Credit Tips Quotes

It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listens to the repeated tale, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges help, gives credit, says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the lonely, is the whole thing. What is most beautiful is least acknowledged. What is worth dying for is barely noticed.

It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listens to the repeated tale, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges help, gives credit, says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the lonely, is the whole thing. What is most beautiful, is least acknowledged. What is worth dying for is barely noticed.

Pay up." Eve rolled over, rubbed her bare butt, and wondered if she'd have rug burns. Still vibrating from the last orgasm, she closed her eyes again. "Huh?" "Fifty credits." He leaned over, gently kissed the tip of her breast. "You lost, Lieutenant." "I'm naked," she pointed out. "I don't generally keep credits up my -- " "I'm happy to take your IOU." He rose, all graceful, gleaming muscles, and took a memo card from his console. "Here you are." Handed it to her. She stared down at it, knowing dignity was as lost as the fifty credits. "You're really enjoying this." "Oh, more than you can possibly imagine." Scowling at him, she engaged the memo. "I owe you, Roarke, fifty credits, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve." She shoved the memo at him. "Satisfied." "In every possible way." He thought, sentimentally, that he would tuck the memo away with the little gray suit button he'd kept from their very first meeting. "I love you, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, in every possible way.

When I first started following writers on social media, I imagined a deluge of profound quotes, writing tips and insights into the plight of wordsmiths. There was some of that. Mostly though, my timeline was taken up with their obsession with coffee: 'I want coffee/I'm having coffee/I've had coffee.' Then came photos of their favourite coffee mug/pot/shop/barista. So, if you've enjoyed a recently-published book, give credit to writers: the vampiric aficionados of the coffee cherry.

The three of us exchanged glances but said nothing. After all, what was there to say? The truth was that hookers did take credit cards—or at least ours did! In fact, hookers were so much a part of the Stratton subculture that we classified them like publicly traded stocks: Blue Chips were considered the top-of-the-line hooker, zee crème de la crème. They were usually struggling young models or exceptionally beautiful college girls in desperate need of tuition or designer clothing, and for a few thousand dollars they would do almost anything imaginable, either to you or to each other. Next came the NASDAQs, who were one step down from the Blue Chips. They were priced between three and five hundred dollars and made you wear a condom unless you gave them a hefty tip, which I always did. Then came the Pink Sheet hookers, who were the lowest form of all, usually a streetwalker or the sort of low-class hooker who showed up in response to a desperate late-night phone call to a number in Screw magazine or the yellow pages. They usually cost a hundred dollars or less, and if you didn’t wear a condom, you’d get a penicillin shot the next day and then pray that your dick didn’t fall off. Anyway, the Blue Chips took credit cards, so what was wrong with writing them off on your taxes? After all, the IRS knew about this sort of stuff, didn’t they? In fact, back in the good old days, when getting blasted over lunch was considered normal corporate behavior, the IRS referred to these types of expenses as three-martini lunches! They even had an accounting term for it: It was called T and E, which stood for Travel and Entertainment. All I’d done was taken the small liberty of moving things to their logical conclusion, changing T and E to T and A: Tits and Ass!

A truly unselfish team player does not care who gets credit for success and is willing to take on blame when things don’t go right. Unfortunately, we live in a world when the selfish seem to outnumber the unselfish. Pat Riley points out that the people who create 20 percent of a team’s effectiveness may feel that they are deserving of 80 percent of the credit and rewards. The weaker links on a team or in an organization are often the ones who clamor for more credit.

I’d grown fascinated with the tipping points in the sixties and seventies and eighties, when women moved from not being able to open a credit card account in their own names to running successful businesses of all kinds, like Meadow Sweet Organic Farms,

i said, so what do you want to do? you said paint the sky black, break pearl necklaces and watch the beads dance on the wooden floor, open a bakery and only serve pecan pies, take my dog to church, open windows in the middle of winter, burn the taste of your tongue off of my skin, ask strangers for their laughter, open your neighbors mail, tip the waitress way too much, fly myself to anywhere but here, open doors for all kinds of people, bleed my secrets into your soul, cancel credit cards, watch old couples, young couples, say things like i love you and mean it

Everything from self-help guides to teen magazines regularly feature tips on 'being your own best friend' and 'reaffirming your self-worth'. Advice includes such gems as writing down 'amazing things about yourself every morning'. So if we wonder where Generation Snowflake gets its sense of self-regard from, the self-esteem movement must take some of the credit (or blame). It is an industry dedicated to creating ego-boosting, self-oriented youth.

Still, Kagan’s decades-long series of discoveries mark a dramatic breakthrough in our understanding of these personality styles—including the value judgments we make. Extroverts are sometimes credited with being “pro-social”—meaning caring about others—and introverts disparaged as people who don’t like people. But the reactions of the infants in Kagan’s tests had nothing to do with people. These babies were shouting (or not shouting) over Q-tips. They were pumping their limbs (or staying calm) in response to popping balloons. The high-reactive babies were not misanthropes in the making; they were simply sensitive to their environments. Indeed, the sensitivity of these children’s nervous systems seems to be linked not only to noticing scary things, but to noticing in general.

