No Limits How I Beat The Slots Quotes

Strive to be beyond what others perceive you to be, by striving beyond the limits of yourself. ~ Debbie Tosun Kilday

I am so glad Todd and I eloped," she said sincerely. "There was no way to salvage the wreckage. But I think that you deserved this, and I'm very happy for you." She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. Then she whispered, "He is really, really a hottie. How did you mange that?"
"Brat," I told her, and gave her a hug. "Todd's not exactly chopped liver."
She smiled smugly and took another sip. "No he's not."
"He could be," said Ben from behind me, his British accent giving him a civilized air that he didn't deserve. "Do you want him to be chopped liver, darling?"
I turned, making sure I was between Ben and Nan, "My sisters are off-limits," I reminded him.
A flash of hurt came and went on his face. With Ben, it was even odds whether the emotion was genuine or not -but my instincts told me they had been. So I continued in a mock-chiding tone, "Ruthie is too young for you, and Nan is married to a very nice man. So be good."
Nan had caught the flash of hurt, too, I thought. She was softer than our mother, more like her father in temperament as well as looks. She couldn't stand to have anyone hurting and not do anything about it.
She sighed dramatically. "All the pretty men, and I'm tied to just one."
Ben smiled at her. "Anytime you want to change that…"
I poked him in the side-he could have slipped out of the way, but he didn't bother.
"Okay," he said, backing away with exaggerated fear. "Ill be good, I promise. Just don't hurt me ~ Patricia Briggs

We wouldn't even have wars, if adults followed the rules they learned as children. A four-year old would be able to see how foolish grown men are behaving if you explained the war in child's terms. A boy named Germany started causing problems all over the playground that included beating up a girl named Belgium on his way to hurt a kid named France. Then England tried to beat up Germany to help France and Belgium, and when that didn't work, they called over a kid named America, and people started pounding on him, too. ~ Cat Winters

I don't know how to stop loving you, Quinn. I don't know how to make my heart not beat for you. You're the only man I want in my life. ~ Corinne Michaels

This is a very common thing among male groups of friends. There is a person who's always taking heat from everyone else for various reasons. Not that I'm defending this behavior though, fuck no, I hate it when guys are like this; it's barbaric and stupid.

Unfortunately I think it's like an unconscious thing that just comes natural to guys when we're in groups. We take the piss out of each other all the time, prodding until we know the limits of each other and crossing the lines once in a while to test the boundaries.

Some guys who're overly-nice or don't fully understand this dynamic get completely shit on by it. If you keep excusing small actions by others that violate your boundaries, they'll just keep pushing and pushing, giving less and less respect until they know how far they're allowed to go. Having people knowing your limits and making sure to not cross them equates to respect, which is what we're after.

This doesn't mean you should to tell them all to fuck off now; that wouldn't work anymore because you've allowed them this far into your territory. It'd seem like an overreaction from you, which makes sense, right?

"We were just joking around yesterday about the same things, he seemed cool with it, but now he's all pissed for some reason, this guys a whack..."

The key thing to note if you want to avoid this in the future is to either find "nicer" friends, or to let people know when they cross a boundary. This may ~ Anonymous

But the swamp don't mind. How could it? It's all just life, going over itself, returning and cycling and eating itself to grow. I mean, it's not that it's not Noisy here. Sure it is, there's no escaping Noise, not nowhere at all, but it's quieter than the town. The loud is a different kind of loud, because swamp loud is just curiosity, creachers figuring out who you are and if yer a threat. Whereas the town knows all about you already and wants to know more and wants to beat you with what it knows till how can you have any of yerself left at all? ~ Patrick Ness

Wait a minute," Hadrian said. "Was it a beat-up brown leather notebook?
About this big?" He gestured with his hands.
"Yes," the Patriarch said.
Arista looked back and forth between them. "How do you know that?"
"I know it because I have lived in the Crown Tower," the Patriarch
said.
"And you?" Arista looked at Hadrian, who hesitated.
"Ha-ha! Of course, of course. I knew it!" Cosmos DeLur chuckled and
clapped his hands together in single applause while smiling at Hadrian.
"Such a wonderfully delightful rumor as that had to be true. That is
an exquisite accomplishment."
"You stole it?" Arista asked.
"Yes, he did," the Patriarch declared.
"Actually," Hadrian said, "Royce and I did, but we put it back the next night. ~ Michael J. Sullivan

