Bob Morton: How does he eat? Roosevelt: His digestive system is extremely simple. This processor dispenses a rudimentary paste that sustains his organic systems. Johnson: [Roosevelt dispenses the paste into a cup and hands it to Johnson] Tastes like ...
It is interesting that Jesus encounters a person, personally, forgives him, transforms him adds Him into the Church - the Body of Christ, However today, Church is getting the other way around, she is raising up a believer in Church, feeding the cup o...
Choosing the best option might show our smartness but Choosing the Right option would show our Goodness., There, indeed, is a difference between being WISE and being NICE, and its now, it's our turn to decide- if it is smart enough to choose a right ...
Cut off from the land that bore us, Betrayed by the land we find, Where the brightest have gone before us, And the dullest are most behind - Stand, stand to your glasses, steady! 'T is all we have left to prize: One cup to the dead already - Hurrah f...
Interestingly, the actress who, in her own persona, may be gentle, shy, and socially awkward, someone whose hand trembles when pouring a cup of tea for a visiting friend, can convincingly portray an elegant, cruel aristocrat tossing off malicious epi...
There, alone in the sterile room, sitting on a pink vinyl chair that boasts many cracks in its once nice upholster, you wait. You think to yourself , who would have thought I would be ringing in the New Year by urinating into a cup to see if I have c...
He cups my face with both hands leans in, eyes lingering a sweet second before his lips are there on mine, teasing, playing, tasting, kissing. When he pulls away, I'm breathless. He nuzzles my ear. "Now that's thrilling." You got that right.
I had two cups of coffee, put Eric's jeans in the washer, read a romance for awhile, and studied my brand-new Word of the Day calendar, a Christmas gift from Arlene. My first word of the New Year was 'exsanguinate.' This was probably not a good omen.
There is no such thing as a people who are all wicked or even all good. Everyone chooses. But even they, even they looked at people and saw only tools. No one is a cup for another to drink from.
In a tired time, with the light outside drifting away for another day and the lights inside flickering as they come to life, I cup my hands together and prepare to give thanks ... to the life of a day given to me. A day shared with past and present, ...
What was a kiss without a kiss?" It was a tablecloth tugged from beneath a party service, everything jumbled against everything else in just a few chaotic moments. Fingers in hair. Hands cupping necks. Mouths dragged on cheeks and chins in dangerous ...
I brought you some coffee.” he held out the cup but she waved it away. “I hate that stuff. It tastes like feet.” At that he smiled. “How would you know what feet taste like?” “I just know.” -Luke and Clary, pg.209-
researchers discovered that people who have just consumed caffeinated drinks were more likely to be swayed by arguments about various controversial topics.55 In short, good evidence that there really is no such thing as a free lunch or an innocent cu...
If you put a spoonful of salt in a cup of water it tastes very salty. If you put a spoonful of salt in a lake of fresh water the taste is still pure and clear. Peace comes when our hearts are open like the sky, vast as the ocean.
I always wear an oven mitt when I go in for a handshake, because I like to give visual hints about what kind of lover I’d make. I don’t use a cup to drink coffee—I use a flowerpot.
I stood under the umbrella for hours before I folded it up and started walking. Umbrellas can block the sun, shield the rain, and if you flip an open one over, it can also be used as a large coffee cup.
On the delivery plate of the Nutri-Matic Drink Synthesizer was a small tray, on which say three bone china cups and saucers, a bone china jug of milk, a silver teapot full of the best tea Arthur had ever tasted and a small printed note saying "Wait.
Biting a plump bottom lip, I stare into endless irises open and poised over my own. Sliding my hand up her thigh, under her gown, I pull her closer with the hand cupping her hipbone, releasing the growl of a king caught in delight.
Some primal force roared inside him, his possessive streak taking charge. He cupped the back of her head, her hair falling over the back of his hand like silk, and tightened his grip. The moment she softened against him, he took control.
She stood by the tea-table in a light-coloured muslin gown, which had a good deal of pink about it. She looked as if she was not attending to the conversation, but solely busy with the tea-cups, among which her round ivory hands moved with pretty, no...
She probably gave up and started playing Minesweeper." [...] We reached the cafe and found Sydney bent over her laptop, with a barely eaten Danish and what was probably her fourth cup of coffee. We slid into seats beside her. "How's it—hey! You ARE...
