Dayton Quotes

Fortunately, Park seemed more bemused than offended. “Do you disapprove of human-werewolf relationships, Agent Dayton?” “No. Of course not. I—that’s not what I meant. I just didn’t understand...” Cooper trailed off, thoroughly uncomfortable, and Park took pity on him. “She’s not my type because I’m gay.” The silence was sharp. Vaguely Cooper was aware his mouth was hanging open. He shut it quickly. Then opened it again to say, “Oh, that’s nice.

Fuck you and your memories." "And fuck you and your defiance, Dayton.

You're playing with fire, Aaron. People who do that get burned." "I don't play with fire, Dayton. I stroke it and make it burn hotter and faster until it consumes everything in its path. I'll never take a spark where I can have a roaring flame.

Everybody has a jury, the voices they carry inside. Earl Briggs sits on my jury, Gloria Dayton, too. They are there with Katie and Sandy, my mother, my father, and soon Legal Siegel as well. Those I have loved and those I have hurt. Those who bless me and those who haunt me. My gods of guilt. Every day I carry on and I carry them close. Every day I step into the well before them and I argue my case.

She was a Seeker now, marked for life. She had thought this brand would be an eblem of pride, but now it meant something entirely different. She was damned.

Dayton had no civilized culture.

I really did go back to Dresden with Guggenheim money (God love it) in 1967. It looked a lot like Dayton, Ohio, more open spaces than Dayton has.

I wasn't just tied to the beast, we were somehow part of the same person. The freakishly opposite sides of the same f*ing coin." Dayton in Redemption

I talk to him when I'm lonesome like; and I'm sure he understands. When he looks at me so attentively, and gently licks my hands; then he rubs his nose on my tailored clothes, but I never say naught thereat. For the good Lord knows I can buy more clothes, but never a friend like that.

You’re afraid.” Cooper nodded, then let his head tip back, gasping, when Oliver pulled him closer still and moved to nuzzle over the scars on his belly. “Why?” “Because you can hurt me.” It slipped out without Cooper thinking, and he almost kicked himself when Oliver pulled away to stare at him seriously. “I would never.” “Not like that. You could hurt me because I... I care.” The last words were nothing more than a mumbled exhale that your average person wouldn’t have heard. Oliver heard. He stood, their bodies pressed together, and he leaned in so his mouth was hovering over Cooper’s. “In that case, you scare me, too.” Cooper’s heart pounded and he tingled all over. “Yeah?” He felt Oliver’s smile on his lips. “Special Agent Dayton, I’m absolutely terrified, and I couldn’t be happier about it.

I mean it today. And tomorrow, it will be today again, and I will mean it for that today. It's always today, Pearl. Don't worry about tomorrow, because it's always today, and every today we have, I will mean it. I will not leave you. Not willingly. Dont't make my mistake. Let me unmake it. Don't throw me away.

Of all the intoxicants you can find on the road (including a "national beer" for nearly every country in the world), marijuana deserves a particular mention here, primarily because it's so popular with travelers. Much of this popularity is due to the fact that marijuana is a relatively harmless diversion (again, provided you don't get caught with it) that can intensify certain impressions and sensations of travel. The problem with marijuana, however, is that it's the travel equivalent of watching television: It replaces real sensations with artificially enhanced ones. Because it doesn't force you to work for a feeling, it creates passive experiences that are only vaguely connected to the rest of your life. "The drug vision remains a sort of dream that cannot be brought over into daily life," wrote Peter Matthiessen in The Snow Leopard. "Old mists may be banished, that is true, but the alien chemical agent forms another mist, maintaining the separation of the 'I' from the true experience of the 'One.'" Moreover, chemical highs have a way of distracting you from the utterly stoning natural high of travel itself. After all, roasting a bowl might spice up a random afternoon in Dayton, Ohio, but is it really all that necessary along the Sumatran shores of Lake Toba, the mountain basins of Nepal, or the desert plateaus of Patagonia? As Salvador Dali quipped, "I never took drugs because I am drugs." With this in mind, strive to be drugs as you travel, to patiently embrace the raw, personal sensation of unmediated reality--an experience for more affecting than any intoxicant can promise.

Yea for we are the conquerors And all that is lies before us A black domain of stars And we the brightest lights within it

He dragged her under him and made love to her with the steadiness and the intensity of a man about to leave for Dayton.

You’ve got exactly twenty-seven hours and then I’m coming in there and trimming you down,” Park said from above. “Like your big head could fit,” Cooper said. “And twenty-seven hours? It’s 127 hours! What do you think, he sawed his own arm off after one day?” “You want to make it twenty-seven minutes, Dayton?” Park said.

