jacob Wren,
268:I always see to the dogs first and leave the cats and the occasional birds and rabbits and hamsters for later. It isn't that I play favorites, it's just that dogs are needier than other pets. Leave a dog alone for very long and it'll start going a little nuts. Cats, on the other hand, try to give you the impression that they didn't even notice you were gone. "Oh, were you out?" they'll say, "I didn't notice." Then they'll raise their tails to show you their little puckered anuses and walk away. ~ Blaize Clement,
269:To celebrate when I finally landed my fantasy job, William surprised me by preparing- all by himself- a feast of my favorite French foods: escargots with garlic butter and a splash of cognac; langoustines (flown-in overnight from Brittany), sautéed in their shells with butter and garlic and a hint of malagache curry; potatoes daphinoise (a little overpowering with the langoustines, I know, but I was going after my favorites); and haricots verts sautéed in shallots, all paired with a vintage Dom Perignon. ~ Jenny Gardiner,
270:The secret of success in society is a certain heartiness and sympathy. A man who is not happy in company, cannot find any word in his memory that will fit the occasion; all his information is a little impertinent. A man who is happy there, finds in every turn of the conversation occasions for the introduction of what he has to say. The favorites of society are able men, and of more spirit than wit, who have no uncomfortable egotism, but who exactly fill the hour and the company, contended and contenting. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson,
271:Man, I have absolutely zero ability into narrowing absolutely any of my favorites into just one, but I have to say, I gotta go between Undertaker and Triple H. Other than all the obvious reasons, but the biggest one for me, those are the only two guys, I could make a mistake and it would be okay. I could put the trust of the match, the story, and absolutely everything into their hands and let go of my control. I'm a control freak (laughs). Those are the only two guys I can let drive and take my hands off the steering wheel. ~ Shawn Michaels,
272:I am unfamiliar with this musical selection, Justin. What are we listening to?”
“This? It’s ‘Shine.’ David Gray. I love his stuff, and this is one of my favorites. I guess it’s kind of a sad song, but it’s hopeful, too. I think he’s saying that love is complicated, that life is complicated. There are hard paths we go down, but there can be determination to survive and thrive in the face of adversity. We make choices. I don’t know… That’s the thing about music. You get to make it mean whatever you need it to mean. ~ Jessica Park,
273:Sir Walter Raleigh was one of the most brilliant men at the court of Queen Elizabeth of England. He had skills as a scientist, wrote poetry still recognized as among the most beautiful writing of the time, was a proven leader of men, an enterprising entrepreneur, a great sea captain, and on top of all this was a handsome, dashing courtier who charmed his way into becoming one of the queen's favorites....
In the end, the reason he was executed was treason, but envy will use any cover it finds to mask its destructiveness. ~ Robert Greene,
274:Now, it may surprise you to learn that in His efforts to get permanent possession of a soul, [God] relies on the troughs even more than on the peaks; some of His special favorites have gone through longer and deeper troughs than anyone else... It is during such trough periods, much more than during the peak periods, that it is growing into the sort of creature He wants it to be... He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there He is pleased even with their stumbles. ~ C S Lewis,
275:The dessert is a chocolate fondue. Make it on a clear day- cloudy weather dims the gloss on the melted chocolate- with seventy percent dark chocolate, butter, a little almond oil, double cream added at the very last minute, heated gently over a burner. Skewer pieces of cake or fruit and dip into the chocolate mixture. I have all their favorites here tonight, though only the gâteau de savoie is meant for dipping. Caro claims she cannot eat another thing, but takes two slices of the dark-and-white chocolate roulade bicolore. ~ Joanne Harris,
276:Perched up on salvaged bricks, the half-pipes made perfect planters with an industrial edge that oddly complemented Sugar's pretty favorites: pansies, lantana, verbena and heliotrope.
She laid two of them by the long wall of the taller building next door and planted a clematis vine at one end and a moonflower vine at the other: the clematis because the variety she picked had the prettiest purple bloom and the moonflower because it opened in the early evening and emanated a heavenly scent just when a person most felt like smelling one. ~ Sarah Kate Lynch,
277:Anouk reads a book of nursery rhymes behind the counter and keeps an eye on the door as I prepare a batch of mendiants- thus named because they were sold by beggars and gypsies years ago- in the kitchen. These are my own favorites- biscuit-sized discs of dark, milk, or white chocolate upon which have been scattered lemon-rind, almonds, and plump Malaga raisins. Anouk likes the white ones, though I prefer the dark, made with the finest seventy-percent couverture.... Bitter-smooth on the tongue with the taste of the secret tropics. ~ Joanne Harris,
The Soul's Superior Instants
The Soul's Superior instants
Occur to Her—alone—
When friend—and Earth's occasion
Have infinite withdrawn—
To too remote a Height
For lower Recognition
Than Her Omnipotent—
This Mortal Abolition
Is seldom—but as fair
To Autocratic Air—
To favorites—a few—
Of the Colossal substance
~ Emily Dickinson,
279:Shortly after Scotty’s decision in favor of Steve, Raskin quit in a huff. But before he left he fired off a memo to his bosses that still stands as an angry summary of Steve’s weaknesses. “While Mr. Jobs’s stated positions on management techniques are all quite noble and worthy, in practice he is a dreadful manager.… He is a prime example of a manager who takes the credit for his optimistic schedules and then blames the workers when deadlines are not met,” he wrote, adding that Steve “misses appointments … does not give credit … has favorites … and doesn’t keep promises. ~ Brent Schlender,
280:Love is reckless; not reason. Reason seeks a profit. Loves comes on strong, consuming herself unabashed. Yet in the midst of suffering love proceeds like a millstone, hard surfaced and straight forward. Having died to self interest, she risks everything and asks for nothing. Love gambles away every gift God bestows. Without cause God gave us Being; without cause give it back again. Gambling yourself away is beyond any religion. Religion seeks grace and favor, but those who gamble these away are God's favorites, for they neither put God to the test nor knock at the door of gain and loss. ~ Rumi,
281:Instead of expensive fish eggs and stinky cheeses, Jay had packed Doritos and chicken soft tacos—Violet’s favorites. And instead of grapes, he brought Oreos.
He knew her way too well.
Violet grinned as he pulled out two clear plastic cups and a bottle of sparkling cider. She giggled. “What? No champagne?”
He shrugged, pouring a little of the bubbling apple juice into each of the flimsy cups. “I sorta thought that a DUI might ruin the mood.” He lifted his cup and clinked—or rather tapped—it against hers. “Cheers.” He watched her closely as she took a sip. ~ Kimberly Derting,
282:Molech, he had wormed his way right into the heart of Israel even with his so-called detestable practice. Ha. Several kings of both Judah and Israel certainly enjoyed his “detestable practice,” without complaint. Ahaz and Manasseh were his favorites. They made their own sons to pass through the fire. Manasseh, one of the longest reigning kings of Judah, had been so effectively won over to Molech that the Jews were exiled to Babylon as a punishment for his misdeeds. Because of that exile, they had lost their Book of the Covenant that had contained the very words and instructions of Yahweh. ~ Brian Godawa,
283:You’re beautiful, Evie,” came his soft comment. Having been raised by relations who had always lamented the garish color of her hair and the proliferation of freckles, Evie gave him a skeptical smile. “Aunt Florence has always given me a bleaching lotion to make my freckles vanish. But there’s no getting rid of them.” Sebastian smiled lazily as he came to her. Taking her shoulders in his hands, he slid an appraising glance along her half-clad body. “Don’t remove a single freckle, sweet. I found some in the most enchanting places. I already have my favorites…shall I tell you where they are? ~ Lisa Kleypas,
284:Quick Ben, tell me, who was the toughest Bridgeburner you ever knew? Think back, and think carefully. Get your ego out of the way. Ignore your favorites and the ones who spent all their time looking mean. Not the callous shits, not the back-stabbers, none of the posers. The toughest, Quick Ben. Day in, day out, good times, bad. Tell me. Who?"
The High Mage squinted, glanced down at the ground at this feet, and then he sighed and nodded, looking up as he said, "I didn't need that list, Ganoes. I knew my answer right from the start. We all knew."
"Fiddler. There's no tougher man alive. ~ Steven Erikson,
285:But Zozie was already making plans- seemingly unaware of the impact of that casual word- plans for a line of handmade truffles, the simplest of all chocolates to make; and then, perhaps some mendiants- my own favorites- sprinkled with almonds, sour cherries, and fat yellow sultanas.
I could do it with my eyes closed. Even a child can make mendiants, and Anouk had often helped me in the days of Lansquenet, selecting the plumpest raisins, the sweetest cranberries (always keeping a generous portion aside for herself), and arranging them on the discs of melted chocolate, dark or light, in careful designs. ~ Joanne Harris,
286:When we look closely, not only at what Jesus taught but at how he went about disseminating his message, time and again we find that what he was preaching was the gospel of a partnership society. He rejected the dogma that high-ranking men - in Jesus' day, priests, nobles, rich men, and kings - are the favorites of God. He mingled freely with women, thus openly rejecting the male-supremacist norms of his time. And in sharp contrast to the views of later Christian sages, who actually debated whether woman has an immortal soul, Jesus did not preach the ultimate dominator message: that women are spiritually inferior to men. ~ Riane Eisler,
287:Suddenly, all I can think about are all the things I don't know about him. All the things I never had time to learn. I don't know if his feet are ticklish or how long his toes are. I don't know what nightmares he had as a child. I don't know which stars are his favorites, what shapes he sees in the clouds. I don't know what he is truly afraid of or what memories he holds closest.
And I don't have enough time now, never enough time. I want to be in the moment with him, feel his body against mine and think of nothing else, but my mind explodes with grief for all that I am missing. All that I will miss. All that I have wasted. ~ Carrie Ryan,
288:The era of garage biology is upon us. Want to participate? Take a moment to buy yourself a molecular biology lab on eBay. A mere $1,000 will get you a set of precision pipettors for handling liquids and an electrophoresis rig for analyzing DNA. Side trips to sites like BestUse and LabX (two of my favorites) may be required to round out your purchases with graduated cylinders or a PCR thermocycler for amplifying DNA. If you can’t afford a particular gizmo, just wait six months—the supply of used laboratory gear only gets better with time. Links to sought-after reagents and protocols can be found at DNAHack. And, of course, Google is no end of help. ~ Peter H Diamandis,
289:Right now,” she said smiling. “But remember one thing. Leave the girls alone. I don’t mean you shouldn’t fool around once in a while when you feel like. But don’t play any favorites. I don’t want any arguments among my girls.” “Yeah,” I said, “I understand.” She came close to me. “You do your job and mind your own business, and they’ll never find you here.” “That’s what I was thinking,” I said. “You got a job,” she said, and went over to the cabinet and poured herself another drink. After she swallowed it she looked at me again. “What’s your name?” she asked. “Frankie,” I said, “Frank Kane. What’s yours?” “Just call me Grandma,” she said, and tossed off the drink. ~ Harold Robbins,
290:By the way-" Jim stopped her "-I spoke with Mary and set her straight about who was seduced by whom a few weeks ago."
Lauren sighed defeatedly. "I wish you hadn't..."
"Be damned glad I did. Mary worked for Nick's grandfather, and she's known Nick since he was a baby.She's fiercely loyal to him. She's also a staunch moralist with a particular dislike for aggressive young women who pursue Nick. She'd have made your life a living hell."
"If she's such a staunch moralist," Lauren said mutinously, "I can't imagine how she can possibly work for Nick."
Jim winked. "Nick and I are great favorites of hers.She's convinced that the two of us aren't beyond redemption. ~ Judith McNaught,
291:Stop this. You're amusing yourself at my expense, as usual. You are a dissipated scoundrel, an unprincipled cad, and-"
"Don't forget 'lecherous libertine,'" he said. "That's one of my favorites."
He pushed away lazily from the dressing table. "All right. I'll go. Obviously you fear that if I stay, you won't be able to control your desire for me."
"The only desire I have for you," she said, "involves maiming and dismemberment."
Leo grinned and went to the door. Pausing at the threshold, he glanced over his shoulder. "Your spectacles are fogging again," he said helpfully, and slipped through the door before she could find something to throw. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
292:There is a class whose value I should designate as Favorites: such as Froissart's Chronicles; Southey's Chronicle of the Cid ; Cervantes ; Sully's Memoirs ; Rabelais ; Montaigne ; Izaak Walton; Evelyn; Sir Thomas Browne; Aubrey ; Sterne ; Horace Walpole ; Lord Clarendon ; Doctor Johnson ; Burke, shedding floods of light on his times ; Lamb; Landor ; and De Quincey ;- a list, of course, that may easily be swelled, as dependent on individual caprice. Many men are as tender and irritable as lovers in reference to these predilections. Indeed, a man's library is a sort of harem, and I observe that tender readers have a great pudency in showing their books to a stranger. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson,
293:Fire had come to know more about the insignificant habits and tastes of Lord Mydogg, Lord Gentian, Murgda, Gunner, all their households and all their guests than any person could care to know. She knew Gentian was ambitious but also slightly featherbrained at times and had a delicate stomach, ate no rich foods, and drank only water. She knew his son Gunner was cleverer than his father, a reputable soldier, a bit of an ascetic when it came to wine and women. Mydogg was the opposite, denied himself no pleasure, was lavish with his favorites and stingy with everyone else. Murgda was stingy with everyone including herself, and was said to be exceedingly fond of bread pudding. ~ Kristin Cashore,
294:You like all animals at that moment, although no doubt you will one day choose your favorites. Your own nature will triumph. We are all born with our natures. You popped out of your mother’s belly, I saw your eyes, and I knew that you were already you. And I think back over my own life and I realize that my own nature--the core me--essentially hasn’t changed over all these years. When I wake up in the morning, for those first few moments before I remember where I am or when I am, I still feel the same way I did when I woke up at the age of five. Sometimes I wonder if natures can be changed at all of if we are stuck with them as surely as a dog wants bones or as a cat chases mice. ~ Douglas Coupland,
295:Do you want some help?" said Anouk, watching me bring out the big glass jars of raisins and cherries and sprinkles and nuts to decorate the mendiants.
I smiled. "Of course. My favorites."
It has been a long time since Anouk wanted to help me make chocolates. Now she does, as a child might play with her favorite toys for one last time before putting them aside for ever. Almonds, candied lemon peel, fat black cherries, green cardamom, and a sprinkle of edible gold to highlight the rich dark chocolate. Once sold by travelers door-to-door, these are kings and queens of the road, gilded, glossy and glorious.
"I made mine into faces," she said.
I smiled at her. "You always did. ~ Joanne Harris,
296:I love Auggie very, very much,” she said softly. I can still remember her Portuguese accent, the way she rolled her r’s. “But he has many angels looking out for him already, Via. And I want you to know that you have me looking out for you. Okay, menina querida? I want you to know that you are number one for me. You are my ...” She looked out at the ocean and spread her hands out, like she was trying to smooth out the waves, “You are my everything. You understand me, Via? Tu es meu tudo.”
I understood her. And I knew why she said it was a secret. Grandmothers aren’t supposed to have favorites. Everyone knows that. But after she died, I held on to that secret and let it cover me like a blanket. ~ R J Palacio,
297:The warden always seems to know which book to bring. When the sun is gunslinger blue, the warden brings a western. When rain slates against the towers and the world has gone hopeless with gray, it is Bible stories. When the halls ring with the cries of riot and the bars of my own cell rattle with pain, the warden drops a soft book on the floor, solace in its pages: the collected poems of Walt Whitman. And oh, my favorites, like the tastes of childhood. Every few months the warden passes me The White Dawn, and for a few precious days I traverse the open heavens on hard-packed moonlit snow and see the blue splashing arctic lights, and I fill my belly with frozen seal meat and laugh with my Inuit friends. ~ Rene Denfeld,
298:So peace is found only in trust, trust of the One who is in careful control of all the things that tend to rob you of your peace. He knows, he understands, he is in control of what appears to be chaos, he is never surprised, he is never confused, he never worries or loses a night’s sleep, he never walks off the job to take a rest, he never gets so busy with one thing that he neglects another, and he never plays favorites. You need to remind yourself again and again of his wise and loving control, not because that will immediately make your life make sense, but because it will give you rest and peace in those moments that all of us face at one time or another—when life doesn’t seem to make any sense. ~ Paul David Tripp,
299:The physiology of binge eating was explained in Chapter 4. But it’s important to reiterate the bottom line: when you eat or drink something that you’re allergic to, you tend to binge on it because allergens promote addictive stress hormones, including histamine. So you may believe that high-histamine foods and beverages are your “favorites” just because you binge on them. Bingeing and enjoying are two entirely different processes, however: With bingeing, there’s an urgency to shovel as much as you can into your mouth. There’s a feeling that you can’t get enough, or that someone might take the food or beverage away from you. In enjoying a meal, in contrast, you take your time and savor each bite or swallow. ~ Doreen Virtue,
300:Before that, before it was ever a hotel at all, five full centuries ago, it was the home of a wealthy privateer who gave up raiding ships to study bees in the pastures outside Saint-Malo, scribbling in notebooks and eating honey straight from combs. The crests above the door lintels still have bumblebees carved into the oak; the ivy-covered fountain in the courtyard is shaped like a hive. Werner’s favorites are five faded frescoes on the ceilings of the grandest upper rooms, where bees as big as children float against blue backdrops, big lazy drones and workers with diaphanous wings—where, above a hexagonal bathtub, a single nine-foot-long queen, with multiple eyes and a golden-furred abdomen, curls across the ceiling. ~ Anthony Doerr,
301:Beckett finally allowed himself to turn to her, to see what they saw. He had to smile. She was sheer sex and sin. The boots were old favorites with high, steel heels. And as predicted, her pants were orgasmically tight. She had a corset on, goddamn it, and her tits were so distracting it was obscene. Across her chest hung rounds of ammo like she’d just won the beauty pageant of death, and a leather jacket topped the whole fucking thing off. Well, that and the impressive automatic weapon slung over her shoulder. She pulled her favorite knife from where it was strapped to her thigh next to another. She twirled her hair into a bun and slid the knife into it, meeting his gaze when it was set. Eve was magnificent. Every damn time. ~ Debra Anastasia,
302:Ten-to-one odds Callum has either Sore or Lance on Bryn-duty tonight,” I said, changing the subject with an unspoken apology for bringing up the previous one at all. “You Macalisters seem to be Team Bryn favorites at the moment.”
Devon’s lips settled into an easy, practiced smirk, and the nearly imperceptible tension in his neck and shoulder muscles receded. “If there’s any justice in this world, watching you should convince them how lucky they’ve been to be blessed with a son such as myself.”
“He says with patented Smirk Number Three.”
Devon shook his head and made a sound somewhere in the neighborhood of tsk-tsk. “You’re getting rusty, Bronwyn. That was clearly Smirk Number Two: sardonic with a side of wit. ~ Jennifer Lynn Barnes,
303:Ah, the Hand of Glory!” said Mr. Borgin, abandoning Mr. Malfoy’s list and scurrying over to Draco. “Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir.” “I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin,” said Mr. Malfoy coldly, and Mr. Borgin said quickly, “No offense, sir, no offense meant —” “Though if his grades don’t pick up,” said Mr. Malfoy, more coldly still, “that may indeed be all he is fit for —” “It’s not my fault,” retorted Draco. “The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger —” “I would have thought you’d be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam,” snapped Mr. Malfoy. “Ha!” said Harry under his breath, pleased to see Draco looking both abashed and angry. ~ J K Rowling,
304:The two of them had fallen into the habit of bartering knowledge whenever she visited. He schooled her in jazz, in bebop and exotic bossa nova, playing his favorites for her while he painted- Slim Gaillard, Rita Reys, King Pleasure, and Jimmy Giuffre- stabbing the air with his brush when there was a particular passage he wanted her to note. In turn, she showed him the latest additions to her birding diary- her sketches of the short-eared owl and American wigeon, the cedar waxwing and late warblers. She explained how the innocent-looking loggerhead shrike killed its prey by biting it in the back of the neck, severing the spinal cord before impaling the victim on thorns or barbed wire and tearing it apart.
"Good grief," he'd said, shuddering. "I'm in the clutches of an avian Vincent Price. ~ Tracy Guzeman,
305:The great flaw of all these administrative techniques is that, in the name of equality and democracy, they function as a vast "antipolitics machine", sweeping vast realms of legitimate public debate out of the public sphere and into the arms of technical, administrative committees. They stand in the way of potentially bracing and instructive debates about social policy, the meaning of intelligence, the selection of elites, the value of equity and diversity, and the purpose of economic growth and development. They are, in short, the means by which technical and administrative elites attempt to convince a skeptical public--while excluding the public from debate--that they play no favorites, take no obscure discretionary action, and have no biases but are merely taking transparent technical calculations. ~ James C Scott,
306:My father and I used to watch a ton of old horror movies when I was growing up. ’The Creature from the Black Lagoon‘ was one of my father’s favorites and he was very excited for me to see the film. But after the movie was over, I told him that I was kind of bored. I said to him, ‘I’m sorry, Daddy, but I saw the zipper in the back of the monster’s costume. From that point on, I was really never scared at all. The point I’m trying to make is that I don’t believe someone intentionally tipped off the target. And I maintain that no one made some horrendous mistake, which I’m now trying to cover up. I believe what really happened with the operation was that our target ended up seeing the zipper. Orlo Kharms realized something around him wasn’t… real. And he was able to avoid the trap we had laid out for him. ~ Richard Finney,
307:I tried to lose myself in books. Our house is packed with them, and we keep adding more. Like my mother, I love mystery novels and can plow through one in a single sitting. Some of my recent favorites are by Louise Penny, Jacqueline Winspear, Donna Leon, and Charles Todd. I finished reading Elena Ferrante’s four Neapolitan novels and relished the story they tell about friendship among women. Our shelves are weighed down with volumes about history and politics, especially biographies of Presidents, but in those first few months, they held no interest for me whatsoever. I went back to things that have given me joy or solace in the past, such as Maya Angelou’s poetry: You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. . . . ~ Hillary Rodham Clinton,
308:Above all else, he loves trilogies. There has never been a trilogy he didn't like, and if you don't understand why, I have three words for you: father, son, and Holy Spirit. Foremost among his favorites is the original Star Wars trilogy, which he fervently believes is about priests in space, and the first three Alien films, which he believes are about how all women are destined to be mothers. Currently he is obsessed with the Transformers movies, because the greatest Transformer of all . . . is Jesus Christ. He even sat me down one day to have a serious discussion about "moral choices the Transformers are forced to make." At no point did I interrupt him to say, "But Dad, they're cars." This means I am becoming an adult. Because truly, the Transformers are more than cars. Some of them are trucks. ~ Patricia Lockwood,
309:I look into the chocolaterie. It looks warm in there, almost intimate. Candles are burning on the tables; the Advent window is lit with a rose glow. It smells of orange and clove from the pomander hanging above the door; of pine from the tree; of the mulled wine that we are serving alongside our spiced hot chocolate; and of fresh gingerbread straight out of the oven. It draws them in- three or four at a time- regulars and strangers and tourists alike. They stop at the window, catch the scent, and in they come, looking a little dazed, perhaps, at the many scents and colors and all their favorites in their little glass boxes- bitter orange cracknel; mendiants du roi; hot chili squares; peach brandy truffle; white chocolate angel; lavender brittle- all whispering inaudibly-
Try me. Taste me. Test me. ~ Joanne Harris,
310:Markets can govern behavior through the use of mechanism design and various incentives—not money alone, but the trifecta of human motivations that may be summarized as fun, fame, and fortune. In fact, on many platforms, money is far less important than the more intangible, subjective form of value known as social currency. The idea behind social currency is to give something in order to get something. If you give fun in a photo, you can get people to share it. Social currency, measured as the economic value of a relationship, includes favorites and shares.39 It also includes the reputation a person builds up for good interactions on eBay, good news posts on Reddit, or good answers on Stack Overflow. It includes the number of followers a user attracts on Twitter and the number of skill endorsements she garners on LinkedIn. ~ Geoffrey G Parker,
311:I was also one of those people who hadn’t caught up with the latest social networking site. Maura belonged to most of them. She passed most evenings befriending men who had tried to date-rape her in high school, but I was still stuck in the last virtual community, a sad place to be, like Europe, say, during the Black Death. Whenever I cruised this site, with its favorites lists and its paeans to somebody’s cousin’s gas station art gallery, I could not help but think of medieval corpses in the spring-thaw mud, buboes sprouted in every armpit and anus, black bile curling out of frozen mouths. Those of us still cursed with life wandered the blasted dales of this stricken network, wept and moaned and flogged ourselves with frayed AC adaptors, called out for God to strike us dead, or else let us find somebody who liked similar bands. ~ Sam Lipsyte,
312:You're beautiful, Evie," came his soft comment.
Having been raised by relations who had always lamented the garish color of her hair and the proliferation of freckles, Evie gave him a skeptical smile. "Aunt Florence has always given me a bleaching lotion to make my freckles vanish. But there's no getting rid of them."
Sebastian smiled lazily as he came to her. Taking her shoulders in his hands, he slid an appraising glance along her half-clad body. "Don't remove a single freckle, sweet. I found some in the most enchanting places. I already have my favorites... shall I tell you where they are?"
Disarmed and discomfited, Evie shook her head and made a movement to twist away from him. He wouldn't let her, however. Pulling her closer, he bent his golden head and kissed the side of her neck. "Little spoilsport," he whispered, smiling. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
313:Silent, still, dark, and distant. Far more manageable, less troublesome. People are small; they can be ignored.” He raised his head toward the invisible horizon. “The whole world is small at a height like this. Almost makes sense the way it lays out, like watching an ant hive. You never look at one of those and consider the politics, the petty prejudices, and all the vanities that drive them, but it’s the same everywhere. The queen has her favorites, her courtiers. The bigger ants lord over the smaller, the more productive over the weak, and the fortunate over the unlucky. We just can’t hear their squabbles. We’re too far above. Instead, they seem so pure of purpose, so simple, so happy. Maybe that’s how we all look to Maribor and the rest of the godly pantheon.” He peered up at the stars. “Perhaps that’s why they never think to help. ~ Michael J Sullivan,
314:Chapter 4 Tyranny Is Tyranny Around 1776, certain important people in the English colonies made a discovery that would prove enormously useful for the next two hundred years. They found that by creating a nation, a symbol, a legal unity called the United States, they could take over land, profits, and political power from favorites of the British Empire. In the process, they could hold back a number of potential rebellions and create a consensus of popular support for the rule of a new, privileged leadership. When we look at the American Revolution this way, it was a work of genius, and the Founding Fathers deserve the awed tribute they have received over the centuries. They created the most effective system of national control devised in modern times, and showed future generations of leaders the advantages of combining paternalism with command. ~ Howard Zinn,
315:It's not politically correct to say that you love one child more than you love your others. I love all of my kids, period, and they're all your favorites in different ways. But ask any parent who's been through some kind of crisis surrounding a child--a health scare, an academic snarl, an emotional problem--and we will tell you the truth. When something upends the equilibrium--when one child needs you more than the others--that imbalance becomes a black hole. You may never admit it out loud, but the one you love the most is the one who needs you more desperately than his siblings. What we really hope is that each child gets a turn. That we have deep enough reserves to be there for each of them, at different times.
All this goes to hell when two of your children are pitted against each other, and both of them want you on their side. ~ Jodi Picoult,
316:used to use drugs to help me in different situations – Adderall for work, Xanax for sleep, painkillers for pain, you know – but now it’s gotten to the point where I’ll just do anything and everything I can get my hands on at any given moment simply for the sake of getting fucked up and forgetting what a shitty life I live. I know some people would say that I don’t have it that bad but that’s just what some people would say I guess. People say retarded shit, you know? I didn’t start fucking with drugs like coke or molly or heroin until I started chilling with people who fucked with them and I liked them a little I guess, but I still think prescription shit is my favorite. Plus the high is consistent. I use Adderall, Xanax, marijuana, cigarettes and usually some type of painkiller – Promethazine-Codeine syrup and Percocet are my favorites – on a daily basis. ~ Noah Cicero,
317:It's what's in the book that matters. Standing in her daughter's room which also had shelves and shelves filled with books, Tess remembered a character in a favorite story saying that to someone who objected to using the Bible as a fan on a hot summer day. But she could no longer remember which story it was.
