Congratulations On Your Doctorate Quotes

Everyone is Annawadi talks like this- oh, I will make my child a doctor, a lawyer, and he will make us rich. It's vanity, nothing more. Your little boat goes west and you congratulate yourself, "What a navigator I am!" And then the wind blows you east. -ABDUL'S FATHER, KARAM HUSAIN

When we come to these all-white spaces, we have to be tough. We can’t show any weakness. I know that’s difficult, but that’s the way it is, and that’s why I’m so hard on you. And I will continue to be hard on you, Ailey, because I want to prepare you for what’s coming. It’s gone be the Thrilla in Manila when you enter the doctoral program. They will throw everything they have at you. If you fail, they’ll say, oh, that’s too bad. You just weren’t smart enough. If you succeed and earn the degree, despite all the obstacles they put up, they’ll take credit for your success and congratulate themselves for fostering a nonprejudiced environment. But, Ailey, you aren’t going to fail, because I am going to help you with every ounce of power that I have, all while pretending that I’m not helping you. For example, you and I never had this conversation. Do you understand

STEP TWO: REVIEW YOUR EDUCATION If you’ve read this book, congratulations! You’ve given yourself a tremendous education. But knowledge isn’t power; it’s potential power. Decide what tools do you want to access today. And what do you want to keep track of in the future? 1. Are stem cells something that you want to pursue for some aspect of your life or for someone in your family? 2. Do you want to implement Dr. Sinclair’s Four Vitality Ingredients that help reverse biological aging? Or tap into the energy force of NMN? 3. Or, are there some technologies that you’ll want to keep track of so that you have them when you need them? Perhaps the Wnt Pathway for Osteoarthritis? 4. Is there anyone in your family or people you know whom you want to share information with about what you’ve learned here in the big 6—heart disease, diabetes/obesity, stroke, cancer, autoimmune disease, and Alzheimer’s? 5. Are you going to keep track of Gene Therapy and CRISPR and some of the transformations it’s creating? 6. Do you know anyone who has Parkinson’s or severe addiction who could feel relief from focused Ultrasound without brain surgery? Make a list of the things that you want to act on and things you want to keep track of, so that if you or anyone you know who needs help, you’ll have answers that you can share with them and that they can consider with their doctor. Just create a little checklist for yourself. The book is here. It’s the ultimate resource you can go back to as often as you need.

Getting more into one-on-one therapy helped. It helped me to keep going, and it helped me to quit drinking. I almost feel it’s mandatory in my position. C’mon, buddy, you’ve got to get your head shrunk. Because your head gets so big, you need to shrink it. You need to go to some guy who’s going to tell you what you already know about yourself and pay attention to you for an hour straight. Which we all like. We all need a little attention. The first time I ever considered therapy was back in Boston, during my run in Richard III. I was staying at our director David Wheeler’s house for a few days, and he came into my room one morning to share some good news with me. “Hey, Al!” he said. “You just won the National Board of Review!” It was my first major film award for The Godfather. I said to him, in the softest voice I could summon up, “I was going to ask you, David, do you have the name of a psychiatrist? Because I need one.” That was my answer to him. Not that I was unhappy about winning such a prestigious award, but there were just other things on my mind. I saw a psychiatrist in Boston first, and then I went and got myself a guy in New York. I fell in love with the process, and I got to a point where I was in therapy five days a week at certain times. I highly recommend therapy if you’re at all leaning in that direction. Maybe you don’t need it five times a week, but give it a whirl. There’s an old story: A woman goes to a therapist for years. It’s her last appointment, because she feels she’s come to a great place in her life and is ready to move on. She wants to congratulate her therapist and say goodbye. So she tells him, “You’ve done so much good for me. I love my husband so much. Every day with my kids is just a joy. My work is going off the charts. I’m seeing a whole new side of life. You’ve been so wonderful. I never hear you speak. You just take it all in. Please tell me, how did you do it?” The doctor looks at her and says, “No habla inglés.” That’s an interpretation of therapy too; you need to talk and get it out. When I was living with Jill, before I ever went to therapy, I used to just sit in the bathtub alone and talk about things. I cleared my mind to myself. It’s an unusual relationship that you forge when you find a good doctor, someone you feel has that kind of commitment to you. And then they take some colossal amount of time off, and you don’t see them for the whole summer. I had one of those episodes when I couldn’t find my doctor. I might have been spared about twenty years of tsuris if I could have avoided it. It’s a good idea that when your psychiatrist goes away, you know where they are and you can call them when you’re in trouble. They need rest too. I can deal with, “Hey, my daughter’s graduating college, I’ll be out for a few days.” But going up a fucking river somewhere, to not be available for, like, six weeks? Come on, my life was capable of going right off the rails in far less time than that. I used to have recurring dreams in which I go to my psychiatrist’s office but can’t find him anywhere. He’s in the building, but he’s unavailable. I’m at the door, but there’s not even a buzzer I can press to let him know I’m there and no way to let me in. That was my dream. Now I have that feeling about my agent.

