Aha Quotes

Aha! So I’m not crazy.” “You are most definitely crazy,” Derek said. “But in a deranged, endearing way.

There'a a phrase, "the elephant in the living room", which purports to describe what it's like to live with a drug addict, an alcoholic, an abuser. People outside such relationships will sometimes ask, "How could you let such a business go on for so many years? Didn't you see the elephant in the living room?" And it's so hard for anyone living in a more normal situation to understand the answer that comes closest to the truth; "I'm sorry, but it was there when I moved in. I didn't know it was an elephant; I thought it was part of the furniture." There comes an aha-moment for some folks - the lucky ones - when they suddenly recognize the difference.

Aha!" Lassiter pointed at the boob tube. "You motherfucker! I knew you were the father!

Andrea: "....I think a dog is a great idea. I just never pictured you with a mutant poodle.” Kate: “He isn’t a poodle. He’s a Doberman mix." Andrea: “Aha. Keep telling yourself that.

One school of thought says that the best way to handle an issue like this is exposure therapy," Mad Rogan said. "For example, if you're terrified of snakes, repeated handling of them will cure it." Aha. "I'm not handling your snake.

Aha," Andrea said. "I'm going to ignore that you just referred to yourself as 'sugar woogums'.

It costs me never a stab nor squirm / To tread by chance upon a worm. / Aha, my little dear, / I say, Your clan will pay me back one day.

Aha! What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!

Aha! Today I shall become an author! And I will auth and auth and auth and make a squillion dollars, whoopee!

Ne vredi nam brinuti deco... Sve je to zapisano tamo negde gore u zvezdama...Aha... Samo je rukopis malo necitak? Kljuc je u nasim snovima. Snovi su ti cudesni rezervoari nasih buducnosti

You know you're doing what you love when Sunday nights feel the same as Friday nights....

Blessed are those with cracks in their broken heart because that is how the light gets in.

Aha, Yury, I wonder if they are getting more US military. I am very anxious to get the recording. We want to know what is taking place between these Americans and Iraqis.

It's not a loup cage, you know,' I told her. 'It's a holding cell. Or safe room. or secure room. I don't think Jim ever settled on a term he could live with.' 'Aha. It's a loup cage.' Andrea cleared her throat. 'I touched it with my finger and it hurt. Is that in case of marital problems?

Once upon a time, there was a king who ruled a great and glorious nation. Favourite amongst his subjects was the court painter of whom he was very proud. Everybody agreed this wizzened old man pianted the greatest pictures in the whole kingdom and the king would spend hours each day gazing at them in wonder. However, one day a dirty and dishevelled stranger presented himself at the court claiming that in fact he was the greatest painter in the land. The indignant king decreed a competition would be held between the two artists, confident it would teach the vagabond an embarrassing lesson. Within a month they were both to produce a masterpiece that would out do the other. After thirty days of working feverishly day and night, both artists were ready. They placed their paintings, each hidden by a cloth, on easels in the great hall of the castle. As a large crowd gathered, the king ordered the cloth be pulled first from the court artist’s easel. Everyone gasped as before them was revealed a wonderful oil painting of a table set with a feast. At its centre was an ornate bowl full of exotic fruits glistening moistly in the dawn light. As the crowd gazed admiringly, a sparrow perched high up on the rafters of the hall swooped down and hungrily tried to snatch one of the grapes from the painted bowl only to hit the canvas and fall down dead with shock at the feet of the king. ’Aha!’ exclaimed the king. ’My artist has produced a painting so wonderful it has fooled nature herself, surely you must agree that he is the greatest painter who ever lived!’ But the vagabond said nothing and stared solemnly at his feet. ’Now, pull the blanket from your painting and let us see what you have for us,’ cried the king. But the tramp remained motionless and said nothing. Growing impatient, the king stepped forward and reached out to grab the blanket only to freeze in horror at the last moment. ’You see,’ said the tramp quietly, ’there is no blanket covering the painting. This is actually just a painting of a cloth covering a painting. And whereas your famous artist is content to fool nature, I’ve made the king of the whole country look like a clueless little twat.

Sometimes being real means allowing pain or accepting a painful truth. Yet something in us aligns with an inner ground of authenticity when we are real. We love it because of its inherent rightness in our soul, the sense of “Aha, here I am and there is nothing to do but be.

AHA!" interrupted Officer Shrift, making another note in his little book. "Just as I thought: boys are the cause of everything.

It's like an emotional dance party: Some dances will be your favorites -- others more awkward or difficult to learn. Some will be boring or make you mad. some you will wish you never needed to do again. But AHA! You think. I will dance all the dances I can.

My point is, I would never hurt you or your family.” I raised my chin at him. “If you tried to hurt my mother, I would totally kick your ass.” “Aha.” “Yes. You would be lying on the ground, crying, ‘No more, no more,’ and I would be kicking you in the stomach, wham, wham, wham!” He laughed softly.

Marijuana enhances our mind in a way that enables us to take a different perspective from 'high up', to see and evaluate our own lives and the lives of others in a privileged way. Maybe this euphoric and elevating feeling of the ability to step outside the box and to look at life’s patterns from this high perspective is the inspiration behind the slang term “high” itself.

AHA!” screamed a voice from overhead . . . Peeves was hanging upside down from a chandelier and grinning maliciously at them. “Potty asked Loony to go to the party! Potty lurves Loony! Potty luuuuurves Looooooony!” And he zoomed away, cackling and shrieking, “Potty loves Loony!

One look at Rebecca and Aunt B would have an instant apoplexy. Raphael’s eyebrows furrowed. “My mother’s approval isn’t necessary.” Aha. “Does she know that?

I still couldn’t stop the sick feeling rising in my stomach. “This could be a disaster.” “How? If anyone even finds it—and it’s not just sitting under a table right now—they’ll just have a good laugh at our sappy talk. No one’s going to be like, ‘Aha! Proof of an illicit human-and-vampire affair.

Tiffany read the sign and smiled. “Aha,” she said. There was nothing to knock on, so she added “Knock, knock” in a louder voice. A woman’s voice from within said: “Who’s there?” “Tiffany,” said Tiffany. “Tiffany who?” said the voice. “Tiffany who isn’t trying to make a joke.

