D&d Incorrect Quotes

Assumptions are dangerous things to make, and like all dangerous things to make -- bombs, for instance, or strawberry shortcake -- if you make even the tiniest mistake you can find yourself in terrible trouble. Making assumptions simply means believing things are a certain way with little or no evidence that shows you are correct, and you can see at once how this can lead to terrible trouble. For instance, one morning you might wake up and make the assumption that your bed was in the same place that it always was, even though you would have no real evidence that this was so. But when you got out of your bed, you might discover that it had floated out to sea, and now you would be in terrible trouble all because of the incorrect assumption that you'd made. You can see that it is better not to make too many assumptions, particularly in the morning.

I’d say go to hell, but I never want to see you again.

I’d discovered, after a lot of extreme apprehension about what spoons to use, that if you do something incorrect at table with a certain arrogance, as if you knew perfectly well you were doing it properly, you can get away with it and nobody will think you are bad-mannered or poorly brought up. They will think you are original and very witty.

You know what your problem is, Justina? You're in desperate need of a good shag. "Not that I'm offering you one myself, mind. My days as a whore ended back in the seventeen hundreds." The gin was abruptly sucked back into my lungs as I gasped. He did not just tell my mother about his former profession; sweet Jesus, let me have heard incorrectly! I hadn't, and Bones went right on. "... But I have a friend who owes me a favor and he could be persuaded to... Kitten, are you all right?" I'd stopped breathing as soon as he casually admitted to his prior occupation. Add that to the liquid stuck in my lungs, and no, I wasn't all right.

Luce," Jude said, stopping me, "I get what a piece of shit I am, and it's not awful or unfair or incorrect for people to call me out on what I am. But I'd like to think a person can change, and I swear to you I'm going to try to leave me piece of shitedness behind.

George: 'Ringo would always say grammmatically incorrect phrases and we'd all laugh. I remember when we were driving back to Liverpool from Luton up the M1 motorway in Ringo's Zephyr, and the car's bonnet hadn't been latched properly. The wind got under it and blew it up in front of the windscreen. We were all shouting, 'Aaaargh!' and Ringo calmly said, 'Don't worry, I'll soon have you back in your safely-beds.

Remind me to show you the latest e-mail from Courtney," he said now, kicking at a rock on the sidewalk. "You won't believe how many different incorrect ways she spelled hors d'oeuvres within the span of a single paragraph.

But you'd get arguments from all kinds of people that the Bible has got to be perfect. That God would not permit such errors to be made in the Holy Word." "I thought God gave everyone free will. Which would presumably - and evidently - include the freedom to be incorrect when translating one language into another." "Stop making me think. I'm believing over here.

The difference between communism and socialism is that under socialism central planning ends with a gun in your face, whereas under communism central planning begins with a gun in your face.

Was it possible I’d labeled him incorrectly? Shallow jocks didn’t overcome adversity and accomplish the things Leif had. I’d labeled him, not even knowing him. Just because girls went gaga over him and every boy wanted to be him didn’t make him a jerk. The only jerk in the room happened to be the judgmental, elitist female. Me.

Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, diagnosing it incorrectly, and applying the wrong remedies. - Groucho Marx

If I’m chasing the wrong thing, what I’m chasing will end up chasing me. And in the end, I’m less likely to be the one doing the catching.

I will never be through with you, ever. I don’t know what I have to do to get you to realize that you’re my everything. I exist to love you, you’re my meaning of life, my reason to be, you were made for me and I was made to make you mine. What we have is too important to me to just throw away because of a picture and an incorrect quote. But you have got to have some faith in me Layla. I would never hurt you, you have to know that. I may get angry, lose my temper and storm away but I will always calm down and I will always come back. I could never leave you behind. I’d be lost without you.

I'd say go to hell, but I never want to see you again.

It would be difficult to find in the United States any profession so dedicated to socialism as that of educators, and difficult to find any argument for socialism as popular as the cause of public education.

We base our decisions on emotion instead of logic. We incorrectly assume there’s a direct correlation between our fear level and the risk level. But often, our emotions are just not rational. If we truly understood how to calculate risk, we’d know which risks were worth taking and we’d be a lot less fearful about taking them. WE

I'd discovered, after a lot of extreme apprehension about what spoons to use, that if you do something incorrect at table with a certain arrogance, as if you knew perfectly well you were doing it properly, you can get away with it and nobody will think you are bad-mannered or poorly brought up. They will think you are original and very witty.

It’s not like me and Lesley are inconspicuous,’ I’d said. Nightingale had winced, as he always does, at my incorrect use of the accusative pronoun but I think I’m beginning to wear him down.

I grew up believing in God without having a clue what He is like. I called myself a Christian, was pretty involved in church, and tried to stay away from all of the things that 'good Christians' avoid- drinking, drugs, sex, swearing. Christianity was simple: fight your desires in order to please God. Whenever I failed (which was often), I'd walk around feeling guilty and distant from God. In hindsight, I don't think my church's teachings were incorrect, just incomplete. My view of God was narrow and small.

Karma and hell and suffering aren’t things in their own right but disturbances in this flimsy substance of false self. The problem isn’t in the disturbing things but in the thing disturbed. The thing disturbed is the false thing and if it weren’t there, there’d be nothing to be disturbed. Nothing to get pierced or burned or dried out. Nothing to be wounded or slain.

I've tried to teach what I learned all those years in my mother and father's house, all those things I didn't realize I was learning and that I never knew I'd be so grateful for. When you have love and it's proffered every day in a kind of tender, yet stern insistence and even reckless laughter, when it is given to you and you accept it in life as a thing as natural as rain or snow, or the littler of leaves in fall, you can't help but take it for granted. For a bewildered while you incorrectly understand that the world has given you this becuase it's there in equal measure, everywhere. You never knowuntil it's too late to do anything about it, how seet the effort is: how lasting the human will to love can be in the breast of people who want to make it for you, who want to give it to you, without calculating what's in it fo them, without thinking at all of what it will mean when you grow to full adulthood, see the world as it is, and forget to mention what you have been given. Ever day of my grown-up life, I have wanted to do what my parents did. I have wanted to widen the province of love and weaken hate and bitterness in the hearts of my children. And I've done these things because of what I got from my family, all those lovely years when I was growing up, being loved and cherished and, unbeknown to me, and in the best way, honored, for myself.

Hayati?” “Yeah, that one. What does it mean?” He was quiet for so long she had started to think he’d never answer. “There is no English translation for this name,” he finally said. She smiled. “Try. Get as close as you can.” His dark eyes searched her gaze. “It means, my life.” Her forehead wrinkled. “My life?” Hani pulled her head down and forced her to rest against his chest. He said nothing for a suspended moment and then, “My life,” he murmured. “My love.

It was not for nothing that Adam Smith wrote that “people of the same trade seldom meet together, even for merriment and diversion, but the conversation ends in a conspiracy against the public, or in some contrivance to raise prices.” The romantic notion of politics holds that Big Business is synonymous with capitalism and the archenemy of socialism. In fact, Big Business is reliably against most of what must go into any modern definition of capitalism: free trade, free enterprise, free markets, and the impartial rule of law. Big Business reliably seeks to use the state to seek advantages in trade and to crush smaller (and often more innovative) competitors.

I'd discovered, after a lot of extreme apprehension about what spoons to use, that if you do something incorrect at table with certain arrogance, as if you knew perfectly well you were doing it properly, you can get away with it and nobody will think you are bad-mannered or poorly brought up. They will think you are original and very witty.

Sonja used to say that Ove had only admitted he was wrong on one occasion in all the years they had been married, and that was in the early 1980s after he'd agreed with her about something that later turned out to be incorrect. Ove himself maintained that this was a lie, a damned lie. By definition he had only admitted that she was wrong, not that he was.

the necessary thing from the socialists’ point of view is not egalitarian economic outcomes, but state control.