He was released in 2006, and his memoir, the book for which he was getting the prize in Dayton, In the Place of Justice, tells his story, from being a confused kid caught in a bank robbery gone bad, to a man who had fully taken

Are you sure you’re not psychotic?” Her warm breath tickled Dayton’s lips and it was pure madness to endure their proximity without ensnaring her in a kiss. He was of the opinion that the last thing she wanted was his lips on hers and so he opted for a safer point of contact. His fingers threaded through her hair and he brought his mouth to the shell of her ear. “No, darling, that’s love. The greatest emotional disturbance known to mankind.

Ye think work cannae be done drunk? Sometimes being drunk improves it.

Say, there's plenty of Americans on this train. They've got seven cars of them from Dayton, Ohio.

Most of them students from the nearby University of Dayton...

hibernation. Their usual stint was a single day or less, but five-days

There isn’t a price I wouldn’t pay for you, Dayton. Money has no value when the thing you desire is priceless.

Dayton, dear, I could teach you a thing or two about pretty head.

The story is, a man came up to Yosemite and the ranger was sitting at the front gate and the man said, "I've only got one hour to see Yosemite. If you only had one hour to see Yosemite, what would you do?" And the ranger said, "Well, I'd go right over there, and I'd sit on that rock, and I'd cry." - Nevada Barr

This is something you learn when you have taken hundreds of tests: The person who wrote the test has selected one answer as truth. If you don’t choose that answer, you are marked as having chosen wrong. And yet, as the test taker, you still get to select which answer you believe is correct. It is your option, always, to see the answer differently from anyone else.

Furthoe didn’t give you the whole story, but we’re on the edge of a cliff right now, Dayton. Tensions with the wolf community haven’t been this high since the coming-out and every ignorant comment and action on our part makes it exponentially worse.

Pearl spent the passing days buried so deep in the musty, dusty sorcery tomes that sometimes when she emerged, she spoke in archaic english. "Hast thou a light?" she'd asked him this afternoon when her study room had grown dark with gathering clouds.

He mocked Dayton as a “one-horse Tennessee village” and its citizens the “gaping primates of the upland valleys.”7 Yet whenever a fundamentalist movement is attacked, either with violence or in a media campaign, it almost invariably becomes more extreme.

One of the greatest inventions of the 20th century -- indeed, one of the landmark inventions in the history of the human race -- was the work of a couple of young men who had never gone to college and who were just bicycle mechanics in Dayton, Ohio. That part of the United States is often referred to as 'flyover country' because it is part of America that the east coast and west coast elites fly over on their way to what they consider more important places. But they are able to fly over it only because of those mechanics in Dayton.

And she has been there. I know because her senior high school yearbook, the one with no Daytons, is gone from the bureau where i had left it. She's seen my things scattered about. She knows I'm still here. But she didn't wait Part of me doesn't want to give up, and makes excuses. "She'll be back =," it says. "She just didn't want to run into Aunt Ida. Now that she knows you're here..." But she knew it. Where else would I be? I have to face it: I'm not as important as some package she needs from Seattle. My presence won't bring her back.

You see, they don’t have to completely change shape to grow claws or fangs, and that is what makes them so dangerous, as you well know, Agent Dayton.” Cooper’s hand twitched to his stomach. The stitches had been removed but the skin was still raw and tender, and the indigestion daily.

You probably didn’t intend it, but you’ve done me a favor. With an assist from Detective Dayton. You’ve solved a problem for me. No man likes to betray a friend but I wouldn’t betray an enemy into your hands. You’re not only a gorilla, you’re an incompetent. You don’t know how to operate a simple investigation. I was balanced on a knife-edge and you could have swung me either way. But you had to abuse me, throw coffee in my face, and use your fists on me when I was in a spot where all I could do was take it. From now on I wouldn’t tell you the time by the clock on your own wall. ” For some strange reason he sat there perfectly still and let me say it. Then he grinned. “You’re just a little old cop-hater, friend. That’s all you are, shamus, just a little old cop-hater.” “There are places where cops are not hated, Captain. But in those places you wouldn’t be a cop.

The change from the crowded, stifling hot, noisy confines of the workspace at Dayton to the open reaches of sea and sky on the Outer Banks could hardly have been greater or more welcome. They loved Kitty Hawk. “Every year adds to our comprehension of the wonders of this place,” wrote Orville to Katharine soon after arrival.

