Dave Wills Quotes

When trouble arises and things look bad, there is always one individual who perceives a solution and is willing to take command. Very often, that individual is crazy.

Do what you will, always Walk where you like, your steps Do as you please, I'll back you up. I remember thinking sometimes we walk sometimes we run away But I know no matter how fast we are running Somehow we keep Somehow we keep up with each other.

What the fuck does it take to show you motherfuckers, what does it fucking take what do you want how much do you want because I am willing and I'll stand before you and I'll raise my arms and give you my chest and throat and wait, and I've been so old for so long, for you, for you, I want it fast and right through me-- Oh do it, do it motherfuckers, do it do it you fuckers finally, finally, finally.

It is human nature to want it and want it now; it is also a sign of immaturity. Being willing to delay pleasure for a greater result is a sign of maturity.

Im not going to change my ways, just to please you or appease you, inside a crowd five billion proud willing to punch it out, right, wrong, weak strong, ashes to ashes all fall down.

Here though, there are no oppressors. No one's forcing you to do this. You willingly tie yourself to these leashes. And you willingly become utterly socially autistic. You no longer pick up on basic human communication clues. You're at a table with three humans, all of whom are looking at you and trying to talk to you, and you're staring at a screen! Searching for strangers in... Dubai!

I went there anyway-knowingly, willingly-because I wanted a number one hit. I wanted what Metallica had, even if it meant selling a piece of my soul to the devil.

If things continue this way, there will be two societies - or at least I hope there will be two - the one you're helping create, and an alternative to it. You and your ilk will live, willingly, joyfully, under constant surveillance, watching each other always, commenting on each other, voting and liking and disliking each other, smiling and frowning, and otherwise doing nothing much else.

My plans are a jumble for now, but I do know certain things that I will and will not do. [...] I will reach upward. I will attempt to do better. I will not be a burden upon those who have helped me too much already. I will always be grateful for what pleasure I have enjoyed, what joys I have yet to experience. I will take opportunities as they come, but at the same time, I will not trust so easily. I will look at who is at the door before opening it. I will try to be fierce. I will argue when necessary. I will be willing to fight. I will not smile reflexively at every person I see. I will live as a good child of God, and will forgive him each time he claims another of the people I love. I will forgive and attempt to understand his plans for me, and I will not pity myself.

When you're willing to do the work, it's amazing what can be saved.

If you so much as start to bow or anything like that, Dave, I'll beat you up. I swear I will.

IF YOU WILL LIVE LIKE NO ONE ELSE, LATER YOU CAN LIVE LIKE NO ONE ELSE. This is the motto of your Total Money Makeover. It’s my way of reminding you that if you will make the sacrifices now that most people aren’t willing to make, later on you will be able to live as those folks will never be able to live.

When my parents passed on, and we read their wills, we discovered something we didn’t at all expect, especially from our devoutly Catholic mother: they had both left instructions that their bodies be donated to science. We were bewildered and we were pissed. They wanted their cadavers to be used by medical students, they wanted their flesh to be cut into and their cancerous organs examined. We were breathless. They wanted no elaborate funerals, no expense incurred for such stuff – they hated wasting money or time on ceremony, on appearances. When they died there was little left – the house, the cars. And their bodies, and they gave those away. To offer them to strangers was disgusting, wrong, embarrassing. And selfish to us, their children, who would have to live with the thought of their cold weight sinking on silver tables, surrounded by students chewing gum and making jokes about the location of freckles. But then again: Nothing can be preserved. It’s all on the way out, from the second it appears, and whatever you have always has one eye on the exit, and so screw it. As hideous and uncouth as it is, we have to give it all away, our bodies, our secrets, our money, everything we know: All must be given away, given away every day, because to be human means: 1. To be good 2. To save nothing

from the Basement tapes Eric outdid Dylan with the apologies. To the untrained eye, he seemed sincere. The psychologists on the case found Eric less convincing. They saw a psychopath. Classic. He even pulled the stunt of self-diagnosing to dismiss it. "I wish I was a fucking sociopath so I didn't have any remorse," Eric said. "But I do." Watching that made Dr. Fuselier angry. Remorse meant a deep desire to correct a mistake. Eric hadn't done it yet. He excused his actions several times on the tapes. Fuselier was tough to rattle, but that got to him. "Those are the most worthless apologies I've ever heard in my life," he said. It got more ludicrous later, when Eric willed some of his stuff to two buddies, "if you guys live." "If you live?" Fuselier repeated. "They are going to go in there and quite possibly kill their friends. If they were the least bit sorry they would not do it!

