Bulletin Quotes

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There's an epigram tacked to my office bulletin board, pinched from a magazine -- "Wanting to meet an author because you like his work is like wanting to meet a duck because you like pâté.
Margaret Atwood (Negotiating with the Dead)
She gripped the wheel and squared her shoulders. She didn’t have to do any of this alone. All she had to do was notify the society and put out an All Points Bulletin on Adam and she’d know everything there was to know about the man within 24 hours.
Kirsten Fullmer
Books are the carriers of civilization. Without books, history is silent, literature dumb, science crippled, thought and speculation at a standstill. Without books, the development of civilization would have been impossible. They are engines of change (as the poet said), windows on the world and lighthouses erected in the sea of time. They are companions, teachers, magicians, bankers of the treasures of the mind. Books are humanity in print. [Bulletin of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, Vol. 34, No. 2 (Nov. 1980), pp. 16-32]
Barbara W. Tuchman
Eve: All this riot and uproar, V... is this Anarchy? Is this the Land of Do-As-You-Please? V: No. This is only the land of take-what-you-want. Anarchy means "without leaders", not "without order". With anarchy comes an age or ordnung, of true order, which is to say voluntary order... this age of ordung will begin when the mad and incoherent cycle of verwirrung that these bulletins reveal has run its course... This is not anarchy, Eve. This is chaos.
Alan Moore (V for Vendetta)
This bulletin brought to you from the Department of Duh.
K.A. Mitchell (Bad Company (Bad in Baltimore, #1))
One moment, please... We interrupt our regular program to bring you this special bulletin: It's a nice day outside.
Charles M. Schulz (The Complete Peanuts, Vol. 14: 1977-1978)
16 Things Romance Readers Are Tired Of Hearin 1. All Romance books are exactly the same. 2. The endings are so predictable. 3. You know romance doesn't happen like that in real life. 4. You're setting unrealistic expectations for yourself about love. 5. Real men don't have abs like that. 6.So you think you're going to go on a lot of dates? 7. So you think you're going to fall in love with an ex-boyfriend? 8. ...or a billionaire? 9. ...or a duke? 10. So you'll stop reading romances when you have a boyfriend, right? 11. It's basically mommy porn, right? 12. I could write a romance book. 13. Do you only read female authors? 14. I saw the Notebook once. 15. Is Danielle Steel your favorite author? 16. Do you read REAL books?
Bookbub Bulletin
Me, and thousands of others in this country like me, are half-baked, because we were never allowed to complete our schooling. Open our skulls, look in with a penlight, and you'll find an odd museum of ideas: sentences of history or mathematics remembered from school textbooks (no boy remembers his schooling like the one who was taken out of school, let me assure you), sentences about politics read in a newspaper while waiting for someone to come to an office, triangles and pyramids seen on the torn pages of the old geometry textbooks which every tea shop in this country uses to wrap its snacks in, bits of All India Radio news bulletins, things that drop into your mind, like lizards from the ceiling, in the half hour before falling asleep--all these ideas, half formed and half digested and half correct, mix up with other half-cooked ideas in your head, and I guess these half-formed ideas bugger one another, and make more half-formed ideas, and this is what you act on and live with.
Aravind Adiga (The White Tiger)
I went over to where Ted was leaning against the green cinderblock wall. He was sitting with his legs splayed out below the bulletin board, which was full of notices from the Mathematical Society of America, which nobody ever read, Peanuts comic strips (the acme of humor, in the late Mrs. Underwood’s estimation), and a poster showing Bertrand Russell and a quote: “Gravity alone proves the existence of God.” But any undergraduate in creation could have told Bertrand that it has been conclusively proved that there is no gravity; the earth just sucks.
Richard Bachman
I sat at a table in my shadowy kitchen, staring down a bottle of Boone's Farm Hard Lemonade, when a magic fluctuation hit. My wards shivered and died, leaving my home stripped of its defenses. The TV flared into life, unnaturally loud in the empty house. I raised my eyebrow at the bottle and bet it that another urgent bulletin was on. The bottle lost. "Urgent bulletin!" Margaret Chang announced. "The Attorney General advises all citizens that any attempt at summoning or other activities resulting in the appearance of a supernaturally powerful being can be hazardous to yourself and to other citizens." "No shit," I told the bottle.
Ilona Andrews (Magic Bites (Kate Daniels, #1))
As many as six out of ten American adults have never read a book of any kind, and the bulletins from the nation’s educational frontiers read like the casualty reports from a lost war.
Lewis H. Lapham (Gag Rule: On the Suppression of Dissent and the Stifling of Democracy)
Over my desk, I’ve got this enormous bulletin board, and on it I’ve tacked black-and-white photographs of writers at work.
Jennifer Niven (All the Bright Places)
Whatever modern democracies may tell themselves about their commitment to free speech and to diversity of opinion, the values of a given society will uncannily match those of whichever organizations have the scale to pay for runs of thirty-second slots around the nightly news bulletin.
Alain de Botton (Religion for Atheists: A Non-Believer's Guide to the Uses of Religion)
Our news bulletins were full of killings and death, so it was natural for Atal to think of coffins and graves. Instead of hide-and-seek and cops and robbers, children were now playing army vs. Taliban.
Malala Yousafzai (I Am Malala: The Story of the Girl Who Stood Up for Education and Was Shot by the Taliban)
I must go now." "Stay up the night with me! We'll go to the fish market. There are great noble monsters packed in ice. There are turtles, live ones, for famous restaurants. We'll rescue one and write messages on his shell and put him in the sea, Shell, seashell. Or we'll go to the vegetable market. They've got red-net bags full of onions that look like huge pearls. Or we'll go down to Forty-second Street and see the movies and buy a mimeographed bulletin of jobs we can get in Pakistan --" "I work tomorrow." "Which has nothing to do with it." "But I'd better go now." "I know this is unheard in America, but I'll walk you home." "I live on Twenty-third Street." "Exactly what I'd hoped. It's over a hundred blocks.
Leonard Cohen (The Favorite Game)
The library is not a shrine for the worship of books. It is not a temple where literary incense must be burned or where one's devotion to the bound book is expressed in ritual. A library, to modify the famous metaphor of Socrates, should be the delivery room for the birth of ideas - a place where history comes to life. — Cited in ALA Bulletin, Oct. 1954, p.475
Norman Cousins
Learn all you can.... Get to know their families, clans and tribes, friends and enemies, wells, hills and roads. Do all this by listening and by indirect inquiry. ... Get to speak their dialect ... not yours. Until you can understand their allusions, avoid getting deep into conversation or you will drop bricks. ~ T.E. Lawrence, from "The Arab Bulletin," 20 August 1917
T.E. Lawrence
In the white man's world, language, too -- and the way which the white man thinks of it--has undergone a process of change. The white man takes such things as words and literatures for granted, as indeed he must, for nothing in his world is so commonplace. On every side of him there are words by the millions, an unending succession of pamphlets and papers, letters and books, bills and bulletins, commentaries and conversations. He has diluted and multiplied the Word, and words have begun to close in on him. He is sated and insensitive; his regard for language -- for the Word itself -- as an instrument of creation has diminished nearly to the point of no return. It may be that he will perish by the Word.
N. Scott Momaday (House Made of Dawn)
Most smiles are started by another smile.
E.C. McKenzie (Quips & Quotes for Church Bulletins)
I remember clearly the deaths of three men. One was the richest man of the century, who, having clawed his way to wealth through the souls and bodies of men, spent many years trying to buy back the love he had forfeited and by that process performed great service to the world and, perhaps, had much more than balanced the evils of his rise. I was on a ship when he died. The news was posted on the bulletin board, and nearly everyone recieved the news with pleasure. Several said, "Thank God that son of a bitch is dead." Then there was a man, smart as Satan, who, lacking some perception of human dignity and knowing all too well every aspect of human weakness and wickedness, used his special knowledge to warp men, to buy men, to bribe and threaten and seduce until he found himself in a position of great power. He clothed his motives in the names of virtue, and I have wondered whether he ever knew that no gift will ever buy back a man's love when you have removed his self-love. A bribed man can only hate his briber. When this man died the nation rang with praise... There was a third man, who perhaps made many errors in performance but whose effective life was devoted to making men brave and dignified and good in a time when they were poor and frightened and when ugly forces were loose in the world to utilize their fears. This man was hated by few. When he died the people burst into tears in the streets and their minds wailed, "What can we do now?" How can we go on without him?" In uncertainty I am certain that underneath their topmost layers of frailty men want to be good and want to be loved. Indeed, most of their vices are attempted short cuts to love. When a man comes to die, mo matter what his talents and influence and genius, if he dies unloved his life must be a failure to him and his dying a cold horror....we should remember our dying and try so to live that our death brings no pleasure to the world.
John Steinbeck (East of Eden)
I looked down at the doors of the forbidden Dorms and studiously examined the bulletin boards covered with incomprehensible information about events and rules I didn’t understand—laundry schedules, inmate appointments with various staffers, crochet permits, and the weekend movie schedule. This weekend’s film was Bad Boys II.
Piper Kerman (Orange Is the New Black: My Year in a Women's Prison)
In those years before mobile phones, email and Skype, travelers depended on the rudimentary communications system known as the postcard. Other methods--the long-distance phone call, the telegram--were marked "For Emergency Use Only." So my parents waved me off into the unknown, and their news bulletins about me would have been restricted to "Yes, he's arrived safely,"and "Last time we heard he was in Oregon," and "We expect him back in a few weeks." I'm not saying this was necessarily better, let alone more character-forming; just that in my case it probably helped not to have my parents a button's touch away, spilling out anxieties and long-range weather forecasts, warning me against floods, epidemics and psychos who preyed on backpackers.
Julian Barnes (The Sense of an Ending)
Now her likeness gazed back at him from the bulletin board—her almond-shaped eyes, her pouty lips, her long straight hair swept over one shoulder of her sleeveless dress. He could almost smell her cinnamon fragrance. Her knit brow and the downward turn of her mouth seemed to say: Leo Valdez, you are so full of it.
Rick Riordan (The Blood of Olympus (The Heroes of Olympus, #5))
That goes for old wounds, too, you know. I really wish we'd had the chance to talk before this," he says, cracking the window so the smoke can escape. "There's a Longfellow quote I have stuck on my bulletin board at the church office- 'There is no grief like the grief that does not speak'- and it's true. I've found that keeping pain inside doesn't give it a chance to heal, but bringing it out into the light, holding it right there in your hands and trusting that you're strong enough to make it through, not hating the pain, not loving it, just seeing it for what it really is can change how you go on from there. Time alone doesn't heal emotional wounds, Sayre, and you don't want to live the rest of your life bottled up with anger and guilt and bitterness. That's how people self-destruct.
Laura Wiess (Ordinary Beauty)
The road was called Agnes weeps, after the town's first schoolteacher, who had burst into tears when she saw how plunging and twisting the road was and realized how remote the town must be. But from the first moment I laid eyes on it, I loved that road. I thought of it as a winding staircase taking me out of the traffic jams, news bulletins, bureaucrats, air-raid sirens and locked doors of city life. Jim said we should rename the road Lilly sings.
Jeannette Walls (Half Broke Horses)
In 1937, the airship Hindenburg exploded at Lakehurst, N.J., just two hours before The March of Time went on the air. Only bulletins were available at air time, but it was enough: the segment focused on the history of dirigible travel and ended with a news flash on the Lakehurst tragedy. The orchestra and sound effects produced an unprecedented sense of reality, said Radio News: “of storm, explosion, frenzied cries, crackling flames, and crumpling girders.
John Dunning (On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio)
The students lurked on the edges of their teachers' lives for years, and brought bulletins from their own lives, which over time began to include lovers, ambitions, an upward trajectory.
Meg Wolitzer
She looked around. There was a bulletin board covered with A papers. She looked from one paper to another and hoped, with all her heart, that she’d see one with Bradley’s name on it. She didn’t.
Louis Sachar (There's a Boy in the Girls' Bathroom)
JIM AND IRENE Westcott were the kind of people who seem to strike that satisfactory average of income, endeavor, and respectability that is reached by the statistical reports in college alumni bulletins.
John Cheever (The Stories of John Cheever)
On the wall next to the door we’d entered through was a huge floor-to-ceiling bulletin/whiteboard combo and hanging from a thumbtack on the bulletin board amongst pictures and other various sorts of memorabilia was my bra. It’d been washed but it still had a good many blotches of pink on it. If that wasn’t shocking enough, the dialogue written over the last two weeks on the whiteboard pertaining to said bra certainly was. I’ll include the copy just so you can truly appreciate what I’m dealing with here. Tristan’s Mom: What’s this? Tristan: A size 34B lace covered slingshot. Jeff: Nice! Tristan’s Mom: Do I want to know? Tristan: I don’t know, do you? Tristan’s Mom: Not really. Are you planning on returning it or did you win some kind of prize? Tristan: I plead the fifth. Tristan’s Dad: Well done son. Jeff: Ditto! Tristan’s Mom: Don’t encourage him. Tristan: Gee, thanks Mom. Tristan’s Dad: Can’t a father be proud of his only child? Tristan’s Mom: He doesn’t need your help…obviously. Tristan’s Dad: That’s because he takes after me. Tristan: Was there anything else I can do for you two? Tristan’s Mom: Tell her I tried to get the stains out, but I’m afraid they set in before I got to it. Tristan: I’m sure she’ll appreciate your effort, but if I’m any judge (and I’d like to think I am) its size has caused it to become obsolete and she needs to trade up. Jeff: I’m so proud. Tristan: Thanks man. Tristan’s Mom: A name would be nice you know. Tristan: Camie. Tristan’s Mom: Do we get to meet her? Tristan: Sure. I’ll have my people call your people and set it up. Tristan’s Mom: I don’t know why I bother. Do you want anything from the store? Tristan: Yeah, Camie’s sleeping over tonight and I promised her bacon and eggs for breakfast. Jeff’s got the eggs covered but could you pick up some bacon for us and maybe a box of Twinkies for the bus? Thanks, you’re the best. Jeff: I have the eggs covered? Tristan’s Dad: He gets his sense of humor from you. Tristan’s Mom: Flattery will get you everywhere. How would you like your eggs prepared dear?