My first-born. All I can remember of her is how she loved the burned bottom of bread. Can you beat that?Eight children and that's all I remember. ~ Toni Morrison

I don't know how I know that, but I do. I can feel the beat of that truth inside me. Taste it bitter on my tongue.
Sometimes, like now, I didn't think I want to know who I really am. ~ Elizabeth Scott

That sigh didna sound good," Rhys said into the silence of the room.
Lily hadn't even realized she had sighed. She listened to the beat of his heart beneath her ear. "Just thinking."
"Anything I can help with?"
How she wished he could.
Lily opened her eyes to look at his handsome face, a shadow of a beard darkening his jaw. "Unfortunately, no."
"You're no' thinking of that wanker of an ex while in bed with me, are you?" he asked as he cracked open an eye and smiled at her.
She chuckled. "I would never."
"Good, because that could severely damage my confidence. ~ Donna Grant

If I beat my grandmother to death to-morrow in the middle of Battersea Park, you may be perfectly certain that people will say everything about it except the simple and fairly obvious fact that it is wrong. Some will call it insane; that is, will accuse it of a deficiency of intelligence. This is not necessarily true at all. You could not tell whether the act was unintelligent or not unless you knew my grandmother. Some will call it vulgar, disgusting, and the rest of it; that is, they will accuse it of a lack of manners. Perhaps it does show a lack of manners; but this is scarcely its most serious disadvantage. Others will talk about the loathsome spectacle and the revolting scene; that is, they will accuse it of a deficiency of art, or aesthetic beauty. This again depends on the circumstances: in order to be quite certain that the appearance of the old lady has definitely deteriorated under the process of being beaten to death, it is necessary for the philosophical critic to be quite certain how ugly she was before. Another school of thinkers will say that the action is lacking in efficiency: that it is an uneconomic waste of a good grandmother. But that could only depend on the value, which is again an individual matter. The only real point that is worth mentioning is that the action is wicked, because your grandmother has a right not to be beaten to death. But of this simple moral explanation modern journalism has, as I say, a standing fear. It will call the action anythi ~ G.K. Chesterton

When I consider the narrow limits within which our active and inquiring faculties are confined; when I see how all our energies are wasted in providing for mere necessities, which again have no further end than to prolong a wretched existence; and then that all our satisfaction concerning certain subjects of investigation ends in nothing better than a passive resignation ... when I consider all this ... I am silent. ~ Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

On hearing the jingle of harness behind them, they turned. Melletin and Yelena were fast catching up, both grinning broadly.

"How did it go?" Ramil called.

"Would you believe it: he threatened to lock me up in his mother's house if I didn't behave!" exclaimed Yelena, sticking her tongue out at Melletin. "I threw a roll at him and he clipped me around the ear. The soldiers were all about to beat him up when I burst into tears and begged his forgiveness. We had a passionate reconciliation and went on our way with their good wishes for our marital harmony."

Melletin rubbed his lips. "Where's the next checkpoint, Yelena? I can't wait to do that again."

"Watch it, sir: I'll report you," Yelena threatened, but she looked very pleased all the same. ~ Julia Golding

Who knows, maybe those two rogue leaders, Gandhi and Jesus, were right - a loving response changes the people who would beat the shit out of you, including yourself, of course. Their way, of the heart, makes everything bigger. Decency and goodness are subversively folded into the craziness, like caramel ribbons into ice cream. Otherwise, it's about me, and my bile ducts, and how unique I am and how I've suffered. And that is what hell is like. ~ Anne Lamott

Adeline is Battered & Threatened

Not knowing the title of this bureaucrat, I addressed him incorrectly as Meine Herrschaften. With this silly fabricated title, I simply tried to explain to him that the corporal was a brave Frontsoldat. My efforts were in vain since he was intent on finding out the corporal's name, and my stalling only made matters worse. "What's his name?" he shouted again and again, this time hitting my breasts and punching me in the stomach, which caused me to vomit all over the floor. It didn't matter to him that my husband was a German soldier fighting for das Vaterland. He continued to beat me and threatened to put me into the terrible prison camp at Schirmeck. Having passed by there recently, the crying and moaning sounds from inside the gates of this prison were still very vivid in my mind. He reached for his telephone and said, "With one call you'll be there if you don't answer me!" "Please, I won't be able to live with myself if I'm the cause of an innocent person's death," I sobbed. I remember him saying, "I remember you! You're the woman from Bischoffsheim who helped with the kindergarten class and did the art work there. You have two little girls, don't you?" How could this man know so much about me? He continued his threats by saying that he would beat my little girls at 3 o'clock every afternoon in the Village center, until I gave him the names he wanted. I formed a mental image of this cruel act, however in spite of this, I firm ~ Hank Bracker