Aha!" My chaperone looked at me like I should aha! back, but all I could manage was a quiet "ah." I made a note to ha later.

The Aha! experience is much more satisfying when it's preceded by the huh experience.

Did I really get sauce all over my face?” He shakes his head. “No. I just like dabbing girls’ faces with napkins. It’s a fetish of mine. Don’t worry—my shrink says it’s harmless.” Laughing, I pick up my own napkin and wipe the sauce from his forehead. “Aha, you have the same fetish,” Noah says, laughing. “I told you we had lots in common.

Julie marched over to Matt. She stood in front of him and crossed her arms. “Lift up your sweatshirt.” Matt rolled his eyes. “God, you really know how to turn a guy on.” Julie didn’t budge. “If I was trying to turn you on, I could do better than that. Now, lift up your sweatshirt.” Matt looked up at her and tried to look serious. “Julie, I’m completely offended that you have so little faith in my honesty. I thought at this point in our friendship that you would at least—” “Get up.” Julie leaned over and shut his laptop. “Get up!” she said again. “You’re being ridiculous,” Matt said laughing, but he stood up. “I trust you implicitly, and it wouldn’t kill you to show me the same respect.” “Show me!” Matt sidestepped the chair and took a few steps backward. “You have quite the attitude today. Suspicious and mean.” Julie took a step forward, causing Matt to continue backing away. “Lift up your shirt.” “Look, I appreciate an aggressive woman, but this is really getting weird.” Julie grabbed his sweatshirt by the waist cuff and lifted it up with one hand, as she pulled down his T-shirt with the other. Matt put his hands over hers, lightly protesting, but she refused to let go. “Aha!” She squinted at his shirt. “OK, I don’t even know what this is, but it’s definitely geeky.

But I suppose if you're friends of Magnus's ..." He went completely still. His runes faded. Then he leaped out of my hand and flew towards Annabeth, his blade twitching as if he was stiffing the air. "Where is she? Where are you hiding the babe?" Annabeth backed towards the rail. "Whoa, there, sword. Personal space?" "Jack, behave," Alex said. "What are you doing?" "She's around here somewhere," Jack insisted. He flew to Percy. "Aha! What's in your pocket, sea boy?" "Excuse me?" Percy looked a bit nervous about the magical sword hovering at his waistline. Alex lowered his Ray-Bans. "Okay, now I'm curious. What do you have in your pocket, Percy? Enquiring swords want to know." Percy pulled a plain-looking ballpoint pen from his jeans. "You mean this?" "BAM!" Jack said. "Who is this vision of loveliness?" "Jack," I said. "It's a pen." "No, it's not! Show me! Show me!" "Uh ... sure." Percy uncapped the pen. Immediately it transformed into a three-foot-long sword with a leaf-shaped blade of glowing bronze.. Compared to Jack, the weapon looked delicate, almost petite, but from the way Percy wielded it I had no doubt he'd be able to hold his own on the battlefields of Valhalla with that thing. Jack turned his point towards me, his runes flashing burgundy. "See Magnus? I told you it wasn't stupid to carry a sword disguised as a pen!" "Jack, I never said that!" I protested. "You did.

There comes a point in time when we must acknowledge that we are more than our nationality, and we are bigger than our ethnicity. There comes a time when we have an aha moment. What is that aha moment? It's sort of like a revelation. A revelation is when we put all the pieces together to see the bigger picture. When we see the bigger picture, we can see ourselves through the realm of reality and truth. The truth is we belong to a blood family that is connected to a tribal community, and this community is big and bright and bold with life, and we should be proud of the ties to blood that each of us has. We should not play small and reduce our human nature—for we are all connected. We belong to something bigger and more expansive. We belong to life itself. Always remember that you are more than an American (as wonderfully dramatic as that can be). Together, we make up the collective of great. ...And this is good.

Not to change the subject, but…you do realize you’ve been going over the speed limit for quite a few miles? Never mind. And thank you Professor Ludefance. Somehow, I think this lecture is meant for me, but I have a lot more interchange of material and energy with my environment than most.” “In a physical sense, you’re not decaying at all, you’re a very vibrant young woman. The decay I’m speaking about for you is emotional. As for the professorship, that very lecture was given to me from a Turkish friend who had inherited a great deal of wealth and didn’t know what to do with himself. I learned this from him. As for you, you interact with your environment, but you are predatory, fearless, irritable, and listless. You’re getting no emotional feedback.” “And just where do you suggest I go to look for ‘emotional feedback,’ Mr. Professor?” “Aha. That’s the catch. You can’t. It’s not that mechanical. You merely have to be receptive and hope it comes along.” “Meanwhile, I’m being ground down by the second law of thermodynamics.” “In a sense, yes.” “Thank you so much, Professor. I never would have known.

Spencer talked to Trace." Aha! "That--" "And Trace told Dare. But no one told me because you swore everyone to secrecy, and I have to tell you, that annoys the hell out of me." -Jackson and Arizona

In one of the Upanishads it says, when the glow of a sunset holds you and you say 'Aha,' that is the recognition of the divinity. And when you say 'Aha' to an art object, that is a recognition of divinity. And what divinity is it? It is your divinity, which is the only divinity there is. We are all phenomenal manifestations of a divine will to live, and that will and the consciousness of life is one in all of us, and that is what artwork expresses.

Aha! I take my three keys on my ring (car, house, El's) and hold my hand in a fist so that each of the keys is peeking out from between my fingers. I remember seeing this on a self-denfense special of Maury. Television saves lives.

She grinned at me. “Aha, took you a second. Don’t worry, I only poison random strangers on Tuesdays.” “Today is Tuesday,” Leon said. “Oops. Well, that’s okay. You told me your name, so we’re not strangers. You should be safe.” She turned to Leon. “But I don’t know who you are. No promises.

