Dem Days Quotes

Rain always seems to me like a thousand little kisses from Heaven. - Regen kommen mir doch immer vor wie tausend kleine Küsschen aus dem Himmel.

Jeder Tag bedeutet vierundzwanzig neue Stunden. Jeder Tag bedeutet, dass alles möglich ist. Man lebt den Moment oder man stirbt darin, aber man lebt sein Leben einen Tag nach dem anderen. [...] Und man versucht immer, auf die Sonnenseite zu gelangen. Ins Licht. (Day)

Wenn ich den Eindruck hätte, dass in dem, was Sie da sagen, auch nur ein Körnchen Vernunft steckt, würde ich mir vielleicht die Mühe machen, mich auf eine solche Diskussion einzulassen. Aber wie die Dinge liegen, werde ich einfach an etwas anderes denken, während Sie weiter vor sich hin plappern.

There dwells a life in every star; With brother spheres it rolls afar Its self-elected, radiant way. Still throb within the great earth-ball The forces which conduct us all From day to night, from night to day. - - - GER: Das Leben wohnt in jedem Sterne: Er wandelt mit den andern gerne Die selbsterwählte reine Bahn; Im innern Erdenball pulsieren Die Kräfte, die zur Nacht uns führen Und wieder zu dem Tag heran. Zahme Xenien VI.

Nie zuvor hatte ich so tiefschwarzes Haar gesehen. Dicht und glänzend reichte es ihm bis zum Kragen - eine sexy Länge, die dem erfolgreichen Geschäftsmann das Aussehen eines "Bad Boy" verlieh, wie Schlagsahne auf einem Schokobecher.

If you want to see her, you can do it here, can’t you? I’ve no objection.’ ‘I fear you can have no romantic leanings,’ said Shield, before Miss Thane could speak. ‘A star-lit sky, the balmy night breezes–’ ‘But this is February! The breeze isn’t balmy at all – in fact, there’s been a demmed north wind blowing all day,’ pointed out Sir Hugh. ‘To persons deep in love,’ said Sir Tristram soulfully, ‘any breeze is balmy.’ ‘Hateful wretch!’ said Miss Thane, with deep feeling, ‘Pay no heed to him, Hugh! Of course, I did not go to meet him!’ Sir Tristram appeared to be overcome. ‘You play fast and loose with me,’ he said reproachfully. ‘You have dashed my hopes to the ground, shattered my self-esteem–’ ‘If you say another word, I’ll box your ears!’ threatened Miss Thane.

One night, around the campfire after a dinner of bully-beef stew, someone opened an extra bottle of rum. ‘As it grew darker, the men began to sing, at first slightly self-conscious and shy, but picking up confidence as the song spread.’ Their songs were not the martial chants of warriors, but the schmaltzy romantic popular tunes of the time: ‘I’ll Never Smile Again’, ‘My Melancholy Baby’, ‘I’m Dancing with Tears in My Eyes’. The bigger and burlier the singer, Pleydell noted, the more passionate and heartfelt the singing. Now the French contingent struck up, with a warbling rendition of ‘Madeleine’, the bittersweet song of a man whose lilacs for his lover have been left to wilt in the rain. Then it was the turn of the German prisoners who, after some debate, belted out ‘Lili Marleen’, the unofficial anthem of the Afrika Korps, complete with harmonies: ‘Vor der Kaserne / Vor dem grossen Tor / Stand eine Laterne / Und steht sie noch davor …’ (Usually rendered in English as: Underneath the lantern, by the barrack gate, darling I remember, how you used to wait.) As the last verse died away, the audience broke into loud whistles and applause. To his own astonishment, Pleydell was profoundly moved. ‘There was something special about that night,’ he wrote years later. ‘We had formed a small solitary island of voices; voices which faded and were caught up in the wilderness. A little cluster of men singing in the desert. An expression of feeling that defied the vastness of its surroundings … a strange body of men thrown together for a few days by the fortunes of war.’ The doctor from Lewisham had come in search of authenticity, and he had found it deep in the desert, among hard soldiers singing sentimental songs to imaginary sweethearts in three languages.

The next day, November 12, Veterans’ Day was observed in the United States, but Trump opted against paying his respects at Arlington National Cemetery, a tradition for presidents—something he later acknowledged he should have done. Instead, Trump spent the holiday inside the White House sulking about the poor media coverage of his Paris trip and tweeting about “the prospect of Presidential Harassment by the Dems” once they take control of the House in January.

