Albany Quotes

تبسمك في وجه أخيك صدقة، وأمرك بالمعروف صدقة ونهيك عن المنكر صدقة، وإرشادك الرجل في أرض الضلال لك صدقة، ونصرك الرجل الرديء البصر لك صدقة، وإماطتك الحجر والشوك العظم عن الطريق لك صدقة Smiling in your brother’s face is an act of charity. So is enjoining good and forbidding evil, giving directions to the lost traveller, aiding the blind and removing obstacles from the path. (Graded authentic by Ibn Hajar and al-Albani: Hidaayat-ur-Ruwaah, 2/293)

It reminded me of what Dad said after every snail’s crawl home from Albany when snow hit.“It’s New York, people. It’s winter. We get snow. If you aren’t prepared to deal with it, move to Miami.

You think I'm insane?" said Finnerty. Apparently he wanted more of a reaction than Paul had given him. "You're still in touch. I guess that's the test." "Barely — barely." "A psychiatrist could help. There's a good man in Albany." Finnerty shook his head. "He'd pull me back into the center, and I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the center." He nodded, "Big, undreamed-of things — the people on the edge see them first.

Be Visionary ...

Hello, my name is Albany, and I have a telepathic connection with my twin sister, along with the ability to read minds.

Tom Paine has almost no influence on present-day thinking in the United States because he is unknown to the average citizen. Perhaps I might say right here that this is a national loss and a deplorable lack of understanding concerning the man who first proposed and first wrote those impressive words, 'the United States of America.' But it is hardly strange. Paine's teachings have been debarred from schools everywhere and his views of life misrepresented until his memory is hidden in shadows, or he is looked upon as of unsound mind. We never had a sounder intelligence in this Republic. He was the equal of Washington in making American liberty possible. Where Washington performed Paine devised and wrote. The deeds of one in the Weld were matched by the deeds of the other with his pen. Washington himself appreciated Paine at his true worth. Franklin knew him for a great patriot and clear thinker. He was a friend and confidant of Jefferson, and the two must often have debated the academic and practical phases of liberty. I consider Paine our greatest political thinker. As we have not advanced, and perhaps never shall advance, beyond the Declaration and Constitution, so Paine has had no successors who extended his principles. Although the present generation knows little of Paine's writings, and although he has almost no influence upon contemporary thought, Americans of the future will justly appraise his work. I am certain of it. Truth is governed by natural laws and cannot be denied. Paine spoke truth with a peculiarly clear and forceful ring. Therefore time must balance the scales. The Declaration and the Constitution expressed in form Paine's theory of political rights. He worked in Philadelphia at the time that the first document was written, and occupied a position of intimate contact with the nation's leaders when they framed the Constitution. Certainly we may believe that Washington had a considerable voice in the Constitution. We know that Jefferson had much to do with the document. Franklin also had a hand and probably was responsible in even larger measure for the Declaration. But all of these men had communed with Paine. Their views were intimately understood and closely correlated. There is no doubt whatever that the two great documents of American liberty reflect the philosophy of Paine. ...Then Paine wrote 'Common Sense,' an anonymous tract which immediately stirred the fires of liberty. It flashed from hand to hand throughout the Colonies. One copy reached the New York Assembly, in session at Albany, and a night meeting was voted to answer this unknown writer with his clarion call to liberty. The Assembly met, but could find no suitable answer. Tom Paine had inscribed a document which never has been answered adversely, and never can be, so long as man esteems his priceless possession. In 'Common Sense' Paine flared forth with a document so powerful that the Revolution became inevitable. Washington recognized the difference, and in his calm way said that matters never could be the same again. It must be remembered that 'Common Sense' preceded the declaration and affirmed the very principles that went into the national doctrine of liberty. But that affirmation was made with more vigor, more of the fire of the patriot and was exactly suited to the hour... Certainly [the Revolution] could not be forestalled, once he had spoken. {The Philosophy of Paine, June 7, 1925}

Listen, Kitten, we only have room for one drama queen, and that’s me, thank you very much. So take it down a notch, will ya?

By noon, in a gray February world, we had come down through snow flurries to land at Albany, and had taken off again. When the snow ended the sky was a luminous gray. I looked down at the winter calligraphy of upstate New York, white fields marked off by the black woodlots, an etching without color, superbly restful in contrast to the smoky, guttering, grinding stink of the airplane clattering across the sky like an old commuter bus.

Some of the most vivid writing in America is on the walls of restrooms. The men's room in the Albany, N.Y. railroad station, for instance, should be preserved as a national shrine: there is more wit there than in any Broadway hit!

I need permission for two to visit Villa Albani.” He hesitated a moment. “Is she beautiful?” he asked. “Totally.

Once, during the Siege of Boston, when almost nothing was going right and General Schuyler had written from Albany to bemoan his troubles, Washington had replied that he understood but that “we must bear up against them, and make the best of mankind as they are, since we cannot have them as we wish.” It was such resolve and an acceptance of mankind and circumstances as they were, not as he wished them to be, that continued to carry Washington through. “I will not however despair,” he now wrote to Governor William Livingston.

You think I'm insane?" said Finnerty. Apparently he wanted more of a reaction than Paul had given him. "You're still in touch. I Guess that's the test." "Barely-barely." "A psychiatrist could help. There's a good man in Albany." Finnerty shook his head. "He'd pull me back into the center, and I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out there on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can't see from the center." He nodded, "Big, undreamed-of things--the people on the edge see them first.