Laurel rolled her eyes. “Now there‟s something I really wanted to know ” she said sarcastically. “Ah come on—everyone wonders.” “Do not ” “Sure. I‟ve always wondered what kind of a kisser David is.” “Um that‟s one of those questions you‟re not supposed to ask.” Chelsea laughed. “I didn‟t ask. I just said I‟ve always wondered.” “That‟s asking.” “Is not.” She leaned back against her headboard. “‟Course you could tell me anyway.” “Chelsea ” “What I told you.” “I didn‟t ask.” “Technicality.” “I‟m not telling.” “That‟s code for he sucks.” “He does not suck.” “Aha ” Laurel sighed. “You are so weird.” “Yeah ” Chelsea said with a grin tossing her springy curls. “But you love me.” Laurel laughed. “Yes I do.” She leaned over and tipped her head onto Chelsea‟s shoulder. “And I‟m glad you‟re happy.

Aha, I thought. Even among the pandai there were frustrated musicians. Amax suddenly reminded me of my father, Zeus, when he came storming down the hallway on Mount Olympus (literally storming, with thunder, lightning, and torrential rain) and ordered me to stop playing my infernal zither music. A totally unfair demand. Everyone knows 2:00 a.m. is the optimal time to practice the zither.

I thought you wouldn't want weepy words of love and all that.' Belle swatted him on the shoulder. 'Of course I do! Every woman does. Especially from the man she actually wants to accept. So devise some weepy words and I'll-' 'Aha! So you accept!

My potential salvation...must remain an unswerving commitment to treat generality only as it emerges from little things that arrest us and open our eyes with "aha" -- while direct, abstract, learned assaults upon generalities usually glaze them over.

- (…) Jak Niemcowi powiesz “zakazane”, to znaczy “zakazane”. Jak Ruskiemu to powiesz - to samo. Spróbuj powiedzieć to Polakowi. “Zakazane” to są dla niego od razu trzy możliwości: częściowo zakazane i trzeba ściemniać, zakazane, ale nie do końca, tak jakby zakazane i niezakazane jednocześnie. I najprostsza możliwość. Zakazane? Aha, to znaczy nikt nic nie wie i rób, co chcesz. - Jezu Chryste, nigdy nie zrozumiem tego narodu. Jak wyście przetrwali tyle wieków? - Właśnie dzięki temu.

Grigorii spared a single glance in his brother’s direction. If looks were daggers, that one would’ve sliced straight through the volhv’s heart. “Here it comes. ‘My oldest son . . .’” “Is a doctor,” Evdokia finished in a singsong voice. “And my daughter is an attorney.” Vasiliy raised his chin. “Jealousy is bad for you. Poisons the heart.” “Aha!” Evdokia slapped the table. “How about your youngest, the musician? How is he doing?” “Yes, what is Vyacheslav doing lately?” Grigorii asked. “Didn’t I see him with a black eye yesterday? Did he whistle a tree onto himself?” Oh boy. Curran opened his mouth. Next to him Jim shook his head. His expression looked suspiciously like fear. “He is young,” Vasiliy said. “He is spoiled rotten,” Evdokia barked. “He spends all his time trying to kill my cat. One child is a doctor, the other is an attorney, the third is a serial killer in training.

Audrey kept moving with practiced quickness, stepping over roots protruding over the trail and pushing ferns and branches out of her way. She kept a brisk pace, but Kaldar didn't mind. From his vantage point, he had an excellent view of her shapely butt. It was a butt that deserved some scrutiny. "If you're waiting for my behind to do a trick, you're out of luck," Audrey called over her shoulder. "How the hell did you even know?" Did she have eyes on the back of her head? "Woman's intuition," she told him. "Aha, so it wouldn't be the fact that I stumbled twice in the last minute?" "Not at all.

It is not merely the feeling that something is familiar. It is one step beyond that. It is something new, challenging, or surprising that opens a door into a feeling of comfort, meaning, or familiarity. It is called an aesthetic aha.

The way she sat now, leaning forward frowning, biting her pink bottom lip, her shirt dipping to reveal a hint of her cleavage... He wondered idly if he could get her to bend over a little farther... "Just what are you staring at, exactly?" Kadar snapped back to reality. "You. You've been thinking hard for the last five minutes. It's not good for you to strain your pretty little head like that. I'm waiting for the steam to shoot out of your ears to relieve the pressure on your brain." "Aha." Audrey glanced at Jack and George. "What you have here is a man who was caught gaping at my breasts, and now he's trying to cover it up with rudeness.

-Iti spun un lucru. Ce este mai apropiat decat fratele de frate, mama de copil?Ce este mai apropiat decat mana de gura, gandul de minte? E viziunea, Roger. Nu ma astept ca tu sa intelegi asta... -Dar pricep,mai incape vorba! Jocelin isi inalta chipul si deodata zambi: -Chiar intelegi? -Dar vine clipa in care viziunea nu mai e decat jocul copilului de-a-sa-zicem. -Aha! Clatina din cap, incet, atent; si luminile plutira. -Atunci nu intelegi deloc. Deloc.

Sigur, intuiţia morţii proprii (care este un fapt tîrziu, o descoperire uimită, cum de nu mi‑am dat seama ?) produce în minţile noastre măcar o tresărire : „Aha, peste x ani, sau peste x zile, sau peste un ceas, sau peste un minut, sau peste o secundă, sau chiar acum, nu voi mai fi, iar acest univers indiferent, care n‑a constatat niciodată prezenţa mea în cuprinsul lui, nu‑mi va constata nici absenţa. Asta este !”. Dar, de obicei, intuiţia cu pricina nu devine o obsesie, nu cădem în nevroza aşteptării, dimpotrivă, trăim ca şi cum nu vom muri niciodată şi nu ne gîndim clipă de clipă la sfîrşit, cum cerea stăruitor acelaşi Lucius Annaeus Seneca, într‑un „exerciţiu spiritual”.