Jenn Cooksey (Shark Bait (Grab Your Pole, #1))
Most of us carry around the extravagant hope that the world can at least catch a glimpse of what we consider to be our true face. We can't help harbouring the desire that past achievements and former incarnations still reveal some glimpse of themselves on our person. That people might be able to read the history of a face and not just its live bulletins.
Glenn Haybittle (Scorched Earth)
Maeve, you wrote this to Tillie Olsen, who treasured it, and had it up on her studio wall. I copied it, and it’s now on the [bulletin] board over my desk.” The passage reads: I have been trying to think of the word to say to you that would never fail to lift you up when you are too tired or too sad [to] not be downcast. But I can think only of a reminder—you are all it has. You are all your work has. It has nobody else and never had anybody else. If you deny it hands and a voice, it will continue as it is, alive, but speechless and without hands. You know it has eyes and can see you, and you know how hopefully it watches you. But I am speaking of a soul that is timid but that longs to be known. When you are so sad that you “cannot work” there is always danger fear will enter in and begin withering around. A good way to remain on guard is to go to the window and watch the birds for an hour or two or three. It is very comforting to see their beaks opening and shutting. This is real friendship—the kind that takes another’s soul as seriously as one’s own. Aristotle considered it the highest order of love, philia, or “friendship love,” in which tending to somebody else’s welfare is central to our own flourishing.
Kate Bolick (Spinster)
Trees don't rely exclusively on dispersal in the air, for if they did, some neighbors would not get wind of the danger. Dr. Suzanne Simard of the University of British Columbia in Vancouver has discovered that they also warn each other using chemical signals sent through the fungal networks around their root tips, which operate no matter what the weather. Surprisingly, news bulletins are sent via the roots not only by means of chemical compounds but also by means of electrical impulses that travel at the speed of a third of an inch per second. In comparison with our bodies, it is, admittedly, extremely slow. However there are species in the animal kingdom, such as jellyfish and worms, whose nervous systems conduct impulses at similar speed. Once the latest news has been broadcast, all oaks int he area promptly pump tannins through their veins.
Peter Wohlleben (The Hidden Life of Trees: What They Feel, How They Communicate – Discoveries from a Secret World)
He undressed and, wearing slippers and a robe, went to the bathroom to shave. He turned on the radio. They read the newspapers on the Dominican Voice and Caribbean Radio. Until a few years ago the news bulletins had begun at five. But when his brother Petan, the owner of the Dominican Voice, found out that he woke at four, he moved the newscasts up an hour. The other stations followed suit. They knew he listened to the radio while he shaved, bathed, and dressed, and they were painstakingly careful.
Mario Vargas Llosa (The Feast of the Goat)
They talk to kids in their regular voices and say things that they would say in their own living rooms. Their bulletin boards are always a little raggedy, and their desks are always a little messy, and their libraries are always a little out of order, but kids love them because they talk about real things with real voices and they always tell the truth.
Matthew Dicks (Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend)
Satisfying news hunger no longer involves a twice daily diet of a morning newspaper and evening TV news bulletin: news comes in snack-form
Ian Hargreaves (Journalism: A Very Short Introduction)
Rook is reading the bulletin intently, like she’s studying for a test. God, I love her.
J.A. Huss (Slack: A Day in the Life of Ford Aston (Rook and Ronin Spinoff, #1))
Abbott joined the union, the Australian Journalists’ Association. He led a little strike at the Bulletin and opposed a big strike at the Australian.
David Marr (Political Animal: The Making of Tony Abbott [Quarterly Essay 47])
The glint of devilment in his bright blue eyes, so blue that the FBI once described them in bulletins as azure. It's the rare bank robber who moves the FBI to such lyricism.
J.R. Moehringer
Stop fussing,” Legna admonished her, tapping her finger against Isabella’s absently energetic hand. “I’m getting married in a few minutes, Legna, I think I’ve a right to fuss.” Isabella felt her heart turn over as she spoke aloud, listening to herself talk about her impending marriage. “Well, brides are supposed to be blushing, as I understand it. At the moment you are no less than five shades of gray.” Legna continued with her interrupted weaving of more ribbons in Isabella’s hair. “And as much as it matches the silver of your dress, I think you would look better with a little natural color.” Legna reached to smooth down a portion of the shimmering silver fabric that draped off of the bride’s shoulders in a Grecian fashion. “You know,” she pressed, “there are only two nights in a year when Demons perform a joining ceremony. Samhain and Beltane. If you pass out tonight, you will have to wait until next spring.” “Thanks for the bulletin. You’re too kind,” Isabella retorted dryly. “Actually, purely out of kindness, I will tell you that your future husband is just shy of tossing his cookies himself, so you can take comfort in knowing he is just as nervous as you are.” “Legna!” Bella laughed. “You’re a wretch!” She turned to look at the female Demon, briefly admiring how pretty she looked in her soft white chiffon gown. “And how would you know? You’re standing too close to me to be able to sense his emotions.” “Because when I went to fetch the ribbons, he was seated next to Noah with his head between his knees.” Legna giggled. “I have never seen anything rattle Jacob before. I cannot help but find it amusing.
Jacquelyn Frank (Jacob (Nightwalkers, #1))
Espèce de saint d'Afrique, pensé-je, tu viens donner ta sagesse à un sauvage d'Europe qui suit la lune sur le calendrier et les nuages d'après le bulletin de la radio, et qui ne sait lire aucun mot sans un alphabet. (p. 93)
Erri De Luca (Tre cavalli)
But we would do well to meditate daily, rather as the religious do on their God, on the 9.5 trillion kilometres which comprise a single light year, or perhaps on the luminosity of the largest known star in our galaxy, Eta Carinae, 7,500 light years distant, 400 times the size of the sun and 4 million times as bright. We should punctuate our calendars with celebrations in honour of VY Canis Majoris, a red hypergiant in the constellation Canis Major, 5,000 light years from earth and 2,100 times bigger than our sun. Nightly – perhaps after the main news bulletin – we might observe a moment of silence in order to contemplate the 200 to 400 billion stars in our galaxy, the 100 billion galaxies and the 3 septillion stars in the universe. Whatever their value may be to science, the stars are in the end no less valuable to mankind as solutions to our megalomania, self-pity and anxiety. To answer our need to be repeatedly connected through our senses to ideas of transcendence, we should insist that a percentage of all prominently positioned television screens on public view be hooked up to live feeds from the transponders of our extraplanetary telescopes. We would then be able to ensure that our frustrations, our broken hearts, our hatred of those who haven’t called us and our regrets over opportunities that have passed us by would continuously be rubbed up against, and salved by, images of galaxies such as Messier 101, a spiral structure which sits towards the bottom left corner of the constellation Ursa Major, 23 million light years away, majestically unaware of everything we are and consolingly unaffected by all that tears us apart.
Alain de Botton (Religion for Atheists: A Non-Believer's Guide to the Uses of Religion)
I remember clearly the deaths of three men. One was the richest man of the century, who, having clawed his way to wealth through the souls and bodies of men, spent many years trying to buy back the love he had forfeited and by that process performed great service to the world and, perhaps, had much more than balanced the evils of his rise. I was on a ship when he died. The news was posted on the bulletin board, and nearly everyone received the news with pleasure. Several said, "Thank God that son of a bitch is dead.
John Steinbeck (East of Eden)
It shows that the most obscene figures are not the ignorant ranting racists, but the legal minds who front for them, who “invent” for them the legislative proposals and the propaganda bulletins. They deliberately choose to foster distortions, always under the guise of patriotism, upon a people who have no means of checking the facts. Their appeals are of regional interest, showing complete contempt for privacy of conscience, and a willingness to destroy and subvert values that have traditionally been held supreme in this land.
John Howard Griffin (Black Like Me)
If to a poet a physicist may speak Freely, as though we shared a common tongue, For "peace in our time" I should hardly seek By means that once proved wrong. It seems the Muscovite Has quite a healthy, growing appetite. We can't be safe; at least we can be right. Some bombs may help - perhaps a bomb-proof cellar, But surely not the Chamberlain umbrella. The atom is now big; the world is small. Unfortunately, we have conquered space. If war does come, it comes to all, To every distant place. Will people have the dash That Britons had when their world seemed to crash Before a small man with a small mustache? You rhyme the atoms to amuse and charm us - Your counsel should inspire, and not disarm us. (Teller's reply to an anonymous British man's poem/message (that Americans are too belligerent), both in the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists).
Edward Teller (Memoirs: A Twentieth Century Journey In Science And Politics)
It should come as no surprise to readers of the MAPS Bulletin that psychedelic plants are used as a sacrament by many native cultures all over the world. It may not be so obvious that these same plants are often incorporated into the coming-of-age ceremonies of these various societies.
Rick Doblin (Manifesting Minds: A Review of Psychedelics in Science, Medicine, Sex, and Spirituality)
Le peuple à qui on avait eu tant de peine de démontrer que le marabout ne peut rien à son triste sort, le peuple à peine échappé à l'attrape-nigaud des zaouia, retombait à plein dans le nouveau piège administratif, celui de l'élu qui peut tout, du bulletin de vote qui fait des miracles.
Malek Bennabi (Pourritures)
One of the powerful functions of a library — any library — lies in its ability to take us away from worlds that are familiar and comfortable and into ones which we can neither predict nor control, to lead us down new roads whose contours and vistas provide us with new perspectives. Sometimes, if we are fortunate, those other worlds turn out to have more points of familiarity with our own than we had thought. Sometimes we make connections back to familiar territory and when we have returned, we do so supplied with new perspectives, which enrich our lives as scholars and enhance our role as teachers. Sometimes the experience takes us beyond our immediate lives as scholars and teachers, and the library produces this result particularly when it functions as the storehouse of memory, a treasury whose texts connect us through time to all humanity." [Browsing in the Western Stacks, Harvard Library Bulletin NS 6(3): 27-33, 1995]
Richard F. Thomas
A mom at a PTA meeting the year before had taken Rosie aside to advise her not to tack condoms to a bulletin board next to the bed, no matter how convenient a storage solution that seemed, a lesson she confessed, nodding at a first-grader in the corner licking paste off his fingers, she had learned the hard way.
Laurie Frankel (This Is How It Always Is)
The National District Attorney’s Association Bulletin reported a revealing study that was conducted on another group of destructive men: child sexual abusers. The researcher asked each man whether he himself had been sexually victimized as a child. A hefty 67 percent of the subjects said yes. However, the researcher then informed the men that he was going to hook them up to a lie-detector test and ask them the same questions again. Affirmative answers suddenly dropped to only 29 percent. In other words, abusers of all varieties tend to realize the mileage they can get out of saying, “I’m abusive because the same thing was done to me.” Although
Lundy Bancroft (Why Does He Do That?: Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men)
The overlap between newspapers was so large that you would get less and less information the more you read. Yet everyone was so eager to become familiar with every fact that they read every freshly printed document and listened to every radio station as if the great answer was going to be revealed to them in the next bulletin. People
Nassim Nicholas Taleb (The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable)
For heaven’s sake, they are forever going on about the ‘proud, successful German advances’ in the Army news bulletins, but here in Stalingrad I haven’t seen anything of that. The only thing I understand is that we are holed up in these ruins like cowering rats, fighting for our lives. But what else can we do, given the Russian superiority?
Gunther K. Koschorrek (Blood Red Snow: The Memoirs of a German Soldier on the Eastern Front)
Scientists who had worked on the atom bomb added their voices to the growing movement. George Kistiakowsky, a Harvard University chemistry professor who had worked on the first atomic bomb, and later was science adviser to President Eisenhower, became a spokesman for the disarmament movement. HIs last public remarks, before his death from cancer at the age of eighty-two, were in an editorial for the Bulletin of Atomic Scientist in December 1982. "I tell you as my parting words: Forget the channels. There simply is not enough time left before the world explodes. Concentrate instead on organizing, with so many others of like mind, a mass movement for peace such as there has not been before.
Howard Zinn (A People's History of the United States)
Obviously it is impossible to define the exact relationship between an individual and his environment. One might as well try to photograph nostalgia or submit passion as an exhibit. Honor, integrity, and love — and hate — cannot be pierced with thumbtacks and displayed on bulletin boards. Yet all exist. Some motives reside beyond the rules of evidence.
