Centre Stage Quotes

All unwillingly I opened my eyes - then I opened them wider, and lifted my head. The heat, my weariness, were quite forgotten. Piercing the shadows of the naked stage was a single shaft of rosy limelight, and in the centre of this there was a girl: the most marvellous girl - I knew it at once! - that I had ever seen.

A screaming vampire is always the centre of attention.

We’re immigrants. We get the job done. Alexander Hamilton to the Marquis de Lafayette me (at centre-stage)

I find my room claustrophobic. It is small, but that's not what I mean. It's claustrophobic because I feel like I've been trapped here for so long, this floor forming the centre stage from where my life story is playing out.

Care' is also a social capacity and activity involving the nurturing of all that is necessary for the welfare and flourishing of life. Above all, to put care centre stage means recognising and embracing our interdependencies.

The signal danger of life in a godless society is that it lacks reminders of the transcendent and therefore leaves us unprepared for disappointment and eventual annihilation. When God is dead, human beings – much to their detriment – are at risk of taking psychological centre stage. They imagine themselves to be commanders of their own destinies, they trample upon nature, forget the rhythms of the earth, deny death and shy away from valuing and honouring all that slips through their grasp, until at last they must collide catastrophically with the sharp edges of reality. Our secular world is lacking in the sorts of rituals that might put us gently in our place.

The future, even when it was only a question-shrouded glimmer, would not be eclipsed by the past; even when death moved towards the centre of the stage, life went on fighting for equal rights.

The Grief was always there; if not centre stage, then lurking in the wings, or hanging from the rafters, or pulsing beneath the floorboards. But it didn't always need my attention. I could ignore it - for a little while, at least. I was always grieving, but sometimes I was grieving with an AND.

Psychoanalysis and Greek mythology are two sides of the same medallion. To put it differently: without classical mythology, there would be no psychoanalysis. If that seems like too bold a statement, this chapter aims to show that it is not. It will look at the dynamic relationship forged between psychoanalysis and classical myth, and the impacts, positive and negative, that each has made upon the other. There are numerous psychoanalytic theorists, but Freud necessarily takes centre stage. Like many in 19th-century Germany, Freud was passionate about ancient Greece and its myths. He was both an analyst of the psyche, or mind (using Greek myth) and of Greek myth (using the psyche). As a result, he initiated a radical new method of enquiry, psychoanalysis, and wrote a momentous chapter in the history of classical mythology.

and all are bound for the world’s centre stage where they’ll challenge, outperform and patronise us old farts at our retirement parties, as we did when we looked that beautiful.

I worship her, Bertie! I worship the very ground she treads on!" continued the patient, in a loud, penetrating voice. Fred thompson and one or two fellows had come in, and McGarry, the chappie behind the bar, was listening with his ears flapping. But there's no reticence about Bingo. He always reminds me of the hero of a musical comedy who takes the centre of the stage, gathers the boys round him in a circle, and tells them all about his love at the top of his voice.

Maybe unhappiness is the continuum through which a human life moves, and joy just a series of blips, of islands in the stream. Or if not unhappiness, then at least melancholy... In the eternal struggle between the world’s beauty and its cruelty, cruelty was gaining ground by the day...[And yet] The future, even when it was only a question-shrouded glimmer, would not be eclipsed by the past; even when death moved towards the centre of the stage, life went on fighting for equal rights.

In the involved and complicated business of politics, it is difficult to say who the puppeteer is and who the puppet, particularly when one is often both....

Up on the stage people appeared to be dying left right and centre, and for most of the performance I had quite felt like leaping up there and joining them.

there were always men in the background, imagining they were centre stage. The newer variety, who were careful to keep their inner Weinstein on a leash; older ones like Peter Judd, who wore their chauvinism like battlefield decorations; and uncategorisable miscreants like Jackson Lamb, who probably thought the glass ceiling was a feature in a Berlin brothel.

She didn't know what it was like to look and wish and want, always two steps behind the person, always on the edges of their life. What it was like to stand next to someone and know you weren't registering with them, not in any meaningful way. That you thought about someone a thousand times more than they'd ever thought about you. To know that you were just a face in the crowd scenes while they were centre stage. And then all at once, to have the spotlight finally swing over to you. To suddenly be visibly, to be seen, no longer one of the people in the background who never get any lines. To suddenly be in the midst of something you’d only ever looked at from the sidelines. What that felt like when it finally happened, dropped in your lap when you were least expecting it, like a gift you were half-afraid to open.

To hold on to hygge, we learn to listen and to speak up. We hone the art of conversation and attempt to master an evenness of flow (an equal share of contributions and turns), and to maintain a sense of mutual involvement. Those of us who are more introverted can relax in the knowledge that no one is expected to take centre stage. For an occasion to work well for everyone, the desire for hygge has to be balanced with a respect for individuality.

They could lock the sheep in pens, castrate rams and selectively breed ewes, yet they could not ensure that the ewes conceived and gave birth to healthy lambs, nor could they prevent the eruption of deadly epidemics. How then to safeguard the fecundity of the flocks? A leading theory about the origin of the gods argues that gods gained importance because they offered a solution to this problem. Gods such as the fertility goddess, the sky god and the god of medicine took centre stage when plants and animals lost their ability to speak, and the gods’ main role was to mediate between humans and the mute plants and animals. Much of ancient mythology is in fact a legal contract in which humans promise everlasting devotion to the gods in exchange for mastery over plants and animals – the first chapters of the book of Genesis are a prime example. For thousands of years after the Agricultural Revolution, religious liturgy consisted mainly of humans sacrificing lambs, wine and cakes to divine powers, who in exchange promised abundant harvests and fecund flocks.

She looks again at the performance, at how everyone involved is concentrating on the same aim, from the principal dancer spinning centre stage, to the unseen man high in the rafters controlling the spotlight, to the patient percussionist counting out the empty bars of space before his single soft tink on the triangle. It moves her the way that stories about soldiers uniting to go into battle move her, a collective endeavour in service of a single cause. She would like very much to be a part of that. No. She would like very much to be in charge of that.

And I think the space in my life has been cleared out at this stage, and it’s empty, and maybe for that reason it’s time for me to fall in love again. I need to feel that my life has some kind of centre, somewhere for my thoughts to return and rest. I know, by the way, that most people don’t need any such thing, and I would be much healthier if I didn’t.

Already, though, the fiction has become blurred. Am I Mr. Y? Do I have to be for the book to work? When I was a kid I always made an agreement with myself never to identify with main protagonists, because bad things or, more troublingly, big things tended to happen to them and I couldn’t cope with the feeling that these things were also happening to me, to the self that you project into fiction when you read. So I would decide on a secondary character that I would ‘be’ for the duration of the book. Sometimes I died; sometimes I turned out to be evil. But I never had to take centre stage. Now I’m older, I read more conventionally. Right now I’m scared for Mr. Y/me and I feel as though it must be raining outside, even though it isn’t.