The little town of Dayton - not far from where Katz and I now sat, as it happened - was the scene of the famous Scopes trial in 1925, when the state prosecuted a schoolteacher named John Thomas Scopes for rashly promulgating Darwinian hogwash. As nearly everyone knows, Clarence Darrow, for the defense, roundly humiliated William Jennings Bryan, for the prosecution, but what most people don't realize is that Darrow lost the case. Scopes was convicted, and the law wasn't overturned in Tennessee until 1967. And now the state was about to bring the law back, proving conclusively that the danger for Tennesseans isn't so much that they may be descended from apes as overtaken by them.

You want to know the problem with going somewhere no one’s ever been? It takes so damned long to get there.

Still, I knew from that first moment that my tour on the Enterprise was going to be something special.” He shrugged. “The name carries that level of expectation, you know?

I hate time travel.

Giving is not God’s way of raising money; it is God’s way of raising people into the likeness of His Son.

She gathered herself up- rather like collecting her skirts before mountibg a carriage

She gathered herself up- rather like collecting her skirts before mounting a carriage

Have you traveled through time?” “Yes,” Worf said, “but I do not recommend it.

When in fact rights are not objects of social mandates, but natural extensions of existence.

Government should reflect the Ethics of its society, not the other way around.

This object of First Estate is the first ownership. It is your tool by which you interact with the universe.

Change also comes when we learn to do something different, to make choices in our thinking and daily routines that interrupt a downward spiral and create an upward one.

My master says that I am Young, Middle, and Old now,” the Young Dread told her, her eyes downcast, looking at the athame in her hand. “Or perhaps I am none of these. We shall see.

The Prayer of the Beasts: “Men are made for the Law of God, but the beasts and birds obey Him. Men sing hymns upon the alter of God, but the beasts and birds are His song.

If God gave us minds, should we not embrace the fruits of those minds? Surely it is a mercy, and a beautiful calling, to minister to the injured and the ill?

All I know is that I can never see him enough. I can never kiss him enough. There isn't enough of him in the world. I'll always be on a quest for one more look from him, one more laugh.

If politics is often violent and totalitarian in nature and politics is philosophy in action, doesn’t this imply that there is something incorrect with the core metaphysics of the whole philosophy?

I think that is what a national park is all about. It gives people breathing room. It gives people a tranquil atmosphere. It gives them an opportunity to be a part of nature, You're just part of it all." - Juanita Green

And outside Watts, a dozen more shootings produce a dozen more weeping families that have to struggle stoically through their black grief or that can stand behind microphones and declare their black anger, and the bodies pile higher and higher and higher, and so does the frustration with the impunity 'because,' says the district attorney in St. Louis in Kansas City in Staten Island in Dayton in Gary in Albuquerque in Oakland, 'you can’t indict an algorithm.

One of the problems with shutting down feeling is that we begin to live in our heads. We tell ourselves a story about what we think we’re feeling or what we think we should be feeling rather than feeling our genuine emotions and allowing words to grow out of them so we can accurately describe our inner experience. When we can feel our feelings and then translate them into language, we can use our reasoning ability to play a role in regulating our emotional experience.

I don’t disagree,” he said slowly. “But what else can we do? With all due respect, we’re overtaxed. There aren’t enough agents for all the flagged cases and when we do get there we don’t have the information or experience needed. Not to mention bad relations with the wolves don’t make them any more willing to be helpful.” Surprisingly, Director Furthoe looked pleased, almost smug. “I’m glad you agree, Agent Dayton. When Cola suggested you for this, I knew you’d be a perfect fit.

This King was not surrounded by love at all, but arrogant selfish men, who’s only purpose had been to become strong enough to enter, thus by doing so isolating themselves and their idea of what the King should be from all the rest of their kind.

Nothing is better, no reward greater than our true connection with ourselves, and through that we can reach out and really touch another. Working through trauma pulls us from the surface of life into the wellspring from which we learn who we really are.

Pleased as punch. That's an odd-sounding turn of phrase, isn't it? How can a punch be pleased? It's punch. Rum and lemons and such. And if it's the other sort of punch they mean, a punch in the face- well that doesn't sound very pleasing at all, does it?

The warmth in his eyes flared to heat and he captured her hand in both of his, bending over it to hold his lips against the back a long moment. He did not exactly kiss it so much as breathe her in. She feared her hand smelled of bacon, but he didn't seem to care.

Ohio is a scale model of the entire country, jammed into 43,000 square miles. Cleveland views itself as the intellectual East (its citizens believe they have a rivalry with Boston and unironically classify the banks of Lake Erie as the North Coast). Cincinnati is the actual South (they fly Confederate flags and eat weird food). Dayton is the Midwest. Toledo is Pittsburgh, before Pittsburgh was nice. Columbus is a low-altitude Denver, minus the New World Order airport. Ohio experiences all possible US weather, sometimes simultaneously.

