In his treatise on “Queen-Gold,” or Queen-pinmoney, an old King’s Bench author, one William Prynne, thus discourseth: “Ye tail is ye Queen’s, that ye Queen’s wardrobe may be supplied with ye whalebone.” Now this was written at a time when the black limber bone of the Greenland or Right whale was largely used in ladies’ bodices. But this same bone is not in the tail; it is in the head, which is a sad mistake for a sagacious lawyer like Prynne.
I had high hopes for the second season of Gotham — maybe that was my downfall. The show struggled to find its tone in season one, but a couple episodes into season two, it had finally settled for a kooky, Batman Forever feel.
The Penguin’s big arc from season one was wrapped up and now he’s a glorified background character, which is exactly where I want him. Still, the fact that several new actors joined the crowded show gave me reason to pause. Once was when she had made the Winkies her slaves, and set herself to rule over their country. The Winged Monkeys had helped her do this. The second time was when she had fought against the Great Oz himself, and driven him out of the land of the West. The Winged Monkeys had also helped her in doing this. Only once more could she use this Golden Cap, for which reason she did not like to do so until all her other powers were exhausted. But now that her fierce wolves and her wild crows and her stinging bees were gone, and her slaves had been scared away by the Cowardly Lion, she saw there was only one way left to destroy Dorothy and her friends.
Next she stood upon her right foot and said: “Hil-lo, hol-lo, hel-lo!” After this she stood upon both feet and cried in a loud voice: “Ziz-zy, zuz-zy, zik!” Now the charm began to work. The sky was darkened, and a low rumbling sound was heard in the air. There was a rushing of many wings, a great chattering and laughing, and the sun came out of the dark sky to show the Wicked Witch surrounded by a crowd of monkeys, each with a pair of immense and powerful wings on his shoulders. One, much bigger than the others, seemed to be their leader. He flew close to the Witch and said, “You have called us for the third and last time. What do you command?”
“Go to the strangers who are within my land and destroy them all except the Lion,” said the Wicked Witch. “Bring that beast to me, for I have a mind to harness him like a horse, and make him work.” “Your commands shall be obeyed,” said the leader. Then, with a great deal of chattering and noise, the Winged Monkeys flew away to the place where Dorothy and her friends were walking.
Wicked Witch took the Golden Cap from her cupboard
Great Oz himself, and driven him out of the land of the West. The Winged Monkeys had also helped her in doing this. Only once more could she use this Golden Cap, for which reason she did not like to do so until all her other powers were exhausted. But now that her fierce wolves and her wild crows and her stinging bees were gone, and her slaves had been scared away by the Cowardly Lion, she saw there was only one way left to destroy Dorothy and her friends. So the Wicked Witch took the Golden Cap from her cupboard and placed it upon her head. Then she stood upon her left foot and said slowly: “Ep-pe, pep-pe, kak-ke!” Next she stood upon her right foot and said.
The bigger question is: why do this at all?
Then the Lion gave a great roar and sprang towards them, and the poor Winkies were so frightened that they ran back as fast as they could. When they returned to the castle the Wicked Witch beat them well with a strap, and sent them back to their work, after which she sat down to think what she should do next. She could not understand how all her plans to destroy these strangers had failed; but she was a powerful Witch, as well as a wicked one, and she soon made up her mind how to act. There was, in her cupboard, a Golden Cap, with a circle of diamonds and rubies running round it. This Golden Cap had a charm. Whoever owned it could call three times upon the Winged Monkeys, who would obey any order they were given. But no person could command these strange creatures more than three times.
It’s very possible that his shooting schedule could have conflicted with Gotham‘s, but that doesn’t mean his character has to die. For those of you wondering if he really dies, rest assured that the episode ends with a close-up of Jerome’s twisted smile, which is affixed to his face permanently in the afterlife. The boy is dead.
One of the technological innovations presented in this film was a huge 3D display. As far as this invention is concerned, Hollywood was almost right.
