A Quote by Kelly Sue DeConnick

The first gift my husband ever gave me was a pack of index cards. I'm pretty sure the second was a 'Powers' scriptbook. This was well before either of us worked for Marvel.
Without either the first or second amendment, we would have no liberty; the first allows us to find out what's happening, the second allows us to do something about it! The second will be taken away first, followed by the first and then the rest of our freedoms.
God gave us the gift of life. It is the most precious gift ever. To be unarmed is to be helpless to protect that gift; that is outright irresponsible.
With the first novel, I had to tell myself, 'No one is ever going to read it, so you might as well just write it.' With the second, I was pretty sure someone was going to read it.
God gave us the gift of life; it is up to us to give ourselves the gift of living well.
I believe that God gave us gifts to help serve Him and He gave me the gift. I'm a people person. I'm also an instructor at Upstate Karate, but I've got the gift of fight, man. After every fight, I try to give all the glory to Him. I believe He gave us, like I said, the abilities to do that.
We Marines believe that God gave America the greatest gift He could bestow to man while he lived on this earth -freedom. We also believe He gave us another gift nearly as precious - our soldiers, sailors, airmen, Coast Guardsmen, and Marines - to safeguard that gift and guarantee no force on this earth can ever steal it away.
It's funny, because, yes, there's a Marvel aesthetic, and yet no one ever said to me, 'we have to do a Marvel aesthetic.' So it was probably me more self-policing to make sure I was going to stay inside the box a little bit.
I always think about which blood drive was going on in Georgia that day when that husband or mom or school teacher rolled up their sleeve and actually gave me a second chance at life. It's the ultimate gift of life, and I'm the one who was on the other end.
And then Adam Wilde shows up at Carnegie Hall on the biggest night of my career, and it felt like more than a coincidence. It felt like a gift. From them. For my first recital ever, they gave me a cello. And for this one, they gave me you.
When I worked with General Electric, again this was soon after the Second World War, you know, I was keeping up with new developments and they showed me a milling machine and this thing worked by punch cards - that's where computers were at that time, and everybody was sort of sheepish about how well this thing worked because in those days machinists were treated as though they were great musicians because they were virtuosos on these machines.
I'm pretty sure that every player who's ever played for me doesn't hate me. Now, we'd have to do a survey, but I've coached a lot of guys, and I'm pretty sure there's one or two that don't hate me. I don't know that any liked me. But I'm pretty sure there's one or two who don't hate me.
I wasn't sure what I expected her to do or say to this. It was all new to me from that second on. But clearly, she'd been there before. It was obvious in the easy way she shrugged off her bag, letting it fall with a thump onto the sand, before sitting down beside me. She didn't pull me close for a big bonding hug or offer up some saccharine words of comfort, both of which would have sent me running for sure. Instead she gave me nothing but her company, realizing even before I did this that this, in fact, was just what I needed.
When I was growing up, there was a man who gave me lessons and things. I'm very dyslexic so he used to give me extra reading and writing. And he always knew that I was interested in stuff but he never told me that he was in the Second World War himself. One day he gave me his helmet that he had worn through the North Africa Campaign. It was just before he died. So I've got his helmet. That was pretty special to me.
My dad worked nights mostly and while we were growing up, and my mother also worked, so there were times where, when it was just the two of us at home, and, you know, they gave us a pretty long leash, actually.
I'm a very methodical writer. Before computers, I used reams of paper and stacks of index cards.
Naming is nice. It took me days before I was able to speak a name for my first child (what if people did not like it?), and I suspect we gave her a secret, second name as well, to keep her safe.
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