She's a spitfire and she has no idea how beautiful she is. It always looks like she has something on her mind. It seems like she has the world on her shoulders and I just wish that I could take away all of her pain. I know she's been through a lot in her life, but she never lets it get to her. I can tell that somebody has really beaten her down and broken her spirits. It just makes me want to beat the living shit out of that person for making her feel the way she does. While she's the smartest person I know, she can also be so blind because I thought I'd gotten my feelings across, but I'm either not trying hard enough or she just thinks very little of herself. I want to be the one who helps her. Takes care of her. I know we could be something really great. The only question is whether she's willing to take that leap of faith with me. I'm just waiting for her to open her eyes and see what's standing right in front of her. ~ Emily McKee

Then he happened to glance at the viscount, and his blood stilled. The viscount's eyes followed Celia's every move, and his finger kept stroking his goblet as if he wanted to stroke some part of her.
Jackson gritted his teeth. No way in hell was he letting that bloody foreigner-or Devonmont, or even the duke-stroke anything of hers. "Are we going to stand around all day discussing which guns are more effective at killing," he snapped, "or are we actually going to kill something?"
Gabe exchanged a glance with his sister. "You're right. 'Prickly' is the word."
"Mr. Pinter is probably just eager to earn his kiss," Stoneville put in. "And given how the numbers stand right now, he may very well do so."
They all pivoted to look at his lordship.
Stoneville chuckled. "Devonmont has killed a pathetic eight brace of birds, Gabe a respectable fifteen, Basto an impressive seventeen and a half, Lyons an even more impressive nineteen, and Pinter an astonishing twenty brace. My sister is tied with him at twenty brace."
"Good show, Pinter!" Gabe said amiably. "You must beat her so none of us have to pay for a blasted rifle."
"Here now, Gabe," the duke cut in irritably, "I have as much chance of beating her as Pinter does. I'm only behind by one brace."
"I don't' care who beats her," Gabe said. "Just make sure one of you does, in case I can't catch up. She'll pick the most expensive gun in Manton's shop."
"You're such a pinchpenny, Gabe," Celia tea ~ Sabrina Jeffries

I shouldn't have survived - it was my destiny to die - even Dumbledore thought so - and yet i lived. I beat Voldemort. All these people - all these people - my parents, Fred, the Fallen Fifty - and it's me that gets to live? how is that? All this damage - and it's my fault. ~ Jack Thorne

He has a very nice face and style, really," said Mrs. Kenwigs.
"He certainly has," added Miss Petowker. "There's something in his appearance quite
dear, dear, what's the word again?"
"What word?" inquired Mr. Lillyvick.
"Why
dear me, how stupid I am!" replied Miss Petowker, hesitating. "What do you call it when lords break off doorknockers, and beat policemen, and play at coaches with other people's money, and all that sort of thing?"
"Aristocratic?" suggested the collector.
"Ah! Aristocratic," replied Miss Petowker; "something very aristocratic about him, isn't there?"
The gentlemen held their peace, and smiled at each other, as who should say, "Well! there's no accounting for tastes;" but the ladies resolved unanimously that Nicholas had an aristocratic air, and nobody caring to dispute the position, it was established triumphantly. ~ Charles Dickens

I will repeat history over and over. I'm one of those girls where I would just rather beat it into the ground than go through the rest of my life wondering how it would have worked out. ~ Chelsea Kane

Tears pricked at my eyes. "You were still a child when your parents died. Besides, I think that's what gives you those dark edges. Your wings have beat against the darkest side of life."

He shook his head. "I don't have wings."

I rubbed between his shoulder blades. "I think maybe you do. Maybe they were broken somewhere along the way or maybe you just forgot how to use them…"

A smile teased at the corner of his lips. "I'm no angel."

"You're my angel," I insisted. ~ K.S. Ruff

I love

how grown children
will still
name

their mothers
the
most
beautiful.

