Asp Quotes

My dear Kepler, what would you say of the learned here, who, replete with the pertinacity of the asp, have steadfastly refused to cast a glance through the telescope? What shall we make of this? Shall we laugh, or shall we cry?

Give me the honest asp, who strikes me if I trouble him and not before.

Because you pretend to be irreverent and lazy, but deep down, you don’t give up. Because you know that if you do, then they win. All the asp-holes, as you called them, win. So living, and living well—it’s the greatest fuck you that you can ever give them.

From p. 40 of Signet Edition of Thomas Wolfe's _You Can't Go Home Again_ (1940): Some things will never change. Some things will always be the same. Lean down your ear upon the earth and listen. The voice of forest water in the night, a woman's laughter in the dark, the clean, hard rattle of raked gravel, the cricketing stitch of midday in hot meadows, the delicate web of children's voices in bright air--these things will never change. The glitter of sunlight on roughened water, the glory of the stars, the innocence of morning, the smell of the sea in harbors, the feathery blur and smoky buddings of young boughs, and something there that comes and goes and never can be captured, the thorn of spring, the sharp and tongueless cry--these things will always be the same. All things belonging to the earth will never change--the leaf, the blade, the flower, the wind that cries and sleeps and wakes again, the trees whose stiff arms clash and tremble in the dark, and the dust of lovers long since buried in the earth--all things proceeding from the earth to seasons, all things that lapse and change and come again upon the earth--these things will always be the same, for they come up from the earth that never changes, they go back into the earth that lasts forever. Only the earth endures, but it endures forever. The tarantula, the adder, and the asp will also never change. Pain and death will always be the same. But under the pavements trembling like a pulse, under the buildings trembling like a cry, under the waste of time, under the hoof of the beast above the broken bones of cities, there will be something growing like a flower, something bursting from the earth again, forever deathless, faithful, coming into life again like April.

The tapping grows insistent, and I turn, intending to tell off the Cadet. Instead, I'm faced with a slave-girl looking up at me through impossibly long eyelashes. A heated, visceral shock flares through me at the clarity of her dark gold eyes. For a second, I forget my name. I've never seen her before, because if I had, I'd remember. Despite the heavy silver cuffs and high, painful-looking bun that mark all of Blackcliff's drudges, nothing about her says slave. Her black dress fits her like a glove, sliding over every curve in a way that makes more than one head turn. Her full lips and fine, straight nose would be the envy of most girls, Scholar or not. I stare at her, realize I'm staring, tell myself to stop staring, and then keep staring. My breath falters, and my body, traitor that is, tugs me forward until there are only inches between us. “Asp-aspirant Veturius.” It's the way she says my name—like it's something to fear—that brings me back to myself. Pull it together, Veturius. I step away, appalled at myself when I see the terror in her eyes. “What is it?” I ask calmly.

They take their punishment so well, so cheerfully: I go out with an adder in my heart, and an asp in my tongue, and every night I sow thorns in the garden of my soul.

Are we always to be wanting what isn't: the greenest grass accord and principle motherhood and career? Yet our age lies to us like an asp, whispering. "Both.

Fruit fly scientists, God bless ‘em, are the big exceptions. Morgan’s team always picked sensibly descriptive names for mutant genes, like ‘speck,’ ‘beaded,’ ‘rudimentary,’ ‘white,’ and ‘abnormal.’ And this tradition continues today, as the names of most fruit fly genes eschew jargon and even shade whimsical… The ‘turnip’ gene makes flies stupid. ‘Tudor’ leaves males (as with Henry VIII) childless. ‘Cleopatra’ can kill flies when it interacts with another gene, ‘asp.’ ‘Cheap date’ leaves flies exceptionally tipsy after a sip of alcohol… And thankfully, this whimsy with names has inspired the occasional zinger in other areas of genetics… The backronym for the “POK erythroid myeloid ontogenic” gene in mice—‘pokemon’—nearly provoked a lawsuit, since the ‘pokemon’ gene (now known, sigh, as ‘zbtb7’) contributes to the spread of cancer, and the lawyers for the Pokemon media empire didn’t want their cute little pocket monsters confused with tumors.

My dear Kepler, I wish that we might laugh at the stupidity of the human herd. What do you have to say about the principal philosophers of this academy who are filled with the stubbornness of an asp and do not want to look at either the planets, the moon or the telescope, even though I have freely and deliberately offered them the opportunity a thousand times? Truly, just as the asp stops its ears, so do these philosophers shut their eyes to the light of truth.

There was a small woven basket waiting on his desk the next day, still smelling like warmed-from-the-oven sin. A note was attached written with the words “Have a good day!” A drawing of a tiny dog chasing a butterfly completed the absurdity. He stood in front of his desk, just staring at it and the basket for a full minute. Asps didn’t smell like baked items, but the latter were no less dangerous. He tented the edge of the cloth cover with his smallest finger. Three fruit tarts lay inside. Poisoned most likely.

I rested my temples on the breast of temptation, and put my neck voluntarily under her yoke of flowers; I tasted her cup. The pillow was burning: there is an asp in the garland: the wine has a bitter taste: her promises are hollow- her offers false. I see and know all this.

CLEOPATRA TO THE ASP The bright mirror I braved: the devil in it Loved me like my soul, my soul: Now that I seek myself in a serpent My smile is fatal. Nile moves in me; my thighs splay Into the squalled Mediterranean; My brain hides in that Abyssinia Lost armies foundered towards. Desert and river unwrinkle again. Seeming to bring them the waters that make drunk Caesar, Pompey, Antony I drank. Now let the snake reign. A half-deity out of Capricorn, This rigid Augustus mounts With his sword virginal indeed; and has shorn Summarily the moon-horned river From my bed. May the moon Ruin him with virginity! Drink me, now, whole With coiled Egypt's past; then from my delta Swim like a fish toward Rome.

She tipped back her head to hold his stare. "Because you pretend to be irreverent and lazy, but deep down, you don't give up. Because you know that if you do, then they win. All the asp-holes, as you called them, win. So living, and living well— it's the greatest fuck you that you can ever give them.

She spent every night that week on the roof with the asp, watching it, copying its movements, internalizing its rhythm and sounds until she could move like it moved, until they could face each other and she could anticipate how it would lunge; until she could strike like the asp, swift and unflinching.

I had to feel sorry for Bubba's wife. In AA we called it denial. We take the asp to our breast and smile at the alarm we see in the eyes of others.

She did not approach Caesar wrapped in a carpet, she was not a seductress, she did not use her charm to persuade the men in her life to lose their judgement, and she did not die by the bite of an asp…Yet other important elements of her career have been bypassed in the post-antique recension: she was a Skilled naval commander, a published medical authority, and an expert royal administrator who was met with adulation throughout the eastern Mediterranean, perhaps seen by some as a messianic figure, the hope for a future Eastern Mediterranean free of Roman domination.

Him Aaron looked for, for he saw that if his rod ate serpents up, [367] His cross would eat the Serpent up that had eaten Adam and Eve.  Moses saw the uplifted serpent that had cured the bites of asps, and he looked to see Him who would heal the ancient Serpent's wound.

Elizabeth studied the drawing again. She'd been reading Madeline a book about how the Egyptians used the surfaces of sarcophagi to tell the tale of a life lived -its ups, its downs, its ins, its outs-all of it laid out in precise symbology. But as she read, she'd found herself wondering- did the artist ever get distracted? Ink an asp instead of a goat? And if so, did he have to let it stand? Probably. On the other hand, wasn't that the very definition of life? Constant adaptations brought about by a series of never-ending mistakes? Yes, and she should know.

We can not blame Shakespeare for making use of cutthroats and villains in developing his plots, but we might have been spared the jokes which the jailors of Posthumus perpetrate when they come to lead him to the scaffold, and the ludicrous English of the clown who supplies Cleopatra with an asp.