Faced with Russian menace and Ottoman collapse, Britain and France threatened war. Nicholas stubbornly called their bluff because, he explained, he was “waging war for a solely Christian purpose, under the banner of the Holy Cross.” On 28 March 1853, the French and British declared war on Russia. Even though most of the fighting was far away in the Crimea, this war placed Jerusalem at the centre of the world stage where she has remained ever since.f

Services are a series of interactions between customers and the service system through many different touchpoints during the customer journey. As the sole way that customers relate to your services, you would think that interactions would be centre stage for all service providers. So, why are so many services so bad? When Demos, a UK think tank, talk of a fundamental disconnection between services and people, one of the main reasons they give is the poor consideration of the interactions between the service provider and the customer – the interaction design. To value your customer, you need to spend some time understanding the interactions they have with your service, and that means two things. Firstly, viewing your service through the customers’ eyes, and secondly, designing in such a way that customers receive consistent experiences over time which they consider valuable. It’s strange, but repeatedly we see companies ignoring both of these aspects, with the consequence that customers feel ignored and value is lost. One

The principles of war are the same as those of a siege. Fire must be concentrated on one point, and as soon as the breach is made, the equilibrium is broken and the rest is nothing.' Subsequent military theory has put the accent on the first clause instead of on the last: in particular, on the words 'one point' instead of on the word 'equilibrium'. The former is but a physical metaphor, whereas the latter expresses the actual psychological result which ensures 'that the rest is nothing'. His own emphasis can be traced in the strategic course of his campaigns. The word 'point' even, has been the source of much confusion, and more controversy. One school has argued that Napoleon meant that the concentrated blow must be aimed at the enemy's strongest point, on the ground that this, and this only, ensures decisive results. For if the enemy's main resistance be broken, its rupture will involve that of any lesser opposition. This argument ignores the factor of cost, and the fact that the victor may be too exhausted to exploit his success-so that even a weaker opponent may acquire a relatively higher resisting power than the original. The other school-better imbued with the idea of economy of force, but only in the limited sense of first costs-has contended that the offensive should be aimed at the enemy's weakest point. But where a point is obviously weak this is usually because it is remote from any vital artery or nerve centre, or because it is deliberately weak to draw the assailant into a trap. Here, again illumination comes from the actual campaign in which Bonaparte put this maxim into execution. It clearly suggests that what he really meant was not 'point', but 'joint'-and that at this stage of his career he was too firmly imbued with the idea of economy of force to waste his limited strength in battering at the enemy's strong point. A joint, however, is both vital and vulnerable. It was at this time too, that Bonaparte used another phrase that has subsequently been quoted to justify the most foolhardy concentrations of effort against the main armed forces of the enemy. 'Austria is our most determined enemy....Austria overthrown, Spain and Italy fall of themselves. We must not disperse our attacks but concentrate them.' But the full text of the memorandum containing this phrase shows that he was arguing, not in support of the direct attack upon Austria, but for using the army on the frontier of Piedmont for an indirect approach to Austria.

At the present moment, art cannot be said to make exigent demands upon the audience. That segment of our culture which is at all responsive to contemporary art is wholly permeable by it. The situation no longer obtains in which the experience of a contemporary work begins in resistance and proceeds by relatively slow stages to a comprehending or submissive admiration. The artist now can make scarcely anything which will prove really exigent to the audience, which will outrage its habitual sensibility. The audience likes or does not like, is pleased or not pleased—the faculty of ‘taste’ has re-established itself at the centre of the experience of art.

If we combine the mass extinctions in Australia and America, and add the smaller-scale extinctions that took place as homo sapiens spread over Afro-Asia - such as the extinction of all other human species - and the extinctions that occurred when ancient foragers settled remote islands such as Cube, the inevitable conclusion is that the first wave of Sapiens colonisation was one of the biggest and swiftest ecological disasters to befall the animal kingdom. Hardest hit were the large furry creatures. At the time of the Cognitive Revolution, the planet was home to about 200 genera of large terrestrial mammals weighing over fifty kilograms. At the time of the Agricultural Revolution, only about a hundred remained. Homo sapiens drove to extinction about half of the planet's big beasts long before humans invented the wheel, writing or iron tools. This ecological tragedy was restaged in miniature countless times after the Agricultural Revolution. The archaeological record of island after island tells the same sad story. The tragedy opens with a scene showing a rich and varied population of large animals, without any trace of humans. In scene two, Sapiens appear, evidenced by a human bone, a spear point, or perhaps a potsherd. Scene three quickly follows, in which men and women occupy centre stage and most large animals, along with many smaller ones, are gone. (p. 80)

Barbara took her accustomed place by the door but as the singing began Margerit beckoned her over to her side. "I haven't been following much except that it's all ancient Greeks and battles and such. What's happening now?" Barbara knelt beside her and leaned close to whisper so as not to disturb the rest of the party. A brief synopsis of what had gone before took up the time while the chorus escorted the principles to the centre of the stage. "I haven't seen this performance before," Barbara added, "but I imagine this will be the grand love duet." As the soprano began, she concentrated on the stage to follow the opening phrases. The chorus had abandoned the field to the principles who faced each other against a backdrop of fluted columns. "O! What strange fate is mine!" Barbara paused as the signature line was repeated several times. "I loved you in the guise of Mars, but now I am betrayed by Venus. The iron in your glance turns soft beneath my touch. I am undone. O Venus, you are cruel to mock me so." It continued on in the same vein until it was the mezzo's turn. Her lyrics ran much parallel with the soprano's. With less concentration required, Barbara ventured a glance to see Margerit's reaction. Margerit turned at the same moment and their eyes met as Barbara whispered Ifis's lines. "O! What a strange fate is mine! In the guise of Mars I love you but now as Venus I'm betrayed. The Iron in my soul turns soft beneath your touch." Unconsciously, Margerit placed a hand on hers where it lay on the arm of her chair. "Fire runs through my veins - I am undone." Fire indeed ran through her veins. Her hand burned sweetly where Margerit touched it and she dared now take it back. Her voice grew husky. "Why do the gods mock me with desire I cannot sate?" Their eyes were still locked and Margerit's lips had parted in a little "o" of wonder. "O Venus, have mercy on one new come to your shrine." When the soprano joined again for the duet, Margerit breathed along with her, "O! What strange fate is mine!" With effort, Barbara wrenched her gaze away.

The Denisovan’s Tale is short, as befits a set of people about whom we know so little. They are named after the Denisova Cave in the Altai mountains of Siberia, and the cave itself is named after Denis, an eighteenth-century resident hermit. Less than a decade ago, few people would have heard of it, let alone known how to pronounce it.* Now it is centre stage in debates surrounding recent human evolution. In 2009 Johannes Krause and Qiaomei Fu attempted to extract DNA from one half of the tip of a 40,000-year-old finger bone, excavated from deep under the cave floor. An archaeologist at the site is reported to have described it as the ‘most unspectacular fossil I’ve ever seen’. What did turn out to be spectacular, however, was both the degree of DNA preservation, and the subsequent overturning of established views. First to be sequenced was the mitochondrial DNA. This was found to be distinct from both Moderns and Neanderthals. It lies on a much deeper branch of the gene tree. A year or so later it was joined by more mitochondrial DNA extracted from two molar teeth in almost the same layer of the Denisova excavations. The teeth were visibly larger than those of Neanderthals, more like molars in Homo erectus or the earlier hominids† that we will greet further along in our pilgrimage. Now that the fingertip has been pulverised for DNA extraction, the two teeth constitute all the tangible evidence we have of the Denisovans. Although what we have described so far is titillating, it is thin evidence for a new human subspecies.

