The thought of being eternally conscious, yet without body, should such a state be even conceivable any more, must be the very
worst kind of hell that one could imagine.
There was a time when I thought a flight delay was
the worst kind of hell.
Not exact matches
True, he couldn't get it done vs. SC & Bama in «16, when our OL was just overrun, and I don't know WHAT the
hell kind of weird food poisoning the whole team (coaches included) got into before ASU last year, but if we're talking only 3 losses over two years attributable to «
bad, or non-clutch QB play» — if you want to call it that, then is that really such a «
bad» track record?
3) now I can tell you what made my legs BIG LIKE
HELL: Step, sprints, HIIT with jumps, plyo weights... I was
kind of depressed when I started to see my body changing and you want to know the
worst part?
It's a mixed collection, by which I mean there are some real discoveries here along with some misfires, and Safe in
Hell (1931), a
kind of B - movie riff on Sadie Thompson (the original
bad girl in the tropics melodrama) directed with a brutally by William Wellman, and its star Dorothy Mackaill are the most exciting
of said discoveries.
Instead, they're
hell - bent on the idea that the online masses, guilty
of exercising poor taste, are somehow complicit in the
worst kinds of crimes that might be committed somewhere on the Internet by some sicko craving an audience.
I could hear them like voices in my own head — why has this boy stopped talking, queer as a winged snake is he, leant against the wall with such a look on his face, would be handsome if he weren't so sullen, what a chest he has, deep as a wrestler's, how does it spring from those twisted haunches to which are pawled legs like hanks
of rope, oh god, his ribcage is heaving as if at any moment he may vomit, maybe he is ill, boy what is your problem, alas, my wordless enquiries cause his convulsions to grow
worse, I think he may be going to have a fit, what will I do if he dies, oh dear, my further anxious attempts to communicate, with twisting «wherefore» hand motions and raising
of eyebrows, seem to cause violent shudders, bugger's lips are writhing in some
kind of agony, should a doctor be called, where can one find a doctor in this place, where the
hell am I anyway, what the fuck am I doing here?
Warning us that the storm is almost here, and showing us that Max's day is about to get a
hell of a lot
worse (which is
kind of impressive considering how Episode 4 ended) it reminds us that the conclusion arrives in just 13 days.
Too
bad we can't partition the atmosphere — I'd be happy to let you ruin your own world, but I sure as
hell won't let your
kind of dogma ruin mine.
Well, calculations I've seen suggest that if we took the most radical measure possible — bring emissions down to zero immediately and go back to the stone age, or actually something infinitely
worse than the stone age, since there are some 6 billions
of us around now)--- we would need to keep up that
kind of hell for something like 30 years in order to accomplish a 1 C prevention.