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Quote by Deshawn Yeldell

“All the multi-talents I possess; are meaningless! They mean not a thing to this world, unless they make me a filthy rich man. -MillYentei⋆”

Quote by Deshawn Yeldell

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Deshawn Yeldell

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“You know that I hate you, Roark. I hate you for what you are, for wanting you, for having to want you. I'm going to fight you-and I'm going to destroy you-and I tell you this as calmly as I told you that I'm a begging animal. I'm going to pray that you can't be destroyed-I tell you this, too-even though I believe in nothing and have nothing to pray to. But I will fight to block every step you take. I will fight to tear every chance you want away from you. I will hurt you through the only thing that can hurt you-through your work. I will fight to starve you, to strangle you on the things you won't be able to reach. I have done it to you to today-and that is why I shall sleep with you tonight. Part 2, Chapter 7, pg. 272-3 The Fountainhead”

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Author:Ayn Rand
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“… ze všeho nejvíc ji v tu chvíli skličovala nezbytná myšlenka: “Co kdybych ale nemusela umřít! Co kdybych mohla žít, ta nekonečnost! A tohle všechno by bylo moje! Každou minutu bych proměnila ve věčnost, nic bych nepropásla, každý okamžik bych na vážkách odvažovala, ani chviličku bych nepromarnila!” Říkal, že nakonec ji z té myšlenky popadla taková zlost, že už si přála, aby ji někdo zastřelil co nejdřív.”

DostoyevskyFaveAh
Author:najobľúbenejší od Dostojevského
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“Before Marco could respond, the low hum of the backup systems faltered, flickering off momentarily, plunging the cafeteria into silence. The crowd froze, and then the red emergency lights flared back on, dimmer than before. A wave of unease rippled through the room. “What now?” Marco muttered, his hand brushing the edge of the table as if for support. Then the voice came. It was faint at first, a whisper carried on an invisible wind. But it grew quickly, overlapping into a cacophony of fragmented words and phrases, echoing from every direction. “Too many… too much…” “Falling… the stars… no, no, no…” “I can’t… hold… where… where are you…?” The cafeteria erupted into chaos. People clutched their heads or dropped to their knees, covering their ears as if trying to block out the sound. Some screamed, others whimpered, and a few simply stood frozen, wide-eyed and pale. Marco turned to Berta, shouting over the noise. “What’s going on? Is this the Logista? Is it them?” Berta didn’t answer, her gaze fixed on the center of the room. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but something about the voice sent a chill down her spine. Then, with a sound like distant thunder, the echoes ceased. The room fell silent, save for the sound of ragged breathing and muffled sobs. The crowd stood motionless, their eyes darting around, waiting for something else to happen. And then it did. A flash of light burst into existence at the center of the room, so bright it forced everyone to shield their eyes. When it subsided, a figure lay crumpled on the floor, smoke rising faintly from their form. Marco’s breath caught. “Ereban?”

FallDestructionGalaxySpiralAstorAurimionErebanGalaxide
Book:The Spiral Book: The Five Humans: A Science Fantasy Epic
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“Japan and Hong Kong are steadily whittling away at the last of the elephants, turning their tusks (so much more elegant left on the elephant) into artistic carvings. In much the same way, the beautiful furs from leopard, jaguar, Snow leopard, Clouded leopard and so on, are used to clad the inelegant bodies of thoughtless and, for the most part, ugly women. I wonder how many would buy these furs if they knew that on their bodies they wore the skin of an animal that, when captured, was killed by the medieval and agonizing method of having a red-hot rod inserted up its rectum so as not to mark the skin.”

ConservationAnimal CrueltyFur Trade
Book:The Aye-Aye and I
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“Beautiful prairies, bordered by lofty hills sparsely scattered with timber, stretch around. The massive fronds of the Pinus Ponderosa replace the elegant leaflets of the Cedar, no longer found save rarely, perchance, in some deep dell moistened by a purling streamlet. Groves of aspen appear here and there. The Balsam Poplar shows itself at intervals only, along the streams. The white racemes of the Service-berry flower, and the chaste flowers of the Mock Orange, load the air with their fragrance. Every copse re-echoes with the low drumming of the ruffed Grouse; the trees resound with the muffled booming of the Cock of the Woods. The Pheasant shirrs past; the scrannel-pipe of the larger Crane -- ever a watchful sentinel -- grates harshly on the ear; and the shrill whistle of the Curlew as it soars aloft aides the general concert of the re-opined year. I speak still of Spring; for the impressions of that jocum season are ever the most vivid, and naturally recur with the greatest force in after years. -- Alexander Caulfield Anderson describing the new brigade trail between Lac la Hache and Kamloops.”

HistoryBritish ColumbiaFur Trade
Book:The Pathfinder: A.C. Anderson's Journeys in the West
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