Container Transport Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Container Transport. Here they are! All 71 of them:

Your job then, should you choose to accept it, is to keep searching for the metaphors, rituals and teachers that will help you move ever closer to divinity. The Yogic scriptures say that God responds to the sacred prayers and efforts of human beings in any way whatsoever that mortals choose to worship—just so long as those prayers are sincere. I think you have every right to cherry-pick when it comes to moving your spirit and finding peace in God. I think you are free to search for any metaphor whatsoever which will take you across the worldly divide whenever you need to be transported or comforted. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's the history of mankind's search for holiness. If humanity never evolved in its exploration of the divine, a lot of us would still be worshipping golden Egyptian statues of cats. And this evolution of religious thinking does involve a fair bit of cherry-picking. You take whatever works from wherever you can find it, and you keep moving toward the light. The Hopi Indians thought that the world's religions each contained one spiritual thread, and that these threads are always seeking each other, wanting to join. When all the threads are finally woven together they will form a rope that will pull us out of this dark cycle of history and into the next realm. More contemporarily, the Dalai Lama has repeated the same idea, assuring his Western students repeatedly that they needn't become Tibetan Buddhists in order to be his pupils. He welcomes them to take whatever ideas they like out of Tibetan Buddhism and integrate these ideas into their own religious practices. Even in the most unlikely and conservative of places, you can find sometimes this glimmering idea that God might be bigger than our limited religious doctrines have taught us. In 1954, Pope Pius XI, of all people, sent some Vatican delegates on a trip to Libya with these written instructions: "Do NOT think that you are going among Infidels. Muslims attain salvation, too. The ways of Providence are infinite." But doesn't that make sense? That the infinite would be, indeed ... infinite? That even the most holy amongst us would only be able to see scattered pieces of the eternal picture at any given time? And that maybe if we could collect those pieces and compare them, a story about God would begin to emerge that resembles and includes everyone? And isn't our individual longing for transcendence all just part of this larger human search for divinity? Don't we each have the right to not stop seeking until we get as close to the source of wonder as possible? Even if it means coming to India and kissing trees in the moonlight for a while? That's me in the corner, in other words. That's me in the spotlight. Choosing my religion.
Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love)
She had forgotten them all; forgotten Richard down in the mud, and the marquis and his foolish crossbow, and the world. She was delighted and transported, in a perfect place, the world she lived for. Her world contained two things: Hunter, and the Beast. The Beast knew that too. It was the perfect match, the hunter and the hunted. And who was who, and which was which, only time would reveal; time and the dance.
Neil Gaiman (Neverwhere (London Below, #1))
I would pretend that I was in a glass box - that I was in this glass container that no one could see, and it protected me. At night I would open the door and get out of the box to go to bed. In the morning, I stepped into it and closed the latch. I dreamed that I would somehow be transported - that all this sadness and fear would actually fuel this glass box and carry me home.
Sarah Silverman (The Bedwetter: Stories of Courage, Redemption, and Pee)
Allowing ourselves to become pure point of view, we hang in midair over the city. What we see now is a gigantic metropolis waking up. Commuter trains of many colors move in all directions, transporting people from place to place. Each of those under transport is a human being with a different face and mind, and at the same time each is a nameless part of the collective identity. Each is simultaneously a self-contained whole and a mere part. Handling this dualism of theirs skillfully and advantageously, they perform their morning rituals with deftness and precision: brushing teeth, shaving, tying neckties, applying lipstick. They check the morning news on TV, exchange words with their families, eat, defecate.
Haruki Murakami (After Dark)
Faith is the substance that God used to create the universe, and He transported that faith with His words. God used His words as containers to transport His faith out there into the vast nothingness, into the darkness. He said, ''Light, be!" (Gen. 1:3.) And light was!
Charles Capps (Changing the Seen and Shaping the Unseen)
By far the biggest expense in this process was shifting the cargo from land transport to ship at the port of departure and moving it back to truck
Marc Levinson (The Box: How the Shipping Container Made the World Smaller and the World Economy Bigger)
But what Andy never understood about him was this: he was an optimist. Every month, every week, he chose to open his eyes, to live another day in the world. He did it when he was feeling so awful that sometimes the pain seemed to transport him to another state, one in which everything, even the past that he worked so hard to forget, seemed to fade into a gray watercolor wash. He did it when his memories crowded out all other thoughts, when it took real effort, real concentration, to tether himself to his current life, to keep himself from raging with despair and shame. He did it when he was so exhausted of trying, when being awake and alive demanded such energy that he had to lie in bed thinking of reasons to get up and try again, when it would be much easier to go to the bathroom and untape the plastic zipped bag containing his cotton pads and loose razors and alcohol wipes and bandages from its hiding place beneath the sink and simply surrender. Those were the very bad days. It
Hanya Yanagihara (A Little Life)
Surely, though, I must have stolen into the future and landed in an H.G. Wells-style world - a horrific, fantastic society in which people's faces contained only eyes, millions of healthy young adults and children dropped dead from the flu, boys got transported out of the country to be blown to bits, and the government arrested citizens for speaking the wrong words. Such a place couldn't be real. And it couldn't be the United States of America, "the land of the free and the home of the brave." But it was. I was on a train in my own country, in a year the devil designed. 1918.
Cat Winters (In the Shadow of Blackbirds)
But what Andy never understood about him was this: he was an optimist. Every month, every week, he chose to open his eyes, to live another day in the world. He did it when he was feeling so awful that sometimes the pain seemed to transport him to another state, one in which everything, even the past that he worked so hard to forget, seemed to fade into a gray watercolor wash. He did it when his memories crowded out all other thoughts, when it took real effort, real concentration, to tether himself to his current life, to keep himself from raging with despair and shame. He did it when he was so exhausted of trying, when being awake and alive demanded such energy that he had to lie in bed thinking of reasons to get up and try again, when it would be much easier to go to the bathroom and untape the plastic zipped bag containing his cotton pads and loose razors and alcohol wipes and bandages from its hiding place beneath the sink and simply surrender. Those were the very bad days.
Hanya Yanagihara (A Little Life)
This presence of God so inflamed and transported him that it was difficult for him to contain himself. He said he was more united to God in his outward work, than when he left it for devotion in seclusion.
Marshall Davis (The Practice of the Presence of God In Modern English)
The total average cost of driving, including depreciation, maintenance, and insurance, runs about 61 cents a mile, and since the average automobile used for commuting to work contains only 1.1 people, every commute costs a little more than 55 cents per passenger mile. This means that, if you’re an automobile commuter traveling twenty-five miles each way to work, you’re spending around $30 a day for the privilege, not including the cost, if there is one, to park. You’re also spending an hour every day for which, unless you’re a cabbie or bus driver yourself, you’re not getting paid, and during which you’re not doing anything productive at all. For the average American, that’s another $24. In transportation, time really is money.
Samuel I. Schwartz (Street Smart: The Rise of Cities and the Fall of Cars)
I emphasise it now; I had little-to-nothing in common with other people. Their values I did not comprehend, their ideals were to me a living horror. Call it ostentatious but I even sought to provide tangible proof of my withdrawal from the world. I posted a sign in the entrance to the building wherein I dwelt; a sign that indicated I had no wish to be disturbed by anyone, for any purpose whatsoever. As these convictions took hold of me and, as I denied, nay even repudiated, the hold that the current society of men possesses over its ranks, as I retreated into a hermitage of the imagination, disentangling my own concerns from those paramount to the age in which I happened to be born, an age with no claim to be more enlightened, significant or progressive than any other, I tried to make a stand for the spirit. Tyranny, in this land, I was told, was dead. But I contend that the replacement of one form of tyranny with another is still tyranny. The secret police now operate not via the use of brute force in dark underground cells; they operate instead by a process of open brainwashing that is impossible to avoid altogether. The torture cells are not secret; they are everywhere, and so ubiquitous that they are no longer seen for what they are. One may abandon television; one may abandon all forms of broadcast media, even the Internet, but the advertising hoardings in every street, on vehicles, inside transport centres, are still there. And they contain the same messages. Only the very rich can avoid their clutches utterly. Those who have obtained sufficient wealth may choose their own surroundings, free from the propaganda of a decayed futurity. And yet, and yet, in order to obtain such a position of freedom it is first necessary to have served the ideals of the tyranny slavishly, thereby validating it. ("The Tower")
Mark Samuels (Best New Horror 23 (The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror, #23))
Portagioie, the Italian word for jewelry box, is a compound of two polyvalent words. Gioia (pl. gioie) means both “joy” and “jewel.” Porta, meanwhile, derives from the Latin verb portāre, and belongs to a constellation of words pertaining to acts of bearing, bringing, carrying, and transporting, which in turn give rise to terms for “door,” “gate,” and “port.” Portagioie, therefore, could also be interpreted, in Italian, not only as a box of jewels, but a container of joy, a doorway or gateway to joy, something that brings joy.