I had gone but a short distance further when what seemed to be an excellent trail opened up around the face of a high cliff. The trail was level and quite broad and led upward and in the general direction I wished to go. The cliff arose for several hundred feet on my right, and on my left was an equal and nearly perpendicular drop to the bottom of a rocky ravine.
Dismounting, I laid Powell upon the ground, but the most painstaking examination failed to reveal the faintest spark of life. I forced water from my canteen between his dead lips, bathed his face and rubbed his hands, working over him continuously for the better part of an hour in the face of the fact that I knew him to be dead.
I was very fond of Powell; he was thoroughly a man in every respect; a polished southern gentleman; a staunch and true friend; and it was with a feeling of the deepest grief that I finally gave up my crude endeavors at resuscitation.
Leaving Powell’s body where it lay on the ledge I crept into the cave to reconnoiter. I found a large chamber, possibly a hundred feet in diameter and thirty or forty feet in height; a smooth and well-worn floor, and many other evidences that the cave had, at some remote period, been inhabited. The back of the cave was so lost in dense shadow that I could not distinguish whether there were openings into other apartments or not.
It is the custom of the Mahars to liberate those who remain alive within the arena after the beasts depart or are killed. Thus it has happened that several mighty warriors from far distant lands, whom we have captured on our slave raids, have battled the brutes turned in upon them and slain them, thereby winning their freedom. In the instance which you witnessed the beasts killed each other, but the result was the same—the man and woman were liberated, furnished with weapons, and started on their homeward journey. The chances are that ere long you will know much more about it than I,” and he grinned as he spoke. The Sagoths have a well-developed sense of humor. “And suppose it is the arena,” I continued; “what then?” “You saw the two who met the tarag and the thag the time that you escaped?” he said. “Yes.” “Your end in the arena would be similar to what was intended for them,” he explained, “though of course the same kinds of animals might not be employed.” “It is sure death in either event?” I asked.
The Queen smiled and passed on. ‘Who ARE you talking to?’ said the King, going up to Alice, and looking at the Cat’s head with great curiosity. ‘It’s a friend of mine—a Cheshire Cat,’ said Alice: ‘allow me to introduce it.’ ‘I don’t like the look of it at all,’ said the King: ‘however, it may kiss my hand if it likes.’ ‘I’d rather not,’ the Cat remarked.
‘Don’t be impertinent,’ said the King, ‘and don’t look at me like that!’ He got behind Alice as he spoke. ‘A cat may look at a king,’ said Alice. ‘I’ve read that in some book, but I don’t remember where.’ ‘Well, it must be removed,’ said the King very decidedly, and he called the Queen, who was passing at the moment, ‘My dear! I wish you would have this cat removed!’ The Queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great or small. ‘Off with his head!’ she said, without even looking round. ‘I’ll fetch the executioner myself,’ said the King eagerly, and he hurried off. Alice thought she might as well go back, and see how the game was going on, as she heard the Queen’s voice in the distance, screaming with passion.
She had already heard her sentence three of the players to be executed for having missed their turns, and she did not like the look of things at all, as the game was in such confusion that she never knew whether it was her turn or not. So she went in search of her hedgehog. The hedgehog was engaged in a fight with another hedgehog, which seemed to Alice an excellent opportunity for croqueting one of them with the other: the only difficulty was, that her flamingo was gone across to the other side of the garden, where Alice could see it trying in a helpless sort of way to fly up into a tree.
Queen’s voice in the distance, screaming with passion
So she tucked it away under her arm, that it might not escape again, and went back for a little more conversation with her friend. When she got back to the Cheshire Cat, she was surprised to find quite a large crowd collected round it: there was a dispute going on between the executioner, the King, and the Queen, who were all talking at once, while all the rest were quite silent, and looked very uncomfortable. The moment Alice appeared, she was appealed to by all three to settle the question, and they repeated their arguments to her, though, as they all spoke at once, she found it very hard indeed to make out exactly what they said.
When Every Open Eye kicks off with “Never Ending Circles,” it sounds as if the song started on its own before you even hit play.