There was always a leader. He was not the largest, and he need not be the captain, but he was the one they looked to for instruction in their cruelty. He had a cold eye and a coiling tension. Like a snake, the poets might say, but I knew snakes better by then. Give me the honest asp, who strikes me if I trouble him and not before.

Actual class struggles apart, one of the aesthetic ways you could prove that there was a class system in America was by cogitating on the word, or acronym, 'WASP.' First minted by E. Digby Baltzell in his book The Protestant Establishment , the term stood for 'White Anglo-Saxon Protestant.' Except that, as I never grew tired of pointing out, the 'W' was something of a redundancy (there being by definition no BASPs or JASPs for anyone to be confused with, or confused about). 'ASP,' on the other hand, lacked some of the all-important tone. There being so relatively few Anglo-Saxon Catholics in the United States, the 'S' [sic] was arguably surplus to requirements as well. But then the acronym AS would scarcely do, either. And it would raise an additional difficulty. If 'Anglo-Saxon' descent was the qualifying thing, which surely it was, then why were George Wallace and Jerry Falwell not WASPs? After all, they were not merely white and Anglo-Saxon and Protestant, but very emphatic about all three things. Whereas a man like William F. Buckley, say, despite being a white Irish Catholic, radiated the very sort of demeanor for which the word WASP had been coined to begin with. So, for the matter of that, did the dapper gentleman from Richmond, Virginia, Tom Wolfe. Could it be, then, that WASP was really a term of class rather than ethnicity? Q.E.D.

She stepped aside, dodging him with maddening ease. Grave lunged again. But faster than he could follow she ducked and slashed her sword across his shins. He hit the wet ground before he felt the pain. The world flashed black and gray and red, and agony tore at him. A dagger still left in his hand, he scuttled backward toward the wall. But his legs wouldn’t respond, and his arms strained to pull him through the damp filth. “Bitch,” he hissed. “Bitch.” He hit the wall, blood pouring from his legs. Bone had been sliced. He would not be able to walk. He could still find a way to make her pay, though. She stopped a few feet away and sheathed her sword. She drew a long, jeweled dagger. He swore at her, the filthiest word he could think of. She chuckled, and faster than a striking asp, she had one of his arms against the wall, the dagger glinting. Pain ripped through his right wrist, then his left as it, too, was slammed into the stone. Grave screamed—truly screamed—as he found his arms pinned to the wall by two daggers. His blood was nearly black in the moonlight. He thrashed, cursing her again and again. He would bleed to death unless he pulled his arms from the wall. With otherworldly silence, she crouched before him and lifted his chin with another dagger. Grave panted as she brought her face close to his. There was nothing beneath the cowl—nothing of this world. She had no face. “Who hired you?” she asked, her voice like gravel. “To do what?” he asked, almost sobbing. Maybe he could feign innocence. He could talk his way out, convince this arrogant whore he had nothing to do with it … She turned the dagger, pressing it into his neck. “To kill Princess Nehemia.” “N-n-no one. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And then, without even an intake of breath, she buried another dagger he hadn’t realized she’d been holding into his thigh. So deep he felt the reverberation as it hit the cobblestones beneath. His scream shattered out of him, and Grave writhed, his wrists rising farther on the blades. “Who hired you?” she asked again. Calm, so calm. “Gold,” Grave moaned. “I have gold.” She drew yet another dagger and shoved it into his other thigh, piercing again to the stone. Grave shrieked—shrieked to gods who did not save him. “Who hired you?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” After a heartbeat, she withdrew the daggers from his thighs. He almost soiled himself at the pain, at the relief. “Thank you.” He wept, even as he thought of how he would punish her. She sat back on her heels and stared at him. “Thank you.” But then she brought up another dagger, its edge serrated and glinting, and hovered it close to his hand. “Pick a finger,” she said. He trembled and shook his head. “Pick a finger.” “P-please.” A wet warmth filled the seat of his pants. “Thumb it is.” “N-no. I … I’ll tell you everything!” Still, she brought the blade closer, until it rested against the base of his thumb. “Don’t! I’ll tell you everything!

Love at that age was a fire that sparked quickly, so it shouldn’t have surprised him when she spoke earnestly, but it still stung to hear her voice her affection with such ease. She’d known the boy for a second and a half, and already her lips curled with honeyed sweetness when she spoke his name. Give her a month and she’d be ready to press an asp to her breast if the spoiled brat ever left her.

Sicché andò a finire che feci il tema sul guantone da baseball di mio fratello Allie. […] Mio fratello Allie, dunque aveva quel guantone da prenditore, il sinistro. Lui era mancino. La cosa descrittiva di quel guanto, però, era che c’erano scritte delle poesie su tutte le dita e il palmo e dappertutto. In inchiostro verde. Ce le aveva scritte lui, così aveva qualcosa da leggere quando stava ad asp...ettare e nessuno batteva. Ora è morto. Gli è venuta la leucemia ed è morto quando stavamo nel Maine, il 18 luglio del 1946. Vi sarebbe piaciuto. Aveva due anni meno di me, ma era cinquanta volte più intelligente di me. Era di un’intelligenza fantastica. […] Aveva solo tredici anni e loro volevano farmi psicanalizzare e compagnia bella perché avevo spaccato tutte le finestre del garage. Non posso biasimarli. Ho dormito nel garage la notte che lui è morto, e ho spaccato col pugno tutte quelle dannate finestre, così, tanto per farlo. Ho tentato anche di spaccare tutti i finestrini della giardinetta che avevamo quell’estate, ma a quel punto mi ero già rotto la mano eccetera eccetera, e non ho potuto. È stata una cosa proprio stupida, chi lo nega, ma io quasi non sapevo nemmeno quello che stavo facendo, e poi voi non conoscevate Allie.

As Galileo said in a letter to the German mathematician Johannes Kepler:   My dear Kepler, I wish that we might laugh at the remarkable stupidity of the common herd. What do you have to say about the principal philosophers of this academy who are filled with the stubbornness of an asp and do not want to look at either the planets, the moon or the telescope, even though I have freely and deliberately offered them the opportunity a thousand times? Truly, just as the asp stops its ears, so do these philosophers shut their eyes to the light of truth.

The Book Lover:- See how I have come up in the World, because of my books. I pull the covers agape, pages release their cargo and words fly like birds each with its own song. Listen, and vowels will breathe like flutes in your head, Consonants tick-tack like woodpeckers, and sibilants, sly as asps, bite the plosives that pop from our pressed lips. A picture worth a thousand words? You paint a score of trees, dark needled, stippled and stroked across your canvas: My book say ‘’forrest’’ (Feel that Pine green touch) You wash your paper with azures and turquoise, set ship after ship, sails wind-pregnant, As far as the daubed horizon: my books say ‘’armada’’. (Smell that sea-green scent) Art’s shape is their noun, its colour their objective, Its tone their adverb; my books match the grammar of landscapes. This book may say ‘Socrates’ secrets, Freud’s autopsy of actions or Heaney’s verses; Every idea dreamed by man caught, black stamped for all time, within its cardboard confines. Here the past speaks to us, as the future will, in the language of our senses. Step up book by book- In time, you will reach the stars.

And then she would discuss very different people whom she had been led to believe existed; hard-working, honourable men and women, but a few of them possessed of fine brains, yet lacking the courage to admit their inversion. Honourable, it seemed, in all things save this that the world had forced on them—this dishonourable lie whereby alone they could hope to find peace, could hope to stake out a claim on existence. And always these people must carry that lie like a poisonous asp pressed against their bosoms; must unworthily hide and deny their love, which might well be the finest thing about them.

Det ligger en skog mellom sjøen og Benonis hus. Den er ikke Benonis skog, men en almenning, en stor blandingsskog av bartrær, bjørk og asp. På en bestemt tid om sommeren kommer folk fra to sogn sammen her og herjer og hugger av hjertens lyst; når de er ferdige og de har ført veden hjem ligger skogen stille igjen det hele år og dyr og fugler har atter idel fred. Nu og da kommer en lapp fra et sogn til et annet og går gjennom skogen; foruten dette er det bare Benoni som har sin gang her sommer og vinter. Og Benoni går i tørt vær og vått vær som det faller seg, han er en sterk og fast kar som ikke reddes for hindringer.

