Ag Day Quotes

Little blossom in peach and red Trapping boys with your pretty head; Tease and play, be coy and smart For you will one day break his heart

Morpheus reaches out to catch a teardrop on his fingertip. He holds it up in the pale glow that radiates from the few remaining sprites above us. A curious frown curves his lips. “You cry for him yet bled for me. One must wonder which is more powerful. More binding. I suppose we shall one day know.

One thing more: Wonderland and I are the same. You love one of us, you love the other. You are Wonderland, too. Which means we are the perfect fit, in more ways than you can even imagine. On our day together, I’ll take great pleasure in showing you all of them.

Shh." I squeeze his hand. His palm feels clammy. "We have to keep it down, okay? We don't want my dad coming in." He grits his teeth against more shivers. "Always knew I'd end up in your bed . . . and hear you say those words one day." He manages a smirk. Jeb snarls. "Unbelievable. Even when he's at death's door he's a tool." He arranges a pillow beneath Morpheus's neck. "Why don't you keep your mouth shut while we help you." Morpheus laughs weakly, his skin flashing with blue light. "What say Alyssa"--his breath rattles--"give my mouth something else to do?

He already has my nights. I won’t let him take my days, too.

Shh." I squeeze his hand. His palm feels clammy. "We have to try to keep it down, okay? We don't want my dad coming in." He grits his teeth against more shivers. "Always knew I'd end up in your bed...and hear you say those words one day." He manages a smirk.

Q: Bigfoot, when my Guinea pig wake up? Parents say he sleeping in box in ground in bakc garden. Suzie, Ag 9, Toronto, Canada A: Actually Suzie Guinea pig dead and Bigfoot already dig up and eat. If want back Bigfoot probably poop out bones and fur ni day or so. Very delicious, raise him right, he taste like love.

Life is a test we take every day. You must focus. You must be there for them when they need you.

Yet he’s still scared. What is he afraid of?” “Same thing every powerful man is afraid of.” The Crone shrugs. “The day the truth comes out.” “The day he gets what’s coming,” says the Maiden. The Mother meets Agnes’s eyes and Juniper sees something pass between them, the gleam of a tossed blade. “Us.

That was the key to survival—doing better tomorrow than you did today. Getting up every day and improving.

Morpheus tilts his head to meet my gaze from behind the frame. “Aw, shy little blossom. You should’ve seen the atrocities he tried to put me in those first few days. He didn’t let me have a say until I walked around naked for a few hours. Should you decide to employ that strategy, I’ll be behind you one hundred percent. Or in front of you. Lady’s choice.” He winks.

One day, I'll bring dreams to our kind, Father. They'll be in abundance everywhere, not just in the cemetery. One day, I'll free the spirits, so they can sleep inside our gardens, brushing our winddows at night, and bumping against our feet in the day. I'll bring imagination to our world so everyone might always be with those they treasure.

We talk and tease and bargain with the main dish. Maniacal laughter echoes in the marble halls, sweet to my ears. There’s movement at the banquet hall’s entrance. A child with my eyes tumbles in—all wings and blue hair and giggling innocence. Holding his hand is Morpheus, wearing a ruby crown. The Red King. My king. The bubble bursts and takes the vision with it, leaving nothing but the sound of my gasp and wisps of gray smoke behind. “You see,” Ivory says, “once Morpheus knew that one day you would belong to him and he to you, that you would share a child, he was no longer willing to die to save Wonderland. But he’s insecure about your feelings for him. He feared you would refuse to help. So he made a new plan, however flawed it was.

What is he afraid of?” “Same thing every powerful man is afraid of.” The Crone shrugs. “The day the truth comes out.” “The day he gets what’s coming,” says the Maiden. The Mother meets Agnes’s eyes and Juniper sees something pass between them, the gleam of a tossed blade. “Us.

Well, I know what you feel for Jeb. And it’s simple and pure. You two have been friends since the day you met. And it grew into something more. That’s a tangible thing, Butterfly. And so rare. The best kind of love.

La vita è adesso. Non dopo il liceo. Non dopo il college. È in questo momento. Ci sta scorrendo davanti agli occhi.