How many times do we take credit for the work of our own hands, believing we are working harder and smarter than everyone else, and that somehow we deserve the success we have achieved? Like Nebuchadnezzar, I have basked in my own success and declared my perceived value with only a mere hat-tip to the Creator of it all. I've been full of myself, full of my pride. And like King Nebuchadnezzar, I have stood on the brink of disaster without a worry in the world. "While the word was in the king's mouth, a voice came from heaven, saying, 'King Nebuchadnezzar, to you it is declared: sovereignty has been removed from you'" (Daniel 4:31). The word sovereignty here means the ability to rule the kingdom. The verse is startling. While the boastful words are still in the kings mouth, God takes Nebuchadnezzar's kingdom away from him. In an instant . Wow! Most of my failures have taken some time for the consequences to kick in, but I wonder if there was an instant, while the words were still in my mouth, when the Father determined--at that very moment--so strip me of my kingdom. Perhaps you have witnessed (or experienced) a similar kingdom-stripping.

You okay to make it back to the bed?” I nodded. “It’s not my fault. Leon—Apollo—whoever he is—didn’t fix me right. Godly powers my—” “I did fix you, but you were dead. Give me some credit,” Apollo said. I jumped, smacking my hand on my chest. Apollo sat on the edge of the toilet seat, one leg crossed over the other. Beside me, Aiden bowed stiffly. “My master.” “Oh, my gods,” I said. “Seriously. Are you trying to kill me again by giving me a heart attack?” Apollo tipped his head at Aiden. “I’ve already told you. You don’t need to do the ‘master’ and bowing business with me.” Little sparks of electricity rimmed those all-white eyes. “Why are you out of bed? Doesn’t getting stabbed warrant some downtime?” He smiled at Aiden, who was now standing. “She really is hard to take care of, isn’t she?” Aiden looked a little pale. “Yeah…” “I… I felt gross.” Apollo disappeared from the bathroom and popped up behind Aiden. Marcus took a step back, his eyes wide. He bowed too, and I really thought for a moment that Marcus was going to drop to his knees. “Good gods,” Aiden said under his breath as he led me out of the bathroom. I stared at the hulking god in the corner of the room as I climbed back into bed. “Did anyone know about this?

The Republic of Foo, our high-investment, intangible economy of the future, has significantly overhauled its land-use rules, particularly in major cities, making it easier to build housing and workplaces; at the same time, it invests significantly in the kind of infrastructure needed to make cities livable and convivial, in particular, effective transport and civic and cultural amenities, from museums to nightlife. In some cases, this involves rejecting big development plans that destroy existing places. It has faced political costs in making this change, especially from vested interests opposed to new development or gentrification, but the increased economic benefits of vibrant urban centers have provided enough incentive to tip the balance of power in favor of development. The cities of the Kingdom of Bar have chosen one of two unfortunate paths: in some cases, they have privileged continuity over dynamism in its towns—creating places like Oxford in the UK, which are beautiful and full of convivial public spaces, but where it is very hard to build anything, meaning few people can take advantage of the economic potential the place creates. Other cities resemble Houston, Texas, in the 1990s—a low-regulation paradise where an absence of planning laws keeps home and office prices low, but where the lack of walkable centers and convivial places makes it harder for intangibles to multiply. (To Houston’s credit, it has changed for the better in the last twenty years.) The worst of Bar’s cities fail in both regards, underinvesting in urban amenities and making it hard to build. In all three cases, the economic disadvantage of not having vibrant cities that can grow have become larger and larger as the importance of intangibles has increased.

Imagine yourself sitting at a computer, about to visit a website. You open a Web browser, type in a URL, and hit Enter. The URL is, in effect, a request, and this request goes out in search of its destination server. Somewhere in the midst of its travels, however, before your request gets to that server, it will have to pass through TURBULENCE, one of the NSA’s most powerful weapons. Specifically, your request passes through a few black servers stacked on top of one another, together about the size of a four-shelf bookcase. These are installed in special rooms at major private telecommunications buildings throughout allied countries, as well as in US embassies and on US military bases, and contain two critical tools. The first, TURMOIL, handles “passive collection,” making a copy of the data coming through. The second, TURBINE, is in charge of “active collection”—that is, actively tampering with the users. You can think of TURMOIL as a guard positioned at an invisible firewall through which Internet traffic must pass. Seeing your request, it checks its metadata for selectors, or criteria, that mark it as deserving of more scrutiny. Those selectors can be whatever the NSA chooses, whatever the NSA finds suspicious: a particular email address, credit card, or phone number; the geographic origin or destination of your Internet activity; or just certain keywords such as “anonymous Internet proxy” or “protest.” If TURMOIL flags your traffic as suspicious, it tips it over to TURBINE, which diverts your request to the NSA’s servers. There, algorithms decide which of the agency’s exploits—malware programs—to use against you. This choice is based on the type of website you’re trying to visit as much as on your computer’s software and Internet connection. These chosen exploits are sent back to TURBINE (by programs of the QUANTUM suite, if you’re wondering), which injects them into the traffic channel and delivers them to you along with whatever website you requested. The end result: you get all the content you want, along with all the surveillance you don’t, and it all happens in less than 686 milliseconds. Completely unbeknownst to you. Once the exploits are on your computer, the NSA can access not just your metadata, but your data as well. Your entire digital life now belongs to them.

