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Kirito Matos Matos itibaren 8950-370 Odeleite, Portekiz itibaren 8950-370 Odeleite, Portekiz

Okuyucu Kirito Matos Matos itibaren 8950-370 Odeleite, Portekiz

Kirito Matos Matos itibaren 8950-370 Odeleite, Portekiz

xsaber

church people got life and they live for christ!!!!1

xsaber

I was surprised to learn Jackie Chan was sold to the Chinese Opera when he was a child because his parents couldn't afford to support him...and he was an unruly child. That part is believable I suppose. I thought the whole training era, from 7-17, was fascinating...and brutal. Makes me wonder if he really is the last true kung fu performer like that, that can do his own stunts, since that kind of training has to be outlawed by now. Was that training really the key to his skill? Or will others come out that talented and that well trained without the brutality? I really enjoyed learning about his early life and early career. I had no idea he was so famous in Asia and around the world. So I was a disappointed toward the end when I realized the book was written in 1998 before he really made it big in America. Maybe there will be a sequel. :) Because I really want to know where his daugher fits in there, since he only mentions a wife and son in this book. Probably because she was born in 1999. I suppose that's all too scandalous anyway. That's another sad part of his life: no normal family life. But that's what he chose and that seems to be working for him. Overall I really enjoyed reading the book and if makes me want to rent his movies and really pay attention to the stunts! The 4 comes from some language but other than that, it's pretty clean.

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This memoir graphically depicts the horrors of this war, and is all the more amazing because the author lived to tell about it.

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Favorite Quotes Great is truth, but still greater, from a practical point of view, is silence about truth. Impulse arrested spills over, and the flood is feeling, the flood is passion, the flood is even madness: it depends on the force of the current, the height and strength of the barrier. The unchecked stream flows smoothly down its appointed channels into a calm well being. Words can be like X-rays, if you use them properly--they’ll go through anything. You read and you’re pierced. I want to know what passion is. I want to feel something strongly. Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the overcompensation for misery. And, of course, stability isn’t nearly so spectacular as instability. And being contented has none of the glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt. Happiness is never grand. It isn’t only art that is incompatible with happiness, it’s also science. Science is dangerous, we have to keep it most carefully chained and muzzled. What’s the point of truth or beauty or knowledge when anthrax bombs are popping all around you?

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I was disappointed at first with the lack of sequel-y continuity with the previous book, but in the end I liked that the book could stand on its own and only had superficial linkages to the previous novel. I really did. I think I almost preferred this book to the other one, if only for the fact that there are no references to Wales (that I can recall).