A Quote by Karin Slaughter
sexual predators were like cockroaches. For every one you saw, there were twenty more hiding behind the walls.
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Countless candles dribbled with hot wax, and their flames, like little flags, fluttered in the unchartered currents of air. Thousands of lamps, naked, or shuttered behind coloured glass, burned with their glows of purple, amber, grass-green, blue, blood red and even grey. The walls of Gormenghast were like the walls of paradise or like the walls of an inferno. The colours were devilish or angelical according to the colour of the mind that watched them. They swam, those walls, with the hues of hell, with the tints of Zion. The breasts of the plumaged seraphim; the scales of Satan.
When you're in prison, there's no hiding. These women are not hiding behind towels and shower curtains. They go to the bathroom with no doors on the stalls. It would actually look weird, if these women were hiding.
I doubted that there were Communists hiding behind every corporation desk and director's chair.
I honestly don't hate asylum seekers - these people are cockroaches and they're doing what cockroaches do because cockroaches can't help what they do, they just do it, like cats miaow and dogs bark.
Phil Niekro and his brother were pitching against each other in Atlanta. Their parents were sitting right behind home plate. I saw their folks more that day than they did the whole weekend.
Last year in the U.S. alone more than nine hundred thousand people were reported missing and not found... That's out of three hundred million, total population. That breaks down to about one person in three hundred and twenty-five vanishing. Every year.... Maybe it's a coincidence, but it's almost the same loss ratio experienced by herd animals on the African savannah to large predators.
Twenty-two martyrs were recognized, but there were many more, and not only Catholics. There were also Anglicans and some Mohammedans.
I had been doing wall drawings, but they were always black and white. Then in 1993 I painted all the walls of a room to make an installation and as soon as I saw the colour on the walls, it changed my whole life.
Why were my visitors so secretive, hiding themselves behind my consciousness. I could only conclude that they were using me and did not want me to know why...What if they were dangerous? Then I was terribly dangerous because I was playing a role in acclimatizing people to them.
No one saw the recession coming. The UK businesses were solid as a rock, but the issues we had were in Paris, New York and LA. For every pound we were making here we were losing two pounds abroad.
Spaceflight will never tolerate carelessness, incapacity, and neglect. Somewhere, somehow, we screwed up. It could have been in design, build, or test. Whatever it was, we should have caught it. We were too gung ho about the schedule and we locked out all of the problems we saw each day in our work. Every element of the program was in trouble and so were we. The simulators were not working, Mission Control was behind in virtually every area, and the flight and test procedures changed daily.
Back when we were more in the industrial vein, it was almost like I had to hide the fact that I could sing. Now, I've just sort of embraced the fact that I can sing and I'm not a screamer or hiding it behind any effects, this is just what I sound like.
Back when I was single and Guns were on the 'Illusions' tour, chicks were, like, left and right. They were falling over themselves. And I saw the sadness in that. The first six months of that, it's like, 'Killer! Chicks are hot. They're into me.' And then you realize they're not really into you. They're into the guy they saw on the JumboTron.
In the past the analysts were the department you never saw. They were the nerds at school. You went to see the investment bankers and maybe the salesmen but the Chinese walls divided them from the analysts. But new technology and the Internet changed all that.
Style is a fraud. I always felt the Greeks were hiding behind their columns.
I'm horrified to find, as I look at these diaries of twenty-five years ago or more, that I don't remember who the people were. "Bill and Tony were constantly in and out. We went to La Jolla" - or something. I haven't the bluest idea who they were!
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