You do realize that calling big spoon does not mean you get to have your dick swaddled in my pussy, right?

...sick, my brothers are sending me home. This place infects me. Templeton my smooth little pill... such images I have. Such voices, that high voice, the little girl's so naughty, talking to me, all the time now. How I hate her... the train is empty, Albany a small, spangled fish... this train is all brown velvet... the train slows, I am in Templeton, oh. Templeton, Templeton, the train says, slowing down. The lake, the blue, is an embrace.

Little Mr. Bowley, who had rooms in the Albany and was sealed with wax over the deeper sources of life but could be unsealed suddenly, inappropriately, sentimentally, by this sort of thing––poor women waiting to see the Queen go past––poor women, nice little children, orphans, widows, the War––tut tut––actually had tears in his eyes.

Both the steamboat service to Albany and the Erie Canal were destined to be swiftly fleeting marvels, eclipsed by the next idea. Only seven years after the Seneca Chief brought whitefish to New York Harbor, the city’s railroad age had begun. The

...it was easy to forget that Washington was just another glum city of government, like Albany or Sacramento, legislators and lobbyists and bureaucrats and their clerks working and reworking the sodden language of government in order to distribute the spoils.

Want to lie down and be the little spoon?” I whisper, half joking. “Little spoon?” Grim tilts his head as his brow furrows. “Like nesting spoons. Right now, I’m the little spoon and Calix is the big spoon,” I explain. “I want to be the big spoon.” His chin lifts a little. “Well then, you have to go lie behind Calix.” I hook my thumb behind me. “That’s not acceptable. I will only nest spoons with you.

The community of Partageuse had drifted together like so much dust in a breeze, settling in this spot where two oceans met, because there was fresh water and a natural harbor and good soil. Its port was no rival to Albany, but convenient for locals shipping timber or sandalwood or beef. Little businesses had sprung up and clung on like lichen on a rock face, and the town had accumulated a school, a variety of churches with different hymns and architectures, a good few brick and stone houses and a lot more built of weatherboard and tin. It gradually produced various shops, a town hall, even a Dalgety's stock and station agency. And pubs. Many pubs.

At half-past twelve next day Lord Henry Wotton strolled from Curzon Street over to the Albany to call on his uncle, Lord Fermor, a genial if somewhat rough-mannered old bachelor, whom the outside world called selfish because it derived no particular benefit from him, but who was considered generous by Society as he fed the people who amused him.

Remember The Poem ...

I’m tired of trying to get better, it’s much more exhausting than pretending I’m well,

It's quite uncanny what one sets in motion by being oneself.

ربيع المدخلي في كل كتبه الشدّة موجودة

The smell of the eucalyptus had wafted for miles offshore from Albany, and when the scent faded away he was suddenly sick at the loss of something he didn't know he could miss.

And Bernice Johnson, who organized the Albany Freedom Singers and was expelled from Albany State College for her determined involvement in the movement.

Indeed, in 1976, fifteen years after he arrived and was arrested, Charles Sherrod was elected to the Albany city commission.

He was from upstate New York. Albany or something. A small city so buried in snow it looked flat white in satellite pictures for a third of the year.

She called Warberg, who said he absolutely couldn’t take the case. Regina had lowered her bulldozer blade again. Warberg ended up not only taking the case but agreeing to go immediately to Albany,

Nine o'clock in the morning, the World Trade Center on its own is the sixth largest city in New York State. Bigger than Albany. Only sixteen acres of land, but a daytime population of 130,000 people.

The Black Power advocates are disenchanted with the inconsistencies in the militaristic posture of our government. Over the past decade they have seen America applauding nonviolence whenever the Negroes have practiced it. They have watched it being praised in the sit-in movements of 1960, in the Freedom Riots of 1961, in the Albany movement of 1962, in the Birmingham movement of 1963 and in the Selma movement of 1965. But then these same black young men and women have watched as America sends black young men to burn Vietnamese with napalm, to slaughter men, women, and children; and they wonder what kind of nation it is that applauds nonviolence whenever Negroes face white people in the streets of the United State but then applauds violence and burning and death when these same Negroes are sent to the fields of Vietnam.

The marches in Albany concentrated on city hall where they had little leverage and no votes. “All of our marches in Albany,” said Martin, “were to the city hall trying to make them negotiate, where if we had centered our protests at the businesses in the city, [we could have] made the merchants negotiate. And if you can pull them around, you pull the political power structure because the political power structure listens to the economic power structure.

One indulgence alone from time to time I allow myself, - 'tis Music! which has power to delight me even to rapture! it quiets all anxiety, it carries me out of myself, I forget through it every calamity, even the bitterest anguish.

My grandest boyhood ambition was to be a professor of history at Notre Dame. Although what I do now is just a different way of working with history, I suppose.”) He told me about his blind-in-one-eye canary rescued from a Woolworth’s who woke him singing every morning of his boyhood; the bout of rheumatic fever that kept him in bed for six months; and the queer little antique neighborhood library with frescoed ceilings (“torn down now, alas”) where he’d gone to get away from his house. About Mrs. De Peyster, the lonely old heiress he’d visited after school, a former Belle of Albany and local historian who clucked over Hobie and fed him Dundee cake ordered from England in tins, who was happy to stand for hours explaining to Hobie every single item in her china cabinet and who had owned, among other things, the mahogany sofa—rumored to have belonged to General Herkimer—that got him interested in furniture in the first place.

