Conway Quotes

An adult life...is a slowly emerging design, with shifting components, occasional dramatic disruptions, and fresh creative arrangements.

Here’s what I believe: 1. If you are offended or hurt when you hear Hillary Clinton or Maxine Waters called bitch, whore, or the c-word, you should be equally offended and hurt when you hear those same words used to describe Ivanka Trump, Kellyanne Conway, or Theresa May. 2. If you felt belittled when Hillary Clinton called Trump supporters “a basket of deplorables” then you should have felt equally concerned when Eric Trump said “Democrats aren’t even human.” 3. When the president of the United States calls women dogs or talks about grabbing pussy, we should get chills down our spine and resistance flowing through our veins. When people call the president of the United States a pig, we should reject that language regardless of our politics and demand discourse that doesn’t make people subhuman. 4. When we hear people referred to as animals or aliens, we should immediately wonder, “Is this an attempt to reduce someone’s humanity so we can get away with hurting them or denying them basic human rights?” 5. If you’re offended by a meme of Trump Photoshopped to look like Hitler, then you shouldn’t have Obama Photoshopped to look like the Joker on your Facebook feed. There is a line. It’s etched from dignity. And raging, fearful people from the right and left are crossing it at unprecedented rates every single day. We must never tolerate dehumanization—the primary instrument of violence that has been used in every genocide recorded throughout history.

Thrown from my secure life, whether by chance or the Powers That Be, I was sitting on a skipping stone and it was fear, not confidence, that was increasing with the ripples of uncertainty. Mine had become a world without center.

A good country song takes a page out of somebody's life and puts it to music.

All heart surgeons are bastards, and Conway is no exception.

What can you do how much can you give to bring grace and salvation unto even one soul

['Intelligent Design'] is a theology for control freaks.

Such a sweet letter from Lady Conway... You remember my telling you about her? Her memory's bad. Can't recognize her relations always and tells them to go away." "That might be shrewdness really," said Miss Marple, "rather than a loss of memory.

What I feel inspired to write today is this deep emotional dissatisfaction with the reality of our times--corruption of government--fake people--sick values--and unconscious people living meaningless lives

I live in nature where everything is connected, circular. The seasons are circular. The planet is circular, and so is the planet around the sun. The course of water over the earth is circular coming down from the sky and circulating through the world to spread life and then evaporating up again. I live in a circular teepee and build my fire in a circle. The life cycles of plants and animals are circular. I live outside where I can see this. The ancient people understood that our world is a circle, but we modern people have lost site of that. I don’t live inside buildings because buildings are dead places where nothing grows, where water doesn’t flow, and where life stops. I don’t want to live in a dead place. People say that I don’t live in a real world, but it’s modern Americans who live in a fake world, because they have stepped outside the natural circle of life. Do people live in circles today? No. They live in boxes. They wake up every morning in a box of their bedrooms because a box next to them started making beeping noises to tell them it was time to get up. They eat their breakfast out of a box and then they throw that box away into another box. Then they leave the box where they live and get into another box with wheels and drive to work, which is just another big box broken into little cubicle boxes where a bunch of people spend their days sitting and staring at the computer boxes in front of them. When the day is over, everyone gets into the box with wheels again and goes home to the house boxes and spends the evening staring at the television boxes for entertainment. They get their music from a box, they get their food from a box, they keep their clothing in a box, they live their lives in a box. Break out of the box! This not the way humanity lived for thousands of years.

You know, people think mathematics is complicated. Mathematics is the simple bit. It's the stuff we can understand. It's cats that are complicated. I mean, what is it in those little molecules and stuff that make one cat behave differently than another, or that make a cat? And how do you define a cat? I have no idea.

You’ll be okay, Eila. You are stronger than you think,” he said, a tad too serious. I nodded drunkenly. “I am still worried though, about a concussion. You look a bit unstable.” I bet I did.

Time's only a kind of dream, Kay. If it wasn't, it would have to destroy everything —the whole universe— and then remake it again every tenth of a second. But Time doesn't destroy anything. It merely moves us on —in this life— from one peephole to the next.

Conway said quietly, “If you’d had all the experiences I’ve had, you’d know that there are times in life when the most comfortable thing is to do nothing at all. Things happen to you and you just let them happen.

Emily: Oh, Mama, look at me one minute as though you really saw me. Mama, fourteen years have gone by. I'm dead. You're a grandmother, Mama! Wally's dead, too. His appendix burst on a camping trip to North Conway. We felt just terrible about it - don't you remember? But, just for a moment now we're all together. Mama, just for a moment we're happy. Let's really look at one another!...I can't. I can't go on.It goes so fast. We don't have time to look at one another. I didn't realize. So all that was going on and we never noticed. Take me back -- up the hill -- to my grave. But first: Wait! One more look. Good-bye , Good-bye world. Good-bye, Grover's Corners....Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking....and Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new ironed dresses and hot baths....and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth,you are too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it--every,every minute? Stage Manager: No. (pause) The saints and poets, maybe they do some. Emily: I'm ready to go back.

People enjoy sitting back knowing they won't hear a lot of four-letter words.

At first I wanted to be a jockey. I rode horses in Cleveland but I kept falling off and I was afraid of horses. So there wasn't much of a future in it.

Night always turns to day again as long as the sun shall rise, so shall it be for darkened dreams grown pale from compromise

How's Alison getting on?' Conway snorted. 'Tucked up in the sick room like she's dying in some season finale. Little fadey voice on her and all. She's having a great old time.

I sometimes think heaven is walking out into the sunshine with the day ahead of me and no idea what would happen. I'd probably spend most of it in the library, so I guess it don't matter if the sun shines or not.

But the point is, now, at this moment, or any moment, we're only cross-sections of our real selves. What we really are is the whole stretch of ourselves, all our time, and when we come to the end of this life, all those selves, all our time, will be us - the real you, the real me. And then perhaps we'll find ourselves in another time, which is only another kind of dream.

Conway agreed with Bannon that if the Trump campaign could make the race about Hillary, not Trump, they would win with those hidden Trump voters. If the race stayed about Trump, “we’ll probably lose.

Forty minutes later, my hatred for field hockey was in full bloom, courtesy of Nikki. Whoever thought it was a good idea to combine Tag with wooden golf clubs and a rodent-size ball should be beaten senseless.

Because Conway persisted in maligning Washington, he was summoned to the dueling ground by General John Cadwalader, who fired a ball through Conway’s mouth that came out the back of his head. Cadwalader showed no regret. “I have stopped the damned rascal’s lying tongue at any rate,” he observed as his opponent lay in agony on the ground.

sometimes the tools we need to fix ourselves are inside us the whole time.

Bannon, Kushner, Conway, and the president’s daughter actually had no specific responsibilities—they could make it up as they went along. They did what they wanted.

The string connecting everything real and abstract in the universe is entangled in a thought and knotted in an idea.

How easy having babies seemed to the women around me! Why was I so unmaternal and apart? Why couldn't I dream of devoting myself to baby after fat puling baby like Dodo Conway?