Did that mean the book had ceased to live for her? The title she was trying to recall could be in this very room, along with all of Tess's childhood favorites, waiting for Carla Scout to discover them one day. But what if she rejected them all, insisting on her own myths and legends, as Octavia has prophesied? How many of these books would be out of print in five, ten years? What did it mean to be out of print in a world where books could live inside devices, glowing like captured genies, desperate to get back out in the world and grant people's wishes? ~ Laura Lippman,
318:Death has been tolerable to me only because Death has been the Great Democrat, treating all alike. But now Death plays favorites. Zaccur Barstow, can you understand the bitter, bitter jealousy of the ordinary man of-oh, say‚ fifty- who looks on one of your sort? Fifty years . . . twenty of them he is a child, he is well past thirty before he is skilled in his profession. He is forty before he is established and respected. For not more than the last ten years of his fifty he has really amounted to something." Ford leaned forward in the screen and spoke with sober emphasis: "And now, when he has reached his goal, what is his prize? His eyes are failing him, his bright young strength is gone, his heart and wind are‚ not what they used to be. He is not senile yet . . . but he feels the chill of the first frost. He knows what is in store for him. He knows-he knows! ~ Robert A Heinlein,
319:In the center of the table is a classic deli platter of lox and tuna salad with all the fixings, bagels, and cream cheeses. And on a trivet, a noodle kugel, a casserole of egg noodles suspended in a light sweet custard, with a crunchy topping of crushed cornflakes mixed with cinnamon and brown sugar. It was always my favorite thing my mom ever made.
"All my favorites." My mom beams at me.
"And mine too. Let's eat!" my dad says, swatting my mom on her ample tush.
We make our plates, I grab a plain bagel and top one up with tuna salad and dill pickle, and the other with chive cream cheese and cucumber. I also help myself to a large corner chunk of kugel, for maximum crispy edges, and some coleslaw. Clearly someone went all the way out to Kaufman's on Dempster in Skokie; I can tell by the bagels. A slight crunch on the outside gives way to perfect dense chewiness. ~ Stacey Ballis,
320:Between the ages of ten and fifteen in St. Petersburg, I must have read more fiction and poetry—English, Russian and French—than in any other five-year period of my life. I relished especially the works of Wells, Poe, Browning, Keats, Flaubert, Verlaine, Rimbaud, Chekhov, Tolstoy, and Alexander Blok. On another level, my heroes were the Scarlet Pimpernel, Phileas Fogg, and Sherlock Holmes. In other words, I was a perfectly normal trilingual child in a family with a large library. At a later period, in Western Europe, between the ages of 20 and 40, my favorites were Housman, Rupert Brooke, Norman Douglas, Bergson, Joyce, Proust, and Pushkin. Of these top favorites, several—Poe, Jules Verne, Emmuska Orezy, Conan Doyle, and Rupert Brooke—have lost the glamour and thrill they held for me. The others remain intact and by now are probably beyond change as far as I am concerned. ~ Vladimir Nabokov,
321:Writing is hard. Writing that is good, writing that is powerful enough to evoke a change or an authentic emotion or even just an idea in another human being is about as mysterious as an alchemical recipe, but there are a few known ingredients. Craft? Yes, absolutely. Devotion? A load - yes! Humility? Not vital, I suppose, but all my favorites include at least a dash. Before those can be added to the cauldron though, you must have a base of Honesty. Honesty is difficult to find in public spaces these days (and getting harder every goddamn day) but if you're quiet, and patient, you can usually find some hidden in your room somewhere. (It helps to turn off the lights, for some reason.) Problem is, Honesty is invariably bound to Vulnerability and the only thing that cuts the bitterness of Vulnerability is Courage. And Courage?
Well. Courage is the hardest thing of all. ~ Kelly Sue DeConnick,
322:It is possible for the rich to sin by coveting the privileges of the poor.
The poor has always being the favorites of god"
I caught him’ [the thief] with an unseen hook and an invisible line which is long enough to let him wander to the ends of the world and still bring him back with a twitch upon the thread.”
Do you know last year, when I thought I was going to have a child, I'd decided to have it brought up a Catholic? I hadn't thought about religion before; I haven't since; but just at that time, when I was was waiting for the birth, I thought, 'That's the one thing I can give her. It doesn't seem to have done me much good, but my child shall have it.'
Charm is the great English blight. It does not exist outside these damp islands. It spots and kills anything it touches. It kills love; it kills art; I greatly fear, my dear Charles, it has killed you ~ Evelyn Waugh,
323:What do you want from me?” Leo took a long time to answer, his fingers trailing to her earlobe, massaging lightly. “I want your secrets. And I’ll get them out of you one way or another.” That gave her the impetus to swat his hand away. “Stop this. You’re amusing yourself at my expense, as usual. You are a dissipated scoundrel, an unprincipled cad, and—” “Don’t forget ‘lecherous libertine,—” he said. “That’s one of my favorites.” “Get out!” He pushed away lazily from the dressing table. “All right. I’ll go. Obviously you fear that if I stay, you won’t be able to control your desire for me.” “The only desire I have for you,” she said, “involves maiming and dismemberment.” Leo grinned and went to the door. Pausing at the threshold, he glanced over his shoulder. “Your spectacles are fogging again,” he said helpfully, and slipped through the door before she could find something to throw. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
324:People share books they love. They want to spread to friends and family the goodness that they felt when reading the book or the ideas they found in the pages. In sharing a loved book, a reader is trying to share the same excitement, pleasure, chills, and thrills of reading that they themselves experienced. Why else share? Sharing a love of books and of one particular book is a good thing. But it is also a tricky maneuver, for both sides. The giver of the book is not exactly ripping open her soul for a free look, but when she hands over the book with the comment that it is one of her favorites, such an admission is very close to the baring of the soul. We are what we love to read, and when we admit to loving a book, we admit that the book represents some aspect of ourselves truly, whether it is that we are suckers for romance or pining for adventure or secretly fascinated by crime. ~ Nina Sankovitch,
325:Jasu offers a weak smile to the taunting men, but Kavita sees the pain in his eyes. She sees the injured pride, the shame, the disappointment she knows he feels. In this moment, witnessing him in his messy, helpless state, Kavita feels her anger and fear washed away by sorrow. All this time, Jasu has had only one goal above all else, to provide for his family. And over the last twenty years, it seems as if God has been dreaming up one cruel complication after another to keep him from even this modest goal. The poor harvests back in Dahanu, the illusive dhaba-wallah job, the bicycle factory raid, the moneylender, and now his broken hand, dangling limply at his side as he tries to stand. Kavita rushes over to help him. “Come, Jasu-ji,” she says, using the respectful term of address for her husband. “You wanted me to tell you when dinner was ready. I’ve made all your favorites—bhindi masala, khadi, laddoo. ~ Shilpi Somaya Gowda,
326:began to walk home, very quickly. A car full of high-school girls screeched around the corner. They were the girls who ran all the clubs and won all the elections in Allison’s high-school class: little Lisa Leavitt; Pam McCormick, with her dark ponytail, and Ginger Herbert, who had won the Beauty Revue; Sissy Arnold, who wasn’t as pretty as the rest of them but just as popular. Their faces—like movie starlets’, universally worshiped in the lower grades—smiled from practically every page of the yearbook. There they were, triumphant, on the yellowed, floodlit turf of the football field—in cheerleader uniform, in majorette spangles, gloved and gowned for homecoming; convulsed with laughter on a carnival ride (Favorites) or tumbling elated in the back of a September haywagon (Sweethearts)—and despite the range of costume, athletic to casual to formal wear, they were like dolls whose smiles and hair-dos never changed. ~ Donna Tartt,
327:My stories may seem to be the stories of men, but a check of my books will show that I have probably written the stories of more strong women than any other writer....[examples include] Miss Nesselrode of The Lonesome Gods, Ruth Macken of Bendigo Shafter, Echo Sackett of Ride the River, Em Talon of Ride the Dark Trail are some....[and] one of my favorites is Miss Jessica Trescott of Matagorda. (The Sackett Companion) ~ Louis L Amour,
328:These new taxes and the nationalization of finance meant the U.S. government would soon be dealing with a healthy budget surplus. Universal health care, free public education through college, a living wage, guaranteed full employment, a year of mandatory national service, all these were not only made law but funded. They were only the most prominent of many good ideas to be proposed, and please feel free to add your own favorites, as certainly everyone else did in this moment of we-the-peopleism. And as all this political enthusiasm and success caused a sharp rise in consumer confidence indexes, now a major influence on all market behavior, ironically enough, bull markets appeared all over the planet. This was intensely reassuring to a certain crowd, and given everything else that was happening, it was a group definitely in need of reassurance. That making people secure and prosperous would be a good thing for the economy was a really pleasant surprise to them. Who knew? ~ Kim Stanley Robinson,
329:Remember this study when you are in a negotiation—make your initial request far too high. You have to start somewhere, and your initial decision or calculation greatly influences all the choices that follow, cascading out, each tethered to the anchors set before. Many of the choices you make every day are reruns of past decisions; as if traveling channels dug into a dirt road by a wagon train of selections, you follow the path created by your former self. External anchors, like prices before a sale or ridiculous requests, are obvious and can be avoided. Internal, self-generated anchors, are not so easy to bypass. You visit the same circuit of Web sites every day, eat basically the same few breakfasts. When it comes time to buy new cat food or take your car in for repairs, you have old favorites. Come election time, you pretty much already know who will and will not get your vote. These choices, so predictable—ask yourself what drives them. Are old anchors controlling your current decisions? ~ David McRaney,
330:You'd think the very thought of a romance writer would bring a smile to people's lips. Ah, how nice. Love. Making love. Laughter. Kissing.
But no, the world is upside down as far as I can see, and romances and their writers are ridiculed, hisses and generally spat upon.
For what reason? One of my favorites is that women who read them might get mixed up about reality and imagine a man is going to rescue them from Life. According to this theory, women are so stupid that they can't tell a story from reality. Is anyone worried that the MEN who read spy thrillers are going to go after their neighbors with an automatic weapon? No, I don't remember anyone thinking that. Nor do I remember anyone worrying about murder mysteries or science fiction. It just seems to be dumb ol' women who might think some gorgeous, thoughtful, giving hunk is going to rescue them.
Honey, if any woman thought a gorgeous hunk was going to rescue her, romance novels wouldn’t be forty percent of the publishing industry. ~ Jude Deveraux,
331:He followed her into the kitchen, then stood dripping in front of the sink. Miranda brought him towels, made a pot of strong coffee, and pulled out Aunt Teeta’s latest homemade confection--bread pudding with rum sauce--which she popped into the microwave.
“Great. My favorite.” Nodding approval, Etienne continued towel drying his hair.
“Aunt Teeta told me you say that about every single thing she makes.”
“And it’s true. They’re all my favorites.” Pausing, he shoved his wet hair back from his face and stared at her, eyes narrowed. “Hey, you okay, cher?”
“Well”--Miranda drew a deep breath--“I wasn’t okay just a few minutes ago. But I think I am now.”
“Ah. Is that your way of telling me I’m your hero?”
Miranda couldn’t resist. “No. It’s my way of telling you that I had a nightmare, but I woke up.”
“That’s cruel, cher. You just stabbed me straight in my heart.”
She watched his lips quirk at the edges, his dark eyes shining with amusement. ~ Richie Tankersley Cusick,
332:to move together, Hannah recognized Sam Cooke’s “You Send Me,” one of her favorites. You sure do, she thought to herself. She was still breathing a bit heavily from the exertion of the previous dances, but now she sighed, moved closer, and relaxed into Drew. It felt so good. She felt his heartbeat beneath her cheek and was as soothed by it, and by his warm body against hers, as a puppy snuggled into a basket with a hot water bottle. The image made her smile. She wouldn’t share that, she decided. As he held her and she melted into him, the solid breadth of his muscular back under her hands and his powerful thighs against hers, the warmth kindled into something hotter. She pressed herself more tightly against him and stroked her hand over his back just to enjoy the feeling of his muscles moving as he slowly turned her in time to the music. That valley where his spine ran, the ridge of muscle rising strongly on either side. That was her special place. She ran her fingers slowly down it as they continued to dance. Drew’s ~ Rosalind James,
333:he had seen his share of heroes, too. Major Rawls never knew everything that Owen had known; the major knew only that Owen had been a hero—he didn’t know that Owen Meany had been a miracle, too. There’s a prayer I say most often for Owen. It’s one of the little prayers he said for my mother, the night Hester and I found him in the cemetery—where he’d brought the flashlight, because he knew how my mother had hated the darkness. “‘INTO PARADISE MAY THE ANGELS LEAD YOU,’” he’d said over my mother’s grave; and so I say that one for him—I know it was one of his favorites. I am always saying prayers for Owen Meany. And I often try to imagine how I might have answered Mary Beth Baird, when she spoke to me—at Owen’s burial. If I could have spoken, if I hadn’t lost my voice—what would I have said to her, how could I have answered her? Poor Mary Beth Baird! I left her standing in the cemetery without an answer. “Do you remember how we used to lift him up?” she’d asked me. “He was so easy to lift up!” Mary Beth Baird had said to me. “He was so light—he weighed ~ John Irving,
334:She was tipping her head back to inquire, when two men entered the great hall and the question flew right out of her head.
They were simply two of the most gorgeous men she'd ever seen. Twins, though different. They were both tall and powerfully built. One was taller by a few inches, with dark hair that swept just past his shoulders and eyes like shard of silver and ice while the other had long black hair falling in a single braid to his waist, and eyes as gold as Adam's torque. They were elegantly dressed in tailored clothing of dark hues, with magnificent bodies that dripped with raw sex appeal.
Oh, my, she marveled, they don't amek men like these in the States. Were these typical Scotsmen? If so, she was going to have to get Elizabeth over here somehow. A connoisseur of romance novels, Elizabeth's favorites were the Scottish ones, and these two men looked as if they'd just stepped straight off one of those covers.
"Try not to gape, ka-lyrra. They're only human. Mortal. Puny. And married. Both of them. Happily. ~ Karen Marie Moning,
335:Adams's diplomatic victory was Napoleonic in its magnitude and completeness, Even Caulaincourt, whom he overthrew, good-naturedly congratulated him after he had succeeded,against Caulaincourt"s utmost efforts,in saving all American ships."It seems you are great favorites here;you have found powerful protection,"said the defeated ambassador.The American minister felt but one drawback, he could not wholly believe that his victory was sure.Anxious by temperament,with little confidence in his own good fortune,fighting his battles with energy,but rather with that of despair than hope,the younger Adams never allowed himself to enjoy the full relish of a triumph before it staled, while he never failed to taste with the fullest flavor,as though it were a precious wine,every drop in the bitter cup of his defeats. In this, the most brilliant success of his diplomatic career, he could not be blamed for doubting whether such fortune could last. That the czar of Russia should persist in braving almost sure destruction in order to defend American rights which America herself proclaimed to be unassailed, passed the bounds of fiction. ~ Henry Adams,
336:In return for receiving the Congo, the Belgian government first of all agreed to assume its 110 million francs’ worth of debts, much of them in the form of bonds Leopold had freely dispensed over the years to favorites like Caroline. Some of the debt the outmaneuvered Belgian government assumed was in effect to itself—the nearly 32 million francs worth of loans Leopold had never paid back. As part of the deal, Belgium also agreed to pay 45.5 million francs toward completing certain of the king’s pet building projects. Fully a third of the amount was targeted for the extensive renovations under way at Laeken, already one of Europe’s most luxurious royal homes, where, at the height of reconstruction, 700 stone masons, 150 horses, and seven steam cranes had been at work following a grand Leopoldian blueprint to build a center for world conferences. Finally, on top of all this, Leopold was to receive, in installments, another fifty million francs “as a mark of gratitude for his great sacrifices made for the Congo.” Those funds were not expected to come from the Belgian taxpayer. They were to be extracted from the Congo itself. ~ Adam Hochschild,
337:Each day, Internet users share more than 1.8 billion photos, according to a report by venture firm Kleiner Perkins Caufield & Byers. For advertisers, the social media posts that include those photos are more valuable than those with just text because pictures reveal how consumers act "in the wild." "You have a window into their world," said Duncan Alney, CEO of Firebelly Marketing in Indianapolis, which uses Ditto Labs' service. Alney, whose firm represents a beer company, learned from Ditto that people drink beer not just with pub grub but also with healthier snacks like hummus. And that consumers who favor mainstream beers also consume craft brews. Other companies use it to interact with fans. Nissan North America found a photo on Twitter of a baby peeking out from behind a cardboard cutout of a Nissan race car driver. Nissan got the Twitter user's permission and reposted the photo on the company's account, garnering 17 retweets and 37 favorites. The original photo was not tagged with "Nissan," so without Ditto the company never would have found it, said Rob Robinson, a senior specialist in social communications at the automaker. ~ Anonymous,
338:The greatest managers in the world do not have much in common. They are of different sexes, races, and ages. They employ vastly different styles and focus on different goals. But despite their differences, these great managers do share one thing: Before they do anything else, they first break all the rules of conventional wisdom. They do not believe that a person can achieve anything he sets his mind to. They do not try to help a person overcome his weaknesses. They consistently disregard the Golden Rule. And, yes, they even play favorites. Great managers are revolutionaries, although few would use that word to describe themselves. This book will take you inside the minds of these managers to explain why they have toppled conventional wisdom and reveal the new truths they have forged in its place. We are not encouraging you to replace your natural managerial style with a standardized version of theirs — as you will see, great managers do not share a “standardized style.” Rather, our purpose is to help you capitalize on your own style, by showing you how to incorporate the revolutionary insights shared by great managers everywhere. ~ Marcus Buckingham,
339:People share books they love. They want to spread to friends and family the goodness that they felt when reading the book or the ideas they found in the pages. In sharing a loved book, a reader is trying to share the same excitement, pleasure, chills, and thrills of reading that they themselves experienced. Why else share? Sharing a love of books and of one particular book is a good thing. But it is also a tricky maneuver, for both sides. The giver of the book is not exactly ripping open her soul for a free look, but when she hands over the book with the comment that it is one of her favorites, such an admission is very close to the baring of the soul. We are what we love to read, and when we admit to loving a book, we admit that the book represents some aspect of ourselves truly, whether it is that we are suckers for romance or pining for adventure or secretly fascinated by crime. On the other side of the offered book is the taker. If she is at all a sensitive being, she knows that the soul of the offering friend has been laid wide open and that she, the taker, had better not spit on her friend’s soul. I am not exaggerating. Sixteen ~ Nina Sankovitch,
340:In the rearview mirror, he caught Blue’s eyes by accident. Strangely enough, he saw his own thoughts reflected in her face: excitement and consternation. Casually, out of view of Ronan, making sure Adam was still sleeping, Gansey dangled his hand between the driver’s seat and the door. Palm up, fingers stretched back to Blue.
This was not allowed.
He knew it was not allowed, by rules he himself had set. He would not permit himself to play favorites between Adam and Ronan; he and Blue couldn’t play favorites in this way, either. She would not see the gesture, anyway. She would ignore it if she did. His heart hummed.
Blue touched his fingertips.
Just this —
He pinched her fingers lightly, just for a moment, and then he withdrew his hand and put it back on the wheel. His chest felt warm.
This was not allowed.
Ronan had not seen; Adam was still sleeping. The only casualty was his pulse.
“Your exit, dick!” Ronan snapped. Or Dick. It could have been either, really.
Gansey steered in a hurry. Adam blinked awake. Ronan swore. Gansey’s heart restarted.
Eyes on the road, Gansey. ~ Maggie Stiefvater,
341:CHOCOLATE CHIP CRUNCH COOKIES Preheat oven to 375° F., rack in the middle position. 1 cup butter (2 sticks, melted) 1 cup white sugar 1 cup brown sugar 2 teaspoons baking soda 1 teaspoon salt 2 teaspoons vanilla 2 beaten eggs (you can beat them up with a fork) 2½ cups flour (not sifted) 2 cups crushed corn flakes (just crush them with your hands) 1 to 2 cups chocolate chips Melt butter, add the sugars and stir. Add soda, salt, vanilla, and beaten eggs. Mix well. Then add flour and stir it in. Add crushed corn flakes and chocolate chips and mix it all thoroughly. Form dough into walnut-sized balls with your fingers and place on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. Press them down slightly with a floured or greased spatula. Bake at 375 degrees for 8 to 10 minutes. Cool on cookie sheet for 2 minutes, then remove to a wire rack until they’re completely cool. (The rack is important—it makes them crisp.) Yield: 6 to 8 dozen, depending on cookie size. (These cookies have been Andrea’s favorites since high school.) Hannah’s Note: If these cookies spread out too much in the oven, reduce temp. to 350° F. and do not flatten before baking. ~ Joanne Fluke,
342:10. What books would you recommend to an aspiring entrepreneur? Some quick favorites: The 22 Immutable Laws of Marketing: Violate Them at Your Own Risk! by Al Ries and Jack Trout The 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene The 33 Strategies of War by Robert Greene Antifragile: Things That Gain from Disorder by Nassim Nicholas Taleb The Fish That Ate the Whale: The Life and Times of America’s Banana King by Rich Cohen Wikinomics: How Mass Collaboration Changes Everything by Don Tapscott and Anthony D. Williams Contagious: Why Things Catch On by Jonah Berger The Pirate’s Dilemma: How Youth Culture Is Reinventing Capitalism by Matt Mason Rules for Radicals: A Pragmatic Primer for Realistic Radicals by Saul D. Alinsky The New New Thing: A Silicon Valley Story by Michael Lewis Here Comes Everybody: The Power of Organizing Without Organizations by Clay Shirky Purple Cow: Transform Your Business by Being Remarkable by Seth Godin Eleven Rings: The Soul of Success by Phil Jackson and Hugh Delehanty Billion Dollar Lessons: What You Can Learn from the Most Inexcusable Business Failures of the Last 25 Years by Paul B. Carroll and Chunka Mui Gonzo Marketing: Winning Through Worst Practices by Christopher Locke ~ Ryan Holiday,
343:The taste of manna "was like wafers with honey" (Exod. 16:31, Num. 11:7)... It was indeed the "bread of heaven" (Ps. 78:24)... Just bcause the sharp, strong bite of their beloved Egyptian foods had become preferred tastes of choice in their mouths did not mean that nothing else had the power to satisfy them. In fact, God likely created the moist, sweet manna to serve as a marked contrast to their monster-breath favorites, those fire-breathing flavors that had so long grown delectable to palates poisoned by Egypt's influence. The purity of God's nightly manna against the harsh, high-heat quality of onions and garlic was not merely an ongoing gift of nourishment, but also the beginning of a long process to wean the Hebrews from their loves. It was a clear change of taste.
While the enemy works overtime to keep us addicted to past likes, God relentlessly shapes us through wise amounts of blessing and correction to make us want what's really good for us, till we can truly "taste and see that the LORD is good (Ps. 34:8). He refuses to offer us anything that would excite our prior obsessions, knowing that if we are ever to start living like free men and women, we need to start eating like it. ~ Priscilla Shirer,
GOOD, kindly Mother Nature plays
No favorites, but smiles for all
Who care to tread her pleasant ways
And listen to the song birds' call.
The tulips and the violets grow
For all the world to gaze upon;
With beauty are the hills aglow
Not for a few, but everyone.
Her grass grows green for rich and poor,
For proud and humble, high and low;
Beside the toiler's cottage door
Her morning glories sweetly grow.
In palace or in tenement
Her sunbeams just as gayly dance;
No special charm to one is sent,
No favored few possess her glance.
Her skies are blue for one and all,
Her flowers for every mortal bloom;
Her rains upon all creatures fall,
For all the world is her perfume.
The rich man gets no sweeter smile
Than does the ragged barefoot boy;
Yes, all who live and love the while,
May Mother Nature's charms enjoy.
Ah, what a lesson we may learn
From kindly Mother Nature's ways!
A smiling face we seldom turn
To strangers, when we meet their gaze.
A kindly word we seldom speak
Except unto a favored few,
And some return we often seek
For every kindly deed we do.
~ Edgar Albert Guest,
345:Shakespeare’s way out of the dilemma of writing plays as pleasing at court as they were at the public theater was counterintuitive. Rather than searching for the lowest common denominator, he decided instead to write increasingly complicated plays that dispensed with easy pleasures and made both sets of playgoers work harder than they had ever worked before. It’s not something that he could have imagined doing five years earlier (when he lacked the authority, and London audiences the sophistication, to manage this). And this challenge to the status quo is probably not something that would have gone down well at the Curtain in 1599. But Shakespeare had a clear sense of what veteran playgoers were capable of and saw past their cries for old favorites and the stereotypes that branded them as shallow “groundlings.” He committed himself not only to writing great plays for the Globe but also to nurturing an audience comfortable with their increased complexity. Even before the Theatre was dismantled he must have been excitedly thinking ahead, realizing how crucial his first few plays at the Globe would be. It was a gamble, and there was the possibility that he might overreach and lose both popular and courtly audiences. ~ James Shapiro,
346:I think we’ve seen every movie Cary Grant ever made a dozen times.” She widened her eyes. “Me too. Nanna adored Cary Grant.” “‘Everybody wants to be Cary Grant. Even I want to be Cary Grant.’” “I love that line.” “How about this one. ‘Insanity runs in my family. It practically gallops.’” “Arsenic and Old Lace.” “That’s one point for you.” “My turn. ‘Not that I mind a slight case of abduction now and then, but I have tickets for the theater this evening.’” “Too easy.” AJ smirked. “North by Northwest.” “We’re tied. One point each.” “So it’s a competition now?” “For biggest Cary Grant fan.” “Okay. Try this one. ‘There must be something between us, even if it’s only an ocean.’” “Every woman in the world knows that one.” “Then what is it?” “An Affair to Remember.” Shelby sighed dreamily. “And you can’t watch that one without watching Sleepless in Seattle.” “Another of Gran’s favorites.” “Did you really watch all those movies with her?” “Sure did. About once a month or so on a Sunday afternoon, we’d have a movie marathon.” His eyes softened as he revisited the past, then he grinned. “Sometimes I drifted off to sleep. So did she, but we both pretended we didn’t.” “Sounds like a pleasant way to spend a Sunday.” “It was. ~ Johnnie Alexander,
347:rapacious. To look for a continuation of harmony between a number of independent, unconnected sovereignties in the same neighborhood, would be to disregard the uniform course of human events, and to set at defiance the accumulated experience of ages. The causes of hostility among nations are innumerable. There are some which have a general and almost constant operation upon the collective bodies of society. Of this description are the love of power or the desire of pre-eminence and dominion—the jealousy of power, or the desire of equality and safety. There are others which have a more circumscribed though an equally operative influence within their spheres. Such are the rivalships and competitions of commerce between commercial nations. And there are others, not less numerous than either of the former, which take their origin entirely in private passions; in the attachments, enmities, interests, hopes, and fears of leading individuals in the communities of which they are members. Men of this class, whether the favorites of a king or of a people, have in too many instances abused the confidence they possessed; and assuming the pretext of some public motive, have not scrupled to sacrifice the national tranquillity to personal advantage or personal gratification. ~ Alexander Hamilton,
348:IN THE SMALL Ohio town where I grew up, many homes had parlors that contained pianos, sideboards, and sofas, heavy objects signifying gentility. These pianos were rarely tuned. They went flat in summer around the Fourth of July and sharp in winter at Christmas. Ours was a Story and Clark. On its music stand were copies of Stephen Foster and Ethelbert Nevin favorites, along with one Chopin prelude that my mother would practice for twenty minutes every three years. She had no patience, but since she thought Ohio—all of it, every scrap—made sense, she was happy and did not need to practice anything. Happiness is not infectious, but somehow her happiness infected my father, a pharmacist, and then spread through the rest of the household. My whole family was obstinately cheerful. I think of my two sisters, my brother, and my parents as having artificial, pasted-on smiles, like circus clowns. They apparently thought cheer and good Christian words were universals, respected everywhere. The pianos were part of this cheer. They played for celebrations and moments of pleasant pain. Or rather, someone played them, but not too well, since excellent playing would have been faintly antisocial. “Chopin,” my mother said, shaking her head as she stumbled through the prelude. “Why is he famous? ~ Charles Baxter,
like some bright fruit
plum peach apricot
It is a whimsical touch, which surprises and troubles me. That this stony and prosaic woman should in her secret moments harbor such thoughts. For she was sealed from us- from everyone- with such fierceness that I had thought her incapable of yielding.
I never saw her cry. She rarely smiled, and then only in the kitchen with her palette of flavors at her fingertips, talking to herself (so I thought) in the same toneless mutter, enunciating the names of herbs and spices- cinnamon, thyme, peppermint, coriander, saffron, basil, lovage- running a monotonous commentary. See the tile. Has to be the right heat. Too low, the pancake is soggy. Too high, the butter fries black, smokes, the pancake crisps. I understood because I saw in our kitchen seminars the one way in which I might win a little of her approval, and because every good war needs the occasional amnesty. Country recipes from her native Brittany were her favorites; the buckwheat pancakes we ate with everything, the far breton and kouign amann and galette bretonne that we sold in downriver Angers with our goat's cheeses and our sausage and fruit. ~ Joanne Harris,
350:Forgive me for interrupting your task," Devon said to Helen after they were introduced.