Leaders are not good because they are right, they are good because people follow them, and people follow those who are willing to listen and learn.

WE CAN’T RECEIVE GOD’S GRACE WITHOUT BEING WILLING TO EXTEND GRACE TO OTHERS.

I was born into a town and a family and the town ad my family happened to me. I own none of it. It is everyone's. It is shareware. I like it, I like having been a part of it, I would kill or die to protect those who are part of it, but I don not claim exclusivity. Have it Take it from me. Do with is what you will. Make it useful. This is like making electricity from dirt; it is almost too good to be believed, that we can make beauty from this stuff.

Most of the time a person wants something more than anything else. You can tell because at the end of the day that's what they're willing to fight for" -Dan

Being willing to delay pleasure for a greater result is a sign of maturity.

You willingly tie yourself to these leashes. And you willingly become utterly socially autistic. You no longer pick up on basic human communication clues. You’re at a table with three humans, all of whom are looking at you and trying to talk to you, and you’re staring at a screen,

Of course if you stare at the sky long enough you're bound to get dizzy eventually...the key is harnessing that sense of displacement, never forgetting it, so as to enable one to employ it at will. Simply walking through life without a sense of physical, if not emotional, disembowelment, is not a life worth living.

Pirates are daring, adventurous, and willing to set forth into uncharted territories with no guarantee of success. They reject the status quo and refuse to conform to any society that stifles creativity and independence. They are entrepreneurs who take risks and are willing to travel to the ends of the earth for that which they value.

People with the spirit of pride believe that money only comes from hard work and force of will. These are performance-based individuals who believe their wealth (and maybe even their spiritual growth) is 100 percent tied to their effort.

When she left I realized my roommate, Dave, was awake the whole time and was witness to my entire interaction with Heather. He said something like, 'Good try, man. Just remember, if Christ wants something to happen it will, but it will happen in his time.' which was my first real taste of the born-again-flavored shit pie he was going to force-feed down my throat every day of our freshman year.

You wouldn’t believe what people will believe once they know our story. They’re ready for anything, basically—will believe anything, because they’ve been thrown off-balance, are still wondering if any of this is true, our story in general, but aren’t sure and are terrified of offending us.

Get Fired Up About Your Life Because If You Don't Who Will?

If Dave is willing to do that to his son, what else might he be capable of?

The future that you aspire to will only come if you're willing to let go of what you need to release in your life today.

I often hear the question asked, "What about me?"...... What about you? What do you need/want/desire/long for? What is missing? How long have you felt this way? Does anyone know this? Often just being really heard brings a great sense of peace- to both the listener and speaker. If you're willing. Of course . If you're not-you're probably thinking- "What about me?"......

Even in the little, everyday routines of life, be fully present in the moments together. Be willing to turn off the phones and screens and distractions and make time for each other. At the end of your life looking back, your faith and your family will be all that matters, so please don’t wait until then to make them your top priority. Your love will be the only part of your legacy that can last into eternity.

In a world that moves a quickly as the one we're living in, leaning on how you were raised or what you learned in school may very well make you obsolete if you're not willing to roll up your sleeves and do the work.

I will reach upward. I will attempt to do better. I will not be a burden upon those who have helped me too much already. I will always be grateful for what pleasures I have enjoyed, what joys I have yet to experience. I will take opportunities as they come, but at the same time, I will not trust so easily. I will look at who is at the door before opening it. I will try to be fierce. I will argue when necessary. I will be willing to fight.

And Mac? After we went to Dave and Bubba’s, he comes out to the mound and tells me he thinks you’re hot. And I know you like him, so I was willing to bunt.” “Bunt?” “Willing to sacrifice my happiness.” “You thought you’d be happy being with me?” “Are you kidding? You’re cute, easy to talk to. You love baseball. You make me smile, make me laugh. And we won’t even mention how much I liked kissing you.” Only he had mentioned it. And now I was thinking about it when I really shouldn’t be.

