to go inside oor Kornies
to go inside
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to go inside
Ny vynnav ankevi henna.langbot langbot
You don't have to go inside.
Rych os ta.Tatoeba-2020.08 Tatoeba-2020.08
to go inside
Ni a dhallathas dhe hwegh eur.langbot langbot
You do not have to go inside.
Yma sehes dhymm.langbot langbot
You don't have to go inside.
Hi re ankovas hy glawlen yn kyttrin.langbot langbot
You don't have to go inside.
Kas yw genev an liw na.langbot langbot
to go inside
Ple’ma va?langbot langbot
to go inside
Ow thas yw.langbot langbot
You don't have to go inside.
Dha dro yw.langbot langbot
You don't have to go inside.
Res yw dhyn mos lemmyn.langbot langbot
to go inside
Ro dhymm an traow na.langbot langbot
You don't have to go inside.
“A vyn’ta hy frena?” “Mynnav.”langbot langbot
You do not have to go inside.
Goliys yw Tom.langbot langbot
to go inside
Da yw genev oberi.langbot langbot
“I’d like to get some food to them – to keep them going till relief comes. If it comes. Any ideas?” I expected that Paul would think this a dangerous, if not impossible, task to achieve. But, no. His response was as quick as it was matter-of-fact: “There’s a truck parked just to the North of the cemetery in Lygon Street, a refrigerated truck like they use to make deliveries to supermarkets. I saw it on the afternoon of day two, just before everything went black for me. The diesel engine was still idling at the time and the refrigeration unit was still running. No sign of any driver. The truck might still be there.” Amazing. “And full of food?” I asked. “Probably. I didn’t bother to check inside. Charles and I had already raided the gate-keeper’s house. We didn’t need more food at that time – and it wasn’t worth the risk of exposing ourselves by going out in the open. However, as you can see, I made a mental note of the vehicle for future reference.” “Will you come with me and David to check it out?” “Fuck off!” said Paul. “You don’t need me and, even if you did, I’m not yet that hungry.” There was nothing more to be said. I called out to David. He didn’t come. I needed to go inside to arouse him from his afternoon torpor. (Yes, I did kick him and, yes, he did complain loudly.) “Come on, Dave. We’ve got work to do.”
Onen, dew, tri, peswar, pymp, whegh, seyth, eth, naw, deg.langbot langbot
Honoured dear Sir, I'm ashamed to hear all which has been said. Take what there is now, another time you will have more. [Why not / When we] go to Newlyn, and drink something inside. Health to you now and after that too. For good people who aren't {tregelaz}, good things were done (to be seen)
Nyns ov dha vab.langbot langbot
We've know each other for so long Your heart's been achin' but you're too shy to say it Inside we both know what's been going on We know the game and we're gonna play it
Piw a skrifas an lyther?langbot langbot
The tents began to go up. There was a specially large pavilion, so big that the tree that grew in the field was right inside it, and stood proudly near one end, at the head of the chief table. Lanterns were hung on all its branches. More promising still (to the hobbits’ mind): an enormous open-air kitchen was erected in the north corner of the field. A draught of cooks, from every inn and eating-house for miles around, arrived to supplement the dwarves and other odd folk that were quartered at Bag End. Excitement rose to its height.
Ple’th esos ta?langbot langbot
We're no strangers to love You know the rules and so do I A full commitment's what I'm thinkin' of You wouldn't get this from any other guy I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling Gotta make you understand Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you We've know each other for so long Your heart's been achin' but you're too shy to say it Inside we both know what's been going on We know the game and we're gonna play it And if you ask me how I'm feeling Don't tell me you're too blind to see Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you (Give you up, give you up) Never gonna give, never gonna give (Give you up) Never gonna give, never gonna give (Give you up) We've know each other for so long Your heart's been achin' but you're too shy to say it Inside we both know what's been going on We know the game and we're gonna play it I just wanna tell you how I'm feelin' Gotta make you understand Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
Yw da gensi owravalow?langbot langbot
Marvellous! Hours of fun for the whole family. It made me proud to be a Roman Catholic. (I shouldn’t really be so disrespectful of the owners’ tastes in religious art. The little light in the basilica actually proved to be invaluable inside the otherwise gloomy crypt.) Anyway, there was no doubt as to the ancestry of the folk who had so generously provided my brother and me with this precious haven. And no expense had been spared, it seemed. In one of the niches, was a brand-new – and unoccupied – coffin of extreme grandeur and ornamentation. Whom was this waiting for? None could say since it did not yet bear a plaque. Given that it had obviously been made to order – and was of the highest specification – my guess was that it could only have been made for the (still-living?) patriarch or matriarch of the family. Just a guess, though. And, sure, there were plenty of other expensive fittings inside – including some which appeared to be made of gold and silver (or, at least, were plated with gold and silver) – but this wasn’t the most startling thing to me: it was the fact that the crypt had running water! There was no hot water, of course – let’s not get completely ridiculous – but there, in one dark corner of the room, sat a small water tap (with even a modest drain to catch any overflow). Why? Did the deceased family members get thirsty in the night and need to take a sip of water? I put this question to David – he was no help. I thought about this for a while – in the circumstances, there was nothing much else to do – then the obvious answer dawned on me. There were literally dozens of vases inside the crypt, mostly containing withered blooms. Who was going to lug water from outside to fill all these vessels on a regular basis? No-one would do it willingly. Far better to have the water piped in. Kinda sensible – in an extravagant sort of way. And now pretty handy for any living person – or even a zombie – who decided to move in!