He had studied philosophy as a young man, but clay really spoke to him. I like mud, he explained. And then he went on to explain the Earth's magnetism, and why clay does stick together and it's about ions and stuff. And there are specific muds, or clays. For instance, this: red. Deep deep beautiful red. Albany slip. I stand there in awe, slipping around in worlds of specialization. The endless details, but the Earth is a big wad of it, mud. And that would be a huge start, to know that you liked it. There it is.

Point Partageuse got its name from French explorers who mapped the cape that jutted from the south-western corner of the Australian continent well before the British dash to colonize the west began in 1826. Since then, settlers had trickled north from Albany and south from the Swan River Colony, laying claim to the virgin forests in the hundreds of miles between. Cathedral-high trees were felled with handsaws to create grazing pasture; scrawny roads were hewn inch by stubborn inch by pale-skinned fellows with teams of shire horses, as this land, which had never before been scarred by man, was excoriated and burned, mapped and measured and meted out to those willing to try their luck in a hemisphere which might bring them desperation, death, or fortune beyond their dreams.

We’re not always in full control of our actions. I’d be out of a job if we were.’ He picked up his hat. ‘I’ll leave you in peace. Let you think about things. But there isn’t a lot of time left. Once the magistrate gets here and sends them off to Albany, there’s nothing I can do about it.’ He walked through the door into the dazzle of daylight, where the sun was burning the last of the clouds away from the east. Hannah fetched the dustpan and brush, her body moving without any apparent instruction. She swept up the shards of glass, checking carefully.

Underneath all the laughs and the gags, it was always about one thing: survival. Tanqueray was a lot of fun. But Tanqueray was Stephanie. And Stephanie was a teenage runaway from Albany: doing what she needed to do, and being who she needed to be, to get what she needed to get.

Toward Florence he was specially drawn by the fact that Alfieri now lived there; but, as often happens after such separations, the reunion was a disappointment. Alfieri, indeed, warmly welcomed his friend; but he was engrossed in his dawning passion for the Countess of Albany, and

In the 1740s the Iroquois wearied of dealing with several often bickering English colonies and suggested that the colonies form a union similar to the league. In 1754 Benjamin Franklin, who had spent much time among the Iroquois observing their deliberations, pleaded with colonial leaders to consider his Albany Plan of Union: “It would be a strange thing if six nations of ignorant savages should be capable of forming a scheme for such a union and be able to execute it in such a manner as that it has subsisted ages and appears insoluble; and yet that a like union should be impracticable for ten or a dozen English colonies.”53

Most everybody's asleep in Grover's Corners. There are a few lights on. Shorty Hawkins, down at the depot, has just watched the Albany train go by. And at the livery stable somebody's setting up late and talking. Yes, it's clearing up. There are the stars doing their old, old crisscross journeys in the sky. Scholars haven't settled the matter yet, but they seem to think there are no living beings up there. Just chalk…or fire. Only this one is straining away, straining away all the time to make something of itself. The strain's so bad that every sixteen hours everybody lies down and gets a rest. Hm…Eleven o'clock in Grover's Corners…You get a good rest, too. Good night.

What black men, women, children did in Albany at that time was heroic. They overcame a century of passivity, and they did it without the help of the national government. They learned that despite the Constitution, despite the promises, despite the political rhetoric of the government, whatever they accomplished in the future would have to come from them.

Making such leaps (into the dark) requires us to be brave and determined, but doing so may also freeze other possibilities. It is easier to renounce bravery, rather than be brave over and over. It could not, in her case, be done again. The will and the nerve needed for such actions do not come to us often, any of us, least of all Isabel Archer from Albany.

Later, you can tell me their names and I will rip their souls from their bodies.” Grim relaxes his grip on my leg. “You say the sweetest things.” I trace my finger down his nose.

What’s the worst that could happen?

I will be her silent protector, her personal shadow.

When I’m done with you, little flower, you won’t run from anyone.

I plan on savoring you. Especially if this is our last night together.

When you need to escape life's rough edges for a few hours, nothing could beat seeing a great film.

Some kids would be much better off without the added confusion of an adult point of view. It destroys the purity of their world.

He’s super gorgeous and doesn’t really date,

There is still so much more to say ...

I think I would like to tame him.

In the year 1824, in a pleasant town located between Schenectady and Albany, stood the handsome colonial residence of Hamilton Van Rensselaer. Solemn hedges shut in the family pride and hid the family sorrow, and about the borders of its spacious gardens, where even the roses seemed subdued, there played a child. The stately house oppressed her, and she loved the sombre garden best.

You have always told me it was Ernest. I have introduced you to every one as Ernest. You answer to the name of Ernest. You look as if your name was Ernest. You are the most earnest-looking person I ever saw in my life. It is perfectly absurd your saying that your name isn’t Ernest. It’s on your cards. Here is one of them. [Taking it from case.] ‘Mr. Ernest Worthing, B. 4, The Albany.