I can't believe he's going to make me give him the speech. I am livid that he's going to make me give him the speech. I do it, piecing it together from times I've seen it done on TV and in movies. I tell him that there are many people who love him and would be crushed if he were to kill himself, while wondering, distantly, if that is the truth. I tell him that he has so much potential, that he has so many things to do, while most of me believes that he will never put his body and brain to much use at all. I tell him that we all have dark periods, while becoming ever more angry at him, the theatrics, the self-pity, all this, when he has everything. He has a complete sort of freedom, with no parents and no dependents, with money and no immediate threats of pain or calamity. He is the 99.9th percentile, as I am. He has no real obligations, can go anywhere at any moment, sleep anywhere, move at will, and still he is wasting everyone's time with this. But I hold that back--I will save that for later--and instead say nothing but the most rapturous and positive things. And though I do not believe much of it, he does. I make myself sick saying it all, everything so obvious, the reasons to live not at all explainable in a few minutes on the edge of a psychiatric ward bed, but still he is roused, making me wonder even more about him, why a fudge-laden pep talk can convince him to live, why he insists on bringing us both down here, to this pedestrian level, how he cannot see how silly we both look, and when, exactly, it was that his head got so soft, when I lost track of him, how it is that I know and care about such a soft and pliant person, where was it again that I parked my car.

Look, Bob, what part of this don't you understand, eh? It's a matter of style, okay? A proper brawl doesn't just happen. You don't just pile in, not anymore. Now, Oyster Dave here--put your helmet back on, Dave--will be the enemy in front, and Basalt, who, as we know, don't need a helmet, he'll be the enemy coming up behind you. Okay, it's well past knuckles time, let's say Gravy there has done his thing with the Bench Swipe, there's a bit of knife play, we've done the whole Chandelier Swing number, blah blah blah, then Second Chair--that's you, Bob--you step smartly between their Number Five man and a Bottler, swing the chair back over your head, like this--sorry, Pointy--and then swing it right back onto Number Five, bang, crash, and there's a cushy six points in your pocket. If they're playing a dwarf at Number Five, then a chair won't even slow him down, but don't fret, hang on to the bits that stay in your hand, pause one moment as he comes at you, and then belt him across both ears. They hate that, as Stronginthearm here will tell you. Another three points. It's probably going to be freestyle after that but I want all of you, including Mucky Mick and Crispo, to try for a Double Andrew when it gets down to the fist-fighting again. Remember? You back into each other, turn around to give the other guy a thumping, cue moment of humorous recognition, then link arms, swing round and see to the other fellow's attacker, foot or fist, it's your choice. Fifteen points right there if you get it to flow just right. Oh, and remember we'll have an Igor standing by, so if your arm gets taken off do pick it up and hit the other bugger with it, it gets a laugh and twenty points. On that subject, do remember what I said about getting everything tattooed with your name, all right? Igors do their best, but you'll be on your feet much quicker if you make life easier for him and, what's more, it's your feet you'll be on. Okay, positions, everyone, let's run through it again...

But see how we are the same? You and I, Will? We both see strangers and we react. We don't like to walk by people without nodding. We're broken when people are rude. We're broken when people can't meet us halfway. We can't accept the limits of normal relationships - chilly, clothed, circumscribed. Our hearts pull against their leashes, Will.

Quadrant II is the important but not urgent. This may be the most important use of your time as an EntreLeader. The things that fall in this category impact the quality of your life and business possibly more than any other area. Examples of what falls into this area are exercise, strategic planning, goal setting, reading nonfiction leadership/business books, taking a class or three, relationship building, prayer, date night with your spouse, a day off devoted to brainstorming, doing your will/estate plan, saving money, and having the oil changed in your car. We can all agree that things that aren’t urgent but are important may be the most important activities we engage in as we look back at our life. The problem is we live in a society where the urge to be in motion, frenetic motion, at all times seems to be the spirit of the age. There is something about a quad II activity that causes you to pause and let a breath out, sigh, then engage in it. Activities like the ones mentioned above are the building blocks of a high-quality life and business, and yet because they are not urgent they seem to be some of the things we avoid the most.

Many of you reading this are convinced that you could become wealthy if you could get out of debt. The problem now is that you are feeling more and more trapped by the debt. I have great news! I have a foolproof, but very difficult, method for getting out of debt. Most people won’t do it because they are average, but not you. You have already figured out that if you will live like no one else, later you can live like no one else. You are sick and tired of being sick and tired, so you are willing to pay the price for greatness. This is the toughest of all the Baby Steps to your Total Money Makeover. It is so hard, but it is so worth it. This step requires the most effort, the most sacrifice, and is where all your broke friends and relatives will make fun of you (or join you).

Copyright © 2021 by Dave Eggers All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Vintage Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York. Originally published in hardcover in the United States by McSweeney’s, San Francisco, in 2021. Vintage and colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC. This is a work of fiction. Nothing described herein actually happened, though much of it likely will. At that point, this will be a work of nonfiction.