It was insane how his love made her relish her youth more than ever. But then again that day she felt very old for the same reason.

One day...", her eyes mumbled. "One day.",his eyes assured. "Right now", their lips yelled.

Mental work is like a vitamin a person needs every day. A muscle that otherwise atrophies with disuse.

Dream big, work hard, live forever—that’s the promise we held out to the world that day.

I remember the first time I ever saw you, the day you came. L.J. and I were so excited about this new person that came into the family like a storm blowing over the Bradshaw’s. We’d never seen a Negro before.

David had spent the last fourteen days, while Kate was away, learning how to operate the ship’s systems. He was still learning them. Kate had enabled the voice command routines to help with any commands David couldn’t figure out.

Andy Masen was the Maine Attorney General's Wunderkind, and there were those who said that someday--and not too distant a day, either--he would lead the A.G.'s criminal division. Andy Masen's sights were set a good deal higher than that. He hoped to be Attorney General himself in 1984, and in a position to run for Governor by 1987. And after eight years as Governor, who knew?

David had spent the last fourteen days, while Kate was away, learning how to operate the ship’s systems. He was still learning them. Kate had enabled the voice command routines to help with any commands David couldn’t figure out. “Alpha, what is Dr. Warner’s location?” David asked. The disembodied computer voice of the Alpha Lander boomed into the small room. “That information is classified.” “Why?” “You are not a senior member of the research staff.

Jeb moans, wraps my legs around his waist, and holds me tight. He breaks contact just long enough to whisper, "Where'd you learn to kiss like that?" "You taught me." I recover my senses and realize what I said. "In my dreams." "Oh, yeah?" He nudges the indentation on my chin with his nose. "Been dreaming of me, too, huh?" "Ever since the day we met." Finally, the truth. He flashes his dimples. "Guess it's time for us to make some dreams come true, skater girl.

If'n I was ye,I'd do nothin' else but hunt." "I've no doubt you'd do just that, for a more lazy individual I've yet to meet-other than myself,of course." Shelton beamed. "Thank ye,me lord! 'Tis a rare day I can consider meself an equal with ye on any grounds." "You're welcome," Dougal returned gravely. "Aye,ye've made bein' lazy a form o' art that few-look!" The groom pointed eagerly at the soft shoulder of the road, where a fox print appeared. "Cooee,looks fresh, too!" Dougal eyed the thicket beyond. "Fresh or no, it would take a better man than me to get a horse over this uneven ground without breaking a leg." Shelton shot him a sharp look. "Ye're many things,me lord, but unskilled on a horse ain't one of 'em." "You unman me, Shelton. I don't know how to react to such excessive praise." The groom's expression turned to one of long suffering. "There ye go ag'in with the nonsense, me lord. Are ye sure ye ain't a bit Irish?" Dougal grinned. "Not that my mother would admit to.

Self-Management If you can read just one book on motivation—yours and others: Dan Pink, Drive If you can read just one book on building new habits: Charles Duhigg, The Power of Habit If you can read just one book on harnessing neuroscience for personal change: Dan Siegel, Mindsight If you can read just one book on deep personal change: Lisa Lahey and Bob Kegan, Immunity to Change If you can read just one book on resilience: Seth Godin, The Dip Organizational Change If you can read just one book on how organizational change really works: Chip and Dan Heath, Switch If you can read just two books on understanding that change is a complex system: Frederic Laloux, Reinventing Organizations Dan Pontefract, Flat Army Hear interviews with FREDERIC LALOUX, DAN PONTEFRACT, and JERRY STERNIN at the Great Work Podcast. If you can read just one book on using structure to change behaviours: Atul Gawande, The Checklist Manifesto If you can read just one book on how to amplify the good: Richard Pascale, Jerry Sternin and Monique Sternin, The Power of Positive Deviance If you can read just one book on increasing your impact within organizations: Peter Block, Flawless Consulting Other Cool Stuff If you can read just one book on being strategic: Roger Martin and A.G. Lafley, Playing to Win If you can read just one book on scaling up your impact: Bob Sutton and Huggy Rao, Scaling Up Excellence If you can read just one book on being more helpful: Edgar Schein, Helping Hear interviews with ROGER MARTIN, BOB SUTTON, and WARREN BERGER at the Great Work Podcast. If you can read just two books on the great questions: Warren Berger, A More Beautiful Question Dorothy Strachan, Making Questions Work If you can read just one book on creating learning that sticks: Peter Brown, Henry Roediger and Mark McDaniel, Make It Stick If you can read just one book on why you should appreciate and marvel at every day, every moment: Bill Bryson, A Short History of Nearly Everything If you can read just one book that saves lives while increasing impact: Michael Bungay Stanier, ed., End Malaria (All money goes to Malaria No More; about $400,000 has been raised so far.) IF THERE ARE NO STUPID QUESTIONS, THEN WHAT KIND OF QUESTIONS DO STUPID PEOPLE ASK?