We are women. We talk. We all do. I love to talk. It's my reason for being. No. It's my raison d'etre. Now that is fucking classy. Not everyone has one. A classy one. Anyway.

Suppose you have a group of fifty experimental subjects, who you hypothesize (H) are human beings. You observe (O) that one of them is an albino. Now, albinism is extremely rare, affecting no more than one in twenty thousand people. So given that H is correct, the chance you’d find an albino among your fifty subjects is quite small, less than 1 in 400,* or 0.0025. So the p-value, the probability of observing O given H, is much lower than .05. We are inexorably led to conclude, with a high degree of statistical confidence, that H is incorrect: the subjects in the sample are not human beings.

I wasn’t around, and I guess if I had been, I would have been part of the oppressor class and think it was the way things should be. But I have been told that things are a lot better now. I won’t say they’re perfect. Things don’t get perfect. But most of the women I know are happy. They don’t think there’s many battles left to fight.” “You’d better stop there,” Robin cautioned. “Most women have always been happy with the way things were, or at least they said so. That goes back to before peckish society allowed women to vote. Just because we of the Coven believe some things that I now know are overstated or incorrect, don’t draw the conclusion that we are foolish about everything. We know that the majority is always willing to let things remain as they are until they are led to something better. A slave may not be happy with her lot, but most do nothing to improve it. Most do not believe it can be improved.

...recent research suggests that presenting people with proof that their beliefs are incorrect doesn't change their minds. Instead, it actually reinforces their erroneous beliefs, as they work hard to defend them against fact and logic.

Notably, far from being a proto-socialist, Bolívar was a man who traveled with a copy of Adam Smith’s The Wealth of Nations, a man who so admired Thomas Jefferson that he sent a favored nephew to study at the University of Virginia, which Jefferson had designed.

I stood staring at this man, who accepted me fully, and it dawned on me for the very first time, he might be a better person than I was. I'd picked apart every action he'd ever made and weighed it by my scale of correct and incorrect, while he simply accepted me for everything I was.

I'd left her in Sciences 442, after a long, trying day. The spectacularly bitchy text war she pitched with her brother wasn't even the worst of it. She didn't show me the original message she sent him, but I saw the ones he'd returned. No, you didn't find my spy, he insisted. He's obviously still at large. For instance, I can tell you right now that you're wearing all black, and that Jamie Watson is annoyed with you. I have eyes watching you right now. THAT IS NOT SPYING THAT IS SHODDY AMATEUR DEDUCTION AND IT IS INCORRECT, she replied furiously. She was, of course, wearing all black.

In the late afternoon the group assembled for cocktails. Without consorting about it they'd all dressed up, and the women's perfumes fought for supremacy in the living room. The sun set, candles were lit; Mme Reynard found an English dictionary among the cookbooks and proposed they play the game called Dictionary, whereby a player assigns an incorrect definition to an unknown word in hopes of fooling the other players. She claimed the secateur was the sabateur's assistant. Malcom that costalgia was a shared reminiscence, Susan that a remotion was a lateral promotion, Frances that polonaise was an outmoded British condiment fabricated from a horse's bone marrow, Madeline that a puncheon was a contentious luncheon, and Joan that a syrt was a Syrian breath mint. Julius, whose English was not fully matured, said that unbearing was the act of "removing a bear from a peopled premises.

The United States in the twenty-first century is not very much like nineteenth-century Prussia (Prussia today isn’t much like Prussia then, either), but we still use its educational methods. We would never think of using its transportation methods (horsepower was literally horsepower), its communication methods (telegraphs), or its military technology (muzzle-loaders and bayonets). But government-run systems have a way of preserving themselves well past any rational point, which is why the United States still maintains the helium reserve it established for dirigible warfare—presumably to fight those nineteenth-century Prussians.

the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development estimates that American families pay 26 percent more for milk than they would pay if they paid real prices, i.e. the prices set by a free market. Whoever’s interest is being looked after, it isn’t the interest of the guy on a tight budget staring down a dry bowl of Count Chocula.

I’d discovered, after a lot of extreme apprehension about what spoons to use, that if you do something incorrect at table with a certain arrogance, as if you knew perfectly well you were doing it properly, you can get away with it and nobody will think you are bad-mannered or poorly brought up. They will think you are original and very witty

The cheapest orbit available is LEO (Low Earth Orbit). People often think that "orbit" means there's no gravity. This is incorrect. In fact, the International Space Station (which is in LEO right now) is usually around 250 miles high and experiences about 90% of the gravity you experience on Earth. So why do the astronauts float around like there's no gravity? Although they are pulled toward the Earth all the time, they always "miss" it. Think of it like this: Imagine you fire a cannonball from the top of a tower. If you fire it softly, the ball will go a little ways then fall to the ground. If you fire it incredibly fast, it will just fly off into space. But between falling right down and going off into space, there are a lot of intermediate regimes. For a given height, there is some speed that is slow enough that it can't leave Earth, but fast enough that you'll never plop to the ground. If you were ridong that cannonball, you'd be falling, because gravity is tugging you down. At the same time, because you're going so fast, you'd be able to see Earth's curve. As you move from a point on the globe in a straight line, Earth curves down and away from you, increasing your distance from the surface. At this particular speed, you have two balanced effects: Gravity wants you down low, but your speed keeps you up high. So you just keep going around and around. You "orbit.

Shannon’s nipples were sore from being sucked on, but the look of fascination and enjoyment on her husband’s handsome face more than made up for any discomfort. He reminded her of a kid at Christmas who’d gotten the toy he most wanted from Santa’s bag. He’d been sucking her nipples off and on—mostly on—for at least four hours. He’d been fucking her just as long, staying inside her even during his brief moments of rest.

Over the years I’ve received countless messages from people unsure if they’re ‘really trans’ because of X, Y or Z. Some people think that they’ve found out too late in life, and therefore if they were really trans they’d have known earlier. Others think that because they didn’t have any ‘signs’ or feelings in childhood, then surely they can’t actually be trans. Both are incorrect. This is your life, your identity and your journey. You’ll probably get bored of me saying this: no single identity journey is the same.

Trump's insults made him the only non-sexist, non-racist, non-discriminator in the country. He'd attack a woman for her looks exactly as he would a man. He ridiculed his rivals and members of the press absolutely without regard to race, ethnicity, or physical handicap. It was as it Trump had attained some sort of Platonic ideal of non-discrimination. One got the sense that he would appoint a lesbian Hindu to be Secretary of the Army if she was the best person for the job, But he also wouldn't care if he ended up with a cabinet of all white men if they were the best people for the job.

So should patients born under Libra and Gemini be deprived of treatment? You would say no, of course, and that would make you wiser than many in the medical profession: the CCSG trial found that aspirin was effective at preventing stroke and death in men, but not in women;30 as a result, women were undertreated for a decade, until further trials and overviews showed a benefit. That is just one of many subgroup analyses that have misled us in medicine, often incorrectly identifying subgroups of people who wouldn’t benefit from a treatment that was usually effective. So, for example, we thought the hormone-blocking drug tamoxifen was no good for treating breast cancer in women if they were younger than fifty (we were wrong). We thought clotbusting drugs were ineffective, or even harmful, when treating heart attacks in people who’d already had a heart attack (we were wrong). We thought drugs called ‘ACE inhibitors’ stopped reducing the death rate in heart failure patients if they were also on aspirin (we were wrong). Unusually, none of these findings was driven by financial avarice: they were driven by ambition, perhaps; excitement at new findings, certainly; ignorance of the risks of subgroup analysis; and, of course, chance.