Imagine yourself sitting at a computer, about to visit a website. You open a Web browser, type in a URL, and hit Enter. The URL is, in effect, a request, and this request goes out in search of its destination server. Somewhere in the midst of its travels, however, before your request gets to that server, it will have to pass through TURBULENCE, one of the NSA’s most powerful weapons. Specifically, your request passes through a few black servers stacked on top of one another, together about the size of a four-shelf bookcase. These are installed in special rooms at major private telecommunications buildings throughout allied countries, as well as in US embassies and on US military bases, and contain two critical tools. The first, TURMOIL, handles “passive collection,” making a copy of the data coming through. The second, TURBINE, is in charge of “active collection”—that is, actively tampering with the users. You can think of TURMOIL as a guard positioned at an invisible firewall through which Internet traffic must pass. Seeing your request, it checks its metadata for selectors, or criteria, that mark it as deserving of more scrutiny. Those selectors can be whatever the NSA chooses, whatever the NSA finds suspicious: a particular email address, credit card, or phone number; the geographic origin or destination of your Internet activity; or just certain keywords such as “anonymous Internet proxy” or “protest.” If TURMOIL flags your traffic as suspicious, it tips it over to TURBINE, which diverts your request to the NSA’s servers. There, algorithms decide which of the agency’s exploits—malware programs—to use against you. This choice is based on the type of website you’re trying to visit as much as on your computer’s software and Internet connection. These chosen exploits are sent back to TURBINE (by programs of the QUANTUM suite, if you’re wondering), which injects them into the traffic channel and delivers them to you along with whatever website you requested. The end result: you get all the content you want, along with all the surveillance you don’t, and it all happens in less than 686 milliseconds. Completely unbeknownst to you. Once the exploits are on your computer, the NSA can access not just your metadata, but your data as well. Your entire digital life now belongs to them.

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It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listens to the repeated tale, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges help, gives credit, says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the lonely, is a whole thing. What is most beautiful is least acknowledged. What is worth dying for is barely noticed.

It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listened to the repeated tale, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges help, gives credit, says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the lonely, is a whole thing. What is most beautiful is least acknowledged. What is worth dying for is barely noticed.

It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listed to the repeated tale, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges helo, gives credit says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the loney, is a whole thing. What is most beautiful is least acknowledged. What is worth dying for is barely noticed.

She grabbed up her cutlass and pointed it at him, accusingly. “You—” Her hand was trembling, and she saw humor dancing in his eyes as he looked at the jiggling sword tip. “You escaped. . .” “Aye.” He gave a lewd, suggestive wink. “Proud of me?” “Proud?” “Aye. Your pirate here is smarter than you give him credit for.” He tapped his temple and grinned. “I merely plucked the key from you when you lay senseless in my arms. You really didn’t expect me to berth on that filthy pallet, now, did you?

Paranoia over being cheated out of one’s rightful share. Along with feeling that they are not appreciated, these individuals are routinely concerned about who gets credit and who gets blame. No credit given to them is ever enough, and too much offered to a teammate is flat-out wrong. They are concerned not with the team’s success, but with whether they are going to get credit for any success.

20% Wilshire 5000 Total Mkt TR USD 20% FTSE NAREIT All REITs TR 20% MSCI ACWI Ex USA GR USD 15% Barclays US Long Credit TR USD 15% Barclays US Treasury US TIPS TR USD 10% MSCI EM PR USD

I guess there’s nothing else to say.” “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said, crooking a finger. “Come here.” Her throat went dry, and her heart gave a thud. On instinct, she shook her head. His expression turned ruthlessly intent. “Maddie, I’ve been thinking about that mouth of yours for almost twenty-four hours straight. You don’t think I’m going to let you go without touching you, do you?” Had it only been one day? How was that even possible? It seemed as though a lifetime had passed since she’d run out on her wedding. “Um . . .” She swallowed hard and squeaked out, “Yes?” A long pause filled with sexual awareness so thick it practically coated the air. How did he do it, flip the mood? Only moments ago, she’d felt bereft, but with one wicked glance she’d forgotten everything dogging her. “I’ll tell you what.” He smiled, and it was so filled with cunning that the fine hairs on her neck rose in anticipation. “Tell me you won’t regret it and we can end things right here with a friendly pat on the back.” “I-I d-don’t know what you mean,” she lied, loving and hating the direction the conversation had taken. “Do I need to spell it out?” “No?” The word was a question instead of the statement she’d intended. “You want to take care of yourself, right?” She nodded, sensing a trap but unable to stop playing into his hands. He leaned close, placing his elbow on the console, taking up every spare inch of breathing room. “You’re ready to ditch the good Catholic girl and start doing what you want?” The strange mixture of lust and irritation he evoked pulled in her stomach. “Well, when you put it that way.” The curve of his lips held a distinct sexual tilt. “If you get out of this car untouched, tell me you won’t lie in bed late at night and regret it. Tell me you won’t wonder and wish you’d done things differently.” Her pulse hammered and her throat dried up, leaving her unable to breathe, let alone speak. He stroked a path over the line of her jaw, and Maddie forced her eyes to stay open instead of fluttering closed from sheer desire. Why did it feel like an eternity since he’d touched her? Even more troubling, why did his hands feel so right? The slightly rough pads of his fingers trailed down the curve of her neck, leaving an explosion of tingles coursing through her. “And remember, Princess,” he said, in a deep rumble of a voice that vibrated through her as though he were her own personal tuning fork. “Lying is a sin.” She gasped, sucking in the last available bit of air left in the car. “That’s a low blow.” He gave a seductive laugh, filled with heat and promise and the kind of raw passion she’d always dreamed about. “I’m not above playing dirty.” A sly smirk as he rubbed a lazy circle over skin she hadn’t known was sensitive. “In fact, I think you prefer it that way.” “I do not!” Her heart beating far too fast, she clutched at the credit card hard enough to snap it in two. “Liar.” He slipped under the collar of her T-shirt to wrap a possessive hand around the nape of her neck. “I’m waiting.” She gritted her teeth to keep from moaning. How did one man feel so good? Hot and sinful. Irresistible. She whispered, “For what?” “My answer,” he said, inching closer. Their mouths mere inches away. She swallowed hard. The truth sat on the tip of her tongue, and for once in her life, she decided to speak it instead of stuffing it back down. “I’d regret it.” “Exactly,” he said, the word a soft breath against her skin. The pad of his thumb brushed over her bottom lip, sliding over the dampness until it felt swollen. Needy. “I can’t live with myself unless I’ve tasted this mouth.” This

