For one moment we are not failed tests and broken condoms and cheating on essays; we are crayons and lunch boxes and swinging so high our sneakers punch holes in the clouds.
Oh, here's a clever one. Do you remember this question from the first test?It reads, 'What wrong with this statement?' And do you know what Constance wrote in reply? She wrote, 'What's wrong with you?
We should always aim to read something different=not only the writers with whom we agree, but those with whom we are ready to do battle. Their point of view challenges us to examine the truth and to test their views...and let us not comment on nor criticize writers of whom we have heard only second-hand, or third-hand without troubling to read their works for ourselves...Don't be afraid of new ideas.
Nothing, of course, will ever take the place of the good old fashion of 'liking' a work of art or not liking it; the more improved criticism will not abolish that primitive, that ultimate, test.
She sits before me, sullen but hopeful, characterless, about to dissolve into tears. I squeeze her hand back, moved, no, touched by her ignorance of evil. She has one more test to pass. Do you own a briefcase?” I ask her, swallowing.
It's as if every conversation with a woman was a test, and men always failed it, because they always lacked the key to the code and so they never quite understood what the conversation was really about.
I cannot believe that the most delicious things were placed here merely to test us, to temp us, to make it the more difficult for us to capture the grand prize: the safety of the void. To fashion of life such a petty game is unworthy of both men and gods.
Friendship is an Algebra test that nobody passes.
Dude, you're such a geek. And that's coming from an overweight Star Trek fan who scored a 5 on the AP Calculus test. So you know your condition is grave
We constantly see surveys that reveal this ignorance, especially among our high school students,78 percent of whom, in a recent nationwide multiple-choice test, identified Abraham Lincoln as 'a kind of lobster.' That's right: more than three quarters of our nation's youth could not correctly identify the man who invented the telephone.
If I died, would it get me out of my geometry test tomorrow? One could only hope.
The problem, of course, was that turning into a monster was the brighter of my two choices. Choice Number 1: I turn into a vampyre, which equals a monster in just about any human’s mind. Choice Number 2: My body rejects the Change and I die. Forever. So the good news is that I wouldn’t have to take the geometry test tomorrow.
Are you okay?" she whispers, giggling. Me? Oh sure. You might have to carry me out of here, though." What happened?" I created a distraction." I gathered that." Step stool, encyclopedias, floor." I see. Well, I can't thank you enough." Sure you can. Help me flunk enough tests, so I drop out of the 'torian range." Can't you just tell Abernethy that you have a reputation as a dumbshit to keep up, and you don't want the attention?" Flunking is more fun.
Cabel smiles and hangs up. "Guess what." What," Janie says. We can go out on our first date." Woo hoo!" And guess what else- You're buying." Me? Why?" Because you lost the bet." Janie thinks for a moment. Punches Cabel in the arm. "You did not fail five quizzes or tests!" I did. I have proof.
Only the following items should be considered to be grave faults: not respecting another's rights; allowing oneself to be paralyzed by fear; feeling guilty; believing that one does not deserve the good or ill that happens in one's life; being a coward. We will love our enemies, but not make alliances with them. They were placed in our path in order to test our sword, and we should, out of respect for them, struggle against them. We will choose our enemies.
They say that “Time assuages” - Time never did assuage - An actual suffering strengthens As Sinews do, with age - Time is a Test of Trouble - But not a Remedy - If such it prove, it prove too There was no Malady
This is a test, isn't it? It's like choosing out of three caskets in a fairy tale. Everyone knows the rules. You never choose the gold shiny one. Or even the quite impressive silver one. What you're supposed to do is choose the dull little lead one, and then there's a flash of light and it turns into a mountain of jewels
Did you ever hear one of those corny, positive messages on someone's answering machine? 'Hi, it's a great day and I'm out enjoying it right now. I hope you are too. The thought for the day is share the love.' Beep. 'Uh, yeah, this is the VD clinic. Speaking of being positive, your test is back. Stop sharing the love.'
You are out of control, Rand al'Thor,' she declared. I do what must be done,' he said, speaking now from the shadows. He sounded exhausted. ... I hate what you just did, Rand,' Nynaeve snarled. 'No, "Hate" isn't strong enough. I loathe what you've done. What has happened to you?' Test him!' Rand whispered, voice dangerous. 'Before condemning me, let us first determine if my sins have achieved anything beyond my own damnation.
While life is meant to test, challenge, and strengthen us, if we are attempting to negotiate the twists and turns and ups and downs of mortality alone, we're doing it all wrong. Mortality is a test, but it is an open book test. We have access not only to the divine text but to Him who authored it.
Life is a test. It is only a test--meaning that's all it is. Nothing more, but nothing less. It is a test of our convictions and priorities, our faith and faithfulness, our patience and resilience, and in the end, our ultimate desires. It is a test to determine if we want to be part of the kingdom of God more than we want anything else.
We tilt our heads back and open wide. The snow drifts into our zombie mouths crawling with grease and curses and tobacco flakes and cavities and boyfriend/girlfriend juice, the stain of lies. For one moment we are not failed tests and broken condoms and cheating on essays; we are crayons and lunch boxes and swinging so high our sneakers punch holes in the clouds. For one breath everything feels better. Then it melts. The bus drivers rev their engines and the ice cloud shatters. Everyone shuffles forward. They don't know what just happened. They can't remember.
Go into yourself and test the deeps in which your life takes rise; at its source you will find the answer to the question whether you must create. Accept it, just as it sounds, without inquiring into it. Perhaps it will turn out that you are called to be an artist. Then take that destiny upon yourself and bear it, its burden and its greatness, without ever asking what reward might come from outside
Man, he wasn't going to need a stress test anytime soon. If his heart could get through a kiss from her, he could probably run a marathon. While dragging a car behind him. Sideways to the road.
If by 'miracle kids' you mean innocent test-tube babies whose DNA was forcibly unraveled and merged with two percent avian genes, yeah, I guess that would be us," I said. "Because it's a miracle that we're not complete nut jobs and mutant disasters.
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