A hesitant smile emerged. "Not at all, my lord. I'm merely observing the orchids to make certain there is nothing they lack."
"How can you tell what they lack?" Devon asked.
"I see the color of their leaves, or the condition of the petals. I look for signs of aphids or thrips, and I try to remember which varieties prefer moist soil and which ones like to be drier."
"Will you show them to me?" Devon asked.
Helen nodded and led him along the rows, pointing out particular specimens. "This was all my mother's collection. One of her favorites was Peristeria elata." She showed him a plant with marble-white blossom. "The central part of the flower resembles a tiny dove, you see? And this one is Dendrobium aemulum. It's called a feather orchid because of the petals." With a flash of shy mischief, Helen glanced back at Kathleen and remarked, "My sister-in-law isn't fond of orchids."
"I despise them," Kathleen said, wrinkling her nose. "Stingy, demanding flowers that take forever to bloom. And some of them smell like old boots or rancid meat."
"Those aren't my favorite," Helen admitted. "But I hope to love them someday. Sometimes one must love something before it becomes lovable. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
351:The ringtone was a dead giveaway, emphasis on dead . . . creepy organ music. She didn’t even have to glance at the image of fanged
bunny slippers on the screen to know who was calling. She just sighed, thumbed it on, and held it to her ear.
“Claire! I need you here immediately. Something’s wrong with Bob.” Myrnin, her mad-scientist, blood-addicted boss, sounded actually shaken. “I
can’t get him to eat his insects, and I used his favorites. He just sits there.”
“Bob,” she repeated, looking at Shane in wide-eyed disbelief. “Bob the spider.”
“Just because he’s a spider doesn’t mean he deserves any less concern! Claire, you have a way with him. He likes you.”
Just what she needed. Bob the spider liked her. “You do realize that he’s a year old, at least. And spiders don’t live that long.”
“You think he’s dead?” Myrnin sounded horrified. So wrong.
“Is he curled up?”
“No. He’s just quiet.”
“Well, maybe he’s not hungry.”
“Will you come?” Myrnin asked. He sounded calmer now, but also oddly needy. “It’s been very lonely here these past few days. I’d like your
company, at least for a little while.” When she hesitated, he used the pity card. “Please, Claire.”
“Fine,” she sighed. “I’m bringing Shane.”
After a second of silence, he said, flatly, “Goody,” and hung up. ~ Rachel Caine,
352:By eroding their sense of shame we've made immorality normal, not only in the world but also in the forbidden squadron.
...their new Christian friends recommended some of the movies Fletcher had been wondering if he should now avoid. I was delighted one of them said, "This is a great movie--only one sex scene, and the f-word's only used a few times."
'Titanic' is one of my favorites. How many Christian young people have watched it in their own homes? Think of it, Squaltaint. Suppose someone in the youth group said to the boys, 'There's an attractive girl down the street. Let's get together and go look through her window and watch her undress and lay back on a couch and pose naked from the waist up. Then this girl and her boyfriend will get in a car and have sex--let's get as close as we can and listen to them and watch the windows steam up.'
The strategy would never work. They'd know immediately it was wrong. But you can get them to do exactly the same thing by using a television instead of a window. That's all is takes! Think of it, Squaltaint. Every day Christians across the country, including many squadron leaders, watch women and men undress and commit acts of fornication and adultery the Enemy calls an abomination.
We've made them a bunch of voyeurs! Churches full of peeping toms. ~ Randy Alcorn,
353:Well, tell me boy," she said, "what have you been reading?"
Craftily he picked his way across the waste land of printery,
naming as his favorites those books which he felt would win her
approval. As he had read everything, good and bad, that the town
library contained, he was able to make an impressive showing.
Sometimes she stopped him to question about a book--he rebuilt the
story richly with a blazing tenacity of detail that satisfied her
wholly. She was excited and eager--she saw at once how abundantly
she could feed this ravenous hunger for knowledge, experience,
wisdom. And he knew suddenly the joy of obedience: the wild
ignorant groping, the blind hunt, the desperate baffled desire was
now to be ruddered, guided, controlled. The way through the
passage to India, that he had never been able to find, would now be
charted for him. Before he went away she had given him a fat
volume of nine hundred pages, shot through with spirited engravings
of love and battle, of the period he loved best.
He was drowned deep at midnight in the destiny of the man who
killed the bear, the burner of windmills and the scourge of
banditry, in all the life of road and tavern in the Middle Ages, in
valiant and beautiful Gerard, the seed of genius, the father of
Erasmus. Eugene thought The Cloister and the Hearth the best story
he had ever read. ~ Thomas Wolfe,
354:You’re beautiful, Evie,” came his soft comment.
Having been raised by relations who had always lamented the garish color of her hair and the proliferation of freckles, Evie gave him a skeptical smile. “Aunt Florence has always given me a bleaching lotion to make my freckles vanish. But there’s no getting rid of them.”
Sebastian smiled lazily as he came to her. Taking her shoulders in his hands, he slid an appraising glance along her half-clad body. “Don’t remove a single freckle, sweet. I found some in the most enchanting places. I already have my favorites… shall I tell you where they are?”
Disarmed and discomfited, Evie shook her head and made a movement to twist away from him. He wouldn’t let her, however. Pulling her closer, he bent his golden head and kissed the side of her neck. “Little spoilsport,” he whispered, smiling. “I’m going to tell you anyway.” His fingers closed around a handful of the chemise and eased the hem slowly upward. Her breath caught as she felt his fingers nuzzling tenderly between her bare legs. “As I discovered earlier,” he said against her sensitive throat, “there’s a trail inside your right thigh that leads to—”
A knock at the door interrupted them, and Sebastian lifted his head with a grumble of annoyance. “Breakfast,” he muttered. “And I wouldn’t care to make you choose between my lovemaking or a hot meal, as the answer would likely be unflattering. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
Land lies in water; it is shadowed green.
Shadows, or are they shallows, at its edges
showing the line of long sea-weeded ledges
where weeds hang to the simple blue from green.
Or does the land lean down to lift the sea from under,
drawing it unperturbed around itself?
Along the fine tan sandy shelf
is the land tugging at the sea from under?
The shadow of Newfoundland lies flat and still.
Labrador's yellow, where the moony Eskimo
has oiled it. We can stroke these lovely bays,
under a glass as if they were expected to blossom,
or as if to provide a clean cage for invisible fish.
The names of seashore towns run out to sea,
the names of cities cross the neighboring mountains
-the printer here experiencing the same excitement
as when emotion too far exceeds its cause.
These peninsulas take the water between thumb and finger
like women feeling for the smoothness of yard-goods.
Mapped waters are more quiet than the land is,
lending the land their waves' own conformation:
and Norway's hare runs south in agitation,
profiles investigate the sea, where land is.
Are they assigned, or can the countries pick their colors?
-What suits the character or the native waters best.
Topography displays no favorites; North's as near as West.
More delicate than the historians' are the map-makers' colors.
~ Elizabeth Bishop,
356:He skimmed his knuckles over her jaw before roaming lower to the satiny column of her neck, then back up again. "Surely you could stay for dinner? You said yourself your aunt is away. I can't believe you would prefer eating alone."
Her frown increased. "No, but-"
"Then stay. My cook sets an excellent table. Delicious fare designed to tempt any palate. Tell me your favorites and I'll send word to her to make them especially for you."
Sliding his arm around her back, he bent and pressed his mouth to the base of her throat. "Do you like roast beef?"
"Too heavy, you're right," he stated, dropping kisses against her skin in a leisurely pattern. "What about venison? Unless you are worried it might be gamey. Hmm, I agree."
Her eyelids fluttered, one hand coming up to catch in the fabric of his coat.
Working his way up, he paused and breathed a gentle gust of warm, brandy-scented air into her ear. She shuddered, a tiny moan escaping her lips.
"Partridge, perhaps? In a sweet vermouth with plump raisins and orange peel. How does that sound?"
He smiled, wondering if she was referring to the food or his kisses. He definitely hoped the latter.
"Or I know," he whispered, brushing his mouth ever so lightly against hers. "Lobster and oysters. Light and delicate, with a taste as fresh as the sea. Shall we try that? I could feed them to you bite by delectable bite. ~ Tracy Anne Warren,
357:The truth is, everyone likes to look down on someone. If your favorites are all avant-garde writers who throw in Sanskrit and German, you can look down on everyone. If your favorites are all Oprah Book Club books, you can at least look down on mystery readers. Mystery readers have sci-fi readers. Sci-fi can look down on fantasy. And yes, fantasy readers have their own snobbishness. I’ll bet this, though: in a hundred years, people will be writing a lot more dissertations on Harry Potter than on John Updike. Look, Charles Dickens wrote popular fiction. Shakespeare wrote popular fiction—until he wrote his sonnets, desperate to show the literati of his day that he was real artist. Edgar Allan Poe tied himself in knots because no one realized he was a genius. The core of the problem is how we want to define “literature”. The Latin root simply means “letters”. Those letters are either delivered—they connect with an audience—or they don’t. For some, that audience is a few thousand college professors and some critics. For others, its twenty million women desperate for romance in their lives. Those connections happen because the books successfully communicate something real about the human experience. Sure, there are trashy books that do really well, but that’s because there are trashy facets of humanity. What people value in their books—and thus what they count as literature—really tells you more about them than it does about the book. ~ Brent Weeks,
On an evening, for example, when the naive tourist has retired
from our economic horrors, a master's hand awakens
the meadow's harpsichord;
they are playing cards at the bottom of the pond,
mirror conjuring up favorites and queens;
there are saints, veils, threads of harmony,
and legendary chromatics in the setting sun.
He shudders as the hunts and hordes go by.
Comedy drips on the grass stages.
And the distress of the poor and of the weak
on those stupid planes! Before his slave's vision,
Germany goes scaffolding toward moons;
Tartar deserts light up; ancient revolts ferment
in the center of the Celestial Empire;
over stairways and armchairs of rock, a little world, wan and flat,
Africa and Occidents, will be erected.
Then a ballet of familiar seas and nights,
worthless chemistry and impossible melodies. The same bourgeois magic
wherever the mail-train sets you down.
Even the most elementary physicist feels that it is no longer possible
to submit to this personal atmosphere, fog of physical remorse,
which to acknowledge is already an affliction. No!
The moment of the seething cauldron, of seas removed,
of subterranean conflagrations, of the planet swept away,
and the consequent exterminations, certitudes indicated
with so little malice by the Bible and by the Norns
and for which serious persons should be on the alert
~ Arthur Rimbaud,
359:I know all their favorites. It's a knack, a professional secret, like a fortune teller reading palms. My mother would have laughed at this waste of my skills, but I have no desire to probe farther into their lives than this. I do not want their secrets or their innermost thoughts. Nor do I want their fears or gratitude. A tame alchemist, she would have called me with kindly contempt, working domestic magic when I could have wielded marvels. But I like these people. I like their small and introverted concerns. I can read their eyes, their mouths, so easily- this one with its hint of bitterness will relish my zesty orange twists; this sweet-smiling one the soft-centered apricot hearts; this girl with the windblown hair will love the mendiants; this brisk, cheery woman the chocolate brazils. For Guillaume, the florentines, eaten neatly over a saucer in his tidy bachelor's house. Narcisse's appetite for double-chocolate truffles reveals the gentle heart beneath the gruff exterior. Caroline Clairmont will dream of cinder toffee tonight and wake hungry and irritable. And the children... Chocolate curls, white buttons with colored vermicelli, pain d'épices with gilded edging, marzipan fruits in their nests of ruffled paper, peanut brittle, clusters, cracknells, assorted misshapes in half-kilo boxes... I sell dreams, small comforts, sweet harmless temptations to bring down a multitude of saints crash-crash-crashing among the hazels and nougatines.... ~ Joanne Harris,
360:Zozie was still watching me with that patient half-smile, as if she expected me to say something more. When I didn't, she simply shrugged and held out a dish of mendiants. She makes them as I do myself: the chocolate thin enough to snap but thick enough to satisfy; a generous sprinkle of fat raisins; a walnut, an almond; a violet; a crystallized rose.
"Try one," she said. "What do you think?"
The gunpowder scent of chocolate arose from the little dish of mendiants, smelling of summer and lost time. He had tasted of chocolate when I first kissed him; and the scent of damp grass had come from the ground where we had lain side by side; and his touch had been unexpectedly soft, and his hair like summer marigolds in the dying light-
Zozie was still holding out the dish of mendiants. It's made of blue Murano glass, with a little gold flower on the side. It's only a bauble, and yet I'm fond of it. Roux gave it to me in Lansquenet, and I have carried it with me ever since, in my luggage, in my pockets, like a touchstone.
I looked up and saw Zozie looking at me. Her eyes were a distant, fairytale blue, like something you might see in dreams.
"You won't tell anyone?" I said.
"Of course not." She picked up a chocolate between delicate fingers and held it out for me to take. Rich, dark chocolate, rum-soaked raisins, vanilla, rose, and cinnamon...
"Try one, Vianne," she said with a smile. "I happen to know they're your favorites. ~ Joanne Harris,
361:The little one sleeps in its cradle, I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies with my hand. The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill, I peeringly view them from the top. The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom, I witness the corpse with its dabbled hair, I note where the pistol has fallen. The blab of the pave, tires of carts, sluff of boot soles, talk of the promenaders, The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating thumb, the clank of the shod horses on the granite floor, The snow sleighs, clinking, shouted jokes, pelts of snowballs, The hurrahs for popular favorites, the fury of roused mobs, The flap of the curtained litter, a sick man inside borne to the hospital, The meeting of enemies, the sudden oath, the blows and fall, The excited crowd, the policeman with his star quickly working his passage to the center of the crowd, The impassive stones that receive and return so many echoes, What groans of overfed or half-starved who fall sunstruck or in fits, What exclamations of women taken suddenly who hurry home and give birth to babes, What living and buried speech is always vibrating here, what howls restrained by decorum, Arrests of criminals, slights, adulterous offers made, acceptances, rejections with convex lips, I mind them or the show or resonance of them -- I come and I depart. [2333.jpg] -- from Song of Myself, by Walt Whitman
~ Walt Whitman, 8 - The little one sleeps in its cradle
362:During the latter three centuries the process itself of their existence has become such that in the presences of most of them during their daily existence those 'being-confrontative-associations' almost no longer arise, which usually proceed in three-brained beings thanks to every kind of new perception, and from which alone can data be crystallized in the common presences of three-brained beings for their own individuality.
Well then, when your favorites, existing in such a manner in their 'daily life,' go to these contemporary theaters and follow the senseless manipulations of these contemporary actors, and receive 'shocks' one after the other from every kind of reminiscence, already previously perceived, of not less senseless and absurd notions, then during this waking state of theirs, they willy-nilly obtain more or less tolerable being-associations, so that when they go home and go to bed they sleep much better than usual.
Although indeed these contemporary theaters with all that proceeds in them happen to be in this way--but of course only 'for today'--an excellent means for better sleep, nevertheless the objectively evil consequences of these theaters for beings, and particularly for the rising generation, are incalculable.
The chief harm for them from these theaters is that they are an additional factor for the complete destruction in them of all possibilities of ever possessing the need, proper to three-brained beings, called the 'need-for-real-perceptions. ~ G I Gurdjieff,
363:I'm making a galette instead of a tart," Sam said.
"Fancy," Deana said.
"Actually, it's not," Sam said. "It's more rustic. More fitting of Michigan, I thought."
Willo pulled three mugs- all mismatched- from her cupboard and poured three cups of coffee.
"In school, I learned that a galette is sort of the offspring of a pie and a tart- halfway between homespun and fancy- but easier to make than its parents. The biggest difference is that a galette is a free-form pastry, baked without a pie pan or tart ring. It's rustic. And it's forgiving. You just roll it out flat and then fold it in roughly around the filling." Sam stopped and sipped her coffee. "The wonderful thing is that you can't mess it up; the crust will tear and be a little more done in places, the juices will leak, but as long as you use really fresh ingredients, like the fruit we have here, and real butter for the dough, it bakes into something magical. Making a galette really gave me confidence to try trickier desserts. But it's still one of my favorites. And you can make sweet or savory galettes. I made two crusts today. I thought I'd turn one into a savory galette for dinner. I have a recipe for an asparagus, mushroom, goat cheese, and bacon galette I think I'll make."
Sam looked at her mom and grandma, who were staring at her openmouthed. "I never realized how accomplished you were," Deana said. "But I knew you had- what did we call it, Mom?"
"The gift," Willo said. "You've always had the desire and talent to bake. ~ Viola Shipman,
364:A poet or philosopher should have no fault to find with his age if it only permits him to do his work undisturbed in his own corner; nor with his fate if the corner granted him allows of his following his vocation without having to think about other people. For the brain to be a mere laborer in the service of the belly, is indeed the common lot of almost all those who do not live on the work of their hands; and they are far from being discontented with their lot. But it strikes despair into a man of great mind, whose brain-power goes beyond the measure necessary for the service of the will; and he prefers, if need be, to live in the narrowest circumstances, so long as they afford ihm the free use of his time for the development and application of his faculties; in other words, if they give him the leisure which is invaluable to him. It is otherwise with ordinary people; for them leisure has no value in itself, nor is it, indeed, without its dangers, as these people seem to know. The technical work of our time, which is done to an unprecedented perfection, has, by increasing and multiplying objects of luxury, given the favorites of fortune a choice between more leisure and culture upon the one side, and additional luxury and good living, but with increased activity, upon the other; and true to their character they choose the latter, and prefer champagne to freedom. And they are consistent in their choice; for, to them, every exertion of the mind which does not serve the aims of the will is folly. Intellectual effort for its own sake, they call eccentricity. ~ Arthur Schopenhauer,
365:Oh, don't get me started! I love fantasy, I read it for pleasure, even after all these years. Pat McKillip, Ursula Le Guin and John Crowley are probably my favorite writers in the field, in addition to all the writers in the Endicott Studio group - but there are many others I also admire. In children's fantasy, I'm particularly keen on Philip Pullman, Donna Jo Napoli, David Almond and Jane Yolen - though my favorite novels recently were Midori Snyder's Hannah's Garden, Holly Black's Tithe, and Neil Gaiman's Coraline.
I read a lot of mainstream fiction as well - I particularly love Alice Hoffman, A.S. Byatt, Sara Maitland, Sarah Waters, Sebastian Faulks, and Elizabeth Knox. There's also a great deal of magical fiction by Native American authors being published these days - Louise Erdrich's Antelope Wife, Alfredo Vea Jr.'s Maravilla, Linda Hogan's Power, and Susan Power's Grass Dancer are a few recent favorites.
I'm a big fan of Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, Charles Dickens, and Anthony Trollope - I re-read Jane Austen's novels in particular every year.Other fantasists say they read Tolkien every year, but for me it's Austen. I adore biographies, particularly biographies of artists and writers (and particularly those written by Michael Holroyd). And I love books that explore the philosophical side of art, such as Lewis Hyde's The Gift, Carolyn Heilbrun's Writing a Woman's Life, or David Abram's Spell of the Sensuous.
(from a 2002 interview) ~ Terri Windling,
366:Here are a few of my favorite physical journals: Five Minute Journal (FiveMinuteJournal.com) has become very popular among top performers. It has a very specific format for each day, giving you prompts, such as “I am grateful for…” and “What would make today great?” It literally takes five minutes or less, and includes an “Evening” option, which allows you to review your day. The Miracle Morning Journal (available on Amazon or at MiracleMorningJournal.com) is designed specifically to enhance and support your Miracle Morning, and to keep you organized and accountable to keep track of your Life S.A.V.E.R.S. each day. You can also download a free sample of The Miracle Morning Journal today at TMMbook.com to make sure it’s right for you. BulletJournal.com. It’s not actually a journal you buy, it’s a journal system you incorporate into the journal of your choosing. If you prefer to use a digital journal, there are also many choices available. Here are a few of my favorites: Five Minute Journal (FiveMinuteJournal.com) also offers an iPhone app, which follows the same format as the physical version but also sends you helpful reminders to input your entries each morning and evening. It also allows you to upload photos to create visual memories. Day One (DayOneApp.com) is a popular journaling app, and it’s perfect if you don’t want any structure or any limits on how much you can write. Day One offers a blank page, so if you like to write lengthy journal entries, this may be the app for you. Pen Peen Peones Pinza (Penzu.com) is a very popular online journal, which doesn’t require an iPhone, iPad, or Android device. All you need is a computer. ~ Hal Elrod,
367:Just So You Know
You fall in love with every book you touch. You never break the spine or tear the pages. That would be cruel. You have secret favorites but, when asked, you say that you could never choose. But did you know that books fall in love with you, too?
They watch you from the shelf while you sleep. Are you dreaming of them, they wonder, in that wistful mood books are prone to at night when they’re bored and there’s nothing else to do but tease the cat.
Remember that pale yellow book you read when you were sixteen? It changed your world, that book. It changed your dreams. You carried it around until it was old and thin and sparkles no longer rose from the pages and filled the air when you opened it, like it did when it was new. You should know that it still thinks of you. It would like to get together sometime, maybe over coffee next month, so you can see how much you’ve both changed.
And the book about the donkey your father read to you every night when you were three, it’s still around – older, a little worse for wear. But it still remembers the way your laughter made its pages tremble with joy.
Then there was that book, just last week, in the bookstore. It caught your eye. You looked away quickly, but it was too late. You felt the rush. You picked it up and stroked your hand over its glassy cover. It knew you were The One. But, for whatever reason, you put it back and walked away. Maybe you were trying to be practical. Maybe you thought there wasn’t room enough, time enough, energy enough.
But you’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?
You fall in love so easily.
But just so you know, they do, too. ~ Sarah Addison Allen,
368:It must be a shock to see us so old,” Hannah said. “I’m afraid I couldn’t climb a tree or shoot a marble if my life depended on it. Neither could Andrew, but I doubt he’ll admit it.”
“If I put my mind to it,” Andrew said, “I could beat Drew with one hand tied behind my back. He was never any match for me.”
Hannah raised her eyebrows. “It seems to me he outplayed you once.”
“Pshaw. What’s one game?”
If Aunt Blythe hadn’t come back just then, I’d have argued, maybe even challenged Andrew to a rematch, but instead, I smiled and leaned my head against Hannah’s shoulder, happy to feel her arm around me. This close, she still smelled like rose water.
Turning the pages of the album, Hannah showed us pictures of Mama and Papa, Theo, herself--and Andrew.
“These are my favorites.” She pointed to the photographs John had taken of us in the Model T. We were all smiling except Theo. He sat beside me, scowling into the camera, still angry about Mrs. Armiger and the music lessons.
“We wanted Theo to come with us today,” Hannah said, “but he’s living down in Florida with his third wife--a lady half his age, I might add.”
Andrew nudged me. “He sends his best, said he hopes to see you again someday.”
I glanced at Aunt Blythe but she was staring at the photograph. “The resemblance is incredible. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was Drew.”
Andrew chuckled. “Take a good look at me now. This is how the poor boy will look when he’s ninety-six.”
I studied his rosy face, his white hair and mustache. His back was bent, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. Going to his side, I put my arms around him. “You’re not so bad,” I said. Dropping my voice to a whisper, I added, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you could still beat me in a game of ringer. ~ Mary Downing Hahn,
369:The overwhelming favorites to dominate the race to become the so-called Information Superhighway were competing proprietary technologies from industry powerhouses such as Oracle and Microsoft. Their stories captured the imagination of the business press. This was not so illogical, since most companies didn’t even run TCP/IP (the software foundation for the Internet)—they ran proprietary networking protocols such as AppleTalk, NetBIOS, and SNA. As late as November 1995, Bill Gates wrote a book titled The Road Ahead, in which he predicted that the Information Superhighway—a network connecting all businesses and consumers in a world of frictionless commerce—would be the logical successor to the Internet and would rule the future. Gates later went back and changed references from the Information Superhighway to the Internet, but that was not his original vision. The implications of this proprietary vision were not good for business or for consumers. In the minds of visionaries like Bill Gates and Larry Ellison, the corporations that owned the Information Superhighway would tax every transaction by charging a “vigorish,” as Microsoft’s then–chief technology officer, Nathan Myhrvold, referred to it. It’s difficult to overstate the momentum that the proprietary Information Superhighway carried. After Mosaic, even Marc and his cofounder, Jim Clark, originally planned a business for video distribution to run on top of the proprietary Information Superhighway, not the Internet. It wasn’t until deep into the planning process that they decided that by improving the browser to make it secure, more functional, and easier to use, they could make the Internet the network of the future. And that became the mission of Netscape—a mission that they would gloriously accomplish. ~ Ben Horowitz,
370:So I took another look at Genesis …” “You know Genesis?” “And Nehemiah, Ezra, Proverbs, Lamentations—one of my favorites, hilarious subtext, but I can’t read it on airplanes, where people get upset with laughing fits. The whole book’s a classic.” “You read the whole Bible?” “Couple times. And you know how in Genesis, Lot’s the only good guy in the twin cities, Sodom and Gomorrah. These two male angels come to stay with him. Apparently they’re lookers. Think Matt Damon and Ben Affleck in Dogma. And these people from his street bang on Lot’s door, wanting him to let the houseguests out so they can have gay sex. Now Lot’s always been an accommodating neighbor, but this ain’t no potluck dinner. They argue back and forth, going nowhere. So, finally, in an attempt to show that sex with girls is much more fun and convert them to heterosexuality, Lot offers to turn over his two underage, virgin daughters for gang rape.” “It doesn’t say that!” “Let me see your Bible.” Serge executed a perfect sword drill, finding chapter nineteen in seconds. He turned the book around, slid it back across the table and tapped verse eight. Three youths crowded over the page. “It does say that. But how can it be?” “Because God blessed us with curiosity. Read it with an open mind and you realize it’s actually a brilliant satire on homophobia. Think as an individual: The Lord doesn’t want a train pulled on little kids. It’s like reading Swift’s Modest Proposal and thinking he really wants to eat babies. What the Bible’s trying to say is we’re all his children. But if you take Lot’s story literally, well, nice family values, eh? But that’s just my interpretation, which I’m now questioning. I could be way off.” The youths got up and went over to their pastor. “I think we’ve been wrong about gay people …” “… They’re fellow children of God. ~ Tim Dorsey,
371:I really love being able to make a big pot of hearty soup for dinner. It’s a time-saver and the cleanup is always easier. This corn chowder is one of my family’s favorites. The East and West Coasts have their seafood chowders, but we prairie folk raise a lot of corn. No prairie cookbook would be complete without a corn chowder recipe. Serves 4 8 ears fresh corn, shucked 8 slices bacon, chopped ¼ cup (½ stick/55 g) unsalted butter 4 cloves garlic, finely chopped 2 ribs celery, finely chopped 1 yellow onion, finely chopped 1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh thyme 1 fresh or dried bay leaf 6 cups (1.4 L) milk 3 new potatoes (about 1½ pounds/680 g), peeled and cut into ½-inch (12-mm) cubes Salt and freshly ground black pepper ¼ cup (7 g) thinly sliced fresh basil or 4 sprigs thyme, for serving • Working over a large shallow bowl, slice the corn kernels off the cobs, scraping the cobs with the knife to extract the flavorful juices. Halve 5 of the bare corncobs crosswise, discarding the rest. Set the corn and cobs aside. • Cook the bacon in a large pot over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until crisp, about 12 minutes. Reserve 3 tablespoons of the bacon for garnish, leaving the remaining bacon in the pot. Add the butter, garlic, celery, onion, thyme, and bay leaf. Cover the pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion softens, about 6 minutes. Add the reserved corn kernels and cobs, the milk, and potatoes. Cover, bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the potatoes are tender, about 25 minutes. • Skim any foam from the surface of the soup. Discard the cobs and bay leaf. Transfer 1½ cups (360 ml) of the soup to a blender and puree. Stir the puree back into the chowder to thicken it. Season with salt and pepper and serve garnished with the basil or thyme and the reserved bacon. ~ Melissa Gilbert,
372:The Gift Of Play
Some have the gift of song and some possess the gift of silver speech,
Some have the gift of leadership and some the ways of life can teach.
And fame and wealth reward their friends; in jewels are their splendors
But in good time their favorites grow very faint and gray and old.
But there are men who laugh at time and hold the cruel years at bay;
They romp through life forever young because they have the gift of play.
They walk with children, hand in hand, through daisy fields and orchards
Nor all the dignity of age and power and pomp can follow there;
They've kept the magic charm of youth beneath the wrinkled robe of Time,
And there's no friendly apple tree that they have grown too old to climb.
They have not let their boyhood die; they can be children for the day;
They have not bartered for success and all its praise, the gift of play.