What if you do what you think is right, for yourself or someone else, but it doesn't make a difference." - Susanna Quiner

He shrank from even the smallest things that inclined towards self indulgence. He would not remain alone with a lady. {On Jain scholar Virchand Gandhi}

If nothing in life challenges us, we will remain unchallenged by life.

If you panic...you die.

You can get anything you want from anywhere in the world at a bargain price, but don't [whatever you do] expect to understand how it was made or how it got to you.

Just imagine if you took all the money you've spent on these things and traveled around the world with it, instead, or bought books and read them. Think about how much you would know about life.

There is an uneasy moment most military personnel recognize, when they come too close to ‘the enemy’ and what was a homogeneous mass breaks apart, like cells pulling away under a microscope, revealing that all along it was made up of individual humans just like them.

Washington, like most scholarly Virginians of his time, was a Deist... Contemporary evidence shows that in mature life Washington was a Deist, and did not commune, which is quite consistent with his being a vestryman. In England, where vestries have secular functions, it is not unusual for Unitarians to vestrymen, there being no doctrinal subscription required for that office. Washington's letters during the Revolution occasionally indicate his recognition of the hand of Providence in notable public events, but in the thousands of his letters I have never been able to find the name of Christ or any reference to him. {Conway was employed to edit Washington's letters}

This is a magical metal: alongside hydrogen and helium it was one of the three primordial elements created in the Big Bang, making it one of the oldest pieces of matter in the universe. No other element has quite the same combination of lightness, conductivity and electrochemical power.

I learned that time manages the most painful partings for us. One has only to set the date, buy the ticket, and let the earth, sun, and moon make their passages through the sky, until inexorable time carries us with it to the moment of parting.

What conditions have to be in effect for evolution by natural selection to occur? The words I put into Darwin's mouth were simple: Give me Order, and time, and I will give you Design. But what we have subsequently learned is that not every variety of Order is sufficient for evolvability. As we saw illustrated by Conway's Game of Life, you have to have just the right sort of Order, with just the right mix of freedom and constraint, growth and decay, rigidity and fluidity, for good things to happen at all.

Her ideas were expressions of her inability to accept her own personal tragedy and her quest for some certainty on which she could rest a troubled spirit. Her her lack of education was a real handicap, because she had no historical or philosophical perspective from which to analyze her own experience of grief and loss. Because we lived in a cultural wasteland of suburbia, there were no schools or evening classes she might have attended which could offer an intellectually disciplined approach to her quest. Nor were there any churches which might have offered comfort through the beauty of their liturgy.

The world is too wonderful not to write it all down.

The inherent vice of capitalism is the unequal sharing of blessings; the inherent virtue of socialism is the equal sharing of miseries.

There is always tomorrow but tomorrow night be as bad as today.

Love is the greatest religion that ever was or ever will be.

A temperate fire never boils the water.

This isn’t what either of us planned, but it is what it is, and we have to make the best of it.

DON’T BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU THINK.

If I wasn't doing this, I'd be doing something else.

A good country song takes a page out of someone's life, and puts it into music.

Becoming sufficiently familiar with something is a substitute for understanding it.

This beautiful city is so vast it holds the story of every soul who's ever walked along the banks of the Thames.

Conway’s law: Organizations which design systems … are constrained to produce designs which are copies of the communication structures of these organizations.

You asked me to promise that I would make you happy forever. That was the contract we made … after you captured my heart.

explained Conway, “is a slang word meaning a lazy fellow, a good-for-nothing.

going to extend the view controllers in Homepwner to properly give their node information when the app is terminating

...Conway would give me no rest until I fought him. I felt it was ordained ages before our birth that we should meet on this planet and fight.

If you’re constantly worrying about something a hundred miles away, you’re liable to get killed by something two feet in front of you.

And one day I might just marry a virile, but tender, garage mechanic and have a big cowy family, like Dodo Conway. If I happened to feel like it.

There was so much unrecognized novelty in the collection that at one point18 upon opening a new drawer Conway Morris famously was heard to mutter, ‘Oh fuck, not another phylum.’ The

Their aura, their soul, conflicts with yours. Humans refer to it as intuition, sometimes,” she said. “But when you meet someone whose soul creates perfect harmony with yours, the result is …

At the end of the second week they were still working and Arretapec, Conway and their patient were being talked, whistled, cheeped and grunted about in every language in use at the hospital.

All living things must grow or they will die. Adaptation to change is a characteristic of all living systems. Thus, all living things must grow, adapt, evolve, or die. Evolution is nature’s creative way of pushing living organisms to higher degrees of complexity. We adapt up, not compromise down.

You like things to be beautiful, Conway had said, and been right. Over my own dead body was I going to stake myself down somewhere, being someone, that didn’t have all the beautiful I could cram into me. For ugly I could’ve stayed where I started, got myself a career on the dole and a wife who hated my guts and a dozen snot-faced brats and a wall-sized telly playing twenty-four-seven shows about people’s intestines. Call me arrogant, uppity, me the council-house kid thinking I deserved more. I’d been swearing it since before I was old enough to understand the thought: I was going to be more.

For him, information was not merely discrete or continuous, not strictly linear or even circular, not matter or energy, but something altogether new, extended in space and time—and very often alive. In

Used to be you could see the orange glow of the hi-intensity arc-sodiums from North Conway, but no more. Now there’s just the White Mountains, looking like dark triangles of crepe paper cut out by a child, and the pointless

In 1881, being on a visit to Boston, my wife and I found ourselves in the Parker House with the Ingersoll's, and went over to Charleston to hear him lecture. His subject was 'Some Mistakes of Moses,' and it was a memorable experience. Our lost leaders, -- Emerson, Thoreau, Theodore Parker, -- who had really spoken to disciples rather than to the nation, seemed to have contributed something to form this organ by which their voice could reach the people. Every variety of power was in this orator, -- logic and poetry, humor and imagination, simplicity and dramatic art, moral and boundless sympathy. The wonderful power which Washington's Attorney-general, Edmund Randolph, ascribed to Thomas Paine of insinuating his ideas equally into learned and unlearned had passed from Paine's pen to Ingersoll's tongue. The effect on the people was indescribable. The large theatre was crowded from pit to dome. The people were carried from plaudits of his argument to loud laughter at his humorous sentences, and his flexible voice carried the sympathies of the assembly with it, at times moving them to tears by his pathos. {Conway's thoughts on the great Robert Ingersoll}

You were contemplating the mountain, Mr. Conway?" Came the inquiry. "Yes, it's a fine sight. It has a name, I suppose?" "It is called Karakal" "I don't think I've ever heard of it. Is is very high?" "Over twenty-eight thousand feet." "Indeed? I didn't realize there would be anything on that scale outside the Himalayas. Has it been properly surveyed? Whose are the measurements?" "Whose would you expect, my dear sir? Is there anything incompatible between monasticism and trigonometry?

I leaned up and, before I could change my mind, I kissed him, right on the lips. And then I turned and ran back through the front door. “Blimey, Bee!” he called out after me. But when I glanced back, he was leaning against the door frame, grinning.

