Kontaktanzeige Er Quotes

So how to combine a liter of fluid with active agents, customized according to the patient's weight and status, while keeping everything sterile? If this is for the ER or the ICU, we have about ten minutes to make it happen. Fortunately for the patient, there is a sleep-starved teenager apprenticed to a chain-smoking barmaid in the basement who is ready for action. *** ~ Hope Jahren

My dear, dear ladies," Sir Francis effused as he hastened forward, "what a long-awaited delight this is!" Courtesy demanded that he acknowledge the older lady first, and so he turned to her. Picking up Berta's limp hand from her side, he presed his lips to it and said, "Permit me to introduce myself. I am Sir Francis Belhaven."
Lady Berta curtsied, her fear-widened eyes fastened on his face, and continued to press her handkerchief to her lips. To his astonishment, she did not acknowledge him at all; she did not say she was charmed to meet him or inquire after his health. Instead, the woman curtsied again. And once again. "There's hardly a need for all that," he said, covering his puzzlement with forced jovially. "I'm only a knight, you know. Not a duke or even an earl."
Lady Berta curtsied again, and Elizabeth nudged her sharply with her elbow. "How do!" burst out the plump lady.
"My aunt is a trifle-er-shy with strangers," Elizabeth managed weakly.
The sound of Elizabeth Cameron's soft, musical voice made Sir Francis's blood sing. He turned with unhidden eagerness to his future bride and realized that it was a bust of himself that Elizabeth was clutching so protectively, so very affectionately to her bosom. He could scarcely contain his delight. "I knew it would be this way between us-no pretense, no maidenly shyness," he burst out, beaming at her blank, wary expression as he gently took the bust of himself from Elizabeth's arms. "But, my lovely, there's ~ Judith McNaught

Of course it isn't. It's just an arbitrary set of rules like chess or tennis or - what's that strange thing you British play?" "Er, cricket? Self-loathing?" "Parliamentary democracy. ~ Douglas Adams

Dr. Mark Crisplin, a Portland, Oregon, ER doctor, reviewed the original EEG readings of a number of patients claimed by the scientists as being flatlined or "dead" and discovered that this was not at all the case. "What they showed was slowing, attenuation, and other changes, but only a minority of patients had a flat line, and it [dying] took longer than 10 seconds. The curious thing was that even a little blood flow in some patients was enough to keep EEGs normal." In fact, most cardiac patients were given CPR, which by definition delivers some oxygen to the brain (that's the whole point of doing it). Crisplin concluded: "By the definitions presented in the Lancet paper, nobody experienced clinical death. No doctor would ever declare a patient in the middle of a code 99 dead, much less brain dead. Having your heart stop for 2 to 10 minutes and being promptly resuscitated doesn't make you 'clinically dead.' It only means your heart isn't beating and you may not be conscious."31 Again, since our normal experience is of stimuli coming into the brain from the outside, when one part of the brain abnormally generates these illusions, another part of the brain - quite possibly the left-hemisphere interpreter described by neuroscientist Michael Gazzaniga - interprets them as external events. Hence, the abnormal is interpreted as supernormal or paranormal. ~ Michael Shermer

Fear and confession for the fear of
unknown,business mind to fulfill greeds and unsatisfaction, limited
knowledge makes the religion ~ Er.teji

Beauty that isn't felt isn't beauty ~ Er Tai Gao

There are MAYBE 30 years worth of ideas out there ... watch for the feature version of ER in about 25 years ... Hollywood has become hopelessly chained to the bottom line. ~ Bruce Campbell

Happiness don't ask to see who you be afore her sits down at your table. 'Er comes and sits with them as know how to welcome her and keep her the willing guest. ~ Jean Plaidy

Temperance Dews stood with quiet confidence, a respectable women who lived in the sewer that was St. Giles. Her eyes had widened at the sight of Lazarus, but she made no move to flee. Indeed, finding a strange man in her pathetic sitting room seemed not to frighten her at all.

Interesting.

"I am Lazarus Huntington, Lord Caire," he said.

"I know. What are you doing here?"

He tilted his head, studying her. She knew him, yet did not recoil in horror? Yes, she'd do quite well. "I've come to make a proposition to you, Mrs. Dews."