They think and talk in terms of youth; with love of life their eyes are
No rheumatism of the soul has robbed them of the world's delight;
They laugh and sing their way along and join in pleasures when they can,
And in their glad philosophy they hold that mirth becomes a man.
They spend no strength in growing old. What if their brows be crowned
The spirits in their breasts are young. They still possess the gift of
The richest men of life are not the ones who rise to wealth and fameNot the great sages, old and wise, and grave of face and bent of frame,
But the glad spirits, tall and straight, who 'spite of time and all its
Have kept the power to laugh and sing and in youth's fellowship to share.
They that can walk with boys and be a boy among them, blithe and gay,
Defy the withering blasts of Age because they have the gift of play.
~ Edgar Albert Guest,
373:Or when you keep a sex-addiction meeting under surveillance because they’re the best places to pick up chicks.” Serge looked around the room at suspicious eyes. “Okay, maybe that last one’s just me. But you should try it. They keep the men’s and women’s meetings separate for obvious reasons. And there are so many more opportunities today because the whole country’s wallowing in this whiny new sex-rehab craze after some golfer diddled every pancake waitress on the seaboard. That’s not a disease; that’s cheating. He should have been sent to confession or marriage counseling after his wife finished chasing him around Orlando with a pitching wedge. But today, the nation is into humiliation, tearing down a lifetime of achievement by labeling some guy a damaged little dick weasel. The upside is the meetings. So what you do is wait on the sidewalk for the women to get out, pretending like you’re loitering. And because of the nature of the sessions they just left, there’s no need for idle chatter or lame pickup lines. You get right to business: ‘What’s your hang-up?’ And she answers, and you say, ‘What a coincidence. Me, too.’ Then, hang on to your hat! It’s like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get. Most people are aware of the obvious, like foot fetish or leather. But there are more than five hundred lesser-known but clinically documented paraphilia that make no sexual sense. Those are my favorites . . .” Serge began counting off on his fingers. “This one woman had Ursusagalmatophilia, which meant she got off on teddy bears—that was easily my weirdest three-way. And nasophilia, which meant she was completely into my nose, and she phoned a friend with mucophilia, which is mucus. The details on that one are a little disgusting. And formicophilia, which is being crawled on by insects, so the babe bought an ant farm. And symphorophilia—that’s staging car accidents, which means you have to time the air bags perfectly ~ Tim Dorsey,
374:Bread plays favorites.
From the earliest times, it acts as a social marker, sifting the poor from the wealthy, the cereal from the chaff.
The exceptional from the mediocre.
Wheat becomes more acceptable than rye; farmers talk of losing their 'rye teeth' as their economic status improves. Barley is for the most destitute, the coarse grain grinding down molars until the nerves are exposed. Breads with the added richness of eggs and milk and butter become the luxuries of princes. Only paupers eat dark bread adulterated with peas and left to sour, or purchase horse-bread instead of man-bread, often baked with the floor sweepings, because it costs a third less than the cheapest whole-meal loaves. When brown bread makes it to the tables of the prosperous, it is as trenchers- plates- stacked high with fish and meat and vegetables and soaked with gravy. The trenchers are then thrown outside, where the dogs and beggars fight over them. Crusts are chipped off the rolls of the rich, both to make it easier to chew and to aid in digestion. Peasants must work all the more to eat, even in the act of eating itself, jaws exhausted from biting through thick crusts and heavy crumb. There is no lightness for them. No whiteness at all.
And it is the whiteness every man wants. Pure, white flour. Only white bread blooms when baked, opening to the heat like a rose. Only a king should be allowed such beauty, because he has been blessed by his God. So wouldn't he be surprised- no, filled with horror- to find white bread the food of all men today, and even more so the food of the common people. It is the least expensive on the shelf at the supermarket, ninety-nine cents a loaf for the storebrand. It is smeared with sweetened fruit and devoured by schoolchildren, used for tea sandwiches by the affluent, donated to soup kitchens for the needy, and shunned by the artisan. Yes, the irony of all ironies, the hearty, dark bread once considered fit only for thieves and livestock is now some of the most prized of all. ~ Christa Parrish,
375:down all the current stressors in your life and one step you could take to alleviate each one. Accepting that a difficult situation is real and clearly identifying the root problem is an important step. Proper diagnosis is half the cure. • Simplify your life. Eliminate and concentrate. Focus on the vital few things that contribute the most to your overall life satisfaction. Taking on too much or spreading yourself too thin inevitably leads to a sense of overload. 4. Combine aerobic, strength, and flexibility exercises. If you want maximum levels of energy, take responsibility for becoming a mini-expert on exercise and fitness. Subscribe to the most credible health and exercise magazines, add informative fitness sites to your Web favorites, and build your own library with the latest books, DVDs, and other resources related to energy and wellness. Aerobic exercise The most important component of effective exercise is aerobic exercise. Aerobics, or cardiovascular endurance, refers to the sustained ability of the heart, lungs, and blood to perform optimally. Through consistent aerobic conditioning, your body improves the way it takes in, transports, and uses oxygen. This means your heart and lungs will be stronger and more efficient at performing their functions. Proper aerobic exercise causes your body to burn fat, while anaerobic exercise causes the body to burn glycogen and store fat. Many people unknowingly exercise anaerobically when they intend to exercise aerobically. This results in, among other things, a frustrating retention of fat. The intensity of your exercise is what makes it anaerobic or aerobic. Consistent and proper aerobic exercise has the following benefits: • improves quality of sleep • relieves stress and anxiety • burns excess fat • suppresses appetite • enhances attitude and mood • stabilizes chemical balance • heightens self-esteem Each of the above benefits either directly or indirectly leads to high levels of both mental and physical energy. Here are some tips for maximizing the ~ Tommy Newberry,
376:Home Cooking: The Comforts of Old Family Favorites."
Easy. Baked macaroni and cheese with crunchy bread crumbs on top; simple mashed potatoes with no garlic and lots of cream and butter; meatloaf with sage and a sweet tomato sauce topping. Not that I experienced these things in my house growing up, but these are the foods everyone thinks of as old family favorites, only improved. If nothing else, my job is to create a dreamlike state for readers in which they feel that everything will be all right if only they find just the right recipe to bring their kids back to the table, seduce their husbands into loving them again, making their friends and neighbors envious.
I'm tapping my keyboard, thinking, what else?, when it hits me like a soft thud in the chest. I want to write about my family's favorites, the strange foods that comforted us in tense moments around the dinner table. Mom's Midwestern "hot dish": layers of browned hamburger, canned vegetable soup, canned sliced potatoes, topped with canned cream of mushroom soup. I haven't tasted it in years. Her lime Jell-O salad with cottage cheese, walnuts, and canned pineapple, her potato salad with French dressing instead of mayo.
I have a craving, too, for Dad's grilling marinade. "Shecret Shauce" he called it in those rare moments of levity when he'd perform the one culinary task he was willing to do. I'd lean shyly against the counter and watch as he poured ingredients into a rectangular cake pan. Vegetable oil, soy sauce, garlic powder, salt and pepper, and then he'd finish it off with the secret ingredient: a can of fruit cocktail. Somehow the sweetness of the syrup was perfect against the salty soy and the biting garlic. Everything he cooked on the grill, save hamburgers and hot dogs, first bathed in this marinade overnight in the refrigerator. Rump roasts, pork chops, chicken legs all seemed more exotic this way, and dinner guests raved at Dad's genius on the grill. They were never the wiser to the secret of his sauce because the fruit bits had been safely washed into the garbage disposal. ~ Jennie Shortridge,
377:How will I choose?” she finally muttered.
“Pick something that doesn’t make you look like a slut. That’ll narrow it down,” Bailey said, now frowning at a headless mannequin wearing a tiny wedding dress with a long train. “Oh, and stay away from too much lace. Don’t want to look like someone’s grandma.”
A wide-eyed Farah looked at me as I took her hand. “This is fun. We’re going to look at them all and pick our favorites. Then, you’ll try them on and narrow them down. With so many to choose from, you’re sure to find the perfect dress.”
“I just don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”
“You’re an idiot,” Bailey snorted. “Trying too hard to what?”
“You’re wearing a fucking wedding dress. You’re supposed to look fancy. It’s not like you’re ever getting married again. If things don’t work out with Coop, he’ll never let you go. Nope, you’ll be heading for a shallow grave.” While Farah rolled her eyes, I stared at Bailey who shrugged. “Too honest?
“Is that a real question?”
Bailey grinned. “What I meant to say was Farah and Cooper are so fucking perfect for each other that they’ll never get divorced, so she should wear the fanciest damn dress she can find. It’s what I would do if I was once dirt poor and now had money.”
“Great effort, but you lost a little bit of your fake niceness at the end.”
Bailey grinned. “Great effort is still something.”
“Yes, it is,” I said, taking Farah’s hand. “Let’s start narrowing things down. I’ll show you a dress and you decide if it’s too poofy or not poofy enough. We’ll eventually hit the right level of poofy.”
Farah laughed. “I want a good amount of poofy. It’s rare that a girl can be poofy without looking stupid.”
“Maddy will be poofy no matter what she wears,” Bailey said as Maddy entered with Jodi and Sawyer. “I don’t even know how she can get a bridesmaid dress if she’s going to swell up more before the wedding.” Everyone frowned at Bailey who glanced at me then back at Maddy and added, “You’re swelling with the gift of life.”
Maddy laughed. “Was that you being nice?”
“That was me trying, yes. ~ Bijou Hunter,
378:Needless to say, cooking for a man with such a delicate palate can be challenging and every once in a while I like to make something that isn't served with a glass of milk and a side of applesauce. This can be difficult with a husband with such discriminating taste buds. Difficult, but not impossible, if you're willing to lie. Which I am. During the winter months I love to make soups and one of my favorites is taco soup. It has all of the basic food groups in one bowl; meat, veggies, beans, and Fritos. It's perfection. I've been warming bodies and cleaning colons with this recipe for years. However, when I met my husband he advised he didn't like beans, so he couldn't eat taco soup. This was not the response I hoped for. I decided to make it for him anyway. The first time I did I debated whether to add beans. I knew he wouldn't eat it if I did, but I also knew the beans were what gave it the strong flavor. I decided the only way to maintain the integrity of the soup was to sacrifice mine. I lied to him about the ingredients. Because my husband is not only picky but also observant, I knew I couldn't just dump the beans into the soup undetected. Rather, I had to go incognito. For that, I implored the use of the food processor, who was happy to accommodate after sitting in the cabinet untouched for years. I dumped the cans of beans in the processor and pureed them into a paste. I then dumped the paste into the taco soup mixture, returning the food processor to the cabinet where it would sit untouched for another six months. When it came time to eat, I dished out a heaping bowl of soup and handed it to my husband. We sat down to eat and I anxiously awaited his verdict, knowing he was eating a heaping bowl of deceit. “This is delicious. What's in it?” he asked, in between mouthfuls of soup. “It's just a mixture of taco ingredients,” I innocently replied, focusing on the layer of Fritos covering my bowl. “Whatever it is, it's amazing,” he responded, quickly devouring each bite. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to slap the spoon out of his hand and yell “That's beans, bitch!” However, I refrained because I'm classy (and because I didn't want to clean up the mess). ~ Jen Mann,
379:William: What are you looking for in a woman?
Reyes: I’ve found my angel, Danika. She’s all I need.
William: Really? That’s, like, weird to me. Men should need many girls. No one girl should be so important.
Reyes: How sad for you.
William: I’m not sad. You’re sad!
Reyes: Why are you so defensive about this?
William: Let’s move on. Favorite outfit?
Reyes: First, you said girls rather than women. Why is that, I wonder? Because you care about one girl in particular? Anyway, clothes are clothes. I don’t have any favorites.
William: Go to hell. I care about no one and I’m proud to admit that! Favorite moment in the series so far?
Reyes: The first time Danika looked at me with trust and acceptance in her eyes. I’m still reeling.
William: And just so you know, girl was a slip of the tongue. Now. Least favorite moment in the series?
Reyes: Every time I had to kill Maddox.
William: Really? That would have been my favorite. Anyway, hobbies?
Reyes: Do you really have to ask? Yes? Fine. Cutting myself. I’ve started to draw shapes. Like hearts.
William: You actually admitted that aloud. [snicker]
Reyes: Happy for the first time in what seems an eternity.
William: Not that you deserve it. Really, I didn’t say girl for any particular reason. So what do you think of the fact that your home has been invaded by women?
Reyes: As long as I have Danika, I don’t care who lives with us.
William: Who do you think is the smartest Lord?
Reyes: Me. Look who I picked to spend eternity with.
William: I think you’re the dumbest! Seriously, girl was meant to encompass everyone old enough to be bedded by me. Now, if you knew you only had twenty-four hours before the Hunters found Pandora’s box and killed you, what would you do in the time you had left to live?
Reyes: Not even death can keep me away from my angel. I would find a way to change such a fate. Again.
William: What kind of underwear are you wearing?
Note from William: Bastard flipped me off and left.
Final thoughts from William: Reyes’s thoughts about me and my slip of the tongue were ridiculous and unfounded! ~ Gena Showalter,
380:At her feet, a luminous path lit the way through the grassy field. It was made entirely from glow sticks; each of the radiant lights had been painstakingly set into the ground at perfect intervals, tracing a curved trail that shone through the darkness.
Apparently, Jay had been busy.
Near the water’s edge, at the end of the iridescent pathway and beneath a stand of trees, Jay had set up more than just a picnic. He had created a retreat, an oasis for the two of them.
Violet shook her head, unable to find the words to speak.
He led her closer, and Violet followed, amazed.
Jay had hung more of the luminous glow sticks from the low-hanging branches, so they dangled overhead. They drifted and swayed in the breeze that blew up from the lake.
Beneath the natural canopy of limbs, he had set up two folding lounge chairs and covered them with pillows and blankets.
“I’d planned to use candles, but the wind would’ve blown ‘em out, so I had to improvise.”
“Seriously, Jay? This is amazing.” Violet felt awed. She couldn’t imagine how long it must have taken him.
“I’m glad you like it.”
He led her to one of the chairs and drew her down until she was sitting before he started unpacking the cooler.
She half-expected him to pull out a jar of Beluga caviar, some fancy French cheeses, and Dom Perignon champagne. Maybe even a cluster of grapes to feed to her…one at a time. So when he started laying out their picnic, Violet laughed.
Instead of expensive fish eggs and stinky cheeses, Jay had packed Daritos and chicken soft tacos-Violet’s favorites. And instead of grapes, he brought Oreos.
He knew her way too well.
Violet grinned as he pulled out two clear plastic cups and a bottle of sparkling cider. She giggled. “What? No champagne?”
He shrugged, pouring a little of the bubbling apple juice into each of the flimsy cups. “I sorta thought that a DUI might ruin the mood.” He lifted his cup and clinked-or rather, tapped-it against hers. “Cheers.” He watched her closely as she took a sip.
For several moments, they were silent. The lights swayed above them, creating shadows that danced over them. The park was peaceful, asleep, as the lake’s waters lapped the shore. Across from them, lights from the houses along the water’s edge cast rippling reflections on the shuddering surface. All of these things transformed the ordinary park into a romantic winter rendezvous. ~ Kimberly Derting,
381:I pity those reviewers above, and people like them, who ridicule authors like R.A. Boulay and other proponents of similar Ancient Astronaut theories, simply for putting forth so many interesting questions (because that's really what he often throughout openly admits is all he does does) in light of fascinating and thought-provoking references which are all from copious sources.
Some people will perhaps only read the cover and introduction and dismiss it as soon as any little bit of information flies in the face of their beliefs or normalcy biases. Some of those people, I'm sure, are some of the ones who reviewed this book so negatively without any constructive criticism or plausible rebuttal. It's sad to see how programmed and indoctrinated the vast majority of humanity has become to the ills of dogma, indoctrination, unverified status quos and basic ignorance; not to mention the laziness and conformity that results in such acquiescence and lack of critical thinking or lack of information gathering to confirm or debunk something. Too many people just take what's spoon fed to them all their lives and settle for it unquestioningly. For those people I like to offer a great Einstein quote and one of my personal favorites and that is:
"Condemnation without investigation is the highest form of ignorance"
I found this book to be a very interesting gathering of information and collection of obscure and/or remote antiquated information, i.e. biblical, sacred, mythological and otherwise, that we were not exactly taught to us in bible school, or any other public school for that matter. And I am of the school of thought that has been so for intended purposes.
The author clearly cites all his fascinating sources and cross-references them rather plausibly. He organizes the information in a sequential manner that piques ones interest even as he jumps from one set of information to the next. The information, although eclectic as it spans from different cultures and time periods, interestingly ties together in several respects and it is this synchronicity that makes the information all the more remarkable.
For those of you who continue to seek truth and enlightenment because you understand that an open mind makes for and lifelong pursuit of such things I leave you with these Socrates quotes:
"True wisdom comes to each of us when we realize how little we understand about life, ourselves, and the world around us. ~ Socrates,
382:Ildiko shuddered. Her hope to never again see or eat the Kai’s most beloved and revolting delicacy had been in vain. When Brishen informed her that the dish was one of Serovek’s favorites, she resigned herself to another culinary battle with her food and put the scarpatine on the menu. She ordered roasted potatoes as well, much to the head cook’s disgust.
When servants brought out the food and set it on the table, Brishen leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Revenge, wife?”
“Hardly,” she replied, keeping a wary eye on the pie closest to her. The golden top crust, with its sprinkle of sparkling salt, pitched in a lazy undulation. “But I’m starving, and I have no intention of filling up on that abomination.”
Their guest of honor didn’t share their dislike of either food. As deft as any Kai, Serovek made short work of the scarpatine and its whipping tail, cleaved open the shell with his knife and took a generous bite of the steaming gray meat.
Ildiko’s stomach heaved. She forgot her nausea when Serovek complimented her. “An excellent choice to pair the scarpatine with the potato, Your Highness. They are better together than apart.”
Beside her, Brishen choked into his goblet. He wiped his mouth with his sanap. “What a waste of good scarpatine,” he muttered under his breath.
What a waste of a nice potato, she thought. However, the more she thought on Serovek’s remark, the more her amusement grew.
“And what has you smiling so brightly?” Brishen stared at her, his lambent eyes glowing nearly white in the hall’s torchlight.
She glanced at Serovek, happily cleaning his plate and shooting the occasional glance at Anhuset nearby. Brishen’s cousin refused to meet his gaze, but Ildiko had caught the woman watching the Beladine lord more than a few times during dinner.
“That’s us, you know,” she said.
“What is us?”
“The scarpatine and the potato. Better together than alone. At least I think so.”
One of Brishen’s eyebrows slid upward. “I thought we were hag and dead eel. I think I like those comparisons more.” He shoved his barely-touched potato to the edge of his plate with his knife tip, upper lip curled in revulsion to reveal a gleaming white fang.
Ildiko laughed and stabbed a piece of the potato off his plate. She popped it into her mouth and chewed with gusto, eager to blunt the taste of scarpatine still lingering on her tongue. ~ Grace Draven,
383:Soon, droves of children start to show up, keeping us rather busy. We start tallying up the number of Trolls, Batmans, Lego men, and princesses we see. The most popular costume? Batman and Superwoman with the fabrics and accessories varying from child to child. But my favorite so far is the girl who dressed as Little Debbie, but then again, I may be biased.
“I think she might be my new favorite,” Emma says as a little girl dressed as a nurse walks away.
“That’s because you’re a nurse, but you can’t play favorites,” I say, reminding Emma of the rules.
She levels with me. “This coming from the guy whose favorite child was dressed as Little Debbie.”
“Come on.” I lean back in my chair and motion to my head. “She had the rim of blue on her hat. That’s attention to detail.”
“And good fucking parenting,” Tucker chimes in, and we clink our beer bottles together.
Amelia chuckles next to me as Emma shakes her head. “Ridiculous. What about you, Amelia? What costume has been your favorite so far?”
“Hmm, it’s been a tough competition. There has been some real winning costumes and some absolute piss-poor ones.” She shakes her head. “Just because you put a scarf around your neck and call yourself Jack Frost doesn’t mean you dressed up.”
“Ugh, that costume was dumb.”
“It shouldn’t be referred to as a costume, but that’s beside the point.” I like how much Amelia is getting into this little pretend competition. She’s a far cry from the girl who first came home earlier. I love that having Tucker and Emma over has given me more time with Amelia, getting to know the woman she is today, but also managed to put that beautiful smile back on her face.
“So who takes the cake for you?” I ask, nudging her leg with mine.
Smiling up at me, she says, “Hands down it’s the little boy who dressed as Dwight Schrute from The Office. I think I giggled for five minutes straight after he left. That costume was spot on.”
“Oh shit, you’re right,” I reply as Emma and Tucker agree with me. “He even had the watch calculator.”
“And the small nose Dwight always complains about.” Emma chuckles. “Yeah, he has to be the winner.”
“Now, now, now, let’s not get too hasty. Little Debbie is still in the running,” Tucker points out.
Amelia leans forward, seeming incredibly comfortable, and says, “There is no way Little Debbie beats Dwight. Sorry, dude.”
The shocked look on Tucker’s face is comical. He’s just been put in his place and the old Amelia has returned.
I fucking love it. ~ Meghan Quinn,
384:i. You’re in fourth grade and it’s autumn and your teacher is handing out catalogs, bright yellow paper pamphlets that crinkle like autumn leaves. You are ravenous, willing the ink to manifest itself into something palpable, pages and pages of words for you to consume, bright covers binding stories of people and places and things you’ve never encountered. The other students shove their already-crumpled copies into their Take-Home folders.
ii. You’re in fourth grade and it’s winter and last night the books tumbled off your shelf like the falling snow outside, swelling and piling and overtaking everything—too much stuff, no place to put it all. Your favorite subject in school is Reading, and you can’t understand why no one else seems quite as delighted. It’s all made-up, see? you tell them, even the real stuff. They stare at you, bewildered, as you skip ahead in the enormous anthology of short stories, anxious to find something else that satisfies, trying to ignore the bored mumbles of the two boys next to you. Your other favorite subject is Silent Reading.
iii. You’re in fourth grade and it’s spring which means chirping birds and blooming flowers and it’s old news, really, because every time you crack the spine on a new stack of yellowed pages you feel reborn. Your teacher says there won’t be Reading today, there’s something special instead, and your heart sinks as she leads the murmuring class down to the gym, light-up sneakers squeaking on the scuffed tiles. You get there and it’s not the gym, it’s Eden, shelves and shelves of vibrant covers vying for your attention. You’re torn between shoving your old, well-loved favorites under the noses of your disinterested friends and searching for new words to devour. You’re a prospector sifting for riches in the middle of the GOLD Rush, you’re a miner in a cave, you run the titles over your tongue like lollipops, wishing you could just swallow them whole.
iv. You’ve finished fourth grade and it’s summer and you giggle when you get the letter in the mail reminding all students to finish one book by the end of break. You already finished one book the first day of vacation, and another the day after that. You still can’t understand why nobody else seems to get it—reading is not a hobby or a chore or a subject, it’s a lifestyle, a method of transportation, a communication that speaks directly to the soul. You decide that the only option is to become a writer when you grow up, and write a book that will fill the parts of people they didn’t even know were empty. You will write a book that they will want to read, and then they will understand. ~ Anonymous,
385:I’m sorry, but you didn’t make me promise not to worry.”
With a big sigh, Jenna said, “Okay, but after this, you have to promise that, too.”
“Deal,” Sara said, smirking.
After seeing how much and how violently Jenna had been sick not all that many hours ago, Easy was sympathetic to Sara’s worrying.“I’ll clean up this stuff and give you all some privacy,” he said, reaching for the tray.
“Thanks for getting dinner for us, Easy,” Jenna said. She looked at him with such gratitude and affection that it both set off a warm pressure in his chest and made him self-conscious—because he was acutely aware that Sara was observing them. She had to know that something was going on. Given how little he thought of himself sometimes, it wasn’t a big leap to imagine others would think the same. Just because Sara had seemed appreciative that he’d helped Jenna didn’t mean she’d approve of anything more.
“You know, you set off a milk-shake-making party,” Becca said.
Sara laughed. “Yeah. Shane made us shakes, then we took them over to the gym, and Nick was all jealous he didn’t have one.”
Grinning, Becca rolled her eyes. “Which was hilarious because he didn’t even know they owned a blender.”
Easy stood. “Well, I guess I’m glad I could provide such a valuable service.” He winked and looked at Jenna. “Need anything else while I’m downstairs?”
Smiling, she shook her head. “Don’t think so, but thanks.”
Easy made his way out of the room and back down to the Rixeys’, where he found all the guys in front of the big flat-screen TV—Nick and Marz kicking back in the recliners, Beckett and Shane sprawled on one couch, and Jeremy and Charlie on the other, with Eileen between them. It was dark in the room except for the flickering light of the screen.
A round of greetings rose to meet him.
“Sexual Chocolate!” Marz yelled over the others.
Easy couldn’t help but smile as his gaze settled on the television, where the classic Eddie Murphy movie Coming to America was playing. One of Easy’s all-time favorites. He placed the tray on the counter, then turned and held his hands out. “Good morning, my neighbors!” he said, mimicking one of the prince’s lines.
Right on cue, Marz said in a thick New York accent, “Hey, fuck you!”
Easy could quote this movie all day. “Yes, yes! Fuck you, too!”
The guys all chuckled, and Easy leaned his butt against the arm of the couch next to Jeremy and got sucked into the movie. Jeremy and Charlie made room for him, and it felt damn good to be with the guys. Not working, not stressed, not under fire. Just kicking back and shooting the shit. ~ Laura Kaye,
386:We've been here three days already, and I've yet to cook a single meal. The night we arrived, my dad ordered Chinese takeout from the old Cantonese restaurant around the corner, where they still serve the best egg foo yung, light and fluffy and swimming in rich, brown gravy. Then there had been Mineo's pizza and corned beef sandwiches from the kosher deli on Murray, all my childhood favorites. But last night I'd fallen asleep reading Arthur Schwartz's Naples at Table and had dreamed of pizza rustica, so when I awoke early on Saturday morning with a powerful craving for Italian peasant food, I decided to go shopping. Besides, I don't ever really feel at home anywhere until I've cooked a meal.
The Strip is down by the Allegheny River, a five- or six-block stretch filled with produce markets, old-fashioned butcher shops, fishmongers, cheese shops, flower stalls, and a shop that sells coffee that's been roasted on the premises. It used to be, and perhaps still is, where chefs pick up their produce and order cheeses, meats, and fish. The side streets and alleys are littered with moldering vegetables, fruits, and discarded lettuce leaves, and the smell in places is vaguely unpleasant. There are lots of beautiful, old warehouse buildings, brick with lovely arched windows, some of which are now, to my surprise, being converted into trendy loft apartments.
If you're a restaurateur you get here early, four or five in the morning. Around seven or eight o'clock, home cooks, tourists, and various passers-through begin to clog the Strip, aggressively vying for the precious few available parking spaces, not to mention tables at Pamela's, a retro diner that serves the best hotcakes in Pittsburgh.
On weekends, street vendors crowd the sidewalks, selling beaded necklaces, used CDs, bandanas in exotic colors, cheap, plastic running shoes, and Steelers paraphernalia by the ton. It's a loud, jostling, carnivalesque experience and one of the best things about Pittsburgh. There's even a bakery called Bruno's that sells only biscotti- at least fifteen different varieties daily. Bruno used to be an accountant until he retired from Mellon Bank at the age of sixty-five to bake biscotti full-time. There's a little hand-scrawled sign in the front of window that says, GET IN HERE! You can't pass it without smiling.
It's a little after eight when Chloe and I finish up at the Pennsylvania Macaroni Company where, in addition to the prosciutto, soppressata, both hot and sweet sausages, fresh ricotta, mozzarella, and imported Parmigiano Reggiano, all essential ingredients for pizza rustica, I've also picked up a couple of cans of San Marzano tomatoes, which I happily note are thirty-nine cents cheaper here than in New York. ~ Meredith Mileti,
387:So Lisa as your matron of honor and Stephanie as bridesmaid,” Cat was saying. “Do you know who Sean wants as best man?”
“No. We haven’t gotten that far yet.” He didn’t hear any tension in Emma’s voice, but he guessed she was feeling it. Planning a wedding that wasn’t going to happen was weird, to say the least.
“Maybe we could ask Mike’s oldest son—Joey, right?—to be a groomsman so he can escort Stephanie.”
“I don’t know,” Emma said. “I don’t think it’s very fair to ask one of the boys and not the others.”
“True. Maybe they could be ushers and then join their parents once everybody’s seated.”
Sean had just decided to beat a fast retreat back to the living room, when he heard a chair scrape back.
“We can talk about that later, Gram. Right now I should go wake Sean so he’s not still groggy when we ask him to fire up the grill.”