William Manchester (The Death of a President: November 1963)
rights reserved. No part of this bulletin may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages or reproduce illustrations in a review with appropriate credits; nor may any part of this bulletin be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic,
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
The March of death. To me it seems that , we have completely been blinded by the toxic love for evil , that totally incapacitated our soul , The virtues of fake nationalism , are totally impotent to understand , the fact that if patriotism was based on hate , As we are fed to consume “it” , In news bulletin is annoying, Vulgar and grotesque . Absurdity
BinYamin Gulzar
Religion is for those individuals trying to avoid going to hell. Spirituality is for those of us who have been there.
United Methodish Church bulletin
addition to the landscape. No other shrub can bloom almost continuously from early summer until frost. And no
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages or reproduce illustrations in a review with appropriate
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Roark reached for the 'link again, cursed himself for a fool, then turned away from it. He wasn’t going to keep calling her, her friends, her haunts, hoping for a scrap. Bugger that. She’d be home when she came home. Or she wouldn’t. Christ Jesus, where was she? Why the hell was she putting him through this? He’d done nothing to earn it. God knew he’d done plenty along the way to earn her wrath, but not this time. Not this way. Still, that look on her face that morning had etched itself in his head, on his heart, into his guts. He couldn’t burn it out. He’d seen that look once or twice before, but not on his account. He’d seen it when they’d gone to that fucking room in Dallas where she’d once suffered beyond reason. He’d seen it when she tore out of a nightmare. Didn’t she know he’d cut off his own hand before he’d put that look on her face? She bloody well should know it. Should know him. This was her own doing, and she’d best get her stubborn ass home right quick so they could have this out as they were supposed to have things out. She could kick something. Punch something. Punch him if that would put an end to it. A good rage, that’s what was needed here, he told himself, then they’d be done with this nonsense once and for all. Where the fucking hell was she? He considered his own rage righteous, deserved—and struggled not to acknowledge it hid a sick panic that she didn’t mean to come back to him. She’d damn well come back, he thought furiously. If she thought she could do otherwise, he had a bulletin for her. He’d hunt her down, by Christ, he would, and he’d drag her back where she belonged. Goddamn it all, he needed her back where she belonged. He paced the parlor like a cat in a cage, praying as he rarely prayed, for the remote in his pocket to beep, signaling the gates had opened. And she was coming home.
J.D. Robb (Innocent in Death (In Death, #24))
pathar pocha’, a leaf-wiper, an Adivasi. The manner of cleaning one’s bottom is stronger than any other custom in a culture. Most Adivasi people, left to themselves, use leaves. I pursued the rather neglected science of examining the qualities of various species of leaves; even sent my findings to the Kew Bulletin for publication but was turned down as their editorial board found it ‘rather inappropriate’.
Madhu Ramnath (Woodsmoke and Leafcups: Autobiographical Footnotes to the Anthropology of the Durwa People)
People are so used to the computer net today that it is easy to forget what a window to the world it can be—and I include myself. One can grow so canalized in using a terminal only in certain ways—paying bills, making telephonic calls, listening to news bulletins—that one can neglect its richer uses. If a subscriber is willing to pay for the service, almost anything can be done at a terminal that can be done out of bed.
Robert A. Heinlein (Friday)
One day I saw my little brother Atal digging furiously in the garden. ‘What are you doing?’ I asked him. ‘Making a grave,’ he said. Our news bulletins were full of killings and death so it was natural for Atal to think of coffins and graves. Instead of hide and seek and cops and robbers, children were now playing Army vs Taliban. They made rockets from branches and used sticks for Kalashnikovs; these were their sports of terror.
Malala Yousafzai (I am Malala: The Story of the Girl Who Stood Up for Education and was Shot by the Taliban)
Broadcast just two days after the attack on Pearl Harbor, this episode provides ample evidence that everyone involved with Fibber McGee and Molly is behind the war effort, from Wilcox’s reading a telegram from Johnson’s Wax authorizing NBC to break in with any news bulletins to Harlow’s appeal to buy defense bonds at the close which leads into a stirring version of the first verse of a patriotic hymn sung by everyone in attendance.
Clair Schulz (FIBBER McGEE & MOLLY ON THE AIR, 1935-1959 (REVISED AND ENLARGED EDITION))
If there was one message I could be known for in the years and centuries after I’m gone, one message for which I’m remembered, if I am remembered at all, it would be the urgent bulletin I’m delivering right here and now: where you are now and what you are now—at this precise moment—is absolutely, one hundred percent okay… and accepting yourself right now for who and what and where you are is not only your best bet, it’s your only bet.
Michael Vito Tosto (Elsewhere and Otherwise: Essays)
You will,” said Vorkosigan wearily, “sit in that fortified palace that half the engineers are going to be tied up constructing, and party in it, and let your men do your dying for you, until you’ve bought your ground by the sheer weight of the corpses piled on it, because that’s the kind of soldiering your mentor has taught you. And then send bulletins home about your great victory. Maybe you can have the casualty lists declared top secret.” “Aral, careful,” warned Vorhalas, shocked.
Lois McMaster Bujold (Shards of Honour (Vorkosigan Saga, #1))
We found time for less serious things that summer, such as long hours spent playing games like Monopoly, Parcheesi, and Yacht. Peter came honestly by his honorary title of GGP—abbreviation for Great Game Player, bestowed on him by my young brother and sister. My family thought it would look impressive on his church bulletin—thus, “Peter Marshall, DD, GGP.” The day of our wedding saw a cold rain falling, “an ideal day for staying home and playing games,” Peter said. It was indeed. During the morning, I put the finishing touches to my veil and wrestled with a new influx of wedding gifts swathed in tons of tissue paper and excelsior. I gathered the impression that Peter was rollicking through successive games of Yacht, Parcheesi, and Rummy with anyone who had sufficient leisure to indulge him. That was all right, but I thought he was carrying it a bit too far when, thirty minutes before the ceremony, he was so busy pushing his initial advantage in a game of Chinese Checkers with my little sister Em that he still had not dressed.
Catherine Marshall (A Man Called Peter)
The data emerging about the mental health of our kids only confirms the harm done by asking so little of our kids when it comes to life skills, yet so much of them when it comes to adhering to the academic plans we’ve made for them and achieving more, ever more academically. They are stressed out of their minds and have no resilience with which to cope with that stress, and we continue along our pressurizing path, as if this trauma is not happening, or as if somehow our kids’ struggles—this suffering—is, or will be, “worth it.” The guidance center bulletin from any
Julie Lythcott-Haims (How to Raise an Adult: Break Free of the Overparenting Trap and Prepare Your Kid for Success)
When negative experiences such as having one's house shot at occur in my dad's life he tends to come alive. His confusion lifts. Pieces of life's puzzle fuse into meaning like the continents before that colossal rift. It's entirely logical to him that his house has been shot at and when he's able to spend a minute or two in a world that makes sense he appears almost happy. And when he gets happy he does decisive things like this time he went over to the bulletin board in the kitchen and took down the city bus schedule that we've had up there since Tash left and before the bus depot itself closed down. He put it in the garbage can under the sink. Phew. Done. Goodbye past. But then I imagined him on a day when shitty things weren't happening and he'd be feeling his usual mystified self and go to the dump and there he would see that little piece of paper with the schedule on it and it would bring him to his knees. Just destroy him for a minute or two and he'd probably pick it up and wipe whatever seagull crap there was on it and straighten it out with the side of his hand and bring it back to the kitchen bulletin board and ARRANGE it on there so you'd know it was the centerpiece of his life.
Miriam Toews (A Complicated Kindness)
But this is the only account hand-copied and tacked to my bulletin board, the testimony of a Dutch pilot caught on shore near Anjer, a city now gone: 'The moment of greatest anguish was not the actual destruction of the wave. The worst part by far was afterwards, when I knew I was saved, and the receding flood carried back past me the bodies of friends and neighbors and family. And I remember clawing past other arms and legs as you might fight through a bramble. And I thought, 'The world is our relentless adversary, rarely outwitted, never tiring.' And I thought, 'I would give all these people's lives, once more, to see something so beautiful again.
Jim Shepard (Love and Hydrogen: New and Selected Stories)
Christians who are no longer sure that God loves and accepts them in Jesus, apart from their present spiritual achievements, are subconsciously radically insecure persons, much less secure than non-Christians, because of the constant bulletins they receive from their Christian environment about the holiness of God and the righteousness they are supposed to have. Their insecurity shows itself in pride, a fierce defensive assertion of their own righteousness and defensive criticism of others. They cling desperately to legal, pharisaical righteousness, but envy [and] jealousy and other … sin grow out of their fundamental insecurity.” (Dynamics of Spiritual Life, pages 211-212)
Timothy J. Keller (Galatians For You (God's Word For You))
So he's right?" Sophia said. "From what I've read, yes. That was known back when you were...Never mind...Just...Technically he is right. Over." "Ick," Sophia said. "I just...Maybe calling you wasn't the best choice, Da. Over." "I'm glad you did. We never get to talk. But, I've got to get this straight. This Walker guy thinks she got pregnant from involuntary emissions on the damp bottom of a lifeboat? Over." "Yes," Sophia said. "She's...virgo intacta. And they're both...Like Olga said, only virgins could be that incoherent about it. Over." "You're not particularly incoherent about it, over." "You've been talking to us about it since we were kids in one way or another," Sophia said. "And let's just say this cruise has been a real eye-opener." "I'd say sorry but I didn't start the Plague. Okay, Walker. What's his medical background, over?" "I'm not sure," Sophia said. "He said he took a course once that included advanced midwifery. I'm not even sure what that means except it has to do with delivering babies." "God knows we're going to need it. Okay, I'm going to get the CDC to call you and see if they can confirm what you've said. I'm also going to pass this around in the official news bulletin. Over." "Uh, isn't this a little private, Da?" Sophia asked. "Well, it's that or every little old lady on the Boadicea will be beating him with their canes. Squadron, out.
John Ringo (Islands of Rage & Hope (Black Tide Rising, #3))
Las Vegas is the most extreme and allegorical of American settlements, bizarre and beautiful in its venality and in its devotion to immediate gratification, a place the tone of which is set by mobsters and call girls and ladies’ room attendants with amyl nitrite poppers in their uniform pockets. Almost everyone notes that there is no “time” in Las Vegas, no night and no day and no past and no future (no Las Vegas casino, however, has taken the obliteration of the ordinary time sense quite so far as Harold’s Club in Reno, which for a while issued, at odd intervals in the day and night, mimeographed “bulletins” carrying news from the world outside); neither is there any logical sense of where one is. One is standing on a highway in the middle of a vast hostile desert looking at an eighty-foot sign which blinks ”stardust” or “caesar’s palace.” Yes, but what does that explain? This geographical implausibility reinforces the sense that what happens there has no connection with “real” life; Nevada cities like Reno and Carson are ranch towns, Western towns, places behind which there is some historical imperative. But Las Vegas seems to exist only in the eye of the beholder. All of which makes it an extraordinarily stimulating and interesting place, but an odd one in which to want to wear a candlelight satin Priscilla of Boston wedding dress with Chantilly lace insets, tapered sleeves and a detachable modified train.
Joan Didion (Slouching Towards Bethlehem: Essays)
There are two kinds of teachers in the world: there are teachers who play school and teachers who teach school, and Miss Daggerty and Mrs. Sera and especially Mrs. Gosk are the kinds of teachers that teach school. They talk to their kids in their regular voices and say things that they would say in their own living rooms. Their bulletin boards are always a little raggedy, and their desks are always a little messy, and their libraries are always a little out of order, but kids love them because they talk about real things with real voices and they always tell the truth. This is why Max loves Mrs. Gosk. She never pretends to be a teacher. She is just herself, and it makes Max relax a little. There is nothing to figure out.
Matthew Dicks (Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend)
Dost thou renounce Satan, and all his Angels, and all his works, and all his services, and all his pride?" ... The first act of the Christian life is a renunciation, a challenge. No one can be Christ's until he has, first, faced evil, and then become ready to fight it. How far is this spirit from the way in which we often proclaim, or to use a more modern term, "sell" Christianity today! ... How could we then speak of "fight" when the very set-up of our churches must, by definition, convey the idea of softness, comfort, peace? ... One does not see very well where and how "fight" would fit into the weekly bulletin of a suburban parish, among all kings of counseling sessions, bake sales, and "young adult" get-togethers. ... "Dost thou unite thyself unto Christ?