For an immeasurable period of time, hours, days, weeks, it seemed, Celia had been struggling against tides of anguish, sinking deeper and deeper into a dreadful sea, whose waves broke at ever shorter intervals until at last there was no respite, but an endless torment that drowned and broke and shattered her to nothing. There was no longer any such person as Celia Bryant in the living world. All that remained was an anonymous hulk, a bleeding rag of flesh in a universe of pain. Her brain had long ago ceased to function. Only somewhere, at the centre of torture, an inexorable core of consciousness persisted. Hours ago, years ago, she had thought: 'This is too much. No one could bear such agony and go on living.' It seemed that something in her must break; that she must either die or fall into oblivion. Yet somehow she had gone on bearing everything. She had not died. She had not lost consciousness. All that she had lost was the sense of her personal integrity. As a human being she was obliterated; her mind was dispersed. she could not any longer envisage an end of torment. 'Not only not to hope:not even to wait. Just to endure.' At last, in some region utterly remote, a new thing came into being, words were spoken, and strangely, incredibly, the words had significance. That which had once been Celia could not grasp their meaning because somewhere else a woman's voice was crying out lamentably. Nevertheless, she heard a man speaking, and with a new searing pain there pierced her also a thin shaft of hope, the first premonitory pang of deliverance. Thereafter she seemed to fall into a black and quiet place, a dark hole of oblivion, where she lay as at the bottom of a deep well. Slowly, painfully, the disintegrated fragments of her being reassembled themselves. By long and difficult stages she returned to some sort of normality. Her brain, her senses, all the strained mechanism of her body and mind, reluctantly began to function once more. The miracle for which she no longer hoped had actually come to pass: there was an end of pain.

The deeply flushed midsummer sunlight, the strong, clear alcohol filling a dirty glass, a goat tethered with a rope, the enormous sides of a glitteringly white modern building, the solemn melody of the national orchestra, the slender-necked actress who was performing on the stage, the arc of a rainbow which, after a sudden shower, fell to the earth like an arrow from between the clouds, a sheepdog pressed flat under the wheel of a car, a herd of stubborn goats bobbing their heads with profound indifference, blue cloth fluttering in the wind, designating something sacred, a swarthy woman looking down on the street below from a first-floor window, her exposed chest leaning out over the wooden frame, cat-sized rats threading their way around the legs of market stalls, unlit signs and display windows, a sombrely lit butcher’s fridge, each dark red carcass still buttressed with the animal’s skeleton, Banchi’s printing shop, on the ground floor of a temple on the main street in the city centre, there Banchi makes picture postcards featuring his own translations of Indian sutras.

For him, the moment when the crown was placed on the new monarch's head was a moment of climax, a moment of release. Like everyone else, even with the help of the television commentary he had not really understood these final stages of the service; but to him they conveyed, nonetheless, a sense of correctness that was actually enhanced, not undermined, by their obscurity. Geoffrey had not cared for the atmosphere of the immediate post-war years: dangerous forces - rationalism, inclusiveness, egalitarianism - seemed to have been unleashed by the war, and threatened to shake the foundations of the old order. But now, this ponderous, arcane, incomprehensible ceremony felt to him like a breath of stale air, wafting its viewers back to an earlier, more solid world, a world rooted not in dubious human values but made up entirely of dazzling abstractions and occult hierarchies. Before their very eyes, even the Queen herself, this passive, inscrutable, twenty-seven-year-old woman at the centre of the ritual, had become no longer a human being in any meaningful sense but a mere symbol. And this was entirely right. This was her destiny. Just look, Geoffrey said to himself, how everybody here is mesmerized by the solemnity of this moment, accepting its truth, its inevitability. Even (looking at Doll as he thought it) even the Socialist! The old ways have won again. Tradition has won again. And so it will always be. England doesn't change.

Before time and space began, the true God existed in a realm known as the Pleroma, which means fullness, together with a female divine principle, known as Ennoia, or Thought. The true God does not create, but rather emanates, which is to say that things come forth from him. In other words, rather than the true God saying ‘Let there be light’, as the God of the Old Testament does, light comes forth from the true God as if it were breath; it is not deliberate, willed creation. A series of emanations resulted in the creation of a number of divine figures known as aeons. Central to the idea of emanation is that each successive emanation is somewhat lesser than that from which it emanated, like the ripples on the surface of a pond after a stone has been dropped into the middle of it, with the ripples in the centre of the pond being closer to the stone than the ones at the pond’s edge. Sophia, the Wisdom of God, being the youngest of the aeons, is also therefore the furthest from God, and it was through her desire to know the true God that an emanation came forth from her without the knowledge or participation of her male consort (all the aeons having partners). This emanation produced the dark chaos which was to become matter, but at this stage was a soulless place, ‘limitless darkness and bottomless water’.40 Gnostic texts describe it as an abortion. Sophia, being disturbed by the darkness, decided to create a being to rule over it and breathed life into an androgynous, lion-faced being known as Ialdabaoth, a word which could mean either ‘begetter of the heavenly powers’ (i.e., ‘creator of the world’) or ‘childish god’.

can be horribly fallible, and is over-rated in courts of law. Psychological experiments have given us some stunning demonstrations, which should worry any jurist inclined to give superior weight to ‘eye-witness’ evidence. A famous example was prepared by Professor Daniel J. Simons at the University of Illinois. Half a dozen young people standing in a circle were filmed for 25 seconds tossing a pair of basketballs to each other, and we, the experimental subjects, watch the film. The players weave in and out of the circle and change places as they pass and bounce the balls, so the scene is quite actively complicated. Before being shown the film, we are told that we have a task to perform, to test our powers of observation. We have to count the total number of times balls are passed from person to person. At the end of the test, the counts are duly written down, but – little does the audience know – this is not the real test! After showing the film and collecting the counts, the experimenter drops his bombshell. ‘And how many of you saw the gorilla?’ The majority of the audience looks baffled: blank. The experimenter then replays the film, but this time tells the audience to watch in a relaxed fashion without trying to count anything. Amazingly, nine seconds into the film, a man in a gorilla suit strolls nonchalantly to the centre of the circle of players, pauses to face the camera, thumps his chest as if in belligerent contempt for eye-witness evidence, and then strolls off with the same insouciance as before (see colour page 8). He is there in full view for nine whole seconds – more than one-third of the film – and yet the majority of the witnesses never see him. They would swear an oath in a court of law that no man in a gorilla suit was present, and they would swear that they had been watching with more than usually acute concentration for the whole 25 seconds, precisely because they were counting ball-passes. Many experiments along these lines have been performed, with similar results, and with similar reactions of stupefied disbelief when the audience is finally shown the truth. Eye-witness testimony, ‘actual observation’, ‘a datum of experience’ – all are, or at least can be, hopelessly unreliable. It is, of course, exactly this unreliability among observers that stage conjurors exploit with their techniques of deliberate distraction.