Still no sign of fear, though she eyed the doorway. "You've chosen the wrong woman, my lord. The night is late. Please leave my house."

No fear and no deference to his rank. An interesting woman indeed.

"My proposition is not, er, illicit in nature," he drawled. "In fact, it's quite respectable. Or nearly so."

She sighed, looked down at her tray, and then back up at him. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

He almost smiled. Tea? When had he last been offered something so very prosaic by a woman? He couldn't remember.

But he replied gravely enough. "Thank you, no."

She nodded. "Then if you don't mind?"

He waved a hand to indicate permission.

She set the tea tray on the wretched little table and sat on the padded footstool to pour herself a cup. He watched her. She was a monochromatic study. Her dress, bodice, hose, and s ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

I actually saw the loch ness monster when I was 9. She was big as a house. Want to know who the loch ness monster is? It's your obese mother. Burn mother****er ~ Thom Yorke

Yes, I did, I mean I painted er, in a kind of abstract expressionist way, because of course that was exciting. ~ David Hockney

Come on," he droned, "I've been ordered to take you down to the bridge. Here I am, brain the size of a planet and they ask me to take you down to the bridge. Call that job satisfaction? 'Cos I don't."
He turned and walked back to the hated door.
"Er, excuse me," said Ford following after him, "which government owns this ship?"
Marvin ignored him.
"You watch this door," he muttered, "it's about to open again. I can tell by the intolerable air of smugness it suddenly generates. ~ Douglas Adams

Merris, this is Mae and Jamie."
Merris unbent slightly. "Alan's young lady, I presume?"
Mae actually blushed. "Er - no."
"Young Nicholas's, then," Merris said wearily. "What they all see in you, I cannot imagine."
Nick leaned against the stall ansd smirked at her. "You'll never know until you try. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

Name the different kinds of people,' said Miss Lupescu. 'Now.'

Bod thought for a moment. 'The living,' he said. 'Er. The dead.' He stopped. Then, '... Cats?' he offered, uncertainly. ~ Neil Gaiman

Reverend Hartshorn's face had puckered into a scowl. "This, er, passionate experience of the divine to which you lay claim is not necessarily evidence of salvation," he said, choosing his words carefully. According to his theology, election was an absolute mystery; however, the notion that this foul-smelling lout could lay claim to revelation seemed monstrous. "The ~ Anita Diamant

We might have had a long way to go, sitting in an ER room with a broken dick, but that didn't matter. ~ River Savage

But I've never even been to Olympus! Zeus is crazy!"
Chiron and Grover glanced nervously at the sky. The clouds didn't seem to be parting around us, as Grover had promised. They were rolling straight over our valley, sealing us in like a coffin lid.
Er, Percy ... ?" Grover said. "We don't use the c-word to describe the Lord of the Sky. ~ Rick Riordan

You say halfer as if it's a terrible thing," he said. "But everyone I've ever known has been a halfer; if old enough t-to be called an adult, then ch-childish in their prejudices. All of us in the world really, I take to be h-halfers- half human, half divine, halfers of the best sort. I'd think the s-same must be true for the people of Wonderland, that there's ... there is no such thing as s-someone who is not a halfer, or even a quarter-er, if you'll allow me the inelegant term. ~ Frank Beddor

No one expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise, fear and surprise; two chief weapons, fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency! Er, among our chief weapons are: fear, surprise, ruthless efficiency, and near fanatical devotion to the Pope! Um, I'll come in again ... ~ Graham Chapman

Er," Oliver said. "He talks even less than the one Lily married," the crone remarked to Walter. "Though when the mood strikes him, he asks just as many questions as Galem." "I'm sorry," Oliver said weakly. The old woman nodded. "You are forgiven," she pronounced in a queenly tones. ~ Jessica Day George

Master Richard!" Hunch's voice was not loud, but it expressed volumes of scandalized disapproval.
Mairelon paused and looked up. "What is it?"
"You ain't going to just - " Hunch stopped and looked at Kim. "Not with 'er standing there!"
"Oh, is that all that's bothering you?" Mairelon looked at Kim and grinned. "Turn your back, child; you're offending Hunch's proprieties."
Kim flushed, as much from surprise as embarrassment, and turned away. "I ain't no child," she muttered under her breath.
"Under the circumstances, that's so much the worse," Mairelon replied cheerfully. ~ Patricia C. Wrede