Jhumpa Lahiri (Whereabouts)
Russia is not an Asian power for many reasons. Although 75 per cent of its territory is in Asia, only 22 per cent of its population lives there. Siberia may be Russia’s ‘treasure chest’, containing the majority of the mineral wealth, oil, and gas, but it is a harsh land, freezing for months on end, with vast forests (taiga), poor soil for farming and large stretches of swampland. Only two railway networks run west to east – the Trans-Siberian and the Baikal–Amur Mainline. There are few transport routes leading north to south and so no easy way for Russia to project power southward into modern Mongolia or China: it lacks the manpower and supply lines to do so.
Tim Marshall (Prisoners of Geography: Ten Maps That Tell You Everything You Need to Know About Global Politics)
wrongly taught that fruit can cause weight gain due to its sugar content and that starchy vegetables such as squash and potatoes are “bad” because they contain so many carbohydrates. Much to the contrary, fruits and vegetables contain a wealth of nutrients that support cellular health and facilitate the transportation of water into the cells for use.
Howard Murad (The Water Secret: The Cellular Breakthrough to Look and Feel 10 Years Younger)
As I continue to sip at the chest-warming liquor, entering ever-deeper states of inebriation, a mauldin thought begins to take shape in my whiskey-addled skull. My notion is this: We are each of us our own container ship, transporting our various cargoes through the ocean of life. At ports along the way, we may stop and pick up a new lover, a spouse, a child. At other ports we unload precious items - friends move away, relationships end, parents die. Even when we’re lost in the deepest fog, we must try to keep our watch, not be the cause of any tragic collisions, and to do what we can to keep our cargo safe. In the end, of course, your ship rusts out and is not longer seaworthy. So, I suppose, in this analogy, the afterlife equates to being bought by a Greek shipping line.
Seth Stevenson (Grounded: A Down to Earth Journey Around the World)
She had forgotten them all; forgotten Richard down in the mud, and the Marquis and his foolish crossbow, and the world. She was delighted and transported, in a perfect place, the world she lived for. Her world contained two things: Hunter, and the Beast. The Beast knew that too. It was the perfect match, the hunter, and the hunted. And who was who, and which was which, only time would reveal; time and the dance. The
Neil Gaiman (Neverwhere)
And to expand on what you were saying about books, I think they are very much alive. They have the power to spark ideas, breathe life into the nonexistent, and transport us to another realm. The books in this library happen to be a bit more outwardly cunning than those found in mortals’ libraries, although even those volumes are full of power. These books just happen to know that they contain greatness and guard it from us, maybe waiting to decide if we’re ready and worthy for the wisdom they offer.” Liv let out a
Sarah Noffke (The Uncooperative Warrior (Unstoppable Liv Beaufont, #2))
If blood-sugar levels increase—say, after a meal containing carbohydrates—then more glucose is transported into the fat cells, which increases the use of this glucose for fuel, and so increases the production of glycerol phosphate. This is turn increases the conversion of fatty acids into triglycerides, so that they’re unable to escape into the bloodstream at a time when they’re not needed. Thus, elevating blood sugar serves to decrease the concentration of fatty acids in the blood, and to increase the accumulated fat in the fat cells.
Gary Taubes (Good Calories, Bad Calories: Challenging the Conventional Wisdom on Diet, Weight Control, and Disease)
Whatever its European credentials, Russia is not an Asian power for many reasons. Although 75 per cent of its territory is in Asia, only 22 per cent of its population lives there. Siberia may be Russia’s ‘treasure chest’, containing the majority of the mineral wealth, oil, and gas, but it is a harsh land, freezing for months on end, with vast forests (taiga), poor soil for farming and large stretches of swampland. Only two railway networks run west to east – the Trans-Siberian and the Baikal–Amur Mainline. There are few transport routes leading north to south and so no easy way for Russia to project power southward into modern Mongolia or China: it lacks the manpower and supply lines to do so.
Tim Marshall (Prisoners of Geography: Ten Maps That Tell You Everything You Need to Know About Global Politics)
Make a List (or lists) • Make a list of all the things that you can look at and think: Why did we even bother to move that the last time? Now will be your last and best chance to give or throw away unwanted items until your next move (5-7 years on average). Give unwanted clothes, furniture, kitchen items, etc. to a charity that allows you to use your donation as a tax write-off. Yard sales are another option. • Make a list (and/or get one online) of household hazardous materials. These are common items in your home that are not or might not be safe to transport: flammables like propane tanks (even empty ones), gasoline or kerosene, aerosols or compressed gases (hair spray, spray paint), cleaning fluids in plastic containers (bleach, ammonia) and pesticides (bug spray) and herbicides (weed killer) and caustics like lye or pool acid. There is more likely to be damage caused by leakage of cleaning fluids-- like bleach--than there is by damage caused by a violent explosion or fire in your truck. The problem lies in the fact that any leaking fluid is going to drip its way to the floor and spread out--even in the short time span of your move and more so if you are going up and down hills. Aerosols can explode in the summer heat as can propane BBQ tanks. Gasoline from lawnmowers and pesticide vapors expand in the heat and can permeate everything in the truck. Plastic containers that have been opened can expand and contract with a change in temperature and altitude and crack.
Jerry G. West (The Self-Mover's Bible: A Comprehensive Illustrated Guide to DIY Moving Written by Professional Furniture Mover Jerry G. West)
In early 2016, Amazon was given a license by the Federal Maritime Commission to implement ocean freight services as an Ocean Transportation Intermediary. So, Amazon can now ship others’ goods. This new service, dubbed Fulfillment by Amazon (FBA), won’t do much directly for individual consumers. But it will allow Amazon’s Chinese partners to more easily and cost-effectively get their products across the Pacific in containers. Want to bet how long it will take Amazon to dominate the oceanic transport business? 67 The market to ship stuff (mostly) across the Pacific is a $ 350 billion business, but a low-margin one. Shippers charge $ 1,300 to ship a forty-foot container holding up to 10,000 units of product (13 cents per unit, or just under $ 10 to deliver a flatscreen TV). It’s a down-and-dirty business, unless you’re Amazon. The biggest component of that cost comes from labor: unloading and loading the ships and the paperwork. Amazon can deploy hardware (robotics) and software to reduce these costs. Combined with the company’s fledgling aircraft fleet, this could prove another huge business for Amazon. 68 Between drones, 757/ 767s, tractor trailers, trans-Pacific shipping, and retired military generals (no joke) who oversaw the world’s most complex logistics operations (try supplying submarines and aircraft carriers that don’t surface or dock more than once every six months), Amazon is building the most robust logistics infrastructure in history. If you’re like me, this can only leave you in awe: I can’t even make sure I have Gatorade in the fridge when I need it.
Scott Galloway (The Four: The Hidden DNA of Amazon, Apple, Facebook, and Google)
It is now time to face the fact that English is a crazy language — the most loopy and wiggy of all tongues. In what other language do people drive in a parkway and park in a driveway? In what other language do people play at a recital and recite at a play? Why does night fall but never break and day break but never fall? Why is it that when we transport something by car, it’s called a shipment, but when we transport something by ship, it’s called cargo? Why does a man get a hernia and a woman a hysterectomy? Why do we pack suits in a garment bag and garments in a suitcase? Why do privates eat in the general mess and generals eat in the private mess? Why do we call it newsprint when it contains no printing but when we put print on it, we call it a newspaper? Why are people who ride motorcycles called bikers and people who ride bikes called cyclists? Why — in our crazy language — can your nose run and your feet smell?Language is like the air we breathe. It’s invisible, inescapable, indispensable, and we take it for granted. But, when we take the time to step back and listen to the sounds that escape from the holes in people’s faces and to explore the paradoxes and vagaries of English, we find that hot dogs can be cold, darkrooms can be lit, homework can be done in school, nightmares can take place in broad daylight while morning sickness and daydreaming can take place at night, tomboys are girls and midwives can be men, hours — especially happy hours and rush hours — often last longer than sixty minutes, quicksand works very slowly, boxing rings are square, silverware and glasses can be made of plastic and tablecloths of paper, most telephones are dialed by being punched (or pushed?), and most bathrooms don’t have any baths in them. In fact, a dog can go to the bathroom under a tree —no bath, no room; it’s still going to the bathroom. And doesn’t it seem a little bizarre that we go to the bathroom in order to go to the bathroom? Why is it that a woman can man a station but a man can’t woman one, that a man can father a movement but a woman can’t mother one, and that a king rules a kingdom but a queen doesn’t rule a queendom? How did all those Renaissance men reproduce when there don’t seem to have been any Renaissance women? Sometimes you have to believe that all English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane: In what other language do they call the third hand on the clock the second hand? Why do they call them apartments when they’re all together? Why do we call them buildings, when they’re already built? Why it is called a TV set when you get only one? Why is phonetic not spelled phonetically? Why is it so hard to remember how to spell mnemonic? Why doesn’t onomatopoeia sound like what it is? Why is the word abbreviation so long? Why is diminutive so undiminutive? Why does the word monosyllabic consist of five syllables? Why is there no synonym for synonym or thesaurus? And why, pray tell, does lisp have an s in it? If adults commit adultery, do infants commit infantry? If olive oil is made from olives, what do they make baby oil from? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian consume? If pro and con are opposites, is congress the opposite of progress? ...
