I'm not absolutely certain of my facts, but I rather fancy it's Shakespeare - or, if not, it's some equally brainy lad - who says that it's always just when a chappie is feeling particularly top-hole, and more than usually braced with things in general that Fate sneaks up behind him with a bit of lead piping.
We had great sneaks. The capacity was 78 percent, which we're very happy about. They loved it. We had 99 percent in the top two boxes and the excellent (score) was 78 percent. It was definitely females over 30 -- exactly what we expected. And we know the picture has potential to crossover (to a broader audience).
As children, our imaginations are vibrant, and our hearts are open. We believe that the bad guy always loses and that the tooth fairy sneaks into our rooms at night to put money under our pillow. Everything amazes us, and we think anything is possible. We continuously experience life with a sense of newness and unbridled curiosity.
Were it not for Occam's Razor, which always demands simplicity, I'd be tempted to believe that human beings are more influenced by distant causes than immediate ones. This would especially be true of overeducated people, who are capable of thinking past the immediate, of becoming obsessed by the remote. It's the old stuff, the conflicts we've never come to terms with, that sneaks up on us, half forgotten, insisting upon action.
Although I went to college as a youth, I never considered it necessary to steep oneself in academic learning, in order to learn how to think. I welcome a fair and square, open and above-board fight on any subject, including this, but I despise a man who sneaks around under a cloak or cover of any society or clique to strike his blows.
It turns out most of the conclusions that I've come to in life have equally valid contradictions. I think it's true you need to make a plan, set a goal and stick to it, but I would also advise: Don't keep your eyes so fixed on your goal that you miss what sneaks up to surprise you, because magic will come from unexpected places.
In this political climate, people are so shut down to other ideas - I call it a hardening of the categories - that if you can get them to open up and laugh, there is a possibility of improvement, and a possibility of change. I think humor sneaks up on people, and before you know it, you're laughing at something you might not agree with.
Life without goodness, good thoughts, good actions and good words is like the sky in the night without the moon or stars. It is like a wheel without a hub or spokes! No one can push a boulder away while standing on it; you cannot be free from anxiety while all the entrances through which it sneaks in are open.
You could ask me to teach you." "Huh?" This night is getting weird in a hurry. "Teach me like you're teaching a class or something? What are you going to call it: 'You Too Can Be a Sociopath 101'?" "It would be more like a graduate-level class." I start to snicker. His sense of humour sneaks up on you. Then I remember who's talking and bite it off.
Karen Marie Moning
See how he cowers and sneaks, how vaguely all the day he fears, not being immortal nor divine, but the slave and prisoner of his own opinion of himself, a fame won by his own deeds. Public opinion is a weak tyrant compared with our own private opinion. What a man thinks of himself, that it is which determines, or rather indicates, his fate.
Henry David Thoreau
I don't like being here with these people and animals. I'm going to retire, but remember, courage is doing what we know is dangerous. It's risking our safety for a chance at something better. Don't let your fears shape your reality because no matter how cautious you are, someone or something always sneaks in the back door to manifest that fear. Better to face it and defeat it than to let it attack you unawares. (Maxis)
Fear sucks. Because you never know when it will attack. Sometimes it sneaks up behind you, giggling like your best girlfriend from seventh grade. Then it whacks you on the back of the head, takes you straight to your knees before you realize what hit you. Other times you can see it coming, just a dot on the horizon, but you're like a canary in a cage. All you can do is hang in there and hope you don't get motion sickness and puke all over the newspapers.
His gaze settles on my lips for a few seconds, then slides up to meet mine. Oh Gods, how my hearts pound. The heat of a blush sneaks up my neck and makes itself at home on my cheeks, leaving a blazing trail in its wake. Sani can definitely hear my frenzied pulse. Hell, as loud as it is, my father can probably hear it from here.
When a lion stalks a herd, he sneaks in close, lies down, and surveys them to choose his victim. He takes his time. The deer or buffalo have no idea he's near. He finds his prey and then he explodes from his hiding place and grabs it. Even if another, perfectly serviceable animal ends up within his reach, he isn't going to alter his course. He has chosen, and he would rather go hungry than change his mind.
Sunday morning sneaks up on us - like dawn, like resurrection, like the sun that rises a ribbon at a time. We expect a trumpet and a triumphant entry, but as always, God surprises us by showing up in ordinary things: in bread, in wine, in water, in words, in sickness, in healing, in death, in a manger of hay, in a mother's womb, in an empty tomb. p.258
Rachel Held Evans
In fact, he's never taken an interest in a woman before. I was beginning to to suspect he might prefer one of his male sneaks, but now..." She paused dramatically. "Now, we have the lovely, intelligent Yelena to get Valek's cold heart pumping." "You really should get out of your sewing room more. You need fresh air and a dose of reality," I said knowing better than to believe a word Dilana said, but unable to control the silly little grin on my face. Her sweet, melodious laughter followed me into the hallway. "You know I'm right, " she called.