It is
as though,

their eyes
have met
the cascading
curves

and golden
silhouettes
of every
woman.

Yet
their souls
still
drum

to the beat
of their
mother's
warmth
and care. ~ A Starry Eyed April

V? Answer the question or so help me God I'll beat it out of you."
"I just know how to find him."
"What are you hiding?"
V went over to the bar, poured himself a couple of fingers of Grey
Goose, and hammered the shot. He swallowed a number of times and then
let the words fly.
"I fed him."
A chorus of inhales floated a ... round the room. As Wrath rose in disbelief, V poured himself another hit of Goose.
"You did what?" The last word was bellowed.
"I had him drink some of me."
"Vishous ... " Wrath stalked around the desk, shitkickers hitting the
floor like boulders. The king got face-to-face close. "He's a male.
He's human. What the fuck were you thinking?"
More vodka. Definitely time for more Goose. ~ J.R. Ward

President Barack Obama and many liberal-minded commentators have been hesitant to call this Islamist ideology by its proper name. They seem to fear that both Muslim communities and the religiously intolerant will hear the word "Islam" and simply assume that all Muslims are being held responsible for the excesses of the jihadist few.

I call this the Voldemort effect, after the villain in J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books. Many well-meaning people in Ms. Rowling's fictional world are so petrified of Voldemort's evil that they do two things: They refuse to call Voldemort by name, instead referring to "He Who Must Not Be Named," and they deny that he exists in the first place. Such dread only increases public hysteria, thus magnifying the appeal of Voldemort's power.

The same hysteria about Islamism is unfolding before our eyes. But no strategy intended to defeat Islamism can succeed if Islamism itself and its violent expression in jihadism are not first named, isolated and understood.

From: Maajid Nawaz's article titled, 'How to Beat Islamic State', December 11th, 2015. ~ Maajid Nawaz

I'll hear a beat and think, 'How can I make this a banger?' I'll write the lyrics on my phone or on a piece of paper, and either way, it's going to be a slapper. ~ Swae Lee

I miss my pilot," M-Bot said. "I 'miss' him because of the loss of knowledge. Without proper information, I cannot judge my future actions. My ability to interface with the world, and to be efficient, is lessened." He hesitated. "I am broken, and do not know how to fulfill my purpose. Is this how you feel?"
"Maybe." I made a fist, forcing myself to stop fidgeting. "But I'm going to beat it, M-Bot."
"It must be nice to have free will."
"You have free will too. We've talked about this."
"I simulate it in order to seem more palatable to humans," he said. "But I do not have it. Free will is the ability to ignore your programming. Humans can ignore theirs, but I - at a fundamental level - cannot."
"Humans don't have programming."
"Yes you do. You have too much of it. Conflicting programs, none of it interfacing properly, all calling different functions at the same time - or the same function for contradictory reasons. Yet you ignore it sometimes. That is not a flaw. It is what makes you you. ~ Sanderson Brandon

How do you tell the difference between carelessness and passion?" Claire asked as they paced back along the edge of the marsh. "Is there one? I meane, really, is there any way to love a person without the hell beat out of you for it? ~ Tiffany Baker

That's love? To let someone beat you and be hateful to you? These people are all so ... Weak. Powerless to change their lives. I know the feeling. All you can do is take it. No one understands how it beats you down. ~ Julie Anne Peters

My father being a Caribbean minister, one day I stole the radio. The radio that I stole, I took it to school, showing off how big this boom box was and how bad I was at the time. Once my father figured out where I left the radio, he then got his belt and he walked me, he beat me all the way to where I had hid the radio, and with the boom box. ~ Wyclef Jean

I don't have any great love for Chicago. What the hell, a childhood around Douglas Park isn't very memorable. I remember the street fights and how you were afraid to cross the bridge 'cause the Irish kid on the other side would beat your head in. I left Chicago a long time ago. ~ Benny Goodman

When I step foot to my locker and change shoes for training, its like turning on a switch. I become a creature. Not a human. I look to tear apart anyone and everyone in my way to hugeness and I don't care how I do it. I can feel my heart start jumping and my body start saying "beat me into the ground like a red-headed step child. I want punishment" I WANT TO BE A FREAK, A FREAK I TELL YOU!! ~ Jason Bennett