We should check the— What, damn it?” The tapping grows insistent, and I turn, intending to tell off the Cadet. Instead, I’m faced with a slave-girl looking up at me through impossibly long eyelashes. A heated, visceral shock flares through me at the clarity of her dark gold eyes. For a second, I forget my name. I’ve never seen her before, because if I had, I’d remember. Despite the heavy silver cuffs and high, painful-looking bun that mark all of Blackcliff’s drudges, nothing about her says slave. Her black dress fits her like a glove, sliding over every curve in a way that makes more than one head turn. Her full lips and fine, straight nose would be the envy of most girls, Scholar or not. I stare at her, realize I’m staring, tell myself to stop staring, and then keep staring. My breath falters, and my body, traitor that it is, tugs me forward until there are only inches between us. “Asp-aspirant

Let’s consider another similar story — the dating website Plenty of Fish. German programmer Markus Frind started the company in 2003 as a programming exercise. He had been wanting to learn a new coding language called ASP.NET, so he built the site in two weeks — and to his surprise, it took off. Frind never raised a dime of outside money, because the venture was profitable from the beginning. “I didn’t see the need to raise money because I wouldn’t know what to do with it,” he said in a 2015 interview with Business Insider. “It was a profitable company, and there was no need to raise money.”3 Plenty of Fish grew slowly and organically for more than 10 years, eventually growing to about 75 employees and 90 million registered users. In 2015, Match Group (which also owns dating sites Match.com and OKCupid) bought Plenty of Fish for $575 million. “It wasn’t like I had a plan to create a dating site,” Frind said. “It was just a side project I created that got really big.” Not bad for what started as a hobby.

Old!" she said to herself. "I am not old! I have lived many years, that is all. But I am as timeless as an hour-glass that turns morning and night, and spills the hours of sleep one way, the hours of consciousness the other way, without itself being affected. Nothing in all my life has ever truly affected me.--I believe Cleopatra only tried the asp, as she tried her pearls in wine, to see if it would really, really have any effect on her. Nothing had ever really had any effect on her, neither Caesar nor Antony nor any of them. Never once had she really been lost, lost to herself. Then try death, see if that trick would work. If she would lose herself to herself that way.--Ah, death--!" But Mrs. Witt mistrusted death too. She felt she might pass out as a bed of asters passes out in autumn, to mere nothingness.--And something in her longed to die, at least, positively: to be folded then at last into throbbing wings of mystery, like, a hawk that goes to sleep. Not like a thing made into a parcel and put into the last rubbish-heap.

My picture,” she said, placing it on the table in front of her mother as she leaned up against her. It was another chalk drawing—Madeline preferred chalk over crayons—but because chalk smudged so easily, her drawings often looked blurry, as if her subjects were trying to get off the page. Elizabeth looked down to see a few stick figures, a dog, a lawn mower, a sun, a moon, possibly a car, flowers, a long box. Fire appeared to be destroying the south; rain dominated the north. And there was one other thing: a big swirly white mass right in the middle. “Well,” Elizabeth said, “this is really something. I can tell you’ve put a lot of work into this.” Mad puffed her cheeks as if her mother didn’t know the half of it. Elizabeth studied the drawing again. She’d been reading Madeline a book about how the Egyptians used the surfaces of sarcophagi to tell the tale of a life lived—its ups, its downs, its ins, its outs—all of it laid out in precise symbology. But as she read, she’d found herself wondering—did the artist ever get distracted? Ink an asp instead of a goat? And if so, did he have to let it stand? Probably. On the other hand, wasn’t that the very definition of life? Constant adaptations brought about by a series of never-ending mistakes? Yes,

عام فى ميدان الثورة" كتاب جديد لـ"محمود عبد الرحيم" الثلاثاء، 31 يناير 2012 - 10:52 غلاف الكتاب كتب وائل فتحى صدر للكاتب الصحفى محمود عبد الرحيم كتاب "عام فى ميدان الثورة.. وجوه وصراعات وأقنعة"، يشارك به حاليا فى معرض القاهرة الدولى للكتاب، إلى جانب كتابه "السينما العشق والتأويل" الصادر مؤخرا. والكتاب الصادر قبل أيام عن "مكتبة جزيرة الورد" يسجل شهادة الكاتب والناشط السياسى محمود عبد الرحيم على عام من الثورة من واقع تجربته الذاتية، علاوة على توثيق أدوار من شاركوا بفعالية فى الثورة من أناس بسطاء تم تهميشهم لصالح تسليط الأضواء على سماسرة الثورة والانتهازيين الذين سعى الكاتب لينزع عنهم أقنعة البطولة الزائفة، إلى جانب إظهار حقيقة دور المجلس العسكرى وجماعة الإخوان لاحتواء الثورة، وتحويلها لحركة إصلاحية محدودة الأثر والتأثير بدعم أمريكى، دون تغيير ميراث مبارك ولا بنية النظام القديم. وفى الكتاب أيضا توثيق لتجربة تأسيس عبد الرحيم للجنة الشعبية للدستور المصرى وميلاد "دستور الثورة" وما واكبه من صراعات وتحديات، بالإضافة إلى مقالاته التى ترصد وتحلل مجمل الأحداث التى مرت بالثورة خلال عام. وينقسم الكتاب الذى يقع فى 240 صفحة من القطع المتوسط إلى جزئين الأول بعنوان "مشاهد من ذاكرة ثورية"، والثانى بعنوان "مقالات بروح ثورية"، واستهله الكاتب بإهداء وجهه "إلى أرواح شهداء الثورة، ومصابيها، وكل من ساندها، ولم يكفر بها، واعتبر إكمال مسيرتها واجبا وطنيا وأخلاقيا، من أجل قيم الحرية والعدالة والكرامة الإنسانية، وبناء "مصر الجديدة" المنتمية للشعوب، لا للحكام". وقال عبد الرحيم فى مقدمة الكتاب: ميلاد هذا الكتاب بدأ خلال جمعة "استرداد الكرامة"، حيث كنا نقترب من نهاية العام الأول للثورة، ولم نلمس شيئا من أهدافها، وإنما عودة إلى آليات القمع وفرض الأمر الواقع السلطوى بالقوة، بالترافق مع بروز الانتهازية السياسية المدمرة لكل الطموحات الثورية، والتحالف الرباعى (العسكرى- الدينى- الأمريكى- السعودى). وخشيت أن نفقد مع الوقت حتى ذاكرة الثورة، وسط حالة التشويه الممنهج لها، المترافق مع إدعاءات للبعض تسير باتجاه ما أسميته بـ"تزييف استباقى لتاريخ الثورة"، باصطناع أدوار وبطولات لم يكن لها وجود على الأرض، أو محاولة نفى حقيقة "شعبية" الثورة وعفويتها، وأن ثمة غياب لقيادة أو تنظيم يقف وراءها فى أى من مراحلها، ما أنجحها فى البداية لصعوبة السيطرة والاحتواء للملايين الرافضة، وما أصابها، كذلك، بالارتباك والنكسات فيما بعد، لافتقاد قوى منظمة تستلم السلطة، وتفرض إرادتها الثورية، وتهدم بنية النظام الفاسد المستبد السابق الذى ثرنا عليه، بغية بناء نظام أفضل ينحى نحو الديمقراطية والعدالة والاستقلالية ودولة المواطنة والقانون. وأضاف "ومن ثم عمدت إلى دعوة من شاركوا بفعالية فى الثورة، خاصة من الكتاب إلى الإسراع بتدوين تجاربهم، وقمت أنا بدورى فى تسجيل تجربتى مع الثورة، والأحداث التى كنت شريكا فيها أو شاهدا عليها خلال مسيرة عام كامل، مع التركيز على البعد الإنسانى للتجربة التى يتماهى فيها الخاص بالعام، وذلك عبر مشاهد مكثفة لها دلالاتها المتعددة، التى تكشف، بدرجة ما، معالم المرحلة من المنظور الذاتى، وتُسقط الأقنعة عن وجوه عديدة، وصراعات بدأت، ولم تنته بعد وتلقى فى ذات الوقت، الضوء على حالة المد والجزر الثورية، وعلى أبناء الشعب المجهولين الذين شاركوا فى صنع الثورة، ولم يجدوا أحدا يذكرههم، ولو بشكل عابر، رغم أنهم رموز حقيقية للثورة، وليس هؤلاء المتاجرين بها. وحرصت أيضا، هنا على توثيق تجربة تأسيسى لـ"اللجنة الشعبية للدستور"، وما صادفها من عثرات وتحديات حتى خروج "دستور الثورة" للنور، وما تلاه من معارك حامية الوطيس. وتابع الكاتب الصحفى "لم يكن بد، فى هذا السياق، من جمع المقالات الصحفية التى اشتبكت خلالها مع تفاعلات الثورة منذ أيامها الأولى، والتى تسجل رؤيتى وتحليلى للأحداث فى مراحل تطورها المختلفة، كجزء لا يتجزأ من شهادتى على هذا العام المتخم بالحوادث والمواقف والصدمات." http://www3.youm7.com/News.asp?NewsID...