The truth was that a complex murder case attracted his attention and curiosity like nothing else on earth. He could make up reasons for it. He could say it was all about justice. About rectifying an imbalance in the scheme of things. About standing up for those who had been struck down. About a quest for truth. But there were other times when he considered it nothing but high-stakes puzzle-solving, an obsessive-compulsive drive to fit all the loose pieces together. An intellectual game, a contest of mind and will. A playing field on which he could excel.

Have you found it different having girls in the house?” He cleared his throat. “Oh, yeah.” “Would you care to elaborate?” “Nope.” I looked up from my writing. “If you don’t elaborate, it’s going to be a very short article.” “Look, I’ve already gotten into it once tonight--” “Are you implying I’m hard to live with? Is that why you won’t comment further? Because you think I’ll be offended? I won’t be.” “No further comment.” I sighed, tempted to toss the recorder at him. “Okay, then, we’ll move on. What’s been the most difficult aspect of living with us?” There was silence, but it was the kind where you can sense someone wants to speak but doesn’t. Jason was so incredibly still, as though he was weighing consequences. “Not kissing you,” he finally said, quietly. My heart did this little stutter. I just stared at him as the recorder continued to run, searching for sound. My hand was shaking when I reached over and turned it off. “But you did kiss me, and you said it was a mistake.” “Because getting involved with you is a bad idea, on so many levels.” “Care to share one of those levels?” “I’m living in your house. Your parents are giving me a roof over my head. Your mom brings home extra takeout. I’m here only for the summer. Then I’m back at school.” He reached up, removed the ice pack from around his shoulder, and set it on the table. “And Mac? After we went to Dave and Bubba’s, he comes out to the mound and tells me he thinks you’re hot. And I know you like him, so I was willing to bunt.” “Bunt?” “Willing to sacrifice my happiness.” “You thought you’d be happy being with me?” “Are you kidding? You’re cute, easy to talk to. You love baseball. You make me smile, make me laugh. And we won’t even mention how much I liked kissing you.” Only he had mentioned it. And now I was thinking about it when I really shouldn’t be.

She made a decision to keep doing what she knew was going to make her a better person tomorrow, and she did it even though it was bugging the crap out of me. That choice-- the decision to unapologetically reach for a better version of herself- had an effect on me over time. What started as anger(obviously, in hindsight, fueled by my insecurity that she might outgrow me if she continued to evolve)slowly gave way to curiosity. What the heck had gotten into her? How is she still so motivated? How can she keep doing so much better when I seem to be doing so much worse? I had no clear answers. I was struggling to know where to begin. I'd been able to figure things out on my own for so long that it was hard to admit I might actually need help to get out of this muck I felt stuck in. At this point, I started to ask questions. I was finally willing to address this space between who I was and who I wanted to be--this space between Rachel growing and me dying. It was a catalyst for me to take a first step toward therapy.

suggest funding college, or at least the first step of college, with an Educational Savings Account (ESA), funded in a growth-stock mutual fund. The Educational Savings Account, nicknamed the Education IRA, grows tax-free when used for higher education. If you invest $2,000 a year from birth to age eighteen in prepaid tuition, that would purchase about $72,000 in tuition, but through an ESA in mutual funds averaging 12 percent, you would have $126,000 tax-free. The ESA currently allows you to invest $2,000 per year, per child, if your household income is under $220,000 per year. If you start investing early, your child can go to virtually any college if you save $166.67 per month ($2,000/year). For most of you, Baby Step Five is handled if you start an ESA fully funded and your child is under eight. If your children are older, or you have aspirations of expensive schools, graduate school, or PhD programs that you pay for, you will have to save more than the ESA will allow. I would still start with the ESA if the income limits don’t keep you out. Start with the ESA because you can invest it anywhere, in any fund or any mix of funds, and change it at will. It is the most flexible, and you have the most control.