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How Much Money Can We Afford To Give To Charity? Knowing how much money you can safely give to charity is challenging for everyone. Who doesn’t want to give more to make the world a better place? On the other hand, no one wants to become a charity case as a result of giving too much to charity. On average, Americans who itemize their deductions donate about three or four percent of their income to charity. About 20% give more than 10% of their income to charity. Here are some tips to help you find the right level of donations for your family: You can probably give more than you think. Focus on one, two or maybe three causes rather than scattering money here and there. Volunteer your time toward your cause, too. The money you give shouldn’t be the money you’d save for college or retirement. You can organize your personal finances to empower you to give more. Eliminating debt will enable you to give much more. The interest you may be paying is eating into every good and noble thing you’d like to do. You can cut expenses significantly over time by driving your cars for a longer period of time; buying cars—the transaction itself—is expensive. Stay in your home longer. By staying in your home for a very long time, your mortgage payment will slowly shrink (in economic terms)with inflation, allowing you more flexibility over time to donate to charity. Make your donations a priority. If you only give what is left, you won’t be giving much. Make your donations first, then contribute to savings and, finally, spend what is left. Set a goal for contributing to charity, perhaps as a percentage of your income. Measure your financial progress in all areas, including giving to charity. Leverage your contributions by motivating others to give. Get the whole family involved in your cause. Let the kids donate their time and money, too. Get your extended family involved. Get the neighbors involved. You will have setbacks. Don’t be discouraged by setbacks. Think long term. Everything counts. One can of soup donated to a food bank may feed a hungry family. Little things add up. One can of soup every week for years will feed many hungry families. Don’t be ashamed to give a little. Everyone can do something. When you can’t give money, give time. Be patient. You are making a difference. Don’t give up on feeding hungry people because there will always be hungry people; the ones you feed will be glad you didn’t give up. Set your ego aside. You can do more when you’re not worried about who gets the credit. Giving money to charity is a deeply personal thing that brings joy both to the families who give and to the families who receive. Everyone has a chance to do both in life. There Are Opportunities To Volunteer Everywhere If you and your family would like to find ways to volunteer but aren’t sure where and how, the answer is just a Google search away. There may be no better family activity than serving others together. When you can’t volunteer as a team, remember you set an example for your children whenever you serve. Leverage your skills, talents and training to do the most good. Here are some ideas to get you started either as a family or individually: Teach seniors, the disabled, or children about your favorite family hobbies.

The ritual of paying the bill and publicly tipping the women provided men like Chu Xanh with a symbolic vocabulary to critique the U.S. credit system and demonstrate Vietnam’s ability to mobilize liquid capital to make deals in an increasingly Asian-centered economy.

Did you know that there are more Mobile Phone users than:   --  there are automobiles on the planet?   --  there are credit cards?   --  there are TV’s?   --  there are computers?

REITs. Real Estate Investment Trusts, or REITs (pronounced “reets”), are companies that own and collect rent from commercial and residential properties.10 Bundled into real-estate mutual funds, REITs do a decent job of combating inflation. The best choice is Vanguard REIT Index Fund; other relatively low-cost choices include Cohen & Steers Realty Shares, Columbia Real Estate Equity Fund, and Fidelity Real Estate Investment Fund.11 While a REIT fund is unlikely to be a foolproof inflation-fighter, in the long run it should give you some defense against the erosion of purchasing power without hampering your overall returns. TIPS. Treasury Inflation-Protected Securities, or TIPS, are U.S. government bonds, first issued in 1997, that automatically go up in value when inflation rises. Because the full faith and credit of the United States

Personal finance can be tough! A mother who was once in debt along with a bad credit score is here to share her credit fixing strategies, tips, and advice. Indebted Mom is a financial blog about one woman's journey out of a bad credit score and an overwhelming amount of student loan debt. Some posts are about my debt specifically, while others share tips for others who are also overwhelmed by their debt. Many posts examine how attitude affects finances, work-life balance, and earning more money.