It’s proof CHVRCHES know one of the most important rules of writing great pop music: it’s better to sprint than train for a marathon. It’s not to say these songs are really going to pump adrenaline into your veins, but their objective certainly seems to be giving strength and inspiration to the listener.
They’re a band whose synthy pop hooks
His three boats stove around him, and oars and men both whirling in the eddies; one captain, seizing the line-knife from his broken prow, had dashed at the whale, as an Arkansas duellist at his foe, blindly seeking with a six inch blade to reach the fathom-deep life of the whale. That captain was Ahab. And then it was, that suddenly sweeping his sickle-shaped lower jaw beneath him, Moby Dick had reaped away Ahab’s leg, as a mower a blade of grass in the field. No turbaned Turk, no hired Venetian or Malay, could have smote him with more seeming malice. Small reason was there to doubt, then, that ever since that almost fatal encounter, Ahab had cherished a wild vindictiveness against the whale, all the more fell for that in his frantic morbidness he at last came to identify with him, not only all his bodily woes, but all his intellectual and spiritual exasperations.
They’re a band whose synthy pop hooks
Then, in darting at the monster, knife in hand, he had but given loose to a sudden, passionate, corporal animosity; and when he received the stroke that tore him, he probably but felt the agonizing bodily laceration, but nothing more. Yet, when by this collision forced to turn towards home, and for long months of days and weeks, Ahab and anguish lay stretched together in one hammock, rounding in mid winter that dreary, howling Patagonian Cape; then it was, that his torn body and gashed soul bled into one another; and so interfusing, made him mad.
A trait carried over from their debut, luckily for us listeners
Egyptian chest, and was moreover intensified by his delirium, that
his mates were forced to lace him fast, even there, as he sailed, raving in his hammock. In a strait-jacket, he swung to the mad rockings of the gales. And, when running into more sufferable latitudes, the ship, with mild stun’sails spread, floated across the tranquil tropics, and, to all appearances.
That it was only then, on the homeward voyage, after the encounter, that the final monomania seized him, seems all but certain from the fact that, at intervals during the passage, he was a raving lunatic; and, though unlimbed of a leg, yet such vital strength yet lurked in his Egyptian chest, and was moreover intensified by his delirium, that his mates were forced to lace him fast, even there, as he sailed, raving in his hammock. In a strait-jacket, he swung to the mad rockings of the gales. And, when running into more sufferable latitudes, the ship, with mild stun’sails spread, floated across the tranquil tropics, and, to all appearances, the old man’s delirium seemed left behind him with the Cape Horn swells.
Human madness is oftentimes a cunning and most feline thing. When you think it fled, it may have but become transfigured into some still subtler form. Ahab’s full lunacy subsided not, but deepeningly contracted; like the unabated Hudson, when that noble Northman flows narrowly, but unfathomably through the Highland gorge.
Lauren Mayberry’s lyrics touches on elements of heartbreak
God the direful madness was now gone; even then, Ahab, in his hidden self, raved on. Human madness is oftentimes a cunning and most feline thing. When you think it fled, it may have but become transfigured into some still subtler form. Ahab’s full lunacy subsided not, but deepeningly contracted; like the unabated Hudson, when that noble Northman flows narrowly, but unfathomably through the Highland gorge.
But, as in his narrow-flowing monomania, not one jot of Ahab’s broad madness had been left behind; so in that broad madness, not one jot of his great natural intellect had perished. That before living agent, now became the living instrument. If such a furious trope may stand, his special lunacy stormed his general sanity, and carried it, and turned all its concentred cannon upon its own mad mark. I knew the Indians would soon discover that they were on the wrong trail and that the search for me would be renewed in the right direction as soon as they located my tracks. I had gone but a short distance further when what seemed to be an excellent trail opened up around the face of a high cliff. The trail was level and quite broad and led upward and in the general direction I wished to go. The cliff arose for several hundred feet on my right, and on my left was an equal and nearly perpendicular drop to the bottom of a rocky ravine.
¡Hola chicos, aquí les tengo otra colección de imágenes de insólitas de la semana! Dónde verás espectaculares fotografías del momento en que un martín pescador atrapa su exquisita comida, además te sorprenderá el fenómeno natural “Gustnado”.