To know that the lady in Dayton is afraid to walk the streets alone at night, to know that she has a mixed view about blacks and civil rights because before moving to the suburbs she lived in a neighborhood that became all black, to know that her brother-in-law is a policeman, to know that she does not have the money to move if her new neighborhood deteriorates, to know that she is deeply distressed that her son is going to a community junior college where LSD was found on campus—to know all this is the beginning of contemporary political wisdom.

Good organizations have the ability to debate and argue—this is what keeps relationships healthy. Conflict, when it’s not personal and the end goal is for the right decision, is a good thing, and will lead to productivity. Good organizations and healthy families are built and thrive on the ability to debate.

The fact that Cooper Dayton was running down the side streets of Bethesda and not driving back to D.C. by now was proof that his father had been dead wrong. His haircut was plenty professional. Too professional, even. How else could Ben Pultz have made him as a federal agent from thirty feet away and taken off running? Not from his jeans and T-shirt. Not from the weapons carefully hidden under his intentionally oversized jacket. It had to be the bureau-regulation hair. Apparently Pultz didn’t think he looked like a “boy band reject,” though Cooper doubted his dad, Sherriff Dayton, would be swayed by the opinion of a fleeing homicide suspect.

Likewise, U.S. Naval Technical Intelligence had officers in Paris preparing for its own highly classified hunt for any intelligence regarding the Henschel Hs 293, a guided missile developed by the Nazis and designed to sink or damage enemy ships. The U.S. Army Air Forces (AAF) were still heavily engaged in strategic bombing campaigns, but a small group from Wright Field, near Dayton, Ohio, was laying plans to locate and capture Luftwaffe equipment and engineers. Spearheading Top Secret missions for British intelligence was a group of commandos called 30 Assault Unit, led by Ian Fleming, the personal assistant to the director of British naval intelligence and future author of the James Bond novels.

The goal of Combined Intelligence Objectives Subcommittee was to investigate all things related to German science. Target types ran the gamut: radar, missiles, aircraft, medicine, bombs and fuses, chemical and biological weapons labs. And while CIOS remained an official joint venture, there were other groups in the mix, with competing interests at hand. Running parallel to CIOS operations were dozens of secret intelligence-gathering operations, mostly American. The Pentagon’s Special Mission V-2 was but one example. By late March 1945, Colonel Trichel, chief of U.S. Army Ordnance, Rocket Branch, had dispatched his team to Europe. Likewise, U.S. Naval Technical Intelligence had officers in Paris preparing for its own highly classified hunt for any intelligence regarding the Henschel Hs 293, a guided missile developed by the Nazis and designed to sink or damage enemy ships. The U.S. Army Air Forces (AAF) were still heavily engaged in strategic bombing campaigns, but a small group from Wright Field, near Dayton, Ohio, was laying plans to locate and capture Luftwaffe equipment and engineers. Spearheading Top Secret missions for British intelligence was a group of commandos called 30 Assault Unit, led by Ian Fleming, the personal assistant to the director of British naval intelligence and future author of the James Bond novels. Sometimes, the members of these parallel missions worked in consort with CIOS officers in the field.

Amanusa sighed. She held out her hand to her husband who helped her to her feet. "Back to the salt mine Grey calls a workroom. I left my students practicing lancing." "Good god," Grey exclaimed. "The floors will be awash in blood." "Hardly. They're practicing on themselves. Most of them haven't managed to pierce the skin yet." Amanusa shook her head in mild disappointment.

Have you not heard? No stone can be undone! Each is a perfect version of itself no matter its size. If you were to rub a stone with paper until it was an atom, a micron in width, it would still be a stone. If you were to further rub it until it was a boson in width, its radiant perfection would still be a stone. The smaller you were to make it, the bigger and more it would become!