Tips to Manage your student loan by The Student Loan Help Center Managing Your Student Loans Apply these responsible financial management principles, as you repay your student loans: Consider the advantages of loan forgiveness programs. These programs are available to students who agree to work in high-need fields like nursing and education. Enrolling in the military often makes you eligible for loan forgiveness. Essentially, you commit to work or serve for a designated period of time, in exchange for complete or partial loan forgiveness. Make student loan payments on time. In some cases, your interest rate may qualify for reduction after you make a certain number of consecutive on-time payments. If you have a cosigner, he or she may also be released from responsibility for the loan, once you have exhibited a required level of consistency with your repayments. Defaulting on your student loans has far-reaching consequences, so it should never be an option. Manage your loan repayment schedule using online calculators. If you are considering a consolidation loan, use these tools to quickly determine your total loan repayment obligation. Take advantage of federal education tax incentives, like the student loan interest deduction and Hope Scholarship Credit. Student Loan Tips: Use student loans to supplement other financial aid awards, like grants and scholarships. Make sure to start a college savings plan as early as possible. College accounts like the 529 savings plans allow you to save pre-tax money for college. Understand the terms of your federal and private student loans, before you sign on. You will be bound to the conditions of your loans for many years. Don’t miss payments. Be proactive in protecting your credit, by contacting your lender before you default. You can consider consolidation loans, deferments and other accommodations of the available options, to keep your repayment schedule on track. For more Questions you can contact The Student Loan Help Center.

Opening European Trade with Asia Marco Polo was an Italian merchant whose travels introduced Europeans to Central Asia and China. In the 13th century the traditional trade route leading to China was overland, traveling through the Middle East from the countries of Europe. Marco Polo established this trade route but it required ships to carry the heavy loads of silks and spices. Returning to Italy after 24 he found Venice at war with Genoa. In 1299, after having been imprisoned, his cell-mate recorded his experiences in the book “The Travels of Marco Polo.” Upon his release he became a wealthy merchant, married, and had three children. He died in 1324 and was buried in the church of San Lorenzo in Venice. Henry the Navigator charted the course from Portugal to the Cape of Good Hope on the southern tip of Africa and is given credit for having started the Age of Discoveries. During the first half of the 15th century he explored the coast of West Africa and the islands of the Atlantic Ocean, in search of better routes to Asia. Five years after Columbus discovered the West Indies, Vasco da Gama rounded the southern point of Africa and discovered a sea route to India. In 1497, on his first voyage he opened European trade with Asia by an ocean route. Because of the immense distance around Africa, this passage became the longest sea voyage made at the time.

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for fees to be waived. For instance, if you have a late fee on your credit card, call the company and ask for it to be waived. Or if you

The address of the Tip O'Neill building is 10 Causeway Street. It may be torn down soon, because it is one of the most wonderfully unsightly buildings ever constructed. In the eighties they blew up a grand hotel that had gone seedy, and in its place they built this shrine to Congressman Tip O'Neill. It houses all the federal offices - the office of Social Security, and the Firearms Legitimization Bureau, the Bioshock Informant Management Corps, and the Soy Protein Tax Credit Administration, and the Federal Security Corn Slab Ektachrome Mediocrity Desk, plus another twelve important outposts of American impotence. And it has wireless Internet.

There are signs, however, that a good time was had all last night. Jo might have found herself caught in the middle of a love triangle, but she clearly didn't mind staying around when she thought that one of the angles had been dispensed with. The remains of dinner still grace the table---dirty dishes, rumpled napkins, a champagne flute bearing a lipstick mark. There's even one of the Chocolate Heaven goodies left in the box---which is absolute sacrilege in my book, so I pop it in my mouth and enjoy the brief lift it gives me. I huff unhappily to myself. If they left chocolate uneaten, that must be because they couldn't wait to get down to it. Two of the red cushions from the sofa are on the floor, which shows a certain carelessness that Marcus doesn't normally exhibit. They're scattered on the white, fluffy sheepskin rug, which should immediately make me suspicious---and it does. I walk through to the bedroom and, of course, it isn't looking quite as pristine as it did yesterday. Both sides of the bed are disheveled and I think that tells me just one thing. But, if I needed confirmation, there's a bottle of champagne and two more flutes by the side of the bed. It seems that Marcus didn't sleep alone. Heavy of heart and footstep, I trail back through to the kitchen. More devastation faces me. Marcus had made no attempt to clear up. The dishes haven't been put into the dishwasher and the congealed remnants of last night's Moroccan chicken with olives and saffron-scented mash still stand in their respective saucepans on the cooker. Tipping the contents of one pan into the other, I then pick up a serving spoon and carry them both through the bedroom. I slide open the wardrobe doors and the sight of Marcus's neatly organized rows of shirts and shoes greet me. Balancing the pan rather precariously on my hip, I dip the serving spoon into the chicken and mashed potatoes and scoop up as much as I can. Opening the pocket of Marcus's favorite Hugo Boss suit, I deposit the cold mash into it. To give the man credit where credit is due, his mash is very light and fluffy. I move along the row, garnishing each of his suits with some of his gourmet dish, and when I've done all of them, find that I still have some food remaining. Seems as if the lovers didn't have much of an appetite, after all. I move onto Marcus's shoes---rows and rows of lovely designer footwear---casual at one end, smart at the other. He has a shoe collection that far surpasses mine. Ted Baker, Paul Smith, Prada, Miu Miu, Tod's... I slot a full spoon delicately into each one, pressing it down into the toe area for maximum impact. I take the saucepan back into the kitchen and return it to the hob. With the way I'm feeling, Marcus is very lucky that I don't just burn his flat down. Instead, I open the freezer. My boyfriend---ex-boyfriend---has a love of seafood. (And other women, of course.) I take out a bag of frozen tiger prawns and rip it open. In the living room, I remove the cushions from the sofa and gently but firmly push a couple of handfuls of the prawns down the back. Through to the bedroom and I lift the mattress on Marcus's lovely leather bed and slip the remaining prawns beneath it, pressing them as flat as I can. In a couple of days, they should smell quite interesting. As my pièce de résistance, I go back to the kitchen and take the half-finished bottle of red wine---the one that I didn't even get a sniff at---and pour it all over Marcus's white, fluffy rug. I place my key in the middle of the spreading stain. Then I take out my lipstick, a nice red one called Bitter Scarlet---which is quite appropriate, if you ask me---and I write on his white leather sofa, in my best possible script: MARCUS CANNING, YOU ARE A CHEATING BASTARD.

