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Quote by Buckshot

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Buckshot
Buckshot

Buckshot, born Darryl A. Brown, is an American rapper, born in November 1974. He is a member of the renowned hip-hop group The Fugees and achieved great success in the mid-1990s. Buckshot is known for his unique rap style and profound lyrical content, becoming an important figure in American hip-hop music from the late 1990s to the early 21st century. more

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“The most essential prediction of Darwinism is that, given an astronomical number of chances, unintelligent processes can make seemingly-designed systems, ones of the complexity of those found in the cell. ID specifically denies this, predicting that in the absence of intelligent input no such systems would develop. So Darwinism and ID make clear, opposite predictions of what we should find when we examine genetic results from a stupendous number of organisms that are under relentless pressure from natural selection. The recent genetic results are a stringent test. The results: 1) Darwinism’s prediction is falsified; 2) Design’s prediction is confirmed.”

ScienceChanceEvolutionBiologyPredictionsNatural SelectionNaturalismDarwinismIntelligent DesignIdMacroevolutionMacro Evolution
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“He said nothing. Juliana peeped at him again. “You’re very anxious to get her in your power again, Vidal. But I don’t quite know why you should be, for you meant to marry her only because you had ruined her, and so were obliged to, didn’t you?” She thought that he was not going to answer, but suddenly he raised his eyes from the contemplation of the dregs of his wine. “Because I am obliged to?” he said. “I mean to marry Mary Challoner because I’m devilish sure I can’t live without her.” Juliana clapped her hands with a crow of delight. “Oh, it is famous!” she exclaimed. “I never dreamed you had fallen in love with my staid Mary! I thought you were chasing her through France just because you so hate to be crossed! But when you flew into a rage with me for saying she was too dull to be afraid of you, of course, I guessed at once! My dearest Dominic, I was never more glad of anything in my life, and it is of all things the most romantic possible! Do, do let us overtake them at once! Only conceive of their astonishment when they see us!”

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“The warm wool blanket dropped to the floor, and Lydia set her hand in the earl’s firm grip. She stuck her foot outside, but awareness wasn’t with her. That cavernous black doorway claimed her attention, and therein was her problem. Trouble came in mere seconds, as it usually did for her. The step was slick. She slipped. The sole of her leather shoe slid off the step’s edge. “Oww!” she yelped as her foot banged the graveled drive hard. Legs buckling, down she went, like a graceless sack of flour. What’s worse, she slammed into the earl, her shoulder punching his midsection. “Ooomph!” Lord Sanford grunted but moved quickly to save her from falling all the way to the ground. Her face mashed against leather and linen. Strong hands held her arms. At least she didn’t knock the earl down. Grabbing for purchase, her fingers touched warm wool…buttons…skin. Her face pressed into fabric, she murmured, “I’m so very sorry.” Lydia tried to right herself, but relief turned to horror: she was a mortified eye level with the pewter buttons of Lord Sanford’s breeches. Stalwart English mist snapped sense into her. That and seeing his placket bunched low in her fist. Her fingers grazed smooth flesh. Another, more interesting sliver of Lord Sanford’s skin was exposed: pale, intimate skin just below his navel. Lydia yanked back her hand, and a pewter button went flying. “Oh no!” she cried as humiliating heat flared across her face and neck. “Miss Montgomery? Are you injured?” Lord Sanford asked above the wind, slowly lifting her up. He sounded unperturbed at having a woman’s hand on the front of his breeches. hands on the front of his breeches.”

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“Here's the "explorer" paragraph: Lydia swayed into him, her back arching, but his hands caught her. His warm hand splayed wide against her upper back. The other ventured lower, massaging circles, lower, lower. Edwards’s hands, like his kisses, belonged to an explorer, not a ruthless conqueror. Testing and checking, his firm but gentle caresses enticed her into his web of curiosity and question. His kisses, his touch were not the rehearsed moves of a long-practiced rake, but genuine affection and sensuality braided into an explosive mix that promised to incinerate them on the spot if they didn’t stop.”

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