Even if you're doing the national insurance awards, there's still that excitement when you wonder who is going to win, er, best premiums. ~ Jimmy Carr

No place I'd rather be stuck than inside--er, with you, Dr. Morgan. ~ Kendall Grey

What color are your panties? ~ E.R. Pierce

A draw-er doesn't draw because she loves to draw. She doesn't draw because she draws well. She draws because once she lost something. And by drawing--she will find it again. ~ Liana Finck

The people who review my books, generally, are kind of youngish culture writers who aspire to write books, or write opinion pieces about what they think of Neil Young, or why they quit watching ER or whatever. And because of that, I think there's a lot of people who write about my books with the premise of, "Why this guy? Why not me?" ~ Chuck Klosterman

Bacon. Let's talk about bacon. There's no meat more glorious than bacon. You can add it to pasta instead of cheese. You can stick it in a sandwich, er ... instead of cheese. ~ Rob Manuel

Seventeen more days," Jessi breathed wonderingly. "God, you must be climbing the . . . er, walls . . . or whatever's in there, huh?"
"Aye."
"So, just what is in there, anyway?" She tested the glass by shaking it gently, and deemed it secure enough. It shouldn't slide now.
"Stone," he said flatly.
"And what else?"
"Stone. Gray. Of varying sizes." His voice dropped to a colorless monotone. "Fifty-two thousand nine hundred and eighty-seven stones. Twenty-seven
thousand two hundred and sixteen of them
are a slightly paler gray than the rest. Thirty-six thousand and four are more rectangular than square. There are nine hundred and eighteen that have a
vaguely hexagonal shape. Ninety-two of
them have a vein of bronze running through the face. Three are cracked. Two paces from the center is a stone that protrudes slightly above the rest, over which I tripped for the first few
centuries. Any other questions?"
Jessi flinched as his words impacted her, taking her breath away. Her chest and throat felt suddenly tight. Uh, yeah, like, how did you stay sane in
there? What kept you from going stark raving mad? How did you survive over a thousand years in such a hell?
She didn't ask because it would have been like asking a mountain why it was still standing, as it had been since the dawn of time, perhaps reshaped in subtle ways, but there, always there. Barring cataclysmic planetary upheaval, forever there. The man was strong ~ Karen Marie Moning

Ach. Now, there be a lass with a bonny look to 'er. And I'm thinking it's nae me she's coming to see. ~ Karen Witemeyer

Hetty was awakened from a doze in a chair by the sound of a door opening. She was about to make herself known to whoever had entered the library when someone else entered, too, and she heard Minerva say, "Well? What do you think? Am I right about Oliver and Miss Butterfield?"
Shrinking into the chair, she prayed she wouldn't be noticed in the corner.
"It certainly looks that way." It was Jarret's voice. "He does seem to have genuine feelings for her. I've never witnessed him act like that over a woman. You should have seen him-ready to strike me when I suggested going after her myself."
"What a brilliant touch!" Minerva cried. "I told you he liked her. And I'll hazard a guess that she likes him, too. I went up to her room after they got back, and she blushed furiously when I asked if Oliver had behaved himself."
"That's the problem. Liking her is one thing, but whether he'll act on the attraction honorably is another matter entirely. Oliver isn't used to being around a woman he's not allowed to…er…"
"Take to bed."
Hetty blinked.
"My God, Minerva, don't say things like that! You're not supposed to know about such matters."
"Pish posh. I could hardly grow up with a rogue for a father and three rogue brothers without hearing a few things."
Hetty had to chomp on the inside of her cheek to stifle her laugh.
"Well, at least pretend you don't know, will you?" Jarret grumbled. "One day you'll say something like that in public and give ~ Sabrina Jeffries