...that, to repeat what I heard for years and years and suspect you’ve been hearing over and over, yourself, something’s meaning is nothing more or less than its function. Et cetera et cetera et cetera. Has she done the thing with the broom with you? No? What does she use now? No. What she did with me--I must have been eight, or twelve, who remembers--was to sit me down in the kitchen and take a straw broom and start furiously sweeping the floor, and she asked me which part of the broom was more elemental, more fundamental, in my opinion, the bristles or the handle. The bristles or the handle. And I hemmed and hawed, and she swept more and more violently, and I got nervous, and finally when I said I supposed the bristles, because you could after a fashion sweep without the handle, by just holding on to the bristles, but couldn’t sweep with just the handle, she tackled me, and knocked me out of my chair, and yelled into my ear something like, ’Aha, that’s because you want to sweep with the broom, isn’t it? It’s because of what you want the broom for, isn’t it?’ Et cetera. And that if what we wanted a broom for was to break windows, then the handle was clearly the fundamental essence of the broom, and she illustrated with the kitchen window, and a crowd of the domestics gathered; but that if we wanted the broom to sweep with, see for example the broken glass, sweep sweep, the bristles were the thing’s essence. No? What now, then? With pencils? No matter. Meaning as fundamentalness. Fundamentalness as use. Meaning as use. Meaning as fundamentalness.

It can take a lot of hard focused-mode work beforehand, but the sudden, unexpected solution that emerges from the diffuse mode can make it feel almost like the “aha!” mode.

American evangelicalism now requires acquiescence to attitudes and practices that fundamentally (aha!) negate core teachings of Jesus

AHA!” Peacemaker suddenly declared. “Have an idea! Super good one! Going to take a NAP! Like a RAINWING! YAY!

The first step of making strategy real is figuring out the big ‘aha’ to gain sustainable competitive advantage—in other words, a significant, meaningful insight about how to win.

Quick, think of a marvelous excuse he’ll totally swallow. Aha!“To practice. Unlike you guys, I haven’t tried my particular talent since Granny May signed me up for belly-dancing classes when I was fifteen.”And, by the way, why the hell did I consent to that? Or decide I loved it? Never mind, he’s buying it. In fact, he seems to be hot on the idea. Are his eyes glowing? And is Cole’s tongue hanging out? This is why I didn’t want to dance in the first place! “Anyway,” I rushed on. “I’m going to find a private place where nobody can see to laugh at me while you beat this tent”—or, more likely, these two idiots—“into submission.

Laughter is the only free emotion - the only one that can't be compelled. We can be made to fear. We can even be made to believe we're in love because, if we're kept dependent and isolated for long enough, we bond in order to survive. But laughter explodes like an aha! It comes when the punch line changes everything that has gone before, when two opposites collide and make a third and when we suddenly see a new reality...laughter is an orgasm of the mind.

Wouldn’t the sentence ‘I want to put a hyphen between the words Fish and And and And and Chips in my Fish-And-Chips sign’ have been clearer if quotation marks had been placed before Fish, and between Fish and and, and and and And, and And and and, and and and And, and And and and, and and and Chips, as well as after Chips?

In the psychology of aesthetics, there is a name for the moment between the anxiety of confronting something new and the satisfying click of understanding it. It is called an 'aesthetic aha.

The "aha" moment is a validating experience for your efforts and at the same time changes your paradigm of the world in favor of a more accurate one. Campbell simply says “it wipes out the ego.

Why do you ask?" "Because I can." "You can what?" "I can go in the private collection!" I scurried toward him. "My father had a lifetime subscriptioin, Mr. Sheridan, and not just that, but he had special privileges. I'm certain I could use his name to get you into the private collection." Daniel's jaw fell. "Why didn't you say so before?" "What?" I recoiled. "How was I supposed to know you needed it?" "We could've gone ages ago!" My enthusiasm transformed into outrage. "In that case, why didn't you say you needed it?" "Because I didn't know you had a subscription!" "Aha!" I cried, thrusting a finger at him. "Your argument's a circle!" Daniel sprang up. "We wasted all this time-" "Silence!" Joseph roared. "You are like squawking parrots, and I have had quite enough. Miss Fitt, I would ask that you take Mr. Sheridan to the library immediately. Daniel, I would ask that you keep that big mouth of yours silent.

And what do they talk about beyond the barricade, my little lad?” “Um…well, Justice an' Truth an' Freedom and stuff,” said Nobby. “Aha. Rebel talk!” said Carcer, straightening up. “Is it?” said the major. “Take it from me, major,” said Carcer. “When you get a bunch of people using words like that, they're up to no good.

A marijuana high can enhance core human mental abilities. It can help you to focus, to remember, to see new patterns, to imagine, to be creative, to introspect, to empathically understand others, and to come to deep insights. If you don’t find this amazing you have lost your sense of wonder. Which, by the way, is something a high can bring back, too.

I call it an Aha! moment. It is the moment when I can hear, when I know, that an answer is being offered to me. All other sounds measurably fade, including the banter in my brain. It is when the answer travels from my heart to my head and says, “This is so.” No questions follow, no objections interrupt; just the recognition that I must listen and follow.

Aha. Und deine Klamotten konnten das liebeskranke Gezicke nicht mehr hören und sind deshalb von deinem Körper gehüpft und weggerannt?

Sometimes we think there is supposed to be this great spiritual awakening that happens before we make a change in our lives. We expect some 'aha' moment, some beautiful enlightening experience to shape us into the people we want to be, but sometimes it just happens from the circumstances in our lives that present themselves. We become who we are meant to be because of the things along our edges that pull us into existence.

By 'aha' she means 'one minute' Stephano claims he knows nothing about snakes, the next he claims he is an expert! By 'aha' she means 'Stephano has been lying to us'. By 'aha' she means 'we've finally exposed his dishonesty to you'! By 'aha' she means 'aha'!

Take me! You need a companion.” “Yep,” I said. “And I’m going with Lockwood.” In fact, I had to hurry. I could hear him putting his coat on in the hall. “Aha…Are you? Oh, I see. Better leave you to it, then.” “Right. Good.” I paused. “Meaning what?” “Nothing, nothing.” The evil eyes winked at me. “I’m no third wheel.” “I don’t

Aha. The mom doesn’t know. She’s fishing. This next part has to be just right, or I’m blacklisted by the mother and hated by the daughter. The first would be an inconvenience; the second would be a tragedy.

Here’s how I see your weight—it is your smoke detector. And we’re all burning up the best part of our lives.” I’d never thought of it that way before, but it was a true aha moment. My weight was an indicator warning, a flashing light blaring my disconnection from the center of myself.