Dear Net-Mail User [ EweR-635-78-2267-3 aSp]: Your mailbox has just been rifled by EmilyPost, an autonomous courtesy-worm chain program released in October 2036 by an anonymous group of net subscribers in western Alaska. [ ref: sequestered confession 592864-2376298.98634, deposited with Bank Leumi 10/23/36:20:34:21. Expiration-disclosure 10 years.] Under the civil disobedience sections of the Charter of Rio, we accept in advance the fines and penalties that will come due when our confession is released in 2046. However we feel that’s a small price to pay for the message brought to you by EmilyPost. In brief, dear friend, you are not a very polite person. EmilyPost’s syntax analysis subroutines show that a very high fraction of your Net exchanges are heated, vituperative, even obscene. Of course you enjoy free speech. But EmilyPost has been designed by people who are concerned about the recent trend toward excessive nastiness in some parts of the Net. EmilyPost homes in on folks like you and begins by asking them to please consider the advantages of politeness. For one thing, your credibility ratings would rise. (EmilyPost has checked your favorite bulletin boards, and finds your ratings aren’t high at all. Nobody is listening to you, sir!) Moreover, consider that courtesy can foster calm reason, turning shrill antagonism into useful debate and even consensus. We suggest introducing an automatic delay to your mail system. Communications are so fast these days, people seldom stop and think. Some Net users act like mental patients who shout out anything that comes to mind, rather than as functioning citizens with the human gift of tact. If you wish, you may use one of the public-domain delay programs included in this version of EmilyPost, free of charge. Of course, should you insist on continuing as before, disseminating nastiness in all directions, we have equipped EmilyPost with other options you’ll soon find out about…

And then she would discuss very different people whom she had been led to believe existed; hard-working, honourable men and women, not a few of them possessed of fine brains, yet lacking the courage to admit their inversion. Honourable, it seemed, in all things save this that the world had forced on them - this dishonourable lie whereby alone they could hope to find peace, could hope to stake out a claim on existence. And always these people must carry that lie like a poisonous asp pressed against their bosoms; must unworthily hide and deny their love, which might well be the finest thing about them. And what of the women who had worked in the war - those quiet, gaunt women she had seen about London? England had called them and they had come; for once, unabashed, they had faced the daylight. And now because they were not prepared to slink back and hide in their holes and corners, the very public whom they had served was the first to turn round and spit upon them; to cry: 'Away with this canker in our midst, this nest of unrighteousness and corruption!' That was the gratitude they had received for the work they had done out of love for England! And what of that curious craving for religion which so often went hand in hand with inversion? Many such people were deeply religious, and this surely was one of their bitterest problems. They believed, and believing they craved a blessing on what to some of them seemed very sacred - a faithful and deeply devoted union. But the Church's blessing was not for them. Faithful they might be, leading orderly lives, harming no one, and yet the Church turned away; her blessings were strictly reserved for the normal. Then Stephen would come to the thing of all others that to her was the most agonising question. Youth, what of youth? Where could it turn for its natural and harmless recreations? There was Dickie West and many more like her, vigorous, courageous and kind-hearted youngsters; yet shut away from so many of the pleasures that belonged by right to every young creature - and more pitiful still was the lot of a girl who, herself being normal, gave her love to an invert. The young had a right to their innocent pleasures, a right to social companionship; had a right, indeed, to resent isolation. But here, as in all the great cities of the world, they were isolated until they went under; until, in their ignorance and resentment, they turned to the only communal life that a world bent upon their destruction had left them; turned to the worst elements of their kind, to those who haunted the bars of Paris. Their lovers were helpless, for what could they do? Empty-handed they were, having nothing to offer. And even the tolerant normal were helpless - those who went to Valérie's parties, for instance. If they had sons and daughters, they left them at home; and considering all things, who could blame them? While as for themselves, they were far too old - only tolerant, no doubt, because they were ageing. They could not provide the frivolities for which youth had a perfectly natural craving.

So what does the architecture of your application scream? When you look at the top-level directory structure, and the source files in the highest-level package, do they scream “Health Care System,” or “Accounting System,” or “Inventory Management System”? Or do they scream “Rails,” or “Spring/Hibernate,” or “ASP”?

He was short, like most dictators.

Companies rebrand so often because people who work in branding know, deep down, that they don’t have real jobs and the constant emphasis on logos and color schemes creates a frenzy of activity that distracts them from the creeping existential dread that haunts their every waking moment.

Hi Everyone, We have to start for you new APTRON branch at Delhi location. it is the sub branch of APTRONoida Training company . Now you want get the training according your desirable courses then that you can click here for the best-asp.net-training Course : - aptrondelhi@in

Advantages of the ASP I have already explained how the ASP is advantageous with regard to its compactness and ease of carry, but there are other advantages. Carrying an impact weapon gives you the ability to counter a threat with less than lethal force, which may save you a long stint in prison. The compact ASP has advantages over the 28-inch stick of the traditional Filipino martial arts. When you are chest-to-chest against an opponent, it's difficult to hit him decisively with a 26-28 inch long stick. Filipino martial artists practice raising the arm and twisting the wrist to snap the tip into an opponent's head, but these flicking strikes can't be counted on to drop an attacker. Also, because of the stick's light weight, space and distance are needed to wind up and generate power. At very close range the short, heavy stick –such as a blackjack, sap, or an 8-inch steel bar-- is a better weapon. The striking tip of the ASP is made of steel, and the middle section is high-grade aluminum. This solid construction means that the ASP hits hard. The unexpanded ASP can be used like a metal yawara (palm stick), which is devastating in close. The Knife The second weapon in Steel Baton EDC is a knife carried at the neck. The knife should be compact and relatively light so that it is comfortable enough for neck carry. Get a light beaded chain that will break away, so that you aren't strangled with your own neck lanyard. The knife should have a straight handle without loops or fingerholes, because you want to be able to access the knife with either hand in an instant, without having to thread your fingers into holes or work to secure a grip. Avoid folding knives. You want a knife that you can draw in an instant. No matter how much you practice drawing and opening your knife, or even if you get an automatic (switchblade) or assisted opener, you will always be slower getting the folding knife open and into action, particularly under stress. Keep in mind that “under stress” may mean somebody socking you in the face repeatedly. Once again, you want open carry. Open carry is almost always legal and is more easily accessible if you are under attack. You can get a neodymium magnet and put it in the gap between the seam of your shirt, in between the buttons. The magnet will attract the steel blade of your knife so that the knife will stay centered and not flop around if you're moving. My recommended knives for neck carry are the Cold Steel Super Edge and the Cold Steel Hide Out. The Super Edge is small, light, and inconspicuous. It also comes in useful as a day-to-day utility tool, opening packages, trimming threads, removing tags, and so on. Get the Rambo knife image out of your mind. You only need a small knife to deter an attacker, because nobody wants to get cut. And if your life is on the line, you can still do serious damage with a small blade.