Sisyphus cheated death,” Nico explained. “First he chained up Thanatos, the reaper of souls, so no one could die. Then when Thanatos got free and was about to kill him, Sisyphus told his wife to do incorrect funeral rites so he wouldn’t rest in peace. Sisy here—May I call you Sisy?” “No!” “Sisy tricked Persephone into letting him go back to the world to haunt his wife. And he didn’t come back.” The old man cackled. “I stayed alive another thirty years before they finally tracked me down!” Thalia was halfway up the hill now. She gritted her teeth, pushing the boulder with her back. Her expression said Hurry up! “So that was your punishment,” I said to Sisyphus. “Rolling a boulder up a hill forever. Was it worth it?” “A temporary setback!” Sisyphus cried. “I’ll bust out of here soon, and when I do, they’ll all be sorry!” “How would you get out of the Underworld?” Nico asked. “It’s locked down, you know.” Sisyphus grinned wickedly. “That’s what the other one asked.” My stomach tightened. “Someone else asked your advice?” “An angry young man,” Sisyphus recalled. “Not very polite. Held a sword to my throat. Didn’t offer to roll my boulder at all.” “What did you tell him?” Nico said. “Who was he?” Sisyphus massaged his shoulders. He glanced up at Thalia, who was almost to the top of the hill. Her face was bright red and drenched in sweat. “Oh . . . it’s hard to say,” Sisyphus said. “Never seen him before. He carried a long package all wrapped up in black cloth. Skis, maybe? A shovel? Maybe if you wait here, I could go look for him. . . .” “What did you tell him?” I demanded. “Can’t remember.” Nico drew his sword. The Stygian iron was so cold it steamed in the hot dry air of Punishment. “Try harder.” The old man winced. “What kind of person carries a sword like that?” “A son of Hades,” Nico said. “Now answer me!” The color drained from Sisyphus’s face. “I told him to talk to Melinoe! She always has a way out!” Nico lowered his sword. I could tell the name Melinoe bothered him. “Are you crazy?” he said. “That’s suicide!” The old man shrugged. “I’ve cheated death before. I could do it again.” “What did this demigod look like?” “Um . . . he had a nose,” Sisyphus said. “A mouth. And one eye and—” “One eye?” I interrupted. “Did he have an eye patch?” “Oh . . . maybe,” Sisyphus said. “He had hair on his head. And—” He gasped and looked over my shoulder. “There he is!” We fell for it. As soon as we turned, Sisyphus took off down the hill. “I’m free! I’m free! I’m—ACK!” Ten feet from the hill, he hit the end of his invisible leash and fell on his back. Nico and I grabbed his arms and hauled him up the hill. “Curse you!” He let loose with bad words in Ancient Greek, Latin, English, French, and several other languages I didn’t recognize. “I’ll never help you! Go to Hades!” “Already there,” Nico muttered. “Incoming!” Thalia shouted. I looked up and might have used a few cuss words myself. The boulder was bouncing straight toward us. Nico jumped one way. I jumped the other. Sisyphus yelled, “NOOOOOOO!” as the thing plowed into him. Somehow he braced himself and stopped it before it could run him over. I guess he’d had a lot of practice. “Take it again!” he wailed. “Please. I can’t hold it.” “Not again,” Thalia gasped. “You’re on your own.” He treated us to a lot more colorful language. It was clear he wasn’t going to help us any further, so we left him to his punishment.

Myth #3: Fasting Causes Low Blood Sugar Sometimes people worry that blood sugar will fall very low during fasting and they will become shaky and sweaty. Luckily, this does not actually happen. Blood sugar level is tightly monitored by the body, and there are multiple mechanisms to keep it in the proper range. During fasting, our body begins by breaking down glycogen (remember, that’s the glucose in short-term storage) in the liver to provide glucose. This happens every night as you sleep to keep blood sugars normal as you fast overnight. FASTING ALL-STARS AMY BERGER People who engage in fasting for religious or spiritual purposes often report feelings of extreme clear-headedness and physical and emotional well-being. Some even feel a sense of euphoria. They usually attribute this to achieving some kind of spiritual enlightenment, but the truth is much more down-to-earth and scientific than that: it’s the ketones! Ketones are a “superfood” for the brain. When the body and brain are fueled primarily by fatty acids and ketones, respectively, the “brain fog,” mood swings, and emotional instability that are caused by wild fluctuations in blood sugar become a thing of the past and clear thinking is the new normal. If you fast for longer than twenty-four to thirty-six hours, glycogen stores become depleted. The liver now can manufacture new glucose in a process called gluconeogenesis, using the glycerol that’s a by-product of the breakdown of fat. This means that we do not need to eat glucose for our blood glucose levels to remain normal. A related myth is that brain cells can only use glucose for energy. This is incorrect. Human brains, unique amongst animals, can also use ketone bodies—particles that are produced when fat is metabolized—as a fuel source. This allows us to function optimally even when food is not readily available. Ketones provide the majority of the energy we need. Consider the consequences if glucose were absolutely necessary for brain function. After twenty-four hours without food, glucose stored in our bodies in the form of glycogen is depleted. At that point, we’d become blubbering idiots as our brains shut down. In the Paleolithic era, our intellect was our only advantage against wild animals with their sharp claws, sharp fangs, and bulging muscles. Without it, humans would have become extinct long ago. When glucose is not available, the body begins to burn fat and produce ketone bodies, which are able to cross the blood-brain barrier to feed the brain cells. Up to 75 percent of the brain’s energy requirements can be met by ketones. Of course, that means that glucose still provides 25 percent of the brain’s energy requirements. So does this mean that we have to eat for our brains to function?

Idealistic socialists in the West usually will tell you that 'socialism' is anything other than what actual socialist governments have achieved in the real world. What is important to keep in mind is that socialism is not a particular set of political conditions, but a specific kind of economic arrangement. Socialism is not identical with left-wing politics, and socialism is not confined to the Left. The various kinds of political systems that have arisen from socialist economies, from Soviet authoritarianism to India’s 'license raj,' are in no small part responses to the inadequacies and contradictions inherent in socialist systems of production and distribution—systems that seek to ignore or to subvert the laws of economics.

WHY DID YOU TELL PEOPLE MY ESSAY WASN’T TRUE?” “I don’t know,” he said, breaking out in a sweat. “Because I don’t believe it. I don’t believe anyone could be so well adjusted.” She typed. “WHY NOT?” “You said you look at your friends’ lives and feel like your own is better, which is fine, except that you don’t have any friends.” “HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?” “I sit behind you. I notice things.” “WHAT KIND OF THINGS?” “It’s not your fault that you don’t have any friends. You always have an aide with you. No one is going to be themselves when there’s a teacher standing right there. Plus, you talked about parties and dances, but I don’t think you’ve even been to any, so how would you know what you’re not sorry to be missing?” He kept going. He started saying too much, telling her all the things he’d noticed—that she never said hi to other kids, that she never answered questions when people asked her things before class. “I’m not pretending I’m Mr. Popularity or anything. I’m just saying you’ve got this whole message that doesn’t seem believable. To me, anyway.” “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE SAYING THIS.” Her facial expressions were impossible to read. He couldn’t tell how mad she was. Probably pretty mad. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s none of my business. Like, none at all. I don’t know why I just said all that. I had this theory that you’re trying to be a certain kind of person, and that must be hard. But God, I’m hardly one to talk. So let’s forget the whole thing. Please. I’m sorry.” It startled him when her machine blurted out a single word. “NO!” “No what?” “DON’T BE SORRY. YOU’RE RIGHT. MY GOSH, I CAN’T BELIEVE HOW RIGHT YOU ARE.