The centre of the conception of wisdom in the Bible is the Book of Ecclesiastes, whose author, or rather, chief editor, is sometimes called Koheleth, the teacher or preacher. Koheleth transforms the conservatism of popular wisdom into a program of continuous mental energy. Those who have unconsciously identified a religious attitude either with illusion or with mental indolence are not safe guides to this book, although their tradition is a long one. Some editor with a “you’d better watch out” attitude seems to have tacked a few verses on the end suggesting that God trusts only the anti-intellectual, but the main author’s courage and honesty are not to be defused in this way. He is “disillusioned” only in the sense that he has realized that an illusion is a self-constructed prison. He is not a weary pessimist tired of life: he is a vigorous realist determined to smash his way through every locked door of repression in his mind. Being tired of life is in fact the only mental handicap for which he has no remedy to suggest. Like other wise men, he is a collector of proverbs, but he applies to all of them his touchstone and key word, translated in the AV [the Authorized Version] as “vanity.” This word (hebel) has a metaphorical kernel of fog, mist, or vapour, a metaphor that recurs in the New Testament (James 4:14). It this acquires a derived sense of “emptiness,” the root meaning of the Vulgate’s vanitas. To put Koheleth’s central intuition into the form of its essential paradox: all things are full of emptiness. We should not apply a ready-made disapproving moral ambience to this word “vanity,” much less associate it with conceit. It is a conception more like the shunyata or “void” of Buddhist though: the world as everything within nothingness. As nothing is certain or permanent in the world, nothing either real or unreal, the secret of wisdom is detachment without withdrawal. All goals and aims may cheat us, but if we run away from them we shall find ourselves bumping into them. We may feel that saint is a “better” man than a sinner, and that all of our religious and moral standards would crumble into dust if we did not think so; but the saint himself is most unlikely to take such a view. Similarly Koheleth went through a stage in which he saw that wisdom was “better” than folly, then a stage in which he saw that there was really no difference between them as death lies in wait for both and finally realized that both views were equally “vanity”. As soon as we renounce the expectation of reward, in however, refined a guise, for virtue or wisdom, we relax and our real energies begin to flow into the soul. Even the great elegy at the end over the failing bodily powers of old age ceases to become “pessimistic” when we see it as part of the detachment with which the wise man sees his life in the context of vanity. We take what comes: there is no choice in the matter, hence no point in saying “we should take what comes.” We soon realize by doing so that there is a cyclical rhythm in nature. But, like other wheels, this is a machine to be understood and used by man. If it is true that the sun, the seasons, the waters, and human life itself go in cycles, the inference is that “there is a time for all things,” something different to be done at each stage of the cycle. The statement “There is nothing new under the sun” applies to wisdom but not to experience , to theory but not to practice. Only when we realize that nothing is new can we live with an intensity in which everything becomes new.

This sort of performative labour is typically enacted on an ever-expanding stage-set of "non-places", as anthropologist Marc Auge describes them: a programmed landscape of retail parks, travel networks, leisuredromes and virtualized call centres which could be anywhere or nowhere.

Maybe there will always be men who say the right thing at the right time, who step forward like Thespis at just the right moment of history, and then there will be men like Archie Jones who are just there to make up the numbers. Or, worse still, who are given their big break only to come in on cue and die a death right there, centre stage, for all to see

Edinburgh For those who like walking, Edinburgh reigns supreme. The Royal Mile runs through the centre of the tourist area connecting Edinburgh Castle with Holyrood Palace. It’s a little over a mile and, in addition to passing old Edinburgh historic sites, it is lined with independent shops, cafes and pubs along the way. For this is Edinburgh’s Old Town, all cobbled streets beneath the lofty castle. The New Town is less than ten minutes walk away and it’s far from new. Instead New Town is Georgian, built by the wealthy residents in the 18th century. Its wide streets and perfect proportions create a visual joy for walking. It’s tough to name Edinburgh’s main sites, but here goes: the castle, continuously occupied for more than 1000 years; Holyrood Palace, the Queen’s official residence in Scotland; Mary King’s Close, a preserved 18th century tenement on the Royal Mile and; the Grassmarket, a network of cobbled lanes with independent shops and cafes. I could go on. Edinburgh is particularly busy during the festival that takes place from August to early September. It began as a military tattoo, developed into a fairly high brow arts festival and has expanded to host off‐stage events from the clever to the bizarre. Edinburgh also hosts a massive Hogmanay, or New Year, celebration with music and dancing in the streets all through the night and often into the next day. The city is at its busiest during the August festival and again at New Year. Public transport by bus and tram is available from the airport to the city centre. Downside: It is an expensive place to visit at peak periods and it can be tough to find a place to stay. Your first visit should be at quieter times. To read: Edinburgh is a literary city and so many novels have

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The ‘family’, in the sense in which the term is used today, emerged only after a long process of historical development. The many figures that populated the family in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries gradually disappeared until the couple of husband and wife took the centre of the stage, and the marriage contract became constitutive of domestic relations.

John is telling us nothing less than that from an eternity of the past to an eternity of the future the centre of the stage is occupied by the Lamb of God who was slain.

The well was now belching smoke, illuminated from some hellfire below, and for one breathless moment Boswell was reminded of Faust, and the hush that descends before Mephistopheles himself emerges from a hidden trapdoor centre stage.

And he is not at an age right for renunciation; he has not even entered the stage of the householder, as befits a well educated man; he has not therefore paid back his dues to the gods and to his ancestral spirits and to his fellowmen. Bound by these dues where can he go now? He has no experience at all of women and consequently of samsara. He has not therefore attained any of the purusharthas of life, namely dharma, artha and kama. He has not even rendered personal service to his parents to ensure their comfort. He has not helped his loving relations, nor endowed his dear friends with wealth, nor honoured the wise. He has not shared his wealth with his dependants nor fulfilled the desires of those begging for favours. "He has not founded his lineage by begetting sons and grandsons. Nor has he performed any great sacrificial rituals. He has not given generous gifts nor fulfilled his obligations of hospitality. He has not done his duty by this world. He has not adorned the earth with dams, wells and water distributing centres, with palaces, ponds and groves. Above all he has not still spread his fame far and wide which alone would live on till the end of the world.

A new paradigm has come to centre stage: the future of our Earth and its atmosphere. Education systems now need to prepare a whole generation for a working life based on humans being able to coexist in balance with the very foundations of life. Why should we learn ethics? Because the coming years will be full of moral challenges. Why learn algebra? We will need to absorb hundreds of gigatons of CO2 and no one knows how to go about that right now. Why study poetry and ancient songs? Because poetry is the silver thread of the human spirit; without it, human existence is unthinkable.

Events – dear boy – duly forced the devaluation option into centre stage. Decade by decade, government by government, the impact of energy policy on British politics is a constant theme. One could write a useful political history which did not move beyond the dilemmas posed by energy supply.

In the days before culture shifted centre-stage, there was an obvious dwelling place for the spirit, known as religion. Religion did all that culture was later to do, but far more effectively. It could enlist countless millions of men and women in the business of ultimate values, not just the few well-educated enough to read Horace or listen to Mahler. To assist it in this task, it had the threat of hell fire at its disposal - a penalty which proved rather more persuasive than the murmurs of cultivated distaste around those who hadn't read Horace. Religion has been for most of human history one of the most precious components of popular life, even though almost all theorists of popular culture embarrassingly ignore it.

Mani Kaul, the most strikingly non-narrative of the Indian arthouse filmmakers of the sixties and seventies, was also a student and exponent of the dhrupad. I don’t know if it was his exposure to the raga that made his films (according to many) notoriously slow, and Kaul (this is known to relatively few) a ferocious critic of the Renaissance. The Renaissance painting, like proscenium theatre, or, indeed, the realist story, gives centre-stage to a protagonist – that is, the human being. Renaissance art’s development of perspective helps consolidate the rules of realism: a foreground or central theme, and a background occupied by what’s necessary to complete the portrait of the protagonist. Kaul’s cinema wished to be unfettered by hero or theme; he wanted the camera to devote itself equally to recording things ordinarily consigned to ‘background’.

Certain it is that the boys disappeared. Whatever happened to them, Richard’s fatal mistake lay in failing to realize that their disappearance would be used by the Morton-Beaufort-Tudor axis as an opportunity to manoeuvre the unlikely Henry Tudor to centre stage as a challenger for the throne. Regrettably, Richard appears not to have taken sufficient regard of this threat. Thus he would not have foreseen that removing them from view, even if done for the most benign of reasons, would play right into the hands of his opponents.