Gone are the days (if they ever existed) of the American Christian utopia. This is not your father’s “Christian America.” And on top of all this, our nation’s youth are leaving the church at record rates, and feeding this departure is a plethora of unchecked doubts.

To Miss Conway this was a challenge. Things which were somewhere had been stored by herself and could be located, but things which Alice had put in a safe place were often lost forever; the safeness of the place seemed to absolve her from the necessity of remembring where it was.

The famous computer scientist Melvin Conway coined an adage that is often referred to as Conway's Law. It states that any organization that designs a system will produce a design whose structure mirrors the organization's structure. Another way to say this is to beware of shipping your org chart.

a real danger by giving it an absurd name, the designations were often facetious: the Godel Gremlin, the Mandelbrot Maze, the Combinatorial Catastrophe, the Transfinite Trap, the Conway Conundrum, the Turing Torpedo, the Lorenz Labyrinth, the Boolean Bomb, the Shannon Snare, the Cantor Cataclysm…

being published. But I’d known Alan Conway for eleven years, or I thought I had, and I found it almost impossible to believe that he could have produced this, all four hundred and twenty pages of it. It was as if he was whispering to me as I lay there in the darkness, telling me something I didn’t want to hear.

Todd was trying to engage Conway in a conversation about trust. His show, the work he had done as a journalist in the past, and, more broadly, mainstream American media were built on the premise that people value trust. Politicians and journalists need the public to trust them; both can earn public trust, and each can lose it easily. Everybody lies, but no one wants to be caught lying—or so Todd thought. Conway was defending a liar’s right to lie. There were no facts in her universe, and no issue of trust. There was power. Power demanded respect. Power conferred the right to speak and not be challenged. Being right was a question of power, not evidence. Conway was outraged that Todd would violate this compact by calling the president’s statements ridiculous. Alternatively, perhaps she was not so much outraged as performing outrage as a way of putting the media on notice. That her outrage may or may not have been heartfelt was a message too: nothing could be taken at face value anymore.

Conway said quietly, “If you’d had all the experiences I’ve had, you’d know that there are times in life when the most comfortable thing is to do nothing at all. Things happen to you and you just let them happen. The War was rather like that. One is fortunate if, as on this occasion, a touch of novelty seasons the unpleasantness.” “You’re too confoundedly philosophic for me. That wasn’t your mood during the trouble at Baskul.” “Of course not, because then there was a chance that I could alter events by my own actions. But now, for the moment at least, there’s no such chance. We’re here because we’re here, if you want a reason. I’ve usually found it a soothing one.

The only way to get rid of feelings like that is to stop caring. Love and pain go hand in hand. So until the day you stop caring or your mind gets wiped or your heart stops beating, shadows of that pain will follow you. Always. But, Conway? For the sparkling moments and thrilling seconds and golden hours of loving and being loved? It's worth it.

The master group theorist John Conway, upon encountering the lattice in 1968, worked out all its symmetries in a twelve-hour spree of computation on a single giant roll of paper. These symmetries ended up forming some of the final pieces of the general theory of finite symmetry groups that preoccupied algebraists for much of the twentieth century.

When you’re faced with a choice, pick the option that scares you most.

Loving is easy. It’s forgiveness that’s the hard thing.

Those who are timid in love are the ones who will inevitably end up brokenhearted and alone.

I prefer edgy. Mean. The kind you look at and kinda know they have strings of meat between their teeth left over from lunchbreak.

And the deeper one delves, the clearer it is that each of these supply chains is interwoven with another. We are in a web, not a chain.

Her voice was very strong and quite earthy, quite a deep voice. I think their was a hint of soul to it.

He was a wanderer between two worlds and must ever wander...

He was so cheerful all the time it seemed like he might have brain damage.

The only thing you can count on in life is change.

One man can defeat a whole army with words alone

One man can influence change, but there are always followers

Snowmageddon. Dirty glacial clouds hammered the city's anvil. On the District of Columbia’s northwestern edge, gusts of snow rolled across the Park Road Bridge like volcanic ash.

He did not like his new pet name.

It is better to have a short meaningful life than to have a long meaningless one.

The power of science comes from being able to say something, without having to say everything.

Consider this. If we could compile an exhaustive case for Christianity that proved it with 100 percent certainty, guess what that would imply? There’d be no room for faith. And with no room for faith, there’s no room to please God by faith. Thankfully, God provides us reasonable evidence to believe and then asks us to trust Him with our unanswered questions.

God is not an object to be analyzed, but a Savior to be adored.

The Faery World intermingles with this world but lies within another dimension of time and space. Therefore, faeries are not bound by our material or physical laws.

he was doing pushups upside down in a handstand against the wall.

If you want to change the future, start living as if you're already there.

Doubt often leaves its victims in a state of desperation. There is an inner anguish associated with doubt. Like a lingering headache, it pounds with every beat of our heart, enslaving us with inner turmoil. Doubt can leave us emotionally wasted. Lonely. Confused. Depressed. Feeling hopeless. Wanting to give up. It can even lead once sold-out believers to contemplate suicide as they abandon all hope and embrace nihilism.17 Doubt’s lingering effects drain and deplete our intimacy with Jesus, making us feel fake around more confident believers. At times we even feel hypocritical as we doubt in the dark, away from possible ridicule or condemnation. Doubt can suffocate us. That’s why the church must respond. And fast.

We could all spend a lifetime unraveling the knots of our childhood, but at some point you realize the knots are no longer yours. They belong to your parents, and their parents before them. The legacy is long and complicated, the damage passed on through generations, until one day someone finally stops and says: This story does not belong to me. ~"This I Know

….unable to find a title for her last published novel, she wrote six lines which included her eventual title The Birds Fall Down. These lines were attributed to Conway Power (the name she generally appended to her poetry, even in her private notebooks), from a non-existent poem called ‘Guide to a Disturbed Planet.’ When the novel was published she had fun deflecting the enquiries of readers who wanted to know how to find the works of Conway Power. One was told a long story: Conway Power was a landowner in a remote area who had written thousands of poems and destroyed most of them. He had left some of them with her, given his property to a nephew, and gone abroad. ‘If I can trace the book (if there is a book) I’ll let you know.

elected because of those conflicts—his business savvy, connections, experience, and brand—not in spite of them, and that it was ludicrous for anyone to think he could untangle himself even if he wanted to. Indeed, to reporters and anyone else who would listen, Kellyanne Conway offered on Trump’s behalf a self-pitying defense about how great his sacrifice had already been.

It is because the ancients made astronomical calculations in base 60 that we still use this system for measuring time, dividing an hour into 60 minutes, and a minute into 60 seconds. In its path through the heavens, the sun takes roughly 360 days (actually 365.242199) to describe a complete circle, so it seems that the Babylonians divided a complete circle into 360 degrees (°).

The world of the future will be an ever more demanding struggle against the limitations of our intelligence, not a comfortable hammock in which we can lie down to be waited upon by our robot slaves.