“Shh.” I squeeze his hand. His palm feels clammy. “We have to try to keep it down, okay? We don’t want my dad coming in.” He grits his teeth against more shivers. “Always knew I’d end up in your bed … and hear you say those words one day.” He manages a smirk. Jeb snarls. “Unbelievable. Even when he’s at death’s door he’s a tool.” He arranges a pillow beneath Morpheus’s neck. “Why don’t you keep your mouth shut while we help you.” Morpheus laughs weakly, his skin flashing with blue light. “What say Alyssa” —his breath rattles— “gives my mouth something else to do?”

Lying there in silence, Elim thought about how quickly a person’s fate could change, how precious life and health are. He had walked into this very room two days ago as a practicing physician, a man in control, with the power to heal, looking down on the sick American on the same bed where he himself now lay. He had never known just how different the world looked from the other side. He vowed that if he became well, he would cherish every day. And although he had never wished ill health on another person, there and then he wondered if every physician might benefit from being sick—really sick—just once. He wondered if it would make them all care a little more, or work a little harder, to have been on the other side for a while—to have placed their life and livelihood in the hands of a stranger, even if for only a short period. He had considered himself a very conscientious physician before this, but he imagined that if he lived, he would be even more dedicated to his patients. Staring at the ceiling, he was reminded of an old Indian proverb: A healthy person has a hundred wishes, but a sick person has only one.

Agnes, who had once thought days existed merely for identification purposes, temporal name-tags to facilitate social confluence, came to know each one as a prisoner does her jailers. Of course Monday was the worst, a jack-booted Nazi of a day; people did suicidal things on Mondays, like start diets and watch documentaries. Fear of Monday also tended to ruin Sunday, an invasion which Agnes resented deeply. Moreover, it made her suspicious of Tuesday; a day whose unrelenting tedium was deceptively camouflaged by the mere fact of its not being Monday. Wednesday, on the other hand, was touch and go, delicately balanced between the memory of the last weekend and the thought of the weekend to come. Wednesday was a plateau and dangerous things could happen on plateaux. For example, one could forget one was in prison at all. Thursday was Agnes’s favourite, a day dedicated to pure anticipation. By then she was on the home stretch, sprinting in glorious slow-motion towards the distant flutter of Friday’s finishing line; which, however, when reached, often felt to her like nothing but a memento mori of the next incarceration.

with his daughter.” “Incest?” Rainie looked at Quincy incredulously. “Jesus, SupSpAg, how do you sleep with that mind?” “I can’t be sure,” Quincy said modestly, “but it has all the classic signs. Domineering father alone with his young daughter for the first thirteen years of her life. Seems very doting on the outside. I’m sure if you conducted further interviews you’d find plenty of neighbors and teachers telling you how ‘close’ Mr. Avalon and his daughter were. How ‘involved’ he was in her life. But then she hits puberty and the jig is up. To continue risks pregnancy, plus she’s starting to get a woman’s body, and many of these men aren’t interested in that. So Mr. Avalon goes ahead and takes a wife, some poor, passive woman to serve as window dressing and help him appear suitable to the outside world. Now he clings to the fantasy of what he once had. And protects it jealously.” “Does Mr. Avalon have access to a computer?” Rainie asked Luke. “In his office.” She turned to Quincy. “If Mr. Avalon was involved with his daughter, would he have problems with her relationship with VanderZanden?” “He’ll have problems with any of her relationships. In his mind, she’s his.” “That’s it then. He found out, got angry—” “And got an alibi,” Luke interrupted flatly. They looked at him sharply. He was nearly apologetic. “I tried, Rainie. I stayed in town till eleven last night trying to break this guy’s story. I’ve probably pissed off every blue blood in the city and it still holds. Mr. Avalon was in a business meeting all day Tuesday. His secretary swears

The past you lost is just like a dream. As you woke up new life starts. So, your actual birthday will be your death day.