Virtually all letter writers confessed how their encounter with Nietzsche's philosophy either emboldened or chastened them, liberated them from old falsehoods, or saddled them with new moral responsibilities. Helen Bachmuller of Dayton, Ohio, wrote to let Förster-Nietzsche know that her brother had inspired the belief that human greatness was still possible in the modern world. Though unworthy of his greatness, he nevertheless awakened in her a longing for something deeper in herself. Nietzsche, Bachmuller confessed, had saved her from her 'own inner emptiness.' The 'Ohio country' she called home had become 'tame and commonplace,' filled with lives 'trivial and ... essentially ugly, for they are engrossed with matters of money and motors, not with work or faith or art.' She regarded the Methodist church near her house as 'vulgar, pretentious.' Though disgusted by the offensive mediocrity around her, she was also chagrined by her own limitations: 'It would be, probably, impossible for you to imagine anything more superficial than I am.' But reading presumably the recently released translation of Förster-Nietzsche's The_Nietzsche-Wagner_Correspondence had exposed Bachmuller to 'depths beyond depths, of one great soul striking fire against another great soul, and I became thrilled. I could feel the harmonies and dissonances, the swell and surge of those two glorious beings, and I felt much more that I cannot express.' Reading Nietzsche enlivened her to the possibility 'for a companionship that would stimulate, that would deepen, that would give me Tiefen [depth].' Nietzsche strengthened her resolve that 'all my life I will hold on to my hunger, if I never manage to have a soul, at any rate I will remain, by hook or crook, aware of it and I will desire one all my life, I will not accept substitutes.

Silence fell between them, until the Young Dread finally dared ask, “Were you a great mind, master?” A real smile crossed his face. “You don’t ask if I am a great mind, child? Because I speak gibberish now? Let me tell you – I once thought I was a great mind.” “And now?” “Now it does not matter. Great minds are not what’s wanted. Only good hearts. Good hearts choose wisely. “How does one find a good heart?” “It is luck child. Always luck. With you, I have been very lucky.

Consider my life before I moved in with Mamaw. In the middle of third grade, we left Middletown and my grandparents to live in Preble County with Bob; at the end of fourth grade, we left Preble County to live in a Middletown duplex on the 200 block of McKinley Street; at the end of fifth grade, we left the 200 block of McKinley Street to move to the 300 block of McKinley Street, and by that time Chip was a regular in our home, though he never lived with us; at the end of sixth grade, we remained on the 300 block of McKinley Street, but Chip had been replaced by Steve (and there were many discussions about moving in with Steve); at the end of seventh grade, Matt had taken Steve’s place, Mom was preparing to move in with Matt, and Mom hoped that I would join her in Dayton; at the end of eighth grade, she demanded that I move to Dayton, and after a brief detour at my dad’s house, I acquiesced; at the end of ninth grade, I moved in with Ken—a complete stranger—and his three kids. On top of all that were the drugs, the domestic violence case, children’s services prying into our lives, and Papaw dying. Today, even remembering that period long enough to write it down invokes an intense,

Ohio hadn’t gone through the same real estate boom as the Sun Belt, but the vultures had circled the carcasses of dying industrial towns––Dayton, Toledo, Mansfield, Youngstown, Akron––peddling home equity loans and refinancing. All the garbage that blew up in people’s faces the same way subprime mortgages had. A fleet of nouveau riche snake oil salesmen scoured the state, moving from minority hoods where widowed, churchgoing black ladies on fixed incomes made for easy marks to the white working-class enclaves and then the first-ring suburbs. The foreclosures began to crop up and then turn into fields of fast-moving weeds, reducing whole neighborhoods to abandoned husks or drug pens. Ameriquest, Countrywide, CitiFinancial––all those devious motherfuckers watching the state’s job losses, plant closings, its struggles, its heartache, and figuring out a way to make a buck on people’s desperation. Every city or town in the state had big gangrenous swaths that looked like New Canaan, the same cancer-patient-looking strip mall geography with brightly lit outposts hawking variations on usurious consumer credit. Those entrepreneurs saw the state breaking down like Bill’s truck, and they moved in, looking to sell the last working parts for scrap.

While we waited on a bench outside the motel office, I bought a copy of the Nashville Tennessean out of a metal box, just to see what was happening in the world. The principal story indicated that the state legislature, in one of those moments of enlightenment with which the southern states often strive to distinguish themselves, was in the process of passing a law forbidding schools from teaching evolution. Instead they were to be required to instruct that the earth was created by God, in seven days, sometime, oh, before the turn of the century. The article reminded us that this was not a new issue in Tennessee. The little town of Dayton—not far from where Katz and I now sat, as it happened—was the scene of the famous Scopes trial in 1925, when the state prosecuted a schoolteacher named John Thomas Scopes for rashly promulgating Darwinian hogwash. As nearly everyone knows, Clarence Darrow, for the defense, roundly humiliated William Jennings Bryan, for the prosecution, but what most people don’t realize is that Darrow lost the case. Scopes was convicted, and the law wasn’t overturned in Tennessee until 1967. And now the state was about to bring the law back, proving conclusively that the danger for Tennesseans isn’t so much that they may be descended from apes as overtaken by them.

