Don't Trust Immediately Quotes

We are, all of us, exploring a world none of us understands...searching for a more immediate, ecstatic, and penetrating mode of living...for the integrity, the courage to be whole, living in relation to one another in the full poetry of existence. The struggle for an integrated life existing in an atmosphere of communal trust and respect is one with desperately important political and social consequences...Fear is always with us, but we just don't have time for it. -Commencement Speech, Wellesley 1969

In fact,I believe the reason why the Chinese failed to develop botany and zoology is that the Chinese scholar cannot stare coldly and unemotionally at a fish without immediately thinking of how it tastes in the mouth and wanting to eat it. The reason I don't trust Chinese surgeons is that I am afraid that when a Chinese surgeon cuts up my liver in search of a gall-stone, he may forget about the stone and put my liver in a frying pan.

Don't kid yourself by saying that one time can't make you addicted. It can. I believed it couldn't too when I first tried meth. I was so, so wrong. The worst part about it is that you won't realize what has happened immediately afterwards. Addiction is a gradual process and it doesn't happen overnight. But trust me when I tell you that one time is all that it takes to set this into motion. It can and it will.

When you're anxious, don't immediately trust your automatic thoughts because oftentimes these thoughts are irrational. Thoughts are not facts. They're just thoughts and sometimes don't need to be given so much importance.

A little voice in the back of my head said: don’t trust him! You’re not special! You’re weird and awkward and a big-headed Neanderthal freak with Medusa hair!!! He’s confused you with someone else!!!! Almost immediately I told that voice to go eat shit and die.

Don't crave immediate results. Take the difficult route which puts your patience under fire and upgrades your lionheartedness.

We don’t have to allow stereotypical notions or past experiences to immediately alter our personal future.

Human mind also has teeth and digestive system. Most people use just teeth. They react immediately to everything. They don't digest. Teeth can only chew things. To extract nutrients, you need to swallow and digest.

When someone hurts you like that, you don’t just heal immediately.  It’s a breach of trust that makes you question everything and everyone else in your life.  It makes you re-examine your friends and family under a microscope.

Achieve excellence, don’t just avoid errors (this was introduced in chapter 7). Build trust and take care of your people. Use your legacy for inspiration. Use guiding principles for decision criteria. Use immediate recognition to reinforce desired behaviors. Begin with the end in mind. Encourage a questioning attitude over blind obedience

Aiden what have you told this poor child? And let go of her arm, you'll pull it out of the socket like that." The woman admonished. Aiden immediately released her arm. Meryn eyed the woman with new respect, if she had Aiden hopping to, then maybe she could help her get out of here. "She is a menace! She gave Colton a bloody lip, threw a lamp at me, knocked me unconscious with the back of my toilet, kicked me in the back of the head... twice and dented the roof of my trunk!" Meryn noticed that he roared the last grievance, trust a man to be more worried about his car than his possible concussion. "And how did she dent the roof of your trunk?" Meryn heard the edge to the woman's voice and answered quickly hoping to garner sympathy for her situation. "He threw me in the trunk of his car. I was kicking it from the inside trying to escape." She sniffed dramatically and glared at Aiden. She noticed that he had suddenly paled. "Oh, son." The handsome older man covered his face with his hand and the woman stared at them in shock. "You locked her in the trunk?!" "She was kicking me." Aiden protested. "She is human and half your size!" "You don't understand, she is a terrorist!

To respond to a question or start improvised scenes, begin immediately using the first words that come to you. Trust your mind. Your first thought is a reasonable starting place; it is good enough. Don’t hesitate. Once you begin speaking, you have something to work with and build on. With the first-thought method it is as if the idea selects you rather than the other way around. The improviser focuses on making that idea into a good one, rather than searching for a “good idea.

The Fox and the Goat By an unlucky chance a Fox fell into a deep well from which he could not get out. A Goat passed by shortly afterwards, and asked the Fox what he was doing down there. "Oh, have you not heard?" said the Fox; "there is going to be a great drought, so I jumped down here in order to be sure to have water by me. Why don't you come down too?" The Goat thought well of this advice, and jumped down into the well. But the Fox immediately jumped on her back, and by putting his foot on her long horns managed to jump up to the edge of the well. "Good-bye, friend," said the Fox, "remember next time, "Never trust the advice of a man in difficulties.

You may have read or heard about the so-called positive thinkers of the West. They say just the opposite -- they don't know what they are saying. They say, "When you breathe out, throw out all your misery and negativity; and when you breathe in, breathe in joy, positivity, happiness, cheerfulness." Atisha's method is just the opposite: when you breathe in, breathe in all the misery and suffering of all the beings of the world -- past, present and future. And when you breathe out, breathe out all the joy that you have, all the blissfulness that you have, all the benediction that you have. Breathe out, pour yourself into existence. This is the method of compassion: drink in all the suffering and pour out all the blessings. And you will be surprised if you do it. The moment you take all the sufferings of the world inside you, they are no longer sufferings. The heart immediately transforms the energy. The heart is a transforming force: drink in misery, and it is transformed into blissfulness... then pour it out. Once you have learned that your heart can do this magic, this miracle, you would like to do it again and again. Try it. It is one of the most practical methods -- simple, and it brings immediate results. Do it today, and see. That is one of the approaches of Buddha and all his disciples. Atisha is one of his disciples, in the same tradition, in the same line. Buddha says again and again to his disciples, "IHI PASSIKO: come and see!" They are very scientific people. Buddhism is the most scientific religion on the earth; hence, Buddhism is gaining more and more ground in the world every day. As the world becomes more intelligent, Buddha will become more and more important. It is bound to be so. As more and more people come to know about science, Buddha will have great appeal, because he will convince the scientific mind -- because he says, "Whatsoever I am saying can be practiced." And I don't say to you, "Believe it," I say, "Experiment with it, experience it, and only then if you feel it yourself, trust it. Otherwise there is no need to believe.

I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and jumped when I turned and found Ren’s brother standing behind me as a man. Ren got up, alert, and watched him carefully, suspicious of Kishan’s every move. Ren’s tail twitched back and forth, and a deep grumble issued from his chest. Kishan look down at Ren, who had crept even closer to keep an eye on him, and then looked back at me. He reached out his hand, and when I placed mine in it, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it, then bowed deeply with great aplomb. “May I ask your name?” “My name is Kelsey. Kelsey hayes.” “Kelsey. Well, I, for one, appreciate all the efforts you have made on our behalf. I apologize if I frightened you earlier. I am,” he smiled, “out of practice in conversing with young ladies. These gifts you will be offering to Durga. Would you kindly tell me more about them?” Ren growled unhappily. I nodded. “Is Kishan your given name?” “My full name is actually Sohan Kishan Rajaram, but you can call me Kishan if you like.” He smiled a dazzling white smile, which was even more brilliant due to the contrast with his dark skin. He offered an arm. “Would you please sit and talk with me, Kelsey?” There was something very charming about Kishan. I surprised myself by finding I immediately trusted and liked him. He had a quality similar to his brother. Like Ren, he had the ability to set a person completely at ease. Maybe it was their diplomatic training. Maybe it was how their mother raised them. Whatever it was made me respond positively. I smiled at him. “I’d love to.” He tucked my arm under his and walked with me over to the fire. Ren growled again, and Kishan shot a smirk in his direction. I noticed him wince when he sat, so I offered him some aspirin. “Shouldn’t we be getting you two to a doctor? I really think you might need stitches and Ren-“ “Thank you, but no. You don’t need to worry about our minor pains.” “I wouldn’t exactly call your wounds minor, Kishan.” “The curse helps us to heal quickly. You’ll see. We’ll both recover swiftly enough on our own. Still, it was nice to have such a lovely young woman tending to my injuries.” Ren stood in front of us and looked like he was a tiger suffering from apoplexy. I admonished, “Ren, be civil.” Kishan smiled widely and waited for me to get comfortable. Then he scooted closer to me and rested his arm on the log behind my shoulders. Ren stepped right between us, nudged his brother roughly aside with his furry head, creating a wider space, and maneuvered his body into the middle. He dropped heavily to the ground and rested his head in my lap. Kishan frowned, but I started talking, sharing the story of what Ren and I had been through. I told him about meeting Ren at the circus and about how he tricked me to get me to India. I talked about Phet, the Cave of Kanheri, and finding the prophecy, and I told him that we were on our way to Hampi. As I lost myself in our story, I stroked Ren’s head. He shut his eyes and purred, and then he fell asleep. I talked for almost an hour, barely registering Kishan’s raised eyebrow and thoughtful expression as he watched the two of us together. I didn’t even notice when he’d changed back into a tiger.