It's also important for tech product managers to have a broad understanding of the types of analytics that are important to your product. Many have too narrow of a view. Here is the core set for most tech products: User behavior analytics (click paths, engagement) Business analytics (active users, conversion rate, lifetime value, retention) Financial analytics (ASP, billings, time to close) Performance (load time, uptime) Operational costs (storage, hosting) Go‐to‐market costs (acquisition costs, cost of sales, programs) Sentiment (NPS, customer satisfaction, surveys)

The perfect salesperson will naturally attract prospects, set a polished first impression, keep prospects engaged as well as educate them, follow up with them at just the right time and handle any objections with expert salesmanship, skillfully close the sale while simultaneously looking for upsell opportunities, and get referrals while retaining them as customers for life. Whether your top salesperson is you or someone on your team, that person will inevitably have a bad day, take vacations, and need benefits. The ASP™ takes the perfect version of your sales process and permanently stamps it into a technology system that works for you 24/7/365, never having a bad day, never needing a vacation, and never requiring benefits. The ASP™ is the growth-hacking framework we implement for our clients that range from traditional brick-and-mortar businesses to venture-backed technology start-ups. It’s a framework that can be applied to any type of business, and in the next several chapters, we’ll dive into ASP™ and its six individual components and show you how best to implement them for your business.

years old. Beyond skin health, exercise protects you from biological aging, as people who are the most active tend to have the longest telomeres. Telomeres are protective caps at the ends of your chromosomes that shorten as you age and contribute to the aging process. Studies have found that the most active adults are younger on a cellular level (as shown by measures like telomeres) by nine years compared to their sedentary peers.

The story of the asp is problematic, for an individual one is typically about eight feet long,

bite by an asp is not necessarily fatal, and even when it is, as much as two hours may pass before life is extinguished.

the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them. 7 And the cow and the bear shall feed; their young ones shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. 8 And the sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the adder’s den.

Beatrice Belladonna is the wise sister, quiet and clever as an owl in the rafters; she walks last into the tower. She never believed in crone-stories, even as a girl. She determined long ago that the Crone was an amalgamation of myths and fables, an expression of collective fear rather than an actual old woman. Old women are supposed to be doting and addled, absent-minded grandmothers who spoil their sons and keep soup bubbling on the stove-top, but the Crone is none of those things. She's the canny one, the knowing one, the too-wise witch who knows the words to every curse and the ingredients for every poison. She is Baba Yaga and Black Anna; she is the wicked fairy who hands out curses rather than christening-gifts. Bella knows her by her fingertips: ink-stained, tattooed with words in a dozen dead languages. A delicate asp coils around one wrist.

But Hunt just said, “I know you’ll keep going forward, Quinlan—even if it sucks.” “What makes you so sure of it?” His feet were silent as he crossed the kitchen. She tipped back her head to hold his stare. “Because you pretend to be irreverent and lazy, but deep down, you don’t give up. Because you know that if you do, then they win. All the asp-holes, as you called them, win. So living, and living well—it’s the greatest fuck you that you can ever give them.” “That’s why you’re still fighting.” He ran a hand over the tattoo on his brow. “Yes.” She let out a hmm, stirring the mixture in the pan again. “Well then, Athalar. I guess it’ll be you and me in the trenches for a while longer.” He smiled at her, more openly than he’d dared do with anyone in a long while. “You know,” he said, “I think I like the sound of that.

I know you'll keep going forward, Quinlan- even if it sucks.' 'What makes you so sure of it?' His feet were silent as he crossed the kitchen. She tipped back her head to hold his stare. 'Because you pretend to be irreverent and lazy, but deep down, you don't give up. Because you know that if you do, then they win. All the asp-holes, as you called them, win. So living, and living well- it's the greatest fuck you that you can ever give them.' 'That's why you're still fighting.' He ran a hand ver the tattoo on his brow. 'Yes.' She let out a hmm, stirring the mixture in the pain again. 'Well then, Athalar. I guess it'll be you and me in the trenches for a while longer.' He smiled at her, more openly than he'd dared do with anyone in a long while. 'You know,' he said, 'I think I like the sound of that.

But surely it is something to have been The best belovèd for a little while, To have walked hand in hand with Love, and seen His purple wings flit once across thy smile. Ay! though the gorgèd asp of passion feed On my boy's heart, yet have I burst the bars, Stood face to face with Beauty, known indeed The Love which moves the Sun and all the stars!

토토솔루션 선택에 있어서 가장 핵심은 제공해주는 업체가 가진 기술력과 토토 운영관리 특성상 24시간 유지보수 가능 여부입니다 시중에 돌고 있는 소스, 즉 ASP, PHP 로 만들어진 소스의 대다수는 토토 초창기 10여년전에 만들어진 구형 소스로써 공격하는 해커들도 똑같은 소스를 손쉽게 보유할수 있습니다 개발코드 구조를 알고 있는 이상 아무리 수정 보완을 한다더라도 보안에 취약할수 밖에 없는게 안타까운 현실이기도 합니다 저희 윈스솔루션은 이러한 문제점을 익히 알고 있어 독자적으로 JSP 언어를 채택 자체 개발 진행하였고 현재 본사 사장님들께 제공해드리고 있습니다 ASP , PHP : 코딩등 접근방식이 쉬워 오픈소스등으로 활용가능 (웹하드업체,개인쇼핑몰등에서 주로 사용) JSP : 리눅스, 유닉스등 OS 에 사용가능하며 자바 활용 용이, 보안이 우수 (관공서,은행,대기업에서 사용) 또한 갑작스런 돌발 상황에 대비 10명으로 구성된 24시간 전담 운영지원팀을 가동하고 있어 모든 업무는 새벽시간일지라도 1분이내 응대 가능합니다 서버문제나 소스문제등으로 인해 새벽에 연락이 안되고 애태우셨던 일들은 애초에 발생하지 않습니다 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ★ 특징 및 기능 ★ ※ 타 소스가 가진 기본 기능들은 모두 가동중이며 세팅이 되어있습니다 ○ 축배팅,조합배팅,보험배팅 적용유무 설정가능 ○ 마틴배팅 제한 및 마틴적용률 퍼센티지로 설정 가능 ○ JSP 기술로 자바 및 HTML5 & css3 최신 디자인페이지 적용가능 - 유저들에게 큰업체라는 인식을 가지게하려면 최근부터 향후 2016년이후로도 지속적 각광받는 "반응형웹디자인" 을 적용할수 있음 ○ 유저페이지 미니게임(사다리등) 자동 마틴배팅 시스템 구축가능 ○ 이벤트 - 그래픽디자인으로 이뤄진 룰렛 (타놀이터에 없는 기능으로 사이트에 대한 회원 신뢰도,충성도 상승) 다폴더,낙첨,아차 이벤트등을 활용, 룰렛코인을 본사 원하는 방식으로 지급 룰렛확률이나 당첨액은 본사 관리자에서 설정가능 - 보너스 배당 기존 경기리스트에 시간맞춰 등록되는 보너스배당 폴더가 아닌 상시 상단 보너스배당 설정가능 - 쿠폰시스템 직접 보너스 배당률을 설정하여 특정 유저에게 쿠폰으로 지급가능 (활용방안: 적중률 낮은 회원, 주요 고객회원, 이벤트추가등 여러방법으로 활용) ○ 배팅현황 실시간 배팅금에 따른 그래프로 구현 (예, 홈:60% 무:10% 패:30%) - 적은 자본금으로 운영시 사정에 따라 따라 보험이나 배팅중지등 파악에 용이 - 특정 주요 경기를 별도의 클릭 없이 실시간으로 모니터링 파악 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 분명, 소규모 자본으로 저렴한 가격에 구축가능할수도 있습니다 수익구조는 월관리비중에서 서버비를 따로 지급하고 남는게 전부인 솔루션업계 특성상 터무니없이 무조건인 저가는 의심해보시구 피해 보시는 일이 없어야 할것입니다 또한 관리업무 특성상에도 국내에서 운영중인 솔루션업체는 신변문제나 개인 사정상 언제 연락두절이 될지 모르니 선택시에 신중히 고르셔야합니다 본 윈스솔루션은 체계적인 준비과정을 거쳐 해외에서 정상운영중이며 3년여전부터 본사사장님들과 윈윈할수 있도록 상시 니즈나 피드백을 받아들여 지속적으로 기능들 추가등 항상 최선을 다하고 있습니다 다른 업무(릴,경마,보드게임류) 문의나 타업체의 찔러보기식 문의는 절대 사절합니다 스카이프 winssolu@hotmail.com 카톡 winsqq

