Let's scope the place out," he suggested, heading around the side of the building, "and be careful in the bushes." "Why?" Amy asked. "This is South Africa, dude," Dan replied. "Where cobras come from. And not the hot ones, like Ian.
C'mon, Amy, cinnamon rolls are calling us." Dan put a hand to his ear. "Do you hear? 'Amy? Dan?'" he squeaked. "'Come and get my sugary, sticky goodness!
Rock star do not jump!" The launch was cutting sharply, its skipper calling out a phrase that bore no relationship to the English language as Amy knew it. "Rock star in a hurry!" Nellie replied, one foot on the boat's gunwale.
We are not asked to SEE," said Amy. "Why need we when we KNOW?" We know--not the answer to the inevitable Why, but the incontestable fact that it is for the best. "It is an irreparable loss, but is it faith at all if it is 'hard to trust' when things are entirely bewildering?
[Amy Carmichael's] great longing was to have a "single eye" for the glory of God. Whatever might blur the vision God had give her of His work, whatever could distract or deceive or tempt other to seek anything but the Lord Jesus Himself she tried to eliminate.
Amy adored both the new look and the new person it allowed her to be. Following the photo shoot, she wore her bruises to the dry cleaner and the grocery store. Most people nervously looked away, but on the rare occasions someone would ask what happened, my sister would smile as brightly as possible, saying, 'I'm in love. Can you believe it? I'm finally, totally in love, and I feel great.
The last words he said to me when I bade him good-night were: Tell Amy it's no good coming after me. Anyhow, I shall change my hotel, so she wouldn't be able to find me.' My own impression is that she's well rid of you,' I said. My dear fellow, I only hope you'll be able to make her see it. But women are very unintelligent.
Because they are mean is no reason why I should be. I hate such things, and though I think I've a right to be hurt, I don't intend to show it. (Amy March)
So Uncle Stuart is marrying that lady? Mom says she's going to be our aunt Amy. She's okay except she would't try any peanut butter M&M chocolate chip fudge cookies. They were good- you ate five, remember? But she said she was on a special diet, and couldn't eat something called carbs. We told her we didn't put any carbs in our cookies, just M&Ms, but she said M&Ms were carbs. Uncle Mitch, what's carbs? Email to Uncle Mitch from Haily and Brittany.
Amy Rapp, my producing partner, and I are drawn to character-driven material. We're developing and producing movies and TV, fiction and non-fiction, studio and independent, broadcast and cable, theatre, and web so our slate is really diverse.
I didn't know Kurt Cobain or Amy Winehouse, but I was affected by both of their deaths because I admired their work so much and mourned their youth and work they would never produce.
Some of these actresses or public personas who are very public about their disciplined diets, more power to them. I just don't see the point. Do you know, the people I love as actresses, I've never, ever sought out pictures of them to see what they look like in a swimsuit.
I wanted it to be like Amy Grant, but it didn't pan out that way. My label actually went bankrupt, and I was left without a home.
If you take my stuff apart, you'll find my choruses of repetitions are picked up almost verbatim from Kurt Vonnegut, and my distanced fracture quality is all from Amy Hempel, who's probably my favourite writer.
I have making a new film called Story of Your Life, directed by Denis Villeneuve, with Amy Adams and Jeremy Renner and Forest Whitaker. Which is about aliens coming to the earth and observing us and us trying to find a way to communicate with them.
Amy, Dan, and Nellie were sitting at a table in a conference room, examining reproductions of Franklin documents-some so rare, the librarians told her, the only copies existed in Paris. "Yeah, here's a rare grocery list," Dan muttered. "Wow.
Sitting next to her, Amy was wide-eyed, mesmerized at the sight of Jack heading over in all his seemingly pissed-off-once-again glory. "I changed my mind, Cam. If this was all a big setup and he's coming over to strip for me, I think I can handle it. I definitely can handle it.
Here's the deal. I get to marry you. You get to become a Garrett - although, considering what you're marrying into, I'm not certain that's much of an incentive." Dallas to Amy
Before she became the Girl from Nowhere-the One Who Walked In, the First and Last and Only, who lived a thousand years-she was just a little girl in Iowa, named Amy. Amy Harper Bellafonte.
Hey, Amy, did you ever want to, like, get on the conveyor belt and see what happened? Like,'Hey don't mind me, I'm just hanging with cargo'?
No theory ever benefited by the application of data, Amy. Data kills theories. A theory has no better time than when it's lying there naked, pure, unsullied by facts. Let's just keep it that way for a while." "So you don't really have a theory?" "Clueless." "You lying bag of fish heads." "I can fire you, you know. Even if Clay was the one that hired you, I'm not totally superfluous to this operation yet. I'm kind of in charge. I can fire you. Then how will you live?" "I'm not getting paid." "See, right there. Perfectly good concept ruined by the application of fact.
Purple light passed over the paper, but nothing happened. "Next!" Amy said. She was sure the man in black was going to burst in on them any second. "Whoa!" Dan said. Amy gripped his arm. "You found it?" "No, but look! This whole essay - 'To the Royal Academy.' He wrote a whole essay on farts!" Dan grinned with delight. "He's proposing a scientific study on different fart smells. You're right, Amy. This guy was a genius!
It's about average for us. Behavior always draws more than survey. We're the sexy ones,' Nate said with a grin. Amy snorted. 'Oh, yeah, you guys are the Mae Wests of the nerd world.' We're action nerds,' Nate said. 'Adventure nerds. Nerds of romance.
Jo began to dance a jig,...Amy nearly fell out of the window in her surprise, and Meg exclaimed, with uplifted hands, 'Well I do believe the world is coming to an end!
BEAUTIFUL is stark, disquieting and, quite simply, riveting. Amy Reed is an author to keep on your radar.
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