Ashcroft Quotes

If the events of September 11, 2001, have proven anything, it's that the terrorists can attack us, but they can't take away what makes us American -- our freedom, our liberty, our civil rights. No, only Attorney General John Ashcroft can do that.

If there's a child on the south side of Chicago who can't read, that matters to me, even if it's not my child. If there's a senior citizen somewhere who can't pay for their prescription, who has to choose between medicine and the rent, that makes my life poorer - even if it's not my grandparent. If there's an Arab-American or Mexican-American family being rounded up by John Ashcroft without benefit of an attorney or due process, I know that that threatens my civil liberties. And I don't have to be a woman to be concerned that the Supreme Court is trying to take away a woman's right, because I know that my rights are next. It is that fundamental belief - I am my brother’s keeper, I am my sister’s keeper - that makes this country work.

Women and our right to choose were going to be challenged with Ashcroft around. When Bush appointed Ashcroft, I went out and got me four abortions. I stocked up. The doctor was like, 'Listen, you're not pregnant.' I said, 'Hey, just shut up and do your job. I'm exercising my right while I can, dammit.

Be careful whenever everything is given to you,” Mr. Ashcroft said. “Because then you’ll be totally beholden to your masters.

At the time, the United States had an attorney general named John Ashcroft, who had stated that America had “no king but Jesus” (a claim that was exactly two words too long).

Draft-dodging is what chicken-hawks do best. Dick Cheney, Glenn Beck, Karl Rove, Rush Limbaugh (this capon claimed he had a cyst on his fat ass), Newt Gingrich, former Attorney General John Ashcroft—he received seven deferments to teach business education at Southwest Missouri State—pompous Bill O’Reilly, Jeb Bush, hey, throw in John Wayne—they were all draft-dodgers. Not a single one of these mouth-breathing, cowardly, and meretricious buffoons fought for his country. All plumped for deferments. Former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani? Did not serve. Former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney? Did not serve in the military. (He served the Mormon Church on a thirty-month mission to France.) Former Senator Fred Thompson? Did not serve. Former President Ronald Reagan? Due to poor eyesight, he served in a noncombat role making movies for the Army in southern California during WWII. He later seems to have confused his role as an actor playing a tail gunner with the real thing. Did Rahm Emanuel serve? Yes, he did during the Gulf War 1991—in the Israeli Army. John Boehner did not serve, not a fucking second. Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell, R-KY? Not a minute! Former Senate Majority Leader Trent Lott, R-MS? Avoided the draft. Senate Minority Whip Jon Kyl, R-AZ—did not serve. National Republican Senatorial Committee Chair John Cornyn, R-TX—did not serve. Former Senate Republican Policy Committee Chair John Ensign, R-NV? Did not serve. Jack Kemp? Dan Quayle? Never served a day. Not an hour. Not an afternoon. These are the jackasses that cherish memorial services and love to salute and adore hearing “Taps.

First Amendment freedoms are most in danger when the government seeks to control thought or to justify its laws for that impermissible end. The right to think is the beginning of freedom, and speech must be protected from the government because speech is the beginning of thought." [Ashcroft v. Free Speech Coalition (00-795), 198 F.3d 1083, affirmed.]

No sex, huh? That sucks, cause I'd love to have sex with you.

Owen was just beginning to get comfortable with the idea that people didn't get over the things that happened to them. They got past them.

Former Senator John Ashcroft and former Senator John Kerry are renegade CIA officers who were elected to the Senate after the KGB was exposed. Ashcroft went on to have an “official cover” as U.S. Attorney General under President George W. Bush, and Kerry went on to have an “official cover” as U.S. Secretary of State under President Barack Obama. Both Kerry and Ashcroft were

To really understand something is to be liberated from it. Humanity's greatest ally is the self-educated individual, who has read, understood, delays their gratification, and walks around with their eyes wide open.

The worst mistake a boss can make is not to say 'Well done'.