Friendship: the word has come to mean many different things among the various races and cultures of both the Underdark and the surface of the Realms. In Menzoberranzan, friendship is generally born out of mutual profit. While both parties are better off for the union, it remains secure. But loyalty is not a tenet of drow life, and as soon as a friend believes that he will gain more without the other, the union - and likely the other's life - will come to a swift end. I have had few friends in my life, and if I live a thousand years, I suspect that this will remain true. There is little to lament in this fact, though, for those who have called me friend have been persons of great character and have enriched my existence, given it worth. First there was Zaknafein, my father and mentor who showed me that I was not alone and that I was not incorrect in holding to my beliefs. Zaknafein saved me, from both the blade and the chaotic, evil, fanatic religion that damns my people. Yet I was no less lost when a handless deep gnome came into my life, a svirfneblin that I had rescued from certain death, many years before, at my brother Dinin's merciless blade. My deed was repaid in full, for when the svirfneblin and I again met, this time in the clutches of his people, I would have been killed - truly would have preferred death - were it not for Belwar Dissengulp. My time in Blingdenstone, the city of the deep gnomes, was such a short span in the measure of my years. I remember well Belwar's city and his people, and I always shall. Theirs was the first society I came to know that was based on the strengths of community, not the paranoia of selfish individualism. Together the deep gnomes survive against the perils of the hostile Underdark, labor in their endless toils of mining the stone, and play games that are hardly distinguishable from every other aspect of their rich lives. Greater indeed are pleasures that are shared. - Drizzt Do'Urden

Did you bring money with you, or shall we play for markers?" She flipped the stack of cards to the table with a professional twist of her wrist. "I don't play for less than a guinea a hand." His lips twitched. "The question is not if I have money. The question is, do you?" "I don't need funds, as I don't plan on losing," she said, her gaze mocking. For a moment, he thought he'd heard her incorrectly. Slowly, he said, "I beg your pardon, but are you saying you could beat me at a game of chance?" A dismissive smile rested on her lips. "Please, Dougal, let's speak frankly," she drawled softly. "Naturally, I expect to win; I was taught by a master." Dougal was entranced. He'd been challenged to many things before, but no one had so blatantly dismissed his chances of winning. "A giunea a hand?" "At least." "I didn't realize I'd need a note from my banker, or I'd have brought one with me." Her eyes sparkled with pure mischief, which inflamed him more. "If you've no money with you, then perhaps there are other things we can play for." The words hung in the room, as thick as the smoke that seeped from the fireplace. Like a blinding bolt of light from a storm-black sky, everything fell into place. This was why she and her minions had worked so hard to convince him that the house was worthless. If he thought it of low value, he'd be eager to wager the deed. Of all the devious plots! Yet Dougal found himself fighting a grin. He'd been feted and petted, fawned upon and sought out, but until now, no one had gone to such lengths to fleece him. Dugal couldn't look away from Sophia. He knew his own worth; women had paid attention to him for so long that he took it for granted. He'd dallied and toyed, taken and enjoyed. But never, in all of his years, had he so desired any woman as he did this one. The irony of it was that she desired him,too-but only for the contents of his pocket. Dougal didn't know whether to laugh or fume. He should be insulted, but instead he found himself watching her with new appreciation.

Do you ever feel that same need? Your life is so very different from my own. The grandness of the world, the real world, the whole world, is a known thing for you. And you have no need of dispatches because you have seen so much of the American galaxy and its inhabitants—their homes, their hobbies—up close. I don’t know what it means to grow up with a black president, social networks, omnipresent media, and black women everywhere in their natural hair. What I know is that when they loosed the killer of Michael Brown, you said, “I’ve got to go.” And that cut me because, for all our differing worlds, at your age my feeling was exactly the same. And I recall that even then I had not yet begun to imagine the perils that tangle us. You still believe the injustice was Michael Brown. You have not yet grappled with your own myths and narratives and discovered the plunder everywhere around us. Before I could discover, before I could escape, I had to survive, and this could only mean a clash with the streets, by which I mean not just physical blocks, nor simply the people packed into them, but the array of lethal puzzles and strange perils that seem to rise up from the asphalt itself. The streets transform every ordinary day into a series of trick questions, and every incorrect answer risks a beat-down, a shooting, or a pregnancy. No one survives unscathed. And yet the heat that springs from the constant danger, from a lifestyle of near-death experience, is thrilling. This is what the rappers mean when they pronounce themselves addicted to “the streets” or in love with “the game.” I imagine they feel something akin to parachutists, rock climbers, BASE jumpers, and others who choose to live on the edge. Of course we chose nothing. And I have never believed the brothers who claim to “run,” much less “own,” the city. We did not design the streets. We do not fund them. We do not preserve them. But I was there, nevertheless, charged like all the others with the protection of my body. The crews, the young men who’d transmuted their fear into rage, were the greatest danger. The crews walked the blocks of their neighborhood, loud and rude, because it was only through their loud rudeness that they might feel any sense of security and power. They would break your jaw, stomp your face, and shoot you down to feel that power, to revel in the might of their own bodies.

To grasp incorrectly the basic problem of “man and woman,” to deny the most profound antagonism here and the necessity for an eternally hostile tension, perhaps in this matter to dream about equal rights, equal education, equal entitlements and duties — that’s a typical sign of a superficial mind. And a thinker who has shown that he’s shallow in this dangerous place — shallow in his instincts! — may in general be considered suspicious or, even worse, betrayed and exposed. Presumably he’ll be too “short” for all the basic questions of life and of life in the future, and he’ll be incapable of any profundity. By contrast, a man who does have profundity in his spirit and in his desires as well, together with that profundity of good will capable of severity and hardness and easily confused with them, can think about woman only in an oriental way: he has to grasp woman as a possession, as a property which he can lock up, as something predetermined for service and reaching her perfection in that service. In this matter he must take a stand on the immense reasoning of Asia, on the instinctual superiority of Asia: just as the Greeks did in earlier times, the best heirs and students of Asia, who, as is well known, from Homer to the time of Pericles, as they advanced in culture and in the extent of their power, also became step by step stricter with women, in short, more oriental. How necessary, how logical, even how humanly desirable this was: that’s something we’d do well to think about for ourselves!

As I saw it, there was a 75 percent chance the Fed’s efforts would fall short and the economy would move into failure; a 20 percent chance it would initially succeed at stimulating the economy but still ultimately fail; and a 5 percent chance it would provide enough stimulus to save the economy but trigger hyperinflation. To hedge against the worst possibilities, I bought gold and T-bill futures as a spread against eurodollars, which was a limited-risk way of betting on credit problems increasing. I was dead wrong. After a delay, the economy responded to the Fed’s efforts, rebounding in a noninflationary way. In other words, inflation fell while growth accelerated. The stock market began a big bull run, and over the next eighteen years the U.S. economy enjoyed the greatest noninflationary growth period in its history. How was that possible? Eventually, I figured it out. As money poured out of these borrower countries and into the U.S., it changed everything. It drove the dollar up, which produced deflationary pressures in the U.S., which allowed the Fed to ease interest rates without raising inflation. This fueled a boom. The banks were protected both because the Federal Reserve loaned them cash and the creditors’ committees and international financial restructuring organizations such as the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the Bank for International Settlements arranged things so that the debtor nations could pay their debt service from new loans. That way everyone could pretend everything was fine and write down those loans over many years. My experience over this period was like a series of blows to the head with a baseball bat. Being so wrong—and especially so publicly wrong—was incredibly humbling and cost me just about everything I had built at Bridgewater. I saw that I had been an arrogant jerk who was totally confident in a totally incorrect view. So there I was after eight years in business, with nothing to show for it. Though I’d been right much more than I’d been wrong, I was all the way back to square one.