He didn’t have time to escape, so he leaned against the counter and twisted the top of his beer. Emma paused when she saw him, and then grabbed his hand and dragged him down the hall to the living room.
“Where did you disappear to?” he asked.
“What? Oh, a client had an emergency. But—”
“There are gardening emergencies?”
She blew out an exasperated breath. “Yes. When you’re rich, everything’s an emergency. But did you hear what Gram was saying?”
“Yeah. How the hell are guys supposed to pick a best man, anyway? I’ve got three brothers and I like them all. And what about Mikey? Or Kevin or Joe? It seems easier to pick a stranger off the street so you don’t have to play favorites. I guess maybe I’d ask Mitch. He’s the oldest, so most of what the rest of us know about catching a woman we learned from him.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, you haven’t actually caught a woman yet. And it doesn’t really matter who you choose, because there is no wedding.”
She was wound up like an eight-day clock, so he didn’t dare laugh at her. Her cheeks were bright and she kept spinning her ring around and around on her finger. Since there was nothing he could say to make her feel better about Cat wanting to plan their fake wedding, he slid the hand not holding his beer around her waist and hauled her close.
“You worry too much,” he told her.
He kissed her to shut her up. And because all he’d been able to think about since the last time he’d had his hands on her was getting his hands on her again. And, most of all, because he liked kissing her. A lot. Maybe too much, if he thought about it.
So he didn’t think about it. Instead, he lost himself in the taste of her mouth and the softness of her lips and the way her hands slid over his lower back, holding him close.
“Oh,” Cat said from behind him. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“No,” Emma said. “We were just…talking.”
“I can see that. ~ Shannon Stacey,
388:The New Yorker (The New Yorker) - Clip This Article on Location 1510 | Added on Wednesday, June 10, 2015 5:42:23 PM FICTION THE DUNIAZáT BY SALMAN RUSHDIE In the year 1195, the great philosopher Ibn Rushd, once the qadi , or judge, of Seville and most recently the personal physician to the Caliph Abu Yusuf Yaqub in his home town of Córdoba, was formally discredited and disgraced on account of his liberal ideas, which were unacceptable to the increasingly powerful Berber fanatics who were spreading like a pestilence across Arab Spain, and was sent to live in internal exile in the small village of Lucena, a village full of Jews who could no longer say they were Jews because they had been forced to convert to Islam. Ibn Rushd, a philosopher who was no longer permitted to expound his philosophy, all of whose writing had been banned and burned, felt instantly at home among the Jews who could not say they were Jews. He had been a favorite of the Caliph of the present ruling dynasty, the Almohads, but favorites go out of fashion, and Abu Yusuf Yaqub had allowed the fanatics to push the great commentator on Aristotle out of town. The philosopher who could not speak his philosophy lived on a narrow unpaved street in a humble house with small windows and was terribly oppressed by the absence of light. He set up a medical practice in Lucena, and his status as the ex-physician of the Caliph himself brought him patients; in addition, he used what assets he had to enter modestly into the horse trade, and also financed the making of tinajas , the large earthenware vessels, in which the Jews who were no longer Jews stored and sold olive oil and wine. One day soon after the beginning of his exile, a girl of perhaps sixteen summers appeared outside his door, smiling gently, not knocking or intruding on his thoughts in any way, and simply stood there waiting patiently until he became aware of her presence and invited her in. She told him that she was newly orphaned, that she had no source of income, but preferred not to work in the whorehouse, and that her name was Dunia, which did not sound like a Jewish name because she was not allowed to speak her Jewish name, and, because she was illiterate, she could not write it down. She told him that a traveller had suggested the name and said it was Greek and meant “the world,” and she had liked that idea. Ibn Rushd, the translator of Aristotle, did not quibble with her, knowing that it meant “the world” in enough tongues to make pedantry unnecessary. “Why have you named yourself after the world?” he asked her, and she replied, looking him in the eye as she spoke, “Because a world will flow from me and those who flow from me will spread across the world.” Being a man of reason, Ibn Rushd did not guess that the girl was a supernatural creature, a jinnia, of the tribe of female jinn: a grand princess of that tribe, on an earthly adventure, pursuing her fascination with human men in general and brilliant ones in particular. ~ Anonymous,
389:Favorites Of Pan
Once, long ago, before the gods
Had left this earth, by stream and forest glade,
Where the first plough upturned the clinging sods,
Or the lost shepherd strayed,
Often to the tired listener's ear
There came at noonday or beneath the stars
A sound, he knew not whence, so sweet and clear,
That all his aches and scars
And every brooded bitterness,
Fallen asunder from his soul took flight,
Like mist or darkness yielding to the press
Of an unnamed delight,A sudden brightness of the heart,
A magic fire drawn down from Paradise,
That rent the cloud with golden gleam apart,And far before his eyes
The loveliness and calm of earth
Lay like a limitless dream remote and strange,
The joy, the strife, the triumph and the mirth,
And the enchanted change;
And so he followed the sweet sound,
Till faith had traversed her appointed span,
And murmured as he pressed the sacred ground:
'It is the note of Pan!'
Now though no more by marsh or stream
Or dewy forest sounds the secret reedFor Pan is gone-Ah yet, the infinite dream
Still lives for them that heed.
In April, when the turning year
Regains its pensive youth, and a soft breath
And amorous influence over marsh and mere
Dissolves the grasp of death,
To them that are in love with life,
Wandering like children with untroubled eyes,
Far from the noise of cities and the strife,
Strange flute-like voices rise
At noon and in the quiet of the night
From every watery waste; and in that hour
The same strange spell, the same unnamed delight,
Enfolds them in its power.
An old-world joyousness supreme,
The warmth and glow of an immortal balm,
The mood-touch of the gods, the endless dream,
The high lethean calm.
They see, wide on the eternal way,
The services of earth, the life of man;
And, listening to the magic cry they say:
'It is the note of Pan!'
For, long ago, when the new strains
Of hostile hymns and conquering faiths grew keen,
And the old gods from their deserted fanes,
Fled silent and unseen,
So, too, the goat-foot Pan, not less
Sadly obedient to the mightier hand,
Cut him new reeds, and in a sore distress
Passed out from land to land;
And lingering by each haunt he knew,
Of fount or sinuous stream or grassy marge,
He set the syrinx to his lips, and blew
A note divinely large;
And all around him on the wet
Cool earth the frogs came up, and with a smile
He took them in his hairy hands, and set
His mouth to theirs awhile,
And blew into their velvet throats;
And ever from that hour the frogs repeat
The murmur of Pan's pipes, the notes,
And answers strange and sweet;
And they that hear them are renewed
By knowledge in some god-like touch conveyed,
Entering again into the eternal mood,
Wherein the world was made.
~ Archibald Lampman,
MARGARITA first possest,
If I remember well, my brest,
Margarita first of all;
But when awhile the wanton maid
With my restless heart had play'd,
Martha took the flying ball.
Martha soon did it resign
To the beauteous Catharine.
Beauteous Catharine gave place
(Though loth and angry she to part
With the possession of my heart)
To Eliza's conquering face.
Eliza till this hour might reign,
Had she not evil counsels ta'en.
Fundamental laws she broke,
And still new favorites she chose,
Till up in arms my passions rose,
And cast away her yoke.
Mary then, and gentle Anne,
Both to reign at once began;
Alternately they sway'd;
And sometimes Mary was the fair,
And sometimes Anne the Crown did wear,
And sometimes both I obey'd.
Another Mary then arose
And did rigorous laws impose;
A mighty tyrant she!
Long, alas! should I have been
Under that iron-scepter'd queen,
Had not Rebecca set me free.
When fair Rebecca set me free,
'Twas then a golden time with me:
But soon those pleasures fled;
For the gracious princess dy'd,
In her youth and beauty's pride,
And Judith reigned in her stead.
One month, three days, and half an hour,
Judith held the soveraign power:
Wondrous beautiful her face!
But so weak and small her wit,
That she to govern was unfit,
And so Susanna took her place.
But when Isabella came,
Arm'd with a resistless flame,
And th' artillery of her eye;
Whilst she proudly march'd about,
Greater conquests to find out,
She beat out Susan by the bye.
But in her place I then obey'd
Black-ey'd Bess, her viceroy-maid;
To whom ensu'd a vacancy:
Thousand worse passions than possest
The interregnum of my breast;
Bless me from such an anarchy!
Gentle Henriette then,
And a third Mary, next began;
Then Joan, and Jane, and Audria;
And then a pretty Thomasine,
And then another Katharine,
And then a long et cætera.
But should I now to you relate,
The strength and riches of their state;
The powder, patches, and the pins,
The ribbons, jewels, and the rings,
The lace, the paint, and warlike things,
That make up all their magazines;
If I should tell the politic arts
To take and keep men's hearts;
The letters, embassies, and spies,
The frowns, and smiles, and flatteries,
The quarrels, tears, and perjuries
(Numberless, nameless, mysteries!)
And all the little lime-twigs laid,
By Machiavel the waiting-maid;
I more voluminous should grow
(Chiefly if I like them should tell
All change of weathers that befell)
Than Holinshed or Stow.
But I will briefer with them be,
Since few of them were long with me.
An higher and a nobler strain
My present Emperess does claim,
Heleonora, first o' th' name;
Whom God grant long to reign!
~ Abraham Cowley,
391:He had a rough idea where he was going, since Rylann had previously mentioned that she lived in Roscoe Village. At the stoplight at Belmont Avenue, he pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through his contacts. The beauty of text messaging, he realized, was in its simplicity. He didn’t have to try to explain things, nor did he have to attempt to parse through all the banter in an attempt to figure out what she might be thinking. Instead, he could keep things short and sweet.
I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU.
He hit send.
To kill time while he waited for her response, he drove in the direction of his sister’s wine shop, figuring he could always drop in and harass Jordan about something.
This time, however, she beat him to the punch.
“So who’s the brunette bombshell?” Jordan asked as soon as he walked into the shop and took a seat at the main bar.
Damn. He’d forgotten about the stupid Scene and Heard column. Kyle helped himself to a cracker and some Brie cheese sitting on the bar. “I’m going to say…Angelina Jolie. Actually, no—Megan Fox.”
“Megan Fox is, like, twenty-five.”
“And this is a problem why, exactly?”
Jordan slapped his hand as he reached for more crackers. “Those are for customers.” She put her hand on her hip. “You know, after reading the Scene and Heard column, I’d kind of hoped it was Rylann they were talking about. And that maybe, just maybe, my ne’er-do-well twin had decided to stop playing around and finally pursue a woman of quality.”
He stole another cracker. “Now, that would be something.”
She shook her head. “Why do I bother? You know, one day you’re going to wake up and…”
Kyle’s cell phone buzzed, and he tuned out the rest of Jordan’s lecture—he could probably repeat the whole thing word for word by now—as he checked the incoming message. It was from Rylann, her response as short and sweet as his original text.
3418 CORNELIA, #3.
He had her address.
With a smile, he looked up and interrupted his sister. “That’s great, Jordo. Hey, by any chance do you have any bottles of that India Ink cabernet lying around?”
She stopped midrant and stared at him. “I’m sure I do. Why, what made you think of that?” Then her face broke into a wide grin. “Wait a second…that was the wine Rylann talked about when she was here. She said it was one of her favorites.”
“Did she? Funny coincidence.”
Jordan put her hand over her heart. “Oh my God, you’re trying to impress her. That is so cute.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kyle scoffed. “I just thought, since I’ve heard such good things about the wine, that I would give it a shot.”
Jordan gave him a look, cutting through all the bullshit. “Kyle. She’s going to love it.”
Okay, whatever. Maybe he was trying to impress Rylann a little. “You don’t think it’s too much? Like I’m trying too hard?”
Jordan put her hand over her heart again. “Oh. It’s like watching Bambi take his first steps.”
“Jordo…” he growled warningly.
With a smile, she put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed affectionately. “It’s perfect. Trust me. ~ Julie James,
392:What does he have planned?”
“He said it was a surprise, but apparently it includes all my favorites things about the city.”
“That’s cute. Maybe it’ll be the refresher you guys need. It’s hard being apart for so long, especially when there is a super-hot ex-boyfriend living next to you.”
I give her a pointed look.
“And speak of the devil. Look whose truck just pulled into the driveway.” Amanda puts her drink on the coffee table and crawls on top of me, her knees digging into my stomach as she tries to catch a view of Aaron.
“Will you please get off me?”
“I want to see what he looks like. I want to see these muscles you speak of.” Amanda reaches the window, but I yank on her body so she can’t sneak a peek. “Hey, stop that, I can’t see.”
“Exactly. He’ll catch you looking, and I don’t want him thinking it’s me.”
“Don’t be paranoid. He won’t think that. Now let me catch a glimpse.” Pushing down on my head, trying to climb over me, she reaches for the blinds, but I hold strong and grip her around the waist, using my legs to hold her down as well. “Stop it.” She swats at my head. “Just a little looksy.”
“No, he’ll see you.”
We still, our heads snapping to the front door.
“Is someone at the door?” Amanda whispers, one of her hands holding on to my ponytail.
“That’s what a knock usually means,” I whisper back.
“Is it him?”
“I have no idea.” I hold still, trying not to move in case the person on the other side of the door can hear us.
“Answer it,” Amanda scolds.
“Because if it’s Aaron, I don’t want you anywhere near him. You’ll embarrass me, I know it.”
Amanda scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She pushes off me, her hand palming my face for a brief second. “I’ll answer the door.” When she places one of her feet on the floor, I hold her in place.
“Oh no, you don’t. You’re not answering that door. Just be still, the person will go away.”
“You’re being rude,” Amanda says as she plows her elbow into my thigh, causing me to buckle over in pain. She frees herself from my grip and rushes to the door. Right before she opens it, she fluffs her hair. You’ve got to be kidding me.
I don’t even have to ask if it’s Aaron because that’s just my luck. Also, Amanda makes a low whistle sound when she opens the door.
“Amanda?” Aaron’s voice floats into my house.
“Aaron Walters, look . . . at . . . you.” I sit up just in time to see Amanda give him a very slow once-over. “You were right, Amelia, he has gotten sexier.”
I hop off the couch, limping ever so slightly from the dead leg Amanda gave me. “I didn’t say that.”
Amanda waves her hand. “It was in the realm of that. Come in, come in. We need to catch up.” Amanda wraps her hand around Aaron’s arm and pulls him into the house. When she passes me, she winks and squeezes his arm while mouthing, “He’s huge.”
I shut the door behind them and bang my head on it a few times before joining them in the living room. I knew Amanda’s visit was going to be interesting ~ Meghan Quinn,
393:In opting for large scale, Korean state planners got much of what they bargained for. Korean companies today compete globally with the Americans and Japanese in highly capital-intensive sectors like semiconductors, aerospace, consumer electronics, and automobiles, where they are far ahead of most Taiwanese or Hong Kong companies. Unlike Southeast Asia, the Koreans have moved into these sectors not primarily through joint ventures where the foreign partner has provided a turnkey assembly plant but through their own indigenous organizations. So successful have the Koreans been that many Japanese companies feel relentlessly dogged by Korean competitors in areas like semiconductors and steel. The chief advantage that large-scale chaebol organizations would appear to provide is the ability of the group to enter new industries and to ramp up to efficient production quickly through the exploitation of economies of scope.70 Does this mean, then, that cultural factors like social capital and spontaneous sociability are not, in the end, all that important, since a state can intervene to fill the gap left by culture? The answer is no, for several reasons. In the first place, not every state is culturally competent to run as effective an industrial policy as Korea is. The massive subsidies and benefits handed out to Korean corporations over the years could instead have led to enormous abuse, corruption, and misallocation of investment funds. Had President Park and his economic bureaucrats been subject to political pressures to do what was expedient rather than what they believed was economically beneficial, if they had not been as export oriented, or if they had simply been more consumption oriented and corrupt, Korea today would probably look much more like the Philippines. The Korean economic and political scene was in fact closer to that of the Philippines under Syngman Rhee in the 1950s. Park Chung Hee, for all his faults, led a disciplined and spartan personal lifestyle and had a clear vision of where he wanted the country to go economically. He played favorites and tolerated a considerable degree of corruption, but all within reasonable bounds by the standards of other developing countries. He did not waste money personally and kept the business elite from putting their resources into Swiss villas and long vacations on the Riviera.71 Park was a dictator who established a nasty authoritarian political system, but as an economic leader he did much better. The same power over the economy in different hands could have led to disaster. There are other economic drawbacks to state promotion of large-scale industry. The most common critique made by market-oriented economists is that because the investment was government rather than market driven, South Korea has acquired a series of white elephant industries such as shipbuilding, petrochemicals, and heavy manufacturing. In an age that rewards downsizing and nimbleness, the Koreans have created a series of centralized and inflexible corporations that will gradually lose their low-wage competitive edge. Some cite Taiwan’s somewhat higher overall rate of economic growth in the postwar period as evidence of the superior efficiency of a smaller, more competitive industrial structure. ~ Francis Fukuyama,
394:He put one of the platters in front of Liv, forcing her to get up-close and personal with his dinner creation. It looked even worse on her plate than it had from a distance. Liv was glad she had a strong stomach. She’d seen some fairly disgusting things during nursing school, especially during her surgery rotation and in the burn unit, but none of them were quite as nasty as Baird’s “pizza.” “Well, go ahead. I thought you were starving.” She looked up to see him watching her, black eyebrows raised in anticipation. Oh my God, I’m actually going to have to eat it! Her stomach rolled at the thought. “You, uh, gave me so much I don’t know where to begin,” she lied weakly. “Only one piece.” He frowned. “Is it too much?” “It’s just a little more than I’m used to. Uh, on Earth we cut a pizza into eight or ten wedges.” And we don’t top it with fruit cocktail! “I can cut it into smaller pieces if you want,” he offered. “No, no. That’s okay. I’ll make do.” There was no putting it off anymore. Taking a deep breath, Liv lifted the huge sloppy slice and forced herself to take a bite. “You like it?” Baird stared at her suspiciously. “Mmm, delicious,” Liv mumbled, fighting her gag reflex. Inside her mouth the flavors of canned salmon, lima beans, and fruit cocktail were fighting and she wondered how in the world she would swallow without throwing up. But the big warrior was still watching her carefully for her reaction and she didn’t want to insult him. With a monumental effort she choked down the mess and prayed it wouldn’t come back up. “So it’s good?” he asked again. “Unforgettable,” Liv assured him which for once was the absolute truth. “Glad you like it.” Baird lifted his own piece of pizza and, keeping his eyes on her the entire time, took a huge bite. But when he started to chew, his face turned a peculiar shade of red. “Gods!” Getting up from the table in a hurry, he ran to the sink and spat out the mouthful. Then he turned back to Liv. “That was fuckin’ horrible. Why didn’t you tell me?” Liv shrugged, not sure if she should laugh or feel sorry for him. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” “I’d rather have my feelings hurt than eat that slop.” Baird frowned. “I don’t understand what you humans see in that dish anyway.” “Well…” Liv tried to think of a way to put it tactfully. “We don’t always make it exactly like that.” She nodded at the half a pizza she’d put back down on the metal serving tray. “But I did everything the clerk told me to,” Baird protested. “He said it was mistake proof. That anyone could do it.” “Anyone can do it. You just put a little too much on it, that’s all.” “Damn it to hell.” Baird sighed. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I wanted to make all your favorites—the things I saw you eating in my dreams. It was between this and that other stuff you like with the raw sea creatures rolled in the white grains. I thought this would be easier.” “Sushi?” Liv bit her lip to keep from laughing. “You were going to try and make me sushi?” As badly as he’d screwed up the pizza, she couldn’t imagine what his version of sushi would look like. Visions of a whole dead fish coated in sticky rice and rolled in peas and carrots instead of roe rose to mind. Ugh. Baird shrugged. “I wanted to. I wanted to make you something special every night. But I guess I’m not very good at cooking human food. Sorry.” He sounded so crestfallen and his broad shoulders slumped so sadly that Liv couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. She rose and went to put a hand lightly on his arm. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m sure if I tried to make Kindred cuisine I wouldn’t do any better.” Baird ~ Evangeline Anderson,
395:We came to the city because we wished to live haphazardly, to reach for only the least realistic of our desires, and to see if we could not learn what our failures had to teach, and not, when we came to live, discover that we had never died. We wanted to dig deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to be overworked and reduced to our last wit. And if our bosses proved mean, why then we’d evoke their whole and genuine meanness afterward over vodka cranberries and small batch bourbons. And if our drinking companions proved to be sublime then we would stagger home at dawn over the Old City cobblestones, into hot showers and clean shirts, and press onward until dusk fell again. For the rest of the world, it seemed to us, had somewhat hastily concluded that it was the chief end of man to thank God it was Friday and pray that Netflix would never forsake them.
Still we lived frantically, like hummingbirds; though our HR departments told us that our commitments were valuable and our feedback was appreciated, our raises would be held back another year. Like gnats we pestered Management— who didn’t know how to use the Internet, whose only use for us was to set up Facebook accounts so they could spy on their children, or to sync their iPhones to their Outlooks, or to explain what tweets were and more importantly, why— which even we didn’t know. Retire! we wanted to shout. We ha Get out of the way with your big thumbs and your senior moments and your nostalgia for 1976! We hated them; we wanted them to love us. We wanted to be them; we wanted to never, ever become them.
Complexity, complexity, complexity! We said let our affairs be endless and convoluted; let our bank accounts be overdrawn and our benefits be reduced. Take our Social Security contributions and let it go bankrupt. We’d been bankrupt since we’d left home: we’d secure our own society. Retirement was an afterlife we didn’t believe in and that we expected yesterday. Instead of three meals a day, we’d drink coffee for breakfast and scavenge from empty conference rooms for lunch. We had plans for dinner. We’d go out and buy gummy pad thai and throat-scorching chicken vindaloo and bento boxes in chintzy, dark restaurants that were always about to go out of business. Those who were a little flush would cover those who were a little short, and we would promise them coffees in repayment. We still owed someone for a movie ticket last summer; they hadn’t forgotten. Complexity, complexity.
In holiday seasons we gave each other spider plants in badly decoupaged pots and scarves we’d just learned how to knit and cuff links purchased with employee discounts. We followed the instructions on food and wine Web sites, but our soufflés sank and our baked bries burned and our basil ice creams froze solid. We called our mothers to get recipes for old favorites, but they never came out the same. We missed our families; we were sad to be rid of them.
Why shouldn’t we live with such hurry and waste of life? We were determined to be starved before we were hungry. We were determined to be starved before we were hungry. We were determined to decrypt our neighbors’ Wi-Fi passwords and to never turn on the air-conditioning. We vowed to fall in love: headboard-clutching, desperate-texting, hearts-in-esophagi love. On the subways and at the park and on our fire escapes and in the break rooms, we turned pages, resolved to get to the ends of whatever we were reading. A couple of minutes were the day’s most valuable commodity. If only we could make more time, more money, more patience; have better sex, better coffee, boots that didn’t leak, umbrellas that didn’t involute at the slightest gust of wind. We were determined to make stupid bets. We were determined to be promoted or else to set the building on fire on our way out. We were determined to be out of our minds. ~ Kristopher Jansma,
396:Elegy: Walking the Line
Every month or so, Sundays, we walked the line,
The limit and the boundary. Past the sweet gum
Superb above the cabin, along the wall—
Stones gathered from the level field nearby
When first we cleared it. (Angry bumblebees
Stung the two mules. They kicked. Thirteen, I ran.)
And then the field: thread-leaf maple, deciduous
Magnolia, hybrid broom, and, further down,
In light shade, one Franklinia Alatamaha
In solstice bloom, all white, most graciously.
On the sunnier slope, the wild plums that my mother
Later would make preserves of, to give to friends
Or sell, in autumn, with the foxgrape, quince,
Elderberry, and muscadine. Around
The granite overhang, moist den of foxes;
Gradually up a long hill, high in pine,
Park-like, years of dry needles on the ground,
And dogwood, slopes the settlers terraced; pine
We cut at Christmas, berries, hollies, anise,
And cones for sale in Mister Haymore's yard
In town, below the Courthouse Square. James Haymore,
One of the two good teachers at Boys' High,
Ironic and demanding, chemistry;
Mary Lou Culver taught us English: essays,
Plot summaries, outlines, meters, kinds of clauses
(Noun, adjective, and adverb, five at a time),
Written each day and then revised, and she
Up half the night to read them once again
Through her pince-nez, under a single lamp.
Across the road, on a steeper hill, the settlers
Set a house, unpainted, the porch fallen in,
The road a red clay strip without a bridge,
A shallow stream that liked to overflow.
Oliver Brand's mules pulled our station wagon
Out of the gluey mire, earth's rust. Then, here
And there, back from the road, the specimen
Shrubs and small trees my father planted, some
Taller than we were, some in bloom, some berried,
And some we still brought water to. We always
Paused at the weed-filled hole beside the beech
That, one year, brought forth beech nuts by the thousands,
A hole still reminiscent of the man
Chewing tobacco in among his whiskers
My father happened on, who, discovered, told
Of dreaming he should dig there for the gold
And promised to give half of what he found.
During the wars with Germany and Japan,
Descendents of the settlers, of Oliver Brand
And of that man built Flying Fortresses
For Lockheed, in Atlanta; now they build
Brick mansions in the woods they left, with lawns
To paved and lighted streets, azaleas, camellias
Blooming among the pines and tulip trees—
Mercedes Benz and Cadillac Republicans.
There was another stream further along
Divided through a marsh, lined by the fence
We stretched to posts with Mister Garner's help
The time he needed cash for his son's bail
And offered all his place. A noble spring
Under the oak root cooled his milk and butter.
He called me "honey," working with us there
(My father bought three acres as a gift),
His wife pale, hair a country orange, voice
Uncanny, like a ghost's, through the open door
Behind her, chickens scratching on the floor.
Barred Rocks, our chickens; one, a rooster, splendid
Sliver and grey, red comb and long sharp spurs,
Once chased Aunt Jennie as far as the daphne bed
The two big king snakes were familiars of.
My father's dog would challenge him sometimes
To laughter and applause. Once, in Stone Mountain,
Travelers, stopped for gas, drove off with Smokey;
Angrily, grievingly, leaving his work, my father
Traced the car and found them way far south,
Had them arrested and, bringing Smokey home,
Was proud as Sherlock Holmes, and happier.
Above the spring, my sister's cats, black Amy,
Grey Junior, down to meet us. The rose trees,
Domestic, Asiatic, my father's favorites.
The bridge, marauding dragonflies, the bullfrog,
Camellias cracked and blackened by the freeze,
Bay tree, mimosa, mountain laurel, apple,
Monkey pine twenty feet high, banana shrub,
The owls' tall pine curved like a flattened S.
The pump house Mort and I built block by block,
Smooth concrete floor, roof pale aluminum
Half-covered by a clematis, the pump
Thirty feet down the mountain's granite foot.
Mort was the hired man sent to us by Fortune,
Childlike enough to lead us. He brought home,
Although he could not even drive a tractor,
Cheated, a worthless car, which we returned.
When, at the trial to garnishee his wages,
Frank Guess, the judge, Grandmother's longtime neighbor,
Whose children my mother taught in Cradle Roll,
Heard Mort's examination, he broke in
As if in disbelief on the bank's attorneys:
"Gentlemen, must we continue this charade?"
Finally, past the compost heap, the garden,
Tomatoes and sweet corn for succotash,
Okra for frying, Kentucky Wonders, limas,
Cucumbers, squashes, leeks heaped round with soil,
Lavender, dill, parsley, and rosemary,
Tithonia and zinnias between the rows;
The greenhouse by the rock wall, used for cuttings
In late spring, frames to grow them strong for planting
Through winter into summer. Early one morning
Mort called out, lying helpless by the bridge.
His ashes we let drift where the magnolia
We planted as a stem divides the path
The others lie, too young, at Silver Hill,
Except my mother. Ninety-five, she lives
Three thousand miles away, beside the bare
Pacific, in rooms that overlook the Mission,
The Riviera, and the silver range
La Cumbre east. Magnolia grandiflora
And one druidic live oak guard the view.
Proudly around the walls, she shows her paintings
Of twenty years ago: the great oak's arm
Extended, Zeuslike, straight and strong, wisteria
Tangled among the branches, amaryllis
Around the base; her cat, UC, at ease
In marigolds; the weeping cherry, pink
And white arms like a blessing to the blue
Bird feeder Mort made; cabin, scarlet sweet gum
Superb when tribes migrated north and south.
Alert, still quick of speech, a little blind,
Active, ready for laughter, open to fear,
Pity, and wonder that such things may be,
Some Sundays, I think, she must walk the line,
Aunt Jennie, too, if she were still alive,
And Eleanor, whose story is untold,
Their presences like muses, prompting me
In my small study, all listening to the sea,
All of one mind, the true posterity.