Millwall fans are an earthy bunch, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but many of them lack social graces, and the demographics are far removed from architect’s impressions of the New Den, which is a superb ground. It must be said, however, that their chant of, “Meerrrr!” sounds more like a flock of lambs being led to the slaughter. I don’t wish to disillusion the Millwall faithful, for they may feel that the “Meerrrr!” chant makes them sound tough ….. but it doesn’t. Trust me, from the East Upper Stand it sounds more like a bleat than a roar. When we got to London Bridge – still considered to be part of the Millwall Manor – I observed a man in his late thirties (old enough to know better) give the “Meerrrrr!” bleat, and it had a strange effect on him, for he immediately started to swagger. His knees pushed out to the side, he rolled his shoulders and his face lit up with an unpleasant smirk, as if to say, “Did you see me? I said Meerrrr!

If I listen to my heart, if I trust in that voice that sits deep in my soul, that untouched being of truth - I know it's there - I will discover the answers eventually. Maybe not immediately. Maybe not tomorrow. But if I don't open myself to possibility, I'll never know what it means to have lived. I'll never know what it means to have loved.

Many people feel strongly that strictness and punishment work. I agree. I would never say that punishment does not work. Punishment does work in that it usually stops misbehavior immediately. But what are the long-term results? We are often fooled by immediate results. Sometimes we must beware of what works when the long-term results are negative. The long-term results of punishment are that children usually adopt one or all of the Four R’s of Punishment: The Four R’s of Punishment Resentment—“This is unfair. I can’t trust adults.” Revenge—“They are winning now, but I’ll get even.” Rebellion—“I’ll do just the opposite to prove I don’t have to do it their way.” Retreat: Sneakiness—“I won’t get caught next time.” Reduced self-esteem—“I am a bad person.

There’s never a moment in all our lives, from the day we trusted Christ till the day we see Him, when God is not longing to bless us. At every moment, in every circumstance, God is doing us good. He never stops. It gives Him too much pleasure. God is not waiting to bless us after our troubles end. He is blessing us right now, in and through those troubles. At this exact moment, He is giving us what He thinks is good. There, of course, is the rub. He gives us what He thinks is good, what He knows is good. We don’t always agree. We have our own ideas about what a good God should do in the middle of our circumstances… Not only do we want what immediately feels good and often dislike what in fact is good for us, but we’re also out of touch with what would bring us the most pleasure if it were given to us.

I have electricity in my home, but if I don’t plug into it, I don’t see the light. I have Jesus in my heart, but if I don’t plug into Him daily, I won’t see His light either, even though it is there. I have to connect with Him. Talk to Him. Worship Him. Spend time with Him. Bask in His radiance like bathing in the sun. Become so familiar with His illumination of my soul that I immediately recognize any counterfeit.

In the Vilnius ghetto, the news of German setbacks in the Soviet Union in the opening weeks of 1943 resulted in an upsurge of grim humour, as Herman Kruk recorded in his diary: A German asks a Jew to lend him 20 roubles. The Jew immediately takes the sum out of his pocket and gives it to him. The German wonders: ‘How can this be? You don’t know me at all, and you trust me with such a sum?’ I have the fullest trust in the Germans,’ answers the Jew. ‘You took Stalingrad and gave it back; you took Kharkov and gave it back. I’m sure that you will give me back my 20 roubles.’ What is the difference between General Rommel and a watch? A watch goes tick-tock and goes forward; Rommel goes tock-tick and goes backward … What city is the largest in the world? Stalingrad, because it took the Germans months to get from the outskirts to the centre.6

The Role of Parents The social group that is most important for survival, of course, is the immediate family. Children rely on their parents to provide food, comfort, warmth, and shelter. They instinctively trust parents to interpret the meaning of things, to help deal with scary new challenges, to keep them safe from harm’s way. Children have no choice but to rely on parents in order to get by in the world. Sadly, however, many parents don’t provide comfort and support, but rather try to control their children through constant criticism. Many of you have grown up this way.

When Trump started talking about anchor babies, the entire media needed smelling salts, ending with this exchange with ABC's tom Llamas: LLAMAS: That's an offensive term. People find that hurtful. TRUMP: You mean it's not politically-correct, and yet everybody uses it?... LLAMAS: Look it up in the dictionary--it's offensive. TRUMP: I'll use the word "anchor baby." Excuse me, I'll use the word "anchor baby." That's when we discovered that if Republicans don't immediately go prostrate and grovel for failing to adhere to the Nation magazine's stylebook, the word police on't have a "plan B.

like the biggest burden of all. We can always pray more, and we can’t possibly pray for every need in the world. Even if we are extremely organized and disciplined, we won’t be able to consistently pray for more than a handful of people and problems. But that doesn’t mean our prayers are limited to the items we can write on a 3 × 5 card. If your aunt’s cousin has upcoming heart surgery, pray immediately after you hear about it. When a missionary shares her requests, pray right on the spot for them. Don’t let the moment pass you by. Pray a short prayer. Trust God for the results and, in many cases, move on.

Assess The Environment Ask yourself these questions: How would you rate your own trustworthiness? How would you rate the trustworthiness of your co-workers? How would you rate your immediate supervisor? What about your company’s top management? My colleagues and I asked these questions in a survey where: on a scale of 1-10, where ten equals “can always be trusted in all situations” and one equals “can rarely or never be trusted. Respondents rated: Their own trustworthiness at an average 8.72; All of the other people they work with as a group averaging 7.59; Their immediate supervisors a bit higher, at an average 8.33; Their company’s top management the lowest, at an average 6.43. The results indicate that we generally judge others to be less trustworthy than ourselves. If most of the people you work with are also like our survey respondents, they are making the same judgments. That means it is very likely some of the people you work with judge you to be less trustworthy than you consider yourself to be. Your first thought may be that they are mistaken. Certainly you don’t intend to act in ways others view as untrustworthy, so they must be misinterpreting your intentions. But the fact is people act on their assessments of your trustworthiness, not yours. Your best intentions can’t change their opinion. Only by changing what you say and how you act can affect how others assess your trustworthiness.