Richard Lederer
The compact disc manufacturing process started with a digital master tape, transported from the studio under heavy security. This tape was cloned in a clean room using a glass production mold, then locked away in a secure room. Next, the replication process began, as virgin discs were stamped with the production mold into bit-perfect copies. After replication, the discs were lacquered and sent to packaging, where they were “married” to the jewel cases, then combined with liner notes, inlays, booklets, and any other promotional materials. Certain discs contained explicit lyrics, and required a “Parental Advisory” warning sticker, and this was often applied by hand. Once finished, the packaged discs were fed into a shrink-wrapper, stacked into a cardboard box, and taken to inventory to await distribution to the music-purchasing public.
Stephen Witt (How Music Got Free: A Story of Obsession and Invention)
Finally I found something on the list, something vital: instant coffee. I held the red plastic container, one of the last three on the shelf, held it like the marvel that it was: the seeds inside the purple fruits of coffee plants had been harvested on Andean slopes and roasted and ground and soaked and then dehydrated at a factory in Medellin and vacuum-sealed and flown to JFK and then driven upstate in bulk to Pearl River for repackaging and then transported by truck to the store where I now stood reading the label. It was as if the social relations that produced the object in my hand began to glow within it as they were threatened, stirred inside their packaging, lending it a certain aura--the majesty and murderous stupidity of that organization of time and space and fuel and labor becoming visible in the commodity itself now that planes were grounded and the highways were starting to close.
Ben Lerner
But what Andy never understood about him was this: he was an optimist. Every month, every week, he chose to open his eyes, to live another day in the world. He did it when he was feeling so awful that sometimes the pain seemed to transport him to another state, one in which everything, even the past that he worked so hard to forget, seemed to fade into a gray watercolor wash. He did it when his memories crowded out all other thoughts, when it took real effort, real concentration, to tether himself to his current life, to keep himself from raging with despair and shame. He did it when he was so exhausted of trying, when being awake and alive demanded such energy that he had to lie in bed thinking of reasons to get up and try again, when it would be much easier to go to the bathroom and untape the plastic zipped bag containing his cotton pads and loose razors and alcohol wipes and bandages from its hiding place beneath the sink and simply surrender.
Hanya Yanagihara (A Little Life)
The Rai stones that constituted money were of various sizes, rising to large circular disks with a hole in the middle that weighed up to four metric tons. They were not native to Yap, which did not contain any limestone, and all of Yap's stones were brought in from neighboring Palau or Guam. The beauty and rarity of these stones made them desirable and venerable in Yap, but procuring them was very difficult as it involved a laborious process of quarrying and then shipping them with rafts and canoes. Some of these rocks required hundreds of people to transport them, and once they arrived on Yap, they were placed in a prominent location where everyone could see them. The owner of the stone could use it as a payment method without it having to move: all that would happen is that the owner would announce to all townsfolk that the stone's ownership has now moved to the recipient. The whole town would recognize the ownership of the stone and the recipient could then use it to make a payment whenever he so pleased.
Saifedean Ammous (The Bitcoin Standard: The Decentralized Alternative to Central Banking)
Zoey picked up her spoon and tasted it, and she was immediately and startlingly transported to a perfect autumn childhood day, the kind of day when sunlight is short but it's still warm enough to play outside. For the second course, the chilled crab cake was only the size of a silver dollar and the mustard cream and the green endive were just splashes of color on the plate. The visual experience was like dreaming of faraway summer while staring at Christmas lights through a frosty window. The third course brought to mind the first hot day of spring, when it's too warm to eat in the house so you sit outside with a dinner plate of Easter ham and corn on your lap and a bottle of Coca-Cola sweating beside you. Zoey could feel the excitement of summer coming, and she couldn't wait for it. And then summer arrived with the final course. And, like summer always is, it was worth the wait. The tiny container looked like a miniature milk glass, and the whipped milk in it reminded her of cold, sweet soft-serve ice cream on a day when the pavement burns through flip-flops and even shade trees are too hot to sit under. The savory bits of crispy cornbread mixed in gave the dessert a satisfying campfire crunch.
Sarah Addison Allen (Other Birds)
Clark Air base in Angeles City is a hub of commerce. The streets teem with industrious Filipinos hustling to make a living. Rusty cars and trucks clog narrow streets and honk their horns with abandon. Jeepneys ferry passengers around town for only a few pesos and serve as public transportation. The jeepney is the official vehicle of the Philippines. Jeepneys are long, open-sided jeeps and have bench seats for passengers. The best jeepneys are very ornate, their hoods festooned with a multitude of fancy chrome horses and ornaments, multihued streamers, and hand-operated rubber-bulb horns. Safety standards are third-world-relaxed in the PI, and jeepney drivers casually smoke cigarettes while they sit with plastic containers of gasoline nestled between their feet. The clear plastic jugs have a tube that connects to the engine and serves as the jeepney’s improvised gas tank, making it easier for the driver to monitor and conserve fuel. Jeepneys are not the only transportation available. Small, sidecar-equipped motorcycles called tricycles, also serve as cheap taxis, crowding the streets near popular establishments. The alleys are lined with side-by-side food stalls, and street vendors occupy every corner.
William F. Sine (Guardian Angel: Life and Death Adventures with Pararescue, the World's Most Powerful Commando Rescue Force)
Let’s consider what happens to our metabolism when we eat carbohydrate, or, in particular, the carbohydrate in grains. Most of the carbohydrate contained in grains exists in the form of starch, which is just a large chain of glucose molecules. Starch is quickly broken down into its individual glucose units by enzymes in our saliva and those released by the pancreas. The glucose is then absorbed into the blood, causing a rise in “blood sugar.” The spike in blood sugar triggers the release of insulin from the pancreas, a hormone whose primary function is to remove glucose from the bloodstream by facilitating its transport into the bodily tissues. Once inside the tissues, the glucose can then be burned for energy. Once those tissues have their fill of glucose, however, any that’s left over in the blood must still be eliminated. Glucose that stays around too long ends up sticking to bodily tissues and causing irreversible damage. So how does our body get rid of this excess glucose? It stores it…as fat. Yes, that’s right. Any starch you consume that’s in excess of what your body needs is, under the direction of insulin, converted to fat. And, in addition to driving the storage of glucose as fat, insulin also suppresses the release of fat from the adipose tissue.
Josh Turknett (The Migraine Miracle: A Sugar-Free, Gluten-Free, Ancestral Diet to Reduce Inflammation and Relieve Your Headaches for Good)
Nowadays people would likely make the journey to Balbec by motorcar, in the belief that it would be pleasanter. As we shall see, it would certainly be a truer way to travel, in a sense, given that one’s relationship to the various changes in the surface of the earth would be closer, more immediate. But the specific pleasure of traveling is not that it enables one to stop when tired or to stay somewhere along the way; it is that it can make the difference between departure and arrival not as unnoticeable as possible, but as profound as possible; it is that one can experience that difference in its entirety, as intact as it was in our mind when imagination transported us immediately from where we were living to where we yearned to be, in a leap that seemed miraculous less because it made us cover such a distance than because it linked two distinct personalities of place, taking us from one name to another name, a leap that is epitomized (more acutely than by a run in a motorcar, which allows you to get out where you like and thereby all but abolishes arrival) by the mysterious performance that used to be enacted in those special places, railway stations, which, though they are almost separate from the city, contain the essence of its individuality, as they bear its name on a signboard.