This passenger was wondering why he had stolen a big grey suitcase on four wheels. Was it because he could and because the owner was a lout, or because the suitcase might contain a pair of shoes and even a hat? Or was it because the old man didn’t have anything to lose? Allan really couldn’t say why he did it. When life has gone into overtime it’s easy to take liberties, he thought, and he made himself comfortable in the seat. So far, Allan was satisfied with the way the day had developed. Then he closed his eyes for his afternoon nap.

Warum nicht zum Tode verurteilt? Ich erinnere mich an ein Buch, in dem ich die eine zutreffende Stelle las: „Die Menschen sind alle zum Tode verurteilt, nur mit unbestimmten Fristen!“ Inwiefern hat sich also meine Lage geändert? Seit der Stunde, in der mein Urteil verkündet wurde, sind schon manche gestorben, obwohl sie auf ein langes Leben hofften! Viele sind mir vorausgegangen, die jung, frei und gesund darauf rechneten, sie würden am bestimmten Tage meinen Kopf auf dem Grèveplatz fallen sehen. Viele, heute freudig atmend, werden mir noch im Tode vorangehn!

Progress And again my inmost life rushes louder, as if it moved now between steeper banks. Objects become ever more related to me, and all pictures ever more perused. I feel myself more trusting in the nameless: with my senses, as with birds, I reach into the windy heavens from the oak, and into the small ponds' broken-off day my feeling sinks, as if it stood on fishes. (Fortschritt Und wieder rauscht mein tiefes Leben lauter, als ob es jetzt in breitern Ufern ginge. Immer verwandter werden mir die Dinge und alle Bilder immer angeschauter. Dem Namenlosen fühl ich mich vertrauter: Mit meinen Sinnen, wie mit Vögeln, reiche ich in die windigen Himmel aus der Eiche, und in den abgebrochnen Tag der Teiche sinkt, wie auf Fischen stehend, mein Gefühl.)

Fine people on both sides? I was disgusted. Here was the same man I’d gone on television to defend when I believed it was appropriate. While I hadn’t been a supporter at the start of his campaign, he’d eventually convinced me he could be an effective president. Trump had proved to be a disrupter of the status quo during the primary and general election. Especially when he began to talk about issues of concern to black Americans. Dems have taken your votes for granted! Black unemployment is the highest it’s ever been! Neighborhoods in Chicago are unsafe! All things I completely agreed with. But now he was saying, 'I’m going to change all that!' He mentioned it at every rally, even though he was getting shut down by the leaders of the African American community. And what amazed me most was that he was saying these things to white people and definitely not winning any points there either. I’d defended Trump on more than one occasion and truly believed he could make a tangible difference in the black community. (And still do.) I’d lost relationships with family members, friends, and women I had romantic interest in, all because I thought advocating for some of his positions had a higher purpose. But now the president of the United States had just given a group whose sole purpose and history have been based on hate and the elimination of blacks and Jews moral equivalence with the genuine counterprotesters. My grandfather was born and raised in Helena, Arkansas, where the KKK sought to kill him and other family members. You can imagine this issue was very personal to me. In Chicago, the day before Trump’s press conference, my grandfather and I had had a long conversation about Charlottesville, and his words to me were fresh in my mind. So, yeah, I was hurt. Angry. Frustrated. Sad.

[J.Ivy:] We are all here for a reason on a particular path You don't need a curriculum to know that you are part of the math Cats think I'm delirious, but I'm so damn serious That's why I expose my soul to the globe, the world I'm trying to make it better for these little boys and girls I'm not just another individual, my spirit is a part of this That's why I get spiritual, but I get my hymns from Him So it's not me, it's He that's lyrical I'm not a miracle, I'm a heaven-sent instrument My rhythmatic regimen navigates melodic notes for your soul and your mental That's why I'm instrumental Vibrations is what I'm into Yeah, I need my loot by rent day But that is not what gives me the heart of Kunte Kinte I'm tryina give us "us free" like Cinque I can't stop, that's why I'm hot Determination, dedication, motivation I'm talking to you, my many inspirations When I say I can't, let you or self down If I were of the highest cliff, on the highest riff And you slipped off the side and clinched on to your life in my grip I would never, ever let you down And when these words are found Let it been known that God's penmanship has been signed with a language called love That's why my breath is felt by the deaf And why my words are heard and confined to the ears of the blind I, too, dream in color and in rhyme So I guess I'm one of a kind in a full house Cuz whenever I open my heart, my soul, or my mouth A touch of God reigns out [Chorus] [Jay-Z (Kanye West)] Who else you know been hot this long, (Oh Ya, you know we ain't finished) Started from nothing but he got this strong, (The ROC is in the building) Built the ROC from a pebble, pedalled rock before I met you, Pedalled bikes, got my nephews pedal bikes because they special, Let you tell that man I'm falling, Well somebody must've caught him, Cause every fourth quarter, I like to Mike Jordan 'em, Number one albums, what I got like four of dem, More of dem on the way, The Eight Wonder on the way, Clear the way, I'm here to stay, Y'all can save the chitter chat, this and that, this and Jay, Dissin' Jay 'ill get you mased, When I start spitting them lyrics, niggas get very religious, Six Hail Maries, please Father forgive us, Young, the Archbishop, the Pope John Paul of y'all niggas, The way y'all all follow Jigga, Hov's a living legend and I tell you why, Everybody wanna be Hov and Hov still alive.

