Demo Quotes

You're passable at demo. You're excellent at hostage.

When a group of young females had asked her what one should name her horse, she'd answered, "I like the sound of Fellatio." When Rydstrom had confronted Sabine about it, she'd said, "Do you know how priceless it was to hear that demoness sigh, 'I love my Fellatio'? Even gold can't buy moments like that!

We completely need him. Who else comes up with the plans?" "Demos?" "Yes, but he isn't hot, Nate. We talked about is.

Can we save the live demo for later, please? Bean Sidhe in angst, here.

I'm still missing you. Well I guess that I have, I guess that I have never really had you.

I tried to make my mind go blank. La la la la la la la la. 'You can't keep that up forever,' Suki said, with a touch of menace. La la la la la la la. 'Oh, Demos, make her stop.

Da igual las vueltas que demos al mundo corriendo detrás del sol para que no se ponga nunca, Silvia. Creceremos, como los demás. No somos inmunes al tiempo.

A demoness is what men call a goddess they cannot control.

Rise up, wise up, say it loud. Soul, I will not lie to you. I'm all alone. I'm still missing you, missing you, missing you.

Demoness: "The males are defending the females and children... They will save us" Sabine: "Thanks. I think I just vomited a little in my mouth.

My mission, which I chose to accept, is to infiltrate the enemy. Jack and Alex are the enemy. I pause, wondering how Demos defines infiltration. 'Not that way', Alicia answers.

El amor y la fe van de la mano. No se puede tener uno sin la otra. Y como todos sabemos, no siempre es seguro dar ese paso. A veces se juzga equivocadamente, y se acaba mordiendo el polvo. Pero a menos que demos ese paso, nunca sabremos qué hay del otro lado. Hay que buscar agallas para hacerlo.

There they are. Lieutenant Jack Loveday and Lieutenant Alex Wakeman. I’ve only seen their photos so far and the pictures that are in Demos’s head, but the truth is Demos did not do them justice. In fact, Demos’s head needs a tune up or a reboot or an entirely new operating system altogether.

A demoness is helpless when held by her hair.

See how the questions of career choices and demo CDs and relocating diminish in the light of God's Kingdom? Sail by the stars, not the flotsam.

It could have been a month or, It could have been a year, But I, I gave up long before, Long before you cared.

Demos are mock battles, never the real thing. Everybody knows where they're going to happen, and when and why. Nobody gets seriously hurt. Well, not unless they ask for it. (ch. 4)

This is me before I come undone. This is me before I fall apart. I've been tired for days and days. I've been tired for days and days.

Éramos os eleitos do sol E nem demos conta Fomos os eleitos da mais alta estrela E não soubemos responder à sua dádiva Angústia de impotência A água amava-nos A terra amava-nos As selvas eram nossas O êxtase era o nosso próprio espaço O teu olhar era o universo frente a frente A tua beleza era o som do amanhecer A primavera amada pelas árvores Agora somos uma tristeza contagiosa Uma morte antes do tempo A alma que não sabe em que lugar se encontra O Inverno nos ossos sem qualquer relâmpago E tudo isto porque não soubeste o que é a eternidade Nem compreendeste a alma da minha alma no seu barco de trevas No seu trono de águia ferida de infinito

Ningún hombre sabe, hasta que llega el momento, qué profundidades hay en su interior. Para algunos hombres no llega nunca; dejémoslos descansar y demos gracias. Para mí, tú la has traído, tú la has forzado, y el fondo de ese mar embravecido se ha alzado desde entonces... Te amo. Lo que quieren decir otros hombres cuando usan esa expresión no lo sé; lo que quiero decir yo es que estoy bajo la influencia de una atracción terrible, que he resistido en vano y que me domina. Puedes arrastrarme al fuego, puedes arrastrarme a la horca, puedes arrastrarme a la muerte, puedes arrastrarme a todo aquello que siempre he evitado, puedes arrastrarme a cualquier peligro y cualquier desgracia. A eso y a la confusión de mis pensamientos, que es tal que no valgo para nada, es a lo que me refiero cuando digo que eres mi ruina.

Podría ser que solo cuando ya es demasiado tarde para escapar nos demos cuenta de que siempre hemos sido libres.

Well, there was a reason it always seemed to work, Shaunak said. The image on the computer screen showing the blood flowing through the cartridge and settling into the little wells was real. But you never knew whether you were going to get a result or not. So they’d recorded a result from one of the times it worked. It was that recorded result that was displayed at the end of each demo.

Tavi spent an eternity in misery, longing for death to bring sweet release from the unrelenting torment. The others gathered at the side of his bunk on the ship, keeping a deathwatch over him. "I don't see what all the drama is about," Demos said, his quiet voice filled with habitual disinterst. "He's seasick. It will pass."~Captain's Fury

The taste of a demoness ain't bad.

I’m good at demo.” “You’re passable at demo. You’re excellent at hostage.

Como se pode esperar que nos comportemos adequadamente, escolhamos as decisões correctas e demos as respostas certas, se nunca há tempo para ensaios e os dias se vão empurrando uns aos outros numa sucessão vertiginosa, sem um momento sequer para descanso da companhia?

„I bet she's hot,” Sykes said. „Most demonesses are total babes,” He and Remy bumped first. I shook my head. They really had one-track minds. „She's okay, if you like big boobs and girls who curse like sailors.” „Me like.. me like,” Sykes said, bobbing up and down. I glared at him. „Too bad. Next time we meet, I'm vanquishing her.” Izzy grinned. „That's the spirit.