In fact, some investment advisors say the only completely safe bond is one backed by the full faith and credit of the United States. And you can actually buy US bonds called Treasury inflation-protected securities, or TIPS, that rise in value to keep up with inflation through the consumer price index.

Do you have gorgeous, lustrous curly hair? Well, you may wonder about different hairstyles or even complain about the magnificent curls. However, opting for a French braid on the curly mane can change your whole outlook. French braid, also known as French plait, is undoubtedly a timeless classic. It has the ability to give an air of sophistication and grace. The conventional French braid doesn’t strain the hair and causes few breakages, leading to healthy hair. How to French Braid Curly Hair Steps to French braid the curly hair? Follow these steps to French braid the curly hair. • Part the hair from the middle. • Now start a regular braid on the side. • Before crossing, get a little bit of the main hair and add it to the small section that is now taken to the middle area. • Repeat this addition till all the main hair gets used. • After that, proceed with the traditional braiding style and finish it off with a hairband. How to French Braid Curly Hair Can the right hairbrush aid in making the perfect French braid? Do you desire the perfect French braid on your curly tresses? Well, with the best styling brush, attaining that illustrious French braid is easy and manageable. If you are looking for the best brush for your hair, stop! Check out NuWay DoubleC Brush! It is a patented brush that comes with a multitude of features. Here, you will find a speedy dry, ergonomic shape to circular venting scheme. Why choosing NuWay DoubleC Brush is the best choice for a French braid? NuWay DoubleC Brush offers different features that inevitably make it the best scalp brush. • DoubleC Curve The Double C shape brush aids in offering depth and helps in lifting added volumes. • Carries hair care products With a broad curve, the NuWay DoubleC Brush can carry hair products with ease. It is indeed the best brush for applying hair care products. • Circular venting scheme The circular venting scheme decreases the drying time, thus offering speed dry. Moreover, it also protects against heat. • Ergonomic shape With an ergonomic shape, the brush assists in scalp care. Now, you can get the perfect braid with ease! • Non-slip grip The NuWay DoubleC Brush comes with a TPR handle. It indicates a non-slip grip and aids in detangling hairs. No wonder it is credited as the best brush for detangling tresses. • Easy to clean The brush is exceptionally easy to clean. You only need some detergent and water to wash off the dirt. Then, air dries it in a cool place for further use. • Tips diffused with argan oil The tips of the bristles are smeared with argan oil, maintaining the softness and shine of the hair. These also promote blood circulation and stimulate the hair follicles. These spectacular features definitely make the NuWay DoubleC Brush even more appealing. Magnificent, right? Get this impressive hairbrush on Amazon here!

This last phenomenon has been replicated in a pair of restaurant studies in which patrons received their bills on tip trays that either did or did not contain credit-card logos. The diners tipped significantly more in the presence of the logos, even when they paid with cash.

I rang out a couple more customers as I thought about it, and...he slowly walked up to the counter and set down two spools of line. I should really figure out what the point of one being thicker than the other was. “Hi, Mr. Rhodes,” I greeted him with a smile. He’d taken his sunglasses off and slid them through one of the gaps between the buttons of his work shirt. His gray eyes were steady on me as he said in that same uninterested, stern tone from before, “Hi.” I took the first package of fishing line and scanned it. “How is your day going?” “Fine.” I scanned the next package and figured I might as well go in for the kill since no one was around. “You remember that time you said you owed me?” A day ago. He didn’t say anything, and I peeked up at him. Since his eyebrows couldn’t talk, they formed a shape that told me exactly how distrustful he was feeling right then. “You do, okay. Well,” and I lowered my voice, “I was going to ask if I could redeem that favor.” Those gray eyes stayed narrowed. This was going well. I glanced around to make sure no one was listening and quickly said, “When you aren’t busy… could you teach me about all this stuff? Even if it’s just a little bit?” That got him to blink in what I was pretty sure was surprise. And to give him credit, he too lowered his voice as he asked slowly and possibly in confusion, “What stuff?” I tipped my head to the side. “All this stuff in here. Fishing, camping, you know, general knowledge I might need to work here so I have an idea of what I’m doing.” There was another blink. I might as well go for it. “Only when you aren’t super busy. Please. If you can, but if you can’t, that’s okay.” I’d just cry myself to sleep at night. No biggie. Worst case, I could hit up the library on my days off. Hang out in the grocery store parking lot and google information. I could make it work. I would, regardless. Dark, thick, black eyelashes dipped over his nice eyes, and his voice came out low and even. “You’re serious?” He thought I was shitting him. “Dead.” His head turned to the side, giving me a good view of his short but really pretty eyelashes. “You want me to teach you to fish?” he asked like he couldn’t believe it, like I’d asked him to… I don’t know, show me his wiener. “You don’t have to teach me to fish, but I wouldn’t be opposed to it. I haven’t been in forever. But more about everything else. Like, what is the point of these two different kinds of line? What are all the lures good for? Or are they called flies? Do you really need those gadgets to start a fire?” I knew I was whispering as I said, “I have so many random questions, and not having internet makes it hard to look things up. Your total is $40.69, by the way.” My landlord blinked for about the hundredth time at that point, and I was pretty sure he was either confused or stunned as he pulled his wallet out and slipped his card through the reader, his gaze staying on me for the majority of the time in that long, watchful way that was completely different from the way the older men had been eyeballing me earlier. Not sexually or with interest, but more like I was a raccoon and he wasn’t sure if I had rabies or not. In a weird way, I preferred it by a lot. I smiled. “It’s okay if not,” I told him, handing over a small paper bag with his purchases inside. The tall man took it from me and let his eyes wander to a spot to my left. His Adam’s apple bobbed; then he took a step back and sighed. “Fine. Tonight, 7:30. I’ve got thirty minutes and not one longer.” What! “You’re my hero,” I whispered. He looked at me, then blinked. “I’ll be there, thank you,” I told him. He grunted, and before I could thank him again, he was out of there so fast I had no chance to check out his butt in those work pants of his.