Marcel Proust (In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower)
INSTRUCTIONS Welcome to Hanoi Puzzle Deluxe. This eBook contains several fully-interactive "Towers of Hanoi" puzzles to challenge and entertain you. Each puzzle is comprised of three fixed columnal pegs and a set number of movable discs. The rules of the game are quite simple. Each puzzle (except for the special challenges) starts with all discs arranged in order in the leftmost game column. Your challenge is to transport the pegs so that they appear in the same sequential order in the rightmost game column. Sounds easy, right? What makes it challenging is the fact that you can only move one disc at a time and you cannot place a larger disc on top of a smaller disc. At the top of the screen, you'll find all available moves available to you at the time. Using your kindle directional controller, select the move you desire and the puzzle will update. Each move is represented by one of the following six descriptions: A_to_B, A_to_C, B_to_A, B_to_C, C_to_A, C_to_B. The first letter of the move syntax describes from which stack you'll remove a disc. The second letter of the syntax is the destination to put that disc. Therefore, "A_to_B" means remove the top disc from column A and place it in column B. It's that simple. Puzzle difficulty gets harder the more discs are in play. The 4-disc version should be quite easily solved. It's a good one for novices to do in order to become familiar with the game. The 8-disc and especially 9-disc puzzle are challenging. Don't be discouraged if you don't solve them immediately. Finally, for the Hanoi experts, I've included some special challenges where the game starts mid-stream instead of with all disc in the left column. Can you solve these mid-stream puzzles as well? Good luck and have fun!
K. Lenart (Hanoi Puzzle Deluxe for Kindle (16 Interactive Puzzles Variations))
With the introduction of radio, we now had a superfast. convenient, and wireless way of communicating over long distances. Historically, the lack of a fast and reliable communication system was one of the great obstacles to the march of history. (In 490 BCE, after the Battle of Marathon between the Greeks and the Persians, a poor runner was ordered to spread the news of the Greek victory as fast as he could. Bravely, he ran 26 miles to Athens after previously running 147 miles to Sparta, and then, according to legend, dropped dead of sheer exhaustion. His heroism, in the age before telecommunication, is now celebrated in the modern marathon.) Today, we take for granted that we can send messages and information effortlessly across the globe, utilizing the fact that energy can be transformed in many ways. For example, when speaking on a cell phone, the energy of the sound of your voice converts to mechanical energy in a vibrating diaphragm. The diaphragm is attached to a magnet that relies on the interchangeability of electricity and magnetism to create an electrical impulse, the kind that can be transported and read by a computer. This electrical impulse is then translated into electromagnetic waves that are picked up by a nearby microwave tower. There, the message is amplified and sent across the globe. But Maxwell's equations not only gave us nearly instantaneous communication via radio, cell phone, and fiber-optic cables, they also opened up the entire electromagnetic spectrum, of which visible light and radio were just two members. In the 166os, Newton had shown that white light, when sent through a prism, can be broken up into the colors of the rainbow. In 1800, William Herschel had asked himself a simple question: What lies beyond the colors of the rainbow, which extend from red to violet? He took a prism, which created a rainbow in his lab, and placed a thermometer below the color red, where there was no color at all. Much to his surprise, the temperature of this blank area began to rise. In other words, there was a "color" below red that was invisible to the naked eye but contained energy. It was called infrared light. Today, we realize that there is an entire spectrum of electromagnetic radiation, most of which is invisible, and each has a distinct wavelength. The wavelength of radio and TV, for example, is longer than that of visible light. The wavelength of the colors of the rainbow, in turn, is longer than that of ultraviolet and X-rays. This also meant that the reality we see all around us is only the tiniest sliver of the complete EM spectrum, the smallest approximation of a much larger universe
Michio Kaku (The God Equation: The Quest for a Theory of Everything)
Astrobiology simply presumes that a planet in the Goldilocks zone containing liquid water will somehow produce life. This leads to the “follow-the-water” strategy in the search for ETs. It is a good place to start, as it is widely recognized that the properties of liquid water are exquisitely suited for carbon-based life. These properties include the ability to dissolve and transport the chemical nutrients vital to living organisms and its unmatched capacity to absorb heat from the sun—a process critical for regulating a planet’s temperature. However, the mere presence of water, while necessary, is not sufficient, because there is no known mechanism explaining how life came from nonlife. If it is a still a mystery on Earth, where we are certain that life exists, what warrant is there to assume it occurs by chance elsewhere? The answer is that there is none; it is simply taken on blind faith. Theologian David Allen Lewis contends, “The same mentality that leads one to accept an origin of life apart from the Creator also leads to the unsupported conclusion that other intelligent life forms must have evolved on other worlds.”[305] Of course, that mentality is atheistic naturalism: the worldview behind astrobiological logic. A colorful illustration can be derived from
Cris Putnam (Exo-Vaticana: Petrus Romanus, Project LUCIFER, and the Vatican's Astonishing Exo-Theological Plan for the Arrival of an Alien Savior)
Chickens are soaked in baths of chlorine to remove slime and odor. Mixtures of excrement, blood, oil, grease, rust, paint, insecticides, and rodent droppings accumulate in processing plants. Maggots and other larvae breed in storage and transportation containers, on the floor, and in processing equipment and packaging, and they drop onto the conveyor belt from infested meat splattered on the ceiling.
Steve Striffler (Chicken: The Dangerous Transformation of America's Favorite Food)
It was Lippmann who gave us the concept of the “stereotype” (1922), which was basically a continuation of the Jungian concept of the archetype (1919) by other means. To Lippmann, the world outside our borders exists in a different space, consciously, from our own. We develop notions about life in those countries, their cultures, attitudes, and values, without ever go­ing there. Yet, their political situation affects our own; they exert a political influence—either through trade, communications, or transportation—on life in our own country even though we live in a constant state of unawareness of those countries, cultures, politics. The effect of these forces on us is invis­ible, but real. We then develop mental images—stereotypes—of the citizens of these countries, and it is upon the stereotypes that we act. The stereotypes determine our actions and reactions; like the stereotypes of the Islamic fun­damentalist, the Vietcong revolutionary, the Red Peril, they are easy targets, and the stereotype communicates a specific message, is, in terms familiar to the deconstructionism of Derrida, a text. Stereotypes can be created, and manipulated, by the gurus of mass com­munication and psychological warfare. Stereotypes are culturally-loaded and therefore not “value neutral.” We make snap judgments based on the nature of the stereotype; in the hands of the psy-war expert, a stereotype does not contain much complexity or depth. The idea is not to make the target think too clearly or too profoundly about the “text” but instead to react, in a Pav­lovian manner, to the stimulus it provides.
Jim Hougan (Sinister Forces—The Nine: A Grimoire of American Political Witchcraft (Sinister Forces: A Grimoire of American Political Witchcraft (Paperback) Book 1))
The eye, though small, sees remarkable things. The ear, though small, hears remarkable things. The hand, though small, carries remarkable things. The foot, though small, transports remarkable things. The tongue, though small, utters remarkable things. The mind, though small, perceives remarkable things. The heart, though small, contains remarkable things. The soul, though small, experiences remarkable things.
Matshona Dhliwayo
Liquefied natural gas is simply natural gas subjected to the intense cold of minus 260 degrees Fahrenheit. The supercooling process converts the gas to a liquid form that’s one six-hundredth its original volume. As long as it remains at this temperature, liquefied natural gas can be shipped for use elsewhere. Producers transport it in a cryogenic container, which isn’t much more than a very, very large thermos. At its destination, the liquefied natural gas, or LNG, is “regasified,” or heated until it turns back into its natural gaseous state. Then it can be distributed through traditional natural gas pipelines for heating, electricity, and other purposes in homes and businesses. Souki
Gregory Zuckerman (The Frackers: The Inside Story of the New Wildcatters and Their Energy Revolution)
The Eighteenth Amendment to the Constitution— proposed by Congress on December 18, 1917— prohibited the consumption of alcoholic beverages. Don’t you believe it. The Eighteenth—or, as it was popularly known, the Prohibition Amendment—made no restriction on drinking or possessing liquor, or on serving it to friends, or even to mere acquaintances. Nor was the purchase of alcoholic beverages declared illegal. All it prohibited was “the manufacture, sale, or transportation of intoxicating liquors” used for “beverage purposes.” Under the amendment, it was illegal to sell liquor but not against the law to buy it or own it. Nor did the amendment define what “intoxicating liquors” were. That was left to the National Prohibition Act (popularly known as the Volstead Act, not to be confused with the constitutional amendment) which defined an offending potable as any beverage that contained at least one-half of 1 percent of alcohol by volume. The Volstead Act—which was passed in October 1919, becoming effective on February 1, 1920—went beyond the amendment to extend the ban to purchase or possession. Medicinal application was excluded, as was sacramental use in religious rites. The Volstead bill had been vetoed by President Wilson, but his veto was overridden by Congress. The amendment, after approval by thirty-six states, was declared ratified on January 29, 1919, and remained in effect for almost fifteen years. It was finally repealed by the Twenty-first Amendment, which was adopted December 5, 1933. And, one bit of collateral information—which imbibers will laud but prohibitionists will grieve—the Eighteenth was the only constitutional amendment ever to be repealed.