She also had this friend named The Asp, who whenever she was really in a tight spot would just show up and cut everybody’s head off.

Expert Domain Hosting and Software in Bangladesh |Cheap VPS and Reseller Cheap and affordable web hosting, Website Design, Domain Registration, software solutions for your Company. Expert Soft IT best domain & web hosting company in Bangladesh. Linux, PHP & MySQL, ASP.NET & SQL Server Hosting at the lowest cost. Reseller hosting, VPS server in Bangladesh.

A stage marker is a useful feature that allows us to specify at what stage, an OWIN middleware must run in the IIS ASP.NET pipeline. 

It's not always so easy," she said softly. "Why not? It's a part of who you are, isn't it?" he asked with all the sympathy of an asp being prodded with a stick.

An IT College Graduate To advance the goals and objectives of the IT department by utilizing strong programming skills and to improve organizational efficiencies and productivity through the use of state-of-the-art technologies Perl, MySQL, Linux, Apache, Mason, XML, XSL, HTML, JavaScript, Java, MS C11, ASP, 8086 Assembly, Fortran, COBOL, network firewall and hack-proof server installation and configuration, and automatic mass Web site building Internet-based public relations for online applications Network administration Wireless applications Speech recognition Excellent customer service skills Complex, technical troubleshooting and problem solving abilities Projects on time and within budget

will see a warning from Visual Studio that the FormsAuthentication.Authenticate method has been deprecated. This is part of Microsoft’s ongoing efforts to rationalize user security, which is a thorny area for any web application framework. For this chapter, the deprecated method will suffice and allow me to perform authentication using the static details I added to the Web.config file.

La differenza tra un vero artista e un dilettante è che un artista dà forma a un’idea, mentre un dilettante trae ispirazione da una forma esistente.

In 20487 Developing Windows Azure And Web Services course , understudies will figure out how to outline and create administrations that entrance nearby and remote information from different information sources and how to create and send administrations to half and half conditions, including on-premises servers and Windows Azure. 1: Overview of administration and cloud advances 2: Querying and Manipulating Data Using Entity Framework 3: Creating and Consuming ASP.NET Web API Services 4: Extending and Securing ASP.NET Web API Services 5: Creating WCF Services 6: Hosting Services 7: Windows Azure Service Bus 8: Deploying Services 9: Windows Azure Storage 10: Monitoring and Diagnostics 11: Identity Management and Access Control 12: Scaling Services 13: Appendix A: Designing and Extending WCF Services 14: Appendix B: Implementing Security in WCF Services

He felt he was knowing less and less, and it was more and more beautiful to do so. Why had he been alarmed? He was sitting on a stool, and around him in the stall sat, almost preternaturally near, a man in a black masque, an Asp he hadn’t noticed before, the Tiger whose breath ran hot and meaty on his neck, a beautiful schoolgirl, or was that the bride on her honeymoon? Did the whole stall then tilt forward, like a gently swung bucket? Anyway, they leaned together toward the central dais, an altar of veils and sacrifices. Boq loosened his collar and then his belt, felt the gingery appetite between heart and stomach and the resulting stiffening apparatus below that. The music of pipes and whistles was slowing, or was it that as he watched and waited and breathed so, so slowly, that the secret area inside himself uncloaked itself, where nothing mattered?

love you, too,” I said. “I’ve fallen fucking hard for you, like face to the concrete hard.” His smile turned crooked. “That’s quite a visual, Asp, but I’ll take it.

In this garden full of asps, he was a pitcher plant, beckoning them to a tumble. Sometimes there was a part of him that wanted to scream: Look at me. See what I am. See what I've done.

Psalm 90 (91) 1 The praise of an ode by David. He who dwells in the help of the Most High Shall lodge in the shelter of the God of heaven. 2He shall say to the Lord, “You are my protector and my refuge, My God; I will hope in Him; 3For He shall free me from the snare of the hunters, And from every troubling word.” 4He shall overshadow you with His shoulders, And under His wings you shall hope; His truth shall encircle you with a shield. 5You shall not be frightened by fear at night, Nor from an arrow that flies by day, 6Nor by a thing moving in darkness, Nor by mishap and a demon of noonday. 7A thousand shall fall at your side And ten thousand at your right hand, Yet it shall not come near you; 8But you shall observe with your eyes, And you shall see the reward of sinners. 9For You, O Lord, are my hope; You made the Most High your refuge. 10Evils shall not come to you, And a scourge shall not draw near your dwelling; 11For He shall command His angels concerning you, To keep you in all your ways; 12In their hands they shall bear you up, Lest you strike your foot against a stone; 13You shall tread upon the asp and the basilisk, And you shall trample the lion and the dragon. 14“For he hoped in Me, and I will deliver him; I will shelter him, because he knew My name. 15He shall call upon Me, and I will hear him; I am with him in affliction, And I will deliver and glorify him. 16With length of days I will satisfy him, And show him My salvation.

She looked back at the basket in time to see the slender, black head of the asp slide over the rim, then down to the tiled roof. Her heart thundered in her chest. It was poisonous, wasn’t it? It had to be. It looked poisonous.

THAT GREEN-EYED BASTARD. I grinned despite myself and typed back: You cursed. Max replied in rapid-fire: Would you prefer “smirking, paternalistic ship-head who can shove his mother-faxing paternalism up his mother-faxing asp”?

(The academy had stopped using real swords a few years earlier, after a student had been literally disarmed in class.) I did my best to defend myself, but it was only twenty seconds before I was sprawled on the floor with Professor Simon standing over me, sword raised, ready to shish kabob my spleen. Which was all the more embarrassing, as it happened in front of the entire class. ASP took place in a large lecture hall. My fellow classmates were seated in tiers around me, watching me get my butt kicked by a woman four times my age.

Countering the Knife The knife attack is very serious, and easily fatal. Avoid a knife confrontation if at all possible. If you must confront the knife wielder, and are able to do so at a distance, draw both the ASP and the neck knife. You can start with Kick and Draw to get the expandable baton into play while keeping the opponent at bay with a low kick. Your basic strategy is to hit the opponent with the ASP from a distance. His kneecap is a good target, because it is hard to defend and if you damage his knee, it will become difficult for him to close in on you. The knife serves as a backup and a deterrent to keep him from rushing in on you, which is the obvious strategy against someone armed with a stick or baton. In close, you can execute Move 2, striking with the ASP at his forearm as you twist your torso. Hit with the empty hand or slash with the knife. The prison-style knife attack, wherein the attacker grabs and smothers with his lead free hand while repeatedly stabbing with the rear hand, is a simple yet deadly attack that is difficult to defend against. The most effective counter to the prison-style knife attack comes from Ray Floro. First of all, assume the existence of a knife. It is too easy to assume that you are in a fistfight and get surprised when you are stabbed. Many people who are cut or stabbed are unaware of the existence of a knife, and may perceive a thrust as a punch. So don't get surprised by a weapon in an opponent's hand –be looking for it. From the High Backhand Guard chop downward at the opponent's forearm, only add the live hand. Grasp the ASP with both hands in staff grip and repeatedly slam the attacker's forearm. The slams are parallel to the ground, forming a very powerful counter to the upward knife thrust. These multiple slams not only serve as a defense, but as an offense, damaging the opponent's weapon arm. The Vertical Strike From the High Backhand Guard, strike vertically, chopping straight down with the ASP. Like the horizontal chop, the left/live hand follows just behind the ASP as you strike, and retreats with it as you quickly retract it back your original start position in the high backhand guard. The vertical strike can be used to hit targets of opportunity, such as a hand or elbow, but it can also be used to defend against a horizontal attack, such as a swing with a bottle, a slash with a knife, or a kick. Don't think of the strike as a block, but as attacking the opponent's striking arm or leg.