From the time of the birth of the madhabs around the second century until now, an overwhelming majority of the Umma (Muslim nation) has been following them. In fact, for hundreds of years, there was not a single Scholar worth the name except that he belonged to one of the madhabs including Al-Shaykh Ibn Taymiyya and his most famous student Ibn Al-Qayyim who were both followers of the Hanbali school.

the American population was increasing rapidly, from 5.3 million in 1800 to 12.9 million in 1830, and from sixteen states in 1800 to twenty-four in 1830, most of the increase across the mountains in the trans-Appalachian west. The river steamboat from 1807, the Erie Canal between Albany, New York, and the Great Lakes from 1825, railroads from 1829, penetrated the American wilderness and fostered its settlement. These new places and people needed lighting.

Look, for those of you sitting here feeling bad about yourself because you're in danger of failing out, don't beat yourself up too badly. Just remember, you're still in law school-something thousands of others wanted but were denied. And for those of you at the top of your class, feeling great about yourselves and thinking, "Ive got it made," just remember: you're still at Albany." However low you are, there is always something to feel proud of, and however high you are, there is always something to humble you.

It stood on the east side of Ten Broeck Street, a three-block street in Arbor Hill named for a Revolutionary War hero and noted in the 1870s and 1880s as the place where a dozen of the city’s arriviste lumber barons lived, all in a row, in competitive luxury.

When the people kept leaving, the South resorted to coercion and interception worthy of the Soviet Union, which was forming at the same time across the Atlantic. Those trying to leave were rendered fugitives by definition and could not be certain they would be able to make it out. In Brookhaven, Mississippi, authorities stopped a train with fifty colored migrants on it and sidetracked it for three days. In Albany, Georgia, the police tore up the tickets of colored passengers as they stood waiting to board, dashing their hopes of escape. A minister in South Carolina, having seen his parishioners off, was arrested at the station on the charge of helping colored people get out. In Savannah, Georgia, the police arrested every colored person at the station regardless of where he or she was going. In Summit, Mississippi, authorities simply closed the ticket office and did not let northbound trains stop for the colored people waiting to get on. Instead of stemming the tide, the blockades and arrests “served to intensify the desire to leave,” wrote the sociologists Willis T. Weatherford and Charles S. Johnson, “and to provide further reasons for going.

...the founders of our nation were nearly all Infidels, and that of the presidents who had thus far been elected {George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, James Monroe, John Quincy Adams, and Andrew Jackson}, not a one had professed a belief in Christianity... When the war was over and the victory over our enemies won, and the blessings and happiness of liberty and peace were secured, the Constitution was framed and God was neglected. He was not merely forgotten. He was absolutely voted out of the Constitution. The proceedings, as published by Thompson, the secretary, and the history of the day, show that the question was gravely debated whether God should be in the Constitution or not, and after a solemn debate he was deliberately voted out of it.... There is not only in the theory of our government no recognition of God's laws and sovereignty, but its practical operation, its administration, has been conformable to its theory. Those who have been called to administer the government have not been men making any public profession of Christianity... Washington was a man of valor and wisdom. He was esteemed by the whole world as a great and good man; but he was not a professing Christian... [Sermon by Reverend Bill Wilson (Episcopal) in October 1831, as published in the Albany Daily Advertiser the same month it was made]

Terkadang kelompok yang anti madzhab menggugat kita dengan pendapat sang pendiri madzhab atau para ulama dalam madzhab yang kita ikuti, seakan-akan mereka lebih konsisten dari kita dalam bermadzhab. Kaum Wahhabi ketika menggugat kita agar meninggalkan tahlilan dan selamatan tujuh hari selalu beralasan dengan pendapat al-Imam as-Syafi'i yang mengatakan bahawa hadiah pahala bacaan al-Qur'an tidak akan sampai kepada mayit, atau pendapat kitab I'anah al-Thalibin yang melarang acara selamatan tahlilan selama tujuh hari. Padahal selain al-Imam as-Syafi'i menyatakan sampai. Kita kadang menjadi bingung menyikapi mereka. Terkadang mereka menggugat kita karena bermadzhab, yang mereka anggap telah meninggalkan al-Qur'an dan Sunnah. Dan terkadang mereka menggugat kita dengan pendapat imam madzhab dan apra ulama madzhab. Padahal mereka sering menyuarakan anti madzhab. Pada dasarnya kelompok anti madzhab itu bermadzhab. Hanay saja madzhab mereka berbeda dengan madzhab mayoritas kaum Muslimin. Ketika mereka menyuarakan anti tawassul, maka sebenarnya mereka mengikut pendapat Ibn Taimiyah dan Ibn Abdil Wahhab al-Najdi. Sedangkan kaum Muslimin yang bertawassul, mengikuti Rasulullah SAW, para sahabat, seluruh ulama salaf dan ahli hadits. Ketika mereka menyuarakan shalat tarawih 11 raka'at, maka sebenarnya mereka mengikut pendapat Nashiruddin al-Albani, seorang tukang jam yang beralih profesi menjadi muhaddits tanpa bimbingan seorang guru, dengan belajar secara otodidak di perpustakaan. Sedangkan kaum Muslimin yang tarawih 23 raka'at, mengikuti Sayidina Umar, para sahabat dan seluruh ulama salaf yang saleh yang tidak diragukan keilmuannya. Ketika mereka menyuarakan anti madzhab, maka sebenarnya mereka mengikut Rasyid Ridha, Muhammad Abduh dan Ibn Abdil Wahhab. Sedangkan kaum Muslimin yang bermadzhab, mengikuti ulama salaf dan seluruh ahli hadits. Demikian pula ketika mereka menyuarakan anti bid'ah hasanah, makas ebenarnya mereka mengikuti madzhab Rasyid Ridha dan Ibn Abdil Wahhab al-Najid. Sedangkan kaum Muslimin yang berpendapat adanya bid'ah hasanah, mengikuti Rasulullah SAW, Khulafaur Rasyidin, para sahabat, ulama salaf dan hali hadits.