The problem with being an alpha is that you can never make the first move. Makes you feel like you’re taking advantage of your position. You have to wait until the other person decides they want in.” Jim set the basket on the coffee table and crouched by me. “And sometimes it seems like that person likes you, and you try to test the waters, so you try to tell her how you feel, that she matters and that you want to be with her and you’re concerned about her safety. And every time you do that, she waves her arms around and accuses you of being a controlling alpha asshole. So you back off and hope you didn’t completely fuck it up.” He was close, too close. I just stared at him. What was happening . . . “Why are you telling me this?” His voice was low and smooth. “That time when I told you it didn’t matter what your mother thought about your looks . . .” “Aha . . .” “I meant it,” he said. “Because I think you’re beautiful.

Our weaponry was not dropped onto our laps one morning. It is not manna from Sinai’s skies. Since Agincourt, the White man has refined & evolved the gunpowder sciences until our modern armies may field muskets by the tens of thousands! Aha!’ you will ask, yes, ‘But why us Aryans? Why not the Unipeds of Ur or the Mandrakes of Mauritius?’ Because, Preacher, of all the world’s races, our love—or rather our rapacity—for treasure, gold, spices & dominion, oh, most of all, sweet dominion, is the keenest, the hungriest, the most unscrupulous! This rapacity yes, powers our Progress; for ends infernal or divine I know not. Nor do you know, sir. Nor do I overly care. I feel only gratitude that my Maker cast me on the winning side.

I say, `Woe to them that have a nose, a real nose, and come to look round the torture-chamber! Aha, aha, aha!

Worst case I'll bring Rain Man here. I'll tell him it's a date. Aha, so he's cute, then? Tasty. And smart. Can't beat that witha stick.

A-ha, but don’t you see, not caring about the money, only caring about winning, that’s a luxury. You come from money, so you have the luxury of only caring about your accomplishments.

I finally understood why laughter is a mark of wanderers, from the holy fools of Old Russia to the roadies of rock music. It’s the surprise, the unexpected, the out of control. It turns out that laughter is the only free emotion—the only one that can’t be compelled. We can be made to fear. We can even be made to believe we’re in love because, if we’re kept dependent and isolated for long enough, we bond in order to survive. But laughter explodes like an aha! It comes when the punch line changes everything that has gone before, when two opposites collide and make a third, when we suddenly see a new reality.

But today, the AHA is saying something quite different. In their massive 2015 report Heart Disease and Stroke Statistics, they buried a bombshell in the text.8 It says that five huge randomized controlled trials have demonstrated that total fat consumption does not affect rates of coronary heart disease or stroke.

What is a self-image? Who started talking about one? I rather fancy it was Madison Avenue. Picture Satan in a business suit, with well-groomed horns and a superbly switching tail, sitting at his huge executive's desk, thinking, 'Aha! If I can substitute images for reality I can get a lot more people under my domination.

The AHA even rode the profit wave of refined carbohydrates from the 1990s onward by charging a hefty fee for the privilege of putting the AHA’s “Heart Healthy” check mark on products, with the label ending up on some dubious candidates, such as Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes, Fruity Marshmallow Krispies, and low-fat Pop-Tarts.

Potter,' she said in ringing tones, 'I will assist you to become an Auror if it is the last thing I do! If I have to coach you nightly, I will make sure you achieve the required results!' 'The Minister for Magic will never employ Harry Potter!' said Umbridge, her voice rising furiously. 'There may well be a new Minister for Magic by the time Potter is ready to join!' shouted Professor McGonagall. 'Aha!' shrieked Professor Umbridge, pointing a stubby finger at McGonagall. 'Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Of course! That's what you want, isn't it, Minerva McGonagall? You want Cornelius Fudge replace by Albus Dumbledore! You think you'll be where I am, don't you: Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and Headmistress to boot!' 'You are raving,' said Professor McGonagall, superbly disdainful.

Just because you think clearly doesn’t mean you talk to God.” “Aha!” Vetra exclaimed. “And yet remarkable solutions to seemingly impossible problems often occur in these moments of clarity. It’s what gurus call higher consciousness. Biologists call it altered states. Psychologists call it super-sentience.” He paused. “And Christians call it answered prayer.

Sometimes the meaning in life hits you like a meteorite.

I bet it was also the triumphant Aha! and not the truth itself that had fueled all those famous literary detectives I knew not much about except their names - Philip Marlowe, Sherlock Holmes, Joe and Frank Hardy. I felt like yelling something celebratory on my way home, something like, Yeah! or Fuck, yeah! just like Marlowe would have yelled, just like the Hardys would have yelled, and maybe Holmes, too, although maybe that's why he kept Watson around; to tell Holmes to simmer down and not get too far ahead of himself.

This is the Distinguished Dr. Primarius Gottfried Trimm," Wilhelm whispered, looking imploringly, if not quite with outright horror, at his wife, who in general had little understanding of social hierarchies. "Aha," Willhelmine said, adding: "He's a bit of a porker.

Pooh went into a corner and tried saying 'Aha!' in that sort of voice. Sometimes it seemed to him that it did mean what Rabbit said, and sometimes it seemed to him that it didn't. "I suppose it's just practice," he thought. "I wonder if Kanga will have to practise too so as to understand it.

One cannot laugh when in an anxiety panic, for then one is swallowed up, one has lost the distinction between himself as subject and the objective world around him. So long as one can laugh, furthermore, he is not completely under the domination of anxiety or fear—hence the accepted belief in folklore that to be able to laugh in times of danger is a sign of courage. In cases of borderline psychotics, so long as the person has genuine humor—so long, that is, as he can laugh, or look at himself with the thought, as one person put it, “What a crazy person I’ve been!”—he is preserving his identity as a self. When any of us, neurotic or not, get insights into our psychological problems, our spontaneous reaction is normally a little laugh—the “aha” of insight, as it is called. The humor occurs because of a new appreciation of one’s self as a subject acting in an objective world.

Just as a father hates cancer, because of what it does to his child, so God hates divorce, because of what it does to His children.

