Champion Brand Quotes

Truth is a sport, and winner takes it all. The upcoming truth is under construction.

But they make an enormous difference to the respect the person commands in his or her social circle. To express the wrong opinion on a politicized issue can make one an oddball at best—someone who “doesn’t get it”—and a traitor at worst. The pressure to conform becomes all the greater as people live and work with others who are like them and as academic, business, or religious cliques brand themselves with left-wing or right-wing causes. For pundits and politicians with a reputation for championing their faction, coming out on the wrong side of an issue would be career suicide. Given these payoffs, endorsing a belief that hasn’t passed muster with science and fact-checking isn’t so irrational after all—at least, not by the criterion of the immediate effects on the believer. The

And I *know* I wrote in the above that I hate biographies and reviews that focus on the psychological, surface detail, especially when they pertain to women writers, because I think it’s really about the cult of the personality, which is essentially problematic, and I think simplistically psychologizing which biographies are so wont to do is really problematic, and dangerous, especially when dealing with complicated women who just by being writers at a certain time and age were labelled as nonconformist, or worse, hysterical or ill or crazy, and I think branding these women as femme fatales is all so often done. And I know in a way I’m contributing to this by posting their bad-ass photos, except hopefully I am humanizing them and thinking of them as complicated selves and intellects AND CELEBRATING THEM AS WRITERS as opposed to straight-up objectifying. One particular review long ago in Poetry that really got my goat was when Brian Phillips used Gertrude Stein’s line about Djuna Barnes having nice ankles as an opener in a review of her poetry, and to my mind it was meant to be entirely dismissive, as of course, Stein was being as well. Stein was many important revolutionary things to literature, but a champion of her fellow women writers she was not. They published my letter, but then let the guy write a reply and scurry to the library and actually read Nightwood, one of my all-time, all-times, and Francis Bacon’s too, there’s another anecdote. And it’s burned in my brain his response, which was as dismissive and bourgeois as the review. I don’t remember the exact wordage, but he concluded by summing up that Djuna Barnes was a minor writer. Well, fuck a duck, as Henry Miller would say. And that is how the canon gets made.

As I became older, I was given many masks to wear. I could be a laborer laying railroad tracks across the continent, with long hair in a queue to be pulled by pranksters; a gardener trimming the shrubs while secretly planting a bomb; a saboteur before the day of infamy at Pearl Harbor, signaling the Imperial Fleet; a kamikaze pilot donning his headband somberly, screaming 'Banzai' on my way to my death; a peasant with a broad-brimmed straw hat in a rice paddy on the other side of the world, stooped over to toil in the water; an obedient servant in the parlor, a houseboy too dignified for my own good; a washerman in the basement laundry, removing stains using an ancient secret; a tyrant intent on imposing my despotism on the democratic world, opposed by the free and the brave; a party cadre alongside many others, all of us clad in coordinated Mao jackets; a sniper camouflaged in the trees of the jungle, training my gunsights on G.I. Joe; a child running with a body burning from napalm, captured in an unforgettable photo; an enemy shot in the head or slaughtered by the villageful; one of the grooms in a mass wedding of couples, having met my mate the day before through our cult leader; an orphan in the last airlift out of a collapsed capital, ready to be adopted into the good life; a black belt martial artist breaking cinderblocks with his head, in an advertisement for Ginsu brand knives with the slogan 'but wait--there's more' as the commercial segued to show another free gift; a chef serving up dog stew, a trick on the unsuspecting diner; a bad driver swerving into the next lane, exactly as could be expected; a horny exchange student here for a year, eager to date the blonde cheerleader; a tourist visiting, clicking away with his camera, posing my family in front of the monuments and statues; a ping pong champion, wearing white tube socks pulled up too high and batting the ball with a wicked spin; a violin prodigy impressing the audience at Carnegie Hall, before taking a polite bow; a teen computer scientist, ready to make millions on an initial public offering before the company stock crashes; a gangster in sunglasses and a tight suit, embroiled in a turf war with the Sicilian mob; an urban greengrocer selling lunch by the pound, rudely returning change over the counter to the black patrons; a businessman with a briefcase of cash bribing a congressman, a corrupting influence on the electoral process; a salaryman on my way to work, crammed into the commuter train and loyal to the company; a shady doctor, trained in a foreign tradition with anatomical diagrams of the human body mapping the flow of life energy through a multitude of colored points; a calculus graduate student with thick glasses and a bad haircut, serving as a teaching assistant with an incomprehensible accent, scribbling on the chalkboard; an automobile enthusiast who customizes an imported car with a supercharged engine and Japanese decals in the rear window, cruising the boulevard looking for a drag race; a illegal alien crowded into the cargo hold of a smuggler's ship, defying death only to crowd into a New York City tenement and work as a slave in a sweatshop. My mother and my girl cousins were Madame Butterfly from the mail order bride catalog, dying in their service to the masculinity of the West, and the dragon lady in a kimono, taking vengeance for her sisters. They became the television newscaster, look-alikes with their flawlessly permed hair. Through these indelible images, I grew up. But when I looked in the mirror, I could not believe my own reflection because it was not like what I saw around me. Over the years, the world opened up. It has become a dizzying kaleidoscope of cultural fragments, arranged and rearranged without plan or order.