Herb Reich (Lies They Teach in School: Exposing the Myths Behind 250 Commonly Believed Fallacies)
The law gave me an entirely new vocabulary, a language that non-lawyers derisively referred to as "legalese." Unlike the basic building blocks- the day-to-day words- that got me from the subway to the office and back, the words of my legal vocabulary, more often than not, triggered flavors that I had experienced after leaving Boiling Springs, flavors that I had chosen for myself, derived from foods that were never contained within the boxes and the cans of DeAnne's kitchen. Subpoenakiwifruit. InjunctionCamembert. Infringementlobster. Jurisdictionfreshgreenbeans. Appellantsourdoughbread. ArbitrationGuinness. Unconstitutionalasparagus. ExculpatoryNutella. I could go on and on, and I did. Every day I was paid an astonishing amount of money to shuffle these words around on paper and, better yet, to say them aloud. At my yearly reviews, the partners I worked for commented that they had never seen a young lawyer so visibly invigorated by her work. One of the many reasons I was on track to make partner, I thought. There were, of course, the rare and disconnecting exceptions. Some legal words reached back to the Dark Ages of my childhood and to the stunted diet that informed my earlier words. "Mitigating," for example, brought with it the unmistakable taste of elementary school cafeteria pizzas: rectangles of frozen dough topped with a ketchup-like sauce, the hard crumbled meat of some unidentifiable animal, and grated "cheese" that didn't melt when heated but instead retained the pattern of a badly crocheted coverlet. I had actually looked forward to the days when these rectangles were on the lunch menu, slapped onto my tray by the lunch ladies in hairnets and comfortable shoes. Those pizzas (even the word itself was pure exuberance with the two z's and the sound of satisfaction at the end... ah!) were evocative of some greater, more interesting locale, though how and where none of us at Boiling Springs Elementary circa 1975 were quite sure. We all knew what hamburgers and hot dogs were supposed to look and taste like, and we knew that the school cafeteria served us a second-rate version of these foods. Few of us students knew what a pizza was supposed to be. Kelly claimed that it was usually very big and round in shape, but both of these characteristics seemed highly improbable to me. By the time we were in middle school, a Pizza Inn had opened up along the feeder road to I-85. The Pizza Inn may or may not have been the first national chain of pizzerias to offer a weekly all-you-can-eat buffet. To the folks of the greater Boiling Springs-Shelby area, this was an idea that would expand their waistlines, if not their horizons. A Sizzler would later open next to the Pizza Inn (feeder road took on a new connotation), and it would offer the Holy Grail of all-you-can-eat buffets: steaks, baked potatoes, and, for the ladies, a salad bar complete with exotic fixings such as canned chickpeas and a tangle of slightly bruised alfalfa sprouts. Along with "mitigating," these were some of the other legal words that also transported me back in time: Egressredvelvetcake. PerpetuityFrenchsaladdressing. Compensatoryboiledpeanuts. ProbateReese'speanutbuttercup. FiduciaryCheerwine. AmortizationOreocookie.
Monique Truong (Bitter in the Mouth)
After the Second and Third Avenue Els were torn down, East Side property owners had prospered as brownstones, loft buildings, and tenements were replaced by high-rise offices and apartment buildings. The area east of Central Park between 59th and 96th Streets, known as the Upper East Side, became home to fashionable boutiques, luxury restaurants, and expensive furniture houses. With thousands of well-educated young professionals moving there, the neighborhood contained the greatest concentration of single people in the entire country.3 Even though the number of cars registered in the United States grew by 47 percent in the 1950s, New York City’s economy still relied on the subway in the early 1960s. During the 8:00 to 9:00 a.m. rush hour, 72 percent of the people entering the CBD traveled by subway, which could move people far more efficiently than automobiles. Each subway car could carry approximately one hundred people, and a ten-car train could accommodate a thousand. Since trains could operate every two minutes, each track could carry thirty thousand people per hour. By comparison, one lane of a highway could carry only about two thousand cars in an hour.4 Although Manhattan and the region were dependent on the rail transit system, 750,000 cars and trucks were entering the CBD on a typical weekday, three times more than had been the case thirty years earlier. Many New Yorkers expected the city to accommodate the growing number of cars. For example, the Greater New York Safety Council’s transportation division claimed that Americans had a fundamental freedom to drive, and that it was the city’s obligation to accommodate drivers by building more parking spaces in Manhattan. The members argued that without more parking, Manhattan would not be able to continue its role as the region’s CBD because a growing number of suburbanites were so highly conditioned to using their cars.5 In
Philip Mark Plotch (Last Subway: The Long Wait for the Next Train in New York City)
There is the standing prime rib roast, which I salted three days ago and have left uncovered in the extra fridge to dry out. I place the roast in a large Ziploc bag and put it in the bottom of the first rolling cooler, and then the tray of twice-baked potatoes enriched with cream, butter, sour cream, cheddar cheese, bacon bits, and chives, and topped with a combination of more shredded cheese and crispy fried shallots. My coolers have been retrofitted with dowels in the corners so that I can put thin sheets of melamine on them to create a second level of storage; that way items on the bottom don't get crushed. On the top layer of this cooler I placed the tray of stuffed tomatoes, bursting with a filling of tomato pudding, a sweet-and-sour bread pudding made with tomato paste and orange juice and lots of butter and brown sugar, mixed with toasted bread cubes. I add a couple of frozen packs, and close the top. "That is all looking amazing," Shawn says. "Why, thank you. Can you grab me that second cooler over there, please?" He salutes and rolls it over. I pull the creamed spinach out of the fridge, already stored in the slow cooker container, and put it in the bottom of the cooler, and then add three large heads of iceberg lettuce, the tub of homemade ranch dressing and another tub of crispy bacon bits, and a larger tub of popover batter. I made the pie at Lawrence's house yesterday morning before heading to the airport- it was just easier than trying to transport it- and I'll make the whipped cream topping and shower it with shards of shaved chocolate just before serving. I also dropped off three large bags of homemade salt-and-pepper potato chips, figuring that Lawrence can't eat all of them in one day and that there will hopefully be at least two bags still there when we arrive. Lawrence insisted that he would pick up the oysters himself.
Stacey Ballis (How to Change a Life)
A one-pound box of prewashed lettuce contains 80 calories of food energy. According to Cornell ecologist David Pimentel, growing, chilling, washing, packaging, and transporting that box of organic salad to a plate on the East Coast takes more than 4,600 calories of fossil fuel energy, or 57 calories of fossil fuel energy for every calorie of food. (These figures would be about 4 percent higher if the salad were grown conventionally.) I
Michael Pollan (The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals)
Perhaps what we need is a radical reconceptualization of time: not as an adversary to be vanquished (a race against time) or a criminal to be tracked down (fugitive time) or an employee to be disciplined (time management) or a commodity to be squandered (wasted time) but as an expansive, fluid entity that will always resist our efforts to contain it. Time can enrich our lives (quality time), transport us to new places and paces (island time), and help us out in moments of need:
Helen Sword (Air & Light & Time & Space: How Successful Academics Write)
The other problem regarding lack of preparation was insufficient transport capacity. Liquid medical oxygen is transported in specialised containers that can handle its supercooled cryogenic form. When the second wave hit, India had a total of 1,224 tankers able to ferry liquid oxygen, with a total capacity of 16,700 tons.40 Each tanker had a capacity of 15 tons and a turnaround time—i.e., being filled, transported, unloaded and then returning to be filled again—of about six days. This was inevitable because some states, like Delhi, did not produce any oxygen. And so the total amount that could be delivered on average daily was not the production capacity of 9,000 tons but 2,700 tons—less than half of what just Delhi, Gujarat, Karnataka and Maharashtra alone required. The result could only be a gross shortfall of what was needed across the country. And when that happened, Indians began to die from a lack of oxygen. The first deaths from a lack of oxygen had actually come during the first wave. In May 2020, it was already known that a surging wave caused deaths because normally functioning hospitals could rapidly run short of oxygen, a problem that had killed several patients in Mumbai that month.41 Aditi Priya, a research associate at Krea University, compiled the instances of oxygen deaths in the second wave that were reported in the media. The Modi government itself produced no document on the shortage or what it had wrought.
Aakar Patel (Price of the Modi Years)
Whatever its European credentials, Russia is not an Asian power for many reasons. Although 75 percent of its territory is in Asia, only 22 percent of its population lives there. Siberia may be Russia’s “treasure chest,” containing the majority of the mineral wealth, oil, and gas, but it is a harsh land, freezing for months on end, with vast forests (taiga), poor soil for farming, and large stretches of swampland. Only two railway networks run west to east—the Trans-Siberian and the Baikal-Amur Mainline. There are few transport routes leading north to south and so no easy way for Russia to project power southward into modern Mongolia or China: it lacks the manpower and supply lines to do so.