Maria V. Snyder
Love attacks. It sneaks up like a pride of lions or a pack of hyenas and eats your heart out while you watch. Love is the bully on the playground who takes your lunch money and gives you a black eye in return, the arsonist who burns your house down with you in it, the witch who lures you into her home with candy and boils you alive for dinner. Love is raw, and violent, and instantaneous. You don't fall in love; you get trampled by it.
A man who knows a thing, recognizes a given danger, and sees with his own eyes the possibility of a remedy, damned well has the duty and the obligation not to work 'silently', but to stand up openly against the evil and for its cure. If he does not do so then he is a faithless, miserable weakling who fails either from cowardice or from laziness and incompetence....Every last agitator who possesses the courage to defend his opinions with manly forth-rightness, standing on a tavern table among his adversaries, accomplishes more than a thousand of these lying, treacherous sneaks.
George Lincoln Rockwell
Her magic formula for dealing with children is ignoring all faults and accenting tiny virtues. She says, "Instead of telling Tommy day in and day out that he is the naughtiest boy in the United States of America, which could very well be true, take an aspirin and comment on his neatly tied shoes. Almost anybody would rather be known for expert shoe-tying than for kicking the cat." She always tells whiners how charming they are--bullies how brave--bad sports how good--sneaks how honest!
Her magic formula for dealing with children is ignoring all faults and accenting tiny virtues. She says, "Instead of telling Tommy day in and day out that he is the naughtiest boy in the United States of America, which could very well be true, take an aspirin and comment on his neatly tied shoes. Almost anybody would rather be known for expert shoe-tying than for kicking the cat." She always tells whiners how charming they are-bullies how brave-bad sports how good-sneaks how honest!
As far as digital technology has come, there's still one thing that digital cameras won't do: give you perfect color every time. In fact, if they gave us perfect color 50% of the time, that would be incredible, but unfortunately every digital camera (and every scanner that captures traditional photos) sneaks in some kind of color cast in your image. Generally, it's a red cast, but depending on the camera, it could be blue. Either way, you can be pretty sure-there's a cast.
And, I think, this greening does thaw at the edges, at least, of my own cold season. Joy sneaks in: listening to music, riding my bicycle, I catch myself feeling, in a way that's as old as I am but suddenly seems unfamiliar, light. I have felt so heavy for so long. At first I felt odd- as if I shouldn't be feeling this lightness, that familiar little catch of pleasure in the heart which is inexplicable, though a lovely passage of notes or the splendidly turned petal of a tulip has triggered it. It's my buoyancy, part of what keeps me alive: happy, suddenly with the concomitant experience of a sonata and the motion of the shadows of leaves. I have the desire to be filled with sunlight, to soak my skin in as much of it as I can drink up, after the long interior darkness of this past season, the indoor vigil, in this harshest and darkest of winters, outside and in.
DONT FUCK WITH ME WATCH MY FEET I DON SPENT A BILL 50 NIGGA WATCH MY SNEAKS I AINT TRYIN TO BE THE SHIT BUT THEY FRESH OUT THE BOX AND IF YOU SCUFF EM IM GONNA HAVE TO KNOCK YOU CLEAN OUT YA SOCKS I GOT A SHOE FETISH SO I KEEP A FRESH PAIR BEFORE I WEAR SOME SKETCHERS I WALK AROUND BARE NIGGA POSING FOR THE CAMERA IN THE BRAND NEW FIT ZOOM OUT A LITTLE BIT GOTTA CATCH THEM KICKS YOU COULD CLOWN WITH YA ROUNDS YOU COULD POSE WITH YA HO'S YOU COULD PLAY IT HOW IT GOES BUT NIGGA WATCH MY TOES YOU COULD DRANK THAT REMY WITH THE COKE UP IN IT GON AHEAD AND DRANK PLENTY BUT NIGGA WATCH MY TENNIS YOU DISOBEY THE RULES DRANK A CUP OF BREWS DO WHAT YOU DO BUT NIGGA WATCH MY SHOES WATCH A NIGGA FEET IF YOU AINT GOT IT TO SPEND I GOTTA KEEP THESE BITCHES CLEAN CAUSE IM GONNA WEAR EM AGAIN
THERE'S ANOTHER PARTY GOIN' ON RIGHT UP THE STREET BUT TO GET IN YOU CAN'T WEAR YOUR HAT OR SNEAKS THE BOUNCER'S A FAGGOT THE DOORMAN'S A GEEK THE MAKE YOU WAIT IN LINE FOR WHAT FEELS LIKE A WEEK YOU GET TO THE FRONT, BOUNCER SAYS IT'S FILLED PLUS YOU AREN'T DRESSED TO IMPRESS NOR KILL SO HE SAYS YOU CAN'T GET IN AND NOW YOU FEEL ILL BUT THEN HE SAYS, "YO, SLIP ME A $20 BILL." YOU GRUDGINGLY OBLIGE AND SLIDE INSIDE ONLY TO FIND, NOTHING BUT THE DEAF, DUMB AND BLIND OUTRAGEOUS WEAVES, GATORS AND FROST MINKS SHAWTY WON'T SPEAK TO YOU UNLESS YOU BOUGHT DRINKS SHE'S WITH HER CREW, THEIR ATTITUDE IT STINKS STANK, THEY WANT MEN WITH BANK, NOT MEN WHO THINK NIGGAS ICE GRILLIN', DON'T LOOK AWAY OR BLINK BATHROOM ATTENDANTS, SAID IT COST TO USE THE SINK LEAVE HIM A TIP FOR HANDING YOU A TOWEL? I TOLD HIM "I OWE YOU" LIKE I DON'T HAVE A VOWEL CAME OUT TO SOMEONE SCREAMIN' MAD LOUD OH WOW, NOW THEY BUSTIN' SHOTS IN THE CROWD ALL HELL BROKEN LOOSE, COPS SWARM LIKE THEY'RE IN JUICE BUT Y'ALL WASN'T GONNA LET ME AND HIM IN FOR WEARIN' A PAIR OF BOOTS?!