~ Edgar Bowers,
Not long, however, after Zarathustra had got away
from the magician, he again saw somebody sitting by
the side of his path: a tall man in black, with a gaunt
pale face; and this man displeased him exceedingly.
"Alas!" he said to his heart, "there sits muffled-up
melancholy, looking like the tribe of priests: what do
they want in my realm? How now? I have scarcely
escaped that magician; must another black artist cross
my way so soon-some wizard with laying-on of hands,
some dark miracle worker by the grace of God, some
anointed world-slanderer whom the devil should fetch?
But the devil is never where he should be: he always
comes too late, this damned dwarf and clubfoot!"
Thus cursed Zarathustra, impatient in his heart, and
he wondered how he might sneak past the black man,
looking the other way. But behold, it happened otherwise. For at the same moment the seated man had
already spotted him; and not unlike one on whom unexpected good fortune has been thrust, he jumped up
and walked toward Zarathustra.
"Whoever you may be, you wanderer," he said, "help
one who has lost his way, a seeker, an old man who
might easily come to grief here. This region is remote
and strange to me, and I have heard wild animals
howling; and he who might have offered me protection
no longer exists himself. I sought the last pious man, a
saint and hermit who, alone in his forest, had not yet
heard what all the world knows today."
"What does all the world know today?" asked Zarathustra. "Perhaps this, that the old god in whom all
the world once believed no longer lives?"
"As you say," replied the old man sadly. "And I
served that old god until his last hour. But now I am
retired, without a master, and yet not free, nor ever
cheerful except in my memories. That is why I climbed
these mountains, that I might again have a festival at
last, as is fitting for an old pope and church father-for
behold, I am the last pope-a festival of pious memories
and divine services. But now he himself is dead, the
most pious man, that saint in the forest who constantly
praised his god with singing and humming. I did not
find him when I found his cave; but there were two
wolves inside, howling over his death, for all animals
loved him. So I ran away. Had I then come to these
woods and mountains in vain? Then my heart decided
that I should seek another man, the most pious of all
those who do not believe in God-that I should seek
Thus spoke the old man, and he looked with sharp
eyes at the man standing before him; but Zarathustra
seized the hand of the old pope and long contemplated
it with admiration. "Behold, venerable one!" he said
then; "what a beautiful long hand! That is the hand of
one who has always dispensed blessings. But now it
holds him whom you seek, me, Zarathustra. It is I, the
godless Zarathustra, who speaks: who is more godless
than I, that I may enjoy his instruction?"
Thus spoke Zarathustra, and with his glances he
pierced the thoughts and the thoughts behind the
thoughts of the old pope. At last the pope began, "He
who loved and possessed him most has also lost him
most now; behold, now I myself am probably the more
godless of the two of us. But who could rejoice in that?"
"You served him to the last?" Zarathustra asked
thoughtfully after a long silence. "You know how he
died? Is it true what they say, that pity strangled him,
that he saw how man hung on the cross and that he
could not bear it, that love of man became his hell, and
in the end his death?"
The old pope, however, did not answer but looked
aside, shy, with a pained and gloomy expression. "Let
him go!" Zarathustra said after prolonged reflection,
still looking the old man straight in the eye. "Let him
gol He is gone. And although it does you credit that
you say only good things about him who is now dead,
you know as well as I who he was, and that his ways
"Speaking in the confidence of three eyes," the old
pope said cheerfully (for he was blind in one eye), "in
what pertains to God, I am-and have the right to be
-more enlightened than Zarathustra himself. My love
served him many years, my will followed his will in
everything. A good servant, however, knows everything,
including even things that his master conceals from
himself. He was a concealed god, addicted to secrecy.
Verily, even a son he got himself in a sneaky way. At
the door of his faith stands adultery.
"Whoever praises him as a god of love does not have
a high enough opinion of love itself. Did this god not
want to be a judge too? But the lover loves beyond
reward and retri bution.
"When he was young, this god out of the Orient, he
was harsh and vengeful and he built himself a hell to
amuse his favorites. Eventually, however, he became
old and soft and mellow and pitying, more like a grandfa ther than a father, but most like a shaky old grandmo ther. Then he sat in his nook by the hearth, wilted,
grieving over his weak legs, weary of the world, weary
of willing, and one day he choked on his all-too-great
"You old pope," Zarathustra interrupted at this point,
"did you see that with your own eyes? Surely it might
have happened that way-that way, and also in some
other way. When gods die, they always die several
kinds of death. But-well then! This way or that, this
way and that-he is gone! He offended the taste of my
ears and eyes; I do not want to say anything worse
about him now that he is dead.
"I love all that looks bright and speaks honestly. But
he-you know it, you old priest, there was something
of your manner about him, of the priests manner: he
was equivocal. He was also indistinct. How angry he
got with us, this wrath-snorter, because we understood
him badly! But why did he not speak more cleanly?
And if it was the fault of our ears, why did he give us
ears that heard him badly? If there was mud in our
ears-well, who put it there? He bungled too much, this
potter who had never finished his apprenticeship. But
that he wreaked revenge on his pots and creations for
having bungled them himself, that was a sin against
good taste. There is good taste in piety too; and it was
this that said in the end, 'Away with such a god! Rather
no god, rather make destiny on one's own, rather be a
fool, rather be a god oneselfl"
"What is this I hear?" said the old pope at this
point, pricking up his ears. "0 Zarathustra, with such
disbelief you are more pious than you believe. Some
god in you must have converted you to your godlessness.
Is it not your piety itself that no longer lets you believe
in a god? And your overgreat honesty will yet lead you
beyond good and evil too. Behold, what remains to you?
You have eyes and hands and mouth, predestined for
blessing from all eternity. One does not bless with the
hand alone. Near you, although you want to be the
most godless, I scent a secret, sacred, pleasant scent of
long blessings: it gives me gladness and grief. Let me
be your guest, 0 Zarathustra, for one single night! Nowhere on earth shall I now feel better than with you."
"Amen! So be it!" said Zarathustra in great astonishment. "Up there goes the way, there lies Zarathustra's
cave. I should indeed like to accompany you there myself, you venerable one, for I love all who are pious. But
now a cry of distress urgently calls me away from you.
In my realm no one shall come to grief; my cave is a
good haven. And I wish that I could put everyone who
is sad back on firm land and firm legs.
"But who could take your melancholy off your shoulders? For that I am too weak. Verily, we might wait
long before someone awakens your god again. For this
old god lives no more: he is thoroughly dead."
Thus spoke Zarathustra.
~ Friedrich Nietzsche, RETIRED
398:How gracefully, O man, with thy palm-bough,
Upon the waning century standest thou,
In proud and noble manhood's prime,
With unlocked senses, with a spirit freed,
Of firmness mild,though silent, rich in deed,
The ripest son of Time,
Through meekness great, through precepts strong,
Through treasures rich, that time had long
Hid in thy bosom, and through reason free,
Master of Nature, who thy fetters loves,
And who thy strength in thousand conflicts proves,
And from the desert soared in pride with thee!
Flushed with the glow of victory,
Never forget to prize the hand
That found the weeping orphan child
Deserted on life's barren strand,
And left a prey to hazard wild,
That, ere thy spirit-honor saw the day,
Thy youthful heart watched over silently,
And from thy tender bosom turned away
Each thought that might have stained its purity;
That kind one ne'er forget who, as in sport,
Thy youth to noble aspirations trained,
And who to thee in easy riddles taught
The secret how each virtue might be gained;
Who, to receive him back more perfect still,
E'en into strangers' arms her favorite gave
Oh, may'st thou never with degenerate will,
Humble thyself to be her abject slave!
In industry, the bee the palm may bear;
In skill, the worm a lesson may impart;
With spirits blest thy knowledge thou dost share,
But thou, O man, alone hast art!
Only through beauty's morning gate
Didst thou the land of knowledge find.
To merit a more glorious fate,
In graces trains itself the mind.
What thrilled thee through with trembling blessed,
When erst the Muses swept the chord,
That power created in thy breast,
Which to the mighty spirit soared.
When first was seen by doting reason's ken,
When many a thousand years had passed away,
A symbol of the fair and great e'en then,
Before the childlike mind uncovered lay.
Its blessed form bade us honor virtue's cause,
The honest sense 'gainst vice put forth its powers,
Before a Solon had devised the laws
That slowly bring to light their languid flowers.
Before Eternity's vast scheme
Was to the thinker's mind revealed,
Was't not foreshadowed in his dream,
Whose eyes explored yon starry field?
Urania,the majestic dreaded one,
Who wears a glory of Orions twined
Around her brow, and who is seen by none
Save purest spirits, when, in splendor shrined,
She soars above the stars in pride,
Ascending to her sunny throne,
Her fiery chaplet lays aside,
And now, as beauty, stands alone;
While, with the Graces' girdle round her cast,
She seems a child, by children understood;
For we shall recognize as truth at last,
What here as beauty only we have viewed.
When the Creator banished from his sight
Frail man to dark mortality's abode,
And granted him a late return to light,
Only by treading reason's arduous road,
When each immortal turned his face away,
She, the compassionate, alone
Took up her dwelling in that house of clay,
With the deserted, banished one.
With drooping wing she hovers here
Around her darling, near the senses' land,
And on his prison-walls so drear
Elysium paints with fond deceptive hand.
While soft humanity still lay at rest,
Within her tender arms extended,
No flame was stirred by bigots' murderous zest,
No guiltless blood on high ascended.
The heart that she in gentle fetters binds,
Views duty's slavish escort scornfully;
Her path of light, though fairer far it winds,
Sinks in the sun-track of morality.
Those who in her chaste service still remain,
No grovelling thought can tempt, no fate affright;
The spiritual life, so free from stain,
Freedom's sweet birthright, they receive again,
Under the mystic sway of holy might.
The purest among millions, happy they
Whom to her service she has sanctified,
Whose mouths the mighty one's commands convey,
Within whose breasts she deigneth to abide;
Whom she ordained to feed her holy fire
Upon her altar's ever-flaming pyre,
Whose eyes alone her unveiled graces meet,
And whom she gathers round in union sweet
In the much-honored place be glad
Where noble order bade ye climb,
For in the spirit-world sublime,
Man's loftiest rank ye've ever had!
Ere to the world proportion ye revealed,
That every being joyfully obeys,
A boundless structure, in night's veil concealed,
Illumed by naught but faint and languid rays,
A band of phantoms, struggling ceaselessly,
Holding his mind in slavish fetters bound,
Unsociable and rude as be,
Assailing him on every side around,
Thus seemed to man creation in that day!
United to surrounding forms alone
By the blind chains the passions had put on,
Whilst Nature's beauteous spirit fled away
Unfelt, untasted, and unknown.
And, as it hovered o'er with parting ray,
Ye seized the shades so neighborly,
With silent hand, with feeling mind,
And taught how they might be combined
In one firm bond of harmony.
The gaze, light-soaring, felt uplifted then,
When first the cedar's slender trunk it viewed;
And pleasingly the ocean's crystal flood
Reflected back the dancing form again.
Could ye mistake the look, with beauty fraught,
That Nature gave to help ye on your way?
The image floating on the billows taught
The art the fleeting shadow to portray.
From her own being torn apart,
Her phantom, beauteous as a dream,
She plunged into the silvery stream,
Surrendering to her spoiler's art.
Creative power soon in your breast unfolded;
Too noble far, not idly to conceive,
The shadow's form in sand, in clay ye moulded,
And made it in the sketch its being leave.
The longing thirst for action then awoke,
And from your breast the first creation broke.
By contemplation captive made,
Ensnared by your discerning eye,
The friendly phantom's soon betrayed
The talisman that roused your ecstasy.
The laws of wonder-working might,
The stores by beauty brought to light,
Inventive reason in soft union planned
To blend together 'neath your forming hand.
The obelisk, the pyramid ascended,
The Hermes stood, the column sprang on high,
The reed poured forth the woodland melody,
Immortal song on victor's deeds attended.
The fairest flowers that decked the earth,
Into a nosegay, with wise choice combined,
Thus the first art from Nature had its birth;
Into a garland then were nosegays twined,
And from the works that mortal hands had made,
A second, nobler art was now displayed.
The child of beauty, self-sufficient now,
That issued from your hands to perfect day,
Loses the chaplet that adorned its brow,
Soon as reality asserts its sway.
The column, yielding to proportion's chains,
Must with its sisters join in friendly link,
The hero in the hero-band must sink,
The Muses' harp peals forth its tuneful strains.
The wondering savages soon came
To view the new creation's plan
"Behold!"the joyous crowds exclaim,
"Behold, all this is done by man!"
With jocund and more social aim
The minstrel's lyre their awe awoke,
Telling of Titans, and of giant's frays
And lion-slayers, turning, as he spoke,
Even into heroes those who heard his lays.
For the first time the soul feels joy,
By raptures blessed that calmer are,
That only greet it from afar,
That passions wild can ne'er destroy,
And that, when tasted, do not cloy.
And now the spirit, free and fair,
Awoke from out its sensual sleep;
By you unchained, the slave of care
Into the arms of joy could leap.
Each brutish barrier soon was set at naught,
Humanity first graced the cloudless brow,
And the majestic, noble stranger, thought,
From out the wondering brain sprang boldly now.
Man in his glory stood upright,
And showed the stars his kingly face;
His speaking glance the sun's bright light
Blessed in the realms sublime of space.
Upon the cheek now bloomed the smile,
The voice's soulful harmony
Expanded into song the while,
And feeling swam in the moist eye;
And from the mouth, with spirit teeming o'er,
Jest, sweetly linked with grace, began to pour.
Sunk in the instincts of the worm,
By naught but sensual lust possessed,
Ye recognized within his breast
Love-spiritual's noble germ;
And that this germ of love so blest
Escaped the senses' abject load,
To the first pastoral song he owed.
Raised to the dignity of thought,
Passions more calm to flow were taught
From the bard's mouth with melody.
The cheeks with dewy softness burned;
The longing that, though quenched, still yearned,
Proclaimed the spirit-harmony.
The wisest's wisdom, and the strongest's vigor,
The meekest's meekness, and the noblest's grace,
By you were knit together in one figure,
Wreathing a radiant glory round the place.
Man at the Unknown's sight must tremble,
Yet its refulgence needs must love;
That mighty Being to resemble,
Each glorious hero madly strove;
The prototype of beauty's earliest strain
Ye made resound through Nature's wide domain.
The passions' wild and headlong course,
The ever-varying plan of fate,
Duty and instinct's twofold force,
With proving mind and guidance straight
Ye then conducted to their ends.
What Nature, as she moves along,
Far from each other ever rends,
Become upon the stage, in song,
Members of order, firmly bound.
Awed by the Furies' chorus dread,
Murder draws down upon its head
The doom of death from their wild sound.
Long e'er the wise to give a verdict dared,
An Iliad had fate's mysteries declared
To early ages from afar;
While Providence in silence fared
Into the world from Thespis' car.
Yet into that world's current so sublime
Your symmetry was borne before its time,
When the dark hand of destiny
Failed in your sight to part by force.
What it had fashioned 'neath your eye,
In darkness life made haste to die,
Ere it fulfilled its beauteous course.
Then ye with bold and self-sufficient might
Led the arch further through the future's night:
Then, too, ye plunged, without a fear,
Into Avernus' ocean black,
And found the vanished life so dear
Beyond the urn, and brought it back.
A blooming Pollux-form appeared now soon,
On Castor leaning, and enshrined in light
The shadow that is seen upon the moon,
Ere she has filled her silvery circle bright!
Yet higher,higher still above the earth
Inventive genius never ceased to rise:
Creations from creations had their birth,
And harmonies from harmonies.
What here alone enchants the ravished sight,
A nobler beauty yonder must obey;
The graceful charms that in the nymph unite,
In the divine Athene melt away;
The strength with which the wrestler is endowed,
In the god's beauty we no longer find:
The wonder of his timeJove's image proud
In the Olympian temple is enshrined.
The world, transformed by industry's bold hand,
The human heart, by new-born instincts moved,
That have in burning fights been fully proved,
Your circle of creation now expand.
Advancing man bears on his soaring pinions,
In gratitude, art with him in his flight,
And out of Nature's now-enriched dominions
New worlds of beauty issue forth to light.
The barriers upon knowledge are o'erthrown;
The spirit that, with pleasure soon matured,
Has in your easy triumphs been inured
To hasten through an artist-whole of graces,
Nature's more distant columns duly places.
And overtakes her on her pathway lone.
He weighs her now with weights that human are,
Metes her with measures that she lent of old;
While in her beauty's rites more practised far,
She now must let his eye her form behold.
With youthful and self-pleasing bliss,
He lends the spheres his harmony,
And, if he praise earth's edifice,
'Tis for its wondrous symmetry.
In all that now around him breathes,
Proportion sweet is ever rife;
And beauty's golden girdle wreathes
With mildness round his path through life;
Perfection blest, triumphantly,
Before him in your works soars high;
Wherever boisterous rapture swells,
Wherever silent sorrow flees,
Where pensive contemplation dwells,
Where he the tears of anguish sees,
Where thousand terrors on him glare,
Harmonious streams are yet behind
He sees the Graces sporting there,
With feeling silent and refined.
Gentle as beauty's lines together linking,
As the appearances that round him play,
In tender outline in each other sinking,
The soft breath of his life thus fleets away.
His spirit melts in the harmonious sea,
That, rich in rapture, round his senses flows,
And the dissolving thought all silently
To omnipresent Cytherea grows.
Joining in lofty union with the Fates,
On Graces and on Muses calm relying,
With freely-offered bosom he awaits
The shaft that soon against him will be flying
From the soft bow necessity creates.
Favorites beloved of blissful harmony,
Welcome attendants on life's dreary road,
The noblest and the dearest far that she,
Who gave us life, to bless that life bestowed!
That unyoked man his duties bears in mind,
And loves the fetters that his motions bind,
That Chance with brazen sceptre rules him not,
For this eternity is now your lot,
Your heart has won a bright reward for this.
That round the cup where freedom flows,
Merrily sport the gods of bliss,
The beauteous dream its fragrance throws,
For this, receive a loving kiss!
The spirit, glorious and serene,
Who round necessity the graces trains,
Who bids his ether and his starry plains
Upon us wait with pleasing mien,
Who, 'mid his terrors, by his majesty gives joy,
And who is beauteous e'en when seeking to destroy,
Him imitate, the artist good!
As o'er the streamlet's crystal flood
The banks with checkered dances hover,
The flowery mead, the sunset's light,
Thus gleams, life's barren pathway over,
Poesy's shadowy world so bright.
In bridal dress ye led us on
Before the terrible Unknown,
Before the inexorable fate,
As in your urns the bones are laid,
With beauteous magic veil ye shade
The chorus dread that cares create.
Thousands of years I hastened through
The boundless realm of vanished time
How sad it seems when left by you
But where ye linger, how sublime!
She who, with fleeting wing, of yore
From your creating hand arose in might,
Within your arms was found once more,
When, vanquished by Time's silent flight,
Life's blossoms faded from the cheek,
And from the limbs all vigor went,
And mournfully, with footstep weak,
Upon his staff the gray-beard leant.
Then gave ye to the languishing,
Life's waters from a new-born spring;
Twice was the youth of time renewed,
Twice, from the seeds that ye had strewed.
When chased by fierce barbarian hordes away,
The last remaining votive brand ye tore
From Orient's altars, now pollution's prey,
And to these western lands in safety bore.
The fugitive from yonder eastern shore,
The youthful day, the West her dwelling made;
And on Hesperia's plains sprang up once more
Ionia's flowers, in pristine bloom arrayed.
Over the spirit fairer Nature shed,
With soft refulgence, a reflection bright,
And through the graceful soul with stately tread
Advanced the mighty Deity of light.
Millions of chains were burst asunder then,
And to the slave then human laws applied,
And mildly rose the younger race of men,
As brethren, gently wandering side by side,
With noble inward ecstasy,
The bliss imparted ye receive,
And in the veil of modesty,
With silent merit take your leave.
If on the paths of thought, so freely given,
The searcher now with daring fortune stands,
And, by triumphant Paeans onward driven,
Would seize upon the crown with dauntless hands
If he with grovelling hireling's pay
Thinks to dismiss his glorious guide
Or, with the first slave's-place array
Art near the throne his dream supplied
Forgive him!O'er your head to-day
Hovers perfection's crown in pride,
With you the earliest plant Spring had,
Soul-forming Nature first began;
With you, the harvest-chaplet glad,
Perfected Nature ends her plan.
The art creative, that all-modestly arose
From clay and stone, with silent triumph throws
Its arms around the spirit's vast domain.
What in the land of knowledge the discoverer knows,
He knows, discovers, only for your gain
The treasures that the thinker has amassed,
He will enjoy within your arms alone,
Soon as his knowledge, beauty-ripe at last.
To art ennobled shall have grown,
Soon as with you he scales a mountain-height,
And there, illumined by the setting sun,
The smiling valley bursts upon his sight.
The richer ye reward the eager gaze
The higher, fairer orders that the mind
May traverse with its magic rays,
Or compass with enjoyment unconfined
The wider thoughts and feelings open lie
To more luxuriant floods of harmony.
To beauty's richer, more majestic stream,
The fair members of the world's vast scheme,
That, maimed, disgrace on his creation bring,
He sees the lofty forms then perfecting
The fairer riddles come from out the night
The richer is the world his arms enclose,
The broader stream the sea with which he flows
The weaker, too, is destiny's blind might
The nobler instincts does he prove
The smaller he himself, the greater grows his love.
Thus is he led, in still and hidden race,
By poetry, who strews his path with flowers,
Through ever-purer forms, and purer powers,
Through ever higher heights, and fairer grace.
At length, arrived at the ripe goal of time,
Yet one more inspiration all-sublime,
Poetic outburst of man's latest youth,
Andhe will glide into the arms of truth!
Herself, the gentle Cypria,
Illumined by her fiery crown,
Then stands before her full-grown son
Unveiledas great Urania;
The sooner only by him caught,
The fairer he had fled away!
Thus stood, in wonder rapture-fraught,
Ulysses' noble son that day,
When the sage mentor who his youth beguiled;
Herself transfigured as Jove's glorious child!
Man's honor is confided to your hand,
There let it well protected be!
It sinks with you! with you it will expand!
Poesy's sacred sorcery
Obeys a world-plan wise and good;
In silence let it swell the flood
Of mighty-rolling harmony.
By her own time viewed with disdain,
Let solemn truth in song remain,
And let the Muses' band defend her!
In all the fullness of her splendor,
Let her survive in numbers glorious,
More dread, when veiled her charms appear,
And vengeance take, with strains victorious,
On her tormentor's ear!
The freest mother's children free,
With steadfast countenance then rise
To highest beauty's radiancy,
And every other crown despise!
The sisters who escaped you here,
Within your mother's arms ye'll meet;
What noble spirits may revere,
Must be deserving and complete.
High over your own course of time
Exalt yourselves with pinion bold,
And dimly let your glass sublime
The coming century unfold!
On thousand roads advancing fast
Of ever-rich variety,
With fond embraces meet at last
Before the throne of harmony!
As into seven mild rays we view
With softness break the glimmer white,
As rainbow-beams of sevenfold hue
Dissolve again in that soft light,
In clearness thousandfold thus throw
Your magic round the ravished gaze,
Into one stream of light thus flow,
One bond of truth that ne'er decays!
~ Friedrich Schiller, The Artists
1 Integral Yoga
1 Integral Theory
4 Walt Whitman
3 Whitman - Poems
0 1962-01-21, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
When Satprem published extracts from this conversation in the Ashram Bulletin of April 1962, Mother had this passage modified (over his protests). Instead of "Do not try to be virtuous," she put "Do not try to seem virtuous"; and she added: "There's a drawback here. People never understand anything, or rather they understand everything in their own way. They would take this sentence as an encouragement to get into mischief, to misbehave, to entertain wrong feelings, and then proclaim, 'We are the Lord's favorites!' ... There was something like it in one of Sri Aurobindo's letters, you remembera letter to people who wanted to bring all the impurities in themselves out to the surface; he told them that was definitely not the way!" (See Sri Aurobindo's two letters on psychoanalysis in the Addendum)
Letters on Yoga, Cent. Ed., XXIV. 1605 ff.
1.007 - The Elevations, #Quran, #unset, #Zen
114. He said, “Yes, and you will be among my favorites.”
115. They said, “O Moses! Either you throw, or we are the ones to throw.”
1.whitman - Drum-Taps, #Whitman - Poems, #unset, #Zen
The artillerythe silent cannons, bright as gold, drawn along,
1.whitman - Song of Myself, #Whitman - Poems, #unset, #Zen
The hurrahs for popular favorites, the fury of rous'd mobs,
The flap of the curtain'd litter, a sick man inside borne to the hospital,
1.whitman - Song Of Myself- VIII, #Whitman - Poems, #unset, #Zen
The hurrahs for popular favorites, the fury of rous'd mobs,
The flap of the curtain'd litter, a sick man inside borne to the hospital,
1.ww - 8 - The little one sleeps in its cradle, #Song of Myself, #unset, #Zen
Original Language English The little one sleeps in its cradle, I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies with my hand. The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill, I peeringly view them from the top. The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom, I witness the corpse with its dabbled hair, I note where the pistol has fallen. The blab of the pave, tires of carts, sluff of boot soles, talk of the promenaders, The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating thumb, the clank of the shod horses on the granite floor, The snow sleighs, clinking, shouted jokes, pelts of snowballs, The hurrahs for popular favorites, the fury of roused mobs, The flap of the curtained litter, a sick man inside borne to the hospital, The meeting of enemies, the sudden oath, the blows and fall, The excited crowd, the policeman with his star quickly working his passage to the center of the crowd, The impassive stones that receive and return so many echoes, What groans of overfed or half-starved who fall sunstruck or in fits, What exclamations of women taken suddenly who hurry home and give birth to babes, What living and buried speech is always vibrating here, what howls restrained by decorum, Arrests of criminals, slights, adulterous offers made, acceptances, rejections with convex lips, I mind them or the show or resonance of them -- I come and I depart. [2333.jpg] -- from Song of Myself, by Walt Whitman <
4.06 - RETIRED, #Thus Spoke Zarathustra, #Friedrich Nietzsche, #Philosophy
amuse his favorites. Eventually, however, he became
old and soft and mellow and pitying, more like a grandfa ther than a father, but most like a shaky old grandmo ther. Then he sat in his nook by the hearth, wilted,
Aeneid, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
What are you asking for your favorites?
That hulls made by the hands of mortals should
Big Mind (ten perfections), #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
There's an old Zen saying, it's a koan, a beautiful koan, one of my favorites. It's about a buffalo that passes through a window, and the koan goes like this: 'A buffalo with its head, horns and four legs all pass through a lattice window. Why is it that its tail gets stuck?'
I think it's one of the most fantastic koans, because it communicates the essence of the whole teaching. In this koan, the head, our conceptual mind, passes through this barrier. The horns, our dualistic mind, also pass through. In other words we reach the non-dual. Now, if the head, four legs and all our ideas and notions are dropped off, why does the tail get stuck, when the tail is so thin and the buffalo so huge? The answer has to do with two things, it always has to do with these two sides of the one reality, the non-dual and the dual, the absolute and the relative.
LUX.01 - GNOSIS, #Liber Null, #Peter J Carroll, #Occultism
Sleeplessness, fasting, and exhaustion: are old monastic favorites. There should be a constant turning of the mind toward the object of the exercise during these practices. Pain, torture, and flagellation have been used by witches, monks, and fakirs to achieve results. Surrender to pain brings eventual ecstasy and the necessary one-pointedness. However, if the organism's resistance to pain is high, needless damage to the body may result before the threshold is crossed.
Dancing, drumming, and chanting: require careful arranging and preparation to bring the participants to a climax. Lyrical exaltation through emotive poetry, incantation, song, prayer, or supplication can also be added. The whole is best controlled by some form of ritual. Over-breathing is sometimes used to supplement the effects of dancing or leaping.