Alexander Schmemann (For the Life of the World: Sacraments and Orthodoxy)
the streets. So now everyone is afraid of it. Petr GINZ Today it’s clear to everyone who is a Jew and who’s an Aryan, because you’ll know Jews near and far by their black and yellow star. And Jews who are so demarcated must live according to the rules dictated: Always, after eight o’clock, be at home and click the lock; work only labouring with pick or hoe, and do not listen to the radio. You’re not allowed to own a mutt; barbers can’t give your hair a cut; a female Jew who once was rich can’t have a dog, even a bitch, she cannot send her kids to school must shop from three to five since that’s the rule. She can’t have bracelets, garlic, wine, or go to the theatre, out to dine; she can’t have cars or a gramophone, fur coats or skis or a telephone; she can’t eat onions, pork, or cheese, have instruments, or matrices; she cannot own a clarinet or keep a canary for a pet, rent bicycles or barometers, have woollen socks or warm sweaters. And especially the outcast Jew must give up all habits he knew: he can’t buy clothes, can’t buy a shoe, since dressing well is not his due; he can’t have poultry, shaving soap, or jam or anything to smoke; can’t get a license, buy some gin, read magazines, a news bulletin, buy sweets or a machine to sew; to fields or shops he cannot go even to buy a single pair of winter woollen underwear, or a sardine or a ripe pear. And if this list is not complete there’s more, so you should be discreet; don’t buy a thing; accept defeat. Walk everywhere you want to go in rain or sleet or hail or snow. Don’t leave your house, don’t push a pram, don’t take a bus or train or tram; you’re not allowed on a fast train; don’t hail a taxi, or complain; no matter how thirsty you are you must not enter any bar; the riverbank is not for you, or a museum or park or zoo or swimming pool or stadium or post office or department store, or church, casino, or cathedral or any public urinal. And you be careful not to use main streets, and keep off avenues! And if you want to breathe some air go to God’s garden and walk there among the graves in the cemetery because no park to you is free. And if you are a clever Jew you’ll close off bank accounts and you will give up other habits too like meeting Aryans you knew. He used to be allowed a swag, suitcase, rucksack, or carpetbag. Now he has lost even those rights but every Jew lowers his sights and follows all the rules he’s got and doesn’t care one little jot.
Petr Ginz (The Diary of Petr Ginz)
Church is important to most folks in the South. So the most important thing going is basically ruled by men as decreed by the Big Man himself. Not only that, but the church puts pressures on women that it does not put on men. Young women are expected to be chaste, moral, and pure, whereas young men are given way more leeway, ’cause, ya know, boys will be boys. Girls are expected to marry young and have kids, be a helpmate to their husbands (who are basically like having another child), and, of course, raise perfect little Christian babies to make this world a better place. So while it’s the preacher man who controls the church, it’s the women—those helpmates—who keep that shit going. They keep the pews tidy and wash the windows; type up the bulletins; volunteer for Sunday school, the nursery, youth group, and Vacation Bible School; fry the chicken for the postchurch dinners; organize the monthly potluck dinners, the spaghetti supper to raise money for a new roof, and the church fund drive; plant flowers in the front of the church, make food for sick parishioners, serve food after funerals, put together the Christmas pageant, get Easter lilies for Easter, wash the choir robes, organize the church trip, bake cookies for the bake sale to fund the church trip, pray unceasingly for their husband and their pastor and their kids and never complain, and then make sure their skirts are ironed for Sunday mornin’ service. All this while in most churches not being allowed to speak with any authority on the direction or doctrine of the church. No, no, ladies, the heavy lifting—thinkin’ up shit to say, standing up at the lectern telling people what to do, counting the money—that ain’t for yuns. So sorry.
Trae Crowder (The Liberal Redneck Manifesto: Draggin' Dixie Outta the Dark)
Clergymen responded enthusiastically. Many ministers wrote the Los Angeles office to request copies of Friedrich Hayek’s libertarian treatise The Road to Serfdom and anti–New Deal tracts by Herbert Hoover and libertarian author Garet Garrett, all of which had been advertised in Spiritual Mobilization. Some sought reprints of the bulletin itself. “I found your last issue of Spiritual Mobilization excellent,” a Connecticut clergyman reported. “Could you send me 100 copies to distribute to key people in my parish? I am quite anxious to get my people thinking along this line.” Others took more indirect routes in spreading the organization’s message. “Occasionally I preach a sermon directly on your theme,” a midwestern minister wrote, “but equally important, it is in the background of my thought as I prepare all my sermons, meet various groups and individuals.
Kevin M. Kruse (One Nation Under God: How Corporate America Invented Christian America)
One of my favorite stories is about a newly hired traveling salesman who sent his first sales report to the home office. It stunned the brass in the sales department because it was obvious that the new salesman was ignorant! This is what he wrote: “I seen this outfit which they ain’t never bot a dim’s worth of nothin from us and I sole them some goods. I’m now goin to Chicawgo.” Before the man could be given the heave-ho by the sales manager, along came this letter from Chicago: “I cum hear and sole them haff a millyon.” Fearful if he did, and afraid if he didn’t fire the ignorant salesman, the sales manager dumped the problem in the lap of the president. The following morning, the ivory-towered sales department members were amazed to see posted on the bulletin board above the two letters written by the ignorant salesman this memo from the president: “We ben spendin two much time trying to spel instead of trying to sel. Let’s watch those sails. I want everybody should read these letters from Gooch who is on the rode doin a grate job for us and you should go out and do like he done.
John C. Maxwell (Developing the Leader Within You)
you see, I’m just an old man. Tryin’ hard, do what I can!” Yeah, yeah. Snatches of 80’s tunes. Men at Work, I think. What a buggered up name for a band. Good tunes, though. If I had a band (which I don’t), I’d call it— Well, what the devil was that lyric going through my head for? Those old Takion videos from last night. Distribu-channel. I’d have to stop watching ‘Blasts from the Past’ and ‘Fun on the Farm’. Bad for the brain—whatever was left. It didn’t matter. It was 2019, for Pete’s sake, and I was practically done in. SPECIAL BULLETIN! KK Bottoms down-and-out, OLDish man, 48 going on 70, has one mental lapse with mid life crisis. Isn’t Mr. Bottoms a scream when he gets plastered and shit-faced? No?  Come on, give him some credit. You wonder what this has to do with any science or lenses, well, it starts like— I’d been much in love. My last wife had left me high and dry, like a kite—literally left me, without a dime. True, I missed her sexy ass and her husky laugh—but what of that? Easy come, easy go. You have one, you lose one. Bunny, bunny, run down the hill, and take a pill. Ah, there I was wandering off again. It was a nasty habit, a reckless disease. Too much rum and tequila, and assorted pills, mixed in unhealthy ratios.  I could go on, list all the crap clichés. But I won’t. The sudden, jarring, heart-bottoming memory of Elija. Oh, but could she put out when she wanted!—and I, the boozer loser, didn’t even know what
Chris Turner (A Simple Lens)
Great are the works of the Lord; they are pondered by all who delight in them. —Psalm 111:2 (NIV) The church I attend recently celebrated its 150th anniversary. It’s been a festive year, replete with special dinners, panel discussions, and a book on the church’s history. But what amazed me even more were all the little stories that formed the big story—those quiet, individual witnesses of faith who, taken together, made up this grand sweep of 150 years. One woman has been a member for nearly half the church’s life. Fifty-two Sundays times seven decades is how many church services? “You’ve heard thousands of sermons!” I said. “What do you remember about the best ones?” She smiled. “The best sermons are the ones I think about all week. Because then I know God is working in me.” That simple lesson of faith was the start of a new practice for me. When I hear a phrase or sentence in a sermon that especially strikes me, I’ll write it down on the bulletin or on whatever I have handy. (Once it was the palm of my hand!) Then I pin that phrase to the bulletin board behind my computer. This week’s was: May God give me the grace to understand that the world is too small for anything but Love. I see it every day, reminding me to ponder how I might live that message. Like my friend at church, I’ve been able to see in a new way how God is working in my life—all week long. Guide my life, God, by Your Words; that in hearing them, I may live according to Your wishes. —Jeff Japinga Digging Deeper: Pss 105, 111, 119:18; 1 Pt 2:2
Guideposts (Daily Guideposts 2014)
I remember clearly the deaths of three men. One was the richest man of the century, who, having clawed his way to wealth through the souls and bodies of men, spent many years trying to buy back the love he had forfeited and by that process performed great services to the world and, perhaps, had much more than balanced the evils of his rise. I was on a ship when he died. The news was posted on the bulletin board, and nearly everyone received the news with pleasure. Several said, "Thank God that son of a bitch is dead." Then there was a man, smart as Satan, who, lacking some perception of human dignity and knowing all too well every aspect of human weakness and wickedness, used his special knowledge to warp men, to buy men, to bribe and threaten and seduce until he found himself in a position of great power. He clothed his motives in the names of virtue, and I have wondered whether he ever knew that no gift will ever buy back a man's love when you have removed his self-love. A bribed man can only hate his briber. When this man died the nation rang with praise and, just beneath, with gladness that he was dead. There was a third man, who perhaps made many errors in performance but whose effective life was devoted to making men brave and dignified and good in a time when they were poor and frightened and when ugly forces were loose in the world to utilize their fears. This man was hated by the few. When he died the people burst into tears in the streets and their minds wailed, "What can we do now? How can we go on without him?
John Steinbeck (East of Eden)
ED ABBEY’S FBI file was a thick one, and makes for engrossing reading. The file begins in 1947, when Abbey, just twenty and freshly back from serving in the Army in Europe, posts a typewritten notice on the bulletin board at the State Teachers College in Pennsylvania. The note urges young men to send their draft cards to the president in protest of peacetime conscription, exhorting them to “emancipate themselves.” It is at that point that Abbey becomes “the subject of a Communist index card” at the FBI, and from then until the end of his life the Bureau will keep track of where Abbey is residing, following his many moves. They will note when he heads west and, as acting editor of the University of New Mexico’s literary magazine, The Thunderbird, decides to print an issue with a cover emblazoned with the words: “Man will never be free until the last king is strangled with the entrails of the last priest!” The quote is from Diderot, but Abbey thinks it funnier to attribute the words to Louisa May Alcott. And so he quickly loses his editorship while the FBI adds a few more pages to his file. The Bureau will become particularly intrigued when Mr. Abbey attends an international conference in defense of children in Vienna, Austria, since the conference, according to the FBI, was “initiated by Communists in 1952.” Also quoted in full in his files is a letter to the editor that he sends to the New Mexico Daily Lobo, in which he writes: “In this day of the cold war, which everyday [sic] shows signs of becoming warmer, the individual who finds himself opposed to war is apt to feel very much out of step with his fellow citizens” and then announces the need to form a group to “discuss implications and possibilities of resistance to war.
David Gessner (All The Wild That Remains: Edward Abbey, Wallace Stegner, and the American West)
IN JANUARY 1959 Police Chief Herbert Jenkins found a poem tacked to a bulletin board at his departmental headquarters. Tellingly, the anonymous author had titled it “The Plan of Improvement,” in sarcastic tribute to Mayor Hartsfield’s 1952 program for the city’s expansion and economic progress. The poem looked back over a decade of racial change and spoke volumes about the rising tide of white resentment. It began with a brief review of the origins of residential transition and quickly linked the desegregation of working-class neighborhoods to the desegregation of the public spaces surrounding them: Look my children and you shall see, The Plan of Improvement by William B. On a great civic venture we’re about to embark And we’ll start this one off at old Mozeley Park. White folks won’t mind losing homes they hold dear; (If it doesn’t take place on an election year) Before they have time to get over the shock, We’ll have that whole section—every square block. I’ll try something different for plan number two This time the city’s golf courses will do. They’ll mix in the Club House and then on the green I might get a write up in Life Magazine. And now comes the schools for plan number three To mix them in classrooms just fills me with glee; For I have a Grandson who someday I pray Will thank me for sending this culture his way. And for my finale, to do it up right, The buses, theatres and night spots so bright; Pools and restaurants will be mixed up at last And my Plan of Improvement will be going full blast. The sarcasm in the poem is unmistakable, of course, but so are the ways in which the author—either a policeman himself or a friend of one—clearly linked the city’s pursuit of “progress” with a litany of white losses. In the mind of the author, and countless other white Atlantans like him, the politics of progress was a zero-sum game in which every advance for civil rights meant an equal loss for whites.
Kevin M. Kruse (White Flight: Atlanta and the Making of Modern Conservatism)
Have no anxiety about anything,' Paul writes to the Philippians. In one sense it is like telling a woman with a bad head cold not to sniffle and sneeze so much or a lame man to stop dragging his feet. Or maybe it is more like telling a wino to lay off the booze or a compulsive gambler to stay away from the track. Is anxiety a disease or an addiction? Perhaps it is something of both. Partly, perhaps, because you can't help it, and partly because for some dark reason you choose not to help it, you torment yourself with detailed visions of the worst that can possibly happen. The nagging headache turns out to be a malignant brain tumor. When your teenage son fails to get off the plane you've gone to meet, you see his picture being tacked up in the post office among the missing and his disappearance never accounted for. As the latest mid-East crisis boils, you wait for the TV game show to be interrupted by a special bulletin to the effect that major cities all over the country are being evacuated in anticipation of a nuclear attack. If Woody Allen were to play your part on the screen, you would roll in the aisles with the rest of them, but you're not so much as cracking a smile at the screen inside your own head. Does the terrible fear of disaster conceal an even more terrible hankering for it? Do the accelerated pulse and the knot in the stomach mean that, beneath whatever their immediate cause, you are acting out some ancient and unresolved drama of childhood? Since the worst things that happen are apt to be the things you don't see coming, do you think there is a kind of magic whereby, if you only can see them coming, you will be able somehow to prevent them from happening? Who knows the answer? In addition to Novocain and indoor plumbing, one of the few advantages of living in the twentieth century is the existence of psychotherapists, and if you can locate a good one, maybe one day you will manage to dig up an answer that helps. But answer or no answer, the worst things will happen at last even so. 'All life is suffering' says the first and truest of the Buddha's Four Noble Truths, by which he means that sorrow, loss, death await us all and everybody we love. Yet "the Lord is at hand. Have no anxiety about anything," Paul writes, who was evidently in prison at the time and with good reason to be anxious about everything, 'but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.' He does not deny that the worst things will happen finally to all of us, as indeed he must have had a strong suspicion they were soon to happen to him. He does not try to minimize them. He does not try to explain them away as God's will or God's judgment or God's method of testing our spiritual fiber. He simply tells the Philippians that in spite of them—even in the thick of them—they are to keep in constant touch with the One who unimaginably transcends the worst things as he also unimaginably transcends the best. 'In everything,' Paul says, they are to keep on praying. Come Hell or high water, they are to keep on asking, keep on thanking, above all keep on making themselves known. He does not promise them that as a result they will be delivered from the worst things any more than Jesus himself was delivered from them. What he promises them instead is that 'the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.' The worst things will surely happen no matter what—that is to be understood—but beyond all our power to understand, he writes, we will have peace both in heart and in mind. We are as sure to be in trouble as the sparks fly upward, but we will also be "in Christ," as he puts it. Ultimately not even sorrow, loss, death can get at us there. That is the sense in which he dares say without risk of occasioning ironic laughter, "Have no anxiety about anything." Or, as he puts it a few lines earlier, 'Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say, Rejoice!