In dreaming about what he would like to become or achieve, his goals are invariably highly individualistic. He must become the composer, the solo performer, the genius scientist who makes the unique discovery. If he is to be noticed at all, then he must be centre stage. If he can’t be centre stage in an area of interest, then he must withdraw and resort to vitriolic criticism. … General role models for INTPs are individualistic, creative and perhaps enigmatic people. Innovative free-thinkers who follow their own new paths are usually greatly respected. Famous historical figures who attract the INTP’s greatest respect are scientists, composers, inventors and, in society, revolutionary leaders and noble visionaries who bring about major change. Above all, individualism is the key factor, while vision is the most highly prized asset.

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

As one woman in the early stages of dementia said about her experience described in the book, ‘I don’t know what happened but the music got inside my body and I just had to dance.

John and Paul always had a special link between them, a chemistry that added to the heat: they knew intuitively how to share the stage and the limelight, how to spar with each other and how to play the audience so that the girls went wild. George, who played lead guitar, was quiet and serious. If anyone asked him why, he’d say that he couldn’t afford to make a mistake. Stu and Pete were quiet too, so the way was clear for John and Paul to take centre stage.

The Lottery by Stewart Stafford It was New York, 1984, The AIDS tsunami roared in, Friends, old overnight, no more, Breathless, I went for a check-up. A freezing winter's dawn, A solitary figure before me, What we called a drag queen, White heels trembled in the cold. "Hi, are you here to get tested?" Gum chewed, brown eyes stared. This was not my type of person, I turned heel and walked away. At month's end, a crippling flu, The grey testing centre called, Two hundred people ahead of me; A waking nightmare all too real. I gave up and turned to leave, But a familiar voice called out: "Hey, you there, come back!" I stopped and turned around. The drag queen stood there in furs, But sicker, I didn't recognise them, "Stand with me in the line, honey." "Nah, I'm fine, I'll come back again." "Support an old broad before she faints?" A voice no longer frail but pin-sharp. I got in line to impatient murmurs: "If anyone has a problem, see me!" Sylvester on boombox, graveyard choir. My pal's stage name was Carol DaRaunch, (After the Ted Bundy female survivor) Their real name was Ernesto Rodriguez. After seeing the doctor, Carol hugged me, Writing down their number on some paper, With their alias not their real name on it: "Is this the number of where you work?" "THAT is my home number to call me on. THAT'S my autograph, for when I'm famous!" "I was wrong about you, Carol," I said. "Baby, it takes time to get to know me!" A hug, shimmy, the threadbare blonde left. A silent chorus of shuffling dead men walking, Spartan results, a young man's death sentence. Real words faded rehearsal, my eyes watered. Two weeks on, I cautiously phoned up Carol. The receiver was picked up, dragging sounds, Like furniture being moved: "Is Carol there?" "That person is dead." They hung up on me. All my life's harsh judgements, dumped on Carol, Who was I to win life's lottery over a guardian angel? I still keep that old phone number forty years on, Crumpled, faded, portable guilt lives on in my wallet. © Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.

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Hasty headlines had been quick to proclaim the coup a 'failed attempt,' but I was not so sure. It was never really about votes, it was about views. The true site of power was not within the Senate walls: it was online, in the audience, in the engagement, in the algorithms. The coup was pure performativity, an event without a centre, familiar enough to any influencer accustomed to staging life via an iPhone.

If Tesco wants to shrink costs and improve the reliability of the 85 percent of the value stream it does not directly control, it’s obvious that the upstream firms must collectively rethink their operating methods, and this is how Tesco and the Lean Enterprise Research Centre joined forces. While it is still in the early stages, the process of jointly conducting the analysis just described should gradually change Tesco, the bottler, the can maker, the cold roller, the hot roller, the smelter, and the bauxite miner from seven isolated adversaries into a team of collaborators, indeed into a lean enterprise.

When all these data were collected they came into the hands of Kepler,* who then tried to analyse what kind of motion the planets made around the sun. And he did this by a method of trial and error. At one stage he thought he had it; he figured out that they went round the sun in circles with the sun off centre. Then Kepler noticed that one planet, I think it was Mars, was eight minutes of arc off, and he decided this was too big for Tycho Brahe to have made an error, and that this was not the right answer. So because of the precision of the experiments he was able to proceed to another trial and ultimately found out three things.

Alexis Tsipras, the Syriza leader, has in recent weeks abandoned his pledge to “tear up” the country’s bailout agreement with international creditors and is emphasising more moderate steps to address Greece’s debt load as well as his deep commitment to the euro. Krishna Guha, of Evercore ISI, warned that — at a minimum — investors now faced “a four-week period of elevated uncertainty in which eurozone risk assets will struggle to perform”. Yet Mr Guha added: “We believe that Tsipras will prove more pragmatic than past Syriza rhetoric suggests. He has opened back channels to Berlin, Paris and Frankfurt, and has every incentive to try to negotiate relatively cosmetic changes to Greece’s programme and ride the early-stage Greek recovery rather than derail it.” Nick Wall, a portfolio manager at Invesco, also noted Mr Tsipras’ recent attempt to tack to the political centre. “They are going to need private sector investors, particularly if they are going to start running deficits again.

The girl who would only appear in school plays if she had a non-speaking part was now centre stage. It took, by her own admission, six years before she felt comfortable appearing in her starring role. Fortunately for her the camera had already fallen in love with the new royal cover girl. However nervous she may have felt inside, her warm smile and unaffected manner were a photographer’s delight. For once the camera did lie, not about the beauty she was becoming but in camouflaging the vulnerable personality behind her effortless capacity to dazzle. She believes that she was able to smile through the pain thanks to qualities she inherited from her mother. When friends ask how she was able to display such a sunny public countenance she says: “I’ve got what my mother has got. However bloody you are feeling you can put on the most amazing show of happiness. My mother is an expert at that and I’ve picked it up. It kept the wolves from the door.

In 132 Hadrian, now in his late fifties, decided to leave Greece, the country he had placed at the centre of his empire, and turn for home. He had accomplished all that he had ever planned on the greatest stage set the world had ever seen. The council of the Panhellion had been inaugurated with games and religious ceremonies. Athens, basking in the generosity of an emperor who loved her, had never looked more splendid. Alabaster, gilding, bronzes and hundreds of marble columns and statues decorated the restored city, and festivals had been arranged in perpetuity. Great games – more to the Roman taste, of a kind rare in Greece – had been held, where 1,000 exotic animals from all over the empire were slaughtered. The celebrations went on for weeks on end. The cult of Antinous had been established in all the major centres of Greece and Asia minor. The dream of a Roman empire united by Hellenic nostalgia had reached its zenith.

Sex is often centre stage in utopias and dystopias – who can do what, with which set of genital organs, and with whom, being one of humanity’s main preoccupations.

At the Appointed Hour   Andy and I crept in to Fahrib’s chambers through a secret passageway made known to us by the sheik himself. Our only illumination consisted of the dim lights that lined this narrow passageway. The overhead spotlights that were strategically installed in the lounge came on simultaneously when the sound system and the aquarium lights were activated from within the bedchamber. The romantic melodies and illuminances were our cue to take centre stage.               To the unsuspecting onlooker, these spots serve to enhance the colourful aquatic life. But for me and my lover, these were reflectors for the boudoir’s voyeur to espy our erotic performance. If the Almighty would allow us humans to effectuate our stratagem, this would be a win-win situation. For now, Fahrib the voyeur, Tad the stalker, and –we the lovers were invigorated to initiate this treacherous game of suspenseful duplicity.

