Are you not thirsty?" said the Lion. "I am dying of thirst, " said Jill. "Then drink, " said the Lion. "May I - could I - would you mind going away while I do?" said Jill. The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience. The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic. "Will you promise not to - do anything to me, if I do come?" said Jill. "I make no promise, " said the Lion. Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer. "Do you eat girls?" she said. "I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms, " said the Lion. It didn't say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it. "I daren't come and drink, " said Jill. "Then you will die of thirst, " said the Lion. "Oh dear!" said Jill, coming another step nearer. "I suppose I must go and look for another stream then." "There is no other stream, " said the Lion.
Today is just a wonderful day of rejoicing. Jill's friends at the Monitor can't wait to see her and there is no way to thank everyone -- everyone at the press, everyone around the world, all government officials, all Iraqi people, our hearts go out to you in thanks. Bless you all for all that you have done to give Jill and her family this tremendous, wonderfully happy day.
This has been a difficult week for Jill's family and for us. Jill's deep love for Iraq and the Iraqi people have come out in the published statements by a number of her Iraqi friends and fellow reporters. She is committed to helping the world understand the great good to be found in Iraq and its people, despite the struggles it is going through now.
So thirsty," Jack groaned. "So worried,"said the frog. I hope we don't starve to death." "Yes,"said Jill, "not starving to death would be nice." "So would not thirsting to death," said Jack "Thirsting isn't even a word," said Jill "It isn't?" "No." "Then what's the word?" "I dont know. You just can't." "Oh." This is, of course, the kind of inane conversation that occurs when people are slowly losing their minds.
Whoa." Adrian leapt up and rushed to Jill's side. "You need to let this go. What, are you going to start a fight with some girl?" Reed turned his glare on Adrian. "Stay out of this." "The hell I will! You're crazy." If anyone had asked me to make up a list of people most likely to risk a fight in defense of a lady's honor, Adrian Ivashkov would have been low on that list. Yet there he stood, face hard and hand sitting protectively on Jill's shoulder. I was in awe. And impressed.
Jill, a comprehensive school teacher in her early thirties, has put her dark past behind her to become a lady in control of her own life. Successful in her career, soon to be divorced and with no emotional ties, she is content. Except that one morning, while trying to find work for a recalcitrant Year 9 class, she finds herself in a dark and murky street in Victorian England. The image soon disappears and she is back in the classroom, but the children she was teaching have gone and so has an hour of her life. Soon Jill finds herself living two parallel lives, one as a teacher and the other as a Victorian governess. And this is just the beginning
Jill told me that when you're really in love, you know right away. I'm not exactly sure how this happens. Is it like a flash of lightning? Like an angel tapping you on the shoulder? Or is it similar to choosing a puppy? You think you're picking the cutest one, but really you wind up going home with the one who keeps insisting on climbing into your lap.
I have lived long enough to see real, significant changes made for the good... and I have been fortunate enough to have participated in some of them... One person can make a difference! (Father Ted Hesburgh, C.S.C., quoted in our book, God's Icebreaker by Jill A. Boughton and Julie Walters)
Jill A. Boughton
No-I've got it, ' Jill announced, interrupting my musing. 'He's a vampire.' I laughed again, feeling there was no end to the outrageous, ridiculous excuses we were coming up with. 'Seriously, it makes sense. He's always tired and pale, and keeps himself away from people so he won't bite them... Maybe that's what he's doing when he disappears. Getting his fix of blood.
That was Sydney Sage," said Lissa. "I thought they were all in West Virginia. Why isn't she with Rose?" "That," said Abe darkly, "is an excellent question." "Because they were apparently kidnapping Jill Mastrano in Detroit," said Christian. "Which is weird. But not the craziest thing I can think of Rose doing.
I don't care if your the President of the United States, the Queen of England, the inventor of the microchip, a bankable movie star, or an ordinary Joe or Jill, you're no paragon in my book, but the same as a zebra or gazelle - a source of protein. In fact, I'd rather hunt you, because you're slow and feeble.
If the world were a paradise of luxury and ease, a land flowing with milk and honey, where every Jack obtained his Jill at once and without any difficulty, men would either die of boredom or hang themselves; or there would be wars, massacres, and murders; so that in the end mankind would inflict more suffering on itself than it has now to accept at the hands of Nature.