Over a three-month period in 1995, Holbrooke alternately cajoled and harangued the parties to the conflict. For one month, he all but imprisoned them at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Dayton, Ohio—a stage where he could precisely direct the diplomatic theater. At the negotiations’ opening dinner, he seated Miloševic´ under a B-2 bomber—literally in the shadow of Western might. At a low point in the negotiations, he announced that they were over, and had luggage placed outside the Americans’ doors. Miloševic´ saw the bags and asked Holbrooke to extend the talks. The showmanship worked—the parties, several of them mortal enemies, signed the Dayton Agreement. It was an imperfect document. It ceded almost half of Bosnia to Miloševic´ and the Serbian aggressors, essentially rewarding their atrocities. And some felt leaving Miloševicć in power made the agreement untenable. A few years later, he continued his aggressions in Kosovo and finally provoked NATO airstrikes and his removal from power, to face trial at The Hague. The night before the strikes, Miloševic´ had a final conversation with Holbrooke. “Don’t you have anything more to say to me?” he pleaded. To which Holbrooke replied: “Hasta la vista, baby.” (Being menaced by a tired Schwarzenegger catchphrase was not the greatest indignity Miloševic´ faced that week.) But the agreement succeeded in ending three and a half years of bloody war. In a sense, Holbrooke had been preparing for it since his days witnessing the Paris talks with the Vietnamese fall apart, and he worked hard to avoid repeating the same mistakes. Crucial to the success of the talks was his broad grant of power from Washington, free of micromanagement and insulated from domestic political whims. And with NATO strikes authorized, military force was at the ready to back up his diplomacy—not the other way around. Those were elements he would grasp at, and fail to put in place, in his next and final mission.

The goal was ambitious. Public interest was high. Experts were eager to contribute. Money was readily available. Armed with every ingredient for success, Samuel Pierpont Langley set out in the early 1900s to be the first man to pilot an airplane. Highly regarded, he was a senior officer at the Smithsonian Institution, a mathematics professor who had also worked at Harvard. His friends included some of the most powerful men in government and business, including Andrew Carnegie and Alexander Graham Bell. Langley was given a $50,000 grant from the War Department to fund his project, a tremendous amount of money for the time. He pulled together the best minds of the day, a veritable dream team of talent and know-how. Langley and his team used the finest materials, and the press followed him everywhere. People all over the country were riveted to the story, waiting to read that he had achieved his goal. With the team he had gathered and ample resources, his success was guaranteed. Or was it? A few hundred miles away, Wilbur and Orville Wright were working on their own flying machine. Their passion to fly was so intense that it inspired the enthusiasm and commitment of a dedicated group in their hometown of Dayton, Ohio. There was no funding for their venture. No government grants. No high-level connections. Not a single person on the team had an advanced degree or even a college education, not even Wilbur or Orville. But the team banded together in a humble bicycle shop and made their vision real. On December 17, 1903, a small group witnessed a man take flight for the first time in history. How did the Wright brothers succeed where a better-equipped, better-funded and better-educated team could not? It wasn’t luck. Both the Wright brothers and Langley were highly motivated. Both had a strong work ethic. Both had keen scientific minds. They were pursuing exactly the same goal, but only the Wright brothers were able to inspire those around them and truly lead their team to develop a technology that would change the world. Only the Wright brothers started with Why. 2.

