A nonhuman animal had better have a good lawyer. In 1508, Bartholomé Chassenée earned fame and fortune for his eloquent representation of the rats of his French province. These rats had been charged with destroying the barley crop and also with ignoring the court order to appear and defend themselves. Bartholomé Chassenée argued successfully that the rats hadn't come because the court had failed to provide reasonable protection from the village cats along the route.
.../he was asked to march to the front hall and retrieve his backpack. He did so with the energy of a convicted killer on his way to the execution chamber. Harold's backpack was an encyclopedia of boyhood interests and suggested that Harold was well on his way to a promising career as a homeless person. Inside, if one dug down through various geological layers, one could find old pretzels, juice boxes, toy cars, Pokemon cards, PSP games/.../The backpack weighed slightly less than a Volkswagen.
Hallucinations are bad enough. But after awhile you learn to cope with things like seeing your dead grandmother crawling up your leg with a knife in her teeth. Most acid fanciers can handle this sort of thing. But nobody can handle that other trip-the possibility that any freak with $1.98 can walk into the Circus-Circus and suddenly appear in the sky over downtown Las Vegas twelve times the size of God, howling anything that comes into his head. No, this is not a good town for psychedelic drugs.
Harry — I think I've just understood something! I've got to go to the library!”And she sprinted away, up the stairs.“What does she understand?” said Harry distractedly, still looking around, trying to tell where the voice had come from.“Loads more than I do,” said Ron, shaking his head.“But why’s she got to go to the library?”“Because that’s what Hermione does,” said Ron, shrugging. “When in doubt, go to the library.
Right, then.” He pointed across to a bank of phones against the wall. “If you want to check your voice mail, now’s the time.”“Where’s my phone?”“Out of service.”“It was fine in the car.”“It’s not fine now.”“What’d you do to it?”“Put it out of our misery. I’m sorry, Kate. But every minute it’s on, you’re traceable to within the length of a football field, anywhere on the planet.
Shigure: JUST LISTEN TO ME FOR A SECOND, KYO!Kyo: SHUT UP! I HATE THIS! DO YOU REALLY GET THAT MUCH ENJOYMENT FROM PLAYING WITH PEOPLES' LIVES?!Shigure: Well, yes, now that you mention it, I do--BUT THIS IS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD!Kyo: Man, your persuasion skills SUCK!Tohru: Um, welcome home. Dinner's-Kyo: NOT HUNGRY!Shigure: KYO! DON'T TAKE THIS OUT ON TOHRU! And come back to the entrance hall this instant and take those shoes off!Yuki: He's right, Shigure. You really do suck at persuasion.
...[G]reat progress was evident in the last Congress of the American 'Labour Union' in that among other things, it treated working women with complete equality. While in this respect the English, and still more the gallant French, are burdened with a spirit of narrow-mindedness. Anybody who knows anything of history knows that great social changes are impossible without the feminine ferment. Social progress can be measured exactly by the social position of the fair sex (the ugly ones included).
There was some women in a café the other week that I was sat in, and she came up and she sat down with her mate and she was talkin' loudly goin' on about "oh the baby's lovely." They said it's got, er, lovely big eyes, er, really big hands and feet. Now that doesn't sound like a nice baby to me. I felt like sayin' it sounds like a frog. But I thought I don't know her, there's only so much you can say to a stranger. I don't know what kept me from sayin' it.
Then you remember the dream,” Mencheres stated. “That bodes ill.” The fear of that made my reply snappy. “Hey, Walks Like An Egyptian, how about for once you drop the formal stuff and talk like you live in the twenty-first century?” The shit’s gonna splatter, start buggin’, yo,” Mencheres responded instantly. I stared at him, then burst out laughing, which was highly inappropriate considering the very grave warning he’d just conveyed.
And, whoa!" He turned to Mr.D. "Your the wine dude? No way!"Mr.D turned hi eyes away from me and gave Nico a look of loathing. "The wine dude?""Dionysus, right? Oh, wow! I've got your figurine!""My figurine.""In my game, Mythomagic. And holofoil card, too! And even though you've only got like five hundred attack points and everybody thinks your the lamest god card, I totally think your powers are sweet!""Ah." Mr.D seemed truly perplexed, which probably saved my life. "Well, that's...gratifying.
...Recognising, as I do, that you are the second highest expert in Europe--""Indeed, sir! May I inquire who has the honour to be the first?" Asked Holmes, with some asperity."To the man of precised, scientific mind the work of Monsieur Bertillon must always appeal strongly.""Then had you not better consult him?""I said, sir, to the precisely scientific mind. But as a practical man of affairs it is acknowledged that you stand alone. I trust, sir, that I have not inadvertently--""Just a little," said Holmes.
He gazed amusedly down the table at Tessa. “You’re the shape-changer, aren’t you?” he said. “Magnus Bane told me about you. No mark on you at all, they say.” Tessa swallowed and looked him straight in the eye. They were discordantly human eyes, ordinary in his extraordinary face. “No. No mark.” He grinned around his fork. “I do suppose they’ve looked everywhere?” “I’m sure Will’s tried,” said Jessamine in a bored tone.
This is what it's all been about with you," he said in an even tone. "All the fear, allthe running. The nightmares." When she nodded, he said, "You called him the devil.""He is." What are you thinking, Scot?"But you... married him?"MacRieve's disgusted with me. "Basically? Yes.""Ceremony and everything?"She swallowed. "He tricked me into it. I-I was only sixteen."A muscle ticked in his cheek and his irises grew pale. "Then know this..."She stopped breathing."Lass, I'm about to make you a widow--
I love books, by the way, way more than movies. Movies tell you what to think. A good book lets you choose a few thoughts for yourself. Movies show you the pink house. A good book tells you there's a pink house and lets you paint some of the finishing touches, maybe choose the roof style,park your own car out front. My imagination has always topped anything a movie could come up with. Case in point, those darned Harry Potter movies. That was so not what that part-Veela-chick, Fleur Delacour, looked like.
Boys", Buffy hissed through clenched teeth, "being quiet is an important part of sneaking.""Oh, sorry", Xander said, reducing his voice to a whisper."Besides, ritual sacrifice is a religious rite", Giles went on quietly. "They wouldn't sacrifice just anyone at random. It's far more likely they'd suspect you of being a Roman spy scouting for the invasion and just outright kill you"."Oh great! Great! Way to be encouraging Giles. And I suppose you'll just watch that happen, in your Watchery way.