Obviously, in those situations, we lose the sale. But we’re not trying to maximize each and every transaction. Instead, we’re trying to build a lifelong relationship with each customer, one phone call at a time. A lot of people may think it’s strange that an Internet company is so focused on the telephone, when only about 5 percent of our sales happen through the telephone. In fact, most of our phone calls don’t even result in sales. But what we’ve found is that on average, every customer contacts us at least once sometime during his or her lifetime, and we just need to make sure that we use that opportunity to create a lasting memory. The majority of phone calls don’t result in an immediate order. Sometimes a customer may be calling because it’s her first time returning an item, and she just wants a little help stepping through the process. Other times, a customer may call because there’s a wedding coming up this weekend and he wants a little fashion advice. And sometimes, we get customers who call simply because they’re a little lonely and want someone to talk to. I’m reminded of a time when I was in Santa Monica, California, a few years ago at a Skechers sales conference. After a long night of bar-hopping, a small group of us headed up to someone’s hotel room to order some food. My friend from Skechers tried to order a pepperoni pizza from the room-service menu, but was disappointed to learn that the hotel we were staying at did not deliver hot food after 11:00 PM. We had missed the deadline by several hours. In our inebriated state, a few of us cajoled her into calling Zappos to try to order a pizza. She took us up on our dare, turned on the speakerphone, and explained to the (very) patient Zappos rep that she was staying in a Santa Monica hotel and really craving a pepperoni pizza, that room service was no longer delivering hot food, and that she wanted to know if there was anything Zappos could do to help. The Zappos rep was initially a bit confused by the request, but she quickly recovered and put us on hold. She returned two minutes later, listing the five closest places in the Santa Monica area that were still open and delivering pizzas at that time. Now, truth be told, I was a little hesitant to include this story because I don’t actually want everyone who reads this book to start calling Zappos and ordering pizza. But I just think it’s a fun story to illustrate the power of not having scripts in your call center and empowering your employees to do what’s right for your brand, no matter how unusual or bizarre the situation. As for my friend from Skechers? After that phone call, she’s now a customer for life. Top 10 Ways to Instill Customer Service into Your Company   1. Make customer service a priority for the whole company, not just a department. A customer service attitude needs to come from the top.   2. Make WOW a verb that is part of your company’s everyday vocabulary.   3. Empower and trust your customer service reps. Trust that they want to provide great service… because they actually do. Escalations to a supervisor should be rare.   4. Realize that it’s okay to fire customers who are insatiable or abuse your employees.   5. Don’t measure call times, don’t force employees to upsell, and don’t use scripts.   6. Don’t hide your 1-800 number. It’s a message not just to your customers, but to your employees as well.   7. View each call as an investment in building a customer service brand, not as an expense you’re seeking to minimize.   8. Have the entire company celebrate great service. Tell stories of WOW experiences to everyone in the company.   9. Find and hire people who are already passionate about customer service. 10. Give great service to everyone: customers, employees, and vendors.

Imagine yourself in your counterpart’s situation. The beauty of empathy is that it doesn’t demand that you agree with the other person’s ideas (you may well find them crazy). But by acknowledging the other person’s situation, you immediately convey that you are listening. And once they know that you are listening, they may tell you something that you can use. ■​The reasons why a counterpart will not make an agreement with you are often more powerful than why they will make a deal, so focus first on clearing the barriers to agreement. Denying barriers or negative influences gives them credence; get them into the open. ■​Pause. After you label a barrier or mirror a statement, let it sink in. Don’t worry, the other party will fill the silence. ■​Label your counterpart’s fears to diffuse their power. We all want to talk about the happy stuff, but remember, the faster you interrupt action in your counterpart’s amygdala, the part of the brain that generates fear, the faster you can generate feelings of safety, well-being, and trust. ■​List the worst things that the other party could say about you and say them before the other person can. Performing an accusation audit in advance prepares you to head off negative dynamics before they take root. And because these accusations often sound exaggerated when said aloud, speaking them will encourage the other person to claim that quite the opposite is true. ■​Remember you’re dealing with a person who wants to be appreciated and understood. So use labels to reinforce and encourage positive perceptions and dynamics

■​Imagine yourself in your counterpart’s situation. The beauty of empathy is that it doesn’t demand that you agree with the other person’s ideas (you may well find them crazy). But by acknowledging the other person’s situation, you immediately convey that you are listening. And once they know that you are listening, they may tell you something that you can use. ■​The reasons why a counterpart will not make an agreement with you are often more powerful than why they will make a deal, so focus first on clearing the barriers to agreement. Denying barriers or negative influences gives them credence; get them into the open. ■​Pause. After you label a barrier or mirror a statement, let it sink in. Don’t worry, the other party will fill the silence. ■​Label your counterpart’s fears to diffuse their power. We all want to talk about the happy stuff, but remember, the faster you interrupt action in your counterpart’s amygdala, the part of the brain that generates fear, the faster you can generate feelings of safety, well-being, and trust. ■​List the worst things that the other party could say about you and say them before the other person can. Performing an accusation audit in advance prepares you to head off negative dynamics before they take root. And because these accusations often sound exaggerated when said aloud, speaking them will encourage the other person to claim that quite the opposite is true. ■​Remember you’re dealing with a person who wants to be appreciated and understood. So use labels to reinforce and encourage positive perceptions and dynamics.

Never repress. Repression is the greatest calamity that has happened to man. And it has happened for very beautiful reasons. You look at a Buddha or a Muso – so silent, undisturbed. A greed arises: you would also like to be like them. What to do? You start trying to be a stone statue. Whenever there is a situation and you can be disturbed, you hold yourself. You control yourself. Control is a dirty word. It has not four letters in it, but it is a four-letter word. Freedom, and when I say freedom I don’t mean license. When I say freedom you may understand license, because that’s how things go. A controlled mind, whenever it hears about freedom, immediately understands it as license. License is the opposite pole of control. Freedom is just in between, just exactly in the middle, where there is no control and no license.

Put your glasses on mate ….. Come down from there, you’re gonna kill yourself …. Well, what does your Method Statement say? …. Right, let’s get you re-inducted. You need a reminder of site rules ….. Where are your outriggers, mate? ….. Put your glasses on ….. Put your glasses on …. Put your glasses on …. Oh, they steam up, do they? I’ve never heard that one before …. Where’s your mask? If you breathe this shit in you’re going to kill yourself. Silicosis is incurable ….. Right STOP! Do not reverse another inch without a banksman ….. Don’t put your glasses on just because you see me walk around the corner. They won’t protect MY eyes …. Hook yourself on, what’s the matter with you? Are all you scaffolders superhuman or something? ….. Put your glasses on ….. Oi! What stops me walking right in there? Where’s your barriers and signage? ….. Oi! I’m getting showered in fucking sparks here. And so is that can of petrol ….. Put your glasses on …. Where’s the flashback arrestor on this bottle of propane? ….. Hey, pal, stop welding until you’ve sheeted up ….. What are you doing climbing up there? Where’s your supervisor? What did he say about access in this morning’s Safe Start briefing? Nothing? Right, he can sit through another induction tomorrow ….. Where are the retaining pins to the joint clamps in this concrete pump line? SEAMUS! Fucking deal with this, will you? ….Put your glasses on …. Hey! Hey! Come here! Why have you got a nail instead of an ‘R’ clip to the quick-hitch system on your excavator bucket? NO! IT WON’T DO! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? If that bucket falls on someone they’re not going to get up again. And you trust a fucking nail to hold it in position! Take this machine out of service immediately until you’ve got the proper ‘R’ clip! ….. Put your glasses on …. Where’s the edge protection. Who removed the edge protection? Right, let me phone for a scaffolder ….. Put your glasses on ….. Oi! Get out from under there! Never, ever stand underneath a suspended load. Even if all the equipment’s been inspected, which it obviously has, you can never trust the crane driver. He can be taken ill suddenly ….. Come here, mate, let’s have a little chat. Why are you working on Fall Arrest? You’re supposed to be working on Fall Restraint (FR ‘restrains’ you going near the perimeter edge of the building, FA ‘arrests’ your fall if, well, if you fall. If you’re hanging off a building we’ve got less than ten minutes to reach you before you start going into toxic shock brought on by suspension trauma. In other words, we need a Rescue Plan, which is why we’d prefer people work on Fall Restraint)