In the early hymns of India the appellation asuras is given to the gods. Asura means a spirit. But in the process of time asura, like dæmon, came to have a sinister meaning: the gods were called suras, the demons asuras, and these were said to contend together. But in Persia the asuras—demonised in India—retained their divinity, and gave the name ahura to the supreme deity, Ormuzd (Ahura-mazda). On

and the boy to wash down which he would feed to himself in the Ruadh Cow at Tallaght and then into the Good Woman at Ringsend and after her inat Conway’s Inn at Blackrock and, first to fall, cursed be all, where appetite would keenest be, atte, funeral fare or fun fain real, Adam and Eve’s in Quantity Street by the grace of gamy queen Tailte, her will and testament: You stunning little southdowner!

Melania Trump had come down and wandered behind the sofa where Conway was proposing they sit. It was clear she was seething. “Not doing that,” Melania said in her Slovenian accent, dismissively waving her hand. “No way. No, no, no.” Bannon believed she had the most influence with Trump of anyone, that she could discern who was sucking up and who was telling the truth. “Behind the scenes she’s a hammer.

Conway's Law predicts: "Organizations which design systems are constrained to produce systems which are copies of the communication structures of these organizations."[1] Conway goes on to point out that the organization chart will initially reflect the first system design, which is almost surely not the right one. If the system design is to be free to change, the organization must be prepared to change.

There were three-legged dogs running around, and legends like Tim Conway on set. However, all this caused one particular Glee star to amp up her bitch factor. She made a huge deal about the dogs and demanded hand sanitizer any time one came near her. While the rest of us were in hysterics over Tim Conway’s constant improvising, it was throwing her off. Instead of just rolling with it, she kept interrupting. “So, like, um . . . are we going to do the scene as it’s written now?” Come on—if Tim Conway wants to improvise, you let him improvise! He’d even brought his granddaughter to the set because she was such a Glee fan, and she ended up crying because she couldn’t understand why someone was being such a bitch to her grandpa. Finally, my costar gave up, locked herself in her trailer, and refused to come out. Trust

I didn’t sleep well that night. I’m used to bad writing. I’ve looked at plenty of novels that have no hope of being published. But I’d known Alan Conway for eleven years, or I thought I had, and I found it almost impossible to believe that he could have produced this, all four hundred and twenty pages of it. It was as if he was whispering to me as I lay there in the darkness, telling me something I didn’t want to hear.

Dodo Conway was a Catholic who had gone to Barnard and then married an architect who had gone to Columbia and was also a Catholic. They had a big, rambling house up the street from us, set behind a morbid façade of pine trees, and surrounded by scooters, tricycles, doll carriages, toy fire trucks, baseball bat, badminton nets, croquet wickets, hamster cages and cocker spaniel puppies--the whole sprawling paraphernalia of suburban childhood.

He considers it his duty to help these founders understand the futility of persevering, so these brilliant people can move on to more worthwhile opportunities. The first obstacle Conway faces is the most obvious one: getting founders to actually recognize that the venture is failing and that it’s time for them to walk away. Conway is battling the host of cognitive and motivational forces that make it hard for these entrepreneurs to do that.

The unsigned will is one of those tropes of detective fiction that I’ve come to dislike, only because it’s so overused. In real life, a lot of people don’t even bother to make a will but then we’ve all managed to persuade ourselves that we’re going to live for ever. They certainly don’t go round the place threatening to change it in order to give someone the perfect excuse to come and kill them. It looked as if Alan Conway had done exactly that.

the dragonrider. Ulric scowled darkly, and stomped over to take it from me. He slung it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing at all, growling curses under his breath at me as he went to tie it down to the knight’s horse.

You know, he was very honest about it. He said, ‘What you do not use, you lose. These computers have so much potential, but they will ruin people’s brains.’ He said, ‘Swami, you will live to see it in the next century. I will not be here.

She was still holding onto that dream of becoming a writer, and that’s what she planned on doing today. She had all day to add some more words to her novel. It was her way of de-stressing, of getting away from the disaster that was her life.

In editing a volume of Washington's private letters for the Long Island Historical Society, I have been much impressed by indications that this great historic personality represented the Liberal religious tendency of his time. That tendency was to respect religious organizations as part of the social order, which required some minister to visit the sick, bury the dead, and perform marriages. It was considered in nowise inconsistent with disbelief of the clergyman's doctrines to contribute to his support, or even to be a vestryman in his church. In his many letters to his adopted nephew and younger relatives, he admonishes them about their manners and morals, but in no case have I been able to discover any suggestion that they should read the Bible, keep the Sabbath, go to church, or any warning against Infidelity. Washington had in his library the writings of Paine, Priestley, Voltaire, Frederick the Great, and other heretical works. [The Religion of Washington]

Last night, he told me about something that happened when I was little. He said I captured his heart, and that I made him promise to make me happy.” I flushed, looking away as I repeated the story. “I don’t remember it. I must have been too young.

For all the attention lavished on other sources of greenhouse gases such as aviation or deforestation, the production of cement generates more CO2 than those two sectors combined. Cement production accounts for a staggering 7–8 per cent of all carbon emissions.

Trump had no real relationship with either father or daughter. He’d had only a few conversations with Bob Mercer, who mostly talked in monosyllables; Rebekah Mercer’s entire history with Trump consisted of a selfie taken with him at Trump Tower. But when the Mercers presented their plan to take over the campaign and install their lieutenants, Steve Bannon and Kellyanne Conway, Trump didn’t resist. He only expressed vast incomprehension about why anyone would want to do that. “This thing,” he told the Mercers, “is so fucked up.

During a subsequent visit, however, Chang told him that there were other books published up to about the middle of 1930 which would doubtless be added to the shelves eventually; they had already arrived at the lamasery. “We keep ourselves fairly up-to-date, you see,” he commented. “There are people who would hardly agree with you,” replied Conway with a smile. “Quite a lot of things have happened in the world since last year, you know.” “Nothing of importance, my dear sir, that could not have been foreseen in 1920, or that will not be better understood in 1940.

Unraveling is letting go in the best way possible, untangling the knots that hold you back, unwrapping the gifts you've hidden far too long, unearthing the potential that's always been there, finally ditching the labels and should-haves, and letting yourself be what you were always meant to be.

The next day Kellyanne Conway, her aggressive posture during the campaign turning more and more to petulance and self-pity, asserted the new president’s right to claim “alternative facts.” As it happened, Conway meant to say “alternative information,” which at least would imply there might be additional data. But as uttered, it certainly sounded like the new administration was claiming the right to recast reality. Which, in a sense, it was. Although, in Conway’s view, it was the media doing the recasting, making a mountain (hence “fake news”) out of a molehill (an honest minor exaggeration, albeit of vast proportions

That’s when the news started to get fun. Kellyanne Conway, stoned, is a good time. It’s up there with Eddie Murphy’s Raw. Same for Sarah Suckabee Sanders. One day, Sarah Suckabee Sanders came out for her press briefing with emerald-green eye shadow shrouding one eye, and zero eye shadow on the other eye. I’d find myself laughing when Chris Matthews would interrupt his guests while spitting all over them, and I started to see the news for what it was: a twenty-four-hour spin cycle filled with conjecture and speculation about whatever idiotic or racist comment Trump had tweeted that day. I realized that I had allowed this

To say that concrete is everywhere is hardly an exaggeration. Despite the fact that we only began mass producing this mixture of sand, aggregates and cement just over a century ago, there are now more than 80 tonnes of concrete on this planet for every person alive – around 650 gigatonnes in total. To put that slightly meaningless number into perspective, it is considerably more than the combined weight of every single living thing on the planet: every cow, every tree, every human, plant, animal, bacterium and single-celled organism. Each year we produce enough concrete around the world to cover the entire landmass of England.

