Quotes About Saints Row The Third Idle
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On Sunday at St St. Andrews in 2005, Tiger woke up with a two-stroke lead, and his warm-up on the practice range was freakishly good. He'd comment later that it was one of the best of his life. He hit the 50-yard sign four times in a row, the 100-yard sign three times in a row, and the 150-yard sign on his first shot. I jokingly told Steve that on shots around 100 yards he should remind Tiger to aim right or left of the pin. Sure enough, on the third hole Tiger's wedge hit the pin and bounced off the green. ~ Hank Haney
He told me to stay away from you."
Strong hands roamed her back in the most comforting fashion. "You should have listened."
Rose raised her face to look at him. "But then I would not have known what it was to be truly happy."
Grey's eyes widened, and for a moment he looked young and vulnerable. "Don't say that. I've made you miserable."
She smiled sadly. "True, but those nights with you at Saint's Row? That was happiness for me. The most I've ever known."
His mouth opened and she pressed her fingers again his lips to close them. "You don't have to say anything. I already know it's not what I want to hear."
Grey frowned, and reached up to move her hand from his face. He held her fingers within his. He gave off more heat than the fire she'd fried herself in front of earlier. Heat that went straight to her bones, right to the very center of her being, radiating out into her limbs. There was nothing seductive about their embrace and yet she ached inside, that wet and willing part of herself desperate to take him inside once more. She wanted to claim him, mark him.
Ruin him for anyone else.
"I was happy too," he said softly. So softly she wouldn't have known it was him who spoke were she not watching his beautiful lips as they formed the words. "God help me, you make me forget every vow and promise I've ever made."
Heart pounding, Rose didn't resist as he dropped her hand to thread his fingers in her hair, pressing against her scalp. "Y ~ Kathryn Smith
There have been heroes here, and saints and martyrs and I want you to know that. Because that is the truth even if no one remembers it. To look at the lace, it's just a cluster of houses strung along a few roads, and a little row of brick buildings with stores in them, and a grain elevator and a water tower with Gilead written on its side, and the post office and the schools and the playing fields and the old train station, which is pretty well gone to weeds now. But what must Galilee have looks like? You can't tell so much from the appearance of a place. ~ Marilynne Robinson
If I were the Devil . . . I mean, if I were the Prince of Darkness, I would of course, want to engulf the whole earth in darkness. I would have a third of its real estate and four-fifths of its population, but I would not be happy until I had seized the ripest apple on the tree, so I should set about however necessary to take over the United States. I would begin with a campaign of whispers. With the wisdom of a serpent, I would whisper to you as I whispered to Eve: "Do as you please." "Do as you please." To the young, I would whisper, "The Bible is a myth." I would convince them that man created God instead of the other way around. I would confide that what is bad is good, and what is good is "square". In the ears of the young marrieds, I would whisper that work is debasing, that cocktail parties are good for you. I would caution them not to be extreme in religion, in patriotism, in moral conduct. And the old, I would teach to pray. I would teach them to say after me: "Our Father, which art in Washington" . . .
If I were the devil, I'd educate authors in how to make lurid literature exciting so that anything else would appear dull an uninteresting. I'd threaten T.V. with dirtier movies and vice versa. And then, if I were the devil, I'd get organized. I'd infiltrate unions and urge more loafing and less work, because idle hands usually work for me. I'd peddle narcotics to whom I could. I'd sell alcohol to ladies and gentlemen of distinction. And I'd tranquilize the ~ Paul Harvey
So, what have I learned over my long and weird life?
Well, first, that there are two kinds of people, and I don't much care for either of them. Second, when faced with a difficult choice, either way is often best. Third, always leave a party when people begin to play the bongos. ~ Eric Idle
Yes, I do. I think I'm very observant. I observe that the rash on your left hand isn't going to get better if you continue to use the same ointment. You're allergic to it. I observe that the gentleman in the third row on the left has a bad case of conjunctivitis-pinkeye, in the layman's terms. And the woman in the second row has a bag of candies in her purse, and she's trying to figure out away to eat them without making noise. They're M&M's. I also observe that your associate attorney at the defense table keeps looking at his watch and is very anxious to get out of here because he appears to have something going on with the court reporter. And I observe you're unzipped. ~ Julie Garwood
His warm tickling fingers stroked against her like the idle sway of river reeds... cunning fingertips that quickly discovered where she most wanted them. He toyed with her, parting her, slowly investigating the cambered softness and the sensitive places within. Blindly she reached down to grip his stronger wrist, feeling the intricate movements of bone and tendon. He slid two fingers inside her, his thumb gliding over her sex in tender circles.