I do trust you though. I think if someone tried to take me, you’d at least fight them for me a little…” I watched his face for a moment before narrowing my eyes. “Wouldn’t you?” That had his other eye popping open, his cheeks still slightly pink, but everything else about him completely alert. “You know I would.” Why that pleased me so much, I wasn’t going to overanalyze. “If someone tried to take you, I know aikido, some jiu-jitsu, and kickboxing,” I offered him up. “But my dentist says I have really strong teeth, so I’d be better off trying to bite someone’s finger or ear off instead.” Aaron’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead almost comically. “Like a little Chihuahua,” he suggested, the spoon going into his mouth with a sly grin. I winked at him, immediately regretting it. I didn’t want it to come across like I was flirting. “I was thinking more of a piranha. I’ve only had one filling in my entire life,” I told him, wishing each word coming out of my mouth wasn’t coming out of it. If he thought I was being awkward or a flirt, he didn’t make it known. “Or a raptor.” “A lion.” “A tiger.” “Did you know a jaguar has twice the strength in its bite than a tiger does?” Aaron frowned as he took another bite of his oatmeal. “No shit?” “No. Two thousand pounds per square inch. They’re the only big cat that kills their prey by biting its head, through bone and everything. A tiger bites the neck of whatever animal they’re eating to cut their air and blood flow off. Crazy, huh?” He looked impressed. “I had no idea.” I nodded. “Not a lot of people do.” “Is there anything that bites harder than they do?” “Crocodiles. The really big ones. I’m pretty sure they have about 4000 or 5000 psi bites.” For the fifty-second time, I shrugged. “I like watching the Animal Channel and Discovery,” I said, making it sound like an apology. Aaron gave me that soft smile that made me feel like my insides were on fire. Then he winked. “I don’t know much about crocodiles, but I know all about alligators,” he offered. “Did you know there are only two species left in the world?” “There are?” “American alligator and the Asian alligator. More than a fifth of all of them live in Florida.” “We have some gators in Texas. There’s a state park by Houston where you can go and you can usually see a bunch. I went camping there one time.” One corner of his mouth tilted up as he chewed. “Look at you, Rebel Without a Cause.” With anyone else, I’d probably think they were picking on me, but I could see the affection on Aaron’s face. I could feel the kindness that just came off him in waves, so I winked back at him. “I live life on the edge. I should start teaching a class on how to be bad.” “Right? Quitting your job, coming to Florida even though you were worried….” He trailed off with a grin and a look out of the corner of his eye. “I pretty much have my masters and license to practice. I’ll teach people everything I know.

He raised an eyebrow. "Where did you get this? Is our Anne Boleyn suddenly from Mars?" He chuckled. "I always thought she hailed from Wiltshire." Luce's mind raced to catch up. She was playing Anne Boleyn? She'd never read this play, but Daniel's costume suggested he was playing the king, Henry VIII. "Mr. Shakespeare-ah,Will-thought it would look good-" "Oh,Will did?" Daniel smirked, bot believing her at all but seeming not to care. It was strange to feel that she could do or say almost anything and Daniel would still find it charming. "You're a little bit mad, aren't you, Lucinda?" "I-well-" He brushed her cheek with the back of his finger. "I adore you." "I adore you,too." The words tumbled from her mouth,feeling so real and so true after the last few stammering lies. It was like letting out a long-held breath. "I've been thinking, thinking a lot,and I wanted to tell you that-that-" "Yes?" "The truth is that what I feel for you is...deeper than adoration." She pressed her hands over his heart. "I trust you. I trust your love. I know how strong it is,and how beautiful." Luce knew that she couldn't come right out and say what she really meant-she was supposed to be a different version of herself,and the other times,when Daniel had figured out who she was, where she'd come from,he'd clammed up immediately and told her to leave. But maybe if she chose her words carefully, Daniel would understand. "It may seem like sometimes I-I forgot what you mean to me and what I mean to you,but deep down...I know.I know because we are meant to be together.I love you, Daniel." Daniel looked shocked. "You-you love me?" "Of course." Luce almost laughed at how obvious it was-but then she remembered: She had no idea which moment from her past she'd walked into.Maybe in this lifetime they'd only exchanged coy glances. Daniel's chest rose and fell violently and his lower lip began to quiver. "I want you to come away with me," he said quickly.There was a desperate edge to his voice. Luce wanted to cry out Yes!, but something held her back.It was so easy to get lost in Daniel when his body was pressed so close to hers and she could feel the heat coming off his skin and the beating of his heart through his shirt.She felt she could tell him anything now-from how glorious it had felt to die in his arms in Versailles to how devastated she was now that she knew the scope of his suffering. But she held back: The girl he thought she was in this lifetime wouldn't talk about those things, wouldn't know them. Neither would Daniel. So when she finally opened her mouth,her voice faltered. Daniel put a finger over her lips. "Wait. Don't protest yet. Let me ask you properly.By and by, my love." He peeked out the cracked wardrobe door, toward the curtain.A cheer came from the stage.The audience roared with laughter and applause. Luce hadn't even realized the play had begun. "That's my entrance.I'll see you soon." He kissed her forehead,then dashed out and onto the stage.

now is love—real love. I have discovered that lonely and hurting people often don’t expect you to meet their needs . . . they simply want to be loved and understood. If you’re in need of real love, receive it from God right now. Then let it flow through you to bless others. JANUARY 18 God Has Not Forgotten You God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it. 1 CORINTHIANS 10:13 NIV The world is full of people struggling with trials and temptations and looking for a way out. If you have ever felt pressed on every side and couldn’t find an escape, or confused and didn’t know what to do, you know what a desperate and lonely feeling that can be. The Word tells you God is faithful and He will provide a way for you, but He doesn’t always show us the way immediately. That is when you must wait . . . and trust. Waiting on God purifies your faith and builds character in you. You may not like waiting, but God’s way is perfect! So be assured God has not forgotten you. Trust Him, and in His time He will reveal His perfect plan for you. While you’re waiting, don’t forget to enjoy your life.

You might have to negotiate further, depending on your state of mind. Maybe you don’t trust yourself. You think that you’ll ask yourself for one thing and, having delivered, immediately demand more. And you’ll be punitive and hurtful about it. And you’ll denigrate what was already offered. Who wants to work for a tyrant like that? Not you. That’s why you don’t do what you want yourself to do. You’re a bad employee—but a worse boss. Maybe you need to say to yourself, “OK. I know we haven’t gotten along very well in the past. I’m sorry about that. I’m trying to improve. I’ll probably make some more mistakes along the way, but I’ll try to listen if you object. I’ll try to learn. I noticed, just now, today, that you weren’t really jumping at the opportunity to help when I asked. Is there something I could offer in return for your cooperation? Maybe if you did the dishes, we could go for coffee. You like espresso. How about an espresso—maybe a double shot? Or is there something else you want?” Then you could listen. Maybe you’ll hear a voice inside (maybe it’s even the voice of a long-lost child). Maybe it will reply, “Really? You really want to do something nice for me? You’ll really do it? It’s not a trick?

Stop,' I put my hand on Xaden's arm. 'Xaden, stop. If you want me to go with you, I'll go. It's that simple.' His gaze shifts to meet mine and immediately softens. 'No fucking way,' Dain whispers, but it reverberates in my bones like a lightning strike. I pivot, dropping my hand from Xaden's arm, but it's obvious by Dain's expression that he now knows there's something between Xaden and me- and he's hurt. My stomach hits the ground. 'Dain-' 'Him?' Dain's eyes widen and his face flushes. 'You and... him?' He shakes his head. 'People talk, and I thought that's all it was, but you...' Disappointment drops his shoulders. 'Don't go, Violet. Please. He's going to get you killed.' 'I know you think Xaden has ulterior motives, but I trust him. He's had every opportunity and has never hurt me.' I move toward Dain. 'At some point, you have to let this go.' Dain looks horrified for a second but quickly masks it. 'If he's what you choose...' He sighs. 'Then I guess that has to be enough for me, doesn't it?' 'Yes.' I nod. Thank gods all this nonsense is about to be past us. He swallows hard and leans in to whisper. 'I'll miss you, Violet.' Then he pivots on his heel and heads for Cath. 'Thank you for trusting me,' Xaden says as I reach Tairn's foreleg. 'Always.