I had the most powerful magic, and the need to use it.  Lifting my right hand, I summoned forth my Mana, converted it into magic, and spoke my own word of power.  Much to her surprise, I could still cast with my right hand, despite its missing digits.   “You aren’t really going to do this, are you?” Shart asked.  He was making his way over to me with only the barest hint of floundering. “Hoopie!” The spell pierced her barrier, turning the now useless boundary a bright blue.  Her expression was a mix of terror and amazement as the spell bypassed her defenses and impacted her.  Her ass exploded in an echoing cacophony of flatulence. It was literally the loudest fart I’d ever heard.  As someone whose mother-in-law used to regularly drive people from the room with her anal symphonies, I considered myself an expert.  I highly suspected Bashara was the kind of lady who didn’t fart in public; she must have been saving that one up all day.  She blinked several times, as she checked her status log.  It was time to execute the second part of my plan. Grabbing Shart, amidst his squawking protests, I yelled my battlecry. “Poke-Shart, Go!” Then, I flung the invisible demon straight at her head. Shart only weighed thirty pounds or so; I was more than strong enough to fling him at a pretty good clip.  His cry of “you bastard” slowly faded the further he flew.     I had hoped that being hit in the face would knock her off balance.  That would have given me a moment to pick up my sword and close.  Actually, I hoped it was possible to hit her at all; despite Shart’s ability to fly, he wasn’t very aerodynamic.  I couldn’t win a spell duel, considering I had only one good hand and didn’t know any good spells.  I was going to have to engage her in combat.  I sincerely hoped that my invisible familiar would give me an advantage. I hadn’t calculated on hitting the top of her head with Shart’s Belly Button of Holding.  Her head disappeared, completely buried down to the top of her shoulders.  Her body, however, still worked.  She was careening around, her hands furiously pushing on the demon.  The remaining bandit, coincidentally, looked at Bashara just as her head vanished.  Incorrectly assuming that I had some sort of head vanishing spell, he tried to break and run.   You can’t run away from a homicidal badger.   I managed to get within arms’ reach of Bashara, just as she had successfully begun pushing Shart off her head. She had freed her mouth and was screaming.  As she continued pushing, her nose popped free.  I felt only slightly bad when I grabbed the demon and pushed him all the way down.  In seconds, only her feet were exposed.  Then, I pushed those in as well.

What’s your rank of choice?” Juliet started, nearly spilling her cup of lemonade. “Pardon?” Drake gestured to all the other men in the room. “Every rank from a duke down to a second son who became a vicar is available for your choosing. Any rank strike your fancy?” “I believe you’re incorrect,” she said, looking over all the men in the room. “I see one second son-vicar, one baron―” she turned to him―“one viscount, two earls, and one duke. But alas, no marquis.” His brown eyes lit with mischief. “I’d say that I stand corrected, but I do not. There is a marquis on the premises. If you’d like to dance with him, I’ll see if a servant can fetch him from the nursery.

... we cannot simply presume that we know instinctively why people do what they do no matter how emotionally satisfying that may be, because humans are often generally unaware of the reasons for their thoughts and actions in the first place. […] In most cases, our thoughts and actions simply make sense at the time.

So after I got Jamie’s address, I wrote to her every day. Every night after I put the kids to bed, I would write. I would tell her about everything that had happened--what I did, what the kids did, something funny one of them said. I just wrote as much as I could for several pages. Every night I wrote her novels and every morning I mailed them to her. That was all well and good until I found out I’d addressed all of the envelopes incorrectly! I’d left out one digit of the zip code on every single letter I’d written. I was devastated. Even though I had put a return address on them, I was sure they were stuck in post office limbo. I had this realization the same day I got my first letter from Jamie. I ripped it open and read it through gripped fingers. She told me all about her first few days in basic training, and at the bottom she added the most heartbreaking line, “I wish you’d write me. I know you’re busy and I know you don’t like to write, but I wish you would.” I couldn’t believe it. She thought I hadn’t written at all. I called a buddy of mine who is now Command Sergeant Major Phil Blaisdell, a battalion sergeant major at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. “Phil, I’m in trouble. Man, I’ve been sending her letters and I was putting the wrong zip code on them and I got a letter from her and she thinks I’m not sending her letters and I know she needs that.” “All right, let me call you back.” A little while later my phone rang. “I’m Command Sergeant Major Duncan. I am the battalion sergeant major of Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. First of all, I’d like to tell you that I know who you are and I appreciate your service and what you’ve done. I’ve seen your Men’s Health issue and you are an inspiration. I understand you know a Specialist Boyd,” she said. “Yes, Sergeant Major, I do.” “Well, I’ve got her standing in front of me right now. Would you like to talk to her?” “Yes, Sergeant Major, I would.” So she handed the phone to Jamie. Jamie was a little stressed out because she had been called to the sergeant major’s office and thought, What have I done? The conversation was rushed and she was speaking in a hushed tone. “Hey, I miss you, I love you.” “Hey, me, too, baby. Let me tell you real quick, I’ve been sending you letters--” “I got them all today. Thank you.” “I miss you, and I hope that you can tell.” “Look, I want to keep talking but they’re watching me.” “Okay, we’re good. Just wanted to make sure you got the letters. I love you and we’ll talk later.

I just wrote as much as I could for several pages. Every night I wrote her novels and every morning I mailed them to her. That was all well and good until I found out I’d addressed all of the envelopes incorrectly! I’d left out one digit of the zip code on every single letter I’d written. I was devastated. Even though I had put a return address on them, I was sure they were stuck in post office limbo. I had this realization the same day I got my first letter from Jamie. I ripped it open and read it through gripped fingers. She told me all about her first few days in basic training, and at the bottom she added the most heartbreaking line, “I wish you’d write me. I know you’re busy and I know you don’t like to write, but I wish you would.” I couldn’t believe it. She thought I hadn’t written at all. I called a buddy of mine who is now Command Sergeant Major Phil Blaisdell, a battalion sergeant major at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. “Phil, I’m in trouble. Man, I’ve been sending her letters and I was putting the wrong zip code on them and I got a letter from her and she thinks I’m not sending her letters and I know she needs that.” “All right, let me call you back.” A little while later my phone rang. “I’m Command Sergeant Major Duncan. I am the battalion sergeant major of Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. First of all, I’d like to tell you that I know who you are and I appreciate your service and what you’ve done. I’ve seen your Men’s Health issue and you are an inspiration. I understand you know a Specialist Boyd,” she said. “Yes, Sergeant Major, I do.” “Well, I’ve got her standing in front of me right now. Would you like to talk to her?” “Yes, Sergeant Major, I would.” So she handed the phone to Jamie. Jamie was a little stressed out because she had been called to the sergeant major’s office and thought, What have I done? The conversation was rushed and she was speaking in a hushed tone. “Hey, I miss you, I love you.” “Hey, me too, baby. Let me tell you real quick, I’ve been sending you letters—” “I got them all today. Thank you.” “I miss you, and I hope that you can tell.” “Look, I want to keep talking but they’re watching me.” “Okay, we’re good. Just wanted to make sure you got the letters. I love you and we’ll talk later.

I must never equate the degree of pain as evidencing the incorrectness of a decision, for if I do I will default on some of the most critical decisions I should have ever made.

He must have heard her incorrectly. Because there was no possible way that she could be that brash, that foolish and insane and idealistic and brave. “Have you lost your senses completely?” His words rose into a shout, a riot of rage and fear that rushed through him so fast he could hardly think. “He’ll kill you! He will kill you if he finds out.” She took a step toward him, that spectacular dress glinting like a thousand stars. “He won’t find out.” “It’s only a matter of time,” he gritted out. “He has spies who are watching everything.” “And you’d rather I kill innocent men?” “Those men are traitors to the crown!” “Traitors!” She barked a laugh. “Traitors. For refusing to grovel before a conqueror? For sheltering escaped slaves trying to get home? For daring to believe in a world that’s better than this gods-forsaken place?” She shook her head, some of her hair escaping. “I will not be his butcher.

The host read the question off a card as it appeared on a studio monitor. “John’s father has five sons: Alan, Blan, Clan, and Dlan. What did he call his fifth son?” The pinochle champ was the first to buzz in. “Mr. Fontaine?” said the host. “Elan,” he said confidently. “The five names obviously follow a logical alphabetical progression, A, B, C, D. So E-lan would be next.” The college professor made a face. She would have given the same answer. “I’m sorry,” said the host. “That is incorrect.” Jake buzzed in. “Mr. McQuade?” “Um, the fifth son’s name was John. Because in your question you said, ‘John’s father had five sons.’ So one of the sons has to be, you know, named John.” “That is correct!