Tim Marshall (Prisoners of Geography: Ten Maps That Explain Everything About the World)
There is nothing like it. It is stardust and the sea. The iron in our blood comes from the death of supernovas, like all iron on our planet.5 This bright red liquid—brighter in the arteries, when it is transporting oxygen around the body from the heart, duller in the veins, when it is not—contains salt and water, like the sea we possibly came from.
Rose George (Nine Pints: A Journey Through the Money, Medicine, and Mysteries of Blood)
McLean understood that transport companies’ true business was moving freight rather than operating ships or trains.
Marc Levinson (The Box: How the Shipping Container Made the World Smaller and the World Economy Bigger - Second Edition with a new chapter by the author)
Be a channel, not a container; a container traps life, a channel transports life.
Paul Bamikole
The songs transported her backwards in time, to when she first wrote them. As each one melted into the next, as her voice sang lyrics and melodies from her past, memories burst like colors across a blank canvas. Because inside each and every one of these songs---songs she'd written before she ever left Edgewood---memories were hidden. Emeline choked on them. Hot tears burned in her eyes as she tapped the next file, and the next, racing through songs and, with them, memories that had been stolen from her. Images of a younger Sable flashed before her eyes, interwoven with a younger Rooke. And someone else. Hawthorne. He was everywhere, with his dark hair and strange eyes. Her songs were so full of him, Emeline felt like she was drowning in him. Hawthorne, sitting next to the fire, reading a book. Hawthorne, shucking off his shirt and diving into a moonlit pond. Hawthorne, climbing in through her bedroom window. Kissing her in the dark. She'd embedded him inside her music. Because songs were never just songs for Emeline. They were capsules, each one containing a moment trapped inside it. As the next one started to play through her headphones, an image of a tree rose up in her mind. Emeline could see its thirsty roots; the twisting, twirling gray-brown bark; the gnarly branches stretching towards the sky. A silent sentinel, standing guard at the edge of the woods. Her tree.
Kristen Ciccarelli (Edgewood)
And now that mulch of dead imaginings beneath the feet of Temperance ladies, union-affiliated Vaudevillians and maimed men home from Europe has contaminated the groundwater of the upstart country's nightmares. Immigrants in their illimitable difference come to seem a separate species, taciturn and fish-eyed as though risen from the ocean waves that bore them in their transport, monstrous in their self-contained communities with bitter scents and indecipherable ululations, names, unsettlingly unpronounceable ensconced at isolated farms where beaten track is naught save idle rumour stagnant families nurse grievance, dreadful secrets and deformity in solitude; pools of declined humanity entirely unconnected to society by any tributary where ancestral prejudice or misconception may become the plaint of generations. Fabled and forbidden works of Arab alchemy are handed down across years cruel and volatile, trafficked between austere and colonial homes by charitable fellowships with ancient affectations or conveyed by fevered sea-captains, fugitive Huguenots or elderly hysterics formally accused of witchcraft. Young America, a sapling power grown suddenly so tall upon its diet of nickelodeons and motorcars, has sunk unwitting roots into an underworld of grotesque notions and archaic creeds, their feaful pull discernible below the weed-cracked sidewalk. Buried and forgotten, ominous philosophies await their day with hideous patience. Well! I think that's pretty darned good for a first attempt. A little over-wrought, perhaps, and I'm not sure about the style - I can't decide if its too modern of it's too old fashioned, but perhaps that's a good sign. Of course, I guess I'll have to introduce a plot and characters at some point, but I'll wrestle with that minor nuisance when I get to it. Perhaps I could contrive to have some hobo, maybe literally a hoe-boy or travelling itinerant farm labourer who's wandering from place to place around New England in the search for work; somebody who might reasonably become involved with all the various characters I'm hoping to investigate. Being a labourer, while it would lend a feasibility to any action or exertion that I wanted in the story, wouldn't mean that my protagonist was lacking in intelligence of education: this is often economically a far from certain country for a lot of people, and there's plenty of smart fellows - maybe even an aspiring writer like myself - who've found themselves leaving their homes and families to mooch around from farm to farm in hope of some hay-baling or fruit-picking that's unlikely to materialise. Perhaps a character like that, a rugged man who is sufficiently well read to justifiably allow me a few literary flourishes (and I can't help thinking that I'll probably end up casting some imagined variant of Tom Malone) would be the kind of of sympathetic hero and the kind of voice I'm looking for. Meanwhile I yawned a moment or two back, and while I'm not yet quite exhausted to the point where I can guarantee a deep and dreamless sleep, perhaps another six or seven vague ideas for stories might just do the soporific job.
Alan Moore (Providence Compendium by Alan Moore and Jacen Burrows Hardcover)
And now that mulch of dead imaginings beneath the feet of Temperance ladies, union-affiliated Vaudevillians and maimed men home from Europe has contaminated the groundwater of the upstart country's nightmares. Immigrants in their illimitable difference come to seem a separate species, taciturn and fish-eyed as though risen from the ocean waves that bore them in their transport, monstrous in their self-contained communities with bitter scents and indecipherable ululations, names, unsettlingly unpronounceable ensconced at isolated farms where beaten track is naught save idle rumour stagnant families nurse grievance, dreadful secrets and deformity in solitude; pools of declined humanity entirely unconnected to society by any tributary where ancestral prejudice or misconception may become the plaint of generations. Fabled and forbidden works of Arab alchemy are handed down across years cruel and volatile, trafficked between austere and colonial homes by charitable fellowships with ancient affectations or conveyed by fevered sea-captains, fugitive Huguenots or elderly hysterics formally accused of witchcraft. Young America, a sapling power grown suddenly so tall upon its diet of nickelodeons and motorcars, has sunk unwitting roots into an underworld of grotesque notions and archaic creeds, their feaful pull discernible below the weed-cracked sidewalk. Buried and forgotten, ominous philosophies await their day with hideous patience. Well! I think that's pretty darned good for a first attempt. A little over-wrought, perhaps, and I'm not sure about the style - I can't decide if its too modern of it's too old-fashioned, but perhaps that's a good sign. Of course, I guess I'll have to introduce a plot and characters at some point, but I'll wrestle with that minor nuisance when I get to it. Perhaps I could contrive to have some hobo, maybe literally a hoe-boy or travelling itinerant farm labourer who's wandering from place to place around New England in the search for work; somebody who might reasonably become involved with all the various characters I'm hoping to investigate. Being a labourer, while it would lend a feasibility to any action or exertion that I wanted in the story, wouldn't mean that my protagonist was lacking in intelligence or education: this is often economically a far from certain country for a lot of people, and there's plenty of smart fellows - maybe even an aspiring writer like myself - who've found themselves leaving their homes and families to mooch around from farm to farm in hope of some hay-baling or fruit-picking that's unlikely to materialise. Perhaps a character like that, a rugged man who is sufficiently well read to justifiably allow me a few literary flourishes (and I can't help thinking that I'll probably end up casting some imagined variant of Tom Malone) would be the kind of of sympathetic hero and the kind of voice I'm looking for. Meanwhile I yawned a moment or two back, and while I'm not yet quite exhausted to the point where I can guarantee a deep and dreamless sleep, perhaps another six or seven vague ideas for stories might just do the soporific job.
Alan Moore (Providence Compendium by Alan Moore and Jacen Burrows Hardcover)
one-pound box of prewashed lettuce contains 80 calories of food energy. According to Cornell ecologist David Pimentel, growing, chilling, washing, packaging, and transporting that box of organic salad to a plate on the East Coast takes more than 4,600 calories of fossil fuel energy, or 57 calories of fossil fuel energy for every calorie of food. (These
Michael Pollan (The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals)
I consider reading the greatest bargain in the world. A shelf of books is a shelf of many lives and ideas and imaginations which the reader can enjoy whenever he wishes and as often as he wishes. Instead of experiencing just one life, the book-lover can experience hundreds or even thousands of lives. He can live any kind of adventure in the world. Books are his time machine into the past and also into the future. Books are his "transporter" by which he can beam instantly to any part of the universe and explore what he finds there. Books are an instrument by which he can become any person for a while—a man, a woman, a child, a general, a farmer, a detective, a king, a doctor, anyone. Great books are especially valuable because a great book often contains within its covers the wisdom of a man or woman's whole lifetime. But the true lover of books enjoys all kinds of books, even some nonsense now and then, because enjoying nonsense from others can teach us to also laugh at ourselves. A person who does not learn to laugh at his own problems and weaknesses and foolishness can never be a truly educated or a truly happy person. Also, probably the same thing could be said of a person who does not enjoy learning and growing all his life.