Then one evening he reached the last chapter, and then the last page, the last verse. And there it was! That unforgivable and unfathomable misprint that had caused the owner of the books to order them to be pulped. Now Bosse handed a copy to each of them sitting round the table, and they thumbed through to the very last verse, and one by one burst out laughing. Bosse was happy enough to find the misprint. He had no interest in finding out how it got there. He had satisfied his curiosity, and in the process had read his first book since his schooldays, and even got a bit religious while he was at it. Not that Bosse allowed God to have any opinion about Bellringer Farm’s business enterprise, nor did he allow the Lord to be present when he filed his tax return, but – in other respects – Bosse now placed his life in the hands of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. And surely none of them would worry about the fact that he set up his stall at markets on Saturdays and sold bibles with a tiny misprint in them? (‘Only ninety-nine crowns each! Jesus! What a bargain!’) But if Bosse had cared, and if, against all odds, he had managed to get to the bottom of it, then after what he had told his friends, he would have continued: A typesetter in a Rotterdam suburb had been through a personal crisis. Several years earlier, he had been recruited by Jehovah’s Witnesses but they had thrown him out when he discovered, and questioned rather too loudly, the fact that the congregation had predicted the return of Jesus on no less than fourteen occasions between 1799 and 1980 – and sensationally managed to get it wrong all fourteen times. Upon which, the typesetter had joined the Pentecostal Church; he liked their teachings about the Last Judgment, he could embrace the idea of God’s final victory over evil, the return of Jesus (without their actually naming a date) and how most of the people from the typesetter’s childhood including his own father, would burn in hell. But this new congregation sent him packing too. A whole month’s collections had gone astray while in the care of the typesetter. He had sworn by all that was holy that the disappearance had nothing to do with him. Besides, shouldn’t Christians forgive? And what choice did he have when his car broke down and he needed a new one to keep his job? As bitter as bile, the typesetter started the layout for that day’s jobs, which ironically happened to consist of printing two thousand bibles! And besides, it was an order from Sweden where as far as the typesetter knew, his father still lived after having abandoned his family when the typesetter was six years old. With tears in his eyes, the typesetter set the text of chapter upon chapter. When he came to the very last chapter – the Book of Revelation – he just lost it. How could Jesus ever want to come back to Earth? Here where Evil had once and for all conquered Good, so what was the point of anything? And the Bible… It was just a joke! So it came about that the typesetter with the shattered nerves made a little addition to the very last verse in the very last chapter in the Swedish bible that was just about to be printed. The typesetter didn’t remember much of his father’s tongue, but he could at least recall a nursery rhyme that was well suited in the context. Thus the bible’s last two verses plus the typesetter’s extra verse were printed as: 20. He who testifies to these things says, Surely I am coming quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus!21. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.22. And they all lived happily ever after.

I didn’t have no sure ’nough weddin’. Me and Julie just jumped over de broom in front of Marster and us was married. Dat was all dere was to it. Dat was de way most of de slave folks got married dem days. Us knowed better dan to ask de gal when us wanted to get married. Us just told our Marster and he done de askin’. Den, if it was all right with de gal, Marster called all de

Aren’t I ever going to do anything but ask questions, God? Will I ever get answers?” Slowly, words her mama had said many times floated gently into her mind. Askin’ questions keeps you comin’ to God, Rose girl. You can rest sure he done got all the answers. You can also rest sure he ain’t gonna tell you till you need to know. He don’t mind the askin’ though. As long as we’re askin’ that means there be somethin’ in us that still believes he gonna tell us one day. And he will, Rose girl. When the time be right, he gonna answer all dem questions…If we done knew all the answers, there wouldn’t be no need to trust God. Wouldn’t be no need to get to know him. And that, Rose girl would be the tragedy. Knowin’ all the answers without knowing God... Why, knowin’ ‘em that way wouldn’t mean nothin’!