The proponents of Marxian biology appear in unexpected places. In the early disputes over evolution, the most effective aid to the Marxian line came from the humanitarian but conservative Christians, who not only rejected evolution on theological grounds, but who also looked with horror on the amoral viciousness of what they took to be natural selection. Marx himself had also objected to the competitive aspects of natural selection, so both his followers and the more conservative religious groups found themselves on the same side. In fact, the Marxian biologists of the last seventy-five years had their pathways made smooth by the Victorian fundamentalists.

What does Conway do to counter these vehement arguments? Nothing. He agrees with them that they can make it work. He doesn’t try to convince the founders that they’re wrong. Instead, he asks them what success would look like over the next few months. And he asks them for specifics. That conversation allows him to sit down with the founder and set performance benchmarks that would signal that the company was heading in the right direction. Then, they agree when to revisit those benchmarks and, if the venture is falling short, to have a serious discussion about shutting it down. This probably sounds a lot like Conway is using kill criteria, and that’s because he is.

In Paris (though he had just come four thousand miles from the river where it was born, though Bessie Smith herself had sung at a Negro dance ten miles from Briartree while they were packing for their trip abroad, and though Duff Conway, the greatest horn man of his time—for whose scratched and worn recordings Jeff was to pay as high as fifty and sixty dollars apiece—had been born and raised in Bristol, son of the cook in the Barcroft house on Lamar Street) Jeff discovered jazz. He fell among the cultists, the essayists on the ‘new’ American rhythms, including the one of whom Eddie Condon, when asked for an opinion, later said, “Would I go over there and tell him how to jump on a grape?

A few years ago some geologists sifted through the data [and] estimated that the amount of sand, soil and rock we humans mine and quarry and dredge each year is some 24 times greater than the amount of sediment moved each year by Earth’s natural erosive processes, which is to say rivers grinding away sand and sending it down towards the sea. Humans, in other words, are a considerably bigger geological force than nature itself, and have been, according to the data, ever since 1955. Or – another way of looking at it – by 2020 the total weight of human-made products, from iron to concrete and everything else besides, was greater than the total weight of every natural living thing on the planet.

There was also in his nature a trait which some people might have called laziness, though it was not quite that. No one was capable of harder work, when it had to be done, and few could better shoulder responsibility; but the facts remained that he was not passionately fond of activity, and did not enjoy responsibility at all. Both were included in his job, and he made the best of them, but he was always ready to give way to any one else who could function as well or better. It was partly this, no doubt, that had made his success in the Service less striking than it might have been. He was not ambitious enough to shove his way past others, or to make an important parade of doing nothing when there was really nothing doing. His dispatches were sometimes laconic to the point of curtness, and his calm in emergencies, though admired, was often suspected of being too sincere. Authority likes to feel that a man is imposing some effort on himself, and that his apparent nonchalance is only a cloak to disguise an outfit of well-bred emotions. With Conway the dark suspicion had sometimes been current that he really was as unruffled as he looked, and that whatever happened, he did not give a damn. But this, too, like the laziness, was an imperfect interpretation. What most observers failed to perceive in him was something quite bafflingly simple—a love of quietness, contemplation, and being alone.

if you’re on a pristine beach in the Caribbean or Hawaii, the chances are that your feet are probably sinking into parrotfish excrement: the fish eat the corals, extract the nutrients, and poop the remaining calcium carbonate on to the seabed. For the most part, the whiter and warmer the beach, the more likely it is to have come out of the bottom of a parrotfish.

The morning after my mother’s death, I was surprised to see the sunrise. From behind the curtain of my bedroom window I was surprised to see the people leave their homes and begin the day. Downstairs, the hands of the grandfather clock continued to tick, marking each passing hour with a chime that echoed over the black and white chessboard tiles of the front hall. I was surprised to see the mail come at the same time as the day before and, later that evening, the sun set once more as it did since the beginning of time. My mother’s death did not disturb the planets in their courses. And, though everything kept moving like she never existed at all, my world erupted into chaos until the universe swirled around me like a whirlpool of scattering stars.

would place beside her in my mind’s eye the young competent woman, proud, courageous, and generous, I’d known as a child. I was living with a tragic deterioration brought about because there was now no creative expression for this woman’s talents. Lacking a power for good, she sought power through manipulating her children. The mind that once was engaged in reading every major writer of the day now settled for cheap romances, murder mysteries, and a comfortable fuzz of tranquilizers and brandy at the end of the day. No one had directly willed her decline. It was the outcome of many impersonal forces, which had combined to emphasize her vulnerabilities. The medical fashion of the day decreed that troubled middle-aged women be given tranquilizers and sedatives. She, once a rebel, had acquiesced in settling down to live the life of an affluent woman.

Even the most familiar of dinosaurs may hold great surprises in their life appearance. It seems that every time the soft tissue of a dinosaur is discovered, our views of that animal, and usually all of its relatives as well, are changed drastically. Such revelations show how artificial our images of even the most well-known dinosaurs can be. What we are drawing all the time may not be the "real" animals themselves, but artifacts of an artistic tradition.

As soon as the hijackers’ names had been publicly released, Acxiom had searched its massive data banks, which take up five acres in tiny Conway, Arkansas. And it had found some very interesting data on the perpetrators of the attacks. In fact, it turned out, Acxiom knew more about eleven of the nineteen hijackers than the entire U.S. government did—including their past and current addresses and the names of their housemates. We may never know what was in the files Acxiom gave the government (though one of the executives told a reporter that Acxiom’s information had led to deportations and indictments). But here’s what Acxiom knows about 96 percent of American households and half a billion people worldwide: the names of their family members, their current and past addresses, how often they pay their credit card bills whether they own a dog or a cat (and what breed it is), whether they are right-handed or left-handed, what kinds of medication they use (based on pharmacy records) … the list of data points is about 1,500 items long.

1. If you are offended or hurt when you hear Hillary Clinton or Maxine Waters called bitch, whore, or the c-word, you should be equally offended and hurt when you hear those same words used to describe Ivanka Trump, Kellyanne Conway, or Theresa May. 2. If you felt belittled when Hillary Clinton called Trump supporters “a basket of deplorables” then you should have felt equally concerned when Eric Trump said “Democrats aren’t even human.” 3. When the president of the United States calls women dogs or talks about grabbing pussy, we should get chills down our spine and resistance flowing through our veins. When people call the president of the United States a pig, we should reject that language regardless of our politics and demand discourse that doesn’t make people subhuman. 4. When we hear people referred to as animals or aliens, we should immediately wonder, “Is this an attempt to reduce someone’s humanity so we can get away with hurting them or denying them basic human rights?” 5. If you’re offended by a meme of Trump Photoshopped to look like Hitler, then you shouldn’t have Obama Photoshopped to look like the Joker on your Facebook feed.