However, if these factories could be consolidated, the owner of a Swedish match monopoly could raise prices and make a fortune. Some factories in Sweden recently had combined, to form the Jönköping-Vulcan trust, but the men running the trust were conservative and slow. Ivar was sure he could dominate them. He began using loans from the Swedish Credit Bank to buy match factories throughout Sweden. During the next eight years, Ivar parlayed a few family match factories into a conglomerate. He modernized factories and expanded overseas sales. Production increased from 90,000 cases in 1914 to double that in 1916; his profits more than tripled.12 He reduced costs by purchasing the companies that made his machines, as well as companies that supplied chlorate acid potash for the tips. The hardball tactics Ivar used to take over competitors must have reminded Lee Higg’s partners of John D. Rockefeller, who used a similar approach to acquire competitors of his company Standard Oil.

Financial literacy lessons should be introduced at an early stage of schooling. Basic concepts like budgeting, saving, and the importance of credit should be integrated into the curriculum. This approach ensures that young minds absorb essential financial knowledge at the right time.

I decided to take the semester off so I could sort out exactly what the faefucks I was doing before wasting my hard-earned bar tips on more college credits I may not even use.

Baartman is often seen to symbolize the sexist and racist ways that Black women’s bodies and sexuality are perceived. Big Black bottoms have become synonymous with sex. Black female artists like Nicki Minaj are chastised for showcasing their considerable backsides in service for their own ends. Or they are disrespected: on a 2011 episode of Live with Regis and Kelly, Regis Philbin reached out and patted Minaj’s behind without her consent.8 Meanwhile, Black male artists—including Nelly, whose infamous “Tip Drill” video showed the artist swiping a credit card down the crack of a Black woman’s behind—and White female artists such as Lily Allen, who sings, in “Hard Out Here,” “Don’t need to shake my ass, cause I’ve got a brain” while flanked by Black women shaking their asses, are defended in the name of art … or irony … or … just lighten up. And nonfamous women and girls who happen to walk around in Black bodies every day? Cheryl Contee of Jack & Jill Politics asked five fellow panelists—Black women all—at a 2011 Netroots Nation conference whether they had ever been mistaken for prostitutes. Every hand on the panel went up. Her encounter, Contee says, happened as she left a dentist’s office with her mother following a root canal, looking “deeply unsexy.”9

Likotsi's feet were slightly numb from the cold but surprisingly unblistered despite the new shoes as they crossed the tip of the island from east to west through the Financial District, filled with imposing old buildings and statues of the men credited with building America. She had never understood the veneration of these men, who took their own biases and made them into a country's laws, but Americans were quite strange, after all.

I was barely ever bad-tempered with Marcel, and my tone made him press his lips together to keep from smiling. When I parked in front of Mr. Anderson’s house, he stretched over to take my face in his hands. He handled me very thoroughly, touching just the tips of his fingers softly against my temples, my cheekbones, my jawline. Like I was exceptionally breakable. Which was specifically the case-compared with him, at most limited. ‘You should be in a good mood, today of all days,’ he muttered. His unseasoned breath crossed my face. ‘Moreover, if I don't want to be in a good mood?’ I asked, my breathing irregular. His golden eyes smoldered. ‘Too bad.’ My head was already spinning by the time he leaned closer and pressed his icy lips against mine. As he intended, no doubt, I forgot all about my worries and concentrated on remembering how to inhale and exhale. His mouth lingered on mine, cold and smooth and gentle until I wrapped my arms around his neck and threw myself into the kiss with a little too much enthusiasm. I could feel his lips curve upward as he let go of my face and reached back to unlock my grip on him. Marcel had drawn many careful lines for our physical relationship, with the intent being to keep me alive. Though I respected the need for maintaining a safe distance between my skin and his razor-sharp, venom-coated teeth, I tended to forget about trivial things like that when he was kissing me. ‘Be good, please,’ he breathed against my cheek. He pressed his lips gently to mine one more time and then pulled away, folding my arms across my stomach. My pulse was thudding in my ears. I put one hand over my heart. It drummed hyperactivity under my palm. ‘Do you think I'll ever get better at this?’ I wondered, mostly to myself. ‘That my heart might someday stop trying to jump out of my chest whenever you touch me?’ ‘I hope not,’ he said, a bit smug. I rolled my eyes. ‘Let's go watch the Capulets and Montagues hack each other up, all right?’ ‘Your wish, my command.’ Marcel sprawled on the couch while I started the movie, fast-forwarding through the opening credits.