Eine Frau sitzt an einem Schreibtisch und schreibt ihren Lebenslauf. Der Schreibtisch steht in Moskau. Es ist das dritte Mal in ihren Leben, dass sie einem Lebenslauf schreiben muss, und es kann sein, dass dieser deschriebene Lebenslauf den Lauf ihres wirklichen Lebens beendet, dass dieses Schriftstück, wenn man so will, sich in eine Waffe verwandelt, die sie sich selbst schreibt. Es kann auch sein, dass das Schriftstück aufbewahrt wird, and dass sie von dem Moment an, in dem sie es abgegeben hat, dagegen anleben muss, oder sich dessen würdig erweisen, oder die dunkelsten Vermutungen, die sich daraus ergeben, bestätigen. Im letzteren Falle wären diese Buchstaben ebenfalls, nur mit kleinerer oder größerer Verspätung, so etwas wie eine verschleppte Krankheit, an der sie irgendwann doch zugrundegehen muss. Hat ihr Mann nicht immer gesagt, auf dem Theater hängt niemals ein Gewehr an der Wand, mit dem nicht auch igendwann einer schießt? Sie denkt an die »Wildente« von Ibsen, und wie sie geweint hat, als der Schuss endlich fiel. Vielleicht aber gelingt es ihr, und deshalb sitzt sie ja überhaupt nur da, darauf hofft sie, und deshalb nur sucht sie so lange nach den richtigen Worten, vielleicht gelingt es ihr, sich mit dem Schreiben eine Rettung zu schreiben, und den Lauf ihres Lebens, durch ein paar Buchstaben mehr oder weniger, zu verlängern oder wenigstens zu erleichtern, auf nichts anderes kann sie hoffen, als darauf, sich durchs Schreiben ins Leben zurückzuschreiben. Aber was sind die richtigen Worte? Käme sie mit einer Wahrheit weiter als mit einer Lüge? Und welche der vielen möglichen Wahrheiten oder Lügen soll sie dann nehmen? Wenn sie doch nicht weiß, wer lesen wird, was sie schreibt. Eines nur nimmt sie nicht an, nämlich dass diese Schriftstück nichts weiter als ein beschriebenes Blatt Papier sein wird, abgeheftet, vergessen. Das ist in einem Land, in dem jedes Kind und jede Aufwaschfrau und jeder Soldat Gedichte von Lermontow und Puschkin auswendig hersagen kann, nicht sehr wahrscheinlich.

The big theatre was built in 1891. Sie gab dem besten Student einen Preis.

Peter Drucker, the inventor of Management by Objectives (MBO), Eliahu Goldrat, the creator of the Theory of Constraints (TOC) and Edward Demming, the man who gave the world Total Quality Management (TQM).

I’m sorry,” I said. “ ‘Dem Genesis days’?” “Yeah . . . cuz God woulda BEEN HAD . . . struck yo ass down already by now.” In unison, we fell out of our chairs laughing, defying anyone to identify exactly who here is the “service provider” and who is the “service recipient.” It’s mutual.

Die Sprache war jene abgezweckte, die man aus jeder dem Tourismus verpflichteten Großstadt kennt: allerorts jenes beharrliche "Your are welcome!" and "Have a nice day!". Eine Freundlichkeit, die keine mehr war.

Step by Step… Can you write out your ideal business step by step Here is a business I am setting up for a client. She wants to shipping start her own shipping company… One she will need a US partner to collect and transfer packages to her in Jamaica. She will also need one in China. I have two contacts. One has a warehouse in Florida The other has two in China. Chinese connect makes goods available within 3 weeks, she has to tell her customers four. The US connect makes it within 3-5 days. She has to tell them within a week… Next she will need a website where her customers can login and track their packages. This will come with individual dashboards. She will need an interface and warehouse management software and logistics APIs. She will also need an automated email set up (journey) to send emails to her customers without her or her agents needing to do that. Without this Saas she would have to hire someone to reply to messages and emails about , someone to call and track, use usps and FedEx tracking numbers to track and reply back to customers. She also needs a beta ApI to allow her warehouse guy to update the CRM with information about her customers packages… Key nodes such as - Intransit to destinations Held at customs Clearance In transit to store Pick up available etc… These will come in as email notifications Fully automated. Everything will be connected using Webhooks… entire system. Saas she might need to use a combination of GOhighlevel, Workiz and To run this as a System as as Service. Each platform can work together using webhooks. Gohighlevel as a Saas is $500 a month Workiz is $200 dollars She can use Odoo which is open source alternative as a CRM And Clickup as Management. This is how a conversational business plan looks. You can see it. You can research it. You can confirm that it’s plausible. It doesn’t sound like pipedreams. It sounds workable to credit companies /banks and investors. It sounds doable to a BDO Client. I also sound as if I know what I am doing. Not a lot of technical language. A confused prospective business investor or banker don’t want to use a dictionary to figure out everything… They want to see the vision as clear as day. You basically need to do to them what I did to you when you joined my programme. It must sound plausible. All businesses is a game of wit. Every deal that is signed benefits both party. Whether initially or in the long term. Those are the sub-tenets of business. Every board meeting or meeting with regulatory boards, banks, credit facilities, municipalities is a game of convincing people to see your thing through… Everyone does Algorithm is simple. People want you to solve their problems with speed and efficiency. Speed is very important and automation. Progress, business and production are tied to ego… that’s why people love seh oh dem start a business or dem have dem online business and nah sell one rass thing. Cause a lot of people think being successful and looking successful are one and the same thing until they meet someone like me or people who done the work… Don’t rush it… you are young and you have time. There are infact certain little nuances Weh yuh only ago learn through experience. Experience and reflection. One of the drawbacks of wanting to run your business by yourself with you and your family members is that you guys will have to be reliant on yourself for feedback which is not alw