What did Kavinsky say about it?” Chris asks me. “Nothing yet. He’s still at lacrosse practice.” My phone immediately starts to buzz, and the three of us look at each other, wide-eyed. Margot picks it up and looks at it. “It’s Peter!” She hot-potatoes the phone to me. “Let’s give them some privacy,” she says, nudging Chris. Chris shrugs her off. I ignore both of them and answer the phone. “Hello.” My voice comes out thin as a reed. Peter starts talking fast. “Okay, I’ve seen the video, and the first thing I’m going to say to you is don’t freak out.” He’s breathing hard; it sounds like he’s running. “Don’t freak out? How can I not? This is terrible. Do you know what they’re all saying about me in the comments? That I’m a slut. They think we’re having sex in that video, Peter.” “Never read the comments, Covey! That’s the first rule of--” “If you say ‘Fight Club’ to me right now, I will hang up on you.” “Sorry. Okay, I know it sucks but--” “It doesn’t ‘suck.’ It’s a literal nightmare. My most private moment, for everybody to see. I’m completely humiliated. The things people are saying--” My voice breaks. Kitty and Margot and Chris are all looking at me with sad eyes, which makes me feel even sadder. “Don’t cry, Lara Jean. Please don’t cry. I promise you I’m going to fix this. I’m going to get whoever runs Anonybitch to take it down.” “How? We don’t even know who they are! And besides, I bet our whole school’s seen it by now. Teachers, too. I know for a fact that teachers look at Anonybitch. I was in the faculty lounge once and I overheard Mr. Filipe and Ms. Ryan saying how bad it makes our school look. And what about college admission boards and our future employers?” Peter guffaws. “Future employers? Covey, I’ve seen much worse. Hell, I’ve seen worse pictures of me on here. Remember that picture of me with my head in a toilet bowl, and I’m naked?” I shudder. “I never saw that picture. Besides, that’s you; that’s not me. I don’t do that kind of stuff.” “Just trust me, okay? I promise I’ll take care of it.” I nod, even though I know he can’t see me. Peter is powerful. If anyone could fix such a thing, it would be him. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. Coach is gonna kick my ass if he sees me on the phone. I’ll call you tonight, okay? Don’t go to sleep.” I don’t want to hang up. I wish we could talk longer. “Okay,” I whisper. When I hang up, Margot, Chris, and Kitty are all three staring at me. “Well?” Chris says. “He says he’ll take care of it.” Smugly Kitty says, “I told you so.” “What does that even mean, ‘he’ll take care of it’?” Margot asks. “He hasn’t exactly proven himself to be responsible.” “It’s not his fault,” Kitty and I say at the same time.

SEVEN CHANGE MASTERY SHIFTS • Change Mastery Shift 1: From Problem Focus to Opportunity Focus. Effective leaders tend to perceive and to innovate on the opportunities inherent in change. • Change Mastery Shift 2: From Short-Term Focus to Long-Term Focus. Effective leaders don’t lose sight of their long-term vision in the midst of change. • Change Mastery Shift 3: From Circumstance Focus to Purpose Focus. Effective leaders maintain a clear sense of purpose, value, and meaning to rise above immediate circumstances. • Change Mastery Shift 4: From Control Focus to Agility Focus. Effective leaders understand that control is a management principle that yields a certain degree of results. However, agility, flexibility, and innovation are leadership principles that sustain results over the long haul. • Change Mastery Shift 5: From Self-Focus to Service. Effective leaders buffer their teams and organizations from the stress of change by managing, neutralizing, and/or transcending their own stress. • Change Mastery Shift 6: From Expertise Focus to Listening Focus. Effective leaders stay open and practice authentic listening to stay connected with others and to consider multiple, innovative solutions. • Change Mastery Shift 7: From Doubt Focus to Trust Focus. Effective leaders are more secure in themselves; they possess a sense that they can handle whatever may come their way; their self-awareness and self-trust are bigger than the circumstances of change.

At the time of solitude, I went where Narmada was sleeping. She got awake and sat up. She neither got scared nor nervous but she immediately got off the bed. She kept both her hands tied on her chest. I was standing so close to her that my face was near her face. We could sense each other’s breath. I called out her name and could not speak anything else. After a moment, I started - “I love you Narmada…I like to be with you…I want to marry you.” She got nervous and said - “Please, go to your room, why have you come here? It may cause trouble if Jaanki sees us like this.” She was neck down. Her eyes were on the floor. Her heart was beating fast. “Don’t you want to talk to me? Why are you angry with me? Why don’t you trust on my feelings for you?” - I softly asked her. “I guess you don’t like my friendship with Varsha. You and Varsha are poles apart.” - I added. She said - “You please go. It would not be nice if someone sees us like this. I do not want anything from you.” I said - “But I am dying for you and I know you too are made for me.” Her eyes suddenly fell on maid behind the curtains of the door who was trying to listen to our conversation. Narmada said - “You please leave right now, we’ll talk later. Mom is not at home.” I went by on her prescriptive tone. She was fighting for her self-being and the reason was only Varsha. She felt suffocated with my friendship with Varsha. I was glad to hear her words - “WE’LL TALK LATER”. This meant, she gave her consent to my love. She understood my restlessness. -- Excerpts from Romantic Novel "Narmada

If they’re not practicing deliberately, even experts can see their skills backslide. Ericsson shared with me an incredible example of this. Even though you might be inclined to trust the advice of a silver-haired doctor over one fresh out of medical school, it’s been found that in a few fields of medicine, doctors’ skills don’t improve the longer they’ve been practicing. The diagnostic accuracy of professional mammographers, for example, doesn’t get more accurate over the years. Why would that be? For most mammographers, practicing medicine is not deliberate practice, according to Ericsson. It’s more like putting into a tin cup than working with a coach. That’s because mammographers usually only find out if they missed a tumor months or years later, if at all, at which point they’ve probably forgotten the details of the case and can no longer learn from their successes and mistakes. One field of medicine in which this is definitively not the case is surgery. Unlike mammographers, surgeons tend to get better with time. What makes surgeons different from mammographers, according to Ericsson, is that the outcome of most surgeries is usually immediately apparent—the patient either gets better or doesn’t—which means that surgeons are constantly receiving feedback on their performance. They’re always learning what works and what doesn’t, always getting better. This finding leads to a practical application of expertise theory: Ericsson suggests that mammographers regularly be asked to evaluate old cases for which the outcome is already known. That way they can get immediate feedback on their performance.

To my great distress, I sometimes hear people say, in their zeal for fervency and efficacy in prayer, that we should never qualify our prayer requests with the words "if it be Your will." Some will even say that to attach those words, those conditional terms, to our prayers is an act of unbelief. We are told today that in the boldness of faith we are to "name it and claim it." I suppose I should be more measured in my response to this trend, but I can't think of anything more foreign to the teaching of Christ. We come to the presence of God in boldness, but never in arrogance. Yes, we can name and claim those things God has clearly promised in Scripture. For instance, we can claim the certainty of forgiveness if we confess our sins before Him, because He promises that. But when it comes to getting a raise, purchasing a home, or finding healing from a disease, God hasn't made those kind of specific promises anywhere in Scripture, so we are not free to name and claim those things. As I mentioned earlier, when we come before God, we must remember two simple facts-who He is and who we are. We must remember that we're talking to the King, the Sovereign One, the Creator, but we are only creatures. If we will keep those facts in mind, we will pray politely. We will say, "By Your leave," "As You wish," "If You please," and so on. That's the way we go before God. To say that it is a manifestation of unbelief or a weakness of faith to say to God "if it be Your will" is to slander the very Lord of the Lord's Prayer. It was Jesus, after all, who, in His moment of greatest passion, prayed regarding the will of God. In his Gospel, Luke tells us that immediately following the Last Supper: Coming out, He went to the Mount of Olives, as He was accustomed, and His disciples also followed Him. When He came to the place, He said to them, "Pray that you may not enter into temptation." And He was withdrawn from them about a stone's throw, and He knelt down and prayed, saying, "Father, if it is Your will, take this cup away from Me; nevertheless not My will, but Yours, be done." Then an angel appeared to Him from heaven, strengthening Him. And being in agony, He prayed more earnestly. Then His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground. (Luke 22:39-44) It is important to see what Jesus prays here. He says, "Not My will, but Yours, be done." Jesus was not saying, "I don't want to be obedient" or "I refuse to submit." Jesus was saying: "Father, if there's any other way, all things being equal, I would rather not have to do it this way. What You have set before Me is more ghastly than I can contemplate. I'm entering into My grand passion and I'm terrified, but if this is what You want, this is what I'll do. Not My will, but Your will, be done, because My will is to do Your will." I also want you to notice what happened after Jesus prayed. Luke tells us that an angel came to Him and strengthened Him. The angel was the messenger of God. He came from heaven with the Father's answer to Jesus' prayer. That answer was this: "You must drink the cup." This is what it means to pray that the will of God would be done. It is the highest expression of faith to submit to the sovereignty of God. The real prayer of faith is the prayer that trusts God no matter whether the answer is yes or no. It takes no faith to "claim," like a robber, something that is not ours to claim. We are to come to God and tell Him what we want, but we must trust Him to give the answer that is best for us. That is what Jesus did.