Eight States limit private insurance plan coverage of abortion. Seventeen require medically incorrect counseling before abortion, including disinformation about breast cancer, fetal pain, and mental woes. Contrary to the recommendation of the American Academy of Pediatrics,27 39 States require parental involvement.

Miss Edith Clay brightened the room with her presence. Just from walking through the door, she’d made the room a happier place. This was true despite his having spent the last several months assuring himself his recollection of her had to be incorrect. His recollection was not incorrect. It was appallingly accurate.

Question 3: “Do I look fat?” The correct answer is an emphatic “Absolutely not! You look perfect!” Among the incorrect answers are: • a. “Compared to what?” • b. “I wouldn’t call you fat, but you’re not exactly thin.” • c. “A little extra weight looks good on you.” • d. “I’ve seen fatter.” • e. “No. I inadvertently put a twenty-pound weight on the scale when you were on it.” • f. “Could you repeat the question? I was just thinking about how I would spend the insurance money if you died.

There was an incident with some boys in the woods, and suddenly, I was stuffing my face with Twinkies or ordering a pizza late at night, trying to fill this ragged, ugly thing inside me that couldn't be filled or quieted. I ignored my parents and their worry entirely. All I wanted to do was eat. My body grew, became more significant, more noticeable and more invisible at the same time. Most important, though, the bigger I made my body, the safer I felt. Bad things, I'd decided years earlier, could not happen to big bodies. I was not necessarily incorrect in my thinking. Eating was, in part, a survival instinct.

That's the difference between an error and an anomaly - an error is incorrect behavior, while an anomaly is unexpected behavior. If you were smarter, you'd expect the anomalies to occur.

A politically incorrect point must be noted here. Of the countries where women are held back and subjected to systematic abuses such as honor killings and genital cutting, a very large proportion are predominately Muslim. Most Muslims worldwide don't believe in such practices...but the fact remains that the countries where girls are cut, killer for honor, or kept out of school or the workplace typically have large Muslim populations.

The biggest downfall of the cave divers in the 60s and early 70s was deep diving,” said Wes Skiles. “We’d figured out all the other things about the dangers of incorrectly using lines and lights, the air rules, and we now had pressure gauges. We had no excuse. When I came into the sport in 1973, there was really no reason not to operate safely. But deep diving they hadn’t figured out. A number of trained cave divers—all in a short period of time—lost their lives in caves.

It’s never going to happen,” she told him, and in that moment, that was the honest truth. And he knew it. “Well, then I guess there’s no point.” He looked so serious, she laughed again. “To what?” “To us, I guess. To being together.” Two big fat teardrops fell onto his cheeks. What had she done? “Al, no,” she said, taking his hand in hers, which he accepted, without conviction. “Can I just take back everything I just said?” “Only if you truly didn’t mean any of it.” He wiped his eyes with his thumbs. “And I know you did mean all of it.” “But I don’t want to break up with you. We can figure this out.” “What’s there to figure out?” He shook his head and took his hand back. “Why can’t you just be a normal woman who wants to be a mom and have kids?” “That’s not normal for me, Al. And why can’t you be normal? Why do you have to be the one guy in the world who wants to be a dad at nineteen?” “My dad was nineteen when he had me and he was the best dad ever.” He took a deep breath, wiped his cheeks, and stood up. “I gotta go.” This was all happening too fast. Bobby Eaton hadn’t even come back yet to get their order. “What? Hey. Let’s talk about this.” “But there’s nothing to talk about.” He looked her in the face with his big teary eyes, and it ruined her. She watched Al leave the room, and knew then what she’d lost. The version of her he once saw, the one that was so incorrect and so beautiful and so loved, was gone.

Now she knew she had read the black mirror incorrectly. Perhaps she’d been won over because although she’d been a servant, John seemed to have seen her as something more. Or so she’d wished. She had fallen under water, under a spell, in love with love. She had seen it happen a hundred times before, as she sat in the dark listening to Hannah’s advice to the women who came to her door. Is it the man you want, or the feeling inside you when someone cares?

Imagine that you get a car as a birthday present, with the key in the ignition, but you have never heard of cars before and have absolutely no information about how they work. Being an inquisitive person, you get inside and start messing with the various buttons, knobs and levers. Eventually, you figure out how to use it and get quite good at driving. But unbeknownst to you, somebody has removed the letter R by the gearshift and messed with the transmission so that you need to apply a crazy amount of force to shift into Reverse. This means that unless someone tells you, you’ll probably never figure out that the car can drive backwards as well. If asked to describe how the car worked, you’d incorrectly assert that, without exception, as long as the engine is running, the harder you push on the accelerator pedal, the faster the car moves forward. If in a parallel universe, the car had instead required huge force to shift into forward drive mode, you’d have concluded that this strange machine worked differently and only moved backwards. Our Universe is very much like this car. As illustrated in Figure 6.6, it has a bunch of “knobs” that control how it works: the laws according to which things move when you do various things to them and so forth—what we’re told in school are the laws of physics, including so-called constants of nature. Each setting of the knobs corresponds to one of the phases of space, so if there are 500 knobs with 10 possible settings each, there are 10500 different phases. When I was in high school, I was incorrectly taught that these laws and constants were always valid, and never changed either from place to place or from time to time. Why this mistake? Because an enormous amount of energy—much more than we have at our disposal—is required to change the settings of these knobs, just as the gearshift on that car, so we didn’t realize that the settings could be changed. Nor that there even were any settings to change: unlike gearshifts, nature’s knobs are well hidden. They come in the form of so-called high-mass fields and other obscure entities, and huge energy is required not only to alter them, but even to detect that they exist in the first place.

In our world today ‘user-error’ seems to turn into ‘user-habit’ with the user in the habit of denying both.

Hard work on the wrong task is the fool’s errand on overdrive.

To let myself be defined by my greatest mistakes is my greatest mistake.

In the group of disorders referred to as tendonitis, the tendon is correctly identified as the offending part, but the reason given for the pain is incorrect. The anatomy is right, but the diagnosis is wrong. It is generally assumed that the painful tendon is inflamed because of overuse. So the treatment is to immobilize and rest the part and/or inject the tendon with a steroid (cortisone). Relief is often only temporary. Many years ago, the suspicion dawned on me that tendonitis (more properly called tendonalgia) might be part of TMS when a patient reported that not only had his back pain resolved with treatment but also his elbow had ceased to hurt. I put this to the test and, indeed, found that I could get resolution of most tendonalgias. I now consider tendon/ ligament to be the third type of tissue involved in TMS. Common sites of tendonalgia are the shoulder, elbow, wrist, hip, knee, ankle, and foot. (page 138)

To those who would argue, correctly, that the teachings of the East offer deeper, richer levels of subtlety and sophistication than the more youthful and boisterous Americans, I’d reply that waking up is a youthful, boisterous business and that those who seek ever deeper layers of understanding are merely fulfilling ego’s agenda of stagnation and self-preservation.

If you think about the qualities you’d like to possess, the ideal qualities—unconditional love, loyalty, devotion, unwavering friendship, forgiveness, selflessness, sincerity, being fully present in the moment, happiness—qualities we uphold as the loftiest ideals to which we might aspire, they look very much like, you know, a good dog; dog consciousness. Of course,” I add, “by those same ideal standards, humans are far and away the least evolved beings on the planet.

The last thing of a spiritual nature I recall reading was a magazine interview with an old Indian guy who said that if I recited a certain mantra for six months I’d get rich, if I stood on hot rocks for six months I‘d conquer my sexual desires, and if I lived on air alone for six months I’d get enlightened. I wondered if all three could be done simultaneously so I could be a rich enlightened eunuch in time for the holidays, but the article didn’t address that.

Don’t pretend to be right, because if you are right there’s no need to pretend.