Okay you found me out. Beyond without a doubt, your lie is safe with me. A friend, i'm sure you are. And on this day so far, I've fallen hundred see?

Don't be so cruel to me. Don't promise me anything. I've got everything that i need. I need love in a good way.

Demos tiempo al tiempo, pero lo que siempre nos olvidamos de preguntar es si quedará tiempo para dar.

Uno mismo puede encerrarse en un dolor terrible por culpa de otros seres humanos. Es incomprensible que estemos creados para dar amor y sólo demos odio.

Whether it's a cooking demo or a collaborative dinner, trying to impress people is a fool's errand.

Diz-se que o tempo cura tudo. Quem inventou o ditado esperava seguramente ser perdoado de muita coisa, e mesmo havendo séculos que a frase passa de boca em boca, nem por isso se tornou menos estúpida e falsa. O tempo é como um tempero. Um tempero perfeito que aprimora o sabor do que é bom e transforma o que é mau em algo do Demo. Só quem nunca odiou ou foi odiado não sabe como o tempo é uma salgadeira que leveda dias após dia.

We always started small, with some inspiration. We made demos. We mixed in feedback. We listened to guidance from smart colleagues. We blended in variations. We honed our vision. We followed the initial demo with another and then another. We improved our demos in incremental steps. We evolved our work by slowly converging on better versions of the vision. Round after round of creative selection moved us step by step from the spark of an idea to a finished product.

If you’ve got it to give, You’ve got to give it all. If you’ve got it to give, You've got to give it all. Oh give it all to me.

Hello? It's where I've been so goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. Hello? It's you and me so goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

What I don't know don't keep me hostage. It's your love that locks me up and I want you to know that I love the way you make my heart tear up.

Aquilo que de verdadeiramente significativo podemos dar a alguém é o que nunca demos a outra pessoa, porque nasceu e se inventou por obra do afecto. O gesto mais amoroso deixa de o ser se, mesmo bem sentido, representa a repetição de incontáveis gestos anteriores numa situação semelhante. O amor é a invenção de tudo, uma originalidade inesgotável. Fundamentalmente, uma inocência.

To accuse nations (not leaders or governments) is the hallmark of the demo-nationalist of the nineteenth or twentieth centuries; it leads to endless hatreds, feelings of revenge, misunderstandings, and frictions. It is the surest guarantee for perpetual mass wars.

As neoliberalism wages war on public goods and the very idea of a public, including citizenship beyond membership, it dramatically thins public life without killing politics. Struggles remain over power, hegemonic values, resources, and future trajectories. This persistence of politics amid the destruction of public life and especially educated public life, combined with the marketization of the political sphere, is part of what makes contemporary politics peculiarly unappealing and toxic— full of ranting and posturing, emptied of intellectual seriousness, pandering to an uneducated and manipulable electorate and a celebrity-and-scandal-hungry corporate media. Neoliberalism generates a condition of politics absent democratic institutions that would support a democratic public and all that such a public represents at its best: informed passion, respectful deliberation, aspirational sovereignty, sharp containment of powers that would overrule or undermine it.

Drop heavy,” Kaz shouted, and Wylan let loose with every rocket, flash bomb, and bit of demo he’d been able to fit into the boat. The sky above the Van Eck house exploded in an array of light, smoke, and sound as the guards dove for cover. Kaz put his arms to work, feeling the boat slide into the current as they passed into the glittering traffic of Geldcanal. “In and out without him ever knowing?” said Rotty.

The popular contemporary wisdom that a liberal arts education is outmoded is true only to the extent that social equality, liberty, and worldly development of mind and character are outmoded and have been displaced by another set of metrics: income streams, profitability, technological innovation.

A demoness Is what men call A goddess they cannot control. There is no shame In goddesses falling Into the Abyss Where they find new purpose As darkness. Praise the women who fly And fail to succumb to Night; Death sustains Inanna, Who is one and whole, Who sacrifices her life into the below To save her life in the Above Who is the sacrificed and the sacrificer, The demoness and the goddess Rule the heavens And the Cruel Kingdom As two, but One. As the enduring Above, So shall the Great Below.

Every culture has blasphemy laws. They are not always called that, but no society allows citizens to rail against the reigning deity. In our pluralistic times, these blasphemy laws are called “hate crimes” legislation, among other euphemisms, but they are really religious protections to keep the reigning god, demos, from being blasphemed.

- Dime, ¿de verdad crees que éste es el espectáculo más deslumbrante del mundo? -¿Eh? -No. Ni por asomo. Probablemente ni siquiera es el número cincuenta de la lista de los espectáculos más deslumbrantes del mundo. Tenemos un tercio de la capacidad del circo Ringling. Ya has descubierto que Marlena no pertenece a la realeza rumana. ¿Y Lucinda? De 400 kilos nada, 200 como mucho. ¿Y tú crees que a Frank Otto le tatuaron unos furiosos cazadores de cabezas de Borneo? No fastidies. Antes era un montador del Escuadrón Volador. Se pasó 9 años trabajándose la tinta. ¿Y sabes lo que hizo Tío Al cuando murió el hipopótamo? Cambio el agua por formol y siguió exhibiéndolo. Estuvimos dos semanas viajando con un hipopótamo en conserva. Todo es ilusión, Jacob, y no tienen nada de malo. Es lo que la gente quiere que le demos. Es lo que espera de nosotros.

The truth is that trust is a gift, it's something we all can lose So hold on, it's not where it goes, it's where it can lead you to.

Los amarillos son reflejos de uno, en ellos están parte de nuestras carencias y el conocerlos hace que demos un salto cualitativo en nuestra vida.

warriors—be they human, demoness, siren, changeling or any brave creature from the Lore—knew to pray for it as they died. Thus the Valkyrie were born.