To prove to an indignant questioner on the spur of the moment that the work I do was useful seemed a thankless task and I gave it up. I turned to him with a smile and finished, 'To tell you the truth we don't do it because it is useful but because it's amusing.' The answer was thought of and given in a moment: it came from deep down in my mind, and the results were as admirable from my point of view as unexpected. My audience was clearly on my side. Prolonged and hearty applause greeted my confession. My questioner retired shaking his head over my wickedness and the newspapers next day, with obvious approval, came out with headlines 'Scientist Does It Because It's Amusing!' And if that is not the best reason why a scientist should do his work, I want to know what is. Would it be any good to ask a mother what practical use her baby is? That, as I say, was the first evening I ever spent in the United States and from that moment I felt at home. I realised that all talk about science purely for its practical and wealth-producing results is as idle in this country as in England. Practical results will follow right enough. No real knowledge is sterile. The most useless investigation may prove to have the most startling practical importance: Wireless telegraphy might not yet have come if Clerk Maxwell had been drawn away from his obviously 'useless' equations to do something of more practical importance. Large branches of chemistry would have remained obscure had Willard Gibbs not spent his time at mathematical calculations which only about two men of his generation could understand. With this trust in the ultimate usefulness of all real knowledge a man may proceed to devote himself to a study of first causes without apology, and without hope of immediate return.

I'm renowned within the ton as being cool under fire- around you, I'm never cool. I'm heated- I seethe- I burn with desire. If I'm in the same room, all I can think about is heat- your heat- and how you'll feel around me." Patience felt the heat rise, a real force between them. "I've gained the reputation of being the soul of discretion- now look at me. I've seduced my godmother's niece- and been seduced by her. I share her bed openly, even under my godmother's roof." His lips twisted wryly. "So much for discretion." He drew a deep breath; his chest brushed her breasts. "And as for my vaunted, up-until-you 'legendary' control- the instant I'm inside you that evaporates like water on hot steel." What prompted her Patience never knew. His lips were so close- with her teeth, she nipped the lower. "I told you to let go- I won't break." The tension, pouring off him in waves, eased, just a little. He sighed, and rested his forehead on hers. "I don't like losing control- it's like losing myself- in you." She felt him gather himself, felt the tension swell and coalesce about them. "It's giving myself to you- so that I'm in your keeping." The words, low and gravelly, rolled through her; closing her eyes, she drew in a shallow breath. "And you don't like doing that." "I don't like it- but I crave it. I don't approve of it, yet I yearn for it." His words feathered her cheek, then his lips touched hers. "Do you understand? I haven't any choice." Patience felt his chest swell as he drew a deep breath. "I love you." She shivered, eyes shut tight, and felt the world shift about her. "Losing myself in you- giving my heart and soul into your keeping- is part of that." His lips brushed hers in an inexpressibly tender caress. "Trusting you is part of that. Telling you I love you is part of that." His lips touched hers; Patience didn't wait for more. She kissed him. Letting go of the post, she slid her hands up, framing his face, so she could let him know- let him feel- her response to all he'd said. He felt it, sensed it- and reacted; his arms locked tight about her. She couldn't breathe, but she didn't care. All she cared about was the emotion that held them, that flowed so effortlessly between them. Silver and gold, it wound about them, investing each touch with its magic. Silver and gold, it shimmered about them, and quivered in their fractured breaths. It was immediate compulsion and future promise, heavenly delight and earthly pleasure. It was here and now- and forever.

It was marijuana that drew the line between us and them, that bright generational line between the cool and the uncool. My timidity about pot, as I first encountered it in Hawaii, vanished when, a few months later, during my first year of high school, it hit Woodland Hills. We scored our first joints from a friend of Pete's. The quality of the dope was terrible -- Mexican rag weed, people called it -- but the quality of the high was so wondrous, so nerve-end-opening, so cerebral compared to wine's effects, that I don't think we ever cracked another Purex jug. The laughs were harder and finer. And music that had been merely good, the rock and roll soundtrack of our lives, turned into rapture and prophecy. Jimi Hendrix, Dylan, the Doors, Cream, late Beatles, Janis Joplin, the Stones, Paul Butterfield -- the music they were making, with its impact and beauty amplified a hundredfold by dope, became a sacramental rite, simply inexplicable to noninitiates. And the ceremonial aspects of smoking pot -- scoring from the million-strong network of small-time dealers, cleaning "lids," rolling joints, sneaking off to places (hilltops, beaches, empty fields) where it seemed safe to smoke, in tight little outlaw groups of three or four, and then giggling and grooving together -- all of this took on a strong tribal color. There was the "counterculture" out in the greater world, with all its affinities and inspirations, but there were also, more immediately, the realignments in our personal lives. Kids, including girls, who were "straight" became strangers. What the hell was a debutante, anyway? As for adults -- it became increasingly difficult not to buy that awful Yippie line about not trusting anyone over thirty. How could parents, teachers, coaches, possibly understand the ineluctable weirdness of every moment, fully perceived? None of them had been out on Highway 61.

Control Find the genetic code for control and rewrite it. Act your way to new thinking. Short, early conversations make efficient work. Use “I intend to . . .” to turn passive followers into active leaders. Resist the urge to provide solutions. Eliminate top-down monitoring systems. Think out loud (both superiors and subordinates). Embrace the inspectors. Competence Take deliberate action. We learn (everywhere, all the time). Don’t brief, certify. Continually and consistently repeat the message. Specify goals, not methods. Clarity Achieve excellence, don’t just avoid errors. Build trust and take care of your people. Use your legacy for inspiration. Use guiding principles for decision criteria. Use immediate recognition to reinforce desired behaviors. Begin with the end in mind. Encourage a questioning attitude over blind obedience.

I don’t know much about your kind, but I know that a snake’s egg will grow too quickly and die if they’re too hot. Your palace doctor has confirmed that your young are the same way. That being so, imagine a serpiente child growing in an avian womb; it would never survive.” Without waiting for me to acknowledge whether I understood, she concluded, “Apparently you’re both human enough to breed together. Your mate’s body is adapting itself to take care of your child. She will be weak for a while, but otherwise she appears healthy. You may see her in a couple of days.” “Days?” “I’ve been a doctor since before you were born, and that gives me the right to be blunt,” Betsy said. “She needs a few days without excitement while her system is getting used to the changes. Having you in her bedroom is not going to help her rest.” Again I grudgingly accepted the doctor’s orders, though I hoped that Danica would argue once she woke. “Andreios, you’ll make sure he does as he’s told?” Betsy appealed to the crow. Rei answered immediately, “You know I would never let anyone do anything that would endanger my queen.” Betsy frowned. “You’ve spent too much time with serpents for me to trust that means you’ll obey my orders,” she said. “I’ll wash my hands of it until she has the sense to return to the Keep. Just make sure she is allowed to rest. I will stay in serpiente lands until she is well enough to travel, in case complications arise. Zane, your associates assured me a room in the palace.” I nodded. “Of course.” I wasn’t overly fond of the doctor right then, but that wasn’t really her fault. Avians, and their fixation on decorum and respectability, sent me to the brink of insanity almost daily.

I was careful to take my next breath through my mouth. I didn’t want Quinn-sniff to influence my already wino impaired brain function. A little voice in the back of my head said: don’t trust him! You’re not special! You’re weird and awkward and a big-headed Neanderthal freak with Medusa hair!!! He’s confused you with someone else!!!! Almost immediately I told that voice to go eat shit and die.