When they rolled to a stop, she found herself pinned by a tremendous, huffing weight. And pierced by an intense green gaze.
"Wh-?" Her breath rushed out in question.
Boom, the world answered.
Susanna ducked her head, burrowing into the protection of what she'd recognized to be an officer's coat. The knob of a brass button pressed into her cheek. The man's bulk formed a comforting shield as a shower of dirt clods rained down on them both. He smelled of whiskey and gunpowder.
After the dust cleared, she brushed the hair from his brow, searching his gaze for signs of confusion or pain. His eyes were alert and intelligent, and still that startling shade of green-as hard and richly hued as jade.
She asked, "Are you well?"
"Yes." His voice was a deep rasp. "Are you?"
She nodded, expecting him to release her at the confirmation. When he showed no signs of moving, she puzzled at it. Either he was gravely injured or seriously impertinent. "Sir, you're…er, you're rather heavy." Surely he could not fail to miss that hint.
He replied, "You're soft."
Good Lord. Who was this man? Where had he come from? And how was he still atop her?
"You have a small wound." With trembling fingers, she brushed a reddish knot high on his temple, near his hairline. "Here." She pressed her hand to his throat, feeling for his pulse. She found it, thumping strong and steady against her gloved fingertips.
"Ah. That's nice."
Her face blazed with heat. " ~ Tessa Dare

She asked, "Are you well?"
"Yes." His voice was a deep rasp. "Are you?"
She nodded, expecting him to release her at the confirmation. When he showed no signs of moving, she puzzled at it. Either he was gravely injured or seriously impertinent. "Sir, you're…er, you're rather heavy." Surely he could not fail to miss that hint.
He replied, "You're soft."
Good Lord. Who was this man? Where had he come from? And how was he still atop her?
"You have a small wound." With trembling fingers, she brushed a reddish knot high on his temple, near his hairline. "Here." She pressed her hand to his throat, feeling for his pulse. She found it, thumping strong and steady against her gloved fingertips.
"Ah. That's nice."
Her face blazed with heat. "Are you seeing double?"
"Perhaps. I see two lips, two eyes, two flushed cheeks…a thousand freckles."
She stared at him.
"Don't concern yourself, miss. It's nothing." His gaze darkened with some mysterious intent. "Nothing a little kiss won't mend."
And before she could even catch her breath, he pressed his lips to hers.
A kiss. His mouth, touching hers. It was warm and firm, and then…it was over.
Her first real kiss in all her five-and-twenty years, and it was finished in a heartbeat. Just a memory now, save for the faint bite of whiskey on her lips. And the heat. She still tasted his scorching, masculine heat. Belatedly, she closed her eyes.
"There, now," he murmured. "All better. ~ Tessa Dare

We might just have one night, but we have all night. I don't plan to waste any of it sleeping. ~ Kimberly Kincaid

I was, er, twirling," I said. His lips twitched. "I cannot imagine it. You must demonstrate for me." I glared at him. "I certainly will not. It was not meant for an audience. It was just something I did because ... " I waved my hand around, at a complete loss for words. ~ Julianne Donaldson

INT. MINISTÈRE DES AFFAIRES MAGIQUES, RECORDS ROOM ATRIUM - NIGHT
MELUSINE: Puis-je vous aider?
NEWT: Er - yes, this is Leta Lestrange. And - I'm her -
TINA: Fiancé.
There is an increased awkwardness between them.
NEWT: Tina, about that fiancée business -
TINA (brittle): Sorry, yeah. I should have congratulated you -
The doors to the records office open. They enter briskly.

INT. MINISTÈRE DES AFFAIRES MAGIQUES, RECORDS ROOM - NIGHT
The doors close behind them, plunging them into darkness.
NEWT: No, that's -
TINA: Lumos.
NEWT: Tina - about Leta -
TINA: Yes, I've just said, I am happy for you -
NEWT: Yeah, well, don't.
She stops. Looks at him. What?
NEWT: Please don't be happy.
(in trouble) Uh, no, no. I'm sorry. I don't . . . Uh, obviously, I - Obviously I want you to be. And I hear that you are now. Uh, which is wonderful. Sorry -
(a gesture of hopelessness) What I'm trying to say is, I want you to be happy, but don't be happy that I'm happy, because I'm not.
(off her confusion) Happy.
(off her continued confusion) Or engaged.
TINA: What?
NEWT: It was a mistake in a stupid magazine. My brother's marrying Leta, June the sixth. I'm supposed to be best man. Which is sort of mildly hilarious.
TINA: Does he think you're here to win her back?
(beat)
Are you here to win her back?
NEWT: No! I'm here to -
A beat. He stares at her.
NE ~ J.K. Rowling

Sounds impossible. I like it. Except it is pretty impossible. You don't happen to remember anything else extremely useful that you've omitted to mention until now?"