Chapter 51 In Atlanta, the day had gone mostly as Elliott had expected. The stock market crash had rattled everyone. It was a cloud that hung over the euphoria of Black Friday. The most difficult part of his plan had been convincing the other five families to pool their money with his for the purchases, which together added up to hundreds of thousands of dollars. They had begun by renting two twenty-six-foot U-Haul trucks. They drove them to Costco and filled them with survival necessities. It was mostly food; Elliott planned to be near a freshwater source if worst came to worst. Next, they purchased two high-end RVs. The price was exorbitant, but they carried a thirty-day money-back guarantee, and they only had to make a down payment—the remainder was financed. Elliott had assured his neighbors that within thirty days, they would either be incredibly glad to have the two homes on wheels—or they’d have their money back. Now he sat in his study, watching the news, waiting for the event he believed would come. He hoped he was wrong. DAY 7 900,000,000 Infected 180,000 Dead

Families belong together, Julian. My family will stay together. From this day forward... From this day forward, we will never be parted

enforcement more broadly including a list of names that had been seen as prying into activities of the Trump administration including: James Comey, James Clapper, NSA Director Michael Hayden, Susan Rice, former FBI members Lisa Page and Peter Strozk, former Deputy A.G. Sally Yates, former FBI Deputy Director Andrew McCabe (who had already lost his security clearance when he was fired by Trump earlier in the year) and the DOJ's Bruce Ohr who had been recently demoted.

Sollevandolo al di sopra delle sue capacità, condusse il paese a riconoscersi nella sua parte migliore, cancellando l'immagine che il mondo s'era fatto di un'America vecchia, fatta di uomini vecchi, stanchi, finiti, che avevano paura delle idee, dei mutamenti e del futuro; egli insegnò all'umanità che la riscoperta dell'America non era compiuta e rifondò la repubblica americana così come l'avevano concepita la generazione dei suoi primi leader, un'America giovane, impavida, civile, razione, vivace, forte, aperta, sensibile agli stimoli e alle prospettive della storia.

The reporting machine purred intimately, 'Who do you feel is responsible for the passage of the McPhearson Act and der Alte's willingness to sign it into law?' 'You know who,' Dr Superb said, 'and so do I. Not the army and not Nicole and not even the NP. It's the great ethical pharmaceutical house, the cartel A.G. Chemie, in Berlin.' Everyone knew that; it was hardly news. The powerful German cartel had sold the world on the notion of drug-therapy for mental illness; there was a fortune to be made, there. And by corollary, psychoanalysts were quacks, on a par with orgone box and health food healers. It was not like the old days, the previous century, when psychoanalysts had had stature. Dr Superb sighed.

This I know: two things are important in life. The choices you make. And the people you meet. You don’t think so when you’re young, but you’ll know the truth one day: every day of your life is nothing more than a series of choices. Streets you can’t see. Sometimes you take the wrong road.” He

lived with for so long they’ve stopped trying to fight them. Imagine a world where hate is spewed online and in person every minute of every day. Imagine a world where politicians gain power by setting us against each other. Consider a world where hunger and disease are so common people accept it, where only a small percentage are trying to end it.” Ty let those words sink in. “I know that world exists, because I was raised in that world,

Tonight, they are evil. Tomorrow, they are survivors. The next day? They are visionaries.

Do not pray for easy lives; pray to be stronger men Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers Pray for powers equal to your tasks Then the doing of your work shall be no miracle But you shall be a miracle.

How long?” The scientist exhaled. “A day, maybe two.