Leonard H. Stringfield 1)Retrievals of the Third Kind: A Case Study of Alleged UFOs and Occupants in Military Custody. The first formal research paper presented publicly on the subject of UFO crash/retrievals at the MUFON Symposium, Dayton, Ohio, July, 1978. Original edition, dated April, 1978, was published in MUFON Proceedings (1978). Address: MUFON, 103 Oldtowne Road, Seguin, Texas 78155. If available, price___________. 2)Retrievals of the Third Kind: A Case Study of Alleged UFOs and Occupants in Military Custody,Status Report I. Revised edition, July, 1978, word processed copy, 34 pages. Available at author's address. See below. Price, USA___________. 3)UFO Crash/Retrieval Syndrome, Status Report II. Published by MUFON. Flexible cover, typeset, illustrations, 37 pages. Available only at MUFON address: 103 Oldtowne Road, Seguin, Texas 78155. Price, USA___________. 4)UFO Crash/Retrievals: Amassing the Evidence, Status Report III, June 1982; flexible cover, typeset, illustrations, 53 pages. Available from author's address. See below. Price, USA___________. 5)The Fatal Encounter at Ft. Dix -- McGuire: A Case Study, Status Report IV, June, 1985. Paper presented at MUFON Symposium, St. Louis, Missouri, 1985. Xeroxed copy, 26 pages. Available at author's address. See below. Price, USA___________. 6)UFO Crash/Retrievals: Is the Coverup Lid Lifting? Status Report V. Published in MUFON UFO Journal, January, 1989, with updated addendum. Xeroxed copy, 23 pages. Available at author's address. See below. Price, USA___________. 7)Inside Saucer Post, 3-0 Blue. Book privately published, 1957. Review of author's early research and cooperative association with the Air Defense Command Filter Center, using code name, FOX TROT KILO 3-0 BLUE. Flexible cover, typeset, illustrations, 94 pages. Available from author's address. See below. Price, USA___________. 8)Situation Red: The UFO Siege. Hardcover book published by Doubleday & Co., 1977. Paperback edition published by Fawcett Crest Books, 1977. Also foreign publishers. Out of print, not available. 9)Orbit Newsletter, published monthly, 1954-1957, by author for international sale and distribution. Set of 36 issues. Some issues out of stock, duplicated by xerox. Available at author's address -- see below. Price of set, USA___________. 10)UFO Crash/Retrievals: The Inner Sanctum, Status Report VI, July, 1991; flexible cover, book length, 81.000 words, 142 (8-1/2 X 11) pages, illustrated. Privately published. Available from author's address. See below. Price, USA___________. Prices include postage and handling. Mailings to Canada, add 500 for each item ordered. All foreign orders, payable U.S. funds, International money order or draft on U.S. Bank. Recommend Air Mail outside U.S. territories. Check on price. Leonard H. Stringfield 4412 Grove Avenue Cincinnati, Ohio 45227 USA Telephone: (513) 271-4248

Emotional literacy is the ability to translate our emotions into words so that our feelings and thoughts can be held out in the intellectual space between two people, shared and reflected on, so that we can think about what we’re feeling. It is a natural outgrowth of sound emotional development. To attain and maintain emotional sobriety, we need to learn to tolerate our strong feelings and translate those feelings into words.

If we cannot tolerate our strong emotions and the physical sensations that accompany them, we will want to somehow get rid of them, to make them go away. When we can tolerate our powerful emotions and sensations without blowing up, withdrawing, or self-medicating, we can use the information that we gain from them to inform our thinking. Simply stated, if we don’t know what we feel, it’s hard to make sense of ourselves and make sense of another person. And it’s hard to communicate what we feel and tolerate listening to another person communicate what they feel.

When we can use our thinking mind to make sense and meaning of our limbic mind, we develop a feeling of mastery and self-confidence, knowing that we can find a way to deal with what life throws in our direction. We feel we have the skills necessary to cope with our lives, and at those moments when we can’t, we know how to ask for help.

Our experiences combine together forming a brain/body template, from which we operate throughout our lives. This may be one of the most important understandings we can have. Our early experiences literally weave themselves into our neural systems, becoming a neural basis for self-regulation and emotional sobriety.

Distorted reasoning—which may take the form of rationalizing and justifying bizarre or unusual forms of behavior and relations—can be immature and can also produce core beliefs about life upon which even more distorted reasoning is based. For example, “he is only hitting me because he loves me.

Along with mistrust, hyperreactivity, hyperarousal, depression, and aggression, the numbing response and emotional constriction that are part of the trauma response may lead to the loss of ability to accept caring and support from others. As mistrust grows, so does the ability to accept love and support (van der Kolk 1987).

A person who escapes from an unhealthy family system while others remain mired within it may experience what is referred to as “survivor’s guilt.” The guilt one feels of being the one who “got away” while others may not have been able to.

People who have experienced trauma may have a tendency to isolate or to withdraw for safety into a lonely world of their own in order to avoid pain. Reaching out may make them feel too vulnerable or rejection sensitive, or they may be out of touch with their need for connection and support or not know how to bring it into their experience.

Reenactment patterns. It is a natural phenomenon of unresolved and unconscious pain that gets recreated over and over again in what psychologists call an attempt to “master pain.” Memory is state dependent, so we tend to re-create familiar patterns when confronted with like circumstances.

Giving words to trauma begins to heal it. Hiding it or pretending it isn’t there creates a cauldron of pain that eventually boils over. That’s where addiction comes in: In the absence of sharing and receiving support, pain feels overwhelming. The person in pain reaches not toward people, whom he or she has learned to distrust, but toward a substance that he or she has learned can be counted on to kill the pain, to numb the hurt. Such actions are attempts to self-medicate, to manage emotional pain, but the relief is temporary and had at a huge price. Addicts may initially feel they have found a solution, but the solution becomes a primary problem: addiction. The longer traumatized people rely on external substances to regulate their internal worlds, the weaker those inner worlds become and, consequently, the fewer their available personal resources. Addicts become out of practice for living. Emotional muscles atrophy from lack of healthy exercise.

