Luke associates John with Peter in Acts, when, after the Resurrection, that strange boldness had come upon the disciples.
I was on a walking tour of Oxford colleges once with a group of bored and unimpressable tourists. They yawned at Balliol's quad, T.E. Lawrence's and Churchill's portraits, and the blackboard Einstein wrote his E=mc2 on. Then the tour guide said, 'And this is the Bridge of Sighs, where Lord Peter proposed (in Latin) to Harriet,' and everyone suddenly came to life and began snapping pictures. Such is the power of books.
If Peter was nine, and a new boy came to St. Norbert’s Home for Wayward Boys who said he was ten, why, then, Peter would declare himself eleven. Also, he could spit the farthest. That made him the undisputed leader.
That is the Wasp, yes. But it was captured by Black Stache, and he’s coming for this ship now.” “And how do you know that?” asked Slank. “Did a seagull tell you?” This brought chuckles from the crew. Something like that, thought Peter.
You and Teacher,” said Molly. “Yes,” said Peter. “She’s very clever. You’ll like her.” “I’m sure,” said Molly.
She wanted to cry, but she did not want Peter to see her cry, and she especially did not want Teacher, with her flowing hair, to see her cry.
[Peter] testified to [the Jews in Acts 2] that Jesus Christ was the Son of God, the Judge of the living and dead, into whom he did also command them to be baptized for the remission of sins.
Nic's going to be an old maid," Michael said, giggling. "What?" she snapped. "How do you even know what that means? You're like, four years old." "Mommy said it," Michael answered. Bernie coughed, nearly choking on her food as Peter and Xavier laughed into their napkins.
Here comes Peter Cottontail right down the bunny trail.
Wow,” I said. “Are you making this up?” “Hazel Grace, could I, with my meager intellectual capacities, make up a letter from Peter Van Houten featuring phrases like ‘our triumphantly digitized contemporaneity’?” “You could not,” I allowed. “Can I, can I have the email address?” “Of course,” Augustus said, like it was not the best gift ever.
I'll show you how," Peter said. "Stop hiding behind your ignorance.
A moment after the fairy's entrance the window was blown open by the breathing of the little stars, and Peter dropped in.
What do--" Tobias's voice. Tobias! "Oh my God. Oh--" "Spare me your blubbering, okay? Peter says. "She's not dead; she's just paralyzed. It'll only last for about a minute. Now get ready to run." I don't understand. How does Peter know? "Let me carry her," Tobias says. "No. You're a better shot than I am. Take my gun. I'll carry her.
I even think the commercial element of new American directors is really fertile right now. There are a lot of filmmakers with very particular visions, like Sofia Coppola and Wes Anderson and P.T. Anderson and Alexander Payne and Peter Sollett and Harmony Korine and Vincent Gallo. At least they're making films that they choose to make, and they're on their own. That's positive to me. This is not a dead period for American cinema at all.
But anyone can write, right?'" Conner asked. "I mean, that's why authors get judged so harshly, isn't it? Because technically everyone could do it if they wanted to." "Just because anyone can do something doesn't mean everyone should," Mrs. Peters said. "Besides, anyone with an Internet connection feels they have the credentials to critique or belittle anything these days.
Peter would probably throw a party if I stopped breathing.' 'Well,' he says, 'I would only go if there was cake.
It was heaven. Forget angels, forget St. Peter and glittering harpsichords. Heaven was a dance in the arms of one's true love.
Peter: Where are you two going? Tris: Why aren't you with your attack group eating dinner? Peter: I don't have one. I'm injured. Christina: Yeah right, you are! Peter: Well, I don't want to go to battle with a bunch of factionless. So I'm going to stay here. Christina: Like a coward. Let everyone else clean up the mess for you. Peter: Yep! Have fun dying.
Peter leans forward and looks into my eyes. "The serum will go into effect in one minute," he says. "Be brave, Tris." My heart begins to race. Why would Peter tell me to be brave? Why would he offer any kind words at all?
I try to catch my breath and calm myself down, but it isn't easy. I was dead. I was dead, and then i wasn't, and why? Because of Peter? Peter? I stare at him. He still looks so innocent, despite all that he has done to prove that he is not. His hair lies smooth against his head, shiny and dark, like we didn't just run for a mile at full speed. His round eyes scan the stairwell and then rest on my face. "What?" he says. "Why are you looking at me like that?" " How did you do it?" I say.
Our whole family thrives under pressure. It's like our family motto or something. Apart from my brother Peter, of course. He had a nervous break down. But the rest of us.
She died on a windy gray day in March when the sky was full of darting crows and the world lay prostrate and defeated after winter. Peter Lake was at her side and it ruined him forever. It broke him as he had not ever imagined he could have been broken. He would never again be young, or able to remember what it was like to be young. What he had once taken to be pleasures would appear to him in his defeat as hideous and deserved punishments for reckless vanity.
I smirk as Peter misses again. I can't help myself. "Hey, Peter," I say, " Remember what a target is?
But the years came and went without bringing the careless boy; and when they met again Wendy was a married woman, and Peter was no more to her than a little dust in the box in which she had kept her toys.
Peter was the only one who walked on water besides Jesus, but he was also the only one who got out of the boat. Until you make a decision to believe, and then act on it, nothing will happen.
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