Demos gracias al cielo de que valemos infinitamente más que nuestros antepasados. -Homero.

Las religiones, todas, por más vueltas que le demos, no tienen otra justificación para existir que no sea la muerte, la necesitan como pan para la boca.

No me gusta que demos imagen de gente que pierde, que no sabe en que juego se metió.

Fear mankind most when he fights with a consuming passion for what he perceives to be true." ~ Demo Cratia.

Madrid y este país serán un lugar mejor cuando nos demos cuenta de que la vida de un ropavejero o de una prostituta vale tanto como la del ministro de la reina.

KEY RESULTS (AS MEASURED BY . . .) Deliver five benchmarks. Develop a demo. Develop sales training materials for the field force. Call on three customers to prove the material works.

Your songs are good, Amanda. And I’m not just saying that. I stared at him in disbelief. I get given a lot of music, he continued. It’s like that on the road, you know, we get handed mountains of demo tapes every night. And they’re, you know, not always good. Your songs are good. I don’t know what your plans are. But I hope you keep going. I just wanted to say that.

I am completely an elitist in the cultural but emphatically not the social sense. I prefer the good to the bad, the articulate to the mumbling, the aesthetically developed to the merely primitive, and full to partial consciousness. I love the spectacle of skill, whether it's an expert gardener at work or a good carpenter chopping dovetails. I don't think stupid or ill-read people are as good to be with as wise and fully literate ones. I would rather watch a great tennis player than a mediocre one, unless the latter is a friend or a relative. Consequently, most of the human race doesn't matter much to me, outside the normal and necessary frame of courtesy and the obligation to respect human rights. I see no reason to squirm around apologizing for this. I am, after all, a cultural critic, and my main job is to distinguish the good from the second-rate, pretentious, sentimental, and boring stuff that saturates culture today, more (perhaps) than it ever has. I hate populist [shit], no matter how much the demos love it.

Heuristics also have a measurement or value associated with them—the duration for an animation or the red-green-blue values for an onscreen color, but there isn’t a similar “arrow of improvement” that always points the same way. Unlike evaluating algorithms, heuristics are harder to nail down. For instance, how quickly should a scrolling list glide to a stop after you’ve flicked it? We always made demos to evaluate the possibilities.

My concern with democracy is highly specific. It begins in observing the remarkable fact that, while democracy means a government accountable to the electorate, our rulers now make us accountable to them. Most Western governments hate me smoking, or eating the wrong kind of food, or hunting foxes, or drinking too much, and these are merely the surface disapprovals, the ones that provoke legislation or public campaigns. We also borrow too much money for our personal pleasures, and many of us are very bad parents. Ministers of state have been known to instruct us in elementary matters, such as the importance of reading stories to our children. Again, many of us have unsound views about people of other races, cultures, or religions, and the distribution of our friends does not always correspond, as governments think that it ought, to the cultural diversity of our society. We must face up to the grim fact that the rulers we elect are losing patience with us. No philosopher can contemplate this interesting situation without beginning to reflect on what it can mean. The gap between political realities and their public face is so great that the term “paradox” tends to crop up from sentence to sentence. Our rulers are theoretically “our” representatives, but they are busy turning us into the instruments of the projects they keep dreaming up. The business of governments, one might think, is to supply the framework of law within which we may pursue happiness on our own account. Instead, we are constantly being summoned to reform ourselves. Debt, intemperance, and incompetence in rearing our children are no doubt regrettable, but they are vices, and left alone, they will soon lead to the pain that corrects. Life is a better teacher of virtue than politicians, and most sensible governments in the past left moral faults to the churches. But democratic citizenship in the twenty-first century means receiving a stream of improving “messages” from politicians. Some may forgive these intrusions because they are so well intentioned. Who would defend prejudice, debt, or excessive drinking? The point, however, is that our rulers have no business telling us how to live. They are tiresome enough in their exercise of authority—they are intolerable when they mount the pulpit. Nor should we be in any doubt that nationalizing the moral life is the first step towards totalitarianism. We might perhaps be more tolerant of rulers turning preachers if they were moral giants. But what citizen looks at the government today thinking how wise and virtuous it is? Public respect for politicians has long been declining, even as the population at large has been seduced into demanding political solutions to social problems. To demand help from officials we rather despise argues for a notable lack of logic in the demos. The statesmen of eras past have been replaced by a set of barely competent social workers eager to take over the risks of our everyday life. The electorates of earlier times would have responded to politicians seeking to bribe us with such promises with derision. Today, the demos votes for them.

Nos últimos tempos, quando sinto os lábios da Clarisse a tocarem os meus, comprovo que não têm história, já não convocam o primeiro beijo que demos. Creio que, numa relação, o beijo terá sempre de manter a densidade do primeiro, a história de uma vida, todos os pores-do-sol, todas as palavras murmuradas no escuro, toda a certeza do amor. Mas já não é assim. Agora sabem às vacinas que tínhamos de dar à cadela (já morreu), às conversas como diretor da escola, á loiça por lavar, à lâmpada que falta mudar, às infiltrações no tecto, às reuniões de condóminos. Toco levemente os lábios dela e sabe-me à rotina, às finanças, ao barulho da máquina de lavar roupa. Beijamo-nos como quem faz a cama.