The water sloshed in the tub as she began to push up rhythmically, urging herself into his hand. A third finger worked inside, and she tightened and gasped out a protest- it was too much, she couldn't- but he whispered that she could, she must, and he stretched her carefully and took her groans into his mouth.
Splayed and floating, Win felt herself loosening, opening to the sensuality of the fingers reaching inside her. She felt greedy and wild, undulating to capture more of the obliterating pleasure. She actually clawed him a little, her hands scrabbling against his hard, bare skin, and he growled as if it pleased him. An abbreviated cry left her lips at the first shock of release. She tried to stifle it, but another was torn from her, and another, and the bathwater rippled as she shuddered, the climax lengthened by the delicately emphatic thrusting that continued until she was limp and panting. ~ Lisa Kleypas
Receiving the Newcombe Medal for a third year in a row is an amazing honour. The Newcombe Medal is a great occasion for the Australian tennis community to come together and celebrate our sport, recognise people's achievements and contributions to Australian tennis. ~ Samantha Stosur
I never knew the difference between loving someone and being in love," he began. "I don't know why, because now it seems so obvious. I mean, it's in the name: in love. When you love someone that just means you care; but when you're in love, that means you're a part of it." He scanned the audience and landed on Paxton and Jade holding hands in the third row. "The feeling consumes you," he continued. "And when you're surrounded by that want and that need to make that other person happy, you can't see anything else. You're blind to all of the hate and the hurt that's waiting on the outside. None of it matters, because in here – in love – nothing hurts." Larson watched as a drop of his own tears fell onto the surface in front of him. "I don't care if I'm blind for the rest of my life. I loved Owen. I'm in love with him. And even though he's gone, I'll never leave this place we made. ~ Megan Duke
In the sixth row of the theater, in the third chair in, Anna winks at me. Or maybe she just blinks. I can't tell. She's missing half of her face. ~ Kendare Blake
My dad also survived five divorces, and the women he married cleaned his ass out every time. I used to think my dad got divorced because he wanted new furniture. At one point in my life, all we had left was a wooden box, a 12 black-and-white TV, and a four-man rubber raft for a couch. And yet, I was the coolest kid in third grade. Mom, can we have a sleepover in Christopher Titus' house? They have a raft in the living room! We can row to breakfast in the morning. I can actually be Captain Crunch! ~ Christopher Titus
Creation is built upon the promise of hope, that things will get better, that tomorrow will be better than the day before.
But it's not true. Cities collapse. Populations expand. Environments decay. People get ruder. You can't go to a movie without getting in a fight with the guy in the third row who won't shut up.
Filthy streets. Drive-by shootings. Irradiated corn. Permissible amounts of rat-droppings per hot dog. Bomb blasts, and body counts. Terror in the streets, on camera, in your living room. Aids and Ebola and Hepatitis B and you can't touch anyone because you're afraid you'll catch something besides love and nothing tastes as good anymore and Christopher Reeve is [dead] and love is statistically false.
Pocket nukes and subway anthrax. You grow up frustrated, you live confused, you age frightened, you die alone. Safe terrain moves from your city to your block to your yard to your home to your living room to the bedroom and all you want is to be allowed to live without somebody breaking in to steal your tv and shove an ice-pick in your ear.
That sound like a better world to you? That sound to you like a promise kept? ~ J. Michael Straczynski
This would have been Senna's third win a row if he'd won the two before ~ Murray Walker
We want to encourage people. You are not just another kid in the youth group or the lady on the third row. God has a purpose for every life. ~ Mark Hall
R," Elizabeth breathed. "For what? Rheumatism? Retinue? Richard the Third?"
The planchette continued to move, torward the O.
"Romantic? It's going to tell us our husband's name! Or else ... rotund." She paused. "Is it calling us fat?"
W.