At this point, you could be tempted to water down your content—“You know it’s really not that big a deal.” Don’t give into the temptation. Don’t take back what you’ve said. Instead, put your remarks in context. For instance, at this point your assistant may believe you are completely dissatisfied with his performance. He believes that your view of the issue at hand represents the totality of your respect for him. If this belief is incorrect, use Contrasting to clarify what you don’t and do believe. Start with what you don’t believe. “Let me put this in perspective. I don’t want you to think I’m not satisfied with the quality of your work. I want us to continue working together. I really do think you’re doing a good job. This punctuality issue is important to me, and I’d just like you to work on that. If you will be more attentive to that, there are no other issues.

herding, subjects the scientific community to an inherent risk of converging on an incorrect answer and raises the possibility that, under certain conditions, science may not be self-correcting.

Before Satan tries to get you to sin, he tries to get you to think incorrectly, to believe incorrectly, and to perceive the world and others incorrectly.  He encourages you to reject what Our Lord has taught, to believe in a vision of morality contrary to what is true, and to distrust others – leading you to “go your own way” and invent your own truth, your own morality, your own reality.  Why?  This is because that is what Satan himself did!

It is in a person’s nature to inherently disagree with someone who claims you are incorrect, no? Otherwise, you’d be admitting ignorance over a matter you are impassioned about. And as much as we strive to be modest and openminded, we cannot simply mold ourselves to what others claim with certainty, as we’d then be no more than a piece of paper for them to draw on.

which is that “the mental perception of some fact excites the mental affection called the emotion, and that this latter state of mind gives rise to the bodily expression.” James says it is the other way around: “My thesis on the contrary is that the bodily changes follow directly the PERCEPTION of the exciting fact, and that our feeling of the same changes as they occur IS the emotion.” We are accustomed, he says, to think that “we lose our fortune, are sorry and weep; we meet a bear, are frightened and run; we are insulted by a rival, are angry and strike. The hypothesis here to be defended says that this order of sequence is incorrect . . . We feel sorry because we cry, angry because we strike, afraid because we tremble, and not that we cry, strike or tremble because we are sorry, angry or fearful.

When you are experiencing a blue mood, the chances are that you are telling yourself you are inherently inadequate or just plain “no good.” You will become convinced that you have a bad core or are essentially worthless. To the extent that you believe such thoughts, you will experience a severe emotional reaction of despair and self-hatred. You may even feel that you’d be better off dead because you are so unbearably uncomfortable and self-denigrating. You may become inactive and paralyzed, afraid and unwilling to participate in the normal flow of life. Because of the negative emotional and behavioral consequences of your harsh thinking, the first step is to stop telling yourself you are worthless. However, you probably won’t be able to do this until you become absolutely convinced that these statements are incorrect and unrealistic. How can this be accomplished? You must first consider that a human life is an ongoing process that involves a constantly changing physical body as well as an enormous number of rapidly changing thoughts, feelings, and behaviors. Your life therefore is an evolving experience, a continual flow. You are not a thing; that’s why any label is constricting, highly inaccurate, and global.

At times I might hate the behavior, but don’t confuse that with my feelings regarding the person. For it is all too easy to attempt to lend weight to your stance by errantly declaring that my hatred of one is hatred of both, when actually my hatred of one is born out of my love for the other.

Incidentally, while I was trying to teach everyone my new spell, I realized that I’d misspoken the first time I’d cast it, permanently registering it with the incorrect phrasing. Here in Yurgenschmidt, “copy and paste” would forever be known as “copy and place.” Gaaah! What a blunder! I know what it’s actually called! COPY AND PASTE! COPY AND PAAASTE!

Having twice been sued by people for offering incorrect market advice, he refrained from offering stock tips.

If you start to spiral into doom and gloom and incorrect ideas about your ability to achieve your goals, you sever the link with the creative force that will make your dreams come true. You have to stay positive and one of the surest ways of doing so is to praise as much in your current life as you can.

La dédiabolisation du Front avait sans doute à ce point fonctionné que des remarques ouvertement racistes n'étaient plus considérées comme telles. Marcel paraît tout aussi sincère en nous expliquant qu'il n'aime pas les Noirs que lorsqu'il se défend de tout racisme. Rejeter une part de la population pour sa couleur de peau lui est d'autant plus facile à revendiquer qu'il est incapable de percevoir qu'il franchit une limite, incapable de savoir ce qu'est la discrimination, la xénophobie, l'extrême-droite. Sans doute, sous l'ère de Jean-Marie Le Pen, y avait-il quelque chose de sulfureux, de provocant, d'ouvertement politiquement incorrect à appartenir au FN. Mais aujourd'hui, à force d'entendre les dirigeants du parti répéter sans cesse que le Front national est respectable, les néo-militants sont-ils sincèrement convaincus de cette mutation. Le mouvement étant soi-disant devenu un parti comme un autre, ne pas aimer les Noirs, les étrangers ou les musulmans est donc devenu une opinion comme une autre.

Often in life, we draw conclusions and reflexively take action based on what we see; which in the majority of situations is achingly insignificant or just plain wrong.

Because some decision hurts us beyond measure does mean that that decision is wrong beyond explanation, for some of the most vital decisions we will ever make are often the most painful ones that we will ever experience.

She didn't wish to dampen his enthusiasm, yet she wanted him to remove her name and the gratuitous reference to her as an artist. He was an artist - not her. "Could you possibly make a few small changes before moving the sign to the window?" Her question brought him to a halt. "Did I spell something incorrectly?" "No, but if you could paint over my name and the wording below, it would please me." "But why? That is your name, and you are my artist-in-residence. Customers prefer knowing our names when they come into the store." She didn't want to upset him. No doubt he spent hours painting the sign, and he'd done a good job of it. "I suppose you could leave my name, but I don't think it's proper to advertise me as an artist." He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Bah! You are one of the finest artists I've ever seen. Art comes in many forms. Some in sketching, some in painting, some in pottery, and some in your Scherenschnitte.

I often wonder if people find themselves in all the wrong places not because they had bad directions, but because they live their lives fearing all the right places.

LINUS PAULING WAS WRONG about megavitamins because he had made two fundamental errors. First, he had assumed that you cannot have too much of a good thing. Vitamins are critical to life. If people don’t get enough vitamins, they suffer various deficiency states, like scurvy (not enough vitamin C) or rickets (not enough vitamin D). The reason that vitamins are so important is that they help convert food into energy. But there’s a catch. To convert food into energy, the body uses a process called oxidation. One outcome of oxidation is the generation of something called free radicals, which can be quite destructive. In search of electrons, free radicals damage cell membranes, DNA, and arteries, including the arteries that supply blood to the heart. As a consequence, free radicals cause cancer, aging, and heart disease. Indeed, free radicals are probably the single greatest reason that we aren’t immortal. To counter the effects of free radicals, the body makes antioxidants. Vitamins—like vitamins A, C, E, and beta-carotene—as well as minerals like selenium and substances like omega-3 fatty acids all have antioxidant activity. For this reason, people who eat diets rich in fruits and vegetables, which are rich in antioxidants, tend to have less cancer, less heart disease, and live longer. Pauling’s logic to this point is clear; if antioxidants in food prevent cancer and heart disease, then eating large quantities of manufactured antioxidants should do the same thing. But Linus Pauling had ignored one important fact: Oxidation is also required to kill new cancer cells and clear clogged arteries. By asking people to ingest large quantities of vitamins and supplements, Pauling had shifted the oxidation-antioxidation balance too far in favor of antioxidation, therefore inadvertently increasing the risk of cancer and heart disease. As it turns out, Mae West aside, you actually can have too much of a good thing. (“Too much of a good thing can be wonderful,” said West, who was talking about sex, not vitamins.) Second, Pauling had assumed that vitamins and supplements ingested in food were the same as those purified or synthesized in a laboratory. This, too, was incorrect. Vitamins are phytochemicals, which means that they are contained in plants (phyto- means “plant” in Greek). The 13 vitamins (A, B1, B2, B3, B5, B6, B7, B9, B12, C, D, E, and K) contained in food are surrounded by thousands of other phytochemicals that have long and complicated names like flavonoids, flavonols, flavanones, isoflavones, anthocyanins, anthocyanidins, proanthocyanidins, tannins, isothiocyanates, carotenoids, allyl sulfides, polyphenols, and phenolic acids. The difference between vitamins and these other phytochemicals is that deficiency states like scurvy have been defined for vitamins but not for the others. But make no mistake: These other phytochemicals are important, too. And Pauling’s recommendation to ingest massive quantities of vitamins apart from their natural surroundings was an unnatural act. For example, as described in Catherine Price’s book, Vitamania, half of an apple has the antioxidant activity of 1,500 milligrams of vitamin C, even though it contains only 5.7 milligrams of the vitamin. That’s because the phytochemicals that surround vitamin C in apples enhance its effect

If anyone ever reported my death incorrectly, I'd confirm it was true on Twitter and that I was tweeting through a Ouija board.