Public respect for politicians has long been declining, even as the population at large has been seduced into responding to each new problem by demanding that the government should act. That we should be constantly demanding that an institution we rather despise should solve large problems argues a notable lack of logic in the demos. The statesmen of times past have been replaced by a set of barely competent social workers eager to help 'ordinary people' solve daily problems in their lives. This strange aspiration is a very large change in public life. The electorates of earlier times would have responded with derision to politicians seeking power in order to solve our problems. Todays, the demos votes for them.

Theirs is a worldview in which anything and everything—government, politics, civic society, and law—can and should be disrupted. As Big Tech critic Jonathan Taplin once put it to me, “Demos—society itself—is often viewed as being ‘in the way.’ ”15

A pettos speckled with gold ajiggle with a fremitus from the heart touches me like Athena's hoolet mewing in uncertain dark. So much is nature, whereon we build our particulars fastidious and critical. Your every arrow O Eros has hit me, as the song goes. O girls, girls. This arrow is Timo's curls, this is Heliodora's shoes, this the smell of quinces that blows from Demo's door, flowers plaited into Dorothea's hair and ox-eyed Antikleia's smile that is music from the islands, summer's stars.

Education, the press, politics, religion—in a word, all the great forces in the world—are at present on the side of irrationality; they are in the hands of men who flatter King Demos in order to lead him astray. The remedy does not lie in anything heroically cataclysmic, but in the efforts of individuals towards a more sane and balanced view of our relations to our neighbours and to the world. It is to intelligence, increasingly widespread, that we must look for the solution of the ills from which our world is suffering.

It was Anubis who set your heart on the scales against the Feather of Truth, and if your crimes weighed it down at all, it was thrown to the crocodile-faced demoness Ammit like any other scrap of meat. Only the clean-hearted got to walk forever in the Field of Reeds.

—Quiero besarte, quiero follarte, y deseo que me toques con tal intensidad que duela físicamente. No voy a conseguir los dos primeros, así que solo sube a la parte trasera de mi moto. Rodéame con tus brazos y demos un paseo. Es todo lo que puedes darme, así que dámelo.

It has long been presumed that the diversity of constitutional forms makes for an optimal result. In reality, it creates a system of impediments that makes popular reform nearly impossible. As with Polybius and Cicero, so with Aristotle, and so with the framers of the United States Constitution in 1787 . . .—all have been mindful of the leveling threats of democratic forces and the need for a constitutional “mix” that allows only limited participation by the demos, with a dominant role allotted to an elite executive power. . . . Diluting democratic power with a preponderantly undemocratic mix does not create an admirable “balance” and “stability.” In actual practice, the diversity of form more often has been a subterfuge, allowing an appearance of popular participation in order to lend legitimacy to oligarchic dominance.

When our forebears asked - What is a man? - they did not expect a detailed examination of some Saturday morning shopper, Mr. John Q. Public, snatched at random from the crowded agora and forced under a microscope or onto a psychiatrist's couch. Nor did they want a statistical analysis of some cross-section of the demos for an answer. Of what good to sound learning is a man who looks like every man but in whom no man sees himself? The only use for such analyses, as our modern era shows, is in various forms of exploitation. Statistical man makes a useful abstraction for advertisers and propagandists.

Wie es im Zeitalter der Könige naiv gewesen wäre zu glauben, dass der erstgeborene Königssohn der zum Herrschen Geeignetste wäre, so ist es in unserer zeit naiv zu glauben, dass der demokratisch gewählte Machthaber der Geeignetste sein wird. Die Nachfolgeregelung ist kein Rezept für die Bestimmung des besten Machthabers, sie ist ein Rezept für die Legitimierung dieser oder jener Person und somit für die Vermeidung von Bürgerkriegen. Die Wählerschaft - der Demos - glaubt, es sei ihre Aufgabe, den Besten auszuwählen, doch in Wahrheit ist ihre Aufgabe viel schlichter: einen Mann zu salben [...], gleichgültig welchen.

Must the howling Demos devour everything gentle in the land, and reduce us all to the common level of the pot-house politician, and compel us to use his slang? Radicalism seemed to be now, just what it had been in the great French Revolution, a sort of mad-dog virus; every one who was inoculated with it, becoming rabid.

Sobre fondo negro habían pintado en blanco, con grandes letras: «Demos gracias al cielo de que valemos infinitamente más que nuestros antepasados. —Hornero». La firma era imponente. Tuve que reírme. Me encontraba muy bien allí; la inconsciencia absoluta, la descuidada felicidad de aquel ambiente me acariciaban el espíritu.

Democracy is a political form, a system of government. It has no social content, although it is frequently misused in that sense. It is wrong to say, “Mr. Green is very democratic; on his trips he sits down for lunch with his chauffeur.” He is, rather, a friend of simple people, and so is appropriately called demophile, not democratic. “Democracy” is a Greek word composed of demos (the people) and krátos (power in a strong, almost brutal sense). The milder form would be arché which implies leadership rather than rule. Hence “monarchy” is the fatherlike rule of a man in the interest of the common good, whereas “monocracy” is a one-man tyranny.

It’s not like I come in here every night. That would be lame. I just think about coming here every night. I think about Kat. This isn’t me. It’s not good. It’s not cool. But hey, I’ve filled three notebooks with lyrics that vary from shitty to decent and recorded a dozen demos of songs that are basically about having a non-stop boner, so there’s that.

I'm infamous for being infamous. I don’t think you’re so famous miss. I miss everything, When you’re away from me.

I'll get right on right about you, you've got trouble right about now, you've got trouble right about now.

Kami ada disini untuk terus beraksi.. Menuntut revolusi yang sedang mati suri.. Katanya reformasi.. Nyatanya dagang sapi.. Lawan, lawan segala korupsi.....