Like Flannery O'Connor, McCorkle's genius is to give us both philosophical speculation and a riveting narrative filled with unforgettable characters. Great writing, poignancy, humor, wisdom-all are in abundance here. Jill McCorkle is one of the South's greatest writers; she is also one of America's.
Maybe everyone else thinks your aversion to food is cute- but not me. I've watched you watch Jill. Here's some tough love: you will never, ever have her body. Ever. It's impossible. She's Moroi. You're human. That's biology. You have a great one, one that most humans would kill for- and you'd look even better if you put on a little weight. Five pounds would be a good start. Hide the ribs. Get a bigger bra size
Well, this is a nice surprise, " he said. He looked us over. Jill had changed into her normal clothes during her isolation today, but I still had on the Amberwood blouse and skirt. "Sage, aren't you guys supposed to have uniforms? This looks like what you usually wear." "Cute, " I said, suppressing an eye roll. Adrian gave me a mock bow. "Careful. You almost smiled.
I was heavily influenced by big voices when I was younger. People like Whitney Houston, Aretha Franklin, and Patti Labelle really spoke to me. When I got older, I was into Erykah Badu, Jill Scott, and Lauryn Hill, but it wasn't until I started working with a voice coach that I really dove into jazz music.
I worked with an amazing dialect coach named Jill McCullough. We did Skype sessions while I was shooting "No Escape" in Thailand, actually. So three times a week I would have long, two-hour sessions with her just working on the nuance of the accent, which I had had a huge background in because I went to drama school in England for four years.
It's not complicated and it doesn't compare to my problem, now give me a damn cookie I think I earned it, ' Jill snapped. Chris grinned like it was Christmas morning. 'Yes, you did.' He brought her a cookie. 'Very good, my young one. You've made Chris very happy with this little tidbit of information.
No, " he said. "I don't want you to suffer. Much. But the next time you're in bed with Belikov, stop a moment and remember that not everyone made out as well as you did." I turned back to face him. "Adrian, I never-" "Not just me, little dhampir, " he added quietly. "There's been a lot of collateral damage along the way while you battled against the world. I was a victim, obviously. But what about Jill? What happens to her now that you've abandoned her to the royal wolves? And Eddie? Have you thought about him? And where's your Alchemist?
You're right. The fact that the entire party of fifty guests caught you and Jill Moench kissing in the closet was a complete misunderstanding." Theo snorted, turning to Penny, "His girlfriend certainly got a surprise at her party. And it wasn't the kind where everyone jumps out from behind the couch to yell, 'Surprise!
Your boyfriend and Micah will both be speechless." I unfastened my seatbelt. "That's the third time I've heard 'your boyfriend.' What's going on about that? Why won't anyone say Brayden's name?" Neither of them answered right away. Finally, Jill said sheepishly, "Because none of us can remember it." "Oh, come on! I'd expect that from Adrian but not you guys. It's not that weird of a name." "No," admitted Eddie. "But there's just something so...I don't know. Unmemorable about him. I'm glad he makes you happy, but I just start to tune out whenever he talks.
Beautiful songs could sometimes take a person out of themselves and carry them away to a place of magic. But when Jill sang, it was not about the song, really. She could sing the phone book. She could sing a shopping list. Whatever she sang, whatever the words or the tune, it was so beautiful, so achingly lovely, that no one could listen and be untouched.
Once, " Balinda begins softly, "when I was in the emergency room with my mother they brought in a murderer who had been shot and was dying, right there in front of us. I watched as the nurse touched his face and reassured him and I could not believe they were being so nice to him." "What happened?" Jill asked. "My mother rose up, took my arm, gripped it as if she was a weight lifter and said, 'he was a beautiful baby once and his mother loved him'.
If you say that this is absurd, that we cannot be in love with everyone at once, I merely point out to you that, as a matter of fact, certain persons do exist with an enormous capacity for friendship and for taking delight in other people's lives; and that such person know more of truth than if their hearts were not so big. The vice of ordinary Jack and Jill affection is not its intensity, but its exclusions and its jealousies. Leave those out, and you see that the ideal I am holding up before you, however impracticable to-day, yet contains nothing intrinsically absurd.