Yeyn yw an gwyns hedhyw.langbot langbot
I banged three times on the inside of the truck walls – this had been my pre- arranged signal to Paul and Charles, who were still (relatively) safe inside the cab. I turned to the now-breathless Jude. “Time to shut up shop now, Jude. Dave can’t keep them at bay for much longer,” I said, breathless myself. “You can come back later – I’m leaving the truck. And, by the way, you’ve got guests.” Jude looked at me in amazement: “Guests?” Paul and Charles answered her question at that moment by tumbling from the truck’s roof – their fall broken by the human chains still working beneath them. Even “Royalty” decided to dispense with formal introductions and clambered over the members of the now-disintegrating chains, passing hurriedly through the library doors to comparative safety. At that moment, the zombie press broke through and snapping jaws appeared beneath the sills of the truck’s still-open rear doors. The human chain sounded the retreat and I pushed Jude roughly out of the cargo section of the truck. Her fall, too, was cushioned by the backs of the others. I jumped to the ground and slammed the refrigerated truck’s rear door firmly shut. (No sense in letting the warm air in, was there?) The diesel engine was still running – and so was the refrigeration unit – but for how long? I was abruptly seized by two of the closest zombies and, briefly wondered if my luck had run out. It hadn’t. The figure of David burst through (actually, over) the press and was swiftly at my side, beating at those who had seized me. He roared with renewed vigour – and, once again, the Earth seemed to shake. David had saved my life – again. Thanks, mate. Jude was the last of the Baillieu survivors to get back inside. She lingered at the open glass doors. “Pete!” she yelled. “Come back in.” This wasn’t going to happen – not without David.
Res yw dhymm mos ena.langbot langbot
‘Foiled again!’ he said to his wife. ‘And after waiting sixty years. Spoons? Fiddlesticks!’ He snapped his fingers under Frodo’s nose and slumped off. But Lobelia was not so easily got rid of. A little later Frodo came out of the study to see how things were going on and found her still about the place, investigating nooks and comers and tapping the floors. He escorted her firmly off the premises, after he had relieved her of several small (but rather valuable) articles that had somehow fallen inside her umbrella. Her face looked as if she was in the throes of thinking out a really crushing parting remark; but all she found to say, turning round on the step, was:
Sowsnek yw yeth an bys.langbot langbot
The doors to the main entrance of the Baillieu Library were glass, thick sliding doors. They were still intact – which was a little surprising – but reinforced by bookshelves, cupboards and now-redundant vending machines. The zombies were not going to gain entrance any time soon – though they loitered outside constantly – waiting and watching. Given the desperate situation of those inside the library – no food, no outside contact – I had recently come to believe that the zombies’ waiting would not be in vain. I stood in the barricaded foyer: my brother was unseen on the other side of the glass doors, a thing abandoned – but not by me. “Let me see him,” I snarled. Silently, one of my fellow survivors moved forward and removed a box from the barricade to reveal an observation hole. He stepped back and allowed me to view the prone form of David. He was unmoving – just as I thought, not yet reanimated. Good – it was not too late. I nodded to myself and turned slowly to the others who eyed me with suspicion: “Please leave me alone with him,” I whispered. “I need a moment alone with him.” They shuffled their feet uneasily and looked at one another. Was I now worth that risk? “I’ll not try and retrieve him,” I said reassuringly. “He is, as you say, ‘gone’ now. There would be no purpose in trying to get him back.” Jude locked eyes with me for a long moment. She saw no deception. “Come on,” she said to the others. “Let the guy have some dignity. David was his brother, after all.” And with that, she abruptly turned on her heel and left the barricaded foyer, the others reluctantly trailing behind her. Good.
Ny yll'ta neuvya.langbot langbot
“T’” I said. (This time, I couldn’t even get the first word out – but the nurse understood my meaning well enough.) The short version was this: Ingrid and the Captain had burst into the infirmary late last night, furiously screaming and yelling at each other – their three confused goons in tow. I was on a hospital trolley, nine parts dead. Apparently, Ingrid had repeatedly called the Captain an ‘insane murderer’ – to which the Captain had, equally repeatedly, responded: “That’s insubordination, Doctor. I am your superior officer. You have assaulted me. You have disobeyed my direct order. I will have you court-martialled. I will! You can count on it.” (Or something along those lines.) This unseemly screaming match had apparently gone on for half an hour or more – during which time the nursing staff had quietly spirited me away and taken charge. They made sure that the spark of life within me had kept glowing until a doctor – i.e. some other doctor – could attend to me. The nurses had kept me going. But, according to the nurse attending me, it was not they who had revived me in the first place. According to the nurse, the ‘direct order’ that Ingrid had disobeyed was to leave me inside the decompression chamber after all signs of life had disappeared. It seems she had forcibly shoved Dr Mengele aside, rapidly opened the decompression chamber, dragged out my lifeless form – and successfully performed CPR on me. Hmm. Most curious behaviour. I still did not know what David had been doing all this time but hoped that I would find out – when I stopped feeling like complete shit. The raking coughing fits slowed a little and the nurse gave me some pain relief. I believe I slept for a time. When next I awoke, Ingrid was standing beside my bed, checking my charts. I supposed I ought to have thanked her because, despite all the abject cruelty in which she had participated, in the final analysis, she had saved my miserable neck.
Lowen ov.langbot langbot
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