Even though a particular book might be “free,” you’ll still need a 1-Click payment method at Amazon to download them. You’ll get a receipt in your email that will show the purchase but nothing will show up on your credit card or bank statement.

Opal Raines stood on a cliff high above the surf that beat into the rocks on Cape Point at the southmost tip of the African continent. In front of her was the Indian Ocean and the islands of the Far East; to her right the Southern Ocean, Antarctica, and the icy bottom of the earth; at her back the Atlantic and the Americas; and on her left the vast plains of Africa where she had sometimes lived, and where she had been worshiped by wild lions. She read again the notification that had come today from Switzerland: Dear Ms. Raines. This is to notify you that the sum of ten million dollars (US) was transferred today into your account at Credit Suisse by Stella Clair Rose. Opal tore the notice into small pieces, and watched them fly from her hand, blown by the African breeze out across the ocean water. Her laugh followed the pieces as they floated away, drifting out wherever the wind would take them, toward Indonesia, the Banda Sea, Papua New Guinea, the great expanse of the Pacific — all her world, the world of the statistical outlier merging time past, and time not yet come, with this moment. All as unpredictable as shadows, as ghosts. Sometime later, that laugh, floating on an eastbound wind, would reach the California coast and come to rest where it did once before — on Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles where Heron White’s body landed after he crashed through a twelfth-floor window at the end of a hallway outside a dentist’s office one rainy day at noon.

You were not the typical kid,” Jonathan says. Billie laughs at this and tips her head backward over Jonathan’s knees to smile at him. There’s sand speckling her cheekbones, stuck in the delicate lines around her eyes, and he gently wipes it away. “Anyway, Olive is tougher than you’re giving her credit for.

I am sitting across from the Wall Street investor and CEO of CBS, Larry Tisch. He is somewhat more charming than the fleshy gargoyle face would suggest. And he was, I must say, very good humored when he asked me to reach up to the overhead compartment to get down his jacket and I tipped it upside down so all his money and pens and credit cards rained down on his bald head, and he had to grovel around under the seat and retrieve them. I was tempted to hang on to his Amex.

Listen to me.” Before Miranda could take another step, Etienne blocked her path and caught her firmly by the shoulders. “I already told you, I saw what it did to Jonas. And I’m not gonna let that happen to you.” There was cold, hard truth in his eyes. And a determination so strong, it nearly overpowered her. “Miranda?” Ashley’s concern broke the tension. “Please?” Etienne released her. As Miranda reluctantly faced the group around the table, she could see every intent expression waiting for her response. “We really can help you,” Ashley said softly. “Please let us.” Miranda turned back to Etienne. His gaze was sure and steady. “You need friends, cher. And we’re your friends.” Seconds dragged by while she tried to think. She was hurt and confused; she was flattered and touched and even strangely relieved. The reality of her life was crowding in on her, much too close, much too quick. “It wouldn’t be so scary with us around.” Roo said philosophically. Tipping his cup, Parker shook more ice into his mouth and slanted Roo a look. “Not true. It’s always scary with you around.” “Give us some credit.” Gage winked at Miranda. “We might surprise you if you give us a chance.” “You don’t have to be in this alone,” Ashley insisted. Yet despite the positive support, Miranda couldn’t shake her bewilderment or her doubts. “Why are you doing this?” she asked them. You’re already friends, and people like you don’t let strangers into your exclusive little group. Besides that, how could you possibly understand what you’re getting into, when I don’t even understand it myself? “You don’t even know me.” “Etienne threatened us.” Yawning loudly, Parker gave a long stretch, then wheezed as Ashley punched him in the ribs. “I’m kidding! Hey, I’m kidding, okay? Damn, Ashley!” “You might as well say yes, Miranda,” Ashley persisted as if Parker weren’t there. “Because we’re going to help you find out about poor Nathan one way or another.” “How?” Miranda challenged. “How are you doing to do that?” “Well…we…don’t know yet. We’re still…still…” “Trying to decide if I’m as crazy as my grandpa was?” To Miranda, the uneasy silence spoke volumes. It lasted only a second, but that was long enough for her heart to drop. “Look, you guys.” Her tone came out harsher than she’d intended. What was I thinking? I should have just kept on walking. “This is private, okay? And I don’t need any help, and it really doesn’t matter if you believe me, so--” “I believe you,” Gage said quietly. “You know I do,” Roo echoed. “And me.” Ashley’s head bobbed up and down. Scowling, Parker glanced at each of them. Then he folded his arms across his chest, leaned back, and scowled harder. “Well, I don’t believe her. I don’t believe any of y’all, and I think you’re all crazy. But…what the hell.” “Well, cher.” Etienne faced Miranda. “The sooner we start, the better, yeah?