Conocía todas las ramificaciones de los parentescos neoyorquinos, y no sólo podía esclarecer cuestiones tan complicadas como los lazos entre los Mingott (por los Thorley) con los Dallas de Carolina del Sur, y la relación de la rama mayor de los Thorley de Filadelfia con los Chivers de Albany (que jamás deben confundirse con los Manson Chivers de University Place), sino que también podía enumerar las características principales de cada familia, como, por ejemplo, la fabulosa mezquindad de los descendientes más jóvenes de los Lefferts (los de Long Island); o la fatal tendencia de los Rushworth a los matrimonios disparatados; o la locura recurrente que sufrían cada dos generaciones los Chivers de Albany, con los cuales sus primos de Nueva York siempre rehusaron casarse, con la desastrosa excepción de la pobre Medora Manson, quien, como todos saben..., bueno, pero su madre era una Rushworth.

I turn and grab the seat so I can see Grim behind me. “You’re awfully quiet back there. Everything okay?” “I’m horny,” he says, as if it’s the perfect time to divulge such information. “Fucking hell.” Gunnar smacks his forehead on the steering wheel. “Me too, Loverboy, me too.” I turn around in my seat and wonder if we could find a few minutes alone to remedy the situation for both of us. Then I remember it’s Grim I’m thinking about. He doesn’t understand the meaning of ‘quickie.

When one person got involved, it took everybody else along. I went to jail first, but my entire family soon joined the Movement. One time, Faith & I ended up at home w all the babies from 2 households, because the mamas & the other older sisters were in jail. In the morning we had to plait everybody's hair & feed them--it was a mess! We had all the babies except Peaches Gaines, who was in jail with her mother & my mother. Peaches was jailed because she had not obeyed an officer. She was about 2. Her bond was set at, I believe, $125.00. --Joann Christian Mants

En arrivant à Albany, nous nous rendîmes directement vers un grand bâtiment moderne. Avec ses nombreuses vitres, son grand hall et ses standardistes, il ressemblait à n'importe quel immeuble de bureaux et collait parfaitement avec l'aménagement urbain de ce quartier de la ville. J'imaginais que c'était exactement l'effet escompté par les potioneuses qui mettaient un point d'honneur à ne jamais se faire remarquer par les humains depuis la sombre époque des chasses aux sorcières organisées par l’Église catholique en Europe. - Tu es certaine que c'est là ? - Tu t'attendait à quoi ? A une vieille bâtisse au fond d'un cimetière ? - Pourquoi un cimetière ? Les potioneuses ne communiquent pas avec les esprits que je sache ? Je levai les yeux au ciel. - C'est fou ce que tu peux être vieux jeu parfois, tu sais ? - J'ai le droit de trouver que ça manque d'originalité, tout de même ? - Pas la peine d'épiloguer là-dessus, de toute façon je vais le cramer. Elle me jeta un regard surpris. - Quoi ? - Ben l'immeuble, je vais le cramer, répondis-je. - Rebecca, c'est pas parce que je trouve qu'un édifice a un style d'architecture un peu trop banal ou aseptisé à mon goût qu’il faut te sentir obligée de l'incendier... souligna-t-elle tandis que je sortais de la voiture en riant. Dix minutes plus tard, le grimoire était en cendre, l'immeuble en flammes et le conseil des Huit entièrement décimé.

On Sunday, November 10, Kaiser Wilhelm II was dethroned, and he fled to Holland for his life. Britain’s King George V, who was his cousin, told his diary that Wilhelm was “the greatest criminal known for having plunged the world into this ghastly war,” having “utterly ruined his country and himself.” Keeping vigil at the White House, the President and First Lady learned by telephone, at three o’clock that morning, that the Germans had signed an armistice. As Edith later recalled, “We stood mute—unable to grasp the significance of the words.” From Paris, Colonel House, who had bargained for the armistice as Wilson’s envoy, wired the President, “Autocracy is dead. Long live democracy and its immortal leader. In this great hour my heart goes out to you in pride, admiration and love.” At 1:00 p.m., wearing a cutaway and gray trousers, Wilson faced a Joint Session of Congress, where he read out Germany’s surrender terms. He told the members that “this tragical war, whose consuming flames swept from one nation to another until all the world was on fire, is at an end,” and “it was the privilege of our own people to enter it at its most critical juncture.” He added that the war’s object, “upon which all free men had set their hearts,” had been achieved “with a sweeping completeness which even now we do not realize,” and Germany’s “illicit ambitions engulfed in black disaster.” This time, Senator La Follette clapped. Theodore Roosevelt and Senator Lodge complained that Wilson should have held out for unconditional German surrender. Driven down Capitol Hill, Wilson was cheered by joyous crowds on the streets. Eleanor Roosevelt recorded that Washington “went completely mad” as “bells rang, whistles blew, and people went up and down the streets throwing confetti.” Including those who had perished in theaters of conflict from influenza and other diseases, the nation’s nineteen-month intervention in the world war had levied a military death toll of more than 116,000 Americans, out of a total perhaps exceeding 8 million. There were rumors that Wilson planned to sail for France and horse-trade at the peace conference himself. No previous President had left the Americas during his term of office. The Boston Herald called this tradition “unwritten law.” Senator Key Pittman, Democrat from Nevada, told reporters that Wilson should go to Paris “because there is no man who is qualified to represent him.” The Knickerbocker Press of Albany, New York, was disturbed by the “evident desire of the President’s adulators to make this war his personal property.” The Free Press of Burlington, Vermont, said that Wilson’s presence in Paris would “not be seemly,” especially if the talks degenerated into “bitter controversies.” The Chattanooga Times called on Wilson to stay home, “where he could keep his own hand on the pulse of his own people” and “translate their wishes” into action by wireless and cable to his bargainers in Paris.