"Someone's going to have a row? ~ Alyxandra Harvey
There are several reasons to oppose tax increases. First, every dollar of tax increase is a dollar you didn't get in spending restraint. Two, if you walk into the Democrats' Andrews-Air-Force-Base, Lucy-with-the-Football trick for the third time in a row - they don't have have a saying for being fooled three times! ~ Grover Norquist
I want you to be happy. Eat it."
A wry smile curved Rose's lips. "Am I to find happiness in a piece of chocolate cake?"
Eve already had a forkful en route to her mouth. "I stake my reputation on it."
"Oh," she replied dryly. "Surely heaven is just a bite away."
"Speaking of heaven," Eve said a few minutes later when Rose thought she might expire from the bliss the dessert inspired, "tell me about your evening at Saint's Row."
"Shh!" Her paranoid gaze darted around to see if anyone had overheard, but there was no one standing close enough to their whitewashed bench.
"Don't shush me, Rose Danvers. I'm your best friend and you've kept me waiting four whole days! I demand details."
Cheeks flushed, Rose stared at the half-eaten cake on her plate. Eve's timing might leave something to be desired, but at least she'd stopped Rose from eating the entire slice.
"What do you want to know?"
Eve's expression was incredulous. "Everything, of course." Then, as though realizing who she was talking to, she sighed. "Did you find him?"
Rose nodded. "I did." The fire in her cheeks burned hotter, and she looked away. "Oh, Eve!"
Her friend grabbed her wrist, clattering fork against plate. "That arse didn't hurt you did he?"
"No!" Then lowering her voice, "And he's not an arse." Using such rough language made her feel daring and bold.
The scowl on Eve's face eased. "Then…he was good to you?"
Rose nodded, leaning closer. "It was ~ Kathryn Smith
Archer arrived early the next morning. Grey was still asleep on the sofa in his study when he heard tapping on the window.
He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it as the sharp light of day pierced his brain. Squinting, he tried to focus on his brother, since he already knew who his visitor was. Only one person ever announced himself so annoyingly.
"Open the bloody window, Grey!"
Grumbling, Grey slowly rose into a full sitting position. His back and neck were stiff and his head felt as though someone had kicked it repeatedly from all sides. And his mouth! Christ, he didn't want to even think about what might have died inside it.
He staggered to the window, unlatched it and swung it open. "What the hell do you want?"
Wide-eyed, Archer made a tsking noise. "Is that any way to greet your favorite brother?"
"You're not my favorite," Grey scowled.
Unaffected, Archer easily adapted. "Is that any way to greet your second-favorite brother?"
Grey grinned, he couldn't help it. Archer had always had a knack for making him smile, just as he had a knack for pissing him off as well. "I'm hung over and feel like shite. What do you want?"
"You look like shite. What's this I hear about you making an appearance at Saint's Row last night?"
"Rose tell you that?"
"She did. I'm surprised you took such a risk just to see her."
Grey thought of her in that teal gown, the lights illuminating the luster of her skin. "It was worth it."Kathryn Smith
For the third year in a row, the United States has set a record for winter warmth, federal scientists reported yesterday. With an average temperature of 38.4 degrees Fahrenheit, the three-month period of December 1999 through February 2000 was the warmest winter season in the last 105 years in the contiguous 48 states, the scientists said. That mark slightly surpassed the previous record of 37.8 degrees, set a year ago. ~ William K. Stevens
The Little Drummer Boy was playing in the background for what seemed like the third time in a row. I fought off an urge to beat that Little Drummer Boy seneless with his own drumsticks. ~ Dana Reinhardt
Bear in mind the simple rule, X squared to the power of two minus five over the seven point eight three times nineteen is approximately equal to the cube root of MCC squared divided by X minus a quarter of a third percent. Keep that in mind, and you can't go very far wrong. ~ Eric Idle
He sat at his desk – last seat, last row – and looked at the chart on the wall next to him. Of course there was no gold star next to his name. He had already done three things wrong: First, he had knocked over a girl and made her cry. Second, he was late getting back to class. And third and worst of all, his name was Bradley Chalkers. As long as his name was Bradley Chalker's, he'd never get a gold star. They don't give gold stars to monsters. ~ Louis Sachar
People ask me, "Why don't you call in the blind?" I ask them, "Would you call with Phil Robertson in your blind?"