Forgive me, Mrs. Patterson, but I find I’m not quite desperate enough to hire Miss Longfellow. I have been given the responsibility of three children. With that responsibility comes the expectation that I will keep them alive until they reach adulthood. Putting Miss Longfellow in charge of them is truly not the best way for me to achieve the whole keeping-them-alive part of my plan.” “I never realized you were possessed of such a melodramatic nature, Mr. Mulberry,” Mrs. Patterson began. “But while I sympathize slightly with your plight, knowing you never expected to have three children dropped off on your doorstep, I’m afraid you’ve run out of options. Your wards’ reputations precede them, and no one wants to work for you, with the exception of Miss Longfellow.” Miss Longfellow suddenly rose to her feet and lifted her chin. “I find I no longer have any desire to work for Mr. Mulberry.” Mrs. Patterson waved Miss Longfellow’s protest aside. “Of course you do, dear. Why, he pays top dollar, and you’ll get to spend your summer in Newport. It’s the place to summer these days, and I’ve heard Mr. Mulberry has one of the most impressive cottages there.” She smiled. “It faces the ocean.” “Which is exactly why I won’t be taking Miss Longfellow with me to Newport,” Everett argued. “She’ll either drown the children by tossing them into the waves to assess their swimming abilities, or drown herself in the process, leaving me short a nanny once ag—” “I wouldn’t work for you even if you offered me two thousand dollars, begged me on bended knee, and brought me flowers.” Miss Longfellow turned her attention to Mrs. Patterson. “If you come across a family other than Mr. Mulberry’s who could use my services, I may be reached at Mrs. Hart’s residence in Washington Square.” With

Shh." I squeeze his hand. His palm feels clammy. "We have to keep it down, okay? We don't want my dad coming in." He grits his teeth against more shivers. "Always knew I'd end up in your bed . . . and hear you say those words one day." He manages a smirk. Jeb snarls. "Unbelievable. Even when he's at death's door he's a tool." He arranges a pillow beneath Morpheus's neck. "Why don't you keep your mouth shut while we help you." Morpheus laughs weakly, his skin flashing with blue light. "What say Alyssa"--his breath rattles--"give my mouth something else to do?” -Alyssa, Morpheus,&Jeb

One day, I'll bring dreams to our kind, Father. They'll be in abundance everywhere, not just in the cemetery. One day, I'll free the spirits, so they can sleep inside our gardens, brushing our windows at night, and bumping against our feet in the day. I'll bring imagination to our world so everyone might always be with those they treasure.

Aspirations can be refined and revised over time. However, aspirations shouldn't change day to day; they exist to consistently align activities within the firm, so should be designed to last for some time.

You did not see God. You did not perceive the Lord, Israel, You did not recognize the first-born of God, Begotten before the morning star, Who adorned the light, Who lit up the day, Who divided the darkness, Who fixed the first boundary, Who hung the earth, Who tamed the abyss, Who stretched out the firmament, Who furnished the world, Who arranged the stars in the heavens, Who lit up the great lights, Who made the angels in heaven, Who there established thrones,

To this day I believe a person’s ideal first job is the one that reveals the most about them. Knowing who I was helped me avoid a lot of dead ends in life. A lot of opportunities look good, but I’ve found that sometimes success and happiness are about knowing when to say no.

The rest of that summer in Normandy was wet. They fought their way from hedgerow to hedgerow from Caumont to St.-Lo. By the time they walked through the rubble that was left there were only four of them from the original squad, Jack, Saul, Casey, and Victor Sanchez. During August the battle for Normandy was over and a few days later Paris was liberated but the Bloody First was already heading towards Belgium and the Siegfried Line.

I’m getting stronger. Slowly. Every day it’s a little easier to breathe, a little easier to stand. And I can walk for longer. They say it will take years for me to regain my full strength. I may have to use a walker for the rest of my life.

The human genome hasn’t changed much, but our brains operate very differently than they did a hundred years ago. We process information faster. We spend our days reading email, watching TV, devouring information on the internet, glued to our smartphones. We know lifestyle, diet, and even stress can affect gene activation, and that has a direct effect on how pathogens influence us. This moment in our development is exactly what whoever designed the Atlantis Plague has been waiting for. It’s like the plague was engineered for this moment in time, for the human brain to reach a maturation point where it could be used.

