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Quote by Yuto Tsukuda

“The skills she has chosen to hone are presentation and charm! Having traveled around the world experiencing so many cultures... she's learned that, at times, it's necessary to change up a dish's presentation... so that, for example, those not accustomed to cuisine such as Japanese... ... will still recognize its deliciousness by its presentation. "There." "Wooow! In a matter of seconds, that entire juicy tenderloin roast... ... has been transformed into a lovely, giant peony blossom! How beautiful! The gleam of the meat is like dew on petals... ... boosting the attractiveness of the dish two- no, threefold!" It's a refined expression of Megumi Tadokoro's hospitality. Her dishes will shine in the spotlight of this year's BLUE, I'm sure.”

Quote by Yuto Tsukuda

Book:食戟のソーマ 34 [Shokugeki no Souma 34]
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食戟のソーマ 34 [Shokugeki no Souma 34]

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Yuto Tsukuda

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“...критично оцінювати кількісні аргументи можна навіть без фахових знань зі статистики, економетрії чи аналізу даних, а щоб виявляти маячню, не конче потрібні масиви даних та тижні роботи. Часто для цього досить базової логіки...”

Life Quotes
Book:Феєрична фігня!: Високе мистецтво скепсису у світі повної маячні
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“Seventeen more days,” Jessi breathed wonderingly. “God, you must be climbing the . . . er, walls . . . or whatever’s in there, huh?” “Aye.” “So, just what is in there, anyway?” She tested the glass by shaking it gently, and deemed it secure enough. It shouldn’t slide now. “Stone,” he said flatly. “And what else?” “Stone. Gray. Of varying sizes.” His voice dropped to a colorless monotone. “Fifty-two thousand nine hundred and eighty-seven stones. Twenty-seven thousand two hundred and sixteen of them are a slightly paler gray than the rest. Thirty-six thousand and four are more rectangular than square. There are nine hundred and eighteen that have a vaguely hexagonal shape. Ninety-two of them have a vein of bronze running through the face. Three are cracked. Two paces from the center is a stone that protrudes slightly above the rest, over which I tripped for the first few centuries. Any other questions?” Jessi flinched as his words impacted her, taking her breath away. Her chest and throat felt suddenly tight. Uh, yeah, like, how did you stay sane in there? What kept you from going stark raving mad? How did you survive over a thousand years in such a hell? She didn’t ask because it would have been like asking a mountain why it was still standing, as it had been since the dawn of time, perhaps reshaped in subtle ways, but there, always there. Barring cataclysmic planetary upheaval, forever there. The man was strong—not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. A rock of a man, the kind a woman could lean on through the worst of times and never have to worry that things might fall apart, because a man like him simply wouldn’t let them.”

Karen Marie MoningCianSpell Of The HighlanderJessi
Book:Spell of the Highlander
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“Nope,” she managed. “No other questions.” Eleven centuries of captivity. Hung on his hated enemy’s study wall. Eleven centuries of not touching. Not eating. Not loving. Had he had anyone to talk to? Her face must have betrayed her thoughts, for he startled her by saying softly, “ ’Tis no longer of consequence, lass, but thank you for the compassion. ’Tis nigh over. Seventeen more days, Jessica. That’s all.” For some reason his words brought a sudden hot burn of tears to the backs of her eyes. Not only hadn’t eleven centuries turned him into a monster, he was trying to soothe her, to make her feel better about his imprisonment. “You weep for me, woman?” She turned away. “It’s been a long day. Hell, it’s been a long week.” “Jessica.” Her name was a soft command. She disobeyed it, staring out the window at the rolling hills. “Jessica, look at me.” Eyes bright with unshed tears, she whipped her head around and glared at him. “I weep for you, okay?” she snapped. “For eleven centuries stuck in there. Can I start driving again or do you need something else?” He smiled faintly, raised his hand, and splayed his palm against the inside of the silvery glass. Without an ounce of conscious thought, her hand rose to meet his, aligning on the cool silver, palm to palm, finger to finger, thumb to thumb. And though she felt only a cold hardness beneath her palm, the gesture made something go all warm and soft in her heart. Neither of them spoke or moved for a moment.”

Karen Marie MoningCianSpell Of The HighlanderJessi
Book:Spell of the Highlander
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