Co to zase dělá?" "Já nevím." "A co to děláš ty?" "Dostal jsem za úkol ho pozorovat a zaznamenat všechny odchylky od normálu," povzdechl si tázaný. "Odchylky od normálu..." nadzvedla Nefas obočí. "Aha... no... jak ho tak pozoruju já, možná bys měl začít psát, až začne dělat něco normálního," odfrkla si a otočila se na patě. "Rozhodně bys tím strávil míň času.

three basic tests. First, your idea has to be big enough to justify devoting your life to it. Make sure it has the potential to be huge. Second, it should be unique. When people see what you are offering, they should say to themselves, “My gosh, I need this. I’ve been waiting for this. This really appeals to me.” Without that “aha!” you are wasting your time. Third, your timing must be right. The world actually doesn’t like pioneers, so if you are too early, your risk of failure is high. The market you are targeting should be lifting off with enough momentum to help make you successful. If you pass these three tests, you will have a business with the potential to be big, that offers something unique, and is hitting the market at the right time. Then you have to be ready for the pain. No entrepreneur anticipates or wants pain, but pain is the reality of starting something new. It is unavoidable

The Bible says in Psalms to “Be still.” God says, “Be still and know that I am God” (Ps. 46:10). I like this definition of stillness: silence on the outside and surrender on the inside.

The only thing we can do now,” said Benjy, crouching and stroking his whiskers in thought, “is to try and fake a question, invent one that will sound plausible.” “Difficult,” said Frankie. He thought. “How about, What's yellow and dangerous?” Benjy considered this for a moment. “No, no good,” he said. “Doesn't fit the answer.” They sank into silence for a few seconds. “All right,” said Benjy. “What do you get if you multiply six by seven?” “No, no, too literal, too factual,” said Frankie, “wouldn't sustain the punter's interest.” Again they thought. Then Frankie said: “Here's a thought. How many roads must a man walk down?” “Ah!” said Benjy. “Aha, now that does sound promising!” He rolled the phrase around a little. “Yes,” he said, “that's excellent! Sounds very significant without actually tying you down to meaning anything at all. How many roads must a man walk down? Forty-two. Excellent, excellent, that'll fox 'em. Frankie, baby, we are made!

I was trying to understand my grandmother feelings. Why, when I looked at and held the baby, I felt I was floating, that I was on a high.... I keep wanting to burst into song! So I wasn't crazy, & I wasn't alone. When a grandmother holds the baby, her brain, like a new mother's, can also be drenched in the bonding hormone oxytocin. Aha! There it was. We grandmas literally, actually fall in love.

Westman has written poignantly about the predicament of working toward paradigm change when the existing bias is so strong: “When an unscientific fear of dietary fat pervades the culture so much that researchers who are on study sections that provide funding will not allow research into high-fat diets for fear of “harming people.’” as we’ve seen at the NIH and AHA, “this situation will not allow science to self-correct.’ A sort of scientific taboo is created because of the low likelihood of funding, and the funding agencies are off the hook because they say that researchers are not submitting requests for grants.

Let me tell you something about women, Tigernan,” Ruari offered, stretching his legs and holding up his empty ale bowl to attract the innkeeper’s attention. “I’ve given a bit of thought to them, having lived more years than you. Women are something a man requires, as necessary as air to breathe and ale to drink. I cannot boast of understanding them, mind you, but I suspect nature designed them for a specific purpose, and it would be a mistake to try to change them. “Women render men an invaluable service that may not at first be apparent. They are born to be responsible, to caretake. It is in them to probe their men as they would examine an old cloak, looking for holes that could let the wind through. Women understand survival better than we do, I think. They will nag and probe and provoke until they find a lowered defense, even the smallest hole, then they poke their fingers through and shout, ‘Aha!’ “In this way they force their men to keep their cloaks mended and their weapons in repair, and ultimately this helps them survive. With a woman treading on his heels a man must stay alert and in the proper frame of mind to go out and slay dragons. Never provoke a quarrel with a man who has just had his flaws pointed out to him by some woman.

How's the blood-stream, my dear, invaluable little woman? How's the blood-stream?"... "It's quite comfortable, sir...I think, sir, thank you."... "Aha!"..."a comfortable stream, is it? Aha! v-e-r-y good. V-e-r-y good. Dawdling 'twixt hill and hill, no doubt. Meandering through groves of bone, threading the tissues and giving what sustenance it can to your dear old body...I am so glad. But in yourself - right deep down in yourself - how do you feel? Carnally speaking, are you at peace - from the dear grey hairs of your head to the patter of your little feet - are you at peace?" "What does he mean, dear?" said poor Mrs. Slagg, clutching Fuschia's arm.... "He wants to know if you feel well or not.

In the living room Derek sprawled on the floor on a blanket, his eyes closed, his body human, corded with hard muscle, and covered only with a strategically placed towel. Julie knelt by him, long tweezers in her hand. “What’s going on?” “Quills,” she said. “Very thin quills. There was a magic plant and he decided it would be a good idea to give it a hug. Because he is smart that way.” So they had taken Julie with them. Considering where I’d gone and what I did while there, I didn’t have room to talk. Derek didn’t bother opening his eyes. “I wasn’t giving it a hug. I was shielding Ella.” “Mm-hm.” Julie plucked a thin needle from his stomach. “You shielded her really well. Because it’s not like we didn’t have Carlos with us.” Carlos was a firebug. The plant must’ve gotten torched. “We’ll need to work on mixed-unit tactics,” Curran said. He looked tired. It must’ve been hell. “So what did you do in Mishmar?” Umm. Ehh. In my head I had somehow expected Erra to stay in Mishmar. “I saw my father,” I said. Start small. “How was that?” Curran asked. “He’s a little upset with me.” “Aha.” “I broke Mishmar a little bit.” The three of them looked at me. “But it was mostly my grandmother who did it.” “How much is a little bit?” Derek asked. “There might be a crack. About maybe seven feet at the widest point.” Derek laughed. “And what else?” Curran asked. Perceptive bastard. “And this.” I pulled out the dagger and showed it to him. “You made a magic knife?” he asked. “Yes. In a manner of speaking.” “But you still have to get close enough to stab Roland with it,” Derek said. “That’s not how it works.” Help me, somebody. Curran was looking right at me. “Kate?” “It’s more of an advising kind of knife.” “You should come clean,” he said. “Whatever it is, it’s done and we can handle it.” My aunt tore into existence in the center of the room. “Hello, half-breed.” Curran exploded into a leap. Unfortunately, Derek also exploded at exactly the same time but from the opposite direction. They collided in Erra’s translucent body with a loud thud. Derek fell back and Curran stumbled a few steps. Erra pointed at Curran with her thumb. “You want to marry this? Is there a shortage of men?” Curran leapt forward and swiped at her head. His hand passed through my aunt’s face. Derek jumped to his feet and circled Erra, his eyes glowing. “I fear for my grandnephew,” Erra said. “He will be an idiot.