Frederick Buechner
parked, dominated the rest of the street. There was an understated sign over the door that read ALBANIAN CENTER in English, below which were some words in another language, which Lydia brilliantly deduced to be Albanian. Next to the door was a bulletin board behind a glass case containing a picture of Valentina, the date and the time of the service, and a few paragraphs in Albanian. It seemed like a meager memorial for a life to Lydia, who thought, You live a hurricane of emotions, dreams, experiences, hardships; you raise children. Your life seems so important, your problems so consuming, your successes so thrilling. And in the end, your picture winds up on a bulletin board, your life reduced to a snapshot and some kind words on a piece of paper.
Lisa Miscione (The Darkness Gathers)
World Climate Review: “The fact is that the artifice of climate-change-as-apocalypse is crumbling faster than Cuba…. There is genuine fear in the environmental community about this one, for the decline and fall of such a prominent issue is sure to horribly maim the credibility of the green movement that espoused it so cheerily.” This is not the language of science, such as one finds in Science, Nature, or The Bulletin of the American Meteorological Society. It is the language of propaganda.
Bill McKibben (The Global Warming Reader: A Century of Writing about Climate Change)
Write the words "The FIve Senses" on an index card and tack it to a bulletin board above your desk. You should have a bulletin board above your desk, if at all possible. Some place where you can tack images, quotes, postcards, scraps of thoughts and ideas that will help remind you of you you are and what you're doing.
Dani Shapiro (Still Writing: The Perils and Pleasures of a Creative Life)
By 10:00 P.M. it decided to pull out all the stops: DEWEY DEFEATS TRUMAN. An early election-eve edition of the San Francisco Call-Bulletin carried a cartoon depicting a jubilant elephant and a doleful donkey. Only in the next edition was there a fast retouch: the elephant was now startled, the donkey joyous.62
James T. Patterson (Grand Expectations: The United States, 1945-1974 (Oxford History of the United States Book 10))
II L'Association bretonne. Il est une institution qui distingue la Bretagne des autres provinces et où se réflète son génie, l'Association bretonne. Dans ce pays couvert encore de landes et de terres incultes, et où il reste tant de ruines des anciens âges, des hommes intelligents ont compris que ces deux intérêts ne devaient pas être séparés, les progrès de l'agriculture et l'étude des monuments de l'histoire locale. Les comices agricoles ne s'occupent que des travaux d'agriculture, les sociétés savantes que de l'esprit; l'Association bretonne les a réunis: elle est à la fois une association agricole et une association littéraire. Aux expériences de l'agriculture, aux recherches archéologiques, elle donne de la suite et de l'unité; les efforts ne sont plus isolés, ils se font avec ensemble; l'Association bretonne continue, au XIXe siècle, l'oeuvre des moines des premiers temps du christianisme dans la Gaule, qui défrichaient le sol et éclairaient les âmes. Un appel a été fait dans les cinq départements de la Bretagne à tous ceux qui avaient à coeur les intérêts de leur patrie, aux écrivains et aux propriétaires, aux gentilshommes et aux simples paysans, et les adhésions sont arrivées de toutes parts. L'Association a deux moyens d'action: un bulletin mensuel, et un congrès annuel. Le bulletin rend compte des travaux des associés, des expériences, des essais, des découvertes scientifiques; le congrès ouvre des concours, tient des séances publiques, distribue des prix et des récompenses. Afin de faciliter les réunions et d'en faire profiter tout le pays, le congrès se tient alternativement dans chaque département; une année à Rennes, une autre à Saint-Brieuc, une autre fois à Vitré ou à Redon; en 1858, il s'est réuni à Quimper. A chaque congrès, des questions nouvelles sont agitées, discutées, éclaircies[1]: ces savants modestes qui consacrent leurs veilles à des recherches longues et pénibles, sont assurés que leurs travaux ne seront pas ignorés; tant d'intelligences vives et distinguées, qui demeureraient oisives dans le calme des petites villes, voient devant elles un but à leurs efforts; la publicité en est assurée, ils seront connus et appréciés. D'un bout de la province à l'autre, de Rennes à Brest, de Nantes à Saint-Malo, on se communique ses oeuvres et ses plans; tel antiquaire, à Saint-Brieuc, s'occupe des mêmes recherches qu'un autre à Quimper: il est un jour dans l'année où ils se retrouvent, où se resserrent les liens d'études et d'amitié. [Note 1: Voir l'Appendice.] Le congrès est un centre moral et intellectuel, bien plus, un centre national: ces congrès sont de véritables assises bretonnes; ils remplacent les anciens États: on y voit réunis, comme aux États, les trois ordres, le clergé, la noblesse et le tiers-état, le tiers-état plus nombreux qu'avant la Révolution, et de plus, mêlés aux nobles et aux bourgeois, les paysans. La Bretagne est une des provinces de France où les propriétaires vivent le plus sur leurs terres; beaucoup y passent l'année tout entière. De là une communauté d'habitudes, un échange de services, des relations plus familières et plus intimes, qui n'ôtent rien au respect d'une part, à la dignité de l'autre. Propriétaires et fermiers, réunis au congrès, sont soumis aux mêmes conditions et jugés par les mêmes lois; souvent le propriétaire concourt avec son fermier. Dans ces mêlées animées, où l'on se communique ses procédés, où l'on s'aide de ses conseils, où l'on distribue des prix et des encouragements, les riches propriétaires et les nobles traitent les paysans sur le pied de l'égalité; ici, la supériorité est au plus habile: c'est un paysan, Guévenoux, qui, en 1857, eut les honneurs du congrès de Redon. Voici quatorze ans que l'Association bretonne existe; l'ardeur a toujours été en croissant; les congrès sont devenus des solennités: on y vient de tous les points
Anonymous
The Morning Advertiser gave regular bulletins about missing children after the arrests of Bishop, Williams and May: Caroline Brand, eight, of Wolverley Street, Hackney Road, sent out by her parents to sell bundles of firewood one evening, and not seen again, just as her thirteen-year-old brother had disappeared, five months before; and Henry Borroff, a five-year-old of Hoxton Old Town — gone.
Sarah Wise (The Italian Boy: A Tale of Murder and Body Snatching in 1830s London)
Here’s a secret intel bulletin for all y’all who’ve never left Yoknapatawpha County and imagine the United States is constantly on the precipice of enemy invasion—the only way this country is ever going to surrender its liberty to a foreign power is if it keeps electing corrupt officials who auction it away to multinational corporations and overseas government interests in exactly the fashion that southern star chambers have been doing to their own people throughout their entire dyspeptic history.
Chuck Thompson (Better Off Without 'Em: A Northern Manifesto for Southern Secession)
You best back up before you get smacked up! And I put you on the bulletin board and you get tacked up!
Susane Colasanti (Take Me There)
Who buffs the floors? Who picks up the bulletins as you leave them in a mess here on a Sunday evening? Who makes sure the place is heated and cooled, that the doors are locked? Who is it that ensures that you walk across the road here in safety on a Sunday evening?
Anonymous
Well, I have been to heaven… It was complete with gates, angels and plaster saints – and electronic implantation equipment.’ (L. Ron Hubbard, HCO Bulletin 11 May 1963)
Russell Miller (Bare-Faced Messiah: The classic exposé of the extraordinary true life of L. Ron Hubbard, founder of Scientology)
There's an old Army officer tradition. When you leave a post, you write 'ppc' on the back of your business card and pin it to the officers' club bulletin board or similar public place. 'Ppc' is an acronym for a French term pour prendre conge, in English, 'to take leave.' It was our final departing courtesy
Tony Koltz (It Worked for Me: In Life and Leadership)
My bulletin board looks ransacked because I pulled off every photo of or by Jordi. It's strange how in just a couple months, one person can become so much of your world.
Amy Spalding (The Summer of Jordi Pérez (and the Best Burger in Los Ángeles))
In the ’40s he took up the drumbeat against the Red menace. “Nothing is more important to him today than warning against the peril of an attack by Russia,” wrote William Tusher in 1948. His admiration for Roosevelt did not extend to Harry Truman, and he became a staunch supporter of Red-hunting Sen. Joseph McCarthy. The sphere of his influence now included “Mr. and Mrs. North and South America,” and his bulletins were still punctuated by furious bursts of telegraph activity.
John Dunning (On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio)
Athletes whose sport involves running put enormous strain on their legs.” That’s what the Sports Injury Bulletin has declared. “Each footfall hits one of their legs with a force equal to more than twice their body weight. Just as repeated hammering on an apparently impenetrable rock will eventually reduce the stone to dust, the impact loads associated with running can ultimately break down your bones, cartilage, muscles, tendons, and ligaments.” A report by the American Association of Orthopedic Surgeons concluded that distance running is “an outrageous threat to the integrity of the knee.” And instead of “impenetrable rock,” that outrage is banging down on one of the most sensitive points in your body.
Christopher McDougall (Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen)
I wrote you a note,” she began, and if he thought he’d felt tension before, he wasn’t too sure he wasn’t about to lose his breakfast after that little announcement. “I didn’t know if your phone worked here, and even if it does, I don’t have the number. Same goes for e-mail. I could have left a message at the inn, but then I might as well have posted it on the bulletin board outside the town hall for the whole world to read.” She lifted a shoulder. “So I thought I’d take a page from your book--a very charming one, I might add,” she said, glancing up at him from the corner of her eye. “But the doors to your car were locked, and I didn’t put it under your windshield wiper for the same reason I didn’t leave a message with Grace.” She let out a little breath. “But I did write you a note. I just wanted to go on record. Because I know what I did with Sadie, and you’re probably thinking--” “I’m thinking that unless you’re about to tell me to bugger off back to Australia and never darken your door again, I’m about to be all those things I promised not to be and kiss you senseless right here on the dock, in front of God, the seagulls, and anyone else who happens to be watching, and damn the consequences.
Donna Kauffman (Starfish Moon (Brides of Blueberry Cove, #3))
Joe Public never took long to move to the next news sensation. Downed airliners, earthquakes in China, tsunamis killing tens of thousands, or myriad of disasters that trotted across the news bulletins regularly, all of them were always replaced by the next big headline. “Are
Susan May (Thriller Suspense Horror Box Set)
I drifted over to the bulletin board and read '"Don't think there are no crocodiles just because the water is calm" - Malayan Proverb.' Just beside that was, "' If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the results of a hundred battles," - Sun Tzu." It made me a little sad. In the good old days, Rachel would have had a bunch of quotes about being a good person or whatever. It just showed how much our lives had changed. In a very short time we had all grown accustomed to a world of fear and danger. We had arrived at Rachel's house separately. We had each checked to make sure we weren't being followed. We had planed the afternoon in advance to be sure that Rachel's mom and her two sisters would be out. We had even had Tobias fly over the area looking for anything unusual. That's what our lives had become. That and quotations full of paranoia and battle. -Animorphs #4, The Message page 10
K.A. Applegate
You look beautiful.” “Thank you.” “You’re tan.” “Did you come all this way to discuss my tan?” He laughs, surprising me. “That’s right, you’re sassy.” “Every day.” “I didn’t come here to talk about your tan. I came here to find out why the woman I’m in love with left my bed in the middle of the night and disappeared.” “I have no idea. Did you put out a missing persons bulletin?” “Now you’re being difficult,” he says and rubs his hand over his mouth.
Kristen Proby
But she never quite saw the fighting for votes and the fighting for sales in the same way. Perhaps that was because it cut them down to size, she thought. It was easy when there were a dozen or so together at a Branch meeting to rebuild the world, march at the vanguard of socialism and talk of the inevitability of history. But afterwards she’d go out into the streets with an armful of Daily Worker’s, often waiting an hour, two hours, to sell a copy. Sometimes she’d cheat, as the others cheated, and pay for a dozen herself just to get out of it and go home. At the next meeting they’d boast about it—forgetting they’d bought them themselves—”Comrade Gold sold eighteen copies on Saturday night—eighteen!” It would go in the Minutes then, and the Branch bulletin as well. District would rub their hands, and perhaps she’d get a mention in that little panel on the front page about the Fighting Fund. It was such a little world, and she wished they could be more honest. But she lied to herself about it all, too. Perhaps they all did. Or perhaps the others understood more why you had to lie so much.