Changing your immediate environment can be an important step to building confidence and trust within yourself. It can also be very empowering, because it enhances your sense of organization and self-control and lets you know you have choices. You may not be able to change an entire room at once (or your entire self) but little things add up to a big difference. If there are people close to you, you might enlist their help in executing your plan, if it seems appropriate. But be careful not to let them make your decisions for you—this is your choice, and it is important for you to keep it your own. At any rate, don’t be impatient, or you could become overwhelmed. Instead, make one or two meaningful changes at a time.

Like everything, there’s a pain period when you step out of your comfort zone. And just when it seems toughest, and you most want to give up (because it’s too much time/work/energy, because you don’t understand it, because you don’t trust it), if you push through that moment, immediately afterward you break free and it becomes a habit that you feel you’ve been doing all your life (and know you should have been doing all your life).

Video Marketing Strategy for Promoting Business Any marketing strategy should have a clear result. Video marketing is no different. Simply saying you want more views or impressions is fine, but it doesn't really measure how successful a video is or how you're going to get it. The first thing you need to consider when setting goals for your video marketing strategy is whether your video idea is on-brand. If you've established a brand of being calm and meditative, you don't want to make a video that's suddenly quirky and quirky. This will immediately drive people away from your brand and cause them to not trust what you say, even if your next video is back in form. Any goal that you set for yourself should be specific and attainable within a given time frame. You don't want to set a vague goal and then burn out within a week. Another thing to consider is who your target audience will be. If you're already creating written content, such as blogs, newsletters, and so on, you should have a pretty good idea of ​​who that is already. If you're just starting out, take some time and see who you want to consume your content. If you're still not sure what type of video marketing material you want to create, or if you're not sure whether you want to create your own video, we're at a marketing agency in Utah to help you. Contact us here to schedule a consultation so we can help you create a video marketing plan that will appeal to your target audience.

DBT posits that borderline patients possess a genetic/biological vulnerability to emotional overreactivity. This view hypothesizes that the limbic system, the part of the brain most closely associated with emotional responses, is hyperactive in BPD. The second contributing factor, according to DBT practitioners, is an invalidating environment: that is, others dismiss, contradict, or reject the developing individual’s emotions. Confronted with such interactions, the individual is unable to trust others or her own reactions. Emotions are uncontrolled and volatile. To calm these erratic emotions, DBT emphasizes mindfulness, the process of paying attention to what is happening at the moment, without extreme emotional reactivity, judgment, or invalidation. In the initial stages of treatment, DBT focuses on a hierarchical system of targets, confronting first the most serious and then later the easier behaviors to change. The highest priority addressed immediately is the threat of suicide and self-injuring behaviors. The second-highest target is to eliminate behaviors that interfere with therapy, such as missed appointments or not completing homework assignments. The third priority is to address behaviors that interfere with a healthy quality of life, such as disruptive compulsions, promiscuity, or criminal conduct; among these, easier changes are targeted first. The fourth priority is to focus on increasing behavioral skills.

I hate this.' 'Hate what?' I asked, confused. Hawke didn't respond immediately. 'I hate talking to the veil.' 'Oh.' Understanding rippled through me as I reached up and touched the length that hid my hair. 'I imagine most people don't enjoy it.' 'I can't imagine you do.' 'I don't.' I admitted and then glanced around the room as if I expected Priestess Analia to be hiding somewhere. 'I mean, I'd prefer if people were able to see me.' He tilted his head to the side. 'What does it feel like?' Air hitched in my throat. No one... no one had ever asked me that before, and while I had a lot of thoughts and feelings about the veil, I wasn't sure how to put them into words even though I trusted Hawke. Some things, once spoken, were given a life of their own. ... 'It feels suffocating.' Hawke drew closer. 'Then why do you wear it?' 'I didn't realise I had a choice.' I looked up at him. 'You have a choice now.' He knelt in front of me. 'It's just you and me, walls, and a pathetically inadequate supply of furniture.' My lips twitched. 'Do you wear your veil when you're with Tawny?' he asked. I shook my head no. 'Then why are you wearing it now?' 'Because... I'm allowed to be without my veil with her.' 'I was told that you were supposed to be veiled at all times, even with those approved to see you.' He was, of course, correct. Hawke arched a brow. I sighed. 'I don't wear my veil when I'm in my room, and I don't expect anyone to come in other than Tawny. And I don't wear it then because I feel... more in control. I can make-' 'The choice not to wear it?' he finished for me. Nodding, I was more than a little stunned that he'd nailed it. 'You have a choice now.' 'I do.' But it was hard to explain that the veil also served as a barrier. With it, I remembered what I was, and the importance of that. Without it, well, it was easy to want... to simply want.

Have a Profession, Not a Job Everyone except trust fund babies and perennial welfare recipients need to work.  It is an unavoidable fact of life that if you don't want to be homeless, go hungry, constantly beg, or wish to have any semblance of a normal, healthy financial life you need to work.  But in the fact work traditionally consumes half of your waking life (more if you include commute), if your job has a point and purpose to it, then so too does your life.  This isn't to say there is anything wrong with being a general laborer, a barista, or a fast food worker.  We all start somewhere and these low-skilled, entry level jobs are a vital part of the economy and a starting point in everyone's working career.  But if you take the time to learn a skill, develop a trade, or earn an employable degree, you can have a profession, not merely a job.  This confers upon you and your life immediate purpose and value as now you get to declare yourself as an individual with a specific skill. “I'm a plumber.” “I'm a CPA.” “I'm a cop.” Or “I'm a programmer.” And this statement declares how you contribute to the economy, how you earn your keep in this society, and is usually the first thing people ask about you – what do you do? Furthermore, as it just so happens, being a professional pays more.  Admittedly, it takes some training and education, and for some particularly prestigious professions it can take years (for example, being a surgeon).  But if you go that extra mile and invest in yourself a year or eight to develop a skill or a trade, the remaining 50-60 years of your life will not only be more profitable, but will give you purpose and meaning for your entire working career.

That had been one of those life-changing moments, a psychological cataclysm, when the trauma of betrayal imprints on the psyche in a way that changes one’s responses to the world forever. I imagined Charles’s brain feverishly rewiring as he lay in bed, morbid and petrified. And the end result: a new association immediately and irrevocably attached to love. Fear. There’s no trauma that affects one quite like betrayal. The aftermath is sort of a relationship PTSD, a fear that now defies all logic, infuses every thought, and generalizes to all women. To survive, Charles rationalized an excuse to avoid the truth: “I’m not good at approaching women, I get too jittery. I still don’t really trust them. I decided they were all duplicitous.” “When did you begin to sexualize being cheated on?

If you have to convince someone to love you, then they don’t love you. If you have to cajole someone into respecting you, then they will never respect you. If you have to convince someone to trust you, then they won’t actually trust you. The most precious and important things in life are, by definition, nontransactional. And to try to bargain for them is to immediately destroy them.