I Will Not Tease Rebecca Grimes I have to write one hundred times: "I will not tease Rebecca Grimes." Okay, that's one. I'm far from done. (This isn't gonna be much fun.) "I will not tease Rebecca Grimes." That's two. I'm paying for my crimes. It's all because I pulled her hair And put spaghetti on her chair. Because I gave her goofy looks And squirted mustard on her books, I have to write one hundred times: "I will not tease Rebecca Grimes." That's three. Whoopee. It's going slow. Just ninety-seven more to go. "I will not tease" (I'm keeping score.) "Rebecca Grimes." (Now that makes four.) I'm soaked with sweat. My shirt is damp. I think I'm getting writer's cramp. "I will not, will not, will not tease Rebecca Grimes!" Can I stop, please? The teacher frowns, and that means no. I still have sixty-six to go. "I will-will-will not-not-not-not Tease-tease-tease-tease..." It's getting hot. "I will not tease Rebecca Grimes." That's ninety-nine. The school bell chimes. Just one more line and I'll be through. Rebecca Grimes, this one's for you! My final line will rhyme with "Grimes": "I will not tease Rebecca...Slimes!" Rebecca Slimes! Ha ha! That's great! I'd better hide it. Oops! Too late! The teacher sees what I wrote down. She takes my paper with a frown. I now must write one thousand times: "I will not tease Rebecca Grimes.

Dave Silver was often preceded by the word “visionary” but, in fact, what made people like him compelling was their ability to be willfully blind to everything but their own view of the world.

How is freedom exercised?” ... “Willfully, Irregularly. Through refutation of the custom. The breaking of patterns. Being unseen. Solitude. Social indifference. Fighting ill-wrought power. Irreverence for authority. Moving without limit or schedule through the day and the world. Choosing when to participate and when to withdraw.

I will reach upward. I will attempt to do better. I will not be a burden upon those who have helped me too much already. I will always be grateful for what pleasures I have enjoyed, what joys I have yet to experience. I will take opportunities as they come, but at the same time, I will not trust so easily. I will look at who is at the door before opening it. I will try to be fierce. I will argue when necessary. I will be willing to fight. I will not smile reflexively at every person I see. I will live as a good child of God, and will forgive him each time he claims another of the people I love. I will forgive and attempt to understand his plans for me, and I will not pity myself.

Joy in our trials can begin to take root in our hearts when we understand the magnitude of grace God has given us. Unless we stand in Barabbas’s sandals and find they fit us, we won’t see the gravity of God’s love for us. This is our story. You and I are Barabbas. We needed someone to take our place, and Jesus has done that for us. He willingly took the wrath of God upon himself. On the cross, Jesus absorbed all our wickedness. He has poured out his perfect love upon us.

You can increase your odds of success if you “kill bad ideas fast,” as Dave outlines in the book, rather than “fail fast.” Think of yourself as the first investor in your startup and apply the same discipline to your business that other investors will. Prioritize your resources and your time. Don’t follow your hunch; instead, follow the data.

Like Dostoevsky’s Grand Inquisitor, the Reconstructionists would seem to look upon the return of Christ to this earth as unwelcome interference in their plans for establishing the millennial kingdom. It seems strange, indeed, that the King Himself is not allowed to set up His own kingdom, nor even to be present to reign over it. He has gone to heaven – a place which increasing numbers of His blood-bought people seem only willing to enter when forced by death to do so. And He must remain there, out of their way, because they have a long-range program for improving this world in His absence. They mistakenly believe that the church is in this world to eliminate evil, when in fact it is only here as God’s instrument of restraint. It is not our job to transform this world but to call out of it those who will respond to the gospel.

Here are a few verbs that come to my mind, listed roughly in descending order of emotionality and sentience: agonize, exult, suffer, enjoy, desire, listen, hear, taste, perceive, notice, consider, reason, argue, claim, believe, remember, forget, know, calculate, utter, register, react, bounce, turn, move, stop. I won’t claim that my extremely short list of verbs is impeccably ordered; I simply threw it together in an attempt to show that there is unquestionably a spectrum, a set of shades of gray, concerning words that do and that do not suggest the presence of feelings behind the scenes. The tricky question then is: Which of these verbs (and comparable adjectives, adverbs, nouns, pronouns, etc.) would we be willing to apply to Dave’s zombie twin in Universe Z? Is there some precise cutoff line beyond which certain words are disallowed? Who would determine that cutoff line?

Pirates are daring, adventurous, and willing to set forth into uncharted territories with no guarantee of success. They reject the status quo and refuse to conform to any society that stifles creativity and independence. They

Every decision that we make based on “free will” is ours to learn from, not for God to punish us

Be willing to temporarily give up some freedoms. When an arm is broken, it has to be put in a cast to restrict its motion so it can have time to heal. When you’ve broken trust, you must be willing to temporarily give up certain freedoms and accept certain restrictions to allow time for healing. This is usually the most uncomfortable part of the process, but it’s vital.

Pirates are daring, adventurous, and willing to set forth into uncharted territories with no guarantee of success.