In Athens at the time of Cicero — who expresses his surprise at the fact — the men and youths were by far superior in beauty to the women: but what hard work and exertions the male sex had for centuries imposed upon itself in the service of beauty! We must not be mistaken in regard to the method employed here: the mere discipline of feelings and thoughts is little better than nil (—it is in this that the great error of German culture, which is quite illusory, lies): the body must be persuaded first. The strict maintenance of a distinguished and tasteful demeanour, the obligation of frequenting only those who do not “let themselves go,” is amply sufficient to render one distinguished and tasteful: in two or three generations everything has already taken deep root. The fate of a people and of humanity is decided according to whether they begin culture at the right place — not at the “soul” (as the fatal superstition of the priests and half-priests would have it): the right place is the body, demeanour, diet, physiology — the rest follows as the night the day .... That is why the Greeks remain the first event in culture — they knew and they did what was needful.

Dere been some queer things white folks can't understand. Dere am folkses can see de spirits, but I can't. My mammy larned me a lots of doctorin', what she larnt from old folkses from Africy, and some de Indians larnt her. If you has rheumatism, jes' take white sassafras root and bile it and drink de tea. You makes lin'ment by bilin' mullein flowers and poke roots and alum and salt. Put red pepper in you shoes and keep de chills off, or string briars round de neck. Make red or black snakeroot tea to cure fever and malaria, but git de roots in de spring when de sap am high. "When chillen teethin' put rattlesnake rattles round de neck, and alligator teeth am good, too. Show de new moon money and you'll have money all month. Throw her five kisses and show her money and make five wishes and you'll git dem. Eat black-eyed peas on New Year and have luck all dat year: "'Dose black-eyed peas is lucky, When et on New Year's Day; You'll allus have sweet 'taters And possum come you way.' "When anybody git cut I allus burns

Lord.” Trustin’ was de only hope of de poor black critters in dem days. Us just prayed for strength to endure it to de end. We didn’t ’spect nothin’ but to stay in bondage till we died. I

Bo på ett asplöv — På ett asplöv kan ingen bo i trygghet. Ändå bor där små kryp som ej vet att deras land är ett asplöv. För dem är det en hemort, ett hemland i en värld, asplövsvärlden.

Askin’ questions keeps you comin’ to God, Rose girl. You can rest sure he done got all the answers. You can also rest sure he ain’t gonna tell you till you need to know. He don’t mind the askin’ though. As long as we’re askin’ that means there be somethin’ in us that still believes he gonna tell us one day. And he will, Rose girl. When the time be right, he gonna answer all dem questions…If we done knew all the answers, there wouldn’t be no need to trust God. Wouldn’t be no need to get to know him. And that, Rose girl would be the tragedy. Knowin’ all the answers without knowing God... Why, knowin’ ‘em that way wouldn’t mean nothin’!

Ihr seht: Mit gewissen Feiertagen verhält es sich wie mit Diskussionen in den Kommentaren der Facebook-Seiten von Politikern - man kann einfach nicht gewinnen. Bin ich an Silvester und Co. live dabei, habe ich im Nachhinein ohne Zweifel entweder enttäuschte Erwartungen, Fremdscham für meine Mitmenschen oder einen Filmriss, was mir eigentlich wie die beste Option vorkommt. Entschließe ich mich aber dazu, an dem ganzen Rummel nicht teilzunehmen, und ziehe much aus der Öffentlichkeit zurück wie Doris Day in den früen 90ern, habe ich wiederum das Gefühl, etwas zu verpassen.

bewildered like. I had alluz been skeered o