Reef The Lost Cauze
At some point in this course, perhaps even tonight, you will read something difficult, something you only partially understand, and your verdict will be this is stupid. Will I argue when you advance that opinion in class the next day? Why would I do such a useless ting? My time with you in short, only thirty-four weeks of classes, and I will not waste it arguing about the merits of this short story or that poem. Why would I, when all such opinions are subjective, and no final resolution can ever be reached?' Some of the kids - Gloria was one of them - now looked lost, but Pete understood exactly what Mr. Ricker, aka Ricky the Hippie, was talking about... 'Time is the answer, " Mr Ricker said on the first day of Pete's sophomore year. He strode back and forth, antique bellbottoms swishing, occasionally waving his arms. "Yes! Time mercilessly culls away the is-stupid from the not-stupid."... "It will occur for you, young ladies and gentlemen, although I will be in your rear-view mirror by the time it happens. Shall I tell you how it happens? You will read something - perhaps 'Dulce et Decorum Est, ' by Wilfred Owen. Shall we use that as an example? Why not?' Then, in a deeper voice that sent chills up Pete's back and tightened his throat, Mr. Ricker cried, " 'Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge... ' And son on. Cetra-cetra. Some of you will say, This is stupid."... 'And yet!" Up went the finger. "Time will pass! Tempus will fugit! Owen's poem may fall away from your mind, in which case your verdict of is-stupid will have turned out to be correct. For you, at least. But for some of you, it will recur. And recur. Each time it does, the steady march of your maturity will deepen its resonance. Each time that poem sneaks back into your mind, it will seem a little less stupid and a little more vital. A little more important. Until it shines, young ladies and gentlemen. Until it shines.
What do we have here?' Grant slurs at me. He seems different and it raises flags in my mind. His fingers wrap around a section of my hair and it scares me. His face is flushed red and his eyes are glassy and bright. I can smell the smoky scent of whiskey or scotch rolling off his tongue as he speaks and breathes heavily. 'I'm lost and I need a ride home.' My voice wavers as I speak and I hate it. I fist my hands in the hem of my blazer. 'I'll get Albert for you, but first spend some time with me, ' he slurs again, sounding like his tongue is too large for his mouth. As if sensing my attention, the tip of his tongue sneaks out and slides along his supple bottom lip. He smiles as he tastes the alcohol that's staining his mouth. His eyes are bright and shiny and glazed over. He has a smirk on his face that shows off his dimple. It no longer reminds me of Whitt. It seems sinister and dangerous- promising something I'm not ready to experience. The feel of his fingers playing with my hair gives me goosebumps and I shiver as my scalp tightens, sucking up the pleasant attention. I do my first stupid-girl moment of my life. I shameless crush on a guy and let it turn my thoughts to mush. 'Okay, if you promise to call Albert first.' I try to negotiate with him and he gives me a naughty smirk for agreeing. He backs me up with his physical presence. His front touches mine- chest-to-chest. His lips part and breathes the smoky, whiskey scent onto my chin. My back hits the door behind me with an audible thump. He reaches around me and I don't wince. I anticipate him touching me and crave it. Instead, his hand twists the doorknob by my hip and I fall backwards. I'm pushed into a dark room until my legs connect with the edge of a bed. I can't see anything, and the only sound is our combined breathing. I feel alive with caution. I'm aware of every hair, every nerve on my flesh. My senses are so in-tuned that I can feel my system pumping the blood through my veins nourishing my whole body.