Sean checked his watch, grimaced, and lengthened his stride down the hallway. He’d make it to the high school—but only if he skirted around town instead of cutting through. It was 12:40 p.m. and the downtown streets would be clogged with motorists battling for lunch hour parking. He was halfway down the granite steps when he spotted Dave and Evelyn standing beside his car in the lot reserved for official use. He raised an eyebrow at the twin smiles of angelic innocence on their faces. “What are you two doing, camped out here?” “That should be obvious,” his secretary replied. “You tipped your hand when you canceled your lunch with Ferrucci and the oh-so-friendly developers. So Dave and I decided we might as well share the ride. No point in taking separate cars when we can carpool.” He made a show of looking at his watch. “You want a lift to the deli for sandwiches? Fine, hop on in.” Evelyn made a clucking noise with her tongue. Her pink curls shook slightly. “Sean, we’re your friends. If we’re willing to admit to unholy curiosity, then you should, too.” Dave merely nodded in agreement, wisely holding his tongue. A good thing, too. These days, Sean’s temper had a real short fuse, wired to explode. He didn’t want to throttle his best friend in the town hall parking lot. Sean had thought it would be easier not to see Lily, but he’d been wrong. Just knowing she was near had him craving even a glimpse of her. It was a gnawing hunger that nothing could appease . . . except her.

Has your character ever been questioned because you ate or drank with sketchy people? Not everyone in the neighborhood is cleaned up and easy to be around. We need to be willing to follow Jesus and choose to be with others in uncomfortable situations, because we can't always expect people to come onto our turf; we must also be willing to enter their world. -The Art of Neighboring

If you are willing to be used not only to stand in the gap, but to stand against what the enemy will try to throw at you, God will use you. For

This piece of land was our original sin, except we had found no baptismal rite to expunge it from our lives. That green-purple field of new cane was rooted in rib cage and eye socket. But what of the others whose lives had begun here and ended in other places? The ones who became prostitutes in cribs on Hopkins Street in New Iberia and Jane’s Alley in New Orleans, sliced their hands open with oyster knives, laid bare their shin bones with the cane sickle, learned the twelve-string blues on the Red Hat gang and in the camps at Angola with Leadbelly and Hogman Matthew Maxey, were virtually cooked alive in the castiron sweatboxes of Camp A, and rode Jim Crow trains North, as in a biblical exodus, to southside Chicago and the magic of 1925 Harlem, where they filled the air with the music of the South and the smell of cornbread and greens and pork chops fixed in sweet potatoes, as though they were still willing to forgive if we would only acknowledge their capacity for forgiveness. Tolstoy asked how much land did a man need. Just enough to let him feel the pull of the earth on his ankles and the claim it lays on the quick as well as the dead.

That’s what books do. They are the building blocks, the DNA, if you will, of you. Think of everything you have ever read, everything you have ever learned from holding a book in your hands and how that knowledge shaped you and made you who you are today. Looking back now on all those years, to when I first discovered books at the library, I see that I was simply falling in love. Day, after day, after glorious day, I was falling in love with books.

The problem was twofold: One, finding someone who believed that Donald Trump would run for president. It was a significant risk, and the people Dave knew were already working in jobs and had families and mortgages. Those who were looking for jobs with campaigns were looking for candidates with stable political operations. Few would be willing to take a chance on something that might dry up in a few weeks or months. The second reason might have been even more challenging. And that was finding someone with the right personality to work with Trump.

I’m so tired,” he says. “Me too,” I say, perhaps too quickly. “We’re all tired.” He brings his knees to his chest. “No, I’m really tired,” he says. He rolls onto his side, his back to me. He wants to be encouraged. I put my hand on his shoulder. I can’t believe he’s going to make me give him the speech. I am livid that he’s going to make me give him the speech. I do it, piecing it together from times I’ve seen it done on TV and in movies. I tell him that there are many people who love him and would be crushed if he were to kill himself, while wondering, distantly, if that is the truth. I tell him that he has so much potential, that he has so many things to do, while most of me believes that he will never put his body and brain to much use at all. I tell him that we all have dark periods, while becoming ever more angry at him, the theatrics, the self-pity, all this, when he has everything. He has a complete sort of freedom, with no parents and no dependents, with money and no immediate threats of pain or calamity. He is the 99.9th percentile, as I am. He has no real obligations, can go anywhere at any moment, sleep anywhere, move at will, and still he is wasting everyone’s time with this. But I hold that back—I will save that for later—and instead say nothing but the most rapturous and positive things. And though I do not believe much of it, he does. I make myself sick saying it all, everything so obvious, the reasons to live not at all explainable in a few minutes on the edge of a psychiatric ward bed, but still he is roused, making me wonder even more about him, why a fudge-laden pep talk can convince him to live, why he insists on bringing us both down here, to this pedestrian level, how he cannot see how silly we both look, and when, exactly, it was that his head got so soft, when I lost track of him, how it is that I know and care about such a soft and pliant person, where was it again that I parked my car.