The wonderful thing about life is that tomorrow is a brand new day. At

Anger provides the No. 1 difference between a fist-fight and a boxing bout. Anger is an unwelcome guest in any department of boxing. From the first time a chap draws on gloves as a beginner, he is taught to "keep his temper"-never to "lose his head." When a boxer gives way to anger, he becomes a "natural" fighter who tosses science into the bucket. When that occurs in the amateur or professional ring, the lost-head fighter leaves himself open and becomes an easy target for a sharpshooting opponent. Because an angry fighter usually is a helpless fighter in the ring, many prominent professionals-like Abe Attell and the late Kid McCoy- tried to taunt fiery opponents into losing their heads and "opening up." Anger rarely flares in a boxing match. Different, indeed, is the mental condition governing a fist-fight. In that brand of combat, anger invariably is the fuel propelling one or both contestants. And when an angry, berserk chap is whaling away in a fist-fight, he usually forgets all about rules-if he ever knew any. That brings us to difference No. 2: THE REFEREE ENFORCES THE RULES IN A BOXING MATCH; BUT THERE ARE NO OFFICIALS AT A FIST-FIGHT. Since a fist-fight has no supervision, it can develop into a roughhouse affair in which anything goes. There's no one to prevent low blows, butting, kicking, eye-gouging, biting and strangling. When angry fighters fall into a clinch, there's no one to separate them. Wrestling often ensues. A fellow may be thrown to earth, floor, or pavement. He can be hammered when down, or even be "given the boots"- kicked in the faceunless some humane bystander interferes. And you can't count on bystanders. A third difference is this: A FIST-FIGHT IS NOT PRECEDED BY MATCHMAKING. In boxing, matches are made according to weights and comparative abilities. For example, if you're an amateur or professional lightweight boxer, you'll probably be paired off against a chap of approximately your poundage-one who weighs between 126 and 135 pounds. And you'll generally be matched with a fellow whose ability is rated about on a par with your own, to insure an interesting bout and to prevent injury to either. If you boast only nine professional fights, there's little danger of your being tossed in with a top-flighter or a champion.

Roughly ten percent of modern French words come from Frankish, including words describing home life, clothing, war and emotions, such as fauteuil (armchair), gant (glove), robe (dress), champion, guerre (war), muraille (wall), falaise (cliff), émoi (emotion), honte (shame) and orgueil (pride). Although eighty percent of the words in modern French have Latin or Gallo-Roman roots, the Frankish influence explains why French went on to become the most Germanic of Latin-based languages. The Franks also created a strong “brand”—until the tenth century the king in Paris was called King of the Franks. Germans to this day call France Frankreich (empire of the Franks). Over the centuries the language of the Franks gradually came to be known as Françoys. All languages have three parts: phonetics (pronunciation), grammar and a lexicon (vocabulary), and each part changes constantly.

These are the boys of Pointe du Hoc. These are the men who took the cliffs. These are the champions who helped free a continent. These are the heroes who helped end a war.