Meanwhile, he continued to speak out on behalf of black citizens. In March 1846, a terrifying massacre took place in Seward’s hometown. A twenty-three-year-old black man named William Freeman, recently released from prison after serving five years for a crime it was later determined he did not commit, entered the home of John Van Nest, a wealthy farmer and friend of Seward’s. Armed with two knives, he killed Van Nest, his pregnant wife, their small child, and Mrs. Van Nest’s mother. When he was caught within hours, Freeman immediately confessed. He exhibited no remorse and laughed uncontrollably as he spoke. The sheriff hauled him away, barely reaching the jail ahead of an enraged mob intent upon lynching him. “I trust in the mercy of God that I shall never again be a witness to such an outburst of the spirit of vengeance as I saw while they were carrying the murderer past our door,” Frances Seward told her husband, who was in Albany at the time. “Fortunately, the law triumphed.” Frances recognized at once an “incomprehensible” aspect to the entire affair, and she was correct. Investigation revealed a history of insanity in Freeman’s family. Moreover, Freeman had suffered a series of floggings in jail that had left him deaf and deranged. When the trial opened, no lawyer was willing to take Freeman’s case. The citizens of Auburn had threatened violence against any member of the bar who dared to defend the cold-blooded murderer. When the court asked, “Will anyone defend this man?” a “death-like stillness pervaded the crowded room,” until Seward rose, his voice strong with emotion, and said, “May it please the court, I shall remain counsel for the prisoner until his death!

ALGERNON: I suspected that, my dear fellow! I have Bunburyed all over Shropshire on two separate occasions. Now, go on. Why are you Ernest in town and Jack in the country? JACK: My dear Algy, I don’t know whether you will be able to understand my real motives. You are hardly serious enough. When one is placed in the position of guardian, one has to adopt a very high moral tone on all subjects. It’s one’s duty to do so. And as a high moral tone can hardly be said to conduce very much to either one’s health or one’s happiness, in order to get up to town I have always pretended to have a younger brother of the name of Ernest, who lives in the Albany, and gets into the most dreadful scrapes. That, my dear Algy, is the whole truth pure and simple. ALGERNON: The truth is rarely pure and never simple. Modern life would be very tedious if it were either, and modern literature a complete impossibility! JACK: That wouldn’t be at all a bad thing. ALGERNON: Literary criticism is not your forte, my dear fellow. Don’t try it. You should leave that to people who haven’t been at a University. They do it so well in the daily papers. What you really are is a Bunburyist. I was quite right in saying you were a Bunburyist. You are one of the most advanced Bunburyists I know. JACK: What on earth do you mean? ALGERNON: You have invented a very useful younger brother called Ernest, in order that you may be able to come up to town as often as you like. I have invented an invaluable permanent invalid called Bunbury, in order that I may be able to go down into the country whenever I choose. Bunbury is perfectly invaluable. If it wasn’t for Bunbury’s extraordinary bad health, for instance, I wouldn’t be able to dine with you at Willis’s to-night, for I have been really engaged to Aunt Augusta for more than a week.

Charles’s childhood coincided with America’s first great depression, the Panic of 1837, which lasted a Biblical seven years. A newspaper out of Albany, the Knickerbocker, reported in 1837 that “there never was a time like this,” with “rumor after rumor of riot, insurrection, and tumult.”26 Banks collapsed, and unemployment climbed to 25 percent. Factories along the eastern seaboard were shuttered, and soup kitchens opened in major cities. Two out of three New Yorkers were said to be without means of support. Eight states defaulted on loans. In his literary magazine, Horace Greeley made the first of his famous entreaties to pull up stakes: “Fly, scatter through the country, go to the Great West, anything rather than remain here.”27

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Let me ask you something. We’re fighting for freedom, right?” I picked my words carefully. “So why is that man allowed to own Baumfree and Bett?” “Well,” he said slowly, “we’re fighting for our freedom. Not theirs.” He crossed his arms, uncrossed them, put his hands on his belt and crossed his arms again. “Nobody in my family owns slaves, you know.” “That is not the point. Do you think only white people can be free?” “Of course not. There are plenty of free blacks, like you and those other fellows in Saratoga and Albany. We had a family two villages over from mine, they were all free black people.” “But the colonel’s slaves are not allowed to be free.” He frowned. “They can’t be free, Curzon. They’re slaves. Their master decides for them.” “What if they ran away?” “Then they’d be breaking the law.” “Bad laws deserve to be broken.” “Don’t talk like that!” He kicked a rock deep into the field. “You want to get in trouble? Laws have to be followed or else you go to the jail.” “What if a king made bad laws; laws so unnatural that a country broke them by declaring its freedom?