What does spicy food have to do with living longer? Research shows that people who eat spicy food regularly—mainly from fresh and dried chili peppers, which contain a health-promoting ingredient called capsaicin—are also less likely to die from heart and respiratory diseases, even cancer, than people who eat spicy foods only every now and then. If you can tolerate spicy foods and don’t have digestive issues that would be

can also help de-puff your eyes. Just soak two cotton balls with soy milk and, while lying down, place them over your eyes for roughly five minutes.

Because touch may be the first of our five senses to develop, it makes sense that touch plays such an integral role in health. How many hugs should you get a day? Take this advice from American psychologist and family therapist, Virginia Satir, to heart: “We need four hugs a day for survival. We need eight hugs a day for maintenance. We need twelve hugs a day for growth.” Just make sure those hugs are firm or else that oxytocin may not be released.

home to reduce age spots. Combine 1 teaspoon powdered turmeric with 2 tablespoons organic coconut oil and apply to your age spots several times a day until you get the results you want. Store the mixture in a sealed container for three to four days.

piece of cellophane tape. Put that tape on your forehead when you’re at home to remind you not to furrow your brow or squint. Repeated use of this simple trick will help you break the habit or, at the very least, make you more conscious about doing

Ditching straws has recently become an environmental cause—but did you know that sucking on straws causes wrinkles? The movement your mouth makes when it grasps the straw encourages the breakdown of collagen and elasticity more quickly, both of which your skin requires for support. As a result, you get unnecessary wrinkles and lines that make you look like you’ve been smoking, even if you haven’t! If you only use a straw once in a while, it’s no big deal. But if you’re sucking your cold brew coffee or

Research shows that volunteering makes people not only happier but healthier. A European study found that volunteers are as healthy as non-volunteers five years younger. Talk about a positive way to turn back the clock! And indeed, studies have also found that people who volunteer may live longer than their non-volunteering counterparts with one caveat: your reason for volunteering should be about helping others instead of helping yourself. You

you can do anywhere, even while you’re brushing your teeth or standing in line at the grocery store: stand on one leg for thirty seconds; then switch sides. To make this more challenging, do it with your eyes closed and/or move to a slightly unstable surface like a pillow or cushion.

Their throat is an open sepulchre; with their tongues they have used deceit; the poison of asps is under their lips: whose mouth is full of cursing and bitterness: their feet are swift to shed blood: destruction and misery are in their ways: and the way of peace have they not known: there is no fear of God before their eyes. Romans 3:13-18

Joe and I drove

Get drunk all the time. Go someplace and score. Walk in and walk out of the Asp Hike up Tam Keep quitting and starting at Berkeley Watch the pike in the Steinhart Aquarium: he doesn't move. Sleeping with stangers Keeping up on the news Chanting sutras after sitting Practicing yr frailing on guitar Get dropped off in the fog in the night Fall in love twenty times Get divorced Keep moving — move out to the Sunset Get lost — or Get found

When you look at the top-level directory structure, and the source files in the highest-level package, do they scream “Health Care System,” or “Accounting System,” or “Inventory Management System”? Or do they scream “Rails,” or “Spring/Hibernate,” or “ASP”?

Here’s one you can do anywhere to lift your cheeks: start by smiling. Now make an “O” with your mouth, folding your upper lip over front teeth. Smile again and place your index fingers lightly on the top part of the cheek, directly under your eyes. Relax your cheeks until they return to normal position. Smile again, using the corners of your mouth to lift up your cheek muscles and focus on pushing those muscles toward your eyes.

contribute to the aging process. Studies have found that the most active adults are younger on a cellular level (as shown by measures like telomeres) by nine years compared to their sedentary

READ A BOOK FOR THIRTY MINUTES A DAY Bookworms, rejoice: reading a book, fiction, in particular, could give you a survival advantage. That’s what a study in the journal Social Science & Medicine revealed after researchers examined the reading patterns of 3,635 people who were fifty or older. Overall, book readers (most likely fiction, versus newspapers or magazines) lived almost two years longer than non-readers. Reading as little as thirty minutes a day conferred these benefits.

You’ve heard the saying that the early birds get the worm. Turns out, they also live longer. That’s the news from a study in the journal Chronobiology International, which found that night owls, or those folks who stay up late and have trouble getting up in the morning, have higher rates of psychological and neurological disorders and diabetes than morning larks. Here’s

While these areas share many characteristics, one that links them is regular consumption of beans. Beans are often the centerpiece of meals in these locations—so much that Blue Zoners often eat 1 cup a day. That act alone could add four years to your life. Beans also factor into Dr. Michael Greger’s Daily Dozen. He’s the physician and nutrition researcher who wrote How Not to Die, which highlights foods you should eat every day. No surprise that beans are on that list—three servings of them

199 out of 200 applicants for every programming job can't write code at all. I repeat: they can't write any code whatsoever.

And Grave didn’t say anything to her as he rushed at her, swiping for her head with both blades. She stepped aside, dodging him with maddening ease. Grave lunged again. But faster than he could follow she ducked and slashed her sword across his shins. He hit the wet ground before he felt the pain. The world flashed black and gray and red, and agony tore at him. A dagger still left in his hand, he scuttled backward toward the wall. But his legs wouldn’t respond, and his arms strained to pull him through the damp filth. “Bitch,” he hissed. “Bitch.” He hit the wall, blood pouring from his legs. Bone had been sliced. He would not be able to walk. He could still find a way to make her pay, though. She stopped a few feet away and sheathed her sword. She drew a long, jeweled dagger. He swore at her, the filthiest word he could think of. She chuckled, and faster than a striking asp, she had one of his arms against the wall, the dagger glinting. Pain ripped through his right wrist, then his left as it, too, was slammed into the stone. Grave screamed—truly screamed—as he found his arms pinned to the wall by two daggers. His blood was nearly black in the moonlight. He thrashed, cursing her again and again. He would bleed to death unless he pulled his arms from the wall. With otherworldly silence, she crouched before him and lifted his chin with another dagger. Grave panted as she brought her face close to his. There was nothing beneath the cowl—nothing of this world. She had no face. “Who hired you?” she asked, her voice like gravel. “To do what?” he asked, almost sobbing. Maybe he could feign innocence. He could talk his way out, convince this arrogant whore he had nothing to do with it … She turned the dagger, pressing it into his neck. “To kill Princess Nehemia.” “N-n-no one. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And then, without even an intake of breath, she buried another dagger he hadn’t realized she’d been holding into his thigh. So deep he felt the reverberation as it hit the cobblestones beneath. His scream shattered out of him, and Grave writhed, his wrists rising farther on the blades. “Who hired you?” she asked again. Calm, so calm. “Gold,” Grave moaned. “I have gold.” She drew yet another dagger and shoved it into his other thigh, piercing again to the stone. Grave shrieked—shrieked to gods who did not save him. “Who hired you?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” After a heartbeat, she withdrew the daggers from