#1 ¡Hora de atrapar la comida!
El fotógrafo Paul Sawer capturó estas imágenes de un martín pescador mientras este atrapa su presa en Suffolk, Reino Unido.
#2 ¡Freerunner desafía la gravedad!
Alfred Scott, de los Estados Unidos realiza una rutina de freerunning en la isla de Santorini como parte de la competencia Red Bull Art of Motion en Santorini, Grecia.
#3 ¡Foca hace photobomb!
El surfista Russell Quinn y su hermano Adán, de Huskisson en Nueva Gales del Sur, se sorprendieron cuando el mamífero juguetón interrumpió su sesión fotográfica.
#4 ¡Aparece un Gustnado en Australia!
Un gustnado es una nube específica tornádica y de corta vida, de bajo nivel que puede formar un temporal.
Es una palabra que se deriva del vocablo inglés ‘gust’ (racha) y la terminación ‘nado’ (de la palabra tornado), es decir, su traducción sería “racha tornádica”.
#5 ¡Espectacular salto sobre una ola!
Dane Reynolds vuela por el aire mientras realiza un impresionante salto. El surfista profesional participo durante Marruecos Surf Adventures, donde se reúnen los mejores surfistas del mundo.
Whether you grew up on Endless Summer, Point Break, Blue Crush, or Johnny Tsunami, chances are, there was a point in your life when you dreamed of surfing.
Longtime Joe Gibbs Racing pit crew member Nick Odell has joined Hendrick Motorsports to serve as the front-tire changer
Odell, who was recently released from JGR, will replace Scott Brzozowski on the No. 24 team for the final eight races of the 2015 Chase.
Prior to last weekend’s race at New Hampshire Motor Speedway, JGR announced Josh Leslie was replacing Odell on the No. 18 pit crew. Mayo has served as Earnhardt Jr.’s front-tire changer for much of the 2015 season, but was replaced by Kevin Novak.
But now the sounds inside had ceased, and a thin circle of bright metal showed between the top and the body of the cylinder. Air was either entering or escaping at the rim with a thin, sizzling sound. They listened, rapped on the scaly burnt metal with a stick, and, meeting with no response, they both concluded the man or men inside must be insensible or dead. Of course the two were quite unable to do anything.
Henderson went into the railway station at once, in order to telegraph the news to London. The newspaper articles had prepared men’s minds for the reception of the idea. I found a little crowd of perhaps twenty people surrounding the huge hole in which the cylinder lay.
Gregg the butcher and his little boy
I think they perceived that nothing was to be done for the present, and had gone away to breakfast at Henderson’s house. There were four or five boys sitting on the edge of the Pit, with their feet dangling, and amusing themselves–until I stopped them–by throwing stones at the giant mass. After I had spoken to them about it, they began playing at “touch” in and out of the group of bystanders. Among these were a couple of cyclists, a jobbing gardener I employed sometimes, a girl carrying a baby, Gregg the butcher and his little boy, and two or three loafers and golf caddies who were accustomed to hang about the railway station. There was very little talking. Few of the common people in England had anything but the vaguest astronomical ideas in those days. Most of them were staring quietly at the big table like end of the cylinder, which was still as Ogilvy and Henderson had left it.
I fancy the popular expectation of a heap of charred corpses was disappointed at this inanimate bulk. Some went away while I was there, and other people came. I clambered into the pit and fancied I heard a faint movement under my feet.
[blockquote author=”DALAI LAMA” pull=”normal”]Our prime purpose in this life is to help others. And if you can’t help them, at least don’t hurt them.[/blockquote]
It was only when I got thus close to it that the strangeness of this object was at all evident to me. At the first glance it was really no more exciting than an overturned carriage or a tree blown across the road. Not so much so, indeed. It looked like a rusty gas float. It required a certain amount of scientific education to perceive that the grey scale of the Thing was no common oxide, that the yellowish-white metal that gleamed in the crack between the lid and the cylinder had an unfamiliar hue.