Milestones aren't the most important part of the journey. They're just there to show you how far you've come.

Bisexuality, as it turned out, was a little like a crocodile. Usually hidden under the surface and hard to tell from an alligator until you got close.

Tarquin Vale. The Earl of Ashcroft. Plotocrat. Collector. Devotee of reformist politics. Rake. Debauchee. Hellspawn. Unwitting key to a future greater than she'd dreamed was possible.

Justice Scalia wrote for the Court that former attorney general Ashcroft was protected by qualified immunity because there was no clearly established law that his conduct was unconstitutional.

President George W. Bush. He worked directly under CIA “asset” James Comey, who held the position of Deputy Attorney General, and Comey worked directly under CIA officer John Ashcroft, the Attorney General of the United States. As FBI Director, Wray worked directly under Attorney General William Barr, who, like Wray, is a CIA officer who used an “official cover.” Barr was “officially” in the CIA in the 1970s, first with the CIA’s Intelligence Directorate from 1973 to 1975 and then with the CIA’s Office of Legislative Counsel from 1975 to 1977.[357] Shortly after CIA officer George H. W. Bush became President, he appointed Barr to be an Assistant

To understand the workings of American politics, you have to understand this fundamental law: Conservatives think liberals are stupid. Liberals think conservatives are evil. For the first side of this equation, I need no sources. As a conservative, I can confidently attest that whatever else my colleagues might disagree about—Bosnia, John McCain, precisely how many orphans we’re prepared to throw into the snow so the rich can have their tax cuts—we all agree that liberals are stupid. We mean this, of course, in the nicest way. Liberals tend to be nice, and they believe—here is where they go stupid—that most everybody else is nice too. Deep down, that is. Sure, you’ve got your multiple felon and your occasional war criminal, but they’re undoubtedly depraved ’cause they’re deprived. If only we could get social conditions right—eliminate poverty, teach anger management, restore the ozone, arrest John Ashcroft—everyone would be holding hands smiley-faced, rocking back and forth to “We Shall Overcome.” Liberals believe that human nature is fundamentally good. The fact that this is contradicted by, oh, 4,000 years of human history simply tells them how urgent is the need for their next seven-point program for the social reform of everything.

But I am scared. Everybody's scared." "You know what I mean, like scared scared. Like coward scared, like if you never went to begin with. But with everything you've done nobody's going to doubt you." Then she made a somewhat frantic speech about a website she found that listed how certain people had avoided Vietnam. Cheney, Four education deferments, then a hardship 3-A. Limbaugh,4-F thanks to a cyst on his ass. Pat Buchanan, 4-F. Newt Gingrich, grad school deferment. Karl Rove, did not serve. Bill O'Reilly, did not serve. John Ashcroft, did not serve. Bush, AWOL from the Air National Guard, with a check mark in the "do not volunteer" box as to service overseas. "You see where I'm going with this?' "Well, yeah." "I'm just saying, those people want a war so bad, they can fight it themselves. Billy Lynn's done his part.

The library no more belonged to Ashcroft and his plot than Elizabeth belonged to the unknown parents who had brought her into this world. It possessed a life of its own, had become something greater than Cornelius had ever intended. For these were not ordinary books the libraries kept. They were knowledge, given life. Wisdom, given voice. They sang when starlight streamed through the library's windows. They felt pain and suffered heartbreak. Sometimes they were sinister, grotesque-but so was the world outside. And that made the world no less worth fighting for, because wherever there was darkness, there was also so much light.

That is how it was with them. A closeness, a rapport that was almost entire, except for these small niggling uncertainties which, most of the time, she [Janey Ashcroft] was able to ignore, but sometimes, like tonight, grew like balloons to such size and importance that she wondered how she was going to be able to cope with them. ['Anniversary']

All I want is someone who can fill the hole In the life I know In between life and death When there's nothing left.