I'd always had an interest in guitar from about seven years old. But I first actually had lessons when I was about fifteen in Scotland, in Edinburgh. There was a folk club there and a girl called Jill Doyle taught me the guitar, who happened to be Davey Graham's sister. Davey Graham is one of my heroes and always has been. Fantastic guitar player. And he's had a strong influence on me all the way through.
Jill Fraser was one of the greatest forces in British theatre. She was an inspiration to all my work and a rock whenever times were hard. I have never met a more courageous person, or somebody who managed to focus with such energy and determination on putting challenging work on the stage. As a young director she took a risk on me and has stuck by me even when I made mistakes. Loyalty such as this is rare. The sense of loss at this time is immeasurable.
Keith was just bringing the glass to his lips when Adrian said, "Mmm. O positive, my favourite." Keith sprayed out the wine he'd just drunk and promptly started coughing. I was relieved that none got on me. Jill burst into giggles, and Clarence stared at his glass wonderingly. "Is it? I thought it was a Cabernet Sauvignon." "So it is, " said Adrian, straight-faced. "My mistake.
Keith was just bringing the glass to his lips when Adrian said, "Mmm. O positive, my favorite." Keith sprayed out the wine he'd just drunk and promptly started coughing. I was relieved that none got on me. jill burst into giggles, and Clarence stared at his glass wonderingly. "Is it? I thought it was a cabernet sauvignon." "So it is," said Adrian, straight-faced. "My mistake.
Keith was just bringing the glass to his lips when Adrian said, "Mmm. O positive, my favorite." Keith sprayed out the wine he'd just drunk and promptly started coughing. I was relieved that none got on me. jill burst into giggles, and Clarence stared at his glass wonderingly. "Is it? I thought it was a cabernet sauvignon." "So it is, " said Adrian, straight-faced. "My mistake.
Emeth came walking forward into the open strip of grass between the bonfire and the Stable. His eyes were shining, his face was solemn, his hand was on his sword-hilt, and he carried his head high. Jill felt like crying when she looked at his face. And Jewel whispered in the King's ear, "By the Lion's Mane, I almost love this young warrior, Calormene though he be. He is worthy of a better god than Tash.
I recently read in the book My Stroke of Insight by brain scientist Jill Bolte Taylor that the natural life span of an emotion-the average time it takes for it to move through the nervous system and body-is only a minute and a half. After that we need thoughts to keep the emotion rolling. So if we wonder why we lock into painful emotional states like anxiety, depression, or rage, we need look no further than our own endless stream of inner dialogue.
I recently read in the book My Stroke of Insight by brain scientist Jill Bolte Taylor that the natural life span of an emotion""the average time it takes for it to move through the nervous system and body""is only a minute and a half. After that we need thoughts to keep the emotion rolling. So if we wonder why we lock into painful emotional states like anxiety, depression, or rage, we need look no further than our own endless stream of inner dialogue.
As we were about to cross the road, Davin suddenly grabbed my wrist and held me back a moment; a car peeled out of the driveway and roared past us. 'Geez, ' I gasped, and then, glancing at him curiously, I added, 'Thanks.' He didn't say anything, but slowly released my wrist. Before he completely withdrew, I took his hand and interlaced my fingers through his. He looked at me, his lips parted in surprise, but then he smiled shyly and gave my hand a squeeze as we kept walking. It gave me a feeling of nervous flutters in the best way. As we walked up to the doors, Jill and Laurel came bursting out the exit.
Micah showed up shortly thereafter and was happy to meet our other 'brother.' He shook Adrian's hand and smiled. 'Now I see some family resemblance. I was starting to wonder if Jill was adopted, but you two kind of look like each other.' 'So does our mailman back in North Dakota, ' said Adrian. 'South, ' I corrected. Fortunately, Micah didn't seem to think there was anything weird about the slip. 'Right, ' said Adrian. He studied Micah thoughtfully. 'There's something familiar about you. Have we met?' Micah shook his head. 'I've never been to South Dakota.' I was pretty sure I heard Adrian murmur, 'That makes two of us.
