A Quote by Ilona Andrews

We took a right at the fork, heading farther north. The charred houses continued. To the right, a large sign nailed to an old telephone post shouted DANGER in huge red letters. Underneath in crisp black letters was written: IM-1: Infectious Magic Area Do Not Enter Authorized Personnel Only A second smaller sign under the first one, written on a piece of plastic with permanent marker, read: Keep out, stupid. “We aren’t going to keep out, are we?” Ascanio asked. “No.” “Awesome.
YOU have no room to laugh, that's all. I'm not doing any worse with Boovish than you did with English.' Get off of the car,' J.Lo huffed. 'I am an English superstar.' Uh-uh. There's no comparison. 'Gratuity' in written Boovish has seventeen different bubbles that all have to be the right size and in the right place. 'J.Lo' in written English only has three letters, and you still spelled it 'M-smiley face-pound sign.
The letters I get from people, a lot of people are very appreciative. I get stacks of letters. I'll do an event, and all the kids will send me all kinds of letters, and that right there is enough motivation to keep doing it.
Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see.
In old days books were written by men of letters and read by the public. Nowadays books are written by the public and read by nobody.
It will be written on my tombstone in very large letters, 'Here lies Hikaru Sulu,' and in very tiny letters, 'aka George Takei.' I don't protest the inevitable.
There would be this algebraic equation with an equals sign in the middle, and all the components would have different letters of the alphabet. It would come out right with x+z^2+t/q=y+co, and the co would be clothes off!
In the First World War, people would be receiving letters from loved ones who had been dead for weeks, and they would not know until that black-bordered telegram arrived. I remember, of course, when it was letters only, or the telephone, and you did not make expensive long-distance calls unless it was, "Come home to the funeral," or the like.
Can you find out how owns C and R industries? They bought the old abandoned mental asylum downtown." "That old thing? What are they going to do with it?" "I don't know. I was hoping their overcompensating sign would say, but it just says 'private property' and shouts lots of threats in capital letters, all of which I plan to completely ignore later.
People write me letters and say I should answer them. But I don't like to answer letters. I don't write letters. I've never written my mother one.
The WWE is fine. They can afford to not only sign anybody they really want, but they can also afford to sign people just to keep them out of the talent pool that everybody else has.
I have always hated flying. I mainly pass the time writing letters. I am very old school and I still keep many correspondences the old-fashioned way, via post.
My mom used to keep all her Christmas cards in a basket bedecked with red ribbon, and I loved to look at them all and read all the letters.
I wrote a huge number of letters that spring: one a week to Naoko, several to Reiko, and several more to Midori. I wrote letters in the classroom, I wrote letters at my desk at home with Seagull in my lap, I wrote letters at empty tables during my breaks at the Italian restaurant. It was as if I were writing letters to hold together the pieces of my crumbling life.
Letters actually work. Even the top dog himself takes time every day to read 10 letters that are picked out by staff. I can tell you that every official that I've ever worked with will tell you about the letters they get and what they mean.
O ay, letters - I had letters - I am persecuted with letters - I hate letters - nobody knows how to write letters; and yet one has 'em, one does not know why - they serve one to pin up one's hair.
It took me a moment. I blinked, and suddenly it swam into focus and I had to frown very hard to keep myself from giggling out loud like the schoolgirl Deb had accused me of being. Because he had arranged the arms and legs in letters, and the letters spelled out a single small word: BOO. The three torsos were carefully arranged below the BOO in a quarter-circle, making a cute little Halloween smile. What a scamp.
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