It remains to be seen whether Carrick will ever fully catch on as a full-time, indispensable NHL defenceman. His 5-on-5 xG% this season was 41.39 percent, the lowest of his career. Obviously a lot of that is due to the fact that he plays on the bottom-feeding Devils.
This leaning, ladder style desk is an elegant storage solution for your apartment, bedroom, or home office, combining contemporary design with classic functionality. It's made from solid maple wood and has a two-tone look that enhances this desk's appeal. The base is angled and L-shaped in a golden, natural finish, giving this piece a hint of glam. The desktop and the two upper shelves are painted white, with plenty of surface space to organize books and photos while leaving enough room on the desk for your laptop and notebooks. There's also a cubby, plus a drawer for pens and other smaller office supplies.
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This desk boasts an unparalleled level of craftsmanship and you can take pride in owning furniture that's built to the highest standards and with the strictest attention to detail. This elegant yet durable Desk features a drawer that sits on full-extension ball bearings that gently and easily open and shut. Furthermore, this unit is sealed with conversion varnish that protects this piece from water, oil, alcohol, and even nail polish. These features give this Desk not only a refined look but a prestigious feel as well. The desk offers great storage and functionality in addition to being a lovely addition to your home office.
This solid maple, the hand-made desk is the modern alternative to clunky, old-fashioned home office furniture. This stylish desk fits easily into any room of the home and transforms your space from chaotic and dated to beautiful and productive.
This Christiano Desk displays a simple yet elegant design that has stood the test of time. This desk is handmade by highly skilled Amish craftsmen. You can take pride in owning furniture that is built to the highest standards and with the strictest attention to detail. This exceptional and sturdy writing desk has a pencil drawer with full-extension side-mounted ball bearings for an exceptionally smooth motion. In addition, it also features a pull-down keyboard Drawer that glides along full-extension side-mounted ball bearings. Furthermore, this desk is sealed with a conversion varnish that protects this piece from water, oil, alcohol, and even nail polish. These features give this writing desk not only a refined look but a prestigious feel as well.
There is no danger of repetition, if the thought be deep. Superiorinsight will always sufficiently astonish, will always be novel in itsplace. The more simple the method, the more wonderful every result. Menare shut, as if by a wall of adamant, from all that is yet beyond theirsympathy. My neighbor is immersed in planting, building, and the newroad. Beside him, companion only in air and sunshine, walks one who hasno ocular adjustment for these atoms; his thought overleaps them instarting, and is wholly beyond. The end of vision for a practical eye isbeginning of clairvoyance. To the road-maker, man is a maker of roads;he cracks his nuts and his jokes unconscious, while the ground opens andthe world heaves with revolutions of thought. Ask him in vain whatWebster means by "Concord, Lexington, and Bunker Hill"; what Channingsees in the Dignity of Man, or Edwards in the Sweetness of Divine Love;ask him in vain what is the "Fate" of Aeschylus, the "Compensation" ofEmerson, Carlyle's "Conflux of Eternities," the "Conjunction" ofSwedenborg, the "Newness" of Fox, the "Morning Red" of Behmen, the"Renunciation" of Goethe, the "Comforter" of Jesus, the "Justification"of Paul.
But what are the occasional visits of this life-consumer, this vampirethat sucks out the blood, to his constant, never-failing presence? Thereare those who feel within themselves the power of living fullest lives,of sounding every chord of the full diapason of passion and feeling, yetwho have been so hemmed around, so shut in by adverse and narrowingcircumstances, that never, no, not once in their half-century of yearswhich stretch from childhood to old age, have they been free to breatheout, to speak aloud the heart that was in them. Ever the same wastingindifference to the things that are, the same ill-repressed longing forthe things that might be. Long days of wearisome repetition of duties inwhich there is no life, followed by restless nights, when Imaginationseizes the reins in her own hands, and paints the out-blossoming ofthose germs of happiness and fulness of being of whose existence withinus we carry about always the aching consciousness.