Brand championed a concept, abandoned by many later virtual communities, that was critical to making The WELL a seminal service. The participants could not be totally anonymous; they could use a handle or pseudonym, but they had to provide their real name when they joined, and other members could know who they were. Brand’s credo, which popped up on the opening screen, was “You own your own words.” You were accountable for what you posted.

It's pointless to spend millions on advertising before ensuring that the promise keepers (employees) understand and can keep the promises made by the promise makers

Hello, friends, it’s a brand new day & guess what? We get to own it! Let’s ditch the dreaminess (slothfulness) & charge out of the starting gate like the champions we are! Darling listen – you weren’t born to just exist, to wait for each minute to unfold. You Were Born To Conquer, To Be Consequential & Champion! Therefore, sweetheart, ditch the “wait & see” attitude & start doing things not bcoz they feel ‘good’ or are “easy” but bcoz they represent who you can be & want to be. Today I wish & hope that you have the opportunity to fully explore your real potential & to be ALL you came here to be. Wishing you continued success & happiness. Blessings!

Since Antifa absorbed the Left’s radical feminism, Trump’s promise to champion the pro-life cause also branded him as a fascist (since, again, “fascist” now meant anyone who disagrees with all the positions of the Left).

Pacific Air Compressors has been proudly serving our customers locally and worldwide for over 30 years. Located in Portland, Oregon, we sell industrial air compressors, dryers, filter/elements, vacuum pumps, and replacement parts for top brands including Arrow Pneumatic, Beko, Belair, Campbell Hausfeld, Champion, Curtis, Devilbiss, Gardner Denver, Hankison, Ingersoll Rand, Jenny, Kellogg, La-Man, LeRoi, Palatek, Quincy, Rolair, Sullivan, Wayne and many more.

we haven’t updated the countertops yet. We are getting embarrassed over all the wrong things! Social norms and acceptance are not really what we should be embarrassed about. What if, instead of being embarrassed over the brand of our clothing, we became embarrassed over the enormity of our walk-in closet? What if, instead of being embarrassed over the type of car we drive, we became embarrassed over how often we take the luxury of automobile ownership for granted? What if, instead of being embarrassed because our house seems too small, we became embarrassed over the amount of unused space within it? What if, instead of being embarrassed over the quality and quantity of our possessions, we became embarrassed over how much money we have spent on our own selfish pursuits? What if excess became the cause of embarrassment? And responsible living that championed generosity became the norm? Maybe then we could become a little more proud of “normal.” Are you buying too many things and spending too much money because you want others to like and accept you? Change your view of what’s acceptable and what’s normal, and you will be freed from embarrassment and freed to make more of a positive difference in this

While marketing strategies drive short-term results, branding strategies cultivate long-term loyalty, turning students, staff, parents and other stakeholders into loyal ambassadors who champion the school's mission and values

Hope and Story is an online destination for conscious consumers looking for British Made products and brands with ethics, sustainability and quality at their heart. However, we exist to be more than just a marketplace. We aim to redefine ‘British Made’, support inspired makers and champion our community.

Every day, in every way, I'm getting better and better and better." "Every day, in every way, I'm getting stronger and stronger and stronger." "Every day, in every way, I'm getting healthier and healthier and healthier." "Today is a brand new day. Today is going to be a great, great, great day." "I am optimistic. I look at the bright side of life. I create my own opportunities and take action to make things happen. So it is." "I am a champion. I am born to win, and I am destined to succeed. So it is." "I am special and unique; a priceless treasure on the face of the earth. I am one of a kind, the rarest thing in creation. So it is." "I am happy, healthy, and prosperous.

The desire for meaning. Viktor Frankl was right when he contended with Sigmund Freud, insinuating that the chief desire of man is not pleasure but meaning. In fact, in his book Man’s Search for Meaning, Frankl argued convincingly that man was actually most tempted to distract himself with pleasure when his life was void of meaning.1 So how do we offer potential customers a sense of meaning? Not unlike giving our customers the opportunity to be generous, we invite them to participate in something greater than themselves. A movement. A cause to champion. A valiant fight against a real villain, be that villain flesh and blood or a harmful philosophy.