"Er," said Paris.

"That was actually a joke," said Vai.

"I'm not good at jokes," said Paris. ~ Rosamund Hodge

Besides,I like working outdoors. Pa and the boys have always let me help with the ranch chores."
This was received with a raised eyebrow. "Indeed. How kind of them. Willow,the men in your family treat you more like a slave than the young lady you are. It's a sin, I tell you, a deplorable sin!"
Willow shrugged. "Hell...er, ah, heck, I'd rather round up cows than be stuck in the house all day. Besides, there ain't much house work with Pa and the boys gone."
"Humph! Too bad your pa didn't teach you more about the joys of being a lady."
The girl bristled. "I am a lady! I may not wear those fancy, highfalutin clothes, or walk around looking helpless, but that ain't what really makes a lady, you know."
"And what, pray tell, in your opinion, makes a lady, Willow?"
"A woman is a lady as long as she keeps her distance from horny critters of the opposite sex." She grinned proudly and declared, "I do.That makes me a lady!"
"Horny crit-" Shocked, Mrs. Brigham stared a moment, then nodded firmly. "My dear, someone needs to take you in hand, and I know my duty when I see it. Now listen to me, young lady-mind you, I use the term lightly. There's much more to being a lady than avoiding the opposite sex. For instance, ladies don't wear men's pants. Ladies don't herd cattle. And ladies don't smoke, curse, or sneak whiskey. I have it on good authority that you've done all those things and more. And, furthermore, ladies don't know the meaning of...horny!"
~ Charlotte McPherren

Grom greets him with a smile full of nausea. "I'm not ready for this, little brother," he confesses.
"Sure you are," Galen laughs, slapping his brother's back.
Grom shakes his head. "It feels like...like I'm betraying her. Nalia."
Galen stiffens. Oh. He doesn't feel qualified to talk Grom out of this kind of mood. "I'm sure she would understand," he offers.
Grom studies him thoughtfully. "I'd like to think she would. But you didn't know Nalia. She had an amazing temper."
He chuckles. "I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting to see her ready to bludgeon me with something for mating with someone else."
Galen frowns, unsure of what to say.
Grom chuckles. "I'm joking, of course." Then he shrugs. "Well, half joking, anyway. I swear I've been sensing her lately, Galen. It feels so real. It takes all I've got not to follow the pulse. Do you think I'm losing my mind?"
Galen shakes his head out of obligation. Secretly though, he thinks he might be. "I'm sure you're just feeling guilty. Er...not that you have a reason to feel guilty. Uh, it's just natural that you feel that way before your mating ceremony. Nerves and all." Galen runs a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm not very good at this sort of thing."
"What sort of thing? Being mature?" Grom smirks.
"Funny."
"Maybe you should spend some more time on land, then come back and talk to me. Being on land ages you, you know. Might do you some good."
Galen snorts. Now yo ~ Anna Banks

The one thing about being on 'ER' that has changed is that I'm more easily recognizable. ~ Linda Cardellini

I want to get a job naming kitchen appliances. That seems easy; refrigerator, toaster, blender. You just say what the thing does and add "er". ~ Mitch Hedberg

Becky fell unusually quiet as she smoothed Macy's overalls that had scrunched under her legs. A tender gesture probably nobody else had noticed. "I don't want to say this the wrong way, Shah-loh, but we're all gonna die."

"Of course we are." A drop of water fell from the end of the snapdragon stem. "But I prefer not to kill my flowers before their time."

"Well, cut er not cut, we're all goin'." Becky spoke so soberly that I turned my eyes to her. "Ain't no stoppin' it. You know that."

"Sure I do, but isn't it a waste? All that beautiful bloom for what-an hour?"

"Mebbe in some ways, but..." She gathered a handful of roses and freesia, delicately perfumed, and pressed them in my hands. "Ya gotta remember though-this was their purpose all along. And they did it to their fullest. It's their gift."

I felt strangely moved, standing there with shoppers laughing in the background. And me looking down at those beautiful doomed flowers in my hands, their glowing colors trembling with drops.