John le Carré (The Spy Who Came In from the Cold)
Es sabido desde hace mucho tiempo que si se produjera un primer ataque de una gran potencia, incluso si ninguna otra respondiera, probablemente destruiría la civilización por las consecuencias del invierno nuclear que provocaría. Hay información sobre este asunto en el Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, así que es bien conocido. El peligro siempre ha sido mucho más grave de lo que pensábamos
Noam Chomsky (¿Quién domina el mundo?)
Everybody knows that England is the world of betting men, who are of a higher class than mere gamblers; to bet is in the English temperament. Not only the members of the Reform, but the general public, made heavy wagers for or against Phileas Fogg, who was set down in the betting books as if he were a race-horse. Bonds were issued, and made their appearance on ‘Change; “Phileas Fogg bonds” were offered at par or at a premium, and a great business was done in them. But five days after the article in the bulletin of the Geographical Society appeared, the demand began to subside: “Phileas Fogg” declined. They were offered by packages, at first of five, then of ten, until at last nobody would take less than twenty, fifty, a hundred!
Jules Verne (Jules Verne: The Extraordinary Voyages Collection [newly updated] (The Greatest Writers of All Time))
every clanging ambulance bell, in every scar on the faces of the pimps and their whores, in every helpless, newborn baby being brought into this danger, in every knife and pistol fight on the Avenue, and in every disastrous bulletin: a cousin, mother of six, suddenly gone mad, the children parcelled out here and there; an indestructible aunt rewarded for years of hard labor by a slow, agonizing death in a terrible small room; someone’s bright son blown into eternity by his own hand; another turned robber and carried off to jail. It was a summer of dreadful speculations and discoveries, of which these were not the worst.
James Baldwin (The Fire Next Time)
Mary tuned in the wireless and heard a news bulletin on RadioToadReading informing everyone exactly why they should be panicking and what form this panicking should take.
Jasper Fforde (The Fourth Bear (Nursery Crime, #2))
programs are scheduled interruptions of marketing bulletins.
Tim Wu (The Attention Merchants: The Epic Scramble to Get Inside Our Heads)
It’s been said that from the moment of the Stockholm awards ceremony, she wore a Nobel Prize charm around her neck (given to her by her husband) and signed every piece of correspondence “Rosalyn Yalow, PhD, Nobel Laureate.” It’s also been said that Yalow tacked a sign on the bulletin board in her laboratory saying, “To be considered half as good as a man, a woman must work twice as hard and be twice as good.” That’s a common feminist maxim. But Yalow added the punch line: “Fortunately, that is not difficult.” Her children dismissed the jewelry/signature talk as the typical bluster of male colleagues. But they remember the sign well.
Randi Hutter Epstein (Aroused: The History of Hormones and How They Control Just About Everything)
At 11.25 a.m. on 16 July 2016, Adil Nizami, a twenty-five-year-old rookie reporter from Multan, broke the biggest story of his career. ‘Famous model Qandeel Baloch has been killed,’ he blurted out in a live call that interrupted 24 News’ regular morning bulletin.
Sanam Maher (The Sensational Life and Death of Qandeel Baloch)
Welles wanted a spook show, deciding against better judgments to dust off the 40-year-old H. G. Wells fantasy The War of the Worlds and air it Oct. 30. The dissenting voices were afraid that the story would be hopelessly dated, and dull on the air. But Koch had his assignment, and the date was six days away. Welles laid out some general guidelines: he wanted the story told in a series of news bulletins, with cutaways to first-person narrative. As Koch read the original work, a sense of despair set in. H. G. Wells had set his tale in England, and his writing style was long past its prime. This was no simple cutting job: as Koch would recall in his memoir, “I realized I could use very little but the author’s idea of a Martian invasion and his descriptions of their appearance and machines. In short, I was being asked to write an almost entirely original play in six days.
John Dunning (On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio)
They were sometimes closer to truth than the government wanted radio to be. Anticipating an invasion of Sicily, Robson sent writer Allan Sloane to Massachusetts, where engineers were being trained in the art of beachhead landings. “I knew they were gonna go in someplace,” he said, “and there had to be beachfront landings. So we knew ahead of time all the techniques that were being taught, and we just dramatized a textbook landing.” The news bulletins came on a Friday evening, Robson remembered. “I called Allan and asked how the script was going. He said he was nearly finished. I said, ‘You’d better be finished, because we’re goin’ with it on Sunday.
John Dunning (On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio)
But there is another possibility, yet more frightening. Of the world’s megacities, Mumbai is one of the few that has a nuclear facility within its urban limits: the Bhabha Atomic Research Centre at Trombay. To the north, at Tarapur, 94 kilometres from the city’s periphery, lies another nuclear facility. Both these plants sit right upon the shoreline, as do many other nuclear installations around the world: these locations were chosen in order to give them easy access to water. With climate change many nuclear plants around the world are now threatened by rising seas. An article in the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists notes: ‘During massive storms . . . there is a greatly increased chance of the loss of power at a nuclear power plant, which significantly contributes to safety risks.’ Essential cooling systems could fail; safety systems could be damaged; contaminants could seep into the plant and radioactive water could leak out, as happened at the Fukushima Daiichi plant.
Amitav Ghosh (The Great Derangement: Climate Change and the Unthinkable)
It was a stunning blow to learn that there was no warrant for my arrest, much less an international all-points bulletin. I had lived for years like a hunted animal, while no one at all was looking for me, not even back home. That’s injustice for you.
Massimo Carlotto (Il fuggiasco)
Somehow I missed the news bulletin about the suburban moms who lure other suburban moms into their homes, dope them with tainted coffee, and then steal their internal organs to sell on the black market.
Jen Mann (People I Want to Punch in the Throat: True(ish) Tales of an Overachieving Underachiever)
Very early on, the Hungryalists had announced, rather brashly, their lack of faith and what they thought of god. To them religion was an utter waste of time, and they made no bones about this. In fact, in one of their bulletins, they had openly denounced god and called organized religion nonsense. Many of the Hungryalists, with their sharp knowledge of Hindu scriptures, had been challenging temple elders on the different rituals and modes of worship. This came as a shock to many, in a country where religion was very much a part of everyday life—a matter of pride and culture even. On the other hand, Ginsberg was evidently quite taken with religion in India and sought out sadhus and holy men wherever he went in the country. While this might have been because he was in search of a guru, he seemed to be fascinated, in equal measure, by the sheer variety that religion opened for him in India—from Kali worship to Buddhism. But like the Beats, the Hungryalists came together in denouncing the politics of war, which merged with their larger world view.
Maitreyee Bhattacharjee Chowdhury (The Hungryalists)
Those experiences had a profound impact on how Zane viewed his fellow human beings. They weren’t just a picture in the church bulletin—they were real, living, breathing human beings, each made in the image of their Creator. Another point his parents had often reminded him of was that he should not be giving out of some sense of guilt for his better circumstances, but out of love. It had taken him many years to understand the difference between the two.
William Struse (The 13th Enumeration)
But, deep in her heart she knew more than what the words read or heard seemed to say. She knew that every letter in every word in every war bulletin was, somewhere, first written in blood of men, of human beings, who had once smiled and sung songs, eaten, drunk, slept and loved.
Kate Seredy
Testing is weird. The whole school feels different . . . . . especially our classroom. It’s usually so colorful. Now the walls are bare! “What happened to this place?” Jimmy Russell asks. “A sneak attack from the bulletin board bandit?” Mrs. Holt shakes her head. “State testing rules mandate that our room can’t have anything displaying words or numbers on the walls while testing is taking place.” “Why?” Brandi asks. “Are they afraid you’re going to post the answers on the walls?” Mrs. Holt gives her a weak smile and says, “Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to test and try.
Paula Danziger (Amber Brown Is on the Move)
The next day I ask Mr. Frank about extra help, and he points disinterestedly to the student tutoring sign-up sheet tacked to the bulletin board.
Danielle Pearl (Something More: Normal / ReCap / Okay)
Of course, there was no reason she should update me. She was not her Dexter’s keeper, and if she was finally beginning to realize that, so much the better. So I was completely content, not at all miffed with my sister, when she showed up at last to claim her child. It was almost midnight when she finally arrived, and Nicholas and I had watched several more news bulletins, and then the lead story on the late news itself, all pretty much repeating that first tiresome bulletin. Heroic officer injured while catching cop killer. Ho-hum. Nicholas showed no sign of recognizing his mother when she appeared on television. I was quite certain that Lily Anne would have known me, whether on TV or anywhere else, but that did not necessarily mean there was anything actually wrong with the boy. In
Jeff Lindsay (Double Dexter (Dexter #6))
After paying Lisen what Alice owed her, I was cash poor. And the full rent for the apartment sat on my shoulders like a lead weight. I had to find a reliable roommate who would share expenses and accept that an infant lived in the place, too. I started by posting a notice on the bulletin board at the hospital. Soon after, a nurse who was interested contacted me and we met over lunch. Dot and I sat in the green-walled hospital cafeteria on slatted chairs and opened our sack lunches. A saucy brunette who wore cat-eye glasses and red lipstick along with her fashionably bobbed hair and tweezed, blackened eyebrows, Dot had been sharing an apartment with four other women and wanted more space to herself. I
Ann Howard Creel (While You Were Mine)
Well, we are now about 120 years after Darwin and the knowledge of the fossil record has been greatly expanded. We now have a quarter of a million fossil species but the situation hasn't changed much. The record of evolution is still surprisingly jerky and, ironically, we have even fewer examples of evolutionary transitions than we had in Darwin's time. By this I mean that some of the classic cases of darwinian change in the fossil record, such as the evolution of the horse in North America, have had to be discarded or modified as a result of more detailed information -- what appeared to be a nice simple progression when relatively few data were available now appear to be much more complex and much less gradualistic. So Darwin's problem has not been alleviated in the last 120 years and we still have a record which does show change but one that can hardly be looked upon as the most reasonable consequence of natural selection. [Conflicts between Darwin and Paleontology", Field Museum of Natural History Bulletin Jan. 1979, Vol. 50 No. 1 p. 22-29]
David M. Raup
A news bulletin on the radio speaks of a public ban on spitting, swearing, smoking and queue-jumping during the Olympics. The Four Pests, the campaign has been called, after the Mao-era policy to eradicate sparrows, mosquitoes, flies and rats. Wang remembers Shuxiang telling him how, during her childhood, gangs of children chased sparrows from tree to tree, banging tin trays until the birds fell out of the sky, too exhausted to beat their wings and fly.
