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Being a ‘gentleman’ goes way beyond holding the door for a girl and letting her go first all the time. It’s about truly serving her. I think when it comes to the way we should treat women, it’s a good idea to look to the way Jesus treated women. He laid his life down for His bride. He sacrificed His life for her, He lowered Himself for her. We must love women sacrificially in the same way that Jesus loved His bride sacrificially. Being a gentleman is about more than just being caring and thoughtful, it’s about possessing sacrificial and selfless Christ-like characteristics. I don’t even know if it’s possible to be a gentleman without knowing and possessing the character of Jesus. ↗
Some women like to treat a man like a piece of bubble gum. The poor sap thinks everything’s fine. And it is—until the taste runs out. Then she’ll just spit him out the car window of her life and never look back. ↗
I'm glad you told me. About the sex stuff." "None of it was a news flash." "True. But I figure you came out with it because you trust my ass." "I do. Now drag it back to the Pit. Marissa's got to be coming home soon." "She is," Butch headed for the door but then paused and looked over his shoulder. "V?" Vishous raised his stare. "Yeah?" "I think you should know, after all this deep conversatin'…" Butch shook his head gravely. "We still ain't dating." The two of them busted out laughing, and the cop was still yukking it up as he disappeared into the gym. ↗
#black-dagger-brotherhood #butch #butch-vishous #j-r-ward #lover-unbound
I purposefully abstain from dates on this occasion,that very one may be liberty to fix their own,aware that the cure of unconquerable passions,and the transfer of unchanging attachments,must vary much as to time in different people.---I only entreat every body to believe that exactly at the time when it was quite natural that it should be so, and not a week earlier,Edmund did cease to care about Miss Crawford, and become anxious to marry Fanny,as Fanny herself could desire. ↗
He recognised that all the period of Odette's life which had elapsed before she first met him, a period of which he had never sought to form any picture in his mind, was not the featureless abstraction which he could vaguely see, but had consisted of so many definite, dated years, each crowded with concrete incidents. But were he to learn more of them, he feared lest her past, now colourless, fluid and supportable, might assume a tangible, an obscene form, with individual and diabolical features. And he continued to refrain from seeking a conception of it, not any longer now from laziness of mind, but from fear of suffering. ↗
And what do you want?” I almost choked. “How could you even ask me that, Henry?” He sighed. “Because I’m thousands of miles away. Because I Skyped into your living room late one night and there’s a dude sitting next to you in the dark. Because Thanet tells me things. And Tennyson sent me a picture of you in a dress that looks like lingerie.” “It’s not that bad,” I said. “I didn’t say it was bad, Meg. It’s about a million miles from bad.” His voice was breaking with exasperation. “Things are crazy here, and I’m questioning everything. ↗
This magnificent poem [Exodus 15:1-21] has been much analyzed, dissected, scanned, and compared with an array of supposed precedent and counterpart works. It has been variously attributed and dated, and forced into a wide variety of forms and Sitze im Leben. There have been attempts to determine some parts of it as early and some parts as late, and to describe therefrom an evolution of both its form and its content. None of these attempts has been entirely successful. The best of them have amounted to no more than helpful suggestions, while the worst of them have been fiction bordering fantasy. ↗
