You have a steady fella?” Sam asked after a bit. “No fella can hold me for long.” Sam gave her a sideways glance. “That a challenge?” “No. A statement of fact.
[Piper] rushed to get dressed. By the time she got up on deck, the others had already gathered—all hastily dressed except for Coach Hedge, who had pulled the night watch. Frank’s Vancouver Winter Olympics shirt was inside out. Percy wore pajama pants and a bronze breastplate, which was an interesting fashion statement. Hazel’s hair was all blown to one side as though she’d walked through a cyclone; and Leo had accidentally set himself on fire. His T-shirt was in charred tatters. His arms were smoking.
I tilted my chin up a fraction. "You can't f-force me to stay here." I'd only agreed to come this far because I didn't want to stand out in the downpour, for one, and I had high hopes of finding a phone, for two. "That sounded more like a question than a statement," said Patch. "Then ans-s-swer it." His rogue smile crept out. "It's hard to concentrate on answers with you looking like that." I glanced down at Patch's black shirt, wet and clinging to my body. I brushed past him and shut the bathroom door between us.
Unlike statements of fact, which require no further work on our part, lies must be continually protected from collisions with reality.
Thomas had a depressing - and scary - thought. 'Am I . . . replacing someone? Did somebody get killed?' Minho shook his head. 'No, we're just training you - someone'll want a break. Don't worry, it's been a while since a Runner was killed.' For some reason that last statement worried Thomas, though he hoped it didn't show on his face.
One of the greatest advantages of the totalitarian elites of the twenties and thirties was to turn any statement of fact into a question of motive.
His statement to himself should have been, 'I possess this now, therefore I am happy', instead of what it so Victorianly was: "I cannot possess this for ever, and therefore am sad."
As Marcus considered various ways to open the subject of Daisy, Swift surprised him with a blunt statement. “My lord, there is something I would like to discuss with you.” Marcus adopted a pleasantly encouraging expression. “Very well.” “It turns out that Miss Bowman and I have reached an…understanding. After considering the logical advantages on both sides, I have made a sensible and pragmatic decision that we should—” “How long have you been in love with her?” Marcus interrupted, inwardly amused. Swift let out a tense sigh. “Years,” he admitted.
Your mission statement says Galer Street is based on global "connectitude." (You people don't just think outside the box, you think outside the dictionary!)
Adrian sifted through the bags and pulled out a slice of coconut cream. "If I were a dragon, this is what I'd go for." I didn't argue, mainly because that statement had no logical argument.
The criminal misuse of time was pointing out the mistakes. Catching them―noticing them―that was essential. If you did not in your own mind distinguish between useful and erroneous information, then you were not learning at all, you were merely replacing ignorance with false belief, which was no improvement. The part of the man's statement that was true, however, was about the uselessness of speaking up. If I know that the teacher is wrong, and say nothing, then I remain the only one who knows, and that gives me an advantage over those who believe the teacher.
That," he whispered, "is unthinkable." In Mosca’s experience, such statements generally meant that a thing was perfectly thinkable, but that the speaker did not want to think it.
There was nothing particularly intimate about the way they sat, but something about the scene made Gansey feel strange, like he’d heard an unpleasant statement and later forgotten everything about the words but the way they had made him feel.
Because there’s a clock attached to every beautiful woman. From the second she comes into her own, she begins to decline, because she begins to age. Aging is every beautiful woman’s kryptonite. And so, yes, it’s ridiculous and no, you don’t have much time and of course it’s not fair. Those three statements are the essence of beauty.
I watched as Humphrey Bogart’s character used beans as a metaphor for the relative unimportance in the wider world of his relationship with Ingrid Bergman’s character, and chose logic and decency ahead of his selfish emotional desires. The quandary and resulting decision made for an engrossing film. But this was not what people cried about. They were in love and could not be together. I repeated this statement to myself, trying to force an emotional reaction. I couldn’t. I didn’t care. I had enough problems of my own.
Gene told me the next day that I got it wrong. But he was not in a taxi, after an evening of total sensory overload, with the most beautiful woman in the world. I believed I did well. I detected the trick question. I wanted Rosie to like me, and I remembered her passionate statement about men treating women as objects. She was testing to see if I saw her as an object or as a person. Obviously the correct answer was the latter. ‘I haven’t really noticed,’ I told the most beautiful woman in the world.
You can live without me." "I don't want to." I feared a love like this - that made us incomplete without each other. It was beautiful but treacherous, like snow that looked white and pure and lovely from the safety of your window, but when you stepped out to touch the softness, the cold first stole your breath, and then your will to move, until you could just lay down in it and let the numbness take you. yet I didn't want to be without him either, so I didn't chide him for the statement.
When I was young I was amazed at Plutarch's statement that the elder Cato began at the age of eighty to learn Greek. I am amazed no longer. Old age is ready to undertake tasks that youth shirked because they would take too long.
An affirmation is a strong, positive statement that something is already so.
To ensure that your work is also a play, I recommend that you develop a personal mission statement. This will help you find what it is to enjoy so much that you lose track of time when you're doing it.
It is often wonderful how putting down on paper a clear statement of a case helps one to see, not perhaps the way out, but the way in.
One comes to believe whatever one repeats to oneself sufficiently often, whether the statement be true of false. It comes to be the dominating thought in one's mind.
I already feel that I am making a political statement by sticking around in music, when I am doing it so differently to everyone else.
A poet must never make a statement simply because it is sounds poetically exciting; he must also believe it to be true.
A politician thinks of the next election; a statement of the next generation. A politician looks for the success of his party; a statesman for that of his country. The statesman wishes to steer, while the politician is satisfied to drift.
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