Bryce held Danika’s stare. Did not look away as she said again, “Danika, close your eyes.” Trembling, Danika obeyed. Squeezed them shut. The asp shifter clicked off the gun’s safety, not even glancing at Bryce and the debris that floated toward the sky. “Yeah, you’d better close your eyes, you—” Bryce exploded. White, blinding light ruptured from her, unleashed from that secret place in her heart. Right into the eyes of the asp shifter. He screamed, clawing at his face. Blazing bright as the sun, Bryce moved. Pain forgotten, she had his arm in her hands

Chiri silently phrased a possible conversation about how to get Sparrow's two relatives on a journey to Flarentine. What could she say to convince the two royals they were destined to return and claim their birthright? But her thoughts circled, and she considered the words of the prophecy, seeking aid to her dilemma. Unease stroked her senses as she remembered parts of the dark prophecy’s words. The protector’s shadow falls over the land, An unbridled slayer, the legion of war in Death’s bliss. Darkness cast with a feathered hand, The black veil of fear, a swift kiss. Supple force with powers affront, make a stand, Unfolding flower, bending a rift in mist. Trembling, the conqueror of magic's demand, Beware the protector of Flaren’s fist. Was Tara the one spoken of? Was she the one who would… conquer magic? Chiri fought an inner struggle to deny the apparent likeness found in the capable young fighter before her to the well-known Flaren prophecy most felt led to certain death.

convinced was a mark left by the killer. It was a circle two inches in diameter on the upper right hip. Within the circle was a crossword with the letters A-S-P arranged horizontally and vertically with the S in common. The letters of the crossword were backwards on the victim’s body, indicating that they read correctly on the device or tool used to make the mark. The circle around the crossword appeared to be a snake eating itself but the blurring of the bruising in the tissue made this impossible to confirm.

Pavement, or the surface of a road, comes in many forms. There’s your asphalt (pronounced ass-fault, not asp-halt), your cobblestone, your gravel, your concrete, your—

Hotel Die Swaene,

Web Application Development In this modern world of computer technology all people are using internet. In particular, to take advantage of this scenario the web provides a way for marketers to get to know the people visiting their sites and start communicating with them. One way of doing this is asking web visitors to subscribe to newsletters, to submit an application form when requesting information on products or provide details to customize their browsing experience when next visiting a particular website. In computing, a web application is a client–server software application in which the client runs in a web browser. HTML5 introduced explicit language support for making applications that are loaded as web pages, but can store data locally and continue to function while offline. Web Applications are dynamic web sites combined with server side programming which provide functionalities such as interacting with users, connecting to back-end databases, and generating results to browsers. Examples of Web Applications are Online Banking, Social Networking, Online Reservations, eCommerce / Shopping Cart Applications, Interactive Games, Online Training, Online Polls, Blogs, Online Forums, Content Management Systems, etc.. Applications are usually broken into logical chunks called “tiers”, where every tier is assigned a role. Traditional applications consist only of 1 tier, which resides on the client machine, but web applications lend themselves to an n-tiered approach by nature. Though many variations are possible, the most common structure is the three-tiered application. In its most common form, the three tiers are called presentation, application and storage, in this order. A web browser is the first tier (presentation), an engine using some dynamic Web content technology (such as ASP, CGI, ColdFusion, Dart, JSP/Java, Node.js, PHP, Python or Ruby on Rails) is the middle tier (application logic), and a database is the third tier (storage).The web browser sends requests to the middle tier, which services them by making queries and updates against the database and generates a user interface. Client Side Scripting / Coding – Client Side Scripting is the type of code that is executed or interpreted by browsers. Client Side Scripting is generally viewable by any visitor to a site (from the view menu click on “View Source” to view the source code). Below are some common Client Side Scripting technologies: HTML (HyperTextMarkup Language) CSS (Cascading Style Sheets) JavaScript Ajax (Asynchronous JavaScript and XML) jQuery (JavaScript Framework Library – commonly used in Ajax development) MooTools (JavaScript Framework Library – commonly used in Ajax development) Dojo Toolkit (JavaScript Framework Library – commonly used in Ajax development) Server Side Scripting / Coding – Server Side Scripting is the type of code that is executed or interpreted by the web server. Server Side Scripting is not viewable or accessible by any visitor or general public. Below are the common Server Side Scripting technologies: PHP (very common Server Side Scripting language – Linux / Unix based Open Source – free redistribution, usually combines with MySQL database) Zend Framework (PHP’s Object Oriented Web Application Framework) ASP (Microsoft Web Server (IIS) Scripting language) ASP.NET (Microsoft’s Web Application Framework – successor of ASP) ColdFusion (Adobe’s Web Application Framework) Ruby on Rails (Ruby programming’s Web Application Framework – free redistribution) Perl (general purpose high-level programming language and Server Side Scripting Language – free redistribution – lost its popularity to PHP) Python (general purpose high-level programming language and Server Side Scripting language – free redistribution). We also provide Training in various Computer Languages. TRIRID provide quality Web Application Development Services. Call us @ 8980010210

Once we exhausted the ad inventory with purchase intent, we expanded to people considering investing in a solution but who need more information before deciding. For example, many people search for things like “What are the benefits of a composite roof?” Although their search doesn’t indicate immediate purchase intent, when exposed to the rest of the ASP™, we can lead them to a purchase decision.

Her heart nearly stopped when a hand slid over her mouth and another disarmed her. “I’m Commander Rodgers from the USS Washington, and you’re coming with me now,” an American growled in her ear. From the girth pressing against her back, he was solid—but Olivia could take him. Grinding her teeth, she threw an elbow to his sternum. He blocked—so like a hotshot. Few people were fast enough to react to one of her strikes. But she’d nail him with her second try. Whipping around, she aimed a kick at his groin, but he blocked that, too. At least six-two and faster than an asp, Rodgers stopped her next kick by catching her ankle and giving it a twist—a warning. “Enough. Come.” Jesus Christ, his eyes were the color of a teal lagoon and they drilled into her like daggers. She shook her head. God, she wasn’t about to go anywhere with dagger-eyes. Not without a fight. Suited up in scuba gear, his facemask cocked atop his head, the man had to be daft. “What the fuck, Aquaman?” she whisper-shouted. “If anyone sees you, we’ll both be shot before the first question’s asked.” His eyebrows slanted downward over those damned eyes. “Yeah?” he whisper-shouted back. “Everyone on this boat will be dead in fifteen. If you want to live, you’ll do as I say.” Olivia’s mouth went dry. She blinked, shaking her head. He had to be mistaken. One more day and al-Umari’s ass would be hers. “Are you off your trolley? I’ve put too much into this project to have it blown to smithereens. Call off your dogs before you cock-up the entire op. Now.” “No can do,” he said like her hard-earned cover wasn’t about to become the greatest wipeout in MI6 history. “Sorry to ruin your party, but there’s a bomb attached to the hull. Can’t be killed, can’t be dislodged, and if you stand here arguing with me for one more second, you’ll explode into so many pieces, you won’t make a meal for a goddamned minnow.” Those are my choices? “Christ!” She jammed her finger under his nose. “When this is over, your ass is mine.

Celaena took a deep breath and snatched back the lid. A black asp curled into itself, head drawn back low as it hissed. Celaena leapt away a yard, making for the parapet wall, but the Master let out a low click of his tongue. His hands moved, flowing and winding through the air like a river—like a snake. Observe it, he seemed to tell her. Move with it.

Watching the Master, she could see each of the qualities she had copied for the past few weeks—the contained power and swiftness, the cunning and the smooth restraint. He went through the motions again, and it took only a glance in her direction to get her to her feet atop the parapet wall. Mindful of her balance, she slowly copied him, her muscles singing with the rightness of the movements. She grinned as night after night of careful observation and mimicry clicked into place. Again and again, the sweep and curve of her arm, the twisting of her torso, even the rhythm of her breathing. Again and again, until she became the asp, until the sun broke over the horizon, bathing them in red light. Again and again, until there was nothing left but the Master and her as they greeted the new day.