But all that glory was over now; it had flashed its little day: forthere is a glow in the excitement of our religious revivals as potent inits effect on the imaginations of women and young men as ever were thefastings and penances which brought the dreams and reveries, the holyvisions and the glorious revealings, of the Catholic votaries. In thisshort, triumphant time of spiritual pride lay the whole romance of mystep-mother's life. Perhaps it was well for her soul that she was takenfrom the scene of her triumphs and brought again to the hard realitiesof life. The self-exaltation, the ungodly pride passed away; but therewas left the earnest, prayerful desire to do her duty in her way andcalling, and the first path of duty which opened to her zeal was thatwhich led to the care of a motherless child, the saving of an immortalsoul. And in all sincerity and uprightness did she strive to walk in it.But what woman of five-and-thirty, who has outlived her youth andwomanly tenderness in the loneliness and hardening influences of asingle life, and who marries at last for a shelter in old age, knows thewants of a little child? Indeed, what but a mother's love has thelong-enduring patience to support the never ceasing calls forforbearance and perseverance which a child makes upon a grown person?Those little ones need the nourishment of love and praise, but such milkfor babes can come only from a mother's breast. I got none of it. On thecontrary, my dearly loved independence, my wild-wood life, where Naturehad become to me my nursing-mother, was exchanged for one of neverceasing supervision. "Little girls must learn to be useful," was thephrase that greeted my unwilling ears fifty times a day, which pursuedme through my daily round of dish-washings, floor-sweepings, bed-makingand potato-peeling, to overtake me at last in the very moment when Ihoped to reap the reward of my diligence in a free afternoon by theriver-side in the crotch of the water-maple that hung over the stream,clutching me and fastening me down to the hated square of patchwork,which bore, in the spots of red that defaced its white purity infollowing the line of my stitches, the marks of the wounds that myawkward hands inflicted on themselves with their tiny weapon.
A little plat of ground was hedged in with young Osage-orange shrubs,and within it one of the miners, who had formerly been an under-gardenerin a great house in Scotland, had already prepared some flower-beds andsodded carefully the little lawn, laying down the walks withbright-colored tan, which contrasted pleasantly with the lively greenof the grass. From the gate one might look up and down the road,bordered on one side by the trees that hung over the river, and on theother by the miners' houses, one-story cottages, each with its smallinclosure, and showing every degree of cultivation, from the neatvegetable-patch and whitewashed porch of the Scotch families to theneglected waste ground and slovenly potato-patch of the Irishmen. Therewere some Sandians among the hands, but they never could be made to takeone of the houses prepared for the miners. They lived back on thecreeks, generally on their own lands, raised their corn and tobacco, cuttheir lumber, and hunted or rode the country, taking jobs only when theyfelt so inclined, but showing themselves fully able to compete with thebest hands both in skill and in endurance, when they were willing towork.
Two hours' hard work saw everything in its place, the furniture arrangedto the best of my ability, but wanting, as I sorely felt, the touch of amistress's hand to give it a home-like look. I had done my best, butwhat did I know of the arrangement of a lady's house? I hardly knew theuse of half the things I touched. But I would not let my old spirit ofdiscontent creep over me now; so, betaking myself to the woods, whichwere full of the loveliest spring flowers, I brought back such aprofusion of violets, spring-beauties, and white bloodroot-blossoms,that the whole room was brightened with their beauty, while their faint,delicate perfume filled the air.
And so the weeks glided into months, and the months into years, and Iwas nineteen years old. Four years had passed since the morning whenGeorge Hammond first awakened my self-esteem, first gave me the impulseto raise myself out of my awkwardness and ignorance, to make of myselfsomething better than one of the worn, depressed, dispirited women I sawaround me. Had I done anything for myself? I asked. I was not educated,I had no acquirements, so-called; but I had read, and read well, somegood and famous books, and I knew that I had made their contents my own.I was richer for their beauties and excellences. With my self-respecthad come, too, a desire to improve my surroundings, and, as far as theylay under my control, they had been improved. Our household was moreorderly; some little attempt at neatness and decoration was to be seenaround and in the house, and my own room, where I had full sway, wasbeautiful in its rustic adornment. 2ff7e9595c
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