At some point, to counter the list of the dead, I had begun keeping my own list of the living. It was something I noticed Len Fenerman did too. When he was off duty he would note the young girls and elderly women and every other female in the rainbow in between and count them among the things that sustained him. The young girl in the mall whose pale legs had grown too long for her now too-young dress and who had an aching vulnerability that went straight to both Len's and my own heart. Elderly women, wobbling with walkers, who insisted on dyeing their hair unnatural versions of the colors they had in youth. Middle-aged single mothers racing around in grocery stores while their children pulled bags of candy off the shelves. When I saw them, I took count. Living, breathing women. Sometimes I saw the wounded- those who had been beaten by husbands or raped by strangers, children raped by their fathers- and I would wish to intervene somehow. Len saw these wounded women all the time. They were regulars at the station, but even when he went somewhere outside his jurisdiction he could sense them when they came near. The wife in that bait-'n'-tackle shop had no bruises on her face but cowered like a dog and spoke in apologetic whispers. The girl he saw walk the road each time he went upstate to visit his sisters. As the years passed she'd grown leaner, the fat from her cheeks had drained, and sorrow had loaded her eyes in a way that made them hang heavy and hopeless inside her mallowed skin. When she was not there it worried him. When she was there it both depressed and revived him. ~Len Fenerman on stepping back/letting go/giving up pgs 271-272
I never think I'm capable of any of [action movies]! I'm always terrified, but luckily on this one it was directed by my husband [Len Wiseman]. 'I can't possibly do it. I'm too scared, I can't do it.' He says: 'Go on. DO it!' So it is shocking as I'm not one of those people who finds that stuff easy.
But then I think about my sister and what a shell-less turtle she was and how she wanted me to be one too. C'mon, Lennie, she used to say to me at least ten times a day. C'mon Len. And that makes me feel better, like it's her life rather than her death that is now teaching me how to be, who to be.
I hadn't really met Colin [Farell]. It's really weird to say: 'Oh, hello, I'm Kate...I'm Colin.. shall we?' That's a bit strange. Len was fine with it. We've gone through this experience with Scott Speedman before on the first Underworld move. It was our little version of swinging. We survived that.
I love helicopters. In fact, my wife and my friends, the myth of the chopper in the sky is that Len's going to stop and look at it. I love, probably, destroying them, yes. You know, It's the big elements, the big toys, the trucks the helicopters, and things like that. You have a few tools to play with.
Here's a list of some of the folks who have written Swamp Thing over the years: Alan Moore, Len Wein, Scott Snyder, Brian K Vaughan, Joshua Dysart, Rick Veitch, Grant Morrison, Mark Millar. That's not even a full list, but you see my point - ol' Swampy has had some seriously brilliant people behind the keyboard in his time.
There once was a girl who found herself dead. She peered over the ledge of heaven and saw that back on earth her sister missed her too much, was way too sad, so she crossed some paths that would not have crossed, took some moments in her hand shook them up and spilled them like dice over the living world. It worked. The boy with the guitar collided with her sister. "There you go, Len, " she whispered. "The rest is up to you.
There once was a girl who found herself dead. She peered over the ledge of heaven and saw that back on earth her sister missed her too much, was way too sad, so she crossed some paths that would not have crossed, took some moments in her hand shook them up and spilled them like dice over the living world. It worked. The boy with the guitar collided with her sister. "There you go, Len," she whispered. "The rest is up to you.
I have a piano in my living room that I mess around on a little bit and when I asked Len [Wiseman] if I could find a piece of music, I went through a **** load of classical music to find something that I felt had a certain urgency to it, but also with a hint of melancholia and maybe a sense of longing. I found that which is public domain and I had a piano teacher to go through it with me.
I couldn't help but think, as I watched him, of the barrels of toxic fluids that had accrued behind Hal's bike shop where the scrub lining the railroad tracks had offered local companies enough cover to dump a stray contaner or two. Everything had been sealed up, but things were beginning to leak out. I had come to both pity and respect Len in the years since my mother left. He followed the physical to try to understand things that were impossible to comphrehend. In that, I could see, he was like me.
To win in the game of life, we all need both a healthy mind and body. By involving children in the fun and dynamic fitness programs offered by Len Saunders, we help them maximize not only their physical potential, but more importantly their intellectual potential. You don't need to be an outstanding athlete to be physically fit - you just need to participate. This book is an outstanding reference for parents and educators alike who want to promote better health for our children.
Som barn te¤nkte jag mig alltid sje¤len som en liten fe¥gel. I en illustrerad ve¤rldshistoria som min far hade se¥g ockse¥ att egypterna avbildade den som en fe¥gel. Men en fe¥gel flyger inte he¶gre e¤n luften re¤cker, och den re¤cker inte le¥ngt. Den he¶r till jorden den ockse¥. I skolan hade vi en le¤rare i naturkunnighet som fe¶rklarade fe¶r oss att ingenting av det som finns pe¥ jorden kan komma bort ifre¥n den.