The only thing comparable to the passengers’ reaction when the captain takes centre stage is a Miley Cyrus meet-and-greet at the height of her Hannah Montana years.

A still more sobering social media example of a different kind, one so important that it could well have influenced the presidential election of 2016, was the cooperation between Cambridge Analytica and Facebook. Cambridge Analytica, a political data firm, was largely the creation of Steve Bannon and his billionaire sponsor, Robert Mercer. One former co-executive referred to Cambridge Analytica as “Bannon’s arsenal of weaponry to wage a culture war on America using military strategies.” Cambridge Analytica combined a particularly vicious version of traditional “dirty tricks” with cutting-edge social media savvy. The dirty tricks, according to its former CEO, Alexander Nix, included bribery, sting operations, the use of prostitutes, and “honey traps” (usually involving sexual behavior, sometimes even initiated for the purposes of obtaining compromising photographs) to discredit politicians on whom it conducted opposition research. The social media savvy included advanced methods developed by the Psychometrics Centre of Cambridge University. Aleksandr Kogan, a young Russian American psychologist working there, created an app that enabled him to gain access to elaborate private information on more than fifty million Facebook users, information specifically identifying personality traits that influenced behavior. Kogan had strong links to Facebook, which failed to block his harvesting of that massive data; he then passed the data along to Cambridge Analytica. Kogan also taught at the Saint Petersburg State University in Russia; and given the links between Cambridge Analytica and Russian groups, the material was undoubtedly made available to Russian intelligence. So extensive was Cambridge Analytica’s collection of data that Nix could boast, “Today in the United States we have somewhere close to 4 or 5 thousand data points on every individual…. So we model the personality of every adult across the United States, some 230 million people.” Whatever his exaggeration, he was describing a new means of milieu control that was invisible and potentially manipulable in the extreme. Beyond Cambridge Analytica or Kogan, Russian penetration of American social media has come to be recognized as a vast enterprise involving extensive falsification and across-the-board anti-Clinton messages, with special attention given to African American men in order to discourage them from voting. The Russians apparently reached millions of people and surely had a considerable influence on the outcome of the election. More generally, one can say that social media platforms can now create a totality of their own, and can make themselves available to would-be owners of reality by means of massive deception, distortion, and promulgation of falsehoods. The technology itself promotes mystification and becomes central to creating and sustaining cultism. Trump is the first president to have available to him these developments in social media. His stance toward the wild conspiracism I have mentioned is to stop short of total allegiance to them, but at the same time to facilitate them and call them forth in his tweets and harbor their followers at his rallies. All of this suggests not only that Trump and the new social media are made for each other, but also that the problem will long outlive Trump’s brief, but all too long, moment on the historical stage.

Ten best quotes of the book, “Miracles Through My Eyes” "Miracles Through My Eyes " by Dinesh Sahay Author- Mentor {This book was published on 23rd October in 2019) 1. “God is always there to fulfil each demand, prayer or wish provided you have intent; unshaken trust in Him, determination and action on the ground, and when this entire manifest in one’s life, then it becomes a miracle of life. Nothing moves without His grace. It comes when you are on the right path without selfish motives but will never happen when done for selfish and destructive motives”. 2. “All diseases are self-creation and they come due to some cause and it transforms into a disease by virtue of wrong thinking, wrong actions which are against nature, the universe and God. When you disobey the rules set by God. All misfortunes, accidents, deceases, and even death are the creation of negative, bad thoughts, spoken words and actions of man himself, at some stage of his life. All good events in life are also the creation of man through his good and positive thoughts at various stages of his life”. 3. “The biggest investments lie not in the savings and creation of wealth with selfish motives. Though you may find success this prosperity shall not be long lasting and at a later stage, the money and wealth may be lost slowly in many unfortunate ways”. 4. “If you want to have a successful life with ease and at the same time want abundance and wealth then my friend, you must care for others. You must start your all efforts to help by means of tithing, charity, service to mankind in any form, and help poor, helpless, needy and underprivileged.” 5. “The largest investment for a person (which is time tested by many rich personalities) shall be to give 10% of your monthly income for the charitable cause each month if you are a salaried class, and if you are a businessman or a company, then you must contribute 10% annually for charitable cause”. 6. “Nature is giving signals to the mankind that they are moving near to destruction of this earth as it’s a cause and effect of man-made destruction of earth and with all sins, hate, untruthfulness and violence it carried throughout the centuries and acted against the principals of the universe and nature. Those connected to the divine may escape from the clutches of death and destruction of the earth. We have witnessed many major catastrophes in the form of Tsunami’s, earthquakes, Tornado’s, Global warming and volcanic eruptions and the world is moving towards it further major happenings in times to come”. 7. “Let us pray for peace and harmony for all humanity and make this world a better place to live by our actions of love, compassion, truthfulness, non-violence, end of terrorism and peace on earth with no wars with any country. Let there will be single governance in the world, the governance of one religion, the religion of love, peace, prosperity and healthy living to all”. 8.” Forgive all the people who often unreasonable, self-centred or accuse you of selfish and forget the all that is said about you. It is your own inner reflection which you see in the outer world. 9. “Thought has a tremendous vibratory force which moves with limitless speed and, makes all creations in man’s life. Each thought vibrates to the frequency with which it was created by a person, whether that was good or bad, travels accordingly through the conscious and subconscious mind in space and the universe. It vibrates with time and energy to produces manifestation in the spiritual and materialistic world of man or woman or matter (thing), in form of events, happenings and creativity”.

Some have called for “degrowth”, a movement that embraces zero or even negative GDP growth that is gaining some traction (at least in the richest countries). As the critique of economic growth moves to centre stage, consumerism’s financial and cultural dominance in public and private life will be overhauled.[42] This is made obvious in consumer-driven degrowth activism in some niche segments – like advocating for less meat or fewer flights. By triggering a period of enforced degrowth, the pandemic has spurred renewed interest in this movement that wants to reverse the pace of economic growth, leading more than 1,100 experts from around the world to release a manifesto in May 2020 putting forward a degrowth strategy to tackle the economic and human crisis caused by COVID-19.[43] Their open letter calls for the adoption of a democratically “planned yet adaptive, sustainable, and equitable downscaling of the economy, leading to a future where we can live better with less”. However, beware of the pursuit of degrowth proving as directionless as the pursuit of growth! The most forward-looking countries and their governments will instead prioritize a more inclusive and sustainable approach to managing and measuring their economies, one that also drives job growth, improvements in living standards and safeguards the planet. The technology to do more with less already exists.[44] There is no fundamental trade-off between economic, social and environmental factors if we adopt this more holistic and longer-term approach to defining progress and incentivizing investment in green and social frontier markets.

In other words, the learner plays a more active role in learning in an emotionally and socially supported environment, creating knowledge, while the teacher’s role is somewhat passive, guiding learners in the knowledge creation process. In pedagogy, this scenario is referred to as a dialectic teaching-learning process. As we can see, the dialectic approach has a deeper and critical focus to learning, while the didactic approach is more likely to produce a surface approach to learning. In the dialectic approach, the delivery is so paced and toned that the learners are in a more emotionally and socially comfortable position to engage in reflective observation and abstract conceptualisation stages of the Kolb’s cycle. We can also see student-centred learning from another important point of view: it is possible that individual students get more attention from the teacher to possibly get individual feedback and individual issues addressed for more purposeful learning and development. Also, the teacher gets to know students individually based on the discussions they engage in, thus getting to know their personality traits, as widely referred to by psychologists, so that appropriate personalised feedback can be provided. This learner-centred approach accommodates for a more authentic learning experience for each student, and at the same time, it caters for a more authentic evaluation of individual students.

