We don’t want to lose you

But now, Scarlett pushed that admonition into the back of her mind. That she was encouraging theft, and perhaps theft from people worse off than she the beauty, was no longer a matter for conscience. In fact the morals of the affair weighed lightly upon her. Instead of punishment or reproof, she only regretted he had been shot.

You must be more careful, Pork. We don’t want to lose you. What would we do without you? You’ve been mighty good and faithful and when we get some money again, I’m going to buy you a big gold watch and engrave on it something out of the Bible. ‘Well done, good and faithful servant hong kong hotels.’ ”Pork beamed under the praise and gingerly rubbed his bandaged leg.Dat soun’ mighty fine, Miss Scarlett. W’en you speckin’ ter git dat money?”I don’t know, Pork, but I’m going to get it some time, somehow.” She bent on him an unseeing glance that was so passionately bitter he stirred uneasily, “Some day, when this war is over, I’m going to have lots of money, and when I do I’ll never be hungry or cold again. None of us will ever be hungry or cold. We’ll all wear fine clothes and have fried chicken every day and—”Then she stopped. The strictest rule at Tara, one which she herself had made and which she rigidly enforced, was that no one should ever talk of the fine meals they had eaten in the past or what they would eat now, if they had the opportunity.

Pork slipped from the room as she remained staring moodily into the distance. In the old days, now dead and gone, life had been so complex, so full of intricate and complicated problems. There had been the problem of trying to win Ashley’s love and trying to keep a dozen other beaux dangling and unhappy. There had been small breaches of conduct to be concealed from her elders, jealous girls to be flouted or placated, styles of dresses and materials to be chosen, different coiffures to be tried and university technology, oh, so many, many other matters to be decided! Now life was so amazingly simple. Now all that mattered was food enough to keep off starvation, clothing enough to prevent freezing and a roof overhead which did not leak too much.

In life, the boundless joy and kindness

In life, carrying no amount of Enze, AC Motor’s Operating PrincipleYong Yang Zhao quietly happy. Years of vicissitudes, time is always affectionate, those water memory of smile, those flowers Mandala strewn at random, with pious heart, gentle miss. Life mileage, passing scenery million, does not have the wind dies Yunyan the past, laminating a the most real emotion; fleeting such as poem, such as song of freehand brushwork in traditional Chinese painting, dipped in full rhyme fragrance. Review of warm fondly, through the monsoon boundless desert, Ann falls in the present Jingning the harbor; a handle without language a gentle dormant in the city romantic, sincere and plain will be waiting for each other.
Perhaps, you ever dream of life of the protagonist, will eventually become your life a passer; perhaps, your affinity, in you ju Mei visible place, suddenly a, deja vu of the happy reunion. Now want to come, the fate of the length and the thickness of the emotional, always to measure the time. Really visible, the sun, the moon and the peer, the separated, presumably did not belong to the you, just flow wind song in countless ways. Only accompany to the end, melody-nnis worthy of you to cherish, is your life beloved.
The evening air brother said: flowers fall harvest are indifferent, bittersweet! Listen to this, I feel deeply, it is a kind of reading all the vicissitudes of the open-minded thinking, it is an experienced and open mind. Met, on the treasure, separated, on the blessing; to and fro, are the fate of the gift. Some things, even if you can not have a satisfactory, but the effort to pursue the pursuit of the process, but also precisely to be happy, it is the sense of the result. There is this understanding, there is what can not be calm in the face of it!
Mortal world, time is like water, some are unable to identify, already see smoke and light, no longer ask diligently. The world is uncertain, some people and things Melody-nn's Public Libraryperhaps not as good as they imagined, originally wanted to be simple, can not stop the messy complex of the people. Most of the time, the feeling of pure things, more easy to fall, more likely to disappoint. The inevitable change and loss, no need to care too much, you just do the best of their own, to their own good enough, then you can.
From the distant horizon, leisurely clouds floated, evoke inner endless yearning. One cannot reach far away, there lived the dream flower colorful Sheng Mei, a lifetime, infinite linger. Perhaps, old beliefs do not forget, regret the past, only their own to own a reassuring confessed is also a no choice and secure it! After the rest of my life, just for a person to write poetry, for a person to keep loving heart, magnanimous, innocent Ting li. In his heart, I am still the one that was his only enchanting flower.
The sea of life, the seemingly placid appearance, perhaps stormy, perhaps turbulent. The journey of life, way of the encounter, joy and sorrow, unexpectedly rush; first glimpsed light beautiful, everyone will think ending is sad or happy. No long, light cool feeling, euphemism and carefree authentic parting, only period, wind erosion, and never say goodbye. There is a margin, weathering rain, smoke dispersed, can not hold a little more than warm; fluttering, without a trace, as though it had never been.
Long life, the rain was removed and, finally understand,
 clutch of the story, the original is unusual. A few things and, after washing, still keeping a original innocence and yearning. A single not exposed to dust of the heart, smiling response all the joys and sorrows of the fortune, value the sincere, cherish gratuitously, finally has, there is no longer left sigh. Spring summer, are you pleased to, inside and outside of the dream, you are handsome and shadow.
Always thought that yourself enough reason and indifference, however, Chengcheng cool thin time, tearful moved finally understand that he was not unkind. A time of separation and reunion, hard disposable, hard hard, it is still haunted by the inner feelings. Thoughts of hard struggle, how are unwilling to let go of their own, eventually stubborn but his heart, so he chose to surrender.
Those who have been wasted time, wasted time, wearing clouds after the fog, there is still a treasure, all will be time. About some of the kindness, since we cannot find enough reason to accept, then leave some think a great read, in a subtle way,melody-nn's soup let it lasting warm static beauty bar! With the gentle memory of the heart, let it flow long bar! So, it is the most appropriate place.