A cumplicidade que tínhamos fazia com que um universo só nosso fosse criado quando estávamos juntas, e ninguém mais tinha acesso a ele. Como acontece com as melhores histórias de amor, demos vida a um lugar que só nós duas conhecíamos: era um mundo inteiro apenas meu e dela, dentro do qual existíamos e nos amávamos. Ao lado de Tereza, a noção de que o amor era o mais forte elemento

Sabía que hasta el recuerdo del piano falseaba el plano en que veía las cosas de la música, porque el campo que se le abre al pianista no es un mezquino teclado de siete notas, sino un teclado inconmensurable, desconocido casi por completo, donde aquí y allá, separadas por espesas tinieblas inexploradas, han sido descubiertas algunos millones de teclas de ternura, de coraje, de pasión, de serenidad que le componen, tan distintas entre sí como un mundo de otro mundo, por unos cuantos grandes artistas que nos han hecho el favor, despertando en nosotros la equivalencia del tema que ellos descubrieron, de mostrarnos la gran riqueza, la gran variedad oculta, sin que nos demos cuenta, en esa noche enorme, impenetrada y descorazonadora de nuestra alma, que consideramos como el vacío y la nada.

Who’s your friend?”—the most intense three words I’d ever heard. Brenda directed her answer to Jerry. “She’s eighteen years old; her name is Mariah. You gotta listen to this!” Just as she went to hand Jerry my demo tape, Tommy’s hand swiftly cut her off mid-extension. He snatched the tape, got up, left the table, and left the party. It was bizarre and bewildering. I was like, What kinda shit is that?

The Coming is here, and it is our duty to protect against the evils that will follow. I am not sure what we face, but there is not another bunch I would want to go into battle with than this one.” “Nor is there a leader I would rather follow than you,” Jaran said as he straightened. “I will fight until my last breath for all that is good.” “As will I,” Lei said. “And I,” Kale followed. Demos smirked. “Such mush.

If Gissing is less compassionately observant than Mrs Gaskell, less overtly polemical than Kingsley, still The Nether World and Demos would be sympathetically endorsed by either of them, or by their typical readers. Yet Gissing does introduce an important new element, and one that remains significant. He has often been called ‘the spokesman of despair,’ and this is true in both meanings of the phrase. Like Kingsley and Mrs Gaskell, he writes to describe the true conditions of the poor, and to protest against those brute forces of society which fill with wreck the abysses of the nether world. Yet he is also the spokesman of another kind of despair: the despair born of social and political disillusion. In this he is a figure exactly like Orwell in our own day, and for much the same reason. Whether one calls this honesty or not will depend on experience.

In America, the majority raises formidable barriers around the liberty of opinion; within these barriers, an author may write what he pleases, but woe to him if he goes beyond them. Not that he is in danger of an auto-da-fe, but he is exposed to continued obloquy and persecution. His political career is closed forever since he has offended the only authority that is able to open it. Every sort of compensation, even that of celebrity, is refused to him. Before making public his opinions he thought he had sympathizers; now it seems to him that he has none any more since he revealed himself to everyone; then those who blame him criticize him loudly and those who think as he does keep quiet and move away without courage. He yields at length, over-come by the daily effort which he has to make, and subsides into silence, as if he felt remorse for speaking the truth.

the political significance of deregulation, of withdrawing public power and, in effect, renouncing it as an instrument for dealing with the political, social, and human consequences of a market economy. Deregulation changes the character of domestic politics. In effect, it declares that in a democracy the demos is to be denied the use of state power. It weakens the unaffluent constituencies that have a vital stake in preserving and expanding government social programs.

He's rigged a tiny cassette player with a small set of foam earphones to listen to demo tapes and rough mixes. Occasionally he'll hand the device to Mindy, wanting her opinion, and each time, the experience of music pouring directly against her eardrums - hers alone - is a shock that makes her eyes well up; the privacy of it, the way it transforms her surroundings into a golden montage, as if she were looking back on this lark in Africa with Lou from some distant future.

Expanding further on his own observations of Prince’s writing style(s) during the course of the album’s recording, fellow Paisley Park engineer Eddie Miller, who engineered the recording of ‘Electric Chair’ among other Prince recordings during the Batman era, recalled that “he would write all sorts of ways. I have to admit that I listened to some of his cassette demos that he would sometimes bring into the studio to reference (as I remember, he would hold the cassette player up to his ear, so you couldn’t really hear it.). They were fascinating. His cassette demo technique was extremely crude but ingenious—it’s like something you’d do if you had no access to any equipment. He’d use two cheap cassette recorders. If he wanted to hear drums, he’d record a human beat box rhythm for the length of the song—and most likely, he’d have the form of the song in his head while he was recording this. By the way, it was the same in the studio when he’d do his one man band approach to recording a song. He’d know the song in his head, and start out recording the drums for the song (it would essentially become the ‘click track’—the way a click track should be). Back to the cassette demo—he’d then play his beat box groove over the speaker on the cassette recorder and sing the bass line while recording all this onto the second cassette machine. He’d build up a rhythm track this way, and then add vocals. And there’s your demo.

An antidemocratic party tries to prevent the formation of an active, participatory demos—it distrusts popular demonstrations—and is deeply antiegalitarian. An illiberal party, it considers “rules” less as restraints than as annoyances to be circumvented. It exploits the vulnerabilities of a two-party system with the aim of reshaping it into a more or less permanent undemocratic and illiberal system. The Republican Party is not, as advertised, conservative but radically oligarchical.