It's like pinch-hitting for Albert Pujols. It doesn't make sense when you have the best duck caller in the world in your blind. The benefits of not screwing up are better than those of taking a chance on doing something stupid. Believe me: if you mess up, you're going to hear about it. I never will forget when we had about twenty-five mallards almost in the hole. They were on their third pass down when the text message alert on my phone went off. After my phone buzzed, the mallards decided not to come in. Phil looked down the row of guys with a look that was a mixture of craziness, agony, and Satan himself.
"What was that?" he hollered.
Now, there was no way I was gonna fess up.
"I heard something!" Phil yelled again.
I didn't feel like trying to explain to him that there was no way the ducks heard my phone from sixty yards away, so I didn't say a word. I'm glad waterboarding isn't allowed in the blind, because ol' Phil would have filled our faces with water to find the culprit. There is always a lot of pressure to have 100 percent success. If we get four out of six ducks, we'll sit there and debate for the next two hours why we didn't get all six. ~ Willie Robertson
Hate Poem
I hate you truly. Truly I do.
Everything about me hates everything about you.
The flick of my wrist hates you.
The way I hold my pencil hates you.
The sound made by my tiniest bones were they trapped
in the jaws of a moray eel hates you.
Each corpuscle singing in its capillary hates you.
Look out! Fore! I hate you.
The blue-green jewel of sock lint I'm digging
from under by third toenail, left foot, hates you.
The history of this keychain hates you.
My sigh in the background as you explain relational databases
hates you.
The goldfish of my genius hates you.
My aorta hates you. Also my ancestors.
A closed window is both a closed window and an obvious
symbol of how I hate you.
My voice curt as a hairshirt: hate.
My hesitation when you invite me for a drive: hate.
My pleasant "good morning": hate.
You know how when I'm sleepy I nuzzle my head
under your arm? Hate.
The whites of my target-eyes articulate hate. My wit
practices it.
My breasts relaxing in their holster from morning
to night hate you.
Layers of hate, a parfait.
Hours after our latest row, brandishing the sharp glee of hate,
I dissect you cell by cell, so that I might hate each one
individually and at leisure.
My lungs, duplicitous twins, expand with the utter validity
of my hate, which can never have enough of you,
Julie Sheehan
It's terrifying. Women make their first film, their second film, and then it's like a nightmare, right, to make the third or fourth? I mean, it's almost like men can have three films in a row that don't do that well and keep on going. ~ Julie Delpy
The third person. There was no sign of this happiness on the outside, she knew. She was bored by this happiness that seemed out of place, impatient to get rid of it. The feeling was less pleasurable than she had imagined it might have been, less well-defined, and when she felt along its strings she found it was not easily traced or attached to the objects she thought it might have been attached to. Perhaps it was not attached to anything at all. ~ Joanna Walsh
I have friends of mine that are actors or singers, and they're the classic guys where, they're onstage, and they're like, 'Okay, the blonde in the third row, seat 24, bring her to my dressing room.' I've never, never taken advantage of that, I swear to God. ~ Jaime Camil
Because when we think about the real facts: 44 million Americans without health insurance, millions without jobs, a 50-year high on mortgage foreclosures, an historic high the third year in a row on personal bankruptcies. ~ Chaka Fattah
In South Texas I saw three interesting things. The first was a tiny girl, maybe ten years old, driving in a 1965 Cadillac. She wasn't going very fast, because I passed her, but still she was cruising right along, with her head tilted back and her mouth open and her little hands gripping the wheel.
Then I saw an old man walking up the median strip pulling a wooden cross behind him. It was mounted on something like a golf cart with two spoked wheels. I slowed down to read the hand-lettered sign on his chest.
JACKSONVILLE
FLA OR BUST
I had never been to Jacksonville but I knew it was the home of the Gator Bowl and I had heard it was a boom town, taking in an entire county or some such thing. It seemed an odd destination for a religious pilgrim. Penance maybe for some terrible sin, or some bargain he had worked out with God, or maybe just a crazed hiker. I waved and called out to him, wishing him luck, but he was intent on his marching and had no time for idle greetings. His step was brisk and I was convinced he wouldn't bust.