Gene Roddenberry (Letters to Star Trek)
I consider reading the greatest bargain in the world. A shelf of books is a shelf of many lives and ideas and imaginations which the reader can enjoy whenever he wishes and as often as he wishes. Instead of experiencing just one life, the book-lover can experience hundreds or even thousands of lives. He can live any kind of adventure in the world. Books are his time machine into the past and also into the future. Books are his "transporter" by which he can beam instantly to any part of the universe and explore what he finds there. Books are an instrument by which he can become any person for a while—a man, a woman, a child, a general, a farmer, a detective, a king, a doctor, anyone. Great books are especially valuable because a great book often contains within its covers the wisdom of a man or woman's whole lifetime. But the true lover of books enjoys all kinds of books, even some nonsense now and then, because enjoying nonsense from others can teach us to also laugh at ourselves. A person who does not learn to laugh at his own problems and weaknesses and foolishness can never be a truly educated or a truly happy person. Also, probably the same thing could be said of a person who does not enjoy learning and growing all his life.
Gene Roddenberry (Letters to Star Trek)
The extracellular fluid contains large amounts of sodium, chloride, and bicarbonate ions plus nutrients for the cells, such as oxygen, glucose, fatty acids, and amino acids. It also contains carbon dioxide that is being transported from the cells to the lungs to be excreted, plus other cellular waste products that are being transported to the kidneys for excretion.
John E. Hall (Guyton and Hall Textbook of Medical Physiology)
He might have apprenticed himself to one of these people, but he was impatient, so he began by dropping into restaurants in the late afternoon, casually introducing himself to managers and sometimes chefs, offering to do their flowers. Most were curt, but Oliver had charm, and often enough he found himself at a bare table with a cup of tea and a couple of serious, nodding men, showing them photographs of flowers and containers and making notes about their color preferences, heights, shapes, and prices. During this period he created his arrangements on a plastic sheet stretched on the floor of his studio, and when they were done he transported them to their destinations in a child’s red wagon, the vases wedged tightly and the flowers wrapped against the wind. After the first month, he’d accumulated eight regular clients and a host of sporadic customers. He added office lobbies, doctors’ offices, two clothing shops, and an antique store on Bleecker Street. He began to leave business cards beside his arrangements, with the new address optimistically printed and his current phone number. He began to get calls. All of which made him ever more impatient for his own home.
Jean Hanff Korelitz (The White Rose)
There was a general shortage of medication. Even the iodine ran out. Either the supply system failed, or else we’d used up our allowance — another triumph of our planned economy. We used equipment captured from the enemy. In my bag I always had twenty Japanese disposable syringes. They were sealed in a light polyethylene packing which could be removed quickly, ready for use. Our Soviet ‘Rekord’ brand, wrapped in paper which always got torn, were frequently not sterile. Half of them didn’t work, anyhow — the plungers got stuck. They were crap. Our homeproduced plasma was supplied in half-litre glass bottles. A seriously wounded casualty needs two litres — i.e. four bottles. How are you meant to hold them up, arm-high, for nearly an hour in battlefield conditions? It’s practically impossible. And how many bottles can you carry? We captured Italian-made polyethylene packages containing one litre each, so strong you could jump on them with your army boots and they wouldn’t burst. Our ordinary Soviet-made sterile dressings were also bad. The packaging was as heavy as oak and weighed more than the dressing itself. Foreign equivalents, from Thailand or Australia, for example, were lighter, even whiter somehow … We had absolutely no elastic dressings, except what we captured — French and German products. And as for our splints! They were more like skis than medical equipment! How many can you carry with you? I carried English splints of different lengths for specific limbs, upper arm, calf, thigh, etc. They were inflatable, with zips. You inserted the arm or whatever, zipped up and the bone was protected from movement or jarring during transportation to hospital. In the last nine years our country has made no progress and produced nothing new…
Svetlana Alexievich (Zinky Boys: Soviet Voices from the Afghanistan War)
Rebecca Gleeson (an everyday schoolgirl on her way to school on the Monday morning eight o’clock train.) The Kingdom of Nought is a time tale legacy: accompanying her on the train Rebecca’s arch nemeses Rona Chadwick, the school bully. Rebecca a fan of poetry and fairy tales. “Tales of kindness and friendship.” She would say to herself. Rebecca was a reader of wonderful books that have a cult following. Unknown to Rebecca far away at the start of the universe dark and evil forces start to unbalance the natural order of day and night, good and evil. Weird things begin to happen as both Rebecca and Rona are transported back in time to The Kingdom of Nought to reinstate the benevolent balance within the kingdom. The adventure for the schoolgirls starts out strange and gets stranger, in the best way possible. Their meeting with the witch Sycorax is as creepy and evocative as you’d hope. The story combines mathematical realism with fantasy, blurring the edges in a way that high-lights that place where stories and real life convene, where magic contains truth. As you open the book and turn the pages you enter a strange place out-side time with amazing creatures and spectacular landscapes. An extremely addictive story that will take you to a magical place with a most unusual conclusion.
M.J. O'Farrell (The Kingdom of Nought)
Yogurt is good for you. And it’s just one spoon,” Sharpcot had replied, but this stack summoned a billion voices, all of them saying in a chorus, “Just one spoon.” From kids’ lunches and store shelves and desk drawers and airline meal packs, in every country of the world: Canada and the United States and Nicaragua and Uruguay and Argentina and Ireland and Burkina Faso and Russia and Papua New Guinea and New Zealand and very probably the Antarctic. Where wasn’t there disposable cutlery? Plastic spoons in endless demand, in endless supply, from factory floors where they are manufactured and packaged in boxes of 10 or 20 or 100 or 1000 or individually in clear wrap, boxed on skids and trucked to trains freighting them to port cities and onto giant container ships plying the seas to international ports to intercity transport trucks to retail delivery docks for grocery stores and retail chains, supplying restaurants and homes, consumers moving them from shelf to cart to bag to car to house, where they are stuck in the lunches of the children of polluting parents, or used once each at a birthday party to serve ice cream to four-year-olds where only some are used but who knows which? So used and unused go together in the trash, or every day one crammed into a hipster’s backpack to eat instant pudding at his software job in an open-concept walkup in a gentrified neighbourhood, or handed out from food trucks by the harbour, or set in a paper cup at a Costco table for customers to sample just one bite of this exotic new flavour, and so they go into trash bins and dumpsters and garbage trucks and finally vast landfill sites or maybe just tossed from the window of a moving car or thrown over the rail of a cruise ship to sink in the ocean deep.
B.H. Panhuyzen (A Tidy Armageddon)
The fact is that, right up to our own time, language has surpassed any other form of tool or machine as a technical instrument: in its ideal structure and its daily performance, it still stands as a model, though an unnoticed one, for all other kinds of effective prefabrication, standardization, and mass consumption. This is not so absurd a claim as it may at first seem. Language, to begin with, is the most transportable and storable, the most easily diffusible, of all social artifacts: the most ethereal of cultural agents, and for that reason the only one capable of indefinite multiplication and storage of meanings without overcrowding the living spaces of the planet. Once well started, the production of words introduced the first real economy of abundance, which provided for continuous production, replacement, and ceaseless invention, yet incorporated built-in controls that prevented the present-day malpractices of automatic expansion, reckless inflation, and premature obsolescence. Language is the great container of culture. Because of the stability of every language, each generation has been able to carry over and pass on a significant portion of previous history, even when it has not been otherwise recorded. And no matter how much the outer scene changes, through language man retains an inner scene where he is at home with his own mind, among his own kind.