Otherwise, we may not understand how yesterday’s experiences are driving our behavior today. One-to-one therapy, 12-step programs, and group therapy are all places where this repair can occur. I have found the role-play techniques of psychodrama particularly useful here. Being able to momentarily inhabit the role of the confused, wounded, or even elated child, for example, allows the child within us to have a voice while the adult in us looks on.

They may become what family systems theorists call the “symptom bearer,” symptomatic on behalf of the whole family. Children who act out, for example, can have the effect of getting warring parents to pull together in order to address what’s going on for the child; thus, the family buys some more time, the focus is diverted from the parent’s or the family’s underlying problems, and homeostasis, albeit a costly one, is again achieved.

Naming and talking about the problem is crucial. While the problem sits unspoken in the emotional underbelly of the family, it affects everyone, but no one is really sure what they are feeling or why they’re feeling it. Nor do they necessarily understand why they have an impulse to act out, withdraw, or self-medicate. Family members feel crazy inside. They see one reality being shown on the surface, but they sense and pick up on a very different one that is denied. “No talk” rules and the family’s need to look good and present a “normal” face to the world may make pain denied and off-limits.

Those in the system who have the clarity or courage to act as whistle blowers, who attempt to reveal the truth of the family pathology, may be perceived by the family, which is steeped in denial, as in some way problematic. Naming the dysfunctional behavior becomes the sin, not the dysfunctional behavior itself. These members may be cut off, humiliated, or even hated if they get too close to the truth, though much of this may be unconscious.

We have understood and recognized how emotional trauma changes not only the mind and heart of a person, but the body as well; how living with chronic emotional pain affects what we now know to be our limbic system; how when the limbic system is impacted, our ability to regulate our emotions is undermined; and why we can’t “just get over it” when we have been impacted by the repeated mobilization of our own fear/stress response.

Science can now illuminate why approaches like psychodrama, 12-step programs, group therapy, journaling, bodywork, yoga, exercise, and massage work; why one-to-one therapy can help us learn a new style of attachment; why changing the way we live and the nature of our relationships can change the way we think and feel, and vice versa; and why quick fixes don’t work but why a new design for living does.

Near the end of the flood, weather forecasters began tallying up just how much rain had fallen in the Dayton area alone. One estimate making the rounds shortly afterward was that during the four days it rained on Dayton, the amount of water dumping over the city and passing through the streets equaled the amount of water that flows over Niagara Falls in a four-day period.

If you’re motivated by praise, you’re going to be defeated in criticism.” That goes along with the quote by Warren Wiersbe, a well-known preacher and Christian writer, who said, “If praise humbles us, then criticism will build us up. But if praise inflates us, then criticism will crush us; and both responses lead to our defeat.” Fighting that and finding the balance of being humbled by praise and not motivated by it is a daily process.

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he went with me to The Dayton Company and I bought a storm coat with a fur collar and earmuffs and gloves, $70, all deductible, business. I would not of needed them if I was not in Minneapolis and would not of been in Minneapolis except on business.

Ira Progoff. At this retreat, held in Dayton, Ohio, Progoff guided us as we wrote privately for several days on some very human but ordinary questions. I remember first dialoguing with my own body, dialoguing with roads not taken, dialoguing with concrete events and persons, dialoguing with my own past decisions, on and on. I

Okay, okay.” Dayton steps back. “You’re jealous. But over me or Rosalina?” “No, I—” I stop and turn around, my face on fire. Am I jealous? Is that what this feeling is? Or is it something else? It wasn’t that it killed me to see Dayton and Rosalina together.

Tell me you need me,” he growls. “I need you,” I say. “Tell me you won’t leave me.” “Never,” I swear, an oath sworn with our bodies. Dayton gives a mighty roar, pumping me with an intensity I’ve never felt. My

I imagine she’s watching us right now, the way she had earlier. That I’m staring at her as I force Dayton’s enormous length deeper and deeper. What if she shared our bed? What if while I sucked Dayton, she sucked me? I have to shove my pants off and pump my cock from the thought. Imagining her perfect lips around my shaft, her sweet gaze as she swallows my seed.

That him? That the one who hurt our Dayton?” “Yeah, Mama. That’s him.

Confrontation reduces the effects of inhibition,” reversing the detrimental physiological problems that result from inhibition. When we make a lifestyle of openly confronting painful feelings and we “resolve the trauma, there will be a lowering of the overall stress on the body.” Confrontation “forces a rethinking of events. Confronting a trauma helps people understand and, ultimately, assimilate the event.