The Classical Study (3) The Master has forgotten his hat. Without his hat he cannot fly. Without his hat his dreams escape up. Without his hat he cannot tip his hat to that woman passing by whom he remembers from somewhere, as in a dream, a room in a dream or maybe a beach, a beach by the sea, blindingly white, hatless, he and she.
I never had a hat, never wore one, but recently was given a brown suede duck-hunting hat. The moment I put it on I realized I was starved for a hat. I kept it warm by putting it on my head. I made plans to wear it especially when I was going to do any thinking. Somewhere in Virginia, I lost my hat.
The Groke looked at the hat. Then she looked at Thingumy and Bob. Then she looked at the hat again. You could see that she was thinking with all her might. Then suddenly she snatched the hat and, without a word, slithered like ann icy grey shadow into the forest. It was the last time she was seen in the Valley of the Moomins, and the last they saw of the Hobgoblin's Hat, too. At once the colors became warmer again and the garden was filled with the sounds and scents of summer.
Cold weather probably played a bigger role in bringing back the hat, but sadly, the hat common to New Jersey guidos, South Carolina rednecks, Idaho potato farmers and Los Angeles gang bangers is the ubiquitous 'tractor hat,' which is derived from the cheap baseball style cap with the adjustable plastic tab.
When what we see catches us off guard, and when we write it as realistically and openly as possible, it offers hope. You look around and say, Wow, there's that same mockingbird; there's that woman in the red hat again. The woman in the red hat is about hope because she's in it up to her neck, too, yet every day she puts on that crazy red hat and walks to town.
Margueritte hat einen Abschluss. Nicht ur einen popeligen Abschluss wie die mittlere Reife, die jeder Dahergelaufene hat (na ja, bis auf mich), sondern sie hat ein richtiges Studium hinter sich. So was dauert so lange, dass man schon alt ist, wenn man damit fertig wird, und keine Zeit mehr hat, genug Arbeitsjahre zusammenzubringen, um eine anste¤ndige Rente zu kriegen.
THE OTHER DAY I TOOK A WALK BECAUSE THE AIR WAS SWEET THEN I PASSED THE CRUSTY HOUSE OF A CURMUDGEON ON MY STREET NOW EVERY TOWN'S GOT ONE AND I'M SURE YOU'LL UNDERSTAND WHEN I TELL THIS OL' BASTARD WAS A MEAN AND BITTER MAN NOW ON THIS DAY IT WAS SPECIAL I WAS WEARING MY NEW HAT THE OL' CURMUDGEON SAW THIS AND HE DISAPPROVED OF THAT HE SAID "I HAD ONE JUST LIKE IT FOR TEN YEARS, YA RIPPED ME OFF! YOU GOT NO RIGHT TO WEAR A HAT LIKE MINE SO TAKE IT OFF!" NOW AS IT HAPPENS I'M A GENTLEMAN SO I APPROACHED HIS PORCH I TOLD HIM "GREAT MINDS THINK ALIKE AND YOU HAVE ONE OF COURSE SO HOW ABOUT I JUST TIP MY HAT TO YOU WHEN I COME THROUGH?" HE REACHED DOWN FOR HIS GUN AND SAID "I'LL SHOOT YOU IF YOU DO!"
I`ve got a black woolen hat and it`s got Pervert written across the front of it. It`s the name of the clothing label. And I was with my wife and my baby at the supermarket and I didn`t think. I just put my hat on Clara`s head, because it was cold. And the looks. I couldn`t figure out why I was getting death looks. And then I realized my 10-month old baby`s wearing a hat with the word Pervert written on it and these people were like, `There`s Satan! There`s Satan out with his kid!` And then I made a point of her wearing it every time we went there.
When I was quite young I fondly imagined that all foreign languages were codes for English. I thought that "hat," say, was the real and actual name of the thing, but that people in other countries, who obstinately persisted in speaking the code of their forefathers, might use the word "ibu," say, to designate not merely the concept hat, but the English word "hat." I knew only one foreign word, "oui," and since it had three letters as did the word for which it was a code, it seemed, touchingly enough, to confirm my theory.
I use as high SPF as I can get, and I live under a hat like a mushroom all the time. Someone said they're worried about their kids getting older and doing drugs, and I got this look of horror on my face and thought, 'What if my girls don't wear hats?' But at 13 months old, they could say 'hat.
I use as high SPF as I can get, and I live under a hat like a mushroom all the time. Someone said they're worried about their kids getting older and doing drugs, and I got this look of horror on my face and thought, 'What if my girls don't wear hats?' But at 13 months old, they could say 'hat.'
Sam came around the side of the car and stopped dead when he saw me. 'Oh my God, what is THAT?' I used my thumb and middle finger to flick the multicolored pom-pom on top of my head. 'In my language, we call it a HAT. It keeps my ears warm.' 'Oh my God, ' Sam said again, and closed the distance between us. He cupped my face in his hands and studied me. 'It's horribly cute.' He kissed me, looked at the hat, and then he kissed me again. I vowed never to lose the pom-pom hat.
Sam came around the side of the car and stopped dead when he saw me. "Oh my God, what is THAT?" I used my thumb and middle finger to flick the multicolored pom-pom on top of my head. "In my language, we call it a HAT. It keeps my ears warm." "Oh my God," Sam said again, and closed the distance between us. He cupped my face in his hands and studied me. "It's horribly cute." He kissed me, looked at the hat, and then he kissed me again. I vowed never to lose the pom-pom hat.
People nowadays think of gamebooks as rather old hat - and, after all, it was twenty years ago. In their heyday, though, they were a phenomenon, selling upwards of a hundred thousand units per title. And it's not as old hat as you might think: the same design skills I used in those days apply equally when I'm creating modern videogames.