And so, the two Moms engaged in a battle of Looks. They stared at each other, trying to force the other one to bow to her will. Both were experts in the art of ‘The Look’.

What matters most to me and what am I willing to risk? And what, in this life, am I brave enough to fight for?

But how many people will? How many people live in a state of aggressive truth-seeking? The answer is few.

If you find yourself at a low point, you have the opportunity to completely restructure your thinking. You can start by considering new values, new assumptions about the nature of the opportunity you are pursuing, and new views on your role as a leader. You might even reconsider whether you should be a leader or entrepreneur. Your previous approach was not working; perhaps an entirely new one will.

He looked at me in frustration and very politely informed me, "If I let go of your foot, it will fall back out of the socket!" Without hesitation, and in a moment of of pure, stubborn will, I loudly exclaimed, "Well then, you're coming up on stage with me, motherfucker!

Some may read this book and say this is not a fair account of professional soccer in the U.S. Most professional soccer players in the U.S. are paid, although the Royals players were not. But I sensed there would be a more compelling story with a first-year team. I wanted to discover how they mixed work and play, how they managed their love for the game in such challenging conditions and what they were willing to endure to achieve their ambitions.

As these new songs began to materialize, it became apparent to the band’s producers that something new was afoot in Los Lobos’ music. Berlin says, “I remember very, very distinctly when Dave started singing [‘Will the Wolf Survive?’] for the first time that the thought entered my head: ‘OK, everything is different from this point forward.’ Everything we had done up ’til ‘Wolf’ was our version of something else they had done or something they had taken with them. In everything prior to ‘Wolf,’ our influences were pretty obviously on our sleeves. I would say that ‘Wolf’ was the first song where we had built something out of those influences that was uniquely ours. It was just us being us. It was pretty obvious that it was special. We didn’t have anything that was as obviously unique as that song.

over the long term, culture and strategic performance correlate, with the higher factor falling to the level of the lower. Thus, a company with a great culture and low strategic performance will, over time, find that its culture erodes: good people leave, and a “my life sucks” language begins to dominate

Suhani won't get it. Nobody will. Nobody understands that Natasha can be at her loneliest with the people she loves the most. Family, the place you're always supposed to belong, can be the same place that shows you you never really will.

Baseball was Expos' play-by-play man Dave Van Horne's livelihood, and he had to press on. He got back to work when play resumed, though he did stage a kind of silent protest. Van Horne carefully wrote the names of the entire 25-man roster on a little index card, then placed that card in his wallet, where it would sit through the harsh winter that followed the '94 disaster, into 1995 and onward. Ask him about it today and Van Horne will pull out that card, read through the names, and flash a sad smile. Twenty years after baseball sabotaged the best team in Expos history, he remembers what might have been. That card-that incredible roll call-will sit in his pocket for as long as he lives, a reminder of a dream destroyed.

It’s amazing . . .” he said. “When you’re willing to do the work, it’s amazing what can be saved.

We have a patient,” said the villager in brown robes, “and the castle has been lost, so there may be more on the way.” Carl laid Spidroth down on one of the beds. “Has she had any healing potion yet?” asked the pigman in white, looking her over. “No, we didn’t have any,” said Carl, who sounded unusually upset. “Will she be ok?” “Leave her with me, chaps,” said the pigman. “I’m not leaving her,” said Carl. “I don’t even know who you people are.

Guy walks into a bar and asks the girl for a drink take 5 Dave Brubeck style...Ready And Willing To Catch A Real Boy Pinocchio pokeball Pikachu?