When do you suppose you’re due?” “How did you guess?” “I’ve never seen Luke act like this—hovering, protective, sweet.” “Annoying, cloying and paternal. I don’t have a date—I haven’t been to the doctor yet. But I suspect it happened on the wedding night, just as Luke planned.” Aiden laughed. “You’re going to want to watch that. Unless you want six of them.” “Oh, I might have two, but not six.” She grinned. “Snip, snip.” “Have to admire a forward-thinking woman,” Aiden said with a grin. “Congratulations.” “I

Dear Mrs. Winslow, How well I remember the summer of your honeymoon. It was a wonderful summer, so refreshingly pleasant in the mountains in a locked room with windows that were never opened. Congratulations and my very best wishes, Mrs. Winslow, and I do hope all your future summers, winters, springs and falls will be haunted by the memory of the kind of summers, winters, springs and falls your Dresden dolls used to have. Not yours anymore, The doctor doll, The ballerina doll, The praying-to-grow-taller doll, And the dead doll.

Uggggh …” groaned Alex, clutching her stomach. She had one more cake left in her pile, but her opponent had one more cake in his pile as well, and he’d already started to eat it. Alex’s eyes were rolling into the back of her head, and her skin was even paler than usual. “Alex, you can give up if you want to,” said Dave. “Don’t make yourself sick.” “Yes, we won’t think any less of you, dear girl,” said Porkins. “I’ll think less of you,” said Carl. “Carl!” said Dave. “What?” said Carl, shrugging. “I’m only being honest.” The elderly cowman was halfway through his last cake, and Alex hadn’t even started hers. It’s all over, thought Dave. There’s no way that Alex can catch up. Alex looked like she was going to pass out at any moment, but then, finding strength from somewhere, she picked up her final cake and opened her mouth wide. FLOOOONCH!!!!!! To Dave’s amazement, Alex shoved the entire cake into her mouth. Her cheeks were so stuffed full of cake that her head was about twice as wide as it usually was. Then, with a large gulp, she swallowed the cake down whole. She opened her mouth to show everyone that the cake was gone. “We have a winner!” The cowman hosting the competition shouted. Everyone in the inn let out an enormous cheer. The elderly cowman dropped the remainder of his cake on the table, admitting defeat. “Well done, dear girl!” Porkins said to Alex. “Yeah, well done, Alex,” said Carl. “If ever I need someone to eat a big pile of cakes, you’ll be the first person I ask.” “I still think this whole competition was completely foolish,” said Spidroth. “Nevertheless, Alex, I congratulate you on your victory. Like a true warrior, you bested all your opponents, showing them no mercy.” “Uggghh …” groaned Alex. Then she fainted, her face hitting the table. “Alex!” yelled Dave, rushing over to her. “Is anyone here a healer?” “I am,” said a cowman with grey fur, rushing over. “What’s wrong with her, Doctor?” asked Porkins. “My diagnosis is that she’s eaten too many cakes,” said the cowman healer, lifting Alex’s head. “I could have told you that,” said Carl, rolling his eyes. “What should we do with her?” asked Dave. “I think a good night’s rest should do the trick,” said the healer. “Are you sure you’re a healer?” said Carl. “None of this advice seems very professional.

Undercitizens Everybody in Annawadi talks like this— oh, I will make my child a doctor, a lawyer, and he will make us rich. It’s vanity, nothing more. Your little boat goes west and you congratulate yourself, “What a navigator I am!” And then the wind blows you east.