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His Vengeance is an insatiable engine fueled by burning wrath generating a boundless galactic nightmare.
e leaned back on his elbow, his black leather pants tightening over his legs, and smiled. It was his famous “come-hither” smile, the one the media loved to broadcast, the kind of smile no woman who’d gone through puberty would ignore. It promised things, wild, wicked, hot things. It probably almost never misfired. Well, he was in for a surprise.
Practically half the world was asleep, and the rest od it was running around like a chicken with its head cut off.
The noir hero is a knight in blood caked armor. He's dirty and he does his best to deny the fact that he's a hero the whole time."
It was funny, thought Chopra, how, in a city of twenty million, where it was virtually impossible to enjoy a moment of privacy, his fellow citizens so often managed to see absolutely nothing.
In his twenties, John Bridgens most identified with Hamlet. The strangely aging Prince of Denmark—Bridgens was quite sure that the boy Hamlet had magically aged over a few theatrical weeks to a man who was, at the very least, in his thirties by Act V—had been suspended between thought and deed, between motive and action, frozen by a consciousness so astute and unrelenting that it made him think about everything, even thought itself.
In his twenties, John Bridgens most identified with Hamlet. The strangely aging Prince of Denmark—Bridgens was quite sure that the boy Hamlet had magically aged over a few theatrical weeks to a man who was, at the very least, in his thirties by Act V—had been suspended between thought and deed, between motive and action, frozen by a consciousness so astute and unrelenting that it made him think about everything, even thought itself.
I was the paleontologist who'd developed a fear of bones. I was the zoologist who could barely admit he was an animal. I was the evolutionary biologist who found it hard to accept that his time on earth, too, was limited.
However, recent times, unfortunate, there has been a growing degeneration of the judiciary power, which finds its expression in a specific interpretation of the basic principles of this power (…) The degenerate form of these principles takes the form of three supposed principles: exclusivity, omnipotence, and voluntarism, which seem to be followed by some judges and legal theorists:
'In Australia one has to consider whose and what aspects of cultures are reproduced. While recognising goals and functions for Indigenous Literature depicted by Indigenous authors, it is important to remember their comments on the mainstream literary critique and notice the above mentioned Indigenous Literature’s unsteady position within Literary History and Institutions. Not represented up to its miscellaneous aptitudes, Aboriginal literature (within literary discourses and social forms of organisation) engages with various systems of signs in the production of texts. These very texts replicate the meanings of a culture, which must be seen as ever changing. Assuming exclusiveness, and inclusiveness of Indigenous Literature, this article’s intention has been to dismantle the perspective of theoretical nativism in the case of Australian Indigenous Literature.' (ANTI-NATIVISM IN AUSTRALIAN INDIGENOUS LITERATURE. Kultura Globalizacja Historia, nr7) 'To jest moja droga koniecznosci/ za krotkie mam rece/ by siegnac snow/ zamieszkalych na drugim koncu' (Punkt widzenia)
„Dotarli do domu, gdzie Krzysiek zajął się przyrządzaniem kolacji a Artur wreszcie mógł przeczytać korespondencję, której całkiem sporo się uzbierało. Po chwili wszedł do kuchni i wręczył przyjacielowi list. - Do ciebie – powiedział zaskoczony. - Jak to do mnie? To skąd się wzięło w twojej skrzynce? Pokaż – odparł Krzysiek biorąc kopertę od kumpla i dokładnie ją oglądając. – No faktycznie do mnie. Hmm.Dziwne – skwitował po przeczytaniu – spójrz ładny wierszyk. Artur wziął od kolegi kartkę i zabrał talerz z kanapkami do pokoju. Krzysiek postawił czajnik z wodą na gazie i dołączył do kumpla. Z pełnymi ustami Artur czytał list, wzruszył ramionami i sięgnął po kolejną kanapkę. Z treści listu wynikało jedynie, że autorką mogła być kobieta. Treść wyglądała następująco: Love! What the hell is this? Only pain and tears Only shadow on the heart. How can I be smart? When I’m fall in love? Love How many names it has? Can it mean only sex? Can it scare of its power? Can it lie? Can it be too shy? Like our Love! My heart made suicide Coz my conscience didn’t let it live. Love killed my soul Love killed my brain I feel only pain So what the hell is this? Can you show me Different meaning of love?
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