Her hands shot up. 'See that's exactly what I'm saying. You're seeing what you want, and what you see you explain away and excuse things like you're fixing me. I'm not perfect, Ephraim and I really wish you would see that.' 'You drool.' 'What?' That caught her off guard. 'When you're asleep you drool. I've woken up more than a few times with a little puddle forming on my chest.' After a thought he added. 'And you snore. Not a delicate snore either mind you.' 'I do not!' Her face colored with indignation. He sighed heavily as if the knowledge pained him. 'Oh, but you do. I've even heard Jill talk about it. Did you know that's the main reason she was happy about her room. Actually, she and Joshua thanked your Grandmother for putting you at the other end of the house, something about finally getting a decent night's sleep. They compared your snore to a chainsaw. I can see why they'd say that.
Jill's face was hard when PE ended, and I had the feeling she was trying not to cry. I tried talking to her in the locker room, but she simply shook her head and headed off for the showers. I was about to go there myself when I heard a shriek. Those of us who were still by the lockers raced to the shower room to see what was happening. Laurel jerked the curtain back from her stall and came running out, oblivious to the fact that she was naked. I gaped. Her skin was covered in a fine sheen of ice. Water droplets from the shower had frozen solid on her skin and in her hair, though in the steamy heat of the rest of the room, they were already starting to melt. I glanced over to the shower itself and noticed that the water coming out of the faucet was also frozen solid.
IF IT'S YOU VERSUS ME - THINK ABOUT IT THEY GON YELL MY NAME WHEN THEY ANNOUNCE THE WINNER AND I AIN'T BOUT TO SELL MUCH I GOT MY HONEYS ON THE PLANE BUT THE BIRDS FLYIN SOUTH FOR THE WINTER GO GET YA SELF FAMILIATED I'M SO GANGSTA THAT, JUST KNOW'N MYSELF MAKES ME AFFILIATED WHAT CHU THINK HONEY HOLD 'EM HAMMERS FOR? SO SHE CAN SPEND 10 CENT AT JILL SANDER STORE? WE GON HIT RODEO DRIVE ON BEVERLY HILLS THOUGH I LOVE HER, SO I'M SPENDIN LIKE 70 BILLS EVERY WEEK SHE BRING THE LLELLO IN, KEEP YA PAYROLL BIG LIGHT A BLUNT, AND JUST BEG ME TO CHILL AIN'T A PLAYER BUT MY LIFE IS REAL ALL OF THE TIME SO SHE WENT AND COPPED A GUN A LITTLE SMALLER THAN MINE THAT'S A DOWN ASS CHICK, AND SHE KEEP IT REAL SO I'MA KEEP IT REAL BACK ALL OF THE TIME
Styles F/ Lil' Mo
Are you okay with what we ordered?' Angeline asked him. 'You didn't pipe up with any requests.' Neil shook his head, face stoic. He kept his dark hair in a painfully short and efficient haircut. It was the kind of no-nonsense thing the Alchemists would've loved. 'I can't waste time quibbling over trivial things like pepperoni and mushrooms. If you'd gone to my school in Devonshire, you'd understand. For one of my sophomore classes, they left us alone on the moors to fend for ourselves and learn survival skills. Spend three days eating twigs and heather, and you'll learn not to argue about any food coming your way.' Angeline and Jill cooed as though that was the most rugged, manly thing they'd ever heard. Eddie wore an expression that reflected what I felt, puzzling over whether this guy was as serious as he seemed or just some genius with swoon-worthy lines.
My dad died, I write. almost a year ago. Car accident. My hand is shaking; my eyes sting and fill. I add Not his fault before pushing the notebook and pen back across the table, wiping a hand across my cheeks. As he reads, my impulse is to reach out, grab the notebook, run outside, dump it in the trash, bury it in the snow, throw it under the wheels of a passing car - something, something, so I can go back fifteen seconds when this part ofme was still shut away and private. Then I look at Ravi's face again, and the normally white white whites of his eyes are pink. This causes major disruption to my ability to control the flow of my own tears. I see myself when I look at him right now: he's reflecting my sadness, my broken heart, back to me. He takes the pe, writes, and slides it over. You'd think it's something epic from the way it levels my heart. It isn't. I'm really sorry, Jill. Four little words.