Before sodium carbonate in the form of baking soda was manufactured, potash was used in baking. Amelia Simmon’s cookbook, originally published in Hartford and then Albany in 1796, is considered the first American cookbook not only because it was published after the Revolution, but because it was written by an American, for Americans. Simmons used enormous quantities for apparently huge cakes. One recipe, for “Independence cake,” called for twenty pounds of flour, fifteen pounds of sugar, ten pounds of butter, and twenty-four eggs. Many of her baking recipes called for “pearl-ash,” which was potash, as a rising agent.

A sick smile forms on my lips. Woe to the witch who thought to take what is mine.

Two things I hate: cooking and cleaning.

I lower my hands from his shoulders and return the favor by sliding my them up and under his shirt.

across

Outside, we all exclaimed at the warm summer night air. After the frigid damp of Albany, it felt luxurious. Pulling his small suitcase, duffel slung over his shoulder, Michael spun around in a circle, his eyes closed and bliss written all over his beautiful face. His…wait… What had I thought? I laughed to myself. I was really getting into character, apparently.

Once everyone who felt the need to run had fled, the Albany resort reminded me of New Orleans a week after Hurricane Katrina.

Because I can’t fuck you like I need to. I can’t be inside you, shoving myself so deep, you’ll beg me to stop because you’re afraid you’ll never get me out of you.

The Brevoorts were an old Albany family whose fortune had not kept up with their name. It had taken three generations of failed politicians and novelists to reduce them to a state of dignified precariousness.

I remember one big red-eyed black whom we met by the roadside. Forty-five years he had labored on this farm, beginning with nothing, and still having nothing. To be sure, he had given four children a common-school training, and perhaps if the new fence-law had not allowed unfenced crops in West Dougherty he might have raised a little stock and kept ahead. As it is, he is hopelessly in debt, disappointed, and embittered. He stopped us to inquire after the black boy in Albany, whom it was said a policeman had shot and killed for loud talking on the sidewalk. And then he said slowly: “Let a white man touch me, and he dies; I don’t boast this,—I don’t say it around loud, or before the children,—but I mean it. I’ve seen them whip my father and my old mother in them cotton-rows till the blood ran; by—” and we passed on.

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He's clearly not suited to the public rigors of this role. Encouraging the delusions of a mentally ill---" Johnny had finally reached his limit. "That's it." Releasing Rosie, he walked to the door and pulled it open. "Your Highness. Lancier. Get out." Sylvie couldn't repress an instinctive snort at the look on the duchess's face. Every affronted, outraged GIF in history had just come to life in this room. If the Prince of Wales never had a child, it was possible that the Duchess of Albany could one day become Queen Consort. At the very least, she would hopefully much sooner become Johnny's mother-in-law. He did not give one single shit. "Out," he said again, his entire demeanor brooking no opposition. The duchess was the most stereotypical type of bully. When faced with a dose of her own medicine, she retreated. With a malevolent glare at the offspring who'd foisted this man on her.

He grabs my throat, pulling my head back even farther. “I can’t let you out of my sight. Obsessed isn’t a big enough word to describe the way I need to possess you.” He presses his lips against mine, the kiss hard and punishing, and I wonder if it’s because of what he just admitted.

Dr. Perrin Edwards has made indelible contributions to the field of podiatry, notably as Vice President of Podiatry in the Albany Chapter.

They were subject to the British Crown, unless, like the Plymouth colony, "a law unto themselves," but they were independent of each other—the only point which has any bearing upon their subsequent relations. There was no other bond between them than that of their common allegiance to the Government of the mother-country. As an illustration of this may be cited the historical fact that, when John Stark, of Bennington memory, was before the Revolution engaged in a hunting expedition in the Indian country, he was captured by the savages and brought to Albany, in the colony of New York, for a ransom; but, inasmuch as he belonged to New Hampshire, the government of New York took no action for his release.

Some days, the supply of curse words available is insufficient to meet my demands.

Owing, among other factors, to the exceedingly slow working of the lunacy commission, Bob’s trial was postponed until the fall of 1938. By then the city had a new district attorney: Thomas E. Dewey, the fearless young “gangbuster” whose relentless crusade against racketeers like Dutch Schultz and Lucky Luciano would propel him to the governor’s mansion in Albany and two runs for the White House as the Republican presidential candidate in 1944 and 1948.

I wouldn’t mind bein’ buried right here,” Francis told Rudy. “You from around here?” “Used to be. Born here.” “Your family here?” “Some.” “Who’s that?” “You keep askin’ questions about me, I’m gonna give you a handful of answers.

We could eat, why not? We’re sober, so he’ll let us in, the bastard. I ate there the other night, had a bowl of soup because I was starvin’. But god it was sour. Them dried-out bums that live there, they sit down and eat like fuckin’ pigs, and everything that’s left they throw in the pot and give it to you. Slop.” “He puts out a good meal, though.

In 1900, Kramrath had earned modest fame locally, as one of just four people in Albany to own an automobile. Two years later he was one of fifteen motorists to set out on a driving expedition for Petersburg, New York, about twenty-eight miles away; just four of them made it to their destination, Kramrath among them. In celebration they feasted at the home of the mother of Kramrath’s good friend Chauncey D. Hakes, a prominent motorist and charter member of the Albany Automobile Club who fraternized with Henry Ford, Thomas Edison, Harvey S. Firestone, and James R. Watt, who would be Albany’s Republican mayor from 1918 to 1921.