One of the rooms in the castle had a creature in it,” Curran said. “What kind of creature?” “A large cat,” Curran said. “It glowed.” “What happened to the large glowing cat?” Why did I have a feeling I wouldn’t like the answer? “I killed it,” Curran said. “Aha.” First, I broke Mishmar, then Curran stole Saiman back and killed my father’s glowing cat. Maybe Roland’s head would explode. “It was a saber-toothed tiger,” Julie said. “It glowed silver.” Silver meant divine magic. There was no telling what that saber-toothed tiger was or where my dad had gotten him. “Snitch,” Derek said. She waved him off. “He killed it and then he ate it.” I looked at Curran. “You killed an animal god and then you ate him?” “Maybe,” Curran said. “What do you mean maybe?” “I doubt it was a god.” “It glowed silver,” Julie said. “It was definitely worshipped.” Oh boy. Curran swerved to avoid a speed bump formed by tree roots raising the asphalt. “I could worship a lamp. That doesn’t make it a god.” “Why did you eat it?” I asked in a small voice. “It felt right at the time.” “He devoured it,” Julie said. “Completely. With bones.” If it was some sort of divine animal and he ate it, there was no telling what the flesh or the magic would do to him. There would be consequences. There were always consequences. “Do you feel any side effects?” “Not any I want to talk about with them in the car.

Giving up animal fats has also meant shifting over to vegetable oils, and over the past century the share of these oils has grown from zero to almost 8 percent of all calories consumed by Americans, by far the biggest change in our eating patterns during that time. In this period, the health of America has become strikingly worse. When the low-fat, low-cholesterol diet was first officially recommended to the public by the American Heart Association (AHA) in 1961, roughly one in seven adult Americans was obese. Forty years later, that number was one in three. (It’s heartbreaking to realize that the federal government’s “Healthy People” goal for 2010, a project begun in the mid-1990s, for instance, was simply to return the public back to levels of obesity seen in 1960, and even that goal was unreachable.)

Het tweede is dit: wanneer je kind sterft, voel je alles wat je zou verwachten, gevoelens die door zo veel anderen al zo goed beschreven zijn dat ik niet eens de moeite zal nemen ze hier op te sommen, behalve dat ik wil zeggen dat alles wat over rouw geschreven is één pot nat is, en het is één pot nat met reden: omdat niemand werkelijk van de tekst afwijkt. Soms voel je wat meer van het een en minder van het ander, en soms voel je het in een andere volgorde, en soms langer of korter. Maar de gevoelens zijn altijd hetzelfde. Maar nu komt er iets wat niemand zegt: als het jouw kind is, voelt een deel van jou, een piepklein maar niettemin onmiskenbaar deel van jou, ook opluchting. Want eindelijk is het moment gekomen dat je al verwachtte, waar je voor vreesde, waarop je je hebt voorbereid sinds de dag dat je een kind kreeg. Aha, zeg je bij jezelf, daar is het. Het is zover. En daarna heb je nooit meer iets te vrezen.

Ich sehe die Szene schon vor mir, wie ich oben ankomme, mit dem Typ, der meinen Namen auf der Liste sucht und nicht findet. "Wie heißen Sie nochmal?" "Novecento." "Nosjinskij, Notarbartolo, Novalis, Nozza..." "Es ist nämlich so, daß ich auf einem Schiff geboren bin." "Wie bitte?" "Ich bin aif einem Schiff geboren und da auch gestorben, ich weiß nicht, ob das da aus der Liste hervorgeht..." "Schiffbruch?" "Nein. Explodiert. Dreizehn Zentner Dynamit. Bum." "Aha. Ist soweit alles in Ordnung?" "Ja, ja, bestens... das heißt... da ist noch die Sache mit dem Arm... ein Arm ist weg... aber man hat mir versichert..." "Ein Arm fehlt ihnen?" "Ja. Wissen Sie, bei de Explosion..." "Da müßte noch ein Paar liegen... welcher fehlt Ihnen denn?" "Der linke." "Ach herrje." "Was soll das heißen?" "Ich fürchte, es sind zwei rechte, wissen Sie." "Zwei rechte Arme?" "Tja. Unter Umständen können Sie Schwierigkeiten haben,..." "Ja?" "Ich meine, wenn Sie einen rechten Arm nehmen würden..." "Einen rechten Arm anstelle des linken?" "Ja." "Aber... nein, oder doch,... lieber einen rechten als gar keinen..." "Das meine ich auch. Warten Sie einen Moment, ich hole ihn." "Ich komme am besten in ein paar Tagen wieder vorbei, dann haben Sie vielleicht einen linken da..." "Also, ich habe hier einen weißen und einen schwarzen..." "Nein, nein, einfarbig... nichts gegen Schwarze, hm, es ist nur eine Frage der..." Pech gehabt. Eine ganze Ewigkeit im Paradies mit zwei rechten Armen. (Näselnd gesprochen.) Und jetzt schlagen wir ein schönes Kreuz! (Er setzt zu dieser Geste an, hält aber inne. Er betrachtet seine Hände.) Nie weiß man, welche man nehmen soll. (Er zögert einen Augenblick, dann bekreuzigt er sich schnell mit beiden Händen.) Sich eine ganze ewigkeit, Millionen Jahre, zum Affen machen. (Wieder schlägt er mit beiden Händen ein Kreuz.) Die Hölle. Da gibt's nichts zu lachen. (Er dreht sich um, geht auf die Kulissen zu, bliebt einen Schritt vor dem Abgang stehen, dreht sich erneut zum Publikum, und seine Augen leuchten.) Andererseits... du weißt ja, daß Musik... mit diesen Händen, mit zwei rechten... wenn da nur ein Klavier ist...