Augusta and Macon condemn it

The people who settled the towncalled successively Terminus, Marthasville and Atlanta, were a pushy people. Restless, energetic people from the older sections of Georgia and from more distant states were drawn to this town that sprawled itself around the junction of the railroads in its center. They came with enthusiasm. They built their stores around the five muddy red roads that crossed near the depot. They built their fine homes on Whitehall and Washington streets and along the high ridge of land on which countless generations of moccasined Indian feet had beaten a path called the Peachtree Trail. They were proud of the place, proud of its growth, proud of themselves for making it grow. Let the older towns call Atlanta anything they pleased. Atlanta did not care.
　Scarlett had always liked Atlanta for the very same reasons that made Savannah, Augusta and Macon condemn it. Like herself, the town was a mixture of the old and new in Georgia, in which the old often came off second best in its conflicts with the self-willed and vigorous new. Moreover, there was something personal, exciting about a town that was born—or at least christened—the same year she was christened.
　
　The night before had been wild and wet with rain, but when Scarlett arrived in Atlanta a warm sun was at work, bravely attempting to dry the streets that were winding rivers of red mud. In the open space around the depot, the soft ground had been cut and churned by the constant flow of traffic in and out until it resembled an enormous hog wallow, and here and there vehicles were mired to the hubs in the ruts. A never-ceasing line of army wagons and ambulances, loading and unloading supplies and wounded from the trains, made the mud and confusion worse as they toiled in and struggled out, drivers swearing, mules plunging and mud spattering for yards.
　Scarlett stood on the lower step of the train, a pale pretty figure in her black mourning dress, her crêpe veil fluttering almost to her heels. She hesitated, unwilling to soil her slippers and hems, and looked about in the shouting tangle of wagons, buggies and carriages for Miss Pittypat. There was no sign of that chubby pink-cheeked lady, but as Scarlett searched anxiously a spare old negro, with grizzled kinks and an air of dignified authority, came toward her through the mud, his hat in his hand.
　“Dis Miss Scarlett, ain’ it? Dis hyah Peter, Miss Pitty’s coachman. Doan step down in dat mud,” he ordered severely, as Scarlett gathered up her skirts preparatory to descending. “You is as bad as Miss Pitty an’ she lak a chile ‘bout gittin’ her feets wet. Lemme cahy you.”
　He picked Scarlett up with ease despite his apparent frailness and age and, observing Prissy standing on the platform of the train, the baby in her arms, he paused: “Is dat air chile yo’ nuss? Miss Scarlett, she too young ter be handlin’ Mist’ Charles’ onlies’ baby! But we ten’ to dat later. You gal, foller me, an’ doan you go drappin’ dat baby.”
　Scarlett submitted meekly to being carried toward the carriage and also to the peremptory manner in which Uncle Peter criticized her and Prissy. As they went through the mud with Prissy sloshing, pouting, after them, she recalled what Charles had said about Uncle Peter.