Well, I was able to write in further reply to Dennis Prager, now you have your answer. The nineteen suicide murderers of New York and Washington and Pennsylvania were beyond any doubt the most sincere believers on those planes. Perhaps we can hear a little less about how "people of faith" possess moral advantages that others can only envy. And what is to be learned from the jubilation and the ecstatic propaganda with which this great feat of fidelity has been greeted in the Islamic world? At the time, the United States has an attorney general named John Ashcroft, who had stated that America had "no king but Jesus" (a claim that was exactly two words too long). It had a president who wanted to hand over the care of the poor to "faith based" institutions. Might this not be a moment where the light of reason, and the defense of a society that separated church and state and valued free expression and free inquiry, be granted a point or two?

Almost all divers wear goggles or a face-mask as without them the eyes are unable to focus underwater and everything appears blurred. This is because when a light ray passes from one medium to another – in this case from air (or water) into the eye – it is bent (refracted). This property is used to help focus the light rays on the layer of light-sensitive cells, known as the retina, at the back of the eye. The extent to which a light ray is bent at the surface of the eye is very much less in water than in air, which makes it impossible to focus the image on the retina. Maintaining an air space next to the eye, by wearing goggles or a face-mask, obviates the problem. But because the light rays will now be refracted by the glass/water interface of the mask, objects appear some 30 per cent larger and closer underwater than they do in air. It may be useful to remember this when listening to divers’ tales of giant sharks.

Ashcroft, the U.S. Congress, and three-quarters of the American people would like to see the punishments for breaking these hallowed commandments also specified in marble and placed in our nation’s courts. What, after all, is the punishment for taking the Lord’s name in vain? It happens to be death (Leviticus 24:16). What is the punishment for working on the Sabbath? Also death (Exodus 31:15). What is the punishment for cursing one’s father or mother? Death again (Exodus 21:17). What is the punishment for adultery? You’re catching on (Leviticus 20:10). While the commandments themselves are difficult to remember (especially

By the end of that summer in Ashcroft my father had nearly run out of stories. He’d almost read his father’s full library and arrived at last at Moby Dick. The edition I have is a Penguin paperback (Book 2,333, Herman Melville, Penguin, London). It’s been well-thumbed, at least triple-read, there’s that smell the fat orange-spine Penguins get when their pages have yellowed and the book bulges, basically the smell of complex humanity, sort of sweat and salt and endeavour. Like all the fat orange Penguins, it gets fatter with reading, which it should, because in a way the more you read it the bigger your own experience of the world gets, the fatter your soul. Try it, you’ll see.

As psychologist Dr. Susan Engel says, curiosity ‘can be understood as the human need to resolve uncertainty.’ Another survival mechanism.

I’d like to have the chance to make new memories with you too,’ she said quietly. ‘And this time I’ll take the bad with the good, because you’re right, life is a mixture of them both. It’s how we learn what to be grateful for, what to cherish and hold onto – and what to move on from when it’s time.

If heaven calls, I'm coming too Just like you said You leave my life, I'm better off dead

Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, that's life Tryna make ends meet, you're a slave to money then you die

You come in on your own And you leave on your own Forget the lovers you've known And your friends on the road.

What do people really believe in anymore apart sports and music?

Now the drugs don't work They just make you worse But I know I'll see your face again

What do people really believe in anymore apart from sports and music?

like a dog baffled by the ways of the human world.

You watch, anyone who gets dragged into

Like me he's an only child, which meant that in lieu of siblings we both had a highly developed imagination.

As a prominent real estate broker, Darren Ashcroft specializes in revamping old properties into modern spaces. His upbringing in a supportive NY community fostered a robust work ethic and deep architectural appreciation.

seating. Would

Because I might, one day, I didn’t say. Because I will, one day. Because I want to, one day.

Lots of people aren’t courageous enough to follow the life they were born to.

She could hear the waves licking lazily over the cove’s pebbles below. The Greeks had a word, just for that fizzing sound they made. Flisvos.

Those who do not read are at the mercy of those who do.

