Your Mom"Cao ni maaa "
"Aiyah." Yao shook his head, an elder to a child. "You sound like a sheep, aru."
America, only blinking once, tried again. "Tao ni ma."
"You're saying 'cao' wrong, aru!" Yao's brow furrowed. Honestly, why did Alfred so insist upon learning a Chinese curse? around him, he acted as if he had never met a Chinese person before. How long had they been doing this? an hour? a half? Yao wanted only to walk away, do something else maybe improve that Guangzhou duck he had trouble with too salty
"Sao ni maaa!"
He had done that last week. Was his memory going, or what?
Why did he agree to this again?
Inwardly groaning, and wondering why he had ever switched to using pinyin, he turned back to the American, who was staring at him with a somewhat hopeful look a rather confident one.
"Cao ni ma"; and then he stopped. How was he to get the pronunciation of the first word right? " 'Cao.' 'T' and 's' in Wade-Giles."
Roman Society"All roads lead to Rome." "When in Rome, do as Rome does." Two lines can only contradict each other so much; and yet, be so true; in fact, these two lines can contradict each other. After all, doesn't the latter quote sound like an order? Rome-we all know of the Roman Empire-or, at least, we should. Ancient Rome, Roma Antiqua whatever name it goes by, it is still Rome; the empire, the father of Western civilization. You may have heard of Julius Caesar, Mark Antony, Pompeii, or Gladiators; and the ancestor of today's Romance languages-Latin. However, despite these truly great attribute Roman society make one wonder. In Roman social life, women were inferiors; Gladiators were, in fact, slaves, and slavery was all-around common as the cattle. Rome-the great Rome-had a society that would make today's hotheads cry out in indignation. It's not a new story, though-men had all the power; that is certainly not new; another road connected to Rome. Boys and girls alike were educated you
A Flower For The Nation沉鱼落雁, 闭月羞花。
Yao was still young and struggling when he met Xi Shi.
He did not truly meet her, in the technical sense-he watched her from afar, caught only glimpses of her when she was outside-usually accompanied Emperor Fuchai; she was gentle, and beautiful.
Her beauty was such that Yao could not look away-his eyes were completely drawn to the lovely face that made him wither and flourish at the same time-he felt himself unworthy to look, and yet he did, and loved it as much as he regretted it. He would later wonder if he was a masochist to torture himself so, but he looked and looked. He looked whenever he could.
His land was torn by war-and he did not care for her involvement in her alluring ways that captured Fuchai completely. Yao envied the ruler, and almost wished that he could slay him and have Xi Shi to himself.
Thus the young man fell in love with a woman.
He watched her-sometimes she would look at a pool of
GraceThe nineteen-year-old's eyes sweep through the crowd. The twin globes of blue flick to one spot and another, taking in the appearance of the Italian people with an unconcealed fascination. To her, they are so unlike the people of the streets of her native New York. They move with a smoother grace-perhaps, there is just something in the way they talk? She cannot tell, perhaps she is exaggerating in her mind. They speak Italian, just as easily as she herself speaks English. The sound is like an insane chorus burst into song, and she enjoys the way the voices speed about in complex twists.
She likes the narrow streets, she likes the architecture; and her eyes enjoy every curve, every twist, of Italy.
Europe is beautiful.
Italy is beautiful.
What writer could not draw inspiration from such a place?
Apparently me, she thinks, dully.
It is beautiful-that cannot be denied; it cannot be denied that Italy is breathtakingly beautiful, and the sun is shining so strongly in the sky.
Get WellLuke hated the way he rasped it out, a confession of weakness. "I have a cold."
He could not tell whether he was groaning it or moaning it when he said it; but he could care less. His voice was soft, rough as always-and it rasped as he felt the lack of energy in his body. To speak was to force sounds from his throat, his mouth. The straining effort pshed him back; he collapsed against the wall.
The coolness of bricks against his back was oddly comforting, but he reveled in it.
Weakly, he forced his hand up to press against his brow.
Letting the hand drop, he closed his eyes; inwardly he cursed. He already was a burden his mind's eye, to Thalia and Annabeth. They were being hunted, and now he had to collapse with the slowing fever.
Ignoring Thalia's quiet, urgent voice asking-no, demanding-Annabeth to get water, he let his wooziness drift into feverish oblivion:
He needed rest, and though he told himself, over and over, to not burden his companions with his pitiful ne
Behind The Imp's Facade"I can't do this anymore," he said, feeling his dim sobs rise in hysteria. Sweeping aside his cool, cold facade. "I can. I can't." He felt his voice rising as he jerked back. "Let me go!"
But Niou kept his vice of a fist around Yagyuu's wrist, unwavering. He held -- clung -- with a look of pain across his face; his own chilly shell shucked off; with the aura of someone with every will in the world to explain. He truly looked as if he were in agony -- eyes glittering, the blood seeping out from between his lips. Remorseful. Concerned. Hurt.
The drop of oil that bred the fire. Hurt.
Yagyuu saw it all, felt his chest being ripped open slowly, the dagger to his heart. The tempest, flaring in his head, stamch an endless pit.
But I don't care, he thought, before his vision blurred with the pinnacle of his agony. He really did it -- cheated on me and I was always trying to please him...!
He jerked again, as if his limbs were fueled by his thoughts. "Let go!"
"Hiroshi, hear me ou