Lewis Mumford (Technics and Human Development (The Myth of the Machine, Vol 1))
Chloride is essential for digestion and in respiration. Without sodium, which the body cannot manufacture, the body would be unable to transport nutrients or oxygen, transmit nerve impulses, or move muscles, including the heart. An adult human being contains about 250 grams of salt, which would fill three or four salt-shakers, but is constantly losing it through bodily functions. It is essential to replace this lost salt. A
Mark Kurlansky (Salt: A World History)
One federal law makes it a crime “to import, export, transport, sell, receive, acquire, or purchase any fish or wildlife or plant taken, possessed, transported, or sold in violation of any law, treaty, or regulation of the United States or in violation of any Indian tribal law [or] . . . any law or regulation of any State or in violation of any foreign law.”19 This single sentence, one of many thousands contained in the United States Code, incorporates by reference the crimes set forth in the laws of every other country in the world, and applies to every sort of animal, fish, or plant. People have been prosecuted and convicted under this law for possessing a lobster or a fish—even though the possession of that creature did not violate any other American law—just because it was imported from another country that did forbid such possession. Did you know that you could be guilty of a felony under federal law if you are found in possession of a “short lobster,” because it was a little smaller than one you could lawfully possess?20 If you are charged with such an offense, it does not matter whether it was dead or alive, or whether you killed it; it does not even matter whether you killed it in self-defense. You will not find this law even if you set aside five years of your life to read the entire section of the United States Code governing “Crimes and Criminal Procedure,” however, because this crime is listed in Title 16 (sec. 1857) of the United States Code, in a section that collects all the laws governing the subject of “Conservation.” Another
James Duane (You Have the Right to Remain Innocent)
Mr. Hazlit, won’t you please, please help me find my reticule? It is one of my dearest possessions. I feel horrid for having lost track of it, and I’m too embarrassed to prevail upon anybody else but you to aid me in my hour of need.” She turned her best swain-slaying gaze on him in the moonlight, the look Val had told her never to use on his friends. For good measure, she let a little sincerity into her eyes, because she’d spoken nothing but the truth. “God help me.” Hazlit scrubbed a hand over his face. “Stick to quoting the law with me, please. I might have a prayer of retaining my wits.” She dropped the pleading expression. “You’ll keep our bargain, then?” “I will make an attempt to find this little purse of yours, but there are no guarantees in my work, Miss Windham. Let’s put a limit on the investigation—say, four weeks. If I haven’t found the thing by then, I’ll refund half your money.” “You needn’t.” She rose, relieved to have her business concluded. “I can spare it, and this is important to me.” “Where are you going?” He rose, as well, as manners required. But Maggie had the sense he was also just too… primordial to let a woman go off on her own in the moonlight. “I’m going back to the ballroom. We’ve been out here quite long enough, unless you’re again trying to wiggle out of your obligations?” “No need to be nasty.” He came closer and winged his arm at her. “We’ve had our bit of air, but you’ve yet to tell me anything that would aid me in attaining your goal. What does this reticule look like? Who has seen you with it? Where did you acquire it? When did you last have it?” “All of that?” “That and more if it’s so precious to you,” he said, leading her back toward the more-traveled paths. “That is just a start. I will want to establish who had access to the thing, what valuables it contained, and who might have been motivated to steal it.” “Steal?” She went still, dropping his arm, for this possibility honestly hadn’t occurred to her. She realized, as he replaced her hand on his arm, that she’d held the thought of theft away from her awareness, an unacknowledged fear. “You think somebody would steal a little pin money? People are hung for stealing a few coins, Mr. Hazlit, and transported on those awful ships, and… you think it was a thief?” “You clearly do not.” She was going to let him know in no uncertain terms that no, she could not have been victimized by a thief. She was too careful, too smart. She’d hired only staff with the best references, she seldom had visitors, and such a thing was utterly… “I did not reach that conclusion. I don’t want to.” Voices
Grace Burrowes (Lady Maggie's Secret Scandal (The Duke's Daughters, #2; Windham, #5))
In The Box, a history of the container, the economist Marc Levinson describes a 1954 voyage on a typical cargo ship, SS Warrior. It carried 74,903 cases, 71,726 cartons, 24,036 bags, 10,671 boxes, 2,880 bundles, 2,877 packages, 2,634 pieces, 1,538 drums, 888 cans, 815 barrels, 53 wheeled vehicles, 21 crates, 10 transporters, 5 reels, and 1,525 undetermined items. A total of 194,582 pieces, all of which had to be loaded and unloaded by hand. The total weight came to just over five thousand tons of cargo and would have taken weeks to move. Kendal can unload and load several thousand boxes in less than twenty-four hours.
Rose George (Ninety Percent of Everything: Inside Shipping, the Invisible Industry That Puts Clothes on Your Back, Gas in Your Car, and Food on Your Plate)
After a great deal of culinary soul-searching I picked the almond apricot pound cake with Amaretto, a black chocolate espresso cake with a burnt-orange frosting, and the beloved sweet potato cake with rum-soaked raisins. I could either make it in a Bundt pan with a spiked glaze or I could make it in three layers with a cream-cheese frosting. In the end I settled on the latter because I knew my cream cheese was one of my greatest strengths (the secret being to substitute fiori di Sicilia for the vanilla). It made me slightly crazy to think of leaving out the lemon cake with lemon-curd frosting- everyone died over that cake- but the frosting was very wet and the layers had a tendency to slide when transported. I loved the little lime-soaked coconut cakes but so many people took issue with coconut. A genoise was perfect for showing off, but if I wasn't there to serve it myself, I couldn't trust that it would be completely understood and I didn't think there would be any point in sending a container of syrup on the side with written instructions. And what about the sticky toffee pudding with its stewed dates and caramel sauce? That was as much a cake as anything else if you were willing to expand your boundaries little. I wasn't sure about the chocolate. It was my best chocolate cake but I didn't absolutely love chocolate. Still, I knew other people did. I felt I needed an almond cake and this one worked in the apricots, but I wasn't so sure about not having a frosting. Would it seem too plain? And the sweet potato cake, I had to have that. That was the cake from which everything had started. I had to make a commitment. I had to bake.
Jeanne Ray (Eat Cake)
anthologies like Accessing the Future (gathering together voices of disabled people to create SF tales of disability), The Sum of Us (an anthology complicating ideas of care and caregiving), Alison Sinclair’s Darkborn series (presenting the social changes that would occur in a world where half the population is blind), Tanya Huff’s novel Gate of Darkness, Circle of Light (which features a protagonist with an intellectual disability who resists containment or control), Ada Hoffmann’s short story “You Have To Follow the Rules” (which transports the reader into a world where autism is the norm and asks us to reconsider how we codify rules of social interaction and privilege neurotypicality),
Lynne M. Thomas (Uncanny Magazine Issue 24 September/October 2018: Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction! Special Issue)
answer these three questions: 1.​Images: Can you picture the scene in your mind’s eye? What you’re looking for is text capable of transporting you inside the story so that you can see it vividly in your own imagination. If the book is illustrated, notice if the images capture you and whether or not you want to look at them just a bit longer than necessary. 2.​Vocabulary: Do the word choices seem rich and varied? Avoid books with overly simplified or dumbed-down language. The best read-alouds contain a wide range of words—the kind of words you want to speak out loud. 3.​Curiosity: Are you interested in finding out what happens next? The book probably won’t be worth reading if you answer this question with a “no.
Sarah Mackenzie (The Read-Aloud Family: Making Meaningful and Lasting Connections with Your Kids)
Serving Positive Displacement Pumps Manufacturer Company in Coimbatore supporters with trust and quality mixed with advance, Our Pumps and Systems, an essential creator, exporter and provider of Gear Pumps Industrial. We have made ourselves in this space with our execution created thing go. In a compelled ability to focus time, we have cut a quality as one of the trust-exemplary Positive Displacement Pump Manufacturers. Our Manufacturing range contains Positive clearing pumps: Gear Pumps, Lobe Pumps, Vane Pumps, Reciprocating Pumps, Vacuum Pumps and Peristaltic Pumps both Industrial and Lab Models. Everest has beginning late turned out with Industrial Hose Pumps especially to pump froth bond and fluids with strong particles. With our guarantee to quality and instigate transports, we are completely sorted out to address the weights and requesting vocations of process industry We keep mind nature of our things fitting from the lead time of anchors grungy materials to the keep going time of passing on things to customers. We do investigate our social gathering unit on standard breaks near that we arrange help programs for keeping up and encompassing our apparatus. We other than take after different quality control instruments for guaranteeing flawlessness in our things Our things are encompassed with the bona fide focus on that can think about various necessities of our clients. Our curiously made amusement arrangements are to a magnificent degree energizing all things considered market that has accomplished us not irrelevant once-finished of showed customers from nations like Dubai, South Africa, Indonesia, et cetera. Our union takes after solid business morals mixed with positive approach that are major for winning the trust of the customers.
Positive Displacement Pumps Manufacturer Company in Coimbatore
We all yearn to save time, at any cost (including the environment), so we buy into time-saving tricks that marketing campaigns promise. But who is disposability really benefiting in the end? Take a pack of disposable cups, for example: How does (1) ripping open its packaging, (2) carrying packaging and cups out to the curb with your recycling (or trash), (3) bringing that container back from the curb, (4) going to the store for more, and (5) transporting them from the store, on multiple occasions, save time compared to (1) grabbing reusable cups from the cupboard, (2) throwing them in the dishwasher, and (3) putting them away? It seems that we have been duped into thinking that multiple shopping and recycling trips required by disposability save more time than reusing a durable product.
Bea Johnson (Zero Waste Home: The Ultimate Guide to Simplifying Your Life by Reducing Your Waste)
Power can be safely exercised only in the service of that which is ostensibly good. Power is like gasoline. Spread aimlessly over the landscape, it can result in an inferno, causing untold harm. Correctly contained, it can cook supper or transport us to Boston.
Gerry Spence (How to Argue and Win Every Time)