RIM shipped PlayBooks to major retail clients, such as Best Buy, which had preserved premium display space for the new product. Unfortunately, RIM had neglected to create a demo program to showcase and explain its latest product. With no helpful presentation on the screen of the device, shoppers were left to rummage around PlayBook programs on their own. Countless PlayBooks were immobilized after customers armed the devices with passwords, which the sales staff couldn’t unlock. “This happened hundreds of times,” says McDowell.

Quebrar uma noz não é verdadeiramente uma arte, por isso ninguém ousará convocar um público e, para entretê-lo, começar a quebrar nozes diante dele. Mas se apesar disso ele o faz e sua intenção é bem-sucedida, então não se trata única e exclusivamente de quebrar nozes. Ou então se trata de quebrar nozes, mas se verifica que não demos atenção a esta arte porque a dominávamos completamente e que este novo quebrador de nozes mostra a verdadeira essência dela – momento em que poderia até ser útil ao efeito se ele fosse menos hábil em quebrar nozes do que a maioria de nós

Demographics 30 points based on manual Prospect review 0-8 points based on title Source and Offer Website leads source: +7 Thought leadership offer: -5 Behavioral Engagement: Visit any webpage or open any email: +1 Watch demos: +5 each Register for webinar: +5 Attend webinar: +5 Download thought leadership: +5 Download Marketo reviews: +12 More than 8 pages in one visit: +7 Visit website 2x in one week: +8 Search for “Marketo”: +15 Visit pricing pages: +5 Visit careers pages: -10 (I especially love this one!) No Activity in One Month: Score >30: -15 points Score 0 to 30: -5 points

In one conspicuous case, that of royalty, the State does already select the parents on purely political grounds; and in the peerage, though the heir to a dukedom is legally free to marry a dairymaid, yet the social pressure on him to confine his choice to politically and socially eligible mates is so overwhelming that he is really no more free to marry the dairymaid than George IV was to marry Mrs Fitzherbert; and such a marriage could only occur as a result of extraordinary strength of character on the part of the dairymaid acting upon extraordinary weakness on the part of the duke. Let those who think the whole conception of intelligent breeding absurd and scandalous ask themselves why George IV was not allowed to choose his own wife whilst any tinker could marry whom he pleased? Simply because it did not matter a rap politically whom the tinker married, whereas it mattered very much whom the king married. The way in which all considerations of the king’s personal rights, of claims of the heart, of the sanctity of the marriage oath, and of romantic morality crumpled up before this political need shews how negligible all these apparently irresistible prejudices are when they come into conflict with the demand for quality in our rulers. We learn the same lesson from the case of the soldier, whose marriage, when it is permitted at all, is despotically controlled with a view solely to military efficiency. Well, nowadays it is not the king that rules, but the tinker. Dynastic wars are no longer feared, dynastic alliances no longer valued. ... On the other hand a sense of the social importance of the tinker’s marriage has been steadily growing. We have made a public matter of his wife’s health in the month after her confinement. We have taken the minds of his children out of his hands and put them into those of our State schoolmaster. We shall presently make their bodily nourishment independent of him. ... King Demos must be bred like all other kings; and with Must there can be no arguing.

Just reason it out. What are the pros and cons with her?” “Reason! Always with your bloody reason. Do you know what I’m going to enjoy? When you meet your demoness and she shakes to tell your unflappable demeanor. I’m going to laugh when you turn enraged, horns flaring ramrod straight every time she saunters by.” “Noted. Now, begin with the pros.” “Verra well. She’s clever, she’s brave, and, by all the gods, she’s graced in form. And I’m no’ going to apologize for being a typical male—I do want the sexiest female I’ve ever laid eyes on to be mine. I’ll admit that I want her on my arm and in my bed. And I want to be smug over having her desire me, too.” “The cons . . .” “Right back to the witchery. Would you no’ be a tad unnerved if your female could unleash the force of an atomic bomb whenever she got nettled with you?” Rydstrom nodded in commiseration, then said, “Take away the fact that she’s a witch—” “I will be taking away that fact,” Bowe interrupted. “Practicing witchcraft is voluntary. I could see to it that she never—” Out of the blue, a bee stung him. “Damn it,” he muttered, slapping it away, then continued, “If I snatched her away from her coven and immersed her with the Lykae—” Another sting. “Son of a bitch!” When the odd breeze blew once more, Bowe narrowed his eyes. “The witch.” He gazed up at the sky and all around him. “Playing with me again! I’ll turn her over my knee for this.

Consider, too, the matter of display, the claims of “specialness” implicit in attack by witchcraft. Such claims were most vividly dramatized in full-blown “fits,” but, in a lesser measure, they may be imputed to all self-described victims: “The forces of evil have chosen me as their target. And you—the standers-by—must attend to me in my hour of affliction.” This

einige gitarren, ein klavier, mikrophone von der decke, kleine schaumstoffpyramiden an den wänden. ein studio in new york an der upper east side. es ist ein warmer septemberabend draußen über der stadt. bob dylan verbrachte ihn bis etwa 5 p.m. auf der veranda seines freundes bill clinton, wo die beiden marihuana rauchten und kreatives schlafen praktizierten. bob braucht diese rituale mit freunden, bevor er ins studio geht, seit so vielen jahren, nach so vielen platten. jetzt, pünktlich um 7:34 p.m., sitzt er alleine hier im studio und schaut auf das geöffnete klavier. ähnlich wie helmut schmidt in deutschland darf auch bob dylan an jedem ort hemmungslos rauchen, selbst wenn an der wand ein großes, rot leuchtendes warnschild mit der aufschrift „do never smoke“ angebracht ist. die rauchwolken der siebenten camel filter ziehen wie magisch in den innenraum des flügels, sie stauen sich dort, scheinen sich einzunisten. vor den augen dylans aber wird das klavier zum sarg. er sieht im rauch eine spiegelung seiner eigenen gewohnt gelockten haare, er selbst daran mit dem kopf anmontiert, im besten anzug plus krawatte, eingebettet in verplüschte seitenwände. er wollte doch erste demos für die neue platte aufnehmen, nicht sich selbst im sarg visualisieren. verstimmt dämpft er die zigarette auf seinem linken unterarm aus und legt den stummel zärtlich zu den anderen auf den boden. er ist müde… das gras wirkt wohl immer noch. wie in trance steht er nun auf, verfügt sich zum flügel und platziert sich vor den tasten. im bleiernen halbschlaf geht es jetzt los. (0201)