--- Overview of noun favorite
The noun favorite has 3 senses (first 2 from tagged texts)
1. (5) favorite, favourite ::: (something regarded with special favor or liking; "that book is one of my favorites")
2. (1) darling, favorite, favourite, pet, dearie, deary, ducky ::: (a special loved one)
3. front-runner, favorite, favourite ::: (a competitor thought likely to win)
--- Synonyms/Hypernyms (Ordered by Estimated Frequency) of noun favorite
3 senses of favorite
=> choice, pick, selection
=> decision making, deciding
=> higher cognitive process
=> process, cognitive process, mental process, operation, cognitive operation
=> cognition, knowledge, noesis
=> psychological feature
=> abstraction, abstract entity
darling, favorite, favourite, pet, dearie, deary, ducky
=> person, individual, someone, somebody, mortal, soul
=> organism, being
=> living thing, animate thing
=> whole, unit
=> object, physical object
=> physical entity
=> causal agent, cause, causal agency
=> physical entity
front-runner, favorite, favourite
=> rival, challenger, competitor, competition, contender
=> person, individual, someone, somebody, mortal, soul
=> organism, being
=> living thing, animate thing
=> whole, unit
=> object, physical object
=> physical entity
=> causal agent, cause, causal agency
=> physical entity
--- Hyponyms of noun favorite
1 of 3 senses of favorite
darling, favorite, favourite, pet, dearie, deary, ducky
=> teacher's pet
--- Synonyms/Hypernyms (Ordered by Estimated Frequency) of noun favorite
3 senses of favorite
=> choice, pick, selection
darling, favorite, favourite, pet, dearie, deary, ducky
front-runner, favorite, favourite
=> rival, challenger, competitor, competition, contender
--- Coordinate Terms (sisters) of noun favorite
3 senses of favorite
-> choice, pick, selection
=> favorite, favourite
darling, favorite, favourite, pet, dearie, deary, ducky
=> admirer, adorer
=> beloved, dear, dearest, honey, love
=> boyfriend, fellow, beau, swain, young man
=> darling, favorite, favourite, pet, dearie, deary, ducky
=> girlfriend, girl, lady friend
=> idolizer, idoliser
=> kisser, osculator
=> petter, fondler
=> soul mate
=> sweetheart, sweetie, steady, truelove
front-runner, favorite, favourite
-> rival, challenger, competitor, competition, contender
=> champion, champ, title-holder
=> foe, enemy
=> front-runner, favorite, favourite
=> king, queen, world-beater
=> runner-up, second best
=> street fighter
--- Grep of noun favorite
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Integral World - Favorite books by Ken Wilber
Integral World - Andrew Cohen's Disappearing Act, Seeing Through Cultic Tendencies in Our Most Favorite Movements, Frank Visser
dedroidify.blogspot - these-are-few-of-my-favorite-books
dedroidify.blogspot - now-its-as-easy-as-humming-favorite-song
The ABC Weekend Specials (1977 - 1997) - The ABC Weekend Specials was a Saturday afternoon show that featuring stories had come from your favorite children novels that can turned into a cartoon or a live action made for TV movies.
The Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm Show (1971 - 1972) - The Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm Show follows the hijinks of the teen Pebbles Flintstone and Bamm-Bamm Rubble. Bypassing several important growth stages, Bedrock's favorite tots are now teenagers attending Bedrock High where, not surprisingly, they become embroiled in a variety of misadventures along with...
The New Adventures of Speed Racer (1993 - 1994) - The early 90's brought back that 60's anime favorite, Speed Racer, with a bit of a sci-fi twist.
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Robocop (Live Action) (1994 - 1995) - This live-action series, based on the popular movie trilogy, continued the adventures of everyone's favorite cyborg cop. While the movies were quite violent, the violence quotient was toned down considerably for this show to make it more "family friendly." Shot in Toronto, many notable Canadian ac...
Flying House (1982 - 1983) - Reruns of this show ran through the mid 1990's on TBN. An anime to promote Chrisitianity in Japan, this cartoon was hardly sappy as it contained action, robots, and lots of side story, and a radical dude-Jesus. For the most part the three children Angie, ?, and Corky (my favorite) traveled through t...
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El Chapuln Colorado (1973 - 1979) - This series from Latin America, followed the adventures of a klutzy Mexican superhero, it and it's companion show, El Chavo del Ocho are still cult and family favorites in the Spanish speaking world. Simpsons fans, may know that the title hero was the inspiration of the Simpsons favorite, "Bumblebe...
My Favorite Martians (1973 - 1975) - Filmation cartoon based on the live action series.
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My Favorite Martian (1963 - 1966) - A show about a humanized martian named Uncle Martin and his reporter "nephew" Tim O'Hara. They live in a garage apartment in Los Angeles, California. And it was first shown on CBS.
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Adventures in Dinosaur City(1992) - A group of kids are pulled though a television set and into an alternate world. The residents of this world are none other than the Stone Age characters of their favorite TV show "Dinosaurs." Timmy, Mick, and Jamie must join forces with their dinosaur heroes Rex and Tops in order to put an end to t...
Godzilla vs. Megalon(1973) - Possibly one of the most humorous of the Godzilla films, Godzilla vs. Megalon stars everyone's favorite giant lizard who fights the beetle-like Megalon and the chicken alien Gigan with the assistance of the freaky looking robot, Je
Tekken: The Motion Picture(1997) - All of your favorite Tekken characters are here as they battle their way through each other to win the Iron Fist tournament, where fighters of unequaled strength from around the world gather to test their strength in the gladitorial arena. Of course, intrigue and danger abound, with professional ass...
Dennis the Menace(1993) - Dennis, everyone's favorite kid from the comics is back. When his parents have to go out of town, he stays with Mr and Mrs Wilson. The little menace is driving Mr Wilson crazy. But Dennis is just trying to be helpful. Even to the thief he bumps into.
Dumbo(1941) - Everyone's favorite elephant with big ears flies onto the big screen! With encounters such as the jeers of fellow circus participants, a few spectators, and being demoted to a clown, Dumbo soon learns how to believe in himself with the help of his loyal friend, Timothy Mouse. A true classic for all...
My Favorite Martian(1999) - News producer Tim O'Hara gets himself fired for unwillingly compromising his bosses' daughter Brace Channing during a live transmission. A little later, he witnesses the crashing of a small martian spacecraft, realizing his one-time chance of delivering a story that will rock the earth. Since Tim to...
Newsies(1992) - Starring academy award winner Robert Duvall and screen favorite Ann-Margret, here's the true story of a courageous group of newsboys who become unlikely heroes when they team up to fight an unscrupulous newspaper tycoon. Determined to make their dreams come true, they find the courage to challenge...
The Apple(1980) - Alphie and Bibi, two sweet, naive youths from Moose Jaw, Canada, have come to America to compete in the 1994 Worldvision Song Festival. Although the pair have talent, they are beaten out by the underhanded tactics of the festival favorites, another duo with the backing of BIM: Boogalow International...
Empire Records(1995) - A group of people who work in a music store find out it's going to be sold to a large chain and they may lose their jobs, but they band together and try and save their favorite place. This is not just a movie about music it is a great movie about friendships, love, but most of all the LOVE people ha...
Phantasm II(1988) - The Tall Man and his strange little Killer Sphere return for a second round in this sequel to the 1979 cult favorite. Mike Pearson (James LeGros) is still plagued by memories of the Tall Man (Angus Scrimm), an evil mortician who has risen from the grave and bleeds embalming fluid and tried to kil...
Soccer Dog: The Movie(1999) - In this family comedy, a successful man with nostalgia for his days as a soccer player, attempts to adopt an orphan so he can teach him all about his favorite sport. But soon after bringing the lad home, the new father is disappointed to discover that the lad is not interested in playing soccer. Thi...
Celtic Pride(1996) - Two basketball fans, whose enthusiasm overwhelms their intelligence, come up with a new but legally problematic way of helping their favorite team in this comedy. Physical education instructor Mike O'Hara (Daniel Stern) and plumber Jimmy Flaherty (Dan Aykroyd) are close friends and obsessive followe...
Cloak & Dagger(1984) - Davey Osborn is a kid who's mother died and his dad is too busy, so he begins to see his favorite hero, Jack Flack, who is a video game superspy. A FBI agent is shot and gives Davey a top-secret video game cartridge before he dies leving him in danger from criminals that want the data on the cartri...
Night of the Demons 2(1994) - Angela, the universe's most unpleasant party crasher, returns! Angela's sister, Mouse, is taken by her bullying Catholic school classmates to a party at Angela's favorite haunt, and before long, everybody's being turned into demons and only a butt-kickin' nun, who wields her ruler like a mighty swor...
Benji(1974) - Benji is a stray who has worked his way into the hearts of a number of the townspeople, who give him food and attention whenever he stops by. His particular favorites are a pair of children who feed and play with him against the wishes of their parents. The children are kidnapped, the parents and th...
12 Angry Men(1997) - A jury argues a case in a stuffy room on a hot summer's day. Eleven say "guilty!" But one holdout (Jack Lemmon) is convinced of the defendant's innocence and stubbornly argues "reasonable doubt." This tense courtroom drama is a remake of Sidney Lumet's 1957 favorite and was produced for the Showtime...
Wee Sing Together(1990) - It's Sally's birthday, and she's in for a big surprise when her favorite toys, Hum Bear and Melody Mouse, magically come to life to throw her the best party ever! Sally and her brother Jonathan are whisked away to Wee Sing Park where they are met by a merry marching band and lots of friends with spe...
My Favorite Year(1982) - Benjy Stone is the junior writer on the top rated variety/comedy show, in the mid 50s (the early years). Alan Swann, an Erol Flynn type actor with a drinking problem is to be that weeks guest star.
Angel Heart(1987) - Harry Angel (Mickey Rourke) is a detective who hasn't been having that much luck lately. A man named Louis Cyphre (Robert De Niro) has an assignment for him. Louis wants Harry to find a singer named Johnny Favorite. The job won't be all that easy or all that normal.
National Lampoon's Favorite Deadly Sins(1995) - Caustic chain-smoking comedian Denis Leary helms this boffo comedy about lust, greed, and anger. Low-brow poster boy Andrew Dice Clay stars as The Thing That Wouldn't Die.
Leprechaun in the Hood(2000) - Everyone's favorite bloodthirsty Irish gnome invades the world of hip-hop in the fifth film in the Leprechaun series. Stray Bullet, Butch, and Postmaster P are three young rappers trying to raise money for their first record. They break into the studio of powerful producer Mack Daddy (Ice-T), hoping...
The Big Chill(1983) - This movie is an ensemble dramedy about a group of Baby Boomers who reunite at a friend's funeral. Over the course of their reunion, they talk about how their lives have changed, examine what has happened in their lives, and sing along with a soundtrack of 60s favorites, including many classic Motow...
For Our Children: The Concert(1993) - This 1993 concert raised money for AIDS awareness. Seen on The Disney Channel before being released on VHS, It featured popular artists of the day performing their own renditions of favorite childrens' songs. Several noted early 90s actors and actresses made appearances as well.
Disorderlies(1987) - As not-quite-orderlies who're downright Disorderlies, rap-music favorites The Fat Boys rule. Playing the freewheeling caretakers of the frail Dennison (Hollywood legend Ralph Bellamy), they stir up a comedic culture clash in Palm Beach society that only proves laughter is the best medicine this side...
Roller Boogie(1979) - A group of friends band together to keep their favorite Roller Disco from being closed.Starring Linda Blair,Jim Bray,Mark Goddard,and Beverly Garland.
That Night(1992) - In 1961 Long Island, 10-year-old Alice Bloom is trying to understand just how love works only to be teased by her playmates. Along with that, she starts idolizing 17-year-old Sheryl O'Connor across the street by watching her from bedroom window and copying everything from her favorite record to the...
New Jersey Drive(1995) - New Jersey Drive is a 1995 film about black youths in Newark, New Jersey, the unofficial "car theft capital of the world". Their favorite pastime is that of everybody in their neighborhood: stealing cars and joyriding. The trouble starts when they steal a police car and the cops launch a violent off...
Muscle Beach Party(1964) - Frankie(Frankie Avalon)and Dee Dee(Annette Funicello) find that their favorite surfing area has been taken over by a bunch of bodybuilders and a cantankerous trainer(Don Rickles).The second of the AIP "Beach Party" films.
Hannah and Her Sisters(1986) - Hannah and Her Sisters is a 1986 film following the lives of a troubled family between two Thanksgivings. It's one of Woody Allen's most popular films, usually grouped with Annie Hall and Manhattan as top critical and fan favorites. Until the release of Midnight in Paris in 2011, this was also the m...
The Wolfpack(2015) - Confined in an apartment from a New York housing project, the six Angulo brothers learned everything they know about the world through watching films and spend their time reenacting their favorite movies with intricate homemade costumes.
Your Favorite Laughs From An Evening At The Improv(1986) - This is a compilation of comedic highlights from the TV series "An Evening At The Improv".
Babes in Toyland (1997)(1997) - Everyone's favorite nursery rhyme characters come magically and musically to life in this animated adventure based on the classic holida
The Legend of the Candy Cane(2001) - In this wonderfully animated adaptation of The Legend of the Candy Cane, youll discover a fascinating story of hope and the hidden meaning of a favorite Christmas candythe candy cane. Based on the best-selling book, The Legend of the Candy Cane, this recreated and expanded version will introduce y...
Footloose (2011)(2011) - This movie is a remake of the 80s favorite. Many elements from the original are included, like several soundtrack songs, and many scenes. Other elements have been changed (like where Ren comes from). Basically, it's more of the same.
Desperately Seeking Seka(2002) - Swedish journalist Magnus Paulsson was a big fan of Seka. He ventures to America to meet his favorite adult film star, and on the way to meeting Seka, interviews several of her former colleagues in the industry.
Ready to Rumble(2000) - Sewage workers Gordie Boggs and Sean Dawkins watch their favorite wrestler, WCW World Heavyweight Champion Jimmy King cheated out of the title by Diamond Dallas Page (playing himself), a corrupt WCW promoter named Titus Sinclair, and DDP's partners. After the match, the two wrestling fans humorously...
How to Train Your Dragon 2(2014) - It's been five years since Hiccup and Toothless successfully united dragons and vikings on the island of Berk. While Astrid, Snoutlout and the rest of the gang are challenging each other to dragon races (the island's new favorite contact sport), the now inseparable pair journey through the skies, ch...
Rurouni Kenshin: The Final(2021) - Kenshin Himura (Takeru Satoh) is a legendary swordsman. After the Meiji Restoration, he has stopped killing with the sword. He tries to live a peaceful life with Kaoru Kamiya who runs a swordsmanship school in the village. Things change. Akabeko Restaurant, which is Kenshin Himuras favorite place t...
Angel Heart (1987) ::: 7.3/10 -- X | 1h 53min | Horror, Mystery, Thriller | 6 March 1987 (USA) -- A private investigator is hired by a man who calls himself Louis Cyphre to track down a singer named Johnny Favorite. But the investigation takes an unexpected and somber turn. Director: Alan Parker Writers:
Animation, Action, Crime | TV Series (2021- ) ::: Connections -- 13 episodes -- [u4ZG4O9Kh-h0yDb.png] View production, box office, & company info [mGkoj7mMfYpKOdk.png] Add to Watchlist Child Stars, Then and Now [MV5BNzcyOGU0OWEtYzJiNC00OGY2LWE4MDktYTJjZDI5YmYyY2JhXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMT kxNjUyNQ@@._CR0,0,1248,702._SY230_SX307_AL_.jpg] Check out some of our favorite child stars, including Jennifer Love
Becker ::: TV-PG | 30min | Comedy | TV Series (19982004) -- Dr. John Becker goes through his daily routine of being a doctor, stopping at his favorite diner, and other various situations, all the while hating life and everything around him. Creator:
Big Fan (2009) ::: 6.7/10 -- R | 1h 28min | Comedy, Crime, Drama | 18 January 2009 (USA) -- A hard-core New York Giants fan struggles to deal with the consequences when he is beaten up by his favorite player. Director: Robert Siegel (as Robert D. Siegel) Writer: Robert Siegel (as Robert D. Siegel) Stars:
Coffee Town (2013) ::: 6.6/10 -- Not Rated | 1h 27min | Comedy | 9 July 2013 (USA) -- A website manager enlists the help of his two friends in order to convince the owners of his favorite coffee shop -- which doubles as his office -- not to turn their business into a bar. Director: Brad Copeland Writer:
Diners, Drive-ins and Dives ::: TV-G | 30min | Reality-TV | TV Series (2006 ) Next Episode Friday, March 19 -- Food Network's Guy Fieri rolls out to visit America's favorite diners, drive-ins and dives, interviewing the owners of the food establishments and samples the items on their menus.
Fever Pitch (1997) ::: 6.7/10 -- R | 1h 42min | Comedy, Drama, Romance | 4 April 1997 (UK) -- A sports fan's romantic courtship clashes with his obsession with his favorite football team. Director: David Evans Writers: Nick Hornby (book), Nick Hornby (screenplay)
How It Should Have Ended ::: TV-PG | Animation, Short, Comedy | TV Series (2005 ) A look back at how things would have been if your favorite movies had ended just a little differently. Stars: Daniel Baxter, Stephanie Fisher, Tina Alexander
Kroll Show ::: TV-14 | 30min | Comedy | TV Series (20132015) -- Show highlights Nick Kroll's incredible ability to transform himself into hilarious characters that pop off the screen while bringing many of his popular short-form favorites along for the ride. Creators:
Last Action Hero (1993) ::: 6.4/10 -- PG-13 | 2h 10min | Action, Adventure, Comedy | 18 June 1993 (USA) -- With the help of a magic ticket, a young movie fan is transported into the fictional world of his favorite action movie character. Director: John McTiernan Writers: Zak Penn (story), Adam Leff (story) | 2 more credits
Man's Favorite Sport? (1964) ::: 7.2/10 -- Approved | 2h | Comedy, Romance | 31 January 1964 (USA) -- The author of a best-selling fishing guide is actually incredibly inexperienced when it comes to the sport, which causes mayhem when he is entered into a competition. Director: Howard Hawks Writers:
Mrs. Brown's Boys ::: TV-MA | 25min | Comedy | TV Series (2011 ) -- A comedy centered on a loud-mouthed Irish matriarch whose favorite pastime is meddling in the lives of her six children. Stars: Brendan O'Carroll, Jennifer Gibney, Eilish O'Carroll | See full cast &
My Favorite Brunette (1947) ::: 6.8/10 -- Passed | 1h 27min | Comedy, Crime, Mystery | 4 April 1947 (USA) -- Shortly before his execution on the death row in San Quentin, amateur sleuth and baby photographer Ronnie Jackson, tells reporters how he got there. Director: Elliott Nugent Writers: Edmund Beloin (original screenplay), Jack Rose (original screenplay) Stars:
My Favorite Wife (1940) ::: 7.4/10 -- Approved | 1h 28min | Comedy, Romance | 17 May 1940 (USA) -- Missing for seven years and presumed dead, a woman returns home on the day of her husband's second marriage. Director: Garson Kanin Writers: Bella Spewack (original story), Sam Spewack (original story) (as Samuel
My Favorite Year (1982) ::: 7.4/10 -- PG | 1h 32min | Comedy, Drama | 8 October 1982 (USA) -- A dissolute matinee idol is slated to appear on a live TV variety show. Director: Richard Benjamin Writers: Norman Steinberg (screenplay), Dennis Palumbo (screenplay) | 1 more credit
Phantom of the Opera (1943) ::: 6.4/10 -- Approved | 1h 32min | Drama, Horror, Music | 27 August 1943 (USA) -- An acid-scarred composer rises from the Paris sewers to boost his favorite opera understudy's career. Director: Arthur Lubin Writers: Eric Taylor (screenplay), Samuel Hoffenstein (screenplay) | 2 more credits Stars:
Rocko's Modern Life: Static Cling (2019) ::: 7.0/10 -- TV-Y7 | 45min | Animation, Action, Adventure | TV Movie 9 August 2019 -- After being in space for 20 years, Rocko and his friends attempt to adjust to an even more modern life in the 21st century. However, when he learns that his favorite 90s cartoon isn't on the air anymore, Rocko tries locating its creator. Directors: Joe Murray, Cosmo Segurson Writers:
Shadow of a Doubt (1943) ::: 7.8/10 -- PG | 1h 48min | Film-Noir, Thriller | 15 January 1943 (USA) -- A young girl, overjoyed when her favorite uncle comes to visit the family, slowly begins to suspect that he is in fact the "Merry Widow" killer sought by the authorities. Director: Alfred Hitchcock Writers:
Ao Haru Ride -- -- Production I.G -- 12 eps -- Manga -- Comedy Drama Romance School Shoujo Slice of Life -- Ao Haru Ride Ao Haru Ride -- Futaba Yoshioka used to be an attractive and popular middle-schooler—well liked by the opposite sex, but ostracized by the girls. Nevertheless, she was able to brush all that off, because the only opinion that truly mattered to her was that of Kou Tanaka, a classmate with whom she shared a shelter from rain once, followed by quite a few other precious and significant memories. She even succeeded at making plans to meet with the quiet and innocent boy at the summer festival, but a simple misunderstanding, and Tanaka's subsequent disappearance, left her walking the halls of her school friendless. -- -- Now in high school, Futaba is not your typical adolescent girl. Determined to become a class favorite this time, she avoids all unwanted attention and, instead of acting cute and feminine, only stands out through her tomboyish behavior and disheveled look. But still, her world is soon turned upside down when the only boy she ever liked unexpectedly comes into her life once again—except he goes by the name of Kou Mabuchi now, and it is not his name alone that has gone through a sea change. -- -- -- Licensor: -- Sentai Filmworks -- 638,266 7.66
Durarara!!x2 Ten -- -- Shuka -- 12 eps -- Light novel -- Action Mystery Supernatural -- Durarara!!x2 Ten Durarara!!x2 Ten -- In Ikebukuro, the lives of its citizens continue intertwining with each other as if their fates are predestined. Mikado Ryuugamine is now one step closer to his goal of living an exciting life, and in turn, delves deeper into the darker side of Ikebukuro. After gaining absolute control over a former rival, he uses his newfound power as he pleases, purging the Dollars from the inside to mold it into the ideal organization. This proves to be as challenging as it sounds as Mikado must now deal with unwanted outside interference, most notably a re-emerging and dearly missed friend. Meanwhile, Izaya Orihara still has some schemes up his sleeve, although a rival information exchange center has proven to be quite the hindrance, lurking within everyone’s favorite downtown district. Undoubtedly, sooner or later, chaos will strike again. -- -- -- Licensor: -- Aniplex of America -- 322,624 8.00
Emiya-san Chi no Kyou no Gohan -- -- ufotable -- 13 eps -- Manga -- Slice of Life Comedy -- Emiya-san Chi no Kyou no Gohan Emiya-san Chi no Kyou no Gohan -- With the threat of the Holy Grail War no longer looming over Fuyuki City, its inhabitants can finally enjoy a time of peace. Now that all of the Masters and Servants have adjusted to their new mundane lives, Shirou has taken it upon himself to cook for his household and show Saber the wonders of modern cuisine. Every day, he ventures into the marketplace to see what kind of different meals he can cook up with unique ingredients and a limited budget. However, his legendary skills often attract uninvited guests from all over the city, so there is never a dull moment at dinner with the Emiya family. -- -- As his guests entertain themselves in the living room, Shirou walks through the step-by-step process of creating some of his favorite meals. With delicacies such as his savory New Year soba with shrimp tempura, steamy foil-baked salmon, and cheesy bamboo shoot gratin, everything is up for grabs on his menu. Itadakimasu! -- -- -- Licensor: -- Aniplex of America -- ONA - Jan 25, 2018 -- 89,555 7.81
Emiya-san Chi no Kyou no Gohan -- -- ufotable -- 13 eps -- Manga -- Slice of Life Comedy -- Emiya-san Chi no Kyou no Gohan Emiya-san Chi no Kyou no Gohan -- With the threat of the Holy Grail War no longer looming over Fuyuki City, its inhabitants can finally enjoy a time of peace. Now that all of the Masters and Servants have adjusted to their new mundane lives, Shirou has taken it upon himself to cook for his household and show Saber the wonders of modern cuisine. Every day, he ventures into the marketplace to see what kind of different meals he can cook up with unique ingredients and a limited budget. However, his legendary skills often attract uninvited guests from all over the city, so there is never a dull moment at dinner with the Emiya family. -- -- As his guests entertain themselves in the living room, Shirou walks through the step-by-step process of creating some of his favorite meals. With delicacies such as his savory New Year soba with shrimp tempura, steamy foil-baked salmon, and cheesy bamboo shoot gratin, everything is up for grabs on his menu. Itadakimasu! -- -- ONA - Jan 25, 2018 -- 89,555 7.81
Fate/Extra: Last Encore - Illustrias Tendousetsu -- -- Shaft -- 3 eps -- Game -- Action Fantasy Magic -- Fate/Extra: Last Encore - Illustrias Tendousetsu Fate/Extra: Last Encore - Illustrias Tendousetsu -- After defeating the various Floor Masters of the six prior levels, Hakuno Kishinami and Saber arrive at the top floor of the Moon Cell. Their opponent will be Leonardo B. Harwey—the strongest Master in the history of the Holy Grail War and the current fan favorite, following his previous victory. -- -- As they reach a field of flowers among floating isles, Hakuno, Saber, and Rin Toosaka come across a hooded man tending to the blossoms. Saber immediately draws her blade before the cloaked figure, who reveals himself as Prince Gawain: the Platinum Saber and Knight of the Round Table. However, when Gawain insists that he has no interest in fighting, the four discuss the infinite possibilities for the Holy Grail, with Hakuno determined to return the Moon Cell to its original form. -- -- Their discussion ends with a clangor from afar, ringing through the skies. The threadbare Gawain, knowing its significance, informs the three that not much time remains for their lives. He beckons them towards the final battleground, where the two Sabers shall duel once more to determine the future of mankind. -- -- TV - Jul 29, 2018 -- 48,706 6.54
Full Metal Panic! The Second Raid: Wari to Hima na Sentaichou no Ichinichi -- -- Kyoto Animation -- 1 ep -- Manga -- Comedy -- Full Metal Panic! The Second Raid: Wari to Hima na Sentaichou no Ichinichi Full Metal Panic! The Second Raid: Wari to Hima na Sentaichou no Ichinichi -- On her day off, Tessa wakes up in her commander chair. After regaining her composure, she notices that her favorite stuffed animal is missing and thus tries to remember what actually transpired the night before. To do so, she will spend time with all the main characters of the Danaan crew, and eventually recalls the events of the previous night. -- -- -- Licensor: -- Funimation, Kadokawa Pictures USA -- Special - May 26, 2006 -- 66,064 7.68
Genshiken -- -- Palm Studio -- 12 eps -- Manga -- Slice of Life Comedy Parody -- Genshiken Genshiken -- Kanji Sasahara is an introverted college freshman just looking for a place to fit in. One day, he happens to stumble upon the club known as the Society for the Study of Modern Visual Culture—otherwise known as Genshiken—that serves to bring the full spectrum of otaku culture together. His first visit to the club, however, does not end well as Sasahara's pride is crushed by his senior, Harunobu Madarame, and he leaves the meeting in full denial of his otaku nature. However, after befriending club member Makoto Kousaka, who turns out to be a hardcore otaku despite his looks, Sasahara becomes more involved with club activities which include obsessing over their favorite anime, reading doujinshi, and attending conventions. There, he meets other interesting people like Kousaka's vehemently non-otaku girlfriend Saki Kasukabe, who strives to turn her boyfriend into a "normal guy." -- -- While Saki struggles to understand otaku culture and her boyfriend's love for it, Sasahara finds himself enjoying his time at Genshiken, gradually shedding any denial he once had about being an otaku and immersing himself in an otaku lifestyle. -- -- TV - Oct 10, 2004 -- 153,177 7.66
Gin no Guardian -- -- Haoliners Animation League -- 12 eps -- Web manga -- Adventure Fantasy -- Gin no Guardian Gin no Guardian -- High school student and gamer Suigin Riku attends the prestigious Shinryou Private Academy, a school for the elite and the children of the wealthy. But rich or wealthy are not words that describe Suigin; in fact, he is dirt poor and must work many part time jobs to pay for his tuition. During one such job, he dives into a pool to save his pet cat, fully aware that he cannot swim. Luckily, he is saved by Rei Riku, the beautiful and popular daughter of a game developer, and he falls in love with her. -- -- He is also drawn to another girl: a new friend he meets in Dungeon Century, his favorite online RPG. But when the game is scheduled to shut down, he knows his adventures with her will soon end. However, the day after the game is shut down, he finds out that Rei and the online girl are one and the same. Soon after, Rei gives Suigin a new game meant to replace Dungeon Century—a tomb raiding game called Grave Buster. But when Rei is suddenly kidnapped, Suigin is pulled inside Grave Buster to save her. -- -- Gin no Guardian follows Suigin as he plays through Grave Buster to save Rei, while uncovering the secrets hidden within the game. -- -- -- Licensor: -- Funimation -- 90,940 6.24