If only you hadn't intervened, Miss Erina! Then these ruffians would have flunked out like the insignificant third-rate cooks that they are! Listen, you lot! You only survived because of Miss Erina's mercy! Without a magnanimous Nakiri there to hold your filthy hands, you wouldn't have-" "You are incorrect, sir. All I did was teach them the special properties a potato holds. How to use those potatoes and the inspiration to make Gosetsu Udon Noodles was entirely theirs. Remember this well, sir. These chefs... ... are of much too high a caliber to fail because of the likes of you." No! This is not how it was supposed to be! The Resisters were not supposed to be this organized!! This unified! And with this level of leadership, they won't easily be divided and conquered! It... it's almost as if Jeanne d'Arc herself was reincarnated! "Come. Follow me." A Holy Lady Knight leading an army... ... to wrench control of the Totsuki Institute away from Central!

How To Purchase Digital Securities On The BrightCOIN Platform In this post, we go over the steps an investor must complete to invest in an STO on the BrightCOIN platform. Almost all security token offerings in the US are launched under Reg. D, 506c, Reg. S, or Reg. A+. And as everyone knows by now, every contributor must not only pass KYC and AML screens but also must be accredited investors. So what does a contributor see when he clicks the “Invest Now” button on an STO landing page? You’re immediately taken to the issuer’s branded page to create an account. Once your email is verified, you’re presented with a screen that asks if you’re investing as an individual or an entity, such as an IRA or irrevocable trust, for example. You’ll then provide the information to complete the KYC and AML scans. If you registered as an individual, then you must upload the appropriate investor accreditation documents that will be verified. Alternatively, if you registered as an entity, you must upload the appropriate documents for verification as well. You’ll then be informed that your documentation has been submitted for verification. The verification process typically takes 24-48 hours to complete. Next, you’ll be asked to complete a questionnaire detailing the conditions of the offering. You must acknowledge that you’ve read them all individually then read and acknowledge terms of service and privacy policy. On the next page, you’ll be presented with a form to make your contribution. Choose the currency you wish to make your contribution with, in addition to the amount you’ll contribute. Your contribution will automatically calculate the number of tokens you’ll receive for your contribution based on the current exchange rate. Then, you’ll be presented with the issuer’s subscription agreement. Read it carefully, agree with the terms and sign. The only step left is to confirm your token purchase. That’s it! You’ve completed the whole token purchase process and will receive your tokens at the close of the STO. The content (Blogs, FAQs, News) posted on BrightCOIN may contain incorrect information, always get professional advice. Neither BrightCOIN nor any of its directors, officers, employees, representatives, affiliates or agents shall have any liability whatsoever arising from any error or incompleteness of fact or opinion in, or lack of care in the preparation of, any of the materials posted on this website. BrightCOIN does not provide legal, accounting or tax advice. Any representation or implication to the contrary is expressly disclaimed.

Proust cookies. It was literally all he knew of Proust, though he’d once had to listen to someone’s lengthy argument that Proust had either described madeleines incorrectly or been describing something else entirely.

We are raised under the premise that failure is a wholly undesirable end state, in which we have done something incorrectly. How you view mistakes and failure shapes your willingness to explore the unknown.

A Lasting Legacy I return to Elkins now, to make a summary point and a single closing observation. The summary point is that even as a closed system, slavery, simply because of its long duration, produced over time a distinctive African American culture. This is a point stressed in Eugene Genovese’s Roll, Jordan, Roll and in his mostly sympathetic critique of Elkins. Slaves, for instance, developed a repertoire of songs and stories and relationships—sometimes lifelong relationships—that ultimately helped to form a black identity in the United States. There is no analog for this in the concentration camps, partly because of the nature of the camps and partly because they lasted for just a dozen years from 1933 to 1945. In general, camp prisoners did not form close relationships, partly because this was discouraged by the guards and partly because prisoners realized that the very person you befriended last week could be summarily executed this week. So the only behavioral changes that concentration camps produced were in the nature of short-term adaptations to camp life itself. It follows from this that the cultural legacy of slavery long outlasted slavery while the cultural legacy of the camps—including the peculiar disfigurations of personality that Elkins detected—proved to be a temporary phenomenon. The phenomena of the zombie-like Muselmanner, the ersatz Nazism of the Kapos—all of this is now gone. It makes no sense to say that Jews or eastern Europeans today display any of the characteristics that developed within that temporary closed system. With American blacks, however, the situation is quite different. Although slavery ended in 1865, it lasted more than 200 years, and it had its widest scope during the era of Democratic supremacy in the South from the 1820s through the 1860s. Many of the features of the old slave plantation—dilapidated housing, broken families, a high degree of violence required to keep the place together, a paucity of opportunity and advancement prospects, a widespread sense of nihilism and despair—are evident in Democrat-run inner cities like Oakland, Detroit, Baltimore, and Chicago. “There was a distinct underclass of slaves,” political scientist Orlando Patterson writes, “who lived fecklessly or dangerously. They were the incorrigible blacks of whom the slave-owner class was forever complaining. They ran away. They were idle. They were compulsive liars. They seemed immune to punishment.” And then comes Patterson’s punch line: “We can trace the underclass, as a persisting social phenomenon, to this group.” 39 The Left doesn’t like Patterson because he’s a black scholar of West Indian origin with a penchant for uttering politically incorrect truths.

off a direct address with commas. Examples Gentlemen, keep your seats. Car fifty-four, where are you? Not now, Eleanor, I’m busy. 8. Use commas to set off items in addresses and dates. Examples The sheriff followed me from Austin, Texas, to question me about my uncle. He found me on February 2, 1978, when I stopped in Fairbanks, Alaska, to buy sunscreen. 9. Use commas to set off a degree or title following a name. Examples John Dough, M.D., was audited when he reported only $5.68 in taxable income last year. The Neanderthal Award went to Samuel Lyle, Ph.D. 10. Use commas to set off dialogue from the speaker. Examples Alexander announced, “I don’t think I want a second helping of possum.” “Eat hearty,” said Marie, “because this is the last of the food.” Note that you do not use a comma before an indirect quotation or before titles in quotation marks following the verbs “read,” “sang,” or “wrote.” Incorrect Bruce said, that cockroaches have portions of their brains scattered throughout their bodies. Correct Bruce said that cockroaches have portions of their brains scattered throughout their bodies. Incorrect One panel member read, “Aunt Jennifer’s Tigers,” and the other sang, “Song for My Father.” Correct One panel member read “Aunt Jennifer’s Tigers,” and the other sang “Song for My Father.” 11. Use commas to set off “yes,” “no,” “well,” and other weak exclamations. Examples Yes, I am in the cat condo business. No, all the units with decks are sold. Well, perhaps one with a pool will do. 12. Set off interrupters or parenthetical elements appearing in the middle of a sentence. A parenthetical element is additional information placed as explanation or comment within an already complete sentence. This element may be a word (such as “certainly” or “fortunately”), a phrase (“for example” or “in fact”), or a clause (“I believe” or “you know”). The word, phrase, or clause is parenthetical if the sentence parts before and after it fit together and make sense.