Breed Winner Quotes

They were slaughtered,” she said. “A human breed known as colonizer killed millions.

Cultures have tried to teach a malign and apparently persuasive lie: that the most important metric of a good life is wealth and the luxury and power it brings. The rich think they live better when they are even richer. In America and many other places they use their wealth politically, to persuade the public to elect or accept leaders who will do that for them. They say that the justice we have imagined is socialism that threatens our freedom. Not everyone is gullible: many people lead contented lives without wealth. But many others are persuaded; they vote for low taxes to keep the jackpot full in case they too can win it, even though that is a lottery they are almost bound to lose. Nothing better illustrates the tragedy of an unexamined life: there are no winners in this macabre dance of greed and delusion. No respectable or even intelligible theory of value supposes that making and spending money has any value or importance in itself and almost everything people buy with that money lacks any importance as well. The ridiculous dream of a princely life is kept alive by ethical sleepwalkers. And they in turn keep injustice alive because their self-contempt breeds a politics of contempt for others. Dignity is indivisible.

Billy's native arrogance might well have been a gift of miffed genes, then come to splendid definition through the tests to which a street like Broadway puts a young man on the make: tests designed to refine a breed, enforce a code, exclude all simps and gumps, and deliver into the city's life a man worthy of functioning in this age of nocturnal supremacy. Men like Billy Phelan, forged in the brass of Broadway, send, in the time of their splendor, telegraphic statements of mission: I, you bums, am a winner. And that message, however devoid of Christ-like other-cheekery, dooms the faint-hearted Scottys of the night, who must sludge along, never knowing how it feels to spill over with the small change of sassiness, how it feels to leave the spillover on the floor, more where that came from, pal. Leave it for the sweeper.

Habitat doesn’t replicate itself. Places get crowded. Creatures go hungry. They struggle. The result is competition and deprivation and misery, winners and losers, unsuccessful efforts to breed and, for the less fortunate individuals, early death. Many are called, but few are chosen. The book that awakened Darwin to this reality was An Essay on the Principle of Population, by a severely logical clergyman and scholar named Thomas Malthus.

Arin glanced up as she approached. One tree shadowed the knoll, a laran tree, leaves broad and glossy. Their shadows dappled Arin’s face, made it a patchwork of sun and dark. It was hard to read his expression. She noticed for the first time the way he kept the scarred side of his face out of her line of sight. Or rather, what she noticed for the first time was how common this habit was for him in her presence--and what that meant. She stepped deliberately around him and sat so that he had to face her fully or shift into an awkward, neck-craned position. He faced her. His brow lifted, not so much in amusement as in his awareness of being studied and translated. “Just a habit,” he said, knowing what she’d seen. “You have that habit only with me.” He didn’t deny it. “Your scar doesn’t matter to me, Arin.” His expression turned sardonic and interior, as if he were listening to an unheard voice. She groped for the right words, worried that she’d get this wrong. She remembered mocking him in the music room of the imperial palace (I wonder what you believe could compel me to go to such epic lengths for your sake. Is it your charm? Your breeding? Not your looks, surely.). “It matters because it hurts you,” she said. “It doesn’t change how I see you. You’re beautiful. You always have been to me.” Even when she hadn’t realized it, even in the market nearly a year ago. Then later, when she understood his beauty. Again, when she saw his face torn, stitched, fevered. On the tundra, when his beauty terrified her. Now. Now, too. Her throat closed. The line of his jaw hardened. He didn’t believe her. “Arin--” “I’m sorry for what happened in the village.” She dropped her hand to her lap. She hadn’t been conscious of lifting it.

According to Donald J. Monk, the mathematical world is populated with 65% Platonists, 30% formalists, and 5% constructivists. Our own impression is that the Cohen-Dieudonne picture is closer to the truth. The typical mathematician is both a Platonist and a formalist-a secret Platonist with a formalist mask that he puts on when the occasion calls for it. Constructivists are a rare breed, whose status in the mathematical world sometimes seems to be that of tolerated heretics surrounded by orthodox members of an established church.

Just like us, successful people are also given 24 hours each day. The only differences between them and unsuccessful individuals are their winner mindset and self discipline.

they called the four winners again in reverse order. “And first place goes to Ripley, the Border Collie.” The black dog with white markings cocked his head at his name and, for an amateurs’ show, seemed to understand everything going on and what to expect. Annabel’s nervousness ramped up as the toy breeds and their handlers showed themselves off. A toy poodle with a giant attitude won first place. Annabel stood up and pinned the paper with her entry number on her shirt. For the last time, she plucked the last stray pieces of straw off Oliver’s neck. “Next up are the mixed breeds,” came the announcement. “All the best to both of you,” Dustin said. “Knock ‘em dead, you two,” Bob said and patted Oliver’s head. “Go strut your stuff.” Annabel started off with Oliver to her left, and since she was at the front, she led the pack as everyone else

Mona could be syrupy sweet, then knife you the minute your back was turned. There wasn’t a dirty trick she hadn’t used in the ring, and there were damn few she hadn’t been suspected of using outside the ring. There were rumors about false papers, puppies switched between litters, cosmetic surgery, even down to whispers of judges being bribed. She was a big winner and a powerful force in the breed. She couldn’t stand not winning, rarely congratulated anyone else on a win, and rather than seeming happy when she did win, she acted as if it was only what she deserved.

Outback birds need regular water, and many of these are thriving. Those doing better than ever include zebra finches, wood ducks, Bourke's parrots and possibly emus. On the other hand many insect-eaters are doing badly, because grazing stock destroy the plants on which insects breed. Seed-eaters themselves suffer when grasses are grazed too low to set seed. Dams create plenty of losers as well as winners, and that's something to keep in mind.