Nothing better illustrates the limits of the consumer model of change in the face of monopolized markets than the extraordinary success of the local, slow-food, organic agriculture movement and its simultaneous failure to make a meaningful dent in the way food is created. About 75% of all Americans try to eat local, organic food, and one survey showed that nearly 90% of people want locally grown food at the grocery store and would consider that as part of their shopping decision. As Stacy Mitchell, who runs the Institute for Local Self-Reliance, points out: 'The local food movement has gone farther than any other [consumer] movement in terms of widespread adoption...' Despite the health food movement's unmitigated success, and the fact that food is where people have the peak amount of leverage - they can buy or not buy, or 'vote with their pocketbook,' three times a day - only 5% of all farms are organic, and only 0.3% of total farm sales are direct-to-consumer sales. Monsanto may be widely reviled, yet Monsanto's power keeps rising. Consumer choice simply cannot get us a to a world where most farmers and farmworkers are treated better.

I used the most important question in strategy—what would have to be true?—to build an entirely new methodology for thinking through choices. It became the heart of my consulting practice and is the only strategy process I use to this day.

There’s something about coming home at the end of a hard day of work, of being proud of what you’ve done, and feeling like you’re part of something.

There was that class on escaping from tubes in one-million-year-old structures, but he had missed that day.

The data archive from Earth contains every work ever published, and free access to that is a dream come true for some of the colonists, people whose only desire is a quiet corner of the universe where they can do an honest day’s work and read themselves to sleep.

around her child which means someone else had to open it. Now start it slowly and see which part of her body comes out first.” They watched as the young woman’s upper body came out of the doorway followed by her legs. Sgt. Daniel said, “She was pushed. If she had come through on her own, her leg would have come out first.” “I guess that explains it.” AG said, “Explains what?” Lt. Bates brought the view in closer to the young woman’s face just before she was shot and said, “That is the Black Witches Daughter and Grand-child. They did this to make her what she’s become.” Daniels shook his head, “Those are really evil devils. Colonel Van Bao led that attack. I guess now we know why someone of his rank was designated to do it.” AG said, “Who is the Black Witch?” Lt. Bates sighed, “She’s used to draw our troops into ambushes. When Charlie captures any of our troops, they’ll turn them over to the Black Witch to do her magic. She holds them outside our bases and announces all day that she is going to kill them slowly that night. She then starts torturing them by cutting pieces off and burning their extremities. They always die slowly and screaming at the top of their voices. Their suffering is what pulls our troops out to try and save them. Waiting for them is a specially trained battalion setup to ambush anyone that attempts a rescue. We’ve learned that to go after our captured soldiers is suicide. Even if we managed to get close, she would just shoot the captives in the head before she escapes. She is one sadistic bitch.” AG slowly shook her head, “She blames us for what happened.” Bates nodded, “She certainly does and she names the toes she cuts off after her daughter and grand-child.” Daniels

And then the shock she helped give the world: Absolom. It wasn’t the announcement of Absolom that changed the world. It was when they saw its power. That day was a Saturday in November. Adeline thought the government had selected a weekend for the first departure for several reasons. The most important was so that the world could watch. They told the press it was so the victims’ families could be present to witness the sentence carried out. That morning, those families stood in the viewing booth, mothers and fathers and their children—at least, the children the man in the Absolom chamber hadn’t taken from them. He stared at his victims’ families with hate-filled eyes. That fire vanished as the machine began to vibrate. Fear took its place. He opened his mouth and screamed, but no one could hear it. A flash filled the chamber, and he was gone. So was the world before. Overnight, crime rates plummeted. Adeline had always heard the saying that the devil you know is better than the one you don’t. That’s what Absolom was to the world: a new devil. Prison was a known. So was the death penalty. They were the devils the world knew. Conceptually, the world knew what Absolom was: a box that sent a person to the past, in an alternate universe. What they didn’t know was what truly happened there. Exile was certain. A lonely death was certain. But how? An exotic disease? Starvation? Being torn apart by an animal? In the absence of certainty, a mind tends to imagine the worst. That’s what Absolom became to the world. The phrase “A fate worse than Absolom” quickly supplanted its predecessor: “A fate worse than death.” Before the first departure, the Absolom machine had been an idea. In those small moments as it hummed to life, the world saw something else: a person who was pure evil, with hate in his heart, instantly hollowed out, gutted, cowering with fear, and then, gone. In an instant, they saw evil wiped from existence.