Here’s what I believe: 1. If you are offended or hurt when you hear Hillary Clinton or Maxine Waters called bitch, whore, or the c-word, you should be equally offended and hurt when you hear those same words used to describe Ivanka Trump, Kellyanne Conway, or Theresa May. 2. If you felt belittled when Hillary Clinton called Trump supporters “a basket of deplorables” then you should have felt equally concerned when Eric Trump said “Democrats aren’t even human.” 3. When the president of the United States calls women dogs or talks about grabbing pussy, we should get chills down our spine and resistance flowing through our veins. When people call the president of the United States a pig, we should reject that language regardless of our politics and demand discourse that doesn’t make people subhuman. 4. When we hear people referred to as animals or aliens, we should immediately wonder, “Is this an attempt to reduce someone’s humanity so we can get away with hurting them or denying them basic human rights?” 5. If you’re offended by a meme of Trump Photoshopped to look like Hitler, then you shouldn’t have Obama Photoshopped to look like the Joker on your Facebook feed. There is a line. It’s etched from dignity.

Think of the many articles one can find every year in the Wall Street Journal describing some entrepreneur or businessman as being a "pioneer" or a "maverick" or a "cowboy." Think of the many times these ambitious modern men are described as "staking their claim" or boldly pushing themselves "beyond the frontier" or even "riding into the sunset." We still use this nineteenth-century lexicon to describe our boldest citizens, but it's really a code now, because these guys aren't actually pioneers; they are talented computer programmers, biogenetic researchers, politicians, or media monguls making a big splash in a fast modern economy. But when Eustace Conway talks about staking a claim, the guy is literally staking a goddamn claim. Other frontier expressions that the rest of us use as metaphors, Eustace uses literally. He does sit tall in the saddle; he does keep his powder dry; he is carving out a homestead. When he talks about reining in horses or calling off the dogs or mending fences, you can be sure that there are real horses, real dogs or real fences in the picture. And when Eustace goes in for the kill, he's not talking about a hostile takeover of a rival company; he's talking about really killing something.

As we search and explore, we must be careful not to read the Bible as if it’s guilty until proven innocent. This is one sure way to turn our faith into a cold, pure science. And our relationship with God will die as the romance fades. Martin Luther, the well-known reformer, referred to this as the difference between a magisterial use of reason and a ministerial use of reason. Someone who practices the former places himself above the Scriptures and judges whether it is true or false. That person becomes the final arbiter of truth and error. However, the person who practices the latter submits himself under the Scriptures, trusting the Word of God as the final arbiter of truth. This is what Augustine referred to as “faith seeking understanding.

No one knows for sure who first invented glass. The earliest and most famous origin story comes from Pliny the Elder, the Roman soldier-intellectual who died in the eruption of Vesuvius in ad 79. The tale goes that many centuries earlier, Phoenician sailors had landed on a beach in what is now Israel. The Phoenicians, the great traders of the ancient era, were importing blocks of natron, an early form of soap rich in sodium (natron is why sodium’s chemical symbol is Na). Before turning in for the night, the Phoenicians lit a fire on the beach, and in the absence of anywhere else to rest their pots, they perched them on some of the natron blocks. As they lit their fire and heated the blocks of natron, something extraordinary happened. Pliny writes: “Upon its being subjected to the action of the fire, in combination with the sand of the seashore, they beheld transparent streams flowing forth of a liquid hitherto unknown: this, it is said, was the origin of glass.”[5

Even at this point, say Ressler and others, these potential hosts of monsters can be turned around through the (often unintentional) intervention of people who show kindness, support, or even just interest. I can say from experience that it doesn’t take much. Ressler’s theories on the childhoods of the worst killers in America have an unlikely ideological supporter, psychiatrist and child-advocate Alice Miller. Her emotionally evocative books (including The Drama Of The Gifted Child and The Untouched Key) make clear that if a child has some effective human contact at particularly significant periods, some recognition of his worth and value, some “witness” to his experience, this can make an extraordinary difference. I have learned that the kindness of a teacher, a coach, a policeman, a neighbor, the parent of a friend, is never wasted. These moments are likely to pass with neither the child nor the adult fully knowing the significance of the contribution. No ceremony attaches to the moment that a child sees his own worth reflected in the eyes of an encouraging adult. Though nothing apparent marks the occasion, inside that child a new view of self might take hold. He is not just a person deserving of neglect or violence, not just a person who is a burden to the sad adults in his life, not just a child who fails to solve his family’s problems, who fails to rescue them from pain or madness or addiction or poverty or unhappiness. No, this child might be someone else, someone whose appearance before this one adult revealed specialness or lovability, or value. This value might be revealed through appreciation of a child’s artistic talent, physical ability, humor, courage, patience, curiosity, scholarly skills, creativity, resourcefulness, responsibility, energy, or any of the many attributes that children bring us in such abundance. I had a fifth-grade teacher, Mr. Conway, who fought monsters in me. He showed kindness and recognized some talent in me at just the period when violence was consuming my family. He gave me some alternative designs for self-image, not just the one children logically deduce from mistreatment (“If this is how I am treated, then this is the treatment I am worthy of”). It might literally be a matter of a few hours with a person whose kindness reconnects the child to an earlier experience of self, a self that was loved and valued and encouraged.

Michael Freeman was thirty-five years old – a former Special Forces soldier turned policeman. He was a tall and slim black man, with grey-flecked hair and dark almond-shaped eyes. His smile was tight-lipped – half knowing and half strategic. It hid a mouthful of craggy teeth. A childhood in Detroit's East Side with an aggressive, alcoholic father had taught him to play things close to his chest, to look and listen. His colleagues knew him as a patient thinker, sedulous, missing nothing given time. Intellectually savvy and emotionally guarded, he exuded certitude. In Afghanistan, in the immediate aftermath of 9/11, he spent several weeks as a mounted outlier with the Northern Alliance in the Alma Tak Mountains, beyond the range of reinforcement or rescue – drinking filtered ditchwater and eating nuts scavenged from corpses – and calling down massive airstrikes on Taliban positions. He gained a certain reputation. Word spread the length of the Darya Suf River valley, through the Tiangi Gap to the stronghold at Mazar-i-Sharif that there was a monster loose in the mountains and the Taliban called him ‘bor-buka', which seemed to mean black or devil or whirlwind, and, at times, all of these things.

It was an accident of geography that placed Celtic’s stadium next to the city’s bitterest Loyalist enclave.

If you’re an immigrant getting deported, does it matter to you that the deporter-in-chief is the first African American president? If you’re in jail for marijuana possession or because your kids were truant at school, does it make a difference that it’s Kamala Harris who gleefully prosecuted you? Aren’t you delighted that Kellyanne Conway was the first woman to run a successful presidential campaign?