The third interesting thing was a convoy of stake-bed trucks all piled high with loose watermelons and cantaloupes. I was amazed. I couldn't believe that the bottom ones weren't crushed under all that weight, exploding and spraying hazardous melon juice onto the highway. One of nature's tricks with curved surfaces. Topology! I had never made it that far in mathematics and engineering studies, and I knew no ~ Charles Portis
I've got a few ideas," (Amy) admitted. "But I don't know where we're going in the long term. I mean - have you ever thought about what this ultimate treasure could be?"
"Something cool." (Dan)
"Oh, that's real helpful. I mean, what could make somebody the most powerful Cahill in history? And why thirty-nine clues?"
Dan shrugged. "Thirty-nine is a sweet number. It's thirteen times three. It's also the sum of five prime numbers in a row - 3,5,7,11,13. And if you add the first three powers of three, 3 to the first, 3 to the second, and s to the third, you get thirty-nine."
Amy stared at him. "How did you know that?"
"What do you mean? It's obvious. ~ Rick Riordan
Danes express their strongest feelings in conjunction with food. That became clear to me the first time I was out visiting friends with Moritz. When I took a third helping of cookies, he looked straight at me.
"Keep on taking until you're ashamed of yourself," he said.
I wasn't confident about my Danish, but I understood what he meant. I helped myself three more times. Without taking my eyes off him. The room disappeared, the people we were visiting disappeared, I didn't taste the cookies. Only Moritz existed.
"I'm still not ashamed," I said.
I helped myself three more times. Then he grabbed the platter and put it out of my reach. I had won. The first of a long series of small, important victories over him and Danish manners. ~ Peter Hoeg
All of the great mythologies and much of the mythic story-telling of the world are from the male point of view. When I was writing The Hero with a Thousand Faces and wanted to bring female heroes in, I had to go to the fairy tales. These were told by women to children, you know, and you get a different perspective. It was the men who got involved in spinning most of the great myths. The women were too busy; they had too damn much to do to sit around thinking about stories. [...]
In the Odyssey, you'll see three journeys. One is that of Telemachus, the son, going in quest of his father. The second is that of the father, Odysseus, becoming reconciled and related to the female principle in the sense of male-female relationship, rather than the male mastery of the female that was at the center of the Iliad. And the third is of Penelope herself, whose journey is [...] endurance. Out in Nantucket, you see all those cottages with the widow's walk up on the roof: when my husband comes back from the sea. Two journeys through space and one through time. ~ Joseph Campbell
Whatever the reason for enlisting, by 1865 the Union had sworn in 2,128,948 men, approximately one-third of the military-age male population of the northern states, while the Confederacy probably enrolled a little under 1 million men, about four-fifths of its military-age male population. ~ Allen C. Guelzo
As a Western woman in the Middle East, I am often put in a different category. I am sort of like the third sex. I am not treated like a man. I am not treated like a woman. I am just treated like a journalist. That is usually really helpful. ~ Lynsey Addario
It seems disingenuous for the intellectual elite of the first world to dwell on the subject of too many babies being born in the second- and third-world nations while virtually ignoring the over-population of cattle and the realities of a food chain that robs the poor of sustenance to feed the rich a steady diet of grain-fed meat. ~ Jeremy Rifkin
Hello,' I say. My voice sounds high and squeaky. I try a lower register. 'Hello.'
Woah. Too low.
'Hello.' Third time's a charm.
They're already chuckling. I've barely even said anything. High school is the worst. ~ Jessica Brody
It was a very comfortable and personal relationship [Cliff Martinez ].'The Neon Demon'is our third movie and the music has never been as important as for this movie. ~ Nicolas Winding Refn
There is less leisure now than in the Middle Ages, when one third of the year consisted of holidays and festivals. ~ Ralph Borsodi
The Schleswig-Holstein question is so complicated, only three men in Europe understood it. One was Prince Albert, who is dead. The second was a German professor who went mad. I am the third and I have forgotten all about it ~ Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston
Richard Grunberger points out in The Twelve-Year Reich, the Jew served a necessary psychological function. "Just as primitive man's concept of God supposed the existence of the Devil, so the German's progressive self-deification during the Third Reich depended upon the demonization of the Jew. ~ Leonard Gross