The supply ship Antares (AG-10) was inbound to Pearl Harbor, heading toward the submarine nets protecting the entrance channel. Between Antares and the barge it was towing, Captain Outerbridge made out the unmistakable silhouette of the conning tower and periscope of an unknown submarine. There was no doubt in his mind that this was an intruder intent on following Antares through the open submarine nets and into the harbor. Outerbridge called for speed and ordered a turn toward the target as the Ward surged to twenty knots. At 6:45 a.m. the destroyer fired two shots from its four-inch guns. The first passed directly over the submarine’s conning tower and missed. The second hit the submarine at the waterline between the conning tower and its hull. As the Ward’s action report later characterized it, “This was a square positive hit.” The target heeled over to starboard and appeared to slow and sink, drifting into a tightly spaced salvo of depth charges set for 100 feet that the Ward dropped as it crossed the submarine’s bow. Outerbridge couldn’t be certain, but a large oil slick on the surface after the depth charges exploded indicated that his quarry had likely sunk. He radioed a voice transmission saying the Ward had “dropped depth charges upon subs,” but two minutes later, fearing that the report might be taken merely as one more in a long line of sketchy contacts, Outerbridge made clear that this had been no illusion: “We have attacked, fired upon, and dropped depth charges on a submarine operating in defensive sea area,” he radioed. Seconds later, just to be certain his information had been received, Outerbridge queried, “Did you get that last message?” The answer was yes, and the report made its way up the chain of command, reaching Admiral Kimmel about forty minutes later. Like others who’d relayed the message, Kimmel was skeptical. “I was not at all certain that this was a real attack,” he later told investigators. It would take sixty years before a Japanese midget submarine was discovered in some twelve hundred feet of water with a hole in its conning tower—evidence that Outerbridge and the Ward had indeed inflicted the first casualties of the day.4

Imagine a world where hate is spewed online and in person every minute of every day. Imagine a world where politicians gain power by setting us against each other. Consider a world where hunger and disease are so common people accept it, where only a small percentage are trying to end it.

This I know: two things are important in life. The choices you make. And the people you meet. You don’t think so when you’re young, but you’ll know the truth one day: every day of your life is nothing more than a series of choices. Streets you can’t see. Sometimes you take the wrong road.

Agnes’s

doom. The fading sunlight only accentuates it. Up ahead, a tall chain-link fence surrounds the factory. A security guard clears us and motions us forward to the main building. It’s absolutely massive. It reminds me of a giant warehouse, a thousand feet wide and seemingly with no end. Workers bustle about, focused on building the new ship’s modules. I look up at the high ceiling above us. “The building provides cover?” “Yeah. There are several decoys nearby. Basically, empty buildings, but identical. We even send people to each one every day to complete the charade, just in case they attack.

Mark my words: one day, cable will be gone. So will satellite. You’ll walk into Circuit City and you’ll buy a TV that’s internet-ready.

Life is a test we take every day. You must focus.

He pictured the smile he would have drawn on her lips had she read his words, had her heart kept on beating for one more day. He was perching on the edge of his town jetty thinking about the memories he had with her there, as a droplet of his tears became indistinguishable amongst the ocean of water beneath his feat.

I don’t know if the world we’re returning to has gotten back to normal—in fact, maybe normal will never be the way it was. Maybe normal is something new. But as I look out, I’m hopeful that our new normal will take place in the light of day.

Millen was excited. To some degree, he had been training for this day his entire life. He was the son of Indian immigrants to America, and they had encouraged him to explore all his affinities as a child. He had gone through a number of phases, everything from music to dance. But he had always come back to his first love: animals. He was awestruck with the diversity and complexity of the creatures that shared the world with humans. He loved how unpredictable they were, how each species seemed to have a special ability. Seeing a new animal, interacting with it, never got old.