Susan Barker (The Incarnations)
Aussi loin que je me souvienne, quand les jeunes professeurs sont découragés par une classe, ils se plaignent de n'avoir pas été formés pour ça. Le « ça » d'aujourd'hui, parfaitement réel, recouvre des domaines aussi variés que la mauvaise éducation des enfants par la famille défaillante, les dégâts culturels liés au chômage et à l'exclusion, la perte des valeurs civiques qui s'ensuit, la violence dans certains établissements, les disparités linguistiques, le retour du religieux, mais aussi la télévision, les jeux électroniques, bref tout ce qui nourrit plus ou moins le diagnostic social que nous servent chaque matin nos premiers bulletins d'information. (p. 266)
Daniel Pennac (Chagrin d'école)
Posts-澳洲文凭/毕业证办理,[微*信-283-214-072办理文凭证书],墨大文凭/毕业证办理,UM文凭/毕业证办理,墨尔本大学文凭/毕业证办理,The University of Melbourne墨尔本大学,始建于1853年,是坐落于澳大利亚墨尔本的世界顶尖研究型大学,南半球首屈一指的学术重镇 。在历年各大权威世界大学排名中,稳居世界前50,在2015QS世界大学排名中,位列世界第32位 。2015年美国世界新闻周刊USnews世界大学排名中居于世界第40,2015泰晤士times世界大学排名中位列世界第33位 。依据QS学科专业排名,墨尔本大学的优势专业学科领域囊括:法律学、医学、金融与会计、 建筑学、 工程学 、计算机科学等。 墨尔本大学位于国际化大都市墨尔本,距其市中心仅几分钟路程,这里是一个充满生机的文化、社交、体育、商业中心城市,连续六年被英国The Economist杂志评为全球最宜居的城市。墨尔本大学位于市中心北部的Parkville区。 作为澳洲八大名校的核心盟校成员之一,墨尔本大学同时也是国际研究型大学联盟组织环太平洋大学联盟(APPU)的成员之一、亚太国际贸易教育暨研究联盟(PACIBER)的成员之一和Universitas 21的创始会员和秘书处所在地。建校已来,墨尔本大学已经培养出8名诺贝尔奖得主。墨尔本大学强调学生在学术造诣与人格修养等方面的综合能力,竭力为学生塑造独特的“墨尔本经验”〔Melbourne experience〕。同时墨尔本大学也是澳大利亚八校联盟中唯一不认可中国高考成绩的大学。墨尔本大学 英文名 The University of Melbourne 简 称 墨大、Melbourne、Melb、UniMelb 创办时间 1853年 类 别 公立综合性大学 学校类型 世界顶尖综合研究型大学 属 性Group of Eight、Universitas 21、环太平洋大学联盟、亚太国际贸易教育暨研究联盟、英联邦大学协会 所属地区澳大利亚 维多利亚州 墨尔本市 现任校长 格莱恩·戴维斯 知名校友茱莉亚·吉拉德、伊丽莎白·布莱克本、罗伯特·孟席斯 主管部门 澳洲教育署、维多利亚州议会 校 训 Postera Crescam Laude(我们将在后人的敬重中成长) 主要院系墨尔本商学院、工程学院、文学院、教育学院、法学院、医学院、理学院等15大院系 主要奖项 2015 泰晤士报世界第33,澳洲第1 2016 ARWU世界第40,澳洲第1 2015 U.S.News世界第40,澳洲第1 2015 QS毕业生竞争力世界第18,澳洲第1 2015 QS雇主眼中的好大学,世界第8,澳洲第1 在校生 47000人(国际生28%) 教 员 6500人 科研经费 8.5亿澳元/年(约40.3亿人民币) 校友捐款 19.8亿澳元(约94亿人民币) 校友人数 28万(海外15%) ATAR入学要求 商科92.4%, 人文92.4%, 理工92%[1] 研究生要求 80-90(211、985),85-95(非211) 雅思入学要求 预科6.0 本科、研究生6.5-7.5 EA认证学科 11个墨尔本大学继承了欧洲学院制学府的传统,在校园内设置了十三所住宿学院(residential college,一种传统的大学住宿模式,学生在教学区上课但是生活在各自的学院区内,各学院拥有自己的院徽、传统以及社团活动)、奥蒙德学院〔Ormond College〕、圣三一学院〔Trinity College〕、大学学院〔University College〕、珍妮特·克拉克学院〔Janet Clarke Hall〕、女王学院(Queen's College)等十余家附属学院。各院散落校园北部,多为维多利亚时期的新哥特建筑风格。 墨尔本大学连年赢得最高份额的研究基金,奠定了它澳大利亚一流研究类大学的声誉。它成为维多利亚州同时整个澳洲甚至国际优秀学生的首选,墨尔本大学为学生提供了每年价值850万澳币的奖学金,。 墨尔本大学的毕业生在澳洲的政治,文化和商业领域涌现许多杰出人物,包括两名诺贝尔医学奖获得者,两位澳洲的前总理,一些亚洲的商界和政界人士也毕业于墨尔本大学, 墨尔本大学为澳大利亚在亚太地区的经济发展作出了很大贡献。 墨尔本大学的11个学院和墨尔本商学院及维多利亚学院提供了一流富有生机的学习环境。主要课程有:建筑学,建筑与设计,人文学科,经济和商科,教育,工程,土地和食品资源研究院,法律,医学,牙科和健康科学,音乐,科学和兽医学。墨尔本大学教学和学习都在多媒体教室,所应用的新技术和多媒体教材都是墨尔本大学的教师自己开发的。 墨尔本大学是Universitas 21(大学的国际性协会)的创建成员之一,它在教学和科研方面都享有声誉。 墨尔本大学在澳大利亚作为仅次于CSIRO的第二大科研机构以及获得澳洲政府赞助资金最多的大学之一(2011年获得赞助1.173亿澳币,2012年获得1.9亿澳元)。墨尔本大学强调学生在学术造诣与人格修养等方面的综合能力,竭力为学生塑造独特的“墨尔本经验”〔Melbourne experience〕。墨大校友中已有弗兰克·麦克法兰·伯内特、约翰·卡鲁·埃克尔斯、伊丽莎白·布莱克本等三位诺贝尔奖得主,此外还曾聘请诸如乔舒亚·莱德伯格(获诺贝尔奖前是墨大的访问教授)、彼得·杜赫提、伯特·萨克曼(诺贝尔生理学或医学奖)、詹姆斯·莫理斯、克莱夫·格兰杰(诺贝尔经济学奖)等多位世界级著名学者为客座教授。其他著名校友包括澳大利亚第二任总理艾尔弗雷德·迪金、第十二任总理罗伯特·孟席斯、第十七任总理哈罗德·霍尔特、第二十七任总理也是澳洲首位女性总理的茱莉娅·吉拉德等等在内的众多著名政治家、社会活动家/女权主义者吉曼·基尔、哲学家彼得·辛格〔普林斯顿大学教授〕、英国皇家工程院院长/剑桥大学校长亚历克·布罗厄斯教授、BAFTA/金球/奥斯卡获奖演员凯特·布兰切特等等。根据《The Bulletin》专刊“最具影响力的100位澳洲人”3,其中有33位与墨尔本大学有学术关系。仅次于悉尼大学。[2] 2007年开始,墨尔本大学进行了彻底的学制改革,逐渐抛弃了以往的澳洲传统“专才”教育模式,而效仿北美地区以及新近改革的欧洲大学所采纳的“通才”教育模式(Bologna process),即广为人知也又颇具争议的“墨尔本模式”(Melbourne Model),目的是建立起国际认知度更高、于国际教育接轨更紧密的学位制度以及培养出更多澳大利亚及世界所需要的未来社会新型人才。 墨尔本大学最早是由审计长以及财务部部长修·切尔德斯(Hugh Childers)在1852年11月4号的初次预算演讲上提出建立的。他个人也投资了10000英镑去修建这所大学(当时是笔大钱),1853年1月22号墨尔本大学正式立法成立,并被立法授权以授予文学、医学、法学和音乐学的
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The fact that no one made demands on her knowledge in her special field was lucky for Simochka. Not only she but many of her girlfriends had graduated from the institute without any such knowledge. There were many reasons for this. The young girls had come from high schools with very little grounding in mathematics and physics. They had learned in the upper grades that at faculty council meetings the school director had scolded the teachers for giving out failing marks, and that even if a pupil didn't study at all he received a diploma. In the institute, when they found time to sit down to study, they made their way through the mathematics and radio-technology as through a dense pine forest. But more often there was no time at all. Every fall for a month or more the students were taken to collective farms to harvest potatoes. For this reason, they had to attend lectures for eight and ten hours a day all the rest of the year, leaving no time to study their course work. On Monday evenings there was political indoctrination. Once a week a meeting of some kind was obligatory. Then one had to do socially useful work, too: issue bulletins, organize concerts, and it was also necessary to help at home, to shop, to wash, to dress. And what about the movies? And the theater? And the club? If a girl didn't have some fun and dance a bit during her student years, when would she do so afterward? For their examinations Simochka and her girlfriends wrote many cribs, which they hid in those sections of female clothing denied to males, and at the exams they pulled out the one the needed, smoothed it out, and turned it in as a work sheet. The examiners, of course, could have easily discovered the women students' ignorance, but they themselves were overburdened with committee meetings, assemblies, a variety of plans and reports to the dean's office and to the rector. It was hard on them to have to give an examination a second time. Besides, when their students failed, the examiners were reprimanded as if the failures were spoiled goods in a production process—according to the well-known theory that there are no bad pupils, only bad teachers. Therefore the examiners did not try to trip the students up but, in fact, attempted to get them through the examination with as good results as possible.
Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn (The First Circle)
NATURAL FLEA PROTECTION FOR DOGS An easy way to protect your dog from fleas is to apply a drop or two of eucalyptus essential oil on top of her head and ears, down her spine, and on her tail. Aromatic
Editors of Storey Publishing's Country Wisdom Bulletins (Country Wisdom Almanac: 373 Tips, Crafts, Home Improvements, Recipes, and Homemade Remedies)
Herbs for Cats Dill and catnip are excellent herbs to offer fresh to your cat.
Editors of Storey Publishing's Country Wisdom Bulletins (Country Wisdom Almanac: 373 Tips, Crafts, Home Improvements, Recipes, and Homemade Remedies)
The ladies of the church have cast off clothing of every kind, and they can be seen in the church basement Friday afternoon.” This doozy, culled by Richard Lederer from a church bulletin, is an instance of “obscure pronomial reference,” or, in plain English, a pronoun without a clear antecedent.
Constance Hale (Sin and Syntax: How to Craft Wicked Good Prose)
The problem is not that the information doesn’t exist; rather, it is the way it is formatted. As Atul Gawande, a doctor and author, puts it: The reason . . . is not usually laziness or unwillingness. The reason is more often that the necessary knowledge has not been translated into a simple, usable and systematic form. If the only thing people did in aviation was issue dense, pages-long bulletins . . . it would be like subjecting pilots to the same deluge of almost 700,000 medical journal articles per year that clinicians must contend with. The information would be unmanageable. Instead . . . crash investigators [distill] the information into its practical essence.30
Matthew Syed (Black Box Thinking: Why Most People Never Learn from Their Mistakes--But Some Do)
The annual Tax Statistics Bulletin, jointly released by the Treasury and SARS, revealed in November 2016 exactly how narrow that tax base is, noting that 60 per cent of South Africa’s corporate tax comes from just 325 large companies. The contribution of corporate tax has, in turn, steadily declined to 18,1 per cent of total tax revenue, down from a peak of 26,7 per cent before the financial crisis in 2008/09.184 The tax base associated with the private sector is shrinking. The same sorry state is evident in personal tax. In the 2017 budget, the finance minister announced a 45 per cent marginal tax rate for individuals earning above R1,5 million per annum, a rate that would apply to a mere 105 668 people out of a total population of some 55 million.
Jakkie Cilliers (Fate of the Nation: 3 Scenarios for South Africa's Future)
TRUTH
Arthur Jones (Nautilus Training Principles Bulletin No. 2 (Nautilus Bulletins))
Howard Rheingold: And it was all just words on a screen! R. U. Sirius: These were just text-based bulletin boards, but in many ways they were superior to social media today. You had really great conversations with extraordinary people. Larry Brilliant: Because it was Stewart, he attracted people who had these incredibly eclectic minds, and they were phenomenal writers, people who think in paragraphs. And the writing was fantastic! Kevin Kelly: That made for a very literate salon-like environment where people who could write were writing—and writing well and writing very directly. So some of the best writing I think of that decade was happening on The Well. Larry Brilliant: So just the opposite of Twitter. Lee Felsenstein: The Well, for its first five years at least, was the San Francisco bohemian scene online, where you could join the roundtable of whatever-it-was. There was a whole bunch of roundtables. And in there were the people who were the ones you had read about and so forth. Or had firsthand connections with the people you read about. San Francisco had had such a scene since the nineteenth century. And here it came direct to your home at your fingertips.
Adam Fisher (Valley of Genius: The Uncensored History of Silicon Valley (As Told by the Hackers, Founders, and Freaks Who Made It Boom))
Soon enough it was explained to Buck Nance that Key West was a bad location to be making fun of homosexuals, and also African-Americans. This bulletin was delivered by a 275-pound biker who happened to be both gay and black, and owned a right hand that fit easily around Buck's stringy, hirsute neck.
Carl Hiaasen (Razor Girl (Andrew Yancy, #2))
I grabbed Finnegan’s Magic 8 Ball from behind the cash register. My thumb went for the red scuff mark on the back of the ball, trying to rub it out like I always did whenever I got bored. Tucker was now preoccupied with lining up a pepper shaker cavalry across from a hostile regiment of saltshaker footmen. ... While Tucker stepped out back for his break, I commandeered his condiment armies. Gus’s cigarette smoke wafted toward the ceiling, pulled into the vent. The oscillating fan on the wall made the papers on the employee bulletin board flutter. Halfway through my recreation of the Battle of the Bulge, I shook Finnegan’s Magic 8 Ball to find out if the German saltshaker would be successful in his offensive. Ask again later. Useless thing. If the Allies had taken that advice, the Axis would have won the war.
Francesca Zappia (Made You Up)
One of the most dangerous things that can happen to a child is to kill or torture an animal and not be held responsible. [Cultural Factors in the Cause of Pathological Homicide. Bulletin of Menninger Clinic]
Margaret Mead
Not all statements that are truthful are useful.
Mokokoma Mokhonoana
Finally there was the lingo of the squad room. Dispatcher terminology was terse and correct, with no exposition to help a listener understand it. The faithful came to know that an APB was an all-points bulletin, and running a car through DMV meant checking with the Department of Motor Vehicles. When officers were sent on a 211, a 484, a 459, a 390, a 415, or a 311, that meant robbery, theft, burglary, a drunk, disturbing the peace, or lewd conduct, the numbers corresponding to the real sections of the penal code. R&I meant Record and Identification; a suspect’s physical characteristics were recorded on his I-sheet. MO was method of operation. And so it went, the terms washing over a listener in a way that was strangely enhanced by not being explained and completely understood.
John Dunning (On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio)
How do I love campuses? Let me count the ways. I love the coffee shops and reading rooms where one can sit and talk or browse forever. I love the buildings with no addresses that only the initiated can find, and the idiosyncratic clothes that would never make it in the outside world. I love the flash parties that start in some odd spot and can't be moved, and the flash seminars that any discussion can turn into. I love the bulletin boards that are an education in themselves, the friendships between people who would never otherwise have met, and the time for inventiveness that produces, say, an exercise bike that powers a computer. Most of all, I love graduations. They are individual and communal, an end and a beginning, more permanent than weddings, more inclusive than religions, and possibly the most moving ceremonies on earth.