Why another book about acting? Isn’t there already a plethora of actor-training methodologies and manuals fighting for centre-stage, tripping over each other to upstage the rest?

I couldn’t imagine what Dad would think seeing his youngest son wrestling another man nude on the main stage at the Arts and Culture Centre. This was not Montreal.

Messrs Hunter's up-to-date woollen mill at Brora deals with the small crofter's single bag of wool sent through the post as well as with the large farmer's flocks and bales, and thus has a personal touch lacking in larger industrial centres. A customer from the Outer Isles, for example, may demand in exchange for the product of her two 'ewe lambs' some knitting wool or maybe a pair of socks. Another would like a jumper, or a blanket of a certain shade. If you want the product of your own sheep for your own wear (and this must surely have a particular charm for the wearer!) that too may be arranged. Here I saw wool in all the stages of washing, teasing, dying, spinning and weaving into colourful tweeds and tartans for Scotland's export trade.

In my view, the best algorithms are the ones that take the human into account at every stage. The ones that recognize our habit of over-trusting the output of a machine, while embracing their own flaws and wearing their uncertainty proudly front and centre.

She looks again at the performance, at how everyone involved is concentrating on the same aim, from the principal dancer spinning centre stage, to the unseen man high in the rafters controlling the spotlight, to the patient percussionist counting out the empty bars of space before his single soft tink on the triangle. It moves her the way that stories about soldiers uniting to go into battle move her, a collective endeavour in service of a single cause. She would like very much to be a part of that. No. She would like very much to be in charge of that.

In dreaming about what he would like to become or achieve, his goals are invariably highly individualistic. He must become the composer, the solo performer, the genius scientist who makes the unique discovery. If he is to be noticed at all, then he must be centre stage. If he can’t be centre stage in an area of interest, then he must withdraw and resort to vitriolic criticism. But in all areas which interest him less he happily leaves to others and observes. With an INTP it is either all or nothing. Half-efforts he dislikes just as much as he dislikes the restrictions of teamwork and co-operation.

leading theory about the origin of the gods argues that gods gained importance because they offered a solution to this problem. Gods such as the fertility goddess, the sky god and the god of medicine took centre stage when plants and animals lost their ability to speak, and the gods’ main role was to mediate between humans and the mute plants and animals. Much of ancient mythology is in fact a legal contract in which humans promise everlasting devotion to the gods in exchange for mastery over plants and animals – the first chapters of the book of Genesis are a prime example. For thousands of years after the Agricultural Revolution, religious liturgy consisted mainly of humans sacrificing lambs, wine and cakes to divine powers, who in exchange promised abundant harvests and fecund flocks.

This distributed efficiency of the market is indeed extraordinary, and attempting to run an economy without it typically leads to short supplies and long queues. It was out of recognition of this power that the neoliberal scriptwriters put the market centre stage in their economic play. There is, however, a flip side to the market’s power: it only values what is priced and only delivers to those who can pay. Like fire, it is extremely efficient at what it does, but dangerous if it gets out of control. When the market is unconstrained, it degrades the living world by over-stressing Earth’s sources and sinks. It also fails to deliver essential public goods—from education and vaccines to roads and railways—on which its own success deeply depends.

Like all best supporting actors, the state may also step centre stage, taking entrepreneurial risks where the market and commons can’t or won’t reach. The extraordinary success of tech companies such as Apple is sometimes held up as evidence of the market’s dynamism. But Mariana Mazzucato, an expert in the economics of government-led innovation, points out that the basic research behind every innovation that makes a smart phone ‘smart’—GPS, microchips, touchscreens and the Internet itself—was funded by the US government. The state, not the market, turns out to have been the innovating, risk-taking partner, not ‘crowding out’ but ‘dynamising in’ private enterprise—and this trend holds across other high-tech industries too, such as pharmaceuticals and biotech.42 In the words of Ha-Joon Chang, ‘If we remain blinded by the free market ideology that tells us only winner-picking by the private sector can succeed, we will end up ignoring a huge range of possibilities for economic development through public leadership or public-private joint efforts.

Adam Smith’s great insight was to show that the marketplace can mobilise diffuse information about people’s wants and the cost of meeting them, thereby coordinating billions of buyers and sellers through a global system of prices – all without the need for a centralised grand plan. This distributed efficiency of the market is indeed extraordinary, and attempting to run an economy without it typically leads to short supplies and long queues. It was out of recognition of this power that the neoliberal scriptwriters put the market centre stage in their economic play. There is, however, a flip side to the market’s power: it only values what is priced and only delivers to those who can pay. Like fire, it is extremely efficient at what it does, but dangerous if it gets out of control. When the market is unconstrained, it degrades the living world by over-stressing Earth’s sources and sinks. It also fails to deliver essential public goods – from education and vaccines to roads and railways – on which its own success deeply depends.

Chapter Summary The Fourth Industrial Revolution is a new chapter in human development, driven by the increasing availability and interaction of a set of extraordinary technologies, building on three previous technological revolutions. This revolution is only in its early stages, which provides humankind with the opportunity and responsibility to shape not just the design of new technologies, but also more agile forms of governance and positive values that will fundamentally change how we live, work and relate to one another. Emerging technologies could provide tremendous benefits to industry and society, but experience from previous industrial revolutions reminds us that to fully realize them, the world must meet three pressing challenges. To attain a prosperous future, we must: Ensure that the benefits of the Fourth Industrial Revolution are distributed fairly Manage the externalities of the Fourth Industrial Revolution in terms of the risks and harm that it causes Ensure that the Fourth Industrial Revolution is human-led and human-centred As leaders grapple with the uncertainty brought about by rapid technological change, adaptation does not require predicting the future. Far more critical is developing a mindset that considers system-level effects, the impact on individuals, which remains future oriented and is aligned with common values across diverse stakeholder groups. So, for the future, the four important principles to keep in mind when thinking about how technologies can create impact are: Systems, not technologies Empowering, not determining By design, not by default Values as a feature, not a bug The regulation, norms and structures for a range of powerful emerging technologies are being developed and implemented today around the world. The time for action is therefore now, and it is up to all citizens to work together to shape the Fourth Industrial Revolution.

Dear reader, I guess there’s a chance – just the tiniest chance – that I might hunt you down. Beforehand I’d always let such a frivolous impulse fade but these days – and I am not proud of this – the pictures lurking in the corners of my mind are gaining in colour, detail and intensity. I fight them, I really do, but the scenario seems to have a life of its own, slowly taking shape and maybe dreaming of the day it gets unleashed into the real world. Becomes flesh and blood, if you like. And despite my very best efforts at restraint, I’m afraid I’ve already started... planning. You know, plotting a bit. Gathering details about your movements and habits. That sort of thing. And if I’m pushed, I might admit to lingering on the finer points of your demise, perhaps even gorging on the sight of your stricken face as I finally take centre stage in your life. You see, I guess I’m just tired of your lack of appreciation. Let’s face it, I’m not exactly the first name on your Christmas card list. I’m still waiting for you to swing by for a cuppa and a few kind words. Hey, a simple email would have been enough. Don’t you know how precious a bit of encouragement can be? And here’s the rub: for as long as I can remember I have been on my knees in front of you only to be treated like the invisible man. You’ve repeatedly ignored my imploring face and open arms, although occasionally you’ve stopped and dallied, causing my heart to skitter wildly. I can’t begin to tell you how much it means to be noticed. It’s so... nourishing. After all, a flower can’t bloom in the dark. But then it dawns on me that you’re not committed to our fledgling relationship. In fact, it’s just a flirtation and soon you’ll be skipping on your merry way. Whatever trifling affection you have shown, it’s clear you’ll never bang the drum for little old me. And don’t think I don’t know about the others. The ones you fawn over. Just tell me – why are you so in thrall with their rampant mediocrity? Hell, maybe they’ve somehow infected you, skewed your take on things and made you unable to sort the wheat from the chaff. Perhaps I should offer condolences but the fact remains that kneeling before you with my heart in my hands only seems to result in you jumping into bed with them. Do you not understand how much love I’ve lavished on you? Call me tetchy, but some days you simply seem unworthy of my great sacrifice. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. All is not lost. For here we are again meeting as equals and this time I know I have your attention. I can only hope you have lost the desire to bait me, or God forbid, spit in my face. So help me. Accept my tender embrace. Or one day, dear reader, you might find the invisible man taking shape right in front of your disbelieving eyes. And you’d only have yourself to blame.

