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John Thibault

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“Over the years of grassroots advocacy, I have learned: People want help, but they don’t want structure. People want leadership, but they resent authority. People want information, but they don’t understand it. People want strategy, but they panic when shown the reality. Most groups have at least one person who wants the glory, not the change. Most groups have a lot of sheep wandering without a true shepherd. This is why so many initiatives fail. Remember, chaos is what killed the dinosaurs.”

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Book:The Spirit of Sedona By San Dan Yi: 13 Month Engagement Planner and Journal
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“Cam reached for her left hand. Taking the signet ring between his fingers, he drew it off easily and gave it to her. “Here. Although I’d rather you left it on.” Amelia’s mouth fell open. She examined her hand, then the ring, and hesitantly pushed it back on the same finger. It slid over her knuckle and back again with ease. “How did you do that?” “I helped you to relax.” He ran a coaxing hand along her spine. “Put it back on, Amelia.” “I can’t. That would mean I’ve accepted your proposal, and I haven’t.” Stretching like a cat, Cam rolled her flat again, his weight partially supported on his elbows. Amelia drew in a quick breath as she felt him still firm within her. “You can’t lie with me twice and then refuse to marry me.” Cam lowered his head to kiss her ear. “I’ll be ruined.” He worked his way to the soft place behind her earlobe. “And I’ll feel so cheap.” Despite the seriousness of the matter, Amelia had to bite back a smile. “I’m doing you a great favor by refusing you. You’ll thank me for it someday.” “I’ll thank you right now if you’ll put the damned ring back on.” She shook her head. Cam pushed a bit farther inside her, making her gasp. “What about my personal endowments? Who’s going to take care of them?” “You can take care of them”— she squirmed to the side to set the ring on the bedside table—“ all by yourself.” Cam moved with her obligingly. “It’s much more satisfying when you’re involved.” As he reached to retrieve the ring, his body shifted higher in hers. She tensed in surprise. He felt harder inside her, thicker, his desire gaining new momentum. “Cam,” she protested, glancing at the closed door. She grabbed for his wrist, trying to keep his hand away from the ring. He grappled with her playfully, turning until they had completed a full revolution across the mattress and she was under him again. He was rampantly aroused now, teasing her with slow lunges. Twisting beneath him, Amelia pushed at his dark head as he began to kiss her breasts. “But … we just finished…” Cam lifted his head. “Roma,” he said, as if by way of explanation, and settled back over her.”

HahaRomaRingCam And Amelia
Book:Mine Till Midnight
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“Roma è sovrastata da un cielo livido di temporale, che lascia qua e là dei varchi per far passare enormi fasci luminosi creando una luce artificiale che pennella i palazzi di oro sgargiante. Una vecchia baldracca imbellettata, ecco quello che è questa città: una puttana a fine carriera, ancora bellissima se la guardi di sera alla luce fioca delle candele, ma rivoltante se te la trovi di fianco al mattino, senza trucco e senza voglia. Ma proprio per questo si prende il lusso di sbatterti fuori a calci, per piangere da sola davanti allo specchio. [Emilia Bianchetti, Tramonti d'occidente, p.12]”

Roma
Author:Emilia Bianchetti
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“Cedo le armi. L'idea di Roma come spazio franco e rifugio di banditi: ecco qualcosa di affine. C'è qualcosa di antico nell'immagine del fuggiasco che viaggia nella tempesta, vede una capanna, bussa e viene accolto. Il templum. Il sacro perimetro che ti salva. Il luogo rifugio che nelle lingue del Mediterraneo d'Oriente ha lo stesso nome della santità. Barak. La baracca. Che poi sta alla radice di Barka, la gens di Annibale, e di Barcellone. Il vino ha chiuso il cerchio.”

ViaggioRomaStradaAnnibaleAppiaBaraccaPiediRifugioPellegrinoViandante
Book:Appia
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