Gloria Steinem (My Life on the Road)
I think of the tattered picture tacked to my long-ago bulletin board, the man of my fantasies on Blueberry Cove Lane, the mirage of a perfect life that brought me to Maine in the first place. Fairy tales end happily ever after because children crave certainty and resolution; they need to know how things turn out. But if my experiences in the past three months have shown me anything, it’s that I am comfortable living with more questions than answers.
Christina Baker Kline (The Way Life Should Be)
Mike Masaoka, the national secretary of the Japanese American Citizens League (JACL), the preeminent Japanese American organization, at the time understood and embraced the wartime imperative to put national security first. Explaining why his organization supported the West Coast evacuation of people of Japanese descent and other related military regulations, Masaoka announced in an April 1942 JACL bulletin: “Our primary consideration as good Americans is the total war effort . . . We may be temporarily suspending or sacrificing some of our privileges and rights of citizenship in the greater aim of protecting them for all time to come and to defeat those powers which seek to destroy them.”7
Michelle Malkin (In Defense of Internment: The Case for 'Racial Profiling' in World War II and the War on Terror)
Frieda and Milt laughed. “No,” he said. “See that D.F. 68 printed on the bottom? Well, I heard of the D.F. One of the government men started it mostly to keep the camps clean, and then so the camps would have self-government for their problems. Wherever there’s some D.F.s in a camp, they have the people elect a camp committee, a women’s committee, and the like. Finally, they got to putting out Educational Bulletins to tell the workers about the laws for them. This is number 3. This government man pays for ’em, just does it on his own hook to help the people. D.F. means Democracy Functioning.” “Now, where in the world did you get that mouthful?” asked Mrs. Starwood. “A fella here in camp was telling me. He must be the one come to the door.” “What’s it got to do with a union?” Frieda asked. “Nothing, just hopes it’ll educate the people to get in a union and protect themselves, I guess.
Sanora Babb (Whose Names Are Unknown)
Everything was on TV. Millions of American families sat in front of their sets all weekend. The three networks canceled all their regular programs. The news consisted entirely of stories linked to the assassination, and between bulletins there were documentaries about John F. Kennedy, his life, his family
Ken Follett (Edge of Eternity)
A notable exception is the position taken by Roy Baumeister and Mark Leary in their Psychological Bulletin article, "The Need to Belong: Desire for Interpersonal Attachments as a Fundamental
Paul R. Lawrence (Driven: How Human Nature Shapes Our Choices)
In person Kaltenborn was lanky, with a clipped moustache and thin hair. He was described as “confident but not conceited,” “pompous,” “unpretentious,” and by many other contradictory adjectives. His capabilities were vast. He was the only newscaster in radio who could strap on a pair of shortwave earphones, listen without translation to speeches by Hitler, Mussolini, or Daladier, go on the air immediately with only his cryptic notes as a script, and deliver a polished analysis. He was a rapid-fire commentator but spoke in simple sentences packed with one-syllable words and was easy to understand. He could read a one-line news bulletin and immediately give a quarter-hour explanation of its significance and probable consequences. He died in 1965.
John Dunning (On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio)
misfortunes. And they have better self-control, as McCullough and his colleague at the University of Miami, Brian Willoughby, recently concluded after analyzing hundreds of studies of religion and self-control over eight decades. Their analysis was published in 2009 in the Psychological Bulletin, one of the most prestigious and rigorous journals in the field. Some of the effects of religion were unsurprising: Religion promotes family values and social harmony, in part because some values gain in importance by being supposedly linked to God’s will or other religious values. Less obvious benefits included the finding that religion reduces people’s inner conflicts among different goals and values. As we noted earlier, conflicting goals impede self-regulation, so it appears that religion reduces such problems by providing believers with clearer priorities.
Roy F. Baumeister (Willpower: Rediscovering the Greatest Human Strength)
In 1835 the Academy of Sciences began publishing its weekly bulletin (the Comptes rendus). Here was a virgin dumping ground for Cauchy, and he began swamping the new publication with notes and lengthy memoirs- sometimes more than one a week. Dismayed at the rapidly mounting bill for printing, the Academy passed a rule, in force today, prohibiting the publication of an article over four pages long. This cramped Cauchy’s luxuriant style, and his longer memoirs, including a great one of 300 pages on the theory of numbers, were published elsewhere.
Eric Temple Bell (Men of Mathematics)
I pick up “This is Your Policeman” Public Information Bulletin No. 5. Under “His Code of Ethics” it says, “I will enforce the law … never employing unnecessary force or violence and never accepting gratuities.” I guess the cops at the Tuesday bust must have had this in mind, because I didn’t see any of them taking tips.
James Simon Kunen (The Strawberry Statement)
Bulletin a decade earlier, his definition of art: “It’s the only profession in the world where your employer wants you to die.” I think, in this strangely griefless church, it is perhaps the most honest description he gave of his career. I count up the art dealers in the room: there are four.
Erik Jensen (Acute Misfortune: The Life and Death of Adam Cullen)
recommendations
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth, before the difficult days come, and the years draw near when you say, “I have no pleasure in them.” —Ecclesiastes 12:1 (NKJV) I was making rounds at the veterans hospital where I work, when an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair pointed his cane to a sign on a bulletin board. “Look, hon,” he said to his wife, “they’re having an old-fashioned Easter egg hunt on Saturday. It says here that the kids can compete in a bunny-hop sack race for prizes.” He barely came up for air. “Remember when we used to have those Easter egg hunts on our farm? The kids would color eggs at our kitchen table and get dye all over everything.” Just then, his wife noticed the smell of popcorn in the air. Volunteers sell it for a bargain price—fifty cents a sack. The veteran didn’t miss a beat. “Remember when we used to have movie night and you would pop corn? We’ve got to start doing that again, hon. I love popcorn. Movies too.” As I took in this amazingly joyful man, I thought of things I used to be able to do before neurofibromatosis took over my body. It was nothing to run a couple of miles; I walked everywhere. Instead of rejoicing in the past, I too often complain about my restrictions. Rather than marvel how I always used to walk downtown, shopping, I complain about having to use a handicap placard on my car so I can park close to the mall, which I complain about as well. But today, with all my heart, I want to be like that veteran and remember my yesterdays with joy. Help me, dear Lord, to recall the past with pleasure. —Roberta Messner Digging Deeper: Eph 4:29; Phil 2:14
Guideposts (Daily Guideposts 2014)
In June 1991 he took the drastic step of asking a friend to post PGP on a Usenet bulletin board. PGP is just a piece of software, and so from the bulletin board it could be downloaded by anyone for free. PGP was now loose on the Internet.
Simon Singh (The Code Book: The Science of Secrecy from Ancient Egypt to Quantum Cryptography)
His father said nothing. Instead, he looked straight at Tengo as if he were reading a bulletin written in a foreign language." 1Q84, Murakami
Haruki Murakami
Also available locally are roses planted in containers and actively growing. These have the advantage
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
are more expensive and there are fewer varieties from which to choose. Check the canes and foliage for health and vigor. Once
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
numerical rating from 1 to 10. Based on these ratings, some of the best roses in each of the categories are: Hybrid
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
P.O. Box 30,000, Shreveport, LA 71130-0030. For $2.50 plus shipping from the same address, a yearly-updated
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Granada, Peace, Precious Platinum, Duet, Color Magic and First Prize. Floribundas — Europeana, Cherish, Simplicity,
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Donna. Miniatures
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Donna. Miniatures — Beauty Secret, Starina, Rise ‘n’ Shine, Mary Marshall, Magic Carrousel, holy Toledo, Lavender Jewel, Jean
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Climbers — Altissimo, Don Juan, Jeanne Lajoie, Sombreuil, America, Royal Sunset and Handel. Shrubs — Dortmund, Hansa, Ruskin, Will
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
No matter how great the rose variety or the quality of the plant, if put in a less-than-ideal location, you’ll be waging an uphill battle. A very simple way to have success with roses is to consider
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Soil drainage is particularly important, but even that can be corrected, either with tiling or raised beds.
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
The first consideration is sunlight. Roses need at least six hours each day for vigorous, healthy growth. If you have a choice between morning and afternoon
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
several hours, there is a problem. Avoid planting roses near large trees with shallow roots, such as silver maples or poplars. Also avoid
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
foliage is a breeding ground for disease. Actually, afternoon shade is beneficial in hot climates. If one area of the yard has better soil than another,
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
One aspect that people sometimes forget to consider is access. Having roses close to the house or a part of the yard that you regularly pass will mean that you will enjoy your roses more and take better care of them. Ready access to water is especially critical to summer maintenance. Using Roses
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
roses. You’ll enjoy both the scent and the flowers as you relax and entertain. Planting roses around the mailbox or lamp post and along walks and drives also makes your home inviting.
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Shrub roses readily create broad, informal hedges. Grandifloras make tall, narrow ones, while floribundas are best for low hedges. Space plants 24 inches
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Lavallee, Apothecary’s Rose, Celsiana, Crested Moss, Souvenir de la Malmaison,
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Medal, Intrigue, Sutter’s Gold, Tiffany, Sweet Surrender, Double Delight, Climbing Crimson Glory, Don Juan, Royal Sunset, Rosa rugosa, Blanc Double de Coubert, Frau Dagmar Haustrup, Sparrieshoop,
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
BlockChalk is a virtual community bulletin board for neighborhoods in nearly nine thousand cities. In function, it is like a hyper-local version of Twitter. From your cell phone, you can leave a message for someone on your block or street, whether it is to report something you found, announce something happening in your neighborhood, ask to borrow an item, warn people of something to watch out for, or just chat. A typical “chalk” (BlockChalks’s word for a message) reads, “Found dog while running last night @River Bank De & Poppy Way in Edgewater . . . Please post on here if he’s yours, or you know who he belongs to.” It was created by Josh Whiting, who was formerly a senior engineer for craigslist and Del.icio.us, to make it easy for neighbors to interact with each other. Recognizing that some users will want to keep their identity and location anonymous, you can reply privately or respond publicly, “chalkback.
Rachel Botsman (What's Mine Is Yours)
If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging.
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adaptable of plants, being able to thrive in a wide range of climates from subtropical California to the deep-freezer
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
complicated pruning techniques. In reality, roses are no more difficult to grow than any other shrub or flower. But just as other plants need some
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
roses are no more difficult to grow than any other shrub or flower. But just as other plants need
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
roses are no more difficult to grow than any other shrub or flower. But just as other plants need some care and attention, so do roses. A basic
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
roses. They are considered the ultimate flower to give as a gift, especially the classic red ones. Their special scent is a part of many of our perfumes.
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Their special scent is a part of many of our perfumes. Photos or paintings of roses grace calendars, cards and advertisements. Poets and songwriters frequently use the romantic symbolism
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Sometimes roses are wanted for a specific purpose or a special reason. The following selections are somewhat personal and arbitrary, but should provide a springboard in choosing varieties for
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Duchesse de Branbant, General Jacqueminot, Honorine de Branbant, Mme. Hardy and Salet. Hybrid-tea Roses for Hot, Dry Climates — Double
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Medal, Intrigue, Sutter’s Gold, Tiffany, Sweet Surrender, Double Delight, Climbing Crimson Glory, Don Juan, Royal Sunset, Rosa rugosa, Blanc Double de Coubert,
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Hybrid-tea Roses for Hot, Humid Climates — Double Delight, Fragrant Cloud, Honor, Lady X, Mister Lincoln, Paradise,
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
improved, so don’t let that limit where you use roses in the landscape. Roses are very tolerant of different soil types, especially if the soil is improved
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
An area with good air movement helps to quickly dry foliage from moisture of dew, rain or sprinkler
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Soil drainage is particularly important, but even that can be corrected, either with tiling or raised beds. To check drainage, dig a hole 18 inches deep
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
adaptability coupled with readiness to flower year after year right from the first, roses are clearly
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
shallow roots, such as silver maples or poplars. Also avoid planting under eaves or gutters where falling water, snow, or ice can be damaging. An area
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
sprinkler systems. Too much wind, especially in winter, can damage canes. One aspect that people sometimes forget to consider is access. Having roses close to the house or a part of the yard that you regularly pass will mean that you will enjoy your roses more and
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
adaptability coupled with readiness to flower year after year right from the first, roses are clearly one of the most versatile of plants for the landscape.
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
The traditional way to use roses is in beds. These can be any shape and are an attractive, albeit conservative, choice for a formal garden. More exciting
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
plants that are growing well, then no special preparation is needed. For a newly planted area, first remove any sod. Next, till or dig the soil to a depth of
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Bare-root, dormant roses are planted in early spring, when the soil is workable and severely freezing weather is over. In milder climates, bare-root
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
rose society is a good way to meet these people. By joining the American Rose Society you gain access to rose gardeners and information both locally
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
P.O. Box 30,000, Shreveport, LA 71130-0030. For $2.50 plus shipping from the same address, a yearly-updated “Handbook for Selecting Roses” can be
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)
Climbers — Altissimo, Don Juan, Jeanne Lajoie, Sombreuil, America, Royal Sunset and Handel. Shrubs — Dortmund, Hansa, Ruskin, Will Scarlet, Wanderin’ Wind, Golden Wings,
Maggie Oster (10 Steps to Beautiful Roses: Storey Country Wisdom Bulletin A-110)