Our ire was reserved for SPL referees and perceived acts of bias against Glasgow Celtic Football Club.

If the organization has an expectation that “everyone should see every message in the chat” or “everyone needs to attend the massive standup meetings” or “everyone needs to be present in meetings” to approve decisions, then we have an organization design problem. Conway’s law suggests that this kind of many-to-many communication will tend to produce monolithic, tangled, highly coupled, interdependent systems that do not support fast flow. More communication is not necessarily a good thing.

You’re such a clever man.” “Yup. Good looking and a snappy dancer, too.” She laughed. “Don’t forget humble.” “Oh yeah, I’ve always felt my humility is what makes me so much better than everyone else.

When you get dressed up, put on everything you want, just the way you want it. Then take off one thing. (Preferably not the dress.)

Jonny Leroy of ThoughtWorks is the Inverse Conway Maneuver, which suggests evolving team and organizational structure together to promote the desired architecture.

Where it gets tricky is our deciding what we want Eustace Conway to be, in order to fulfill our notions of him, and then ignoring what doesn’t fit into our first-impression romantic image. My initial reaction on witnessing Eustace Conway’s life was relief. When I first heard of his life and his adventures, all I could think was Thank God. Thank God somebody in America was still living this way. Thank God there was at least one genuine mountain man, frontiersman, pioneer, maverick out there. Thank God there was one truly resourceful and independent wild soul left in this country. Because, at some deep emotional level, Eustace’s existence signified to me that somehow it’s still true, that we Americans are, against all other available evidence, a nation where people grow free and wild and strong and brave and willful, instead of lazy and fat and boring and unmotivated.

It goes without saying that this method of communal parking duties would be an impossibility in a country where stealing was common. If they tried this in South Africa, for example, everyone’s car would be stolen every day and it would end up as some sort of car roulette. Everyone would have a different car every day. In Libya, stealing is punishable by death, or something nearly as extreme, like leg removal. (I had better Google that.)

As soon as I was in the open desert the atmosphere changed completely. Anyone who has been in sand dunes will tell you that it is an experience so magical, so personal, yet so otherworldly, that it is never forgotten. The hairdryer heat, the stillness and the beauty of the contrasting horizon; dazzling, clear blue sky turning to pristine yellow/white sand produces a feeling of such vast immenseness that you cannot help but feel humbled. As I was riding I imagined an overhead camera view of me on the bike, the camera slowly pulling further and further back, a snaking tyre trail disturbing the patterns in the sand behind me, until I disappeared like a grain of sand in the ever- changing dune landscape. I defy anyone not to feel small and insignificant in this environment.

He sat back on his haunches to survey his work. The nomads were so incredibly graceful and peaceful, and the desert was so still, I was having a real experience here! Everything about their mannerisms and movements seemed in tune with the atmosphere of the desert: they oozed poise and serenity. This is the sense of the desert hills, that there is room enough and time enough.

The Doubly Green Revolution: Food for All in the Twenty-first Century (1999), Gordon Conway. Experience tells. Conway has seen it all and knows exactly how GE fits into simultaneously feeding the world and protecting the environment.

Even nature; the restless waves, irregular trees, and stars all out of line show that chaos can be beautiful!

Reigh Farrow! Are you even listening to me? You’re in no shape to be walking anywhere! I can’t believe Kiran even let you leave Ms. Lin’s house like this. You’ve torn nearly all your stitches and you’re bleeding all over your clothes.” Phoebe fussed like an angry sparrow, her voice echoing down the hallway before I even got to the top of the stairs. “Go back and lie down right now. So help me, I know where you keep your chaser root tea, and I will sedate you if that’s what it takes—HEY! Don’t make that face at me; I’m just trying to keep you alive! Isandri didn’t put up any fuss at all, but you’re acting like a big baby.

I am a door to pass through, not a final destination,” said Death after much time had passed, “a moment and not a lifetime. The road leads on beyond me; it is a path we all must take, but it stretches far further than you would ever believe.

essentially the human personification of a dandelion puff.

Your partner doesn’t fight fair.” “Her job is to win. Not to fight fair.

was working on the Erotic Postures of Astyanassa, who was the maid of Helen of Troy, at the moment. I don’t know whether Astyanassa got her information from that lady or not, she but had them all down on parchment, and I copied them faithfully in the flesh.

There was wall-to-wall cotton shag carpeting in beige, holding metal-framed Van Keppel-Green lounges and chairs, a KLH stereo system, wooden walls rising to a high ceiling, a mahogany bar that separated from the rest of the room the cookerie where I could scramble up some eggs and ham for late night snacks. There were four cushioned stools in front of the bar proper, and a glass shelf display of bottles behind, that opened into the kitchen on the far side. Ferns and cactus in brass pots and barrels added a kind of outdoorsy look to the whole place.

Left-Handedness The 10 percent of human beings who are left-handed have long been considered unlucky, deceptive, or even evil in cultures the world over. During the Spanish Inquisition the Catholic Church condemned those who used their left hand. Zulu tribesmen of the 1800s placed the left hands of children into holes filled with boiling water to discourage their use. The nineteenth-century criminologist and white supremacist Cesare Lombroso lent dangerous authority to the long-standing social stigma, claiming a scientific connection between left-handedness, moral degeneracy, and the “savage races.” No wonder schoolteachers continued discouraging it in students, often through physical abuse. J. W. Conway’s 1935 On Curing the Disability and Disease of Left-Handedness argued that being a lefty was a handicap in a world that was industrializing and standardizing. Handicap? Turns out being a southpaw is a fast lane to the West Wing. Seven of our last fifteen presidents—that’s a whopping 47 percent—have been left-handed. I’m not sure what that means but I’m sure a CNN panel will eventually sort it out.

turn it off if you are not there

There were peach trees growing here and plum trees, and even some ling-chih fungus. I gaped,

Eureka

My men can eat their belts,’ General George S. Patton told Dwight Eisenhower, ‘but my tanks have gotta have gas.

As things stand, China controls about 80 per cent of the world’s battery production capacity. Indeed, according to Benchmark Mineral Intelligence, one of the chroniclers of this new era of gigafactories, even if all the European and American grand visions for battery production actually materialised, by the beginning of the 2030s China will still be turning out seven out of every ten batteries produced anywhere in the world.

Electricity is no longer just the second greatest thing in the world after God; it is the first great hope for addressing climate change.

there is an important distinction between this use of fossil fuels and the way we mostly used them in the preceding three centuries. Here, we are building with them, not burning them.

Brothers and sisters,’ said the man. ‘I want to tell you this. The greatest thing on earth is to have the love of God in your heart, and the next greatest thing is to have electricity in your house.’ This was the early 1940s. The man was a farmer, speaking at a church in rural Tennessee. His farm had been electrified not long before and he was occasionally seen out there, sitting on a knoll, gazing in wonder at the lights blazing out from his house, his barn and his smokehouse.

He was one more arbitrary statistic in the War on Terror, which has proven much more effective at incubating pitiless enemies and punishing innocent victims than it has at creating global consensus on freedoms or the rule of law.