Me, I hated Suits. Loathed them. Because when you’re a rock star and make a crap ton of money, everyone wants a piece of the pie. A pie you baked. With ingredients you bought. None of the Suits had given a shit about me when I sat, day in and day out, outside King’s Cross tube station with Tania, my acoustic Tatay, and played, and begged, and shoved demos into people’s hands just to watch them slam-dunking them to the nearest bin. None of the Suits were there when I knocked on doors in the pouring rain, and pleaded in the bitter snow, and bargained, and argued, to get myself heard. They also weren’t there when I got booed in Glastonbury three years in a row opening for bigger bands, or when mostly-empty beer cans were thrown my way for a good laugh, or when a drunk girl puked on my only pair of shoes trying to tell me I sounded like a Morrissey knockoff.

Must we forsake the love of excellence, then, till every citizen feels it alike? I did not fight, Anytos, to be crowned where I have not run; but for a City where I can know who my equals really are, and my betters, to do them honour; where a man’s daily life is his own business; and where no one will force a lie on me because it is expedient, or some other man’s will.” The words seemed, as I spoke, to be my own thoughts that I owed to no one, only to some memory in my soul; but when I looked beyond the Stadium, to where they were kindling the lights on the High City in the falling dark, I saw the lamps of Samos shine through a doorway, and the wine-cup standing on the table of scoured wood. Then the pain of loss leaped out on me, like a knife in the night when one has been on one’s guard all day. The world grew hollow, a place of shadows; yet none would hold out the cup of Lethe to let me drink.

A fragilidade e a pequenez assumem dimensões infinitas conforme a sua raridade, subtileza ou efemeridade. Exercitar este olhar sobre o mundo é um trabalho poético que não só lhe imprime beleza como também glorifica a mortalidade como um dom. Perec, no seu livro "L'ínfra-ordinaire", fala precisamente da importância das pequenas coisas, da atenção que lhes devemos. Noticiam-se grandes desgraças, mas quando vemos o sol a pôr-se num cemitério de Samarcanda, é o poeta que o descreve, não é o jornalista. Os poetas vêem as intermitência da vida, os beijos que demos antes de os darmos, as garças a voar (tão intensas a pincelar o chão com as suas sombras), a chuva a bater na janela, um título esquecido de um romance imperdível, um esgar de maldade, um golo de vinho. Nenhum jornal noticia a chuva a bater na janela, isso é trabalho de um poeta. Não imaginamos a quantidade de coisas, consideradas lixo, que se podem contar ao mundo com uma beleza absurda. Aquilo que não cabe num jornal pode ser precisamente a matéria mais poética.

Services are a series of interactions between customers and the service system through many different touchpoints during the customer journey. As the sole way that customers relate to your services, you would think that interactions would be centre stage for all service providers. So, why are so many services so bad? When Demos, a UK think tank, talk of a fundamental disconnection between services and people, one of the main reasons they give is the poor consideration of the interactions between the service provider and the customer – the interaction design. To value your customer, you need to spend some time understanding the interactions they have with your service, and that means two things. Firstly, viewing your service through the customers’ eyes, and secondly, designing in such a way that customers receive consistent experiences over time which they consider valuable. It’s strange, but repeatedly we see companies ignoring both of these aspects, with the consequence that customers feel ignored and value is lost. One

Nem sempre foi assim! Mas os homens não nos querem mais, as mulheres nos odeiam. Saiamos daqui. Vamo-nos. Eu (diz a Pureza) para o poleiro das galinhas. Eu (diz a Castidade) para as colinas ainda não violadas de Surrey. Eu (diz a Modéstia) para qualquer canto onde haja muitas heras e cortinas." "Pois lá, e não aqui" (todas falam ao mesmo tempo, dando-se as mãos e fazendo gestos de despedida e desespero na direção da cama onde Orlando jaz adormecido) "nos ninhos e nos toucadores, nos escritórios e nos tribunais, reside ainda quem nos ame, quem nos honre; virgens e comerciantes; advogados e médicos; aqueles que proíbem; aqueles que negam; aqueles que fazem reverências sem saber por quê; aqueles que louvam sem entender; a tribo ainda muito numerosa (graças aos Céus!) das pessoas respeitáveis; que preferem não ver; desejam não saber; amam a escuridão; os que ainda nos adoram, e com razão, pois lhes demos riqueza, prosperidade, conforto, bem-estar. Vamos rumo a eles e te deixamos sozinho. Vinde, irmãs, vinde! Aqui não é o nosso lugar.