No. I’m glad you aren’t like her. You’re vivacious and fun. You always make me relax and have a good time. Relationships—marriages—work because people decide they’ll work. It’s a matter of perspective and what you’re willing to put in.

for granted because they tend to be effortless. But in the end, they require work and forgiveness, a place to move forward from. Sheila has seen Simran through more than any man ever will. They both owed each other more freedom: the freedom to differ in their opinions, the freedom to carry out their own decisions and accept each other’s.

there are three routes to choose from. From Morocco, the Azores, or Senegal; the Cape Verde Islands, St. Paul Island, and Cayenne. Those are the routes most talked about at the start. They are favored because they are the farthest north and the most direct. I have a better, a least safer, idea.” “I’ll warrant you have, Dave, if it’s to be found,” declared Hiram. “What is it?” inquired Elmer. “The objection to those routes,” explained the young airman, “is that the water stretches are of wide extent. What I dread most is the fear of being caught away from land.” “Is there a shorter route than those you speak of?” asked Hiram. “Yes, there is,” asserted Dave. “What is it?” “Egypt, the Sahara Desert, the French Congo, Ascension Island, St. Helena, Trinidad, Rio Janeiro, and we are on American soil.” “Capital!” cried Hiram. “I wouldn’t lose an hour, Dave,” advised Elmer, with real anxiety. “Ever since we found out that there are two of the crowd ahead of us, it seems as if I’d be willing to sleep in the seat in the machine all the way to get ahead of them.” It was a warm, clear day when the Comet came to a rest at the city of Mayamlia, in French Congo. Looking back over the ten days consumed in making the run across Egypt, through Fezzan, the width of the great desert, over darkest Africa, and into the Soudan, the airship boys had viewed a country never before thus inspected by an aerial explorer. “Baked,

You… will... all… die!” the Skeleton King hissed, as it swung its sword at the villagers. “You first,” said Dave, and he fired an arrow from his crossbow at the wither skeleton’s head.

Are any of the main characters going to die? All of them will, apart from Boggo. Then Boggo will become a hero and fight Boggobrine, his long-lost evil brother.

My friends here are Biff, Tina and Jimmy,” said Emma, pointing to each of them in turn. “We were brought to this place against our will.” “So were we,” said Dave. “Oh, and this is Carl the creeper, Porkins the pigman and Spidroth the … Spidroth.

Then I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. I pulled away from Adam and looked down to see my own diamond sword buried in my belly. “I’m sorry,” Adam said, standing up with a grim look on his face. “But you gave me no choice.” I looked up at Adam, who looked down at me with eyes full of hate. “You, Dave and all your friends are all the same,” he said. “You’re just trying to ruin my life! I never asked for any of this—I was just trying to protect my wife!” He grabbed the hilt of his sword and pulled it out of me in one swift motion. And everything went black. ??????? I dreamed of time: of the first burst of light that emerged from the Void; the plants and trees that spread across the land; the first animals that roamed the world in peace; the rise of the Old People and their eventual fall into darkness, and the monsters that took their place when they were gone; the villagers who followed in the Old People’s place. All of time passed before my eyes, and it was glorious. Glorious and terrifying. I saw a thousand versions of myself, stretching back to the beginning of the world. Each was a man in blue clothes with brown hair. All the Steves who had lived and died: all my previous lives. “I want to wake up,” I told them. “I need to go back.” “You will,” they replied. “Although you will be changed. That cannot be helped.” And then a wind swept me up; up towards the light.  And I screamed… THURSDAY I jolted awake in bed. “What was that?” I said. “Some kind of a nightmare?

Leading also allows you to test for “compliance.” Compliance is the level at which she’s willing to follow your lead, and it tells you how much she likes you at a given moment. For

If I am willing to feel stupid for a little bit, I can keep getting smarter and smarter.” Exactly!

Oh that’s just great,” said Carl. “I don’t understand,” said Robo-Steve. “How is that great?” “He’s being sarcastic,” said Dave. “It’s something Carl does a lot.” “I see,” said Robo-Steve. “I’m aware of the fundamentals of sarcasm, but I’m not that experienced at recognizing it. Carl, please can you let me know whenever you’re being sarcastic.” “Oh, I sure will,” said Carl.

When you’re willing to do the work, it’s amazing what can be saved.

losing a debate isn’t a sign of stupidity or weakness, but a sign of growth if you’re willing to embrace it with humility. I

Maxine Beneba Clarke is a powerful and fearless storyteller, and this collection -- written with exquisite sensitivity and yet uncompromising -- will stay with you with the force of elemental truth. Clarke is the real deal, and will, if we're lucky, be an essential voice in world literature for years to come.

I don’t want this to define our lives; I don’t want abuse to become an excuse. We were more than the sum of our experience — we had our own minds, our own free will. The Tangle Box

Dave: ''Will you ever be happy Echo?'' Echo: ''I don’t know I haven’t tried it yet.'' Dave: ''Let’s give it a shot together.'' Echo: ''Let’s spread fire instead.