I left because I love you and didn’t want you to lose anything because of me!

you from me again, even if it pisses you off. Matter of fact, I like pissing you off. It shows me I get under your skin the way you burrowed into mine.

Dodge Caravan three weeks ago, out in Pittsfield.’ Pittsfield, she thought, right across the state border from Albany. Where a woman vanished just last month. She stood with the receiver pressed to her ear, her pulse starting to hammer. ‘Where’s that van now?’ ‘Our team sat tight and didn’t follow it. By the time they heard back about the plates, it was gone. It hasn’t come back.’ ‘Let’s change out that car and move it to a parallel street. Bring in a second team to watch the house. If the van comes by again, we can do a leapfrog tail. Two cars, taking turns.’ ‘Right, I’m headed over there now.’ She hung up. Turned to look into the interview room where Charles Cassell was still sitting at the table, his head bowed. Is that love or obsession I’m looking at? she wondered. Sometimes, you couldn’t tell the difference. Twenty-eight DAYLIGHT WAS FADING when Rizzoli cruised up Dedham Parkway. She spotted Frost’s car and pulled up behind him. Climbed out of her car and slid into his passenger seat. ‘And?’ she said. ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Not a damn thing.’ ‘Shit. It’s been over an hour. Did we scare him off?’ ‘There’s still a chance it wasn’t Lank.’ ‘White van, stolen plates from Pittsfield?’ ‘Well, it didn’t hang around. And it hasn’t been back.’ ‘When’s the last time Van Gates left the house?’ ‘He and the wife went grocery shopping around noon. They’ve been home ever since.’ ‘Let’s cruise by. I want to take a look.’ Frost drove past the house, moving slowly enough for her to get a good long gander at Tara-on-Sprague-Street. They passed the surveillance team, parked at the other end of the block, then turned the corner and pulled over. Rizzoli said: ‘Are you sure they’re home?’ ‘Team hasn’t seen either one of them leave since noon.’ ‘That house looked awfully dark to me.’ They sat there for a few minutes, as dusk deepened. As Rizzoli’s uneasiness grew. She’d seen no lights on. Were both husband and wife asleep? Had they slipped out without the surveillance team seeing them? What was that van doing in this neighborhood? She looked at Frost. ‘That’s it. I’m not going to wait any longer. Let’s pay a visit.’ Frost circled back to the house and parked. They rang the bell, knocked on the door. No one answered. Rizzoli stepped off the porch, backed up the walkway, and gazed up at the southern plantation facade with its priapic white columns. No lights were on upstairs, either. The van, she thought. It was here for a reason. Frost said, ‘What do you think?’ Rizzoli could feel her heart starting to punch, could feel prickles of unease. She cocked her head, and Frost got the message: We’re going around back. She circled to the side yard and swung open a gate. Saw just a narrow brick walkway, abutted by a fence. No room for a garden, and barely room for the two trash cans sitting there. She stepped through the gate. They had no warrant, but something was wrong here, something that was making her hands tingle, the same hands that had been scarred by Warren Hoyt’s blade. A monster leaves his mark on your flesh, on your instincts. Forever after, you can feel it when another one passes by. With Frost right behind her, she moved past dark windows and a central air-conditioning unit that blew warm air against her chilled flesh. Quiet, quiet. They were trespassing now, but all she wanted was a peek in the windows, a look in the back door. She rounded the corner and found a small backyard, enclosed by a fence. The rear gate was open. She crossed the yard to that gate and looked into the alley beyond it. No one there. She started toward the house and was almost at the back door when she noticed it was ajar. She and Frost exchanged a look. Both their weapons came out. It had happened so quickly, so automatically, that she did not even remember having drawn hers. Frost gave the back door a push, and it swung

I will not just be fucking you, Damiana,” Grim whispers into my ear, and bites the bottom of my earlobe. I hold my breath and dig my fingernails into his ass. Is this it? Was he just trying to make me desperate for him to prove something? “I’m going to worship you, and if you’re a good girl…” Grim pinches my nipple between two fingers. My breath leaves my lungs with a heavy pant. “I’ll let you have my soul.” Even with as turned on as I am, his words register, and I push Grim’s shoulders back so I can see his face. “Why would I want your soul?” I search his eyes. Does he think I want to feed off of him? Grim’s eyes are heavy-lidded as he gazes down at me. “Because it’s already yours.

I want to sink my face into the space behind her ear, inhale her scent, and listen to her breath catch from my touch. I want to run my lips and teeth along the inside of her thigh and drown in her. I have to shut my eyes and gather strength so I do not wrap my arms around her and pull her back into my body.

Courting is for those who lack the will to possess, and you seized me the moment you took a breath in my presence. What I will do is worship you, protect you, and train you so I know I will never lose you.

My voice is low and filled with need. I’d rather pluck out my own fingernails than release her, but I pry my fingertips off her one by one until she pulls away from me and rubs the side of her temple like she has a headache.

My guts feel like someone just shoved a corkscrew down my throat and gave them a mix. I don’t know if I want to throw up or peel my skin off. The one thing I know is that I want to see her again, and I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to fight the urge.