Knocking on a massive carved door minutes later, the sigils on it shouting to those literate enough to ‘Stay away or else!’ he received a nice surprise when the door swung open. Well, hello there. Reaching only his shoulder, with a wild mop of black hair, bright brown eyes and a rounded body made for worship – by his tongue – Remy wondered if he could convince the servant girl to come around the corner with him for a quickie before he met with this Ysabel person. Then she opened her luscious mouth. “If you’re done gawking, you might want to step back before I smash your nose with the door when I shut it.” Someone got up without sex today. He could fix that. “Hello beautiful, I actually have business with the occupant of this suite. I’m here to meet with Ysabel, the witch.” “Really.” Her tone said what she thought of his claim and her brown gaze looked him up and down, then dismissed him. “I don’t think so.” The door slammed shut in his face. What. The. Fuck. Remy pounded on the door. It immediately opened. The ebony haired vixen, her arms crossed under her bountiful tits, smirked. “Back already. What’s wrong? Did I hurt your feelings?” “Listen woman, I don’t know what crawled up your ass and turned you into an uptight bitch, but I’m here to see Ysabel, so get the fuck out of my way before I put you over my knee and –” “And what? Spank me?” Her eyes actually sparked with challenge, the minx. “I’d like to see you try. But, before you do, just so you know, my name is Ysabel. The witch.” Aaaaah, shit. Never one to admit defeat, he let a slow simmering smile spread across his face. It worked on demonesses, damned souls, human women, and even gay men, but apparently, it had no effect on scowling witches. Too bad. “It’s your lucky day. Lucifer has informed me that you’re my next assignment.” “Not by choice. And what are you supposed to do exactly? I need a tracker, not a gigolo. What happened? Did your gig as a pole dancer not work out? Equipment too small?” She dropped her gaze to his groin and sneered. A sudden, irrational urge possessed him to drop his pants, flip her over and show her there was nothing wrong with the size of his cock. He abstained, but couldn’t prevent himself from taunting her, eyeing her up and down in the same dismissive manner. “Anytime you want to measure my dick, you let me know. Naked.” “Pig.” “No, demon. Really, get your terminology straight, would you? After Lucifer’s warning, I expected someone older and badder.” To his credit he didn’t drop to the ground, but the pain in his balls did require he bend over to cup them gently which in turn meant he got the door in the face. Again. -Ysabel & Remy

Aproximávamo-nos agora da floresta enquanto a estrada ia descrevendo uma volta quando demos pelas pegadas de um homem. Depois de outro homem que trazia botas. As marcas mostravam ligeiros sinais de chuva e parámos o carro para ver melhor a pé. - Tu e eu – disse a Ngui. - Sim – disse ele com um sorriso – Um deles tem pés grandes e caminha como se estivesse cansado. - Um está descalço e anda como se a espingarda fosse pesada demais para ele. Pára o carro – disse a Mthuka. Descemos. - Olha – disse Ngui. – Um anda como se fosse muito velho e mal pudesse ver. O que está calçado. - Olha – disse eu – O que está descalço anda como quem tem cinco mulheres e vinte vacas. Gastou uma fortuna em cerveja. - Não vão chegar a lado nenhum – disse Ngui – Olha, o que vai calçado anda como se fosse morrer de um momento para o outro. Vai a cambalear com o peso da espingarda. - Que achas que andam a fazer por estes lados? - Como é que hei-de saber? Olha, o dos sapatos agora está mais forte. - Está a pensar na shamba – disse Ngui. - Kwenda na shamba. - Ndio – confirmou Ngui – Que idade dás tu ao mais velho, o dos sapatos? - Não tens nada com isso – disse eu. Dirigimo-nos para o carro e quando ele se aproximou subimos e eu indiquei a Mthuka a orla da floresta. O condutor ria-se e abanava a cabeça. - Que é que andavam os dois ali a fazer a seguir as vossas pegadas? – disse Miss Mary – Já sei que era muito engraçado porque todos se estavam a rir. Mas pareceu-me bastante parvo

1.Que sepamos vivir el presente. 2.Que no perdamos el tiempo pensando en el futuro. 3.Que dejemos de creer en la suerte y creamos en nosotros mismos. 4.Que dejemos de hacer montañas de granitos de arena. 5.Que la tristeza nos dé ganas de reír. Que nos riamos mucho. 6.Que cantemos en la ducha, en los bares, en las bodas, en las cenas con los amigos o donde nos apetezca cuando nos venga en gana. 7.Que aprendamos a decirnos «te quiero» sin que nos dé vergüenza. 8.Que nos besemos, nos toquemos y nos achuchemos mucho. 9.Que nos escuchemos tanto como sepamos compartirnos en silencio. 10.Que nos queramos, a los demás y sobre todo a nosotros mismos. 11.Que nos peleemos lo menos posible. Estar enfadado es una gran y estúpida pérdida de tiempo. ¡A la mierda el ego y el orgullo! 12.Que nos dejemos de rollos, de chorradas, de hacer ver lo que no somos, que eso no sirve pa’ ná. 13.Que le perdamos el miedo a la muerte, pero también le perdamos el miedo a vivir. 14.Que decidamos por nosotros mismos. Que nunca dejemos que los demás decidan por nosotros. 15.Que cuando la vida nos cierre una ventana sea cuando más abramos las alas para romper el cristal y salir volando. 16.Que las cosas nos lleven adonde sea, pero que nos vayan bien. 17.Que los cerebros de zafios, hipócritas, memos, mamelucos, corruptos, pesaos, estúpidos, tocapelotas, mentirosos, gilipollas… se reprogramen y entiendan que en la vida no hace falta ser así, que la vida va de otra cosa. 18.Que a las penas, puñaladas y al mal tiempo, buena cara. O mala, que tampoco pasa nada. 19.Que la vida sea siempre un sueño. 20.Y, en fin, que a la vida le demos calidad, porque belleza sobra.