You never had the slightest conception of what happens when bombs are dropped on cities. Even conventional bombs. None of you ever experienced it. Not a single one of you. I walked back from the centre of Berlin to the suburbs one night, after one of the big raids. No transport moving, of course. The whole city on fire. Even the puddles in the streets are burning. They’re puddles of molten phosphorus. It gets on your shoes like some kind of incandescent dog-muck—I have to keep scraping it off—as if the streets have been fouled by the hounds of hell. It would have made you laugh—my shoes keep bursting into flame. All around me, I suppose, there are people trapped, people in various stages of burning to death. And all I can think is, How will I ever get hold of another pair of shoes in times like these?” Excerpt From: Michael Frayn. “Copenhagen

She was aware of it all, a place of magic even in the silent evening dark, and she allowed her breathing to soften, opening herself up to the promise of the night. Then, when she sensed that the others were ready behind her, she turned around to face them. A single candle flickered lightly on the small table they had placed centre stage,

Be unattached. Let things work; let brain centres work, work incessantly, but let not a ripple conquer the mind. Work as if you were a stranger in this land, a sojourner. Work incessantly, but do not bind yourselves. Bondage is terrible. This world is not our habitation. It is only one of the many stages through which we are passing. Remember that great saying of the Sankhya philosophy, "The whole of nature is for the soul, not the soul for nature." The very reason for nature's existence is the education of the soul. Is has no other meaning. It is there because the soul must have knowledge, and through knowledge free itself. If we remember this always, we shall never be attached to nature. We shall know that nature is a book we are to read, and that when we have gained the required knowledge, the book is of no more value to us.

In a time of crisis, the last thing that anyone needs is a centrist position ... a position of uncertainty, doubt, compromise, no clear direction, no conviction, no purpose. We are entering a revolutionary stage that requires a revolutionary response. Revolutions always come from the left or right, and never from the centre, which is the position of stasis, the status quo, business as usual. It’s the position for the fearful.

the inevitable conclusion is that the first wave of Sapiens colonisation was one of the biggest and swiftest ecological disasters to befall the animal kingdom. Hardest hit were the large furry creatures. At the time of the Cognitive Revolution, the planet was home to about 200 genera of large terrestrial mammals weighing over fifty kilograms. At the time of the Agricultural Revolution, only about a hundred remained. Homo sapiens drove to extinction about half of the planet’s big beasts long before humans invented the wheel, writing or iron tools. This ecological tragedy was restaged in miniature countless times after the Agricultural Revolution. The archaeological record of island after island tells the same sad story. The tragedy opens with a scene showing a rich and varied population of large animals, without any trace of humans. In scene two, Sapiens appear, evidenced by a human bone, a spear point, or perhaps a potsherd. Scene three quickly follows, in which men and women occupy centre stage and most large animals, along with many smaller ones, are gone.

Finding a fine British International school can be a challenge if you live in a place like Dubai. Known as a melting pot of cultures, Dubai offers many choices when it comes to curriculum preferences. Digging the web for valuable options can leave in you bind as well. But, to find the right and affordable British school in Dubai you must have a clear picture of the options available. To make your work easier, here is a list to help you pick the best British curriculum school in Dubai. The best British International schools in Dubai Listed below are the top picks of English Schools in Dubai: The Winchester School This English school in Dubai is the right example of high-quality education at affordable rates. The Winchester School is an ideal pick as it maintains the desired level of British curriculum standards and has a KHDA rating as ‘good’. Admission: This school is fully inclusive for kids aged 1-13 and it conducts no entrance exam for foundation level. However, for other phases, necessary entrance tests are taken according to the standard. Also, admissions here do not follow the concept of waiting lists, which can depend on the vacant seats and disability criteria. Fees: AED 12,996- AED 22,996 Curriculum: National Curriculum of England-EYFS(Early Years Foundation Stage), IGCSE, International A-Level, and International AS Level. Location: The Gardens, Jebel Ali Village, Jebel Ali Contact: +971 (0)4 8820444, principal_win@gemsedu.com Website: The Winchester School - Jebel Ali GEMS Wellington Internation School GEMS Wellington Internation School is yet another renowned institute titled the best British curriculum school in Dubai. It has set a record of holding this title for nine years straight which reveals its commendable standards. Admission: For entrance into this school, an online registration process must be completed. A non-refundable fee of AED 500 is applicable for registration. Students of all gender and all stages can enroll in any class from Preschool to 12th Grade. Fees: AED 43,050- AED 93,658 Curriculum: GCSE, IB, IGCSE, BTEC, and IB DP Location: Al South Area Contact: +971 (0)4 3073000, reception_wis@gemsedu.com Website: Outstanding British School in Dubai - GEMS Wellington International School Dubai British School Dubai British School is yet another prestigious institute that is also a member of the ‘Taaleem’ group. It is also one of the first English schools to open and get a KHDA rating of ‘Outstanding’. Thus, it can be easily relied on to provide the curriculum of guaranteed quality. Admission: Here, the application here can be initiated by filling up an online form. Next, the verification requires documents such as copies of UAE Residence Visa, Identification card, Medical Form, Educational Psychologist’s reports, Vaccination report, and TC. Also, students of all genders and ages between 3-18 can apply here. Fees: AED 46,096- AED 69,145 Curriculum: UK National Curriculum, BTEC, GCSE, A LEVEL Location: Behind Spinneys, Springs Town Centre, near Jumeirah Islands. Contact: +971 (0)4 3619361 Website: Dubai British School Emirates Hills | Taaleem School Final takeaways The above-listed schools are some of the best English schools in Dubai that you can find. Apart from these, you can also check King’s School Dubai, Dubai College School, Dubai English Speaking School, etc. These offer the best British curriculum school in Dubai and can be the right picks for you. So, go on and find the right school for your kid.

JULY 20. I've just walked into the opera house. I have no programme. Strange new players are premiering a piece by a flamboyant new composer. Front and centre, three, maybe four, whales begin — a swelling string section — discordant, irresolute harmonies fill the concert hall. Then two more whales, stage right, come in, playing eight octave clarinets, counterpointing the string section. And then they, too, are counterpointed by occasional glissando slurs and passages played pizzicato by whales at the rear of the stage. But suddenly, a programme change: The orchestra members switch clothes and pull new instruments from their cases. The French horn players begin wailing on shiny, sleazy saxophones. The trumpeters spit rapid-fire bursts into an underwater echo chamber — the deep, rocky corridor of Johnstone Strait.