Glasslip -- -- P.A. Works -- 13 eps -- Original -- Romance Slice of Life Supernatural -- Glasslip Glasslip -- What if you hold the power to hear the voices or see fragments of images from the future? Would that be a good thing or a bad thing? Glasslip follows the life of Touko Fukami, an aspiring glass artist born from a glass artisan family. She enjoys her worry-free life in Fukui, save for the fragments of images that she sees on occasion. -- -- On her 18th summer, she meets the transfer student Kakeru Okikura at her school, and then again at her favorite café called Kazemichi together with all four of her friends. The voices from the future lead Kakeru to Touko, and his arrival disrupts her mediocre existence. All six of the friends must face their most unforgettable summer full of hope, affection, and heartache. -- 147,366 5.43
Isekai Maou to Shoukan Shoujo no Dorei Majutsu -- -- Ajia-Do -- 12 eps -- Light novel -- Comedy Ecchi Fantasy Harem Magic -- Isekai Maou to Shoukan Shoujo no Dorei Majutsu Isekai Maou to Shoukan Shoujo no Dorei Majutsu -- When it comes to the fantasy MMORPG Cross Reverie, none can match the power of the Demon King Diablo. Possessing the game's rarest artifacts and an unrivaled player level, he overpowers all foolish enough to confront him. But despite his fearsome reputation, Diablo's true identity is Takuma Sakamoto, a shut-in gamer devoid of any social skills. Defeating hopeless challengers day by day, Takuma cares about nothing else but his virtual life—that is, until a summoning spell suddenly transports him to another world where he has Diablo's appearance! -- -- In this new world resembling his favorite game, Takuma is greeted by the two girls who summoned him: Rem Galeu, a petite Pantherian adventurer, and Shera L. Greenwood, a busty Elf summoner. They perform an Enslavement Ritual in an attempt to subjugate him, but the spell backfires and causes them to become his slaves instead. With the situation now becoming more awkward than ever, Takuma decides to accompany the girls in finding a way to unbind their contract while learning to adapt to his new existence as the menacing Demon King. -- -- -- Licensor: -- Funimation -- 470,797 6.95
Isekai Quartet -- -- Studio PuYUKAI -- 12 eps -- Original -- Comedy Fantasy Parody -- Isekai Quartet Isekai Quartet -- It is a normal day; everyone from deranged military girl Tanya Degurechaff and 16-year-old isekai protagonist Satou Kazuma to expansionist overlord Ainz Ooal Gown and demon sisters Rem and Ram go on with their daily lives. Suddenly, a conspicuous red button begging to be pressed appears before them. Overcome by curiosity, the otherworldly characters push the button, sending them to an unfamiliar world. -- -- With no way of escaping, the characters must lead a normal school life and make acquaintances with the others. One thing is certain: the classroom full of fan-favorite eccentric personalities never gets boring! -- -- 291,946 7.44
Isekai Shokudou -- -- SILVER LINK. -- 12 eps -- Light novel -- Comedy Fantasy Mystery -- Isekai Shokudou Isekai Shokudou -- Western Restaurant Nekoya is a popular eatery located on a street corner in a Tokyo shopping district. Serving both traditional Japanese fare as well as Western dishes, this eating establishment is popular among Tokyo's residents. But this seemingly ordinary restaurant is also popular with another type of clientele... -- -- While the restaurant is thought to be closed on Saturdays, the truth is that on this special day each week, its doors are instead opened to the inhabitants of other worlds. From dragons and elves to fairies and mages, this restaurant has no shortage of strange customers. Nevertheless, the enigmatic chef known only as "Master" will be waiting to serve up their favorite dishes with a kind smile and keep them coming back for many more Saturdays to come. -- -- 156,380 7.34
Isekai Shokudou -- -- SILVER LINK. -- 12 eps -- Light novel -- Comedy Fantasy Mystery -- Isekai Shokudou Isekai Shokudou -- Western Restaurant Nekoya is a popular eatery located on a street corner in a Tokyo shopping district. Serving both traditional Japanese fare as well as Western dishes, this eating establishment is popular among Tokyo's residents. But this seemingly ordinary restaurant is also popular with another type of clientele... -- -- While the restaurant is thought to be closed on Saturdays, the truth is that on this special day each week, its doors are instead opened to the inhabitants of other worlds. From dragons and elves to fairies and mages, this restaurant has no shortage of strange customers. Nevertheless, the enigmatic chef known only as "Master" will be waiting to serve up their favorite dishes with a kind smile and keep them coming back for many more Saturdays to come. -- -- -- Licensor: -- Funimation -- 156,380 7.34
Karakurizoushi Ayatsuri Sakon -- -- TMS Entertainment -- 26 eps -- Manga -- Mystery Horror Thriller Shounen -- Karakurizoushi Ayatsuri Sakon Karakurizoushi Ayatsuri Sakon -- The dark-haired bishounen is Sakon Tachibana, a puppeteer, and the other is Ukon, his favorite puppet, and best friend. Sakon is the (only) grandson of Saemon Tachibana, a national treasure of Japan famous for his manipulation of Bunraku puppets. Ukon is a child doll puppet made in the early Meiji era by the famous female dollmaker Unosuke. Together they run into murders and solve them. -- -- (Source: AnimeNfo) -- 9,853 7.38
Kono Danshi, Mahou ga Oshigoto Desu. -- -- CoMix Wave Films -- 4 eps -- Original -- Magic Fantasy Shounen Ai -- Kono Danshi, Mahou ga Oshigoto Desu. Kono Danshi, Mahou ga Oshigoto Desu. -- Chiharu Kashima, captain of the Wizard Bureau's Crisis Countermeasures Division, is among a handful of people who can use magic. While frequenting his favorite bar, he is approached by a friendly man named Toyohi Utsumi. Having always dreamt of being a wizard, Toyohi is enthralled by the idea of meeting one. Much to the young Captain's surprise, Toyohi confesses that he has fallen in love with Kashima. While little time as passed, the two begin to spend more time together. Not all is well, however, as Kashima fears that magic is all that he has and Toyohi is only in love with Kashima the Wizard. -- -- 23,086 7.03
Kurokami The Animation -- -- Sunrise -- 23 eps -- Manga -- Action Super Power Martial Arts Seinen -- Kurokami The Animation Kurokami The Animation -- High school student Ibuki Keita has been haunted by misfortune for as long as he can remember. For no apparent reason, everyone around him dies tragically. Ultimately, he refuses to become too close to anyone, even his childhood friend Akane. This leaves Keita alone in a life full of misery and disgrace. -- -- While eating at his favorite ramen shop one evening, Keita meets a strange young girl named Kuro. Possessing abilities that surpass that of a normal human being, Kuro classifies herself as a Mototsumitama. She explains to Keita about "Terra," a life-energy force split between three identical looking people; a global phenomenon dubbed the "Doppeliner System." As a Mototsumitama, Kuro guards the "Coexistence Equilibrium," the beings that protect the flow of Terra around the world. Keita refuses to believe her story, until he is caught up in the crossfire of this hidden world. On the verge of death, he makes a contract with Kuro, unbeknownst to its true meaning. Now he is bound to Kuro, and must be with her at all times. Could Keita's misfortune possibly get any greater? -- -- -- Licensor: -- Bandai Entertainment, NYAV Post, Sentai Filmworks -- 108,073 7.16
Mahouka Koukou no Rettousei: Tsuioku-hen -- -- - -- ? eps -- Light novel -- Sci-Fi Supernatural Magic -- Mahouka Koukou no Rettousei: Tsuioku-hen Mahouka Koukou no Rettousei: Tsuioku-hen -- Looking at Miyuki and Tatsuya now, it might be hard to imagine them as anything other than loving siblings. But it wasn't always this way.. -- -- Three years ago, Miyuki was always uncomfortable around her older brother. The rest of their family treated him no better than a lowly servant, even though he was the perfect Guardian, watching over Miyuki while she lived a normal middle school life. But what really bothered her was that he never showed any emotions or thoughts of his own. -- -- However, when danger comes calling during a fateful trip to Okinawa, their relationship as brother and sister will change forever… -- -- (Source: Yen Press) -- - - ??? ??, ???? -- 25,203 N/ASakasama no Patema: Beginning of the Day -- -- Purple Cow Studio Japan, Studio Rikka -- 4 eps -- - -- Sci-Fi -- Sakasama no Patema: Beginning of the Day Sakasama no Patema: Beginning of the Day -- This is an online distribution of the prologue of the movie, illustrating the first day of the entire story. -- -- A world, forever beyond your expectations. -- -- In a dark, cramped, underground world of endless tunnels and shafts, people wear protective suits and live out their modest yet happy lives. The princess of the underground community, Patema, goes out exploring as always, inspired by her curiosity of the unknown depths of the world. -- -- Her favorite spot is the "danger zone," an area forbidden by the "rule" of the community. Despite being frequently chastised by her caretaker Jii, she cannot hold back her curiosity for the reason behind the rule, because no one would tell her what the "danger" was. When she approaches the hidden "secret," the story begins. -- -- (Source: translation of a synopsis from the nicovideo news) -- Special - Feb 26, 2012 -- 25,203 7.38
Majo no Tabitabi -- -- C2C -- 12 eps -- Light novel -- Adventure Magic Fantasy -- Majo no Tabitabi Majo no Tabitabi -- Since childhood, Elaina has always been fascinated by the stories written within her favorite book, especially those about Nike, a renowned witch who had numerous great travels across the world. Wanting to experience the awe of adventure herself, Elaina strives to become a witch, and despite the numerous trials that come her way, she eventually succeeds. -- -- Now a full-fledged witch, Elaina finally embarks on her long-awaited journey, in which she meets many people along the way, learning their various stories. Through all of this, she explores the world at its fullest—experiencing both its bright and dark sides—starting her legendary tale. -- -- 224,142 7.55
Majo no Tabitabi -- -- C2C -- 12 eps -- Light novel -- Adventure Magic Fantasy -- Majo no Tabitabi Majo no Tabitabi -- Since childhood, Elaina has always been fascinated by the stories written within her favorite book, especially those about Nike, a renowned witch who had numerous great travels across the world. Wanting to experience the awe of adventure herself, Elaina strives to become a witch, and despite the numerous trials that come her way, she eventually succeeds. -- -- Now a full-fledged witch, Elaina finally embarks on her long-awaited journey, in which she meets many people along the way, learning their various stories. Through all of this, she explores the world at its fullest—experiencing both its bright and dark sides—starting her legendary tale. -- -- -- Licensor: -- Funimation -- 224,142 7.55
Megachu! -- -- - -- 3 eps -- Visual novel -- Hentai Supernatural -- Megachu! Megachu! -- Based on an adult game by Front Wing. -- -- Kousuke is an everyday nice-guy college kid who suffers from a reoccurring nightmare where he's a rampaging sex demon. He just can't figure out why that is, as he sits down to play his favorite video games like Magical Girl Lape-chan. One day a beautiful Goddess named Fauna appears before him, not to grant wishes, but to destroy him! It seems Kousuke has the power of an evil demon sleeping inside of him. Luckily, Fauna decides on an alternate means of stopping the demon, which involves lots of sex with her and sexy older sister (and love potion maker) Jordh. Unluckily, there's Natsuki, a little devil with plans of her own for Kousuke. -- -- (Source: AniDB) -- OVA - Jul 25, 2007 -- 6,682 6.52
Miss Monochrome The Animation -- -- LIDENFILMS, SANZIGEN -- 13 eps -- Original -- Music Slice of Life Comedy -- Miss Monochrome The Animation Miss Monochrome The Animation -- "Miss Monochrome" is an original character design from seiyuu Horie Yui. In March 2012, she first used the "Miss Monochrome" character as a 3D virtual singer to sing her songs at her concert "Horie Yui wo Meguru Bouken III ~Secret Mission Tour~." Later, the character appeared in a range of merchandise as well as in the social network game "Girlfriend (Beta)." -- -- According to the setting, Miss Monochrome loves only the monochrome style, dislikes all kinds of color, and always dreams about changing the world into her favorite monochrome color. -- -- (Source: MAL News) -- -- Licensor: -- Crunchyroll -- 43,707 6.40
New Game! -- -- Doga Kobo -- 12 eps -- 4-koma manga -- Game Slice of Life Comedy -- New Game! New Game! -- Since childhood, Aoba Suzukaze has loved the Fairies Story game series, particularly the character designs. So when she graduates from high school, it is no surprise that she applies to work at Eagle Jump, the company responsible for making her favorite video game. On her first day, she is excited to learn that she will be working on a new installment to the series: Fairies Story 3—and even more so under Kou Yagami, the lead character designer. -- -- In their department are people who share the same passion for games. There is Yun Iijima, whose specialty is designing monsters; the shy Hifumi Takimoto, who prefers to communicate through instant messaging; Hajime Shinoda, an animation team member with an impressive figurine collection; Rin Tooyama, the orderly art director; Shizuku Hazuki, the game director who brings her cat to work; and Umiko Ahagon, the short-tempered head programmer. -- -- New Game! follows Aoba and the others on their adventure through the ups and downs of game making, from making the perfect character design to fixing all the errors that will inevitably accumulate in the process. -- -- 346,352 7.60
New Game! -- -- Doga Kobo -- 12 eps -- 4-koma manga -- Game Slice of Life Comedy -- New Game! New Game! -- Since childhood, Aoba Suzukaze has loved the Fairies Story game series, particularly the character designs. So when she graduates from high school, it is no surprise that she applies to work at Eagle Jump, the company responsible for making her favorite video game. On her first day, she is excited to learn that she will be working on a new installment to the series: Fairies Story 3—and even more so under Kou Yagami, the lead character designer. -- -- In their department are people who share the same passion for games. There is Yun Iijima, whose specialty is designing monsters; the shy Hifumi Takimoto, who prefers to communicate through instant messaging; Hajime Shinoda, an animation team member with an impressive figurine collection; Rin Tooyama, the orderly art director; Shizuku Hazuki, the game director who brings her cat to work; and Umiko Ahagon, the short-tempered head programmer. -- -- New Game! follows Aoba and the others on their adventure through the ups and downs of game making, from making the perfect character design to fixing all the errors that will inevitably accumulate in the process. -- -- -- Licensor: -- Crunchyroll, Funimation -- 346,352 7.60
Nodame Cantabile: Nodame to Chiaki no Umi Monogatari -- -- J.C.Staff -- 1 ep -- Manga -- Comedy Josei Romance Slice of Life -- Nodame Cantabile: Nodame to Chiaki no Umi Monogatari Nodame Cantabile: Nodame to Chiaki no Umi Monogatari -- World-class conductor Franz von Stresemann sends his favorite music students Shinichi Chiaki, Megumi "Nodame" Noda, Ryuutarou Mine, and Masumi Okuyama to the Nina Lutz Music Festival in Nagano to study under other famous masters. During their car ride, Chiaki is irritated by his friends' antics, but later wakes up from a nap to discover that they took a detour to a beach in Niigata. Mine tans under the bright sun while Nodame and Masumi enjoy a refreshing swim; Chiaki sits inside the beach club, trying his best to hide his fear of the sea. When Nodame suggests renting an inflatable boat to row over to a small island, will Chiaki be able to keep his secret? -- -- Special - Feb 16, 2008 -- 25,985 7.38
Nourin -- -- SILVER LINK. -- 12 eps -- Light novel -- Comedy Parody Romance Ecchi School -- Nourin Nourin -- Idol-obsessed Kousaku Hata is left devastated when his favorite, Yuka Kusakabe, unexpectedly announces her retirement at the peak of an illustrious career. As Yuka’s biggest fan, this news proves to be more difficult than he can bear. Shaken to his very core, he sinks into depression and places himself in self-imposed isolation. However, on the day his friends managed to convince him to attend school again, he gets a pleasant surprise. -- -- It turns out that his beloved idol, under the guise of Ringo Kinoshita, has transferred into his class. This miraculous development fills Kousaku with newfound resolve, as he dedicates himself to take advantage of the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. With the support of his teacher and friends, Kousaku works toward getting close to the girl of his dreams and uncovering the reason for her retirement from the entertainment industry. -- -- TV - Jan 11, 2014 -- 152,252 6.81
Nyanpire The Animation -- -- Gonzo -- 12 eps -- Manga -- Comedy Supernatural Vampire -- Nyanpire The Animation Nyanpire The Animation -- A heartwarming story about a stray black cat, who was given blood from a vampire. He was taken in by a girl called Misaki and started to live with her. Nyanpire's favorite phrase is "Give me blood nya." -- 24,869 6.68
Ojisan to Marshmallow -- -- Creators in Pack -- 12 eps -- Web manga -- Slice of Life Comedy Romance -- Ojisan to Marshmallow Ojisan to Marshmallow -- Habahiro Hige is a simple-minded older man who works an office job and is an enthusiast of Tabekko Marshmallows. His days often consist of being teased by his 24-year-old colleague Iori Wakabayashi, who uses his obsession to her advantage: from eating them in front of his face, to buying out his favorite brand from the convenience store, and even embarrassing him in front of their boss. Although her friends cannot fathom what she sees in him, she just cannot get over his marshmallow-like, fluffy frame. No matter the lengths it takes, Iori will find a way to get his attention. -- -- Little does Habahiro know that she is trying to seduce him into a romantic relationship with her. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, right? At least this is what Iori would honestly like to believe. With a bag in hand, Iori continues to make him chase after her day after day, hoping that he will finally see through her attempts. Will he ever realize that their relationship can become s'more? -- -- 55,184 6.60
Oshi ga Budoukan Ittekuretara Shinu -- -- 8bit -- 12 eps -- Manga -- Comedy Music Seinen Shoujo Ai Slice of Life -- Oshi ga Budoukan Ittekuretara Shinu Oshi ga Budoukan Ittekuretara Shinu -- A girl is obsessed with her favorite idol, a minor member of a less popular group, enough that she says she'd die to see her play at Budoukan. -- -- Licensor: -- Funimation -- 30,032 7.45
Rokudenashi Majutsu Koushi to Akashic Records -- -- LIDENFILMS -- 12 eps -- Light novel -- Action Magic Fantasy School -- Rokudenashi Majutsu Koushi to Akashic Records Rokudenashi Majutsu Koushi to Akashic Records -- The Alzano Empire is home to one of the most distinguished magic schools in the world: the Alzano Imperial Magic Academy. Here, ambitious young students undergo training to become competent magicians. Sistine Fibel—a stern noble girl—and her bright-eyed best friend Rumia Tingel attend the Academy, determined to cultivate their magical skills. -- -- However, their world is thrown for a loop when their favorite teacher suddenly retires and the enigmatic Glenn Radars replaces him. His lazy and indifferent attitude toward life and magic quickly puts him at odds with his class. What's more, nefarious forces hidden within the empire's walls start to become active, and Sistine, Rumia, and Glenn find themselves caught up in their schemes. -- -- Rokudenashi Majutsu Koushi to Akashic Records follows Sistine, who is captivated by a mysterious floating Sky Castle; Rumia, who is haunted by a troubled past; and Glenn, who may be more than meets the eye. Though completely different on the surface, they are inexplicably bound together by a thread of fate. -- -- -- Licensor: -- Funimation -- 506,868 7.18
Shingeki! Kyojin Chuugakkou -- -- Production I.G -- 12 eps -- Manga -- Comedy Parody School Shounen -- Shingeki! Kyojin Chuugakkou Shingeki! Kyojin Chuugakkou -- On his first day of junior high, Eren Yeager comes face-to-face with a titan—and has his lunch stolen! From that day on, he holds a grudge against titans for taking his favorite food from him, a cheeseburger, vowing to eliminate their kind once and for all. Along with his adoptive sister Mikasa Ackerman and their friend Armin Arlert, the trio traverse the halls of Titan Junior High, encountering familiar faces and participating in various extracurricular activities as part of the Wall Cleanup Club. -- -- A parody of the immensely popular parent series, Shingeki! Kyojin Chuugakkou places beloved characters as junior high school students, fighting to protect their lunches from gluttonous titans. -- -- 173,648 7.10
Show By Rock!! -- -- Bones -- 12 eps -- Game -- Comedy Music -- Show By Rock!! Show By Rock!! -- The great music adventure in Show by Rock!! begins after Cyan decides to play her favorite rhythm game and suddenly gets sucked in, finding herself in a world called Midi City where music reigns supreme. She learns that anyone who delivers amazing and powerful music also has the ability to control the city. However, not all music is pure. An evil plan is set in motion to engulf the whole Midi City in darkness. Is it too late for Cyan to do something? -- -- Cyan Hijirikawa always regards herself as nothing but an ordinary girl living in a mediocre world. She has great talent and extreme guitar skills, but she also lacks the confidence to take the first step in realizing her dream to play in a band and be a music millionaire! Little did she know that an eminent power resides deep within herself—the power to defeat evil with her magical music! -- -- Join Cyan, Chuchu, Retoree and Moa in a world where music is everything. -- -- Licensor: -- Funimation -- 69,003 7.04
Tokyo Babylon 2021 -- -- - -- ? eps -- Manga -- Supernatural Drama Fantasy Shoujo Shounen Ai -- Tokyo Babylon 2021 Tokyo Babylon 2021 -- Subaru Sumeragi is the thirteenth head of his powerful onmyouji clan. Until the time comes when he must succeed his grandmother fully, Subaru is allowed to live in Tokyo with his fraternal twin Hokuto. While Subaru is kind and shy, Hokuto has exuberance to spare, and her favorite pastime is designing bold matching outfits for the two of them to wear. Her next favorite thing to do is try to set up Subaru with their veterinarian friend Seishirou Sakurazuka who, oddly enough, is always readily available to accompany the Sumeragis throughout the city. -- -- Subaru has to resolve a variety of spiritual conflicts in Tokyo: some are cases formally brought to him by clients, and others are matters in which he decides to involve himself. A selfless teenager, he empathizes with others to the point that their pain may as well be his own. This leaves him vulnerable in a city where nearly everyone makes decisions that only benefit themselves as individuals. Hokuto hopes that if Subaru develops feelings for Seishirou, their relationship will be the one thing that he never gives up for the sake of anyone else. However, is Seishirou the best candidate for her brother's love, or is he hiding sinister secrets? -- -- TV - ??? ??, ???? -- 5,853 N/ANight Head 2041 -- -- Shirogumi -- ? eps -- Other -- Sci-Fi Mystery Psychological Supernatural Drama -- Night Head 2041 Night Head 2041 -- The story follows the Kirihara brothers who from a young age were incarcerated in a secure scientific facility due to their supernatural powers, having escaped after the barrier that was preventing them malfunctions. The story also follows the Kuroki brothers who are trying to chase the Kirihara brothers. -- -- (Source: MAL News) -- TV - Jul ??, 2021 -- 5,779 N/A -- -- Jie Mo Ren -- -- - -- 14 eps -- Web manga -- Action Mystery Supernatural Fantasy -- Jie Mo Ren Jie Mo Ren -- When Freshman Zhou Xiaoan put on a ring of unclear origin, a terrifying devil leaps from his mouth and his life is changed forever. Shocking historical secrets are slowly revealed - a Blood Devil calling itself King Zhou of Shang, a race of heart-eating zombies; a dubious group of Taoist Priests that fight against them; mysterious beings of the supernatural world who can blend in to human society. -- -- (Source: GFearJ) -- ONA - Apr 27, 2016 -- 5,744 6.18
Tsumiki no Ie -- -- Oh! Production -- 1 ep -- Original -- Drama -- Tsumiki no Ie Tsumiki no Ie -- In a flooded town where the waters are ever-rising, an old man must constantly build new floors onto his home in order to keep dry. But when his favorite smoking pipe falls into the watery abyss beneath him, he dives into the depths of not only his house, but memories of years past. -- -- Tsumiki no Ie is a short film about the everlasting effect of time on one's life—how it can swallow the past entirely, and how one must learn to continue moving forward despite what has already happened. -- -- Movie - Jun 10, 2008 -- 79,458 8.07
Viewtiful Joe -- -- Group TAC -- 51 eps -- Game -- Action Sci-Fi Comedy Shounen -- Viewtiful Joe Viewtiful Joe -- Joe, a red-headed movie buff, and Silvia, his girlfriend, are having a bit of relationship trouble. Silvia feels that Joe is taking her for-granted and wants to do something together for once, so Joe decides to take her to see an old action movie featuring his favorite hero, Captain Blue. What started out as a cute movie date takes a turn for the worst when Silvia is pulled into the movie by the leader of the evil organization, Jado. -- -- Joe follows her into the mysterious "Movieland," and is granted a powerful device known as a V-Watch by Captain Blue himself. With it, he transforms into the action hero named "Viewtiful Joe" and goes off to rescue his girlfriend before she can be used by Jado to take over the world. It's a long road to go from average Joe to full-blown hero, but he'll give it his all to save both his girl and the world—and he'll do it in the most "view-ti-ful" way possible. -- -- Licensor: -- Geneon Entertainment USA -- 9,724 6.75
Watashi ga Motete Dousunda -- -- Brain's Base -- 12 eps -- Manga -- Harem Comedy Romance School Shoujo -- Watashi ga Motete Dousunda Watashi ga Motete Dousunda -- Kae Serinuma is a very kind second-year high school student and a devoted otaku. A little known fact about her, though, is that she's obsessed with BL, or Boy's Love. Serinuma can't help but to fantasize about her male classmates falling for each other and enjoys imagining them together. A more known fact about Serinuma, however, is that she’s noticeably overweight. -- -- While watching her favorite show one day, Serinuma witnesses the death of her most beloved character. Utterly depressed, she can't muster up the energy to eat her meals, let alone attend school. After an entire week, she finally recovers. But now there's something unusual about her—during the time she refused to leave her room, she ended up losing a large amount of weight and has somehow become strikingly beautiful! -- -- Now catching the eye of everyone who sees her, she finds herself at the center of attention of four boys she has always known at her school. Though they all wish to spend time with her, Serinuma would much rather they spend time falling in love with one another. How will Serinuma deal with the four boys pursuing her BL-obsessed self? -- -- 314,418 7.08
Wooser no Sono Higurashi -- -- SANZIGEN -- 12 eps -- Web manga -- Slice of Life Comedy Fantasy -- Wooser no Sono Higurashi Wooser no Sono Higurashi -- Lovely, but with a dark heart. The hand-to-mouth life of a strange yellow and black creature named "Wooser". Lovely but with a dark heart, the new hero (?) from the depths of the internet is appearing on TV and Nico Nico Video! "My favorite things are meat and money and girls," he says, but what are his cute, round eyes staring at? (* Probably meat, money, or girls) The strange hand-to-mouth life of this strange creature is now being animated by Sanzigen, famous for their 3D CG animations! Do note that the dot in the middle is supposedly a mouth, not a nose. -- -- (Source: Crunchyroll) -- 10,739 6.23
Working!!! -- -- A-1 Pictures -- 13 eps -- 4-koma manga -- Comedy Romance Seinen Slice of Life -- Working!!! Working!!! -- As the stories of those connected to Wagnaria come to a close, only one thing is certain: the workplace is about to get crazier than ever before! Whether it be incredibly awkward romances, relentless searches for lost relatives, or even uncomfortable family reunions, lover of all things cute and tiny Souta Takanashi and his motley crew have plenty on their plates. With more Napoleon complexes, androphobia, and katana-wielding than you can shake a frying pan at, Working!!! delivers a final serving of the staff's hilarious misadventures working at everybody's favorite family restaurant. -- -- 201,076 8.01
Working!!! -- -- A-1 Pictures -- 13 eps -- 4-koma manga -- Comedy Romance Seinen Slice of Life -- Working!!! Working!!! -- As the stories of those connected to Wagnaria come to a close, only one thing is certain: the workplace is about to get crazier than ever before! Whether it be incredibly awkward romances, relentless searches for lost relatives, or even uncomfortable family reunions, lover of all things cute and tiny Souta Takanashi and his motley crew have plenty on their plates. With more Napoleon complexes, androphobia, and katana-wielding than you can shake a frying pan at, Working!!! delivers a final serving of the staff's hilarious misadventures working at everybody's favorite family restaurant. -- -- -- Licensor: -- Aniplex of America -- 201,076 8.01
Yasashii Kinyoubi -- -- - -- 1 ep -- Original -- Dementia -- Yasashii Kinyoubi Yasashii Kinyoubi -- An animation mixing hand-drawn and cut-out techniques depicting the daily rituals of weekday morning that is occasionally interrupted by flights of fantasy delivered in stroboscopic flashes. Showing scenes of brushing teeth and face washing, Tanaami describes the film to be like a self-portrait on his favorite day of the week. -- -- (Source: Collaborative Cataloging Japan) -- Movie - ??? ??, 1975 -- 897 4.07
Aechmea 'Foster's Favorite'
Aechmea 'Foster's Favorite Favorite'
America's Favorite Architecture
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Christmas Favorites (Sara Niemietz EP)
Connie Francis and Hank Williams Jr. Sing Great Country Favorites
Connie Francis Sings Folk Song Favorites
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George Jones Sings White Lightning and Other Favorites
God's Favorite Customer
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Lay the Favorite
Man's Favorite Sport?
Mark Twain and Other Folk Favorites
MTV Asia Award for Favorite Artist Malaysia
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My Favorite Brunette
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