I was crapping myself, man, but you know you should always do the thing that frightens you.

There are definite advantages to being a middle-aged woman, society's least visible demographic, at the top of the foremost secret service in the world. If no one even sees you, how could they ever suspect you of holding one of the most powerful positions on the planet?

And yet you decided your calling was the CIA? What is it you think we do here, son? Bake cookies?

He liked the prevalent mood in which feelings were sheathed in thoughts and thoughts softened into felicity by their transference into language. Conway, whom experience had taught that rudeness is by no means a guarantee of good faith, was even less inclined to regard a well-turned phrase as a proof of insincerity. He liked the mannered, leisurely atmosphere in which talk was an accomplishment, not a mere habit. And he liked to realize that the idlest things could now be freed from the curse of time-wasting, and the frailest dreams receive the welcome of the mind. Shangri-La was always tranquil, yet always a hive of un-pursuing occupations; the lamas lived as if indeed they had time on their hands, but time that was scarcely a featherweight.

What makes this all the more discomforting is not merely the bad stuff—the carbon emissions whose consequences we are finally starting to understand, the particulate pollution in our cities and the plastic waste in our seas—but the good stuff too. It is the billions of lives lived thanks to oil and gas. It is the fact that oil and gas are so useful as well as so destructive.

Obsidian, a jet-black stone used by our prehistoric ancestors as a tool, is actually a kind of volcanic glass formed by magma as it rapidly cools into stone.

There are tektites: glassy pebbles created by meteorites or comets smashing into the earth’s surface, bits of which then fuse into shiny stones. There are fulgurites: gnarly, hollow tubes you sometimes find on a beach or dune after a lightning strike.

Indeed, if you’re on a pristine beach in the Caribbean or Hawaii, the chances are that your feet are probably sinking into parrotfish excrement: the fish eat the corals, extract the nutrients, and poop the remaining calcium carbonate on to the seabed. For the most part, the whiter and warmer the beach, the more likely it is to have come out of the bottom of a parrotfish.

Until he worked his great coup, Conway Limbeck was a minor criminal preying on the gullible-minded and larcenous-hearted.

Reducing our carbon footprint will mean increasing our copper footprint.

If much of what makes us human is our determination to turn one substance into another, then salt is among our most important tools.

Khewra salt mine in Pakistan, which is said to date back to the era of Alexander the Great. You’ve probably encountered Khewra salt before; it is better known these days as pink Himalayan salt, though the mine is actually about 200 miles from the Himalayan foothills, making this a cheeky bit of marketing, a little like bottling London’s River Thames and selling it as Yorkshire Dales spring water.

And iron is indeed everywhere. It courses through our bodies in our red blood cells. It is the main element in the planet’s core and the second most abundant metal in the earth’s crust (at 5 per cent, after aluminium which is 8 per cent).

The tools and built environments of hair salons and the platforms powering the airline industry are examples of something called Conway’s law, which says that in absence of stated rules and instructions, the choices teams make tend to reflect the implicit values of their tribe.

In 1968, Melvin Conway, a computer programmer and high school math and physics teacher, observed that systems tend to reflect the people and values who designed them. Conway was specifically looking at how organizations communicate internally, but later Harvard and MIT studies proved his idea more broadly. Harvard Business School analyzed different codebases, looking at software that was built for the same purpose but by different kinds of teams: those that were tightly controlled, and those that were more ad-hoc and open source.10 One of their key findings: design choices stem from how their teams are organized, and within those teams, bias and influence tends to go overlooked.

But what if current misery hindsightfully selects and reconstructs memories of childhood to be consistent with a miserable state today? Peter Lewinsohn and Michael Rosenbaum (1987) set out to answer this question with a rare prospective study of over a thousand citizen volunteers. [...] The results were consistent with the hypothesis that recollection of one’s parents as rejecting and unloving is strongly influenced by current moods; negative recollections were not a stable characteristic of depression-prone people. [...] This study of depression is important in that it casts doubt on the degree to which adult problems are caused by childhood ones. Given a biasing effect of mood on memory, people who are distressed as adults tend to remember distressing incidents in their childhood. And, if a person also believes that current problems have their roots in early life (perhaps because their therapist told them so), this view itself may serve as an organizing principle to produce even greater distortion of recall (remember the Conway & Ross [1984] study).

He was making it sound as if I was strong and brave. He didn’t realize how frightened I was inside. How my ribbon was in my bag. How I’d found it stuffed down the back of my bed and still needed it just to get through the day. How I’d never really done anything brave in my whole entire life. His eyes never left my face. “If anyone can walk into that room, Maddie Wilkins – late, or early, or anything – it’s you.

Kellyanne Conway is one of the strongest and most cunning people I know.

I love you, Josie. I know it probably doesn’t make any sense to you, but I have been yours alone ever since that day.

When I turned it over, I realized there were dozens of teeny little spell circles and symbols engraved onto the back of the stone. They were so small you’d need a magnifying glass just to see them.

An incline/decline conveyor is just one of many types of conveyor systems that allow moving goods faster, safely and steadily while changing the vertical level. It is known that the standard speed for most unit-handling conveyors is 60 feet per minute (ft/min). This is equal to the average speed of a warehouse worker carrying a 50-pound box. However, the speed of workers is significantly reduced when moving cargo vertically. This is typical of many mezzanine order picking and assembly operations. No one worker can maintain a smooth working rhythm with no loss of efficiency during the shift, moving goods up and down from a lower level to a higher level and vice versa.

In the Cheshire town of Northwich, not far from where the brine comes out of the ground, you will find another part of this salt diaspora, an old ICI site run these days by Tata Chemicals, which also owns British Salt. That the Cheshire salt which once provided Gandhi with the cause for his iconic satyagraha is now being produced by an Indian company is one of those ironies little appreciated outside the Material World.

People in software engineering may be correctly reminded of Conway’s Law, which is commonly stated as “If you have four groups working on a compiler, you’ll get a 4-pass compiler.” (Credited to Eric S. Raymond.)

In software, Dr. Melvin Conway independently observed that any organization that designs a system (defined broadly) will produce a design whose structure is a copy of the organization’s communication structure. The larger an organization is, the less flexibility it has and the more pronounced the phenomenon. What Conway observed was that once an organization’s social circuitry (Layer 3) is set, it will dictate the architecture of the technical systems (Layer 1).

They have been together thirty-two years. No children – it didn’t happen for them – and the widespread assumption that she sacrificed motherhood for her career brings its own special pain. But they have a companionship that suits them.

the Aegean Sea is a vast swathe of inky velvet studded with diamond crystals

Mr. Conway,

People on the internet who claim to have seen Rachel in Paris. Brazil. Even one a few months ago nearby in North Conway. But of course, these are unsubstantiated claims. Your mum vanished without a trace on February thirteenth, 2008. What do you think happened to her?

Dan looked out to the desert, where Conway and Kyle now stared. And together, they all felt the chill of twilight begin to prickle against their sun-baked arms and upon their tight faces.

sand, salt, iron, copper, oil and lithium