"But it's such a waste, Becky!"

"Or a sacrifice. Depends on how ya look at it. They lived and bloomed, jest like they were made to do. And when it was time to go, they gracefully said yes."

She ran her hands over the petals, which gleamed like bits of satin. "We're seein' their last magnificent moments and enjoyin' 'em. If you was a flower, wouldn't that make ya happy to know you'd done what you was born ta do? E ~ Jennifer Rogers Spinola

I 'uz mos' to de foot er de islan' b'fo' I found' a good place. I went into de woods en jedged I wouldn' fool wid raffs no mo', long as dey move de lantern roun' so. I had my pipe en a plug er dog-leg, en some matches in my cap, en dey warn't wet, so I 'uz all right. ~ Mark Twain

See you at breakfast?"
"Yeah.See ya." I try to say this casually,but I'm so thrilled that I skip from her room and promptly slam into a wall.
Whoops.Not a wall.A boy.
"Oof." He staggers backward.
"Sorry! I'm so sorry,I didn't know you were there."
He shakes his head,a little dazed. The first thing I notice is his hair-it's the first thing I notice about everyone. It's dark brown and messy and somehow both long and short at the same time. I think of the Beatles,since I've just seen them in Meredith's room. It's artist hair.Musician hair. I-pretend-I-don't-care-but-I-really-do-hair.
Beautiful hair.
"It's okay,I didn't see you either. Are you all right,then?"
Oh my.He's English.
"Er.Does Mer live here?"
Seriously,I don't know any American girl who can resist an English accent.
The boy clears his throat. "Meredith Chevalier? Tall girl? Big,curly hair?" Then he looks at me like I'm crazy or half deaf,like my Nanna Oliphant. Nanna just smiles and shakes her head whenever I ask, "What kind of salad dressing would you like?" or "Where did you put Granddad's false teeth?"
"I'm sorry." He takes the smallest step away from me. "You were going to bed."
"Yes! Meredith lives there.I've just spent two hours with her." I announce this proudly like my brother, Seany, whenever he finds something disgusting in the yard. "I'm Anna! I'm new here!" Oh God. What.Is with.The scary enthusiasm? My cheeks catch fire, and it's all so humil ~ Stephanie Perkins

Prosperity obscures rather than reveals how much fallen humans love God. "Blessings" easily turn into curses as sinners subtly ( or not so subtly) come to love and trust the blessings more than the bless-er. ~ Jon Bloom

As I'm heading back to the ER, my hands shaking from both nerves and anticipation, it occurs to me how much I'm aching to hear his voice again. To brush my thumbs across his cheek and feel the sexy stubble that always seems to be there. I'm dying to tell him about the man with no one to call and make sure he knows that no matter what, when he's forty and injured in the ER, he can call me. He can always call me.
Is this what love is? ~ Julie Cross

Go litel bok, go, litel myn tragedye,
Ther God thi makere yet, er that he dye,
So sende myght to make in som comedye!
But litel book, no makyng thow n'envie,
But subgit be to alle poesye;
And kis the steppes where as thow seest pace
Virgile, Ovide, Omer, Lucan, and Stace. ~ Geoffrey Chaucer

Alec took a deep breath and let it out. Well, he'd come this far; he might as well go on. The bare lightbulb hanging overhead cast sweeping shadows as he reached forward and pressed the buzzer.
A moment later a voice echoed through the stairwell. "WHO CALLS UPON THE HIGH WARLOCK?"
"Er," Alec said. "It's me. I mean, Alec. Alec Lightwood."
There was a sort of silence, as if even the hallway itself were surprised. Then a ping, and the second door opened, letting him out onto the stairwell. He headed up the rickety stairs into the darkness, which smelled like pizza and dust. The second floor landing was bright, the door at the far end open. Magnus Bane was leaning in the entryway. ~ Cassandra Clare

Watching and listening are a great art - watching and listening without any reaction, without any sense of the listener or the see-er. By watching and listening we learn infinitely more than from any book. Books are necessary, but watching and listening sharpen your senses. ~ Jiddu Krishnamurti

I'm looking for the exit."
"The Last Exit to Brooklyn, will it be?"
"Er, no! Just the way out."
From "One man in his time ~ Anthony J. Saunders