On August 1, the Justice Department’s Office of Legal Counsel granted the CIA’s request to begin water-boarding Abu Zubaydah. The technique, tantamount to torture, was designed to elicit confessions through the threat of imminent death by drowning. That same day John Yoo, now a deputy to Attorney General Ashcroft, advised the White House that the laws against torture did not apply to American interrogators. The president, the vice president, the secretary of defense, and the director of Central Intelligence approved. The

By the time George Bush’s re-election campaign got under way in 2004, there was little doubt he’d make terrorism the focal point of all of his speeches and press conferences. His surrogates went farther still, overtly portraying a vote for his Democratic rival, Senator John Kerry, as an invitation to annihilation. “If we make the wrong choice,” Vice President Dick Cheney warned a Des Moines audience, “the danger is that we’ll get hit again—that we’ll be hit in a way that will be devastating from the standpoint of the United States.” In May, just prior to the Democratic Convention, Attorney General John Ashcroft announced that al Qaeda’s preparations for an attack were 90 percent complete; immediately after the convention, the Department of Homeland Security issued yet another terrorist alert, which diverted America’s attention away from Kerry and back to the “wartime” president, George Bush. The strategy worked.

When their heads were turned, Janet Ashcroft scrunched her face and stuck her tongue out at them.

He kissed her palm and said simply, “They're brilliant.” Cat drew a ragged breath, realizing that it was the first one she had allowed herself for a long time. “Ashcroft didn't think so,” she said. “He told me they were cold and empty. Like me.” “Ashcroft has the aesthetics of diarrhea.

And then John Ashcroft did something that amazed me. He pushed himself up on the bed with his elbows. His tired eyes fixed upon the president’s men, and he gave Card and Gonzales a rapid-fire blast. He had been misled about the scope of the surveillance program, he said. He vented that he had long been denied the legal support he needed by their narrow “read-in” requirements. Then he said he had serious concerns about the legal basis for parts of the program now that he understood it. Spent, he fell back on his pillow, his breathing labored. “But that doesn’t matter now,” he said, “because I’m not the attorney general.” With a finger extended from his shaking left hand, he pointed at me. “There is the attorney general.

In any case, these changes in body fat are too small to have any significant effect on thermal balance and there is no evidence that populations living in cold environments are fatter than those in tropical ones.

We’ve brought you a present, dear.’ ‘Really?’ ‘It’s just for you.’ It’s a hardcover of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility and on the inside front page there’s this little oval black and white picture of her with a baby’s bonnet on her head and a kind of ironic smile like She Knows. Jane knows what stupid insensitive people there are in the world and that’s what is behind every word she writes. Look at her portrait, She Knows. I think Dear Jane had a bit of the Impossible Standard herself although maybe it wasn’t even that impossible, maybe it was just some kind of decency and awareness she was expecting. ‘It’s Jane Austen, dear,’ Aunt P says. ‘What?’ Nan asks from the fire. ‘JANE AUSTEN,’ Aunt roars. ‘EXHAUSTING?’ Nan bellows back. ‘YES,’ and starts the Aged P nod. Neither of my aunts, I am convinced, ever drank tea from a mug. The china cups are out for them. They are a pair in the world, the two of them, and trade in exchange one to the other an entire currency of startled, dismayed and disapproving looks. The world fails the Impossible Standard constantly. Sometimes I imagine a whole gallery of their failed suitors, scrubbed jowly farmers of Meath, tweeded-up and cow-licked down, sent up to evenings in Ashcroft. The Meath men have surnames like Castlebridge, Farns, Ainsley. The sisters kill them off afterwards with cutting remarks. One sentence will do for each one.

How the hell zombies manage to get about, when they have the whole rigor mortis thing going on, I have no idea.

