One of the ideas that was developed at MIT in a workshop was, imagine this pipe, and you've got valves, solenoid valves, taps, opening and closing. You create like a water curtain with pixels made of water. If those pixels fall, you can write on it: ...
We do not need them. They would hinder rather than help our praise. Sing unto him. This is the sweetest and best music. No instrument like the human voice. What a degradation to supplant the intelligent song of the whole congregation by the theatrica...
[Dory is trying to read the pipe that says "Sydney Water Treatment"] Dory: Si... side... syd... nay... Sydney! [she hears a "P. Sherman 42 Wallaby Way Sydney" flashback in her head, and sees a rapid succession of memories from earlier in the film] Do...
Writers who think THEY are being criticized when only that writing is being criticized are beyond a teacher's reach. Writing can only be learned when a writer coldly separates himself from what he has written and looks at it with the objectivity of a...
Then a hundred sad voices lifted a wail, And a hundred glad voices piped on the gale: 'Time is short, life is short,' they took up the tale: 'Life is sweet, love is sweet, use to-day while you may; Love is sweet, and to-morrow may fail; Love is sweet...
Dim loneliness came imperceivably into the fields and he turned back. The birds piped oddly; some wind was caressing the higher foliage, turning it all one way, the way home. Telegraph poles ahead looked like half-used pencils; the small cross on the...
It's barely changed since the faceless colour committee originally selected it in 1908 when the first map of the Underground was designed and the Bakerloo conclusively became brown, a very early twentieth-century brown, which brings something of the ...
As we reached the wooded hill that led to the pipe, Cheater said, "Uh-oh." "What's wrong?" I asked. "Is anyone here thinking about kicking the crap out of me?" he asked. "Not me," I said. "Me either," Lucky said. "Maybe tomorrow," Flinch told him. "B...
Back in the 1930s, when men with handlebar moustaches played football in long johns and tails, and the ball was a spherical clod of bitumen, did fans weep in the stands when their team lost? No. They limited their responses to a muttered 'blast' or a...
I'm not absolutely certain of my facts, but I rather fancy it's Shakespeare -- or, if not, it's some equally brainy lad -- who says that it's always just when a chappie is feeling particularly top-hole, and more than usually braced with things in gen...
Do women in love feel as men do? Do men love as women love? His virgin bride shared her pipe-frame bed all smiles and laughter. When they were intimate to the last degree on that bed, did Lou's experience join his, did his experience match hers, duri...
Festus just detected a large group of eagles behind us—long-range radar, still not in sight.” Piper leaned over the console. “Are you sure they’re Roman?” Leo rolled his eyes. “No, Pipes. It could be a random group of giant eagles flying ...
You don't fix a man the way you do a fault in a pipe or a leak in a roof. You take him as he is, Mary Brenna, or you don't take him at all...adjustments can't be all made on one side, darling, else the balance goes off and what's being built just fal...
[after hearing "The Introduction to Poetry"] John Keating: Excrement! That's what I think of Mr. J. Evans Pritchard! We're not laying pipe! We're talking about poetry. How can you describe poetry like American Bandstand? "I like Byron, I give him a 4...
Harry: [narrating] Anyway, by now you may wonder how I wound up here. Or, maybe not. Maybe you wonder how silly putty picks shit up from comic books. The point is, I don't see another Goddamn narrator, so pipe down.
Scuttle: [breathlessly] I was flyin', I of course I was flyin' and I saw that the watch the witch, was watchin' in a mirror and she was singin' with a stolen set of pipes. Do you hear what I'm tellin' you? [picks up Sebastian and slams him down on ev...
Mrs. Gloop: He's gone! He'll be made into marshmallows in five seconds. Willy Wonka: Impossible, my dear lady! That's absurd! Unthinkable! Mrs. Gloop: Why? Willy Wonka: Because that pipe doesn't go to the marshmallow room, it goes to the fudge room! ...
Il (Georges Perros) arrivait le mardi matin, ébouriffé de vent et de froid sur sa moto bleue et rouillée. Voûté, dans un caban marine, la pipe à la bouche ou dans sa main. Il vidait une sacoche de livres sur la table. Et c’était la vie.
But the person who stepped out of the front door was tall and thin, with short, spiky dark hair. he was wearing a gold mesh vest and a pair of silk pajama pants. He regarded Clary with mild interest, puffing gently on a fantastically large pipe as he...
Well, well, well. Tickle my Elmo ass silly. I was sitting across from a person who enjoyed talking to dead people, and if they wouldn’t talk, then by God, he’d just wake their corpses up instead. Next to him was a moody, chain-smoking vampire who...
I do, 'Merama,' Deven piped up. 'I know exactly what she means. We need to send them love and see them coming home in our mind. If we wish and believe we can be together again.' 'Yas!' said Zahra strongly. 'Young one has knowing. You must that do!