This dish... it's sweet-and-sour pork but with black vinegar. In fact, you could call it "Black Vinegar Pork." The glossy black of the vinegar was used to great effect in the plating, giving the dish a classy and luxuriant appearance. But the moment you put a bite in your mouth... fresh, vibrant green tea explodes in a sea of invigorating green. It is extravagantly delicious. Chef Kuga's Sweet-and-Sour sauce includes not just black vinegar but also balsamic vinegar as well as Chef Mimasaka's smoked soy sauce! It destroys the traditional boundaries of sweet-and-sour pork, creating a dish that's rich, tangy and savory while erasing the pork's thick greasiness to push the taste of the green tea to the forefront! He has completely succeeded in taking the green tea leaves and making them the centerpiece of his dish! But the point most worthy of attention... ... is that this sublime taste experience wasn't created using solely Chinese-cooking techniques. It shows an equally deft use of traditional French techniques!" "What the... French?! But isn't he supposed to be a purely Sichuan-Chinese chef?!" "Yes, yes. I'm gonna explain, so quiet down and listen up, 'kay? See, there's another secret y'all don't know. That sweet-and-sour sauce? I based it on Sauce au Vinaigre Balsamique. That's a balsamic vinegar sauce used in a whole lot of French recipes." "Aha! Now I see. So that's where it came from! French Vinaigre Balsamique sauce is a reduction of balsamic vinegar and Glacé de Viande! It has a light tanginess and thick richness, which must have boosted the deliciousness of the sweet-and-sour pork into the stratosphere!

There is a tendency for us to minimize the Word of the Lord. Maybe because of its familiarity. “Familiarity breeds contempt,” the saying goes. But it may be more accurate to say that “familiarity breeds indifference.” The more we hear some warnings, the less seriously we take them—like the tornado warnings in grade school we didn’t take seriously. The people of Nineveh heard God’s warning. God got their attention, and they were honest with themselves about themselves. One of the reasons we minimize our own sin and rebellion is that we don’t take God’s Word seriously. Maybe a strong pinch is needed to get us to sit up and pay attention.

Shockers take six months of training and still occasionally kill their users. Why did you implant them in the first place?” “Because you kidnapped me.” “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” “Mr. Rogan.” My voice frosted over. “What I put into my body is my business.” Okay, that didn’t sound right. I gave up and marched out the doors into the sunlight. That was so dumb. Sure, try your magic sex touch on me, what could happen? My whole body was still keyed up, wrapped up in want and anticipation. I had completely embarrassed myself. If I could fall through the floor, I would. “Nevada,” he said behind me. His voice rolled over me, tinted with command and enticing, promising things I really wanted. You’re a professional. Act like one. I gathered all of my will and made myself sound calm. “Yes?” He caught up with me. “We need to talk about this.” “There is nothing to discuss,” I told him. “My body had an involuntary response to your magic.” I nodded at the poster for Crash and Burn II on the wall of the mall, with Leif Magnusson flexing with two guns while wrapped in flames. “If Leif showed up in the middle of this parking lot, my body would have an involuntary response to his presence as well. It doesn’t mean I would act on it.” Mad Rogan gave Leif a dismissive glance and turned back to me. “They say admitting that you have a problem is the first step toward recovery.” He was changing his tactics. Not going to work. “You know what my problem is? My problem is a homicidal pyrokinetic Prime whom I have to bring back to his narcissistic family.” We crossed the road to the long parking lot. Grassy dividers punctuated by small trees sectioned the lot into lanes, and Mad Rogan had parked toward the end of the lane, by the exit ramp. “One school of thought says the best way to handle an issue like this is exposure therapy,” Mad Rogan said. “For example, if you’re terrified of snakes, repeated handling of them will cure it.” Aha. “I’m not handling your snake.” He grinned. “Baby, you couldn’t handle my snake.” It finally sank in. Mad Rogan, the Huracan, had just made a pass at me. After he casually almost strangled a woman in public. I texted to Bern, “Need pickup at Galeria IV.” Getting into Rogan’s car was out of the question.

I am very often asked why, at the age of eighty-five, I continue to practice. Tip number eighty-five (sheer coincidence that I am now eighty-five years old) begins with a simple declaration: my work with patients enriches my life in that it provides meaning in life. Rarely do I hear therapists complain of a lack of meaning. We live lives of service in which we fix our gaze on the needs of others. We take pleasure not only in helping our patients change, but also in hoping their changes will ripple beyond them toward others. We are also privileged by our role as cradlers of secrets. Every day patients grace us with their secrets, often never before shared. The secrets provide a backstage view of the human condition without social frills, role-playing, bravado, or stage posturing. Being entrusted with such secrets is a privilege given to very few. Sometimes the secrets scorch me and I go home and hold my wife and count my blessings. Moreover, our work provides the opportunity to transcend ourselves and to envision the true and tragic knowledge of the human condition. But we are offered even more. We become explorers immersed in the grandest of pursuits—the development and maintenance of the human mind. Hand in hand with patients, we savor the pleasure of discovery—the “aha” experience when disparate ideational fragments suddenly slide smoothly together into a coherent whole. Sometimes I feel like a guide escorting others through the rooms of their own house. What a treat it is to watch them open doors to rooms never before entered, discover unopened wings of their house containing beautiful and creative pieces of identity. Recently I attended a Christmas service at the Stanford Chapel to hear a sermon by Rev. Jane Shaw that underscored the vital importance of love and compassion. I was moved by her call to put such sentiments into practice whenever we can. Acts of caring and generosity can enrich any environment in which we find ourselves. Her words motivated me to reconsider the role of love in my own profession. I became aware that I have never, not once, used the word love or compassion in my discussions of the practice of psychotherapy. It is a huge omission, which I wish now to correct, for I know that I regularly experience love and compassion in my work as a therapist and do all I can to help patients liberate their love and generosity toward others. If I do not experience these feelings for a particular patient, then it is unlikely I will be of much help. Hence I try to remain alert to my loving feelings or absence of such feelings for my patients.