I intend the term “hybrid English” here to mean an English that has roots in both worlds—the former colonies as well as the former colonial centre in the case of postcolonial writing, the country of origin as well as the destination country in the case of migrant writing and the target audience’s culture as well as the travel destination in the case of travel writing. In the context of postcolonial writing, Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin (2002:8) set up the useful distinction between “english” and “English” (also “metropolitan English”), where the former refers to the several varieties of English (“englishes”) that have developed in the former British colonies—including fictional varieties only to be found in postcolonial literature—and the latter to those varieties of English indigenous to the erstwhile colonial centre itself. In the context of postcolonial writing, my term “hybrid English” is therefore synonymous with Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin’s coinage “english”. Of

Sir, do you know the history of the Ashcroft

Now, in January, Bush was about to be inaugurated. For attorney general, he had chosen John Ashcroft, the conservative former Republican senator from Missouri, who had been defeated for reelection. Ashcroft’s appointment to the cabinet was highly controversial, and was strongly opposed by a wide variety of liberal and minority groups because of his strong religious convictions, his opposition to abortion, and his views on race. Just before inauguration, Hanssen exchanged his last e-mails with his friend and former FBI colleague Jim Ohlson; the subject was John Ashcroft.

They say American beer is like making love in a canoe,” Teddy said. I had no idea what that meant. “Fucking close to water,

Sir John is probably touched with some sort of genius, but genius does not normally stimulate me to speculation, since it cannot be held in the hand any more than quicksilver. More important than Gielgud's genius are the years of work and thought which drape about his shoulders almost visibly. He is a lifetime of experience and of practice. On the quieter, less electric days, he sits behind a rehearsal table and interrupts the staging of of a scene with a murmured apology. He then removes his spectacles and rubs his reddened eyes. Perhaps he thinks for a moment. The silence is taut. Rarely does anyone move or speak. He then delivers himself of no more than a sentence or two, but these brief remarks are cornucopias filled with forty years of reading, studying, considering and analysing Shakespearean verse. The words are tightly packed, but Gielgud knows more than what can be gleaned from even the most serious reading, playgoing, and analysis. He remembers, bone-wisely, all the forty-plus years of playing Shakespearean roles; of directing his fellow actors in those; of observing Ralph Richardson rehearsing and playing this part, Laurence Olivier that one; of guiding or acting with... Peggy Ashcroft... Sybil Thorndike... Alec Guinness... Paul Scofield... Richard Burton... on through every degree of accomplishment and competence. At the centre of him there sits a firmness, a certainty. Indeed he is so fundamentally assured that he can admit the most serious doubts and confusions. At times, after delivering himself of what would seem a total idea, he will smile his Gioconda smile and say, 'Of course, you yourself may find a better way.' One might reasonably suspect the words to be disingenuous, but it is an attitude which can work psychic wonders on an actor - most especially a cagey one. Gielgud disarms the actor of his self-protective weapons. He does it by not pushing to hard. He combines an unspoiled intuition with a lifetime of learning. The feel of his rehearsal is most ingratiating... and persuasive.

With every passing hour, Kezia Ashcroft moved further away from home and closer towards the city where she would most likely die

Most people curse because their vocabulary lacks the firepower to give voice to strong feelings and emotions, or else they do it to fit in with their peers. But

Darren Ashcroft’s career spans from law enforcement to real estate. After 27 years at Watertown Correctional, he retired to become a real estate broker and house flipper. Managing a team of 11 in residential and light commercial construction, he also enjoys four-wheeling, snowmobiling, fishing, and beach days with his grandchildren.

anybody who decided to come after the random girl out by herself late at night would find themselves at the rough end of a very enthusiastic Drool Attack, courtesy of my gorgeous black Lab and his ridiculously huge tongue.

