A Quote by Patrick Ness
Conor was no longer invisible. They all saw him now. But he was further away than ever.
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If the regular length of a shot is increased, one becomes bored, but if you keep on making it longer, a new quality emerges, a special intensity of attention.' At first there can be a friction between our expectations of time and Tarkovsky-time and this friction is increasing in the twenty-first century as we move further and further away from Tarkovsky-time towards moron-time in which nothing can last—and no one can concentrate on anything—for longer than about two seconds.
The Fat Girl Code of Conduct: 1. Any sexual activity is a secret. No public displays of affection. 2. Don’t discuss your weight with him. 3. Go further than skinny girls. If you can’t sell him on your body, you’d better overcompensate with sexual perks. 4. Never, ever, ever, ever, ever push the relationship thing.
He (Babe Ruth) hits a ball harder and further than any man I ever saw.
When I saw him look at me with lust, I dropped my eyes but, in glancing away from him, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. And I saw myself, suddenly, as he saw me, my pale face, the way the muscles in my neck stuck out like thin wire. I saw how much that cruel necklace became me. And, for the first time in my innocent and confined life, I sensed in myself a potentiality for corruption that took my breath away.
Often nothing keeps the pupil on the move but his faith in his teacher, whose mastery is now beginning to dawn on him .... How far the pupil will go is not the concern of the teacher and master. Hardly has he shown him the right way when he must let him go on alone. There is only one thing more he can do to help him endure his loneliness: he turns him away from himself, from the Master, by exhorting him to go further than he himself has done, and to "climb on the shoulders of his teacher."
Men will trust in God no further than they know Him; and they cannot be in the exercise of faith in Him one ace further than they have a sight of His fulness and faithfulness in exercise.
River Phoenix and I were friends for nine years, and I watched him grow and mature, and I also saw him struggle. I watched him deal with the whole up and down aspects of Hollywood and saw him bounce back, so when he passed away, it was such an enormous shock.
Everybody asks 'would you fight Conor McGregor?' - of course I'd fight Conor McGregor but it's not because of the money. It's because he's such a huge martial artist and everybody considers themselves the best if you fight Conor McGregor, if you beat Conor McGregor. I look at it like that.
I honestly don't remember ever being hurt by anyone other than Conor. It probably has happened in training or a fight but I don't remember any. The only times I do remember getting hurt is by Conor. I remember most of them and it's happened many, many, many times.
But with every word she was drawing further and further into herself, so he gave that up, and only the dead dream fought on as the afternoon slipped away, trying to touch what was no longer tangible, struggling unhappily, undespairingly, toward that lost voice across the room.
Marty and I are playing with the same intensity. That's the beautiful thing, man, we're actually better now than ever, probably more intense now than ever, tighter now than ever.
It isn't fair how I doubt him, and I wonder if he'll ever gather that my loss of faith extends further than I'd ever known it would, severing lines of trust and leveling my confidence like a city-flattening tornado.
I'm the original Conor McGregor. I'm the original model of Conor McGregor. He wouldn't be who he is if it wasn't for me. Nothing against him. I'm the original real deal.
I saw sensuality as sacred, indeed the only sacredness, I saw woman and her beauty as divine since her calling is the most important task of existence: the propagation of the species. I saw woman as the personification of nature, as Isis, and man as her priest, her slave; and I pictured her treating him as cruelly as Nature, who, when she no longer needs something that has served her, tosses it away, while her abuses, indeed her killing it, are its lascivious bliss.
It's a strange one - I've been away for 20 years now; I've been away longer than I lived in Canada, but for some reason I remain wholly Canadian.
When I was 9, I saw a wrestler on television named Gorgeous George. He said, "I'm beautiful. I'm so pretty that if a sucker touches my face, I'll kill him. If he messes with my hair, I'll pummel him." I said to myself, "That's a good idea. I am the greatest, I'm pretty." And then I took it a little further than he did.
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