I’m sorry again about the bed. I really thought there’d be a couch or something in the room,

from her hut and she was anxious to get home before

Doufám, že nejen moji čtenáři ocení drobný bonus. Čerstvá kapitola, která krásně zapadá do Plukovníka a rebelovy dcery, je zdarma ke stažení. Snad se bude líbit. Doporučil bych číst po knize, ale obsahuje jen mizivé množství spoilerů a měla by snad dávat jistý smysl i samostatně, takže kdo chce ochutnávku z mého dílka, nic mu nebrání. Záhada v Ashcroft Manor je zdarma ke stažení na Kosmasu.

right.

shoulder kindly and then hopped a couple of times onto his right foot. Callum tried to do the same and screwed up his face when he almost tripped. ‘I feel entirely out of my depth,’ he admitted, linking arms with Evie and spinning her around so quickly she almost fell into someone. ‘We weren’t exactly a dancing family and I never got the hang of it. Especially given my height. Give me a fire to fight, a cat to rescue or a cliff to abseil off, and I’m in my element – dancing’s definitely not my thing.’ ‘Give it time,’ Evie advised, taking his hand and leading him across the dance floor as the participants all linked arms and followed each other, skipping slowly in a large circle. ‘You need to get a feel for the people around you, try to predict what they’ll do next.’ She was enjoying him though, enjoying his imperfections. It helped to take her mind off the kiss they’d shared. ‘I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to predict that,’ Callum said, gazing at her intently, making butterflies swirl around her stomach. She shook her head and looked away. At the far end of the room, Evie saw Nana Agnes leave Fergus to greet some of her friends, and noticed his eyes follow. He drank a full glass of whisky, tapping his foot on the floor as Agnes hugged and kissed them and began to chat. Then the music stopped as the dance ended, and everyone cheered and clapped. Evie turned to Callum and bowed as he looked at her with an expression of bemusement. ‘Is that it?’ He sounded relieved and followed Evie as she led him off the dance floor towards where Meg was waiting. She glanced at Jason who was still talking to the woman in the green dress. He’d picked up one of the candles from the table and was pointing at it. The last meal they’d shared, he’d talked about physics for the whole evening. The library had taken delivery of a new tome on the subject and Jason had read the whole thing in one night. The woman didn’t look bored though: she looked enchanted. Evie studied her carefully – she wore dark red lipstick the colour of plums and her mouth curved as she listened. Was Jason cheating on her? A feeling of relief spread through Evie before she dismissed it, annoyed with herself. ‘You were brilliant!’ Meg greeted them with a beaming smile and smoothed a hand over her blonde hair. ‘At least, you will be,’ she added, patting Callum gently on the arm. ‘You just need a little more practice. I’m sure Evie could give you some private lessons in the yurt before you head home.’ Callum’s eyes crinkled in the corners, making Evie’s heart thump. ‘Depends on whether she values her feet or not,’ he said with good humour, giving her an out.

turned

I don't write fiction. I write Creative Perception. The difference? Fiction entertains. Creative Perception illuminates. UNRESTRAINED GREED: What happens when a secret organization understands global systems better than governments do? They attack the financial system, deploy invisible technology, offer services millions depend on—then demand immunity. Background: Financial research. Systems analysis. Obsessive investigation into power structures that operate in shadows. For readers who want Tom Clancy's precision and Michael Crichton's research, but pushed further into uncomfortable truths about modern power. Creative Perception. Read it before reality catches up.

To the altars of the Great Mother, and later still to that of the Horned God, came those women who wanted children. In the Delta of the Nile in the small city of Mendes they worshipped a God with a goat's head. In the earliest times the Goat of Mendes was a simple fertility God, the animal's horned head and shaggy nether limbs representing the sexual energy of the most prolific animal the Egyptians knew. Its curving horns emulated the erect male penis and so it became a symbol of the seed-bearer. The God Pan served a similar purpose in ancient Greece. The early [Christian] Church labelled this simple but incredibly ancient God form 'the Devil', horned and hooved, and consigned it to oblivion except in the remnants of the Old Religion which remembered it only in a debased form. Now it is a symbol so defiled and linked to Satanism that it is impossible to use it even if one wished to do so. Please understand this fully: this particular symbol cannot be used, and those who have the knowledge and the understanding will leave it well alone. I repeat, this symbol cannot be used with safety.

If you can’t get up to mischief with a chum from time to time, life’s not going to be much fun.