I don’t trust mercenaries,” Adara said. “Too often they can be bought by your enemies.” Thomas, Christian, and Phantom laughed at that. “Trust me, my lady,” Christian said, “no one could ever buy their loyalty.” “Many a dead man has made the same claim,” Lutian said from his end of the table. Thomas made a tsking noise. “He’s right about that. I trust Ioan, but some of his men—” “Will die if they betray us,” Phantom said menacingly. He pulled his knife out of the table from where he had embedded it and tested the edge against his fingers. “I’ve sent many a man to his grave for lesser things.” His eerie gaze became intense, almost mad-looking. “Death to any who betray our kinship.” “Aye,” Christian agreed. Suddenly he grimaced, then gasped as if his shoulder were paining him again. Adara went to him immediately. “You should return to bed.” He nodded. “I’ll rest tonight, but we have much to do come morning.” She couldn’t believe he would even suggest such a thing. “Why not stay here a few days so that you can recover?” Christian rubbed his shoulder. “The assassins sent after us won’t wait and I’ve no wish to see the monks here endangered in my fight. Not to mention they wouldn’t think kindly on an army being amassed on holy property.” Her husband did have a point. The Church did tend to frown on warfare. “I still think you need to rest.” He smiled at that as if it amused him. “Good night,” Christian said before he turned and left. Adara followed him. She didn’t speak until he was back in his room, getting into bed. “I’m sorry that I caused your wounds, Christian.” “You didn’t cause my wounds, Adara,” he said as he lay down. “The men wielding swords did that.” -Adara, Christian, Lutian, Thomas, & Phantom

That’s very trusting.” Iris watches Anke search our backpacks. “We’re saving people’s lives. We thought we could be,”Anke says. I’m more fixated on her arm in my backpack than on what she’s saying, though. That bag is nearly empty, but it’s mine. She’s messing it up. Her hands might not even be clean. When she does stop, I immediately wish she hadn’t. “Denise,” she says, “I need to search your bed next.” My gaze flicks to my pillow. “I. I. Could I.” “She doesn’t like people touching her bed.” Iris stands, guarding me. “You’re touching it,” Captain Van Zand’s brother says. Iris shoots him a withering look. “I sat at the foot, which is the only place that’s OK for even me to touch, and I’m her sister.” Anke’s sigh sounds closer to a hiss. “Look, we have more rooms to search.” I squirm. No. Not squirm. I’m rocking. Back and forth. “Wait,” I say. “You can’t—” Iris goes on. “Just ’cause she’s too precious to—” the man argues. “Wait,” I repeat, softer this time, so soft that I’m not even sure Iris hears it. “Can I, can I just, wait. I can lift the sheets and mattress myself. You can look. Right? Is that good? Right? Is that good? If I lift them?” I force my jaw shut. No one says anything for several moments. I can’t tell if Anke is thinking of a counterargument or if she really is trying to make this work. Her lips tighten. “OK. If you listen to my instructions exactly.” “You’re indulging her?” Captain Van Zand’s brother says. “She’s just being difficult. Have you ever seen an autistic kid? Trust me, they’re not the kind to take water scooters into the city like she did.” “Denise, just get it done,” Anke snaps. I don’t stand until they’re far enough away from the bed, as if they might jump at me and touch the bed themselves regardless. I blink away tears. It’s dumb, I know that—I’m treating Anke’s hands like some kind of nuclear hazard—but this is my space, mine, and too little is left that’s mine as is. I can’t even face Iris. With the way she tried to help, it feels as though I’m betraying her by offering this solution myself. I keep my head low and follow Anke’s orders one-handed. Take off both the satin and regular pillowcases, show her the pillow, shake it (although I tell her she can feel the pillow herself: that’s OK, since the pillowcases will cover it again anyway)—lift the sheets, shake them, lift the mattress long enough for her to shine her light underneath, let her feel the mattress (which is OK, too, since she’s just touching it from the bottom) . . . They tell us to stay in our room for another hour. I wash my hands, straighten the sheets, wash my hands again, and wrap the pillow in its cases. “That was a good solution,” Iris says. “Sorry,” I mutter. “For what?” Being difficult. Not letting her help me. I keep my eyes on the sheets as I make the bed and let out a small laugh.

Professor Craig Franklin of the University of Queensland mounted a crocodile research partnership with Steve. The idea was to fasten transmitters and data loggers on crocs to record their activity in their natural environment. But in order to place the transmitters, you had to catch the crocs first, and that’s where Steve’s expertise came in. Steve never felt more content than when he was with his family in the bush. “There’s nothing more valuable than human life, and this research will help protect both crocs and people,” he told us. The bush was where Steve felt most at home. It was where he was at his best. On that one trip, he caught thirty-three crocs in fourteen days. He wanted to do more. “I’d really like to have the capability of doing research on the ocean as well as in the rivers,” he told me. “I could do so much more for crocodiles and sharks if I had a purpose-built research vessel.” I could see where he was heading. I was not a big fan of boats. “I’m going to contact a company in Western Australia, in Perth,” he said. “I’m going to work on a custom-built research vessel.” As the wheels turned in his mind, he became more and more excited. “The sky’s the limit, mate,” he said. “We could help tiger sharks and learn why crocs go out to sea. There is no reason why we couldn’t help whales, too.” “Tell me how we can help whales,” I said, expecting to hear about a research project that he and Craig had in mind. “It will be great,” he said. “We’ll build a boat with an icebreaking hull. We’ll weld a can opener to the front, and join Sea Shepherd in Antarctica to stop those whaling boats in their tracks.” When we got back from our first trip to Cape York Peninsula with Craig Franklin, Steve immediately began drawing up plans for his boat. He wanted to make it as comfortable as possible. As he envisioned it, the boat would be somewhere between a hard-core scientific research vessel and a luxury cruiser. He designed three berths, a plasma screen television for the kids, and air-conditioned comfort below deck. He placed a big marlin board off the back, for Jet Skis, shark cages, or hauling out huge crocs. One feature that he was really adamant about was a helicopter pad. He designed the craft so that the helicopter could land on the top. Steve’s design plans went back and forth to Perth for months. “I want this boat’s primary function to be crocodile research and rescue work,” Steve said. “So I’m going to name her Croc One.” “Why don’t we call it For Sale instead?” I suggested. I’m not sure Steve saw the humor in that. Croc One was his baby. But for some reason, I felt tremendous trepidation about this boat. I attributed my feelings of concern to Bindi and Robert. Anytime you have kids on a boat, the rules change--no playing hide-and-seek, no walking on deck without a life jacket on. It made me uncomfortable to think about being two hundred miles out at sea with two young kids. We had had so many wild adventures together as a family that, ultimately, I had to trust Steve. But my support for Croc One was always, deep down, halfhearted at best. I couldn’t shake my feeling of foreboding about it.

Are you certain you’re unharmed?” he asked as the carriage surged into motion. “My nerves are a little rattled, as can be expected, but other than that, I’m fine.” She caught his eye. “I’m incredibly grateful that you and everyone else worked so hard to find me, and were able to rid me of Silas once and for all.” A smile tugged at her lips. “I’m sure after a few weeks have passed, or . . . maybe a few years, when it’s not so very fresh to me, I’ll be able to laugh about it and tell people I was able to participate in my very own gothic-style story, quite like one our favorite author, Mr. Grimstone, might pen.” The mention of Mr. Grimstone had him leaning forward. “We have much to discuss.” Lucetta immediately took to looking wary. “Why do I have the feeling we’re no longer talking about me and . . . my abduction?” “Because we need to talk about us, and talk about where we go from here before we get back to Abigail’s house and everyone distracts us.” Lucetta’s wariness immediately increased. “I’m not certain there’s any need for that, Bram. The danger to me has passed, which means I’m free to return to the theater, and . . . you and I are free to go on our merry ways—and our separate merry ways, at that.” Bram settled back against the carriage seat. “I never took you for a coward, Lucetta.” Temper flashed in her eyes. “I’m not a coward.” “Then why aren’t you willing to at least see where whatever this is between us leads?” “There’s nothing between us.” “Your lips said differently a few days ago, and . . . you enjoy my company—you can’t deny that.” “Perhaps I do enjoy your company, but we’ll leave my lips out of further discussion, if you please. The truth of the matter is that I don’t trust you, I don’t like secrets, which you’re obviously keeping, and . . . I have no desire to become attached to a gentleman who spends time in a dungeon, of all places, and has a mausoleum marking the entrance to his drive.” “Ah, well, yes, but you see, those are some of the things I’d like to discuss with you.” He sent her what he hoped was a most charming smile, but one that only had her arching a brow his way again. Clearing his throat, he sat forward. “To continue, I have to admit that I’ve thought out my explanation regarding all of the things I need to explain in a certain order. So . . . if you’ll humor me, I wrote down a list, and . . .” Digging a hand into his jacket pocket, he pulled out the list and read it through, nodding before he lifted his head. “First, I need to say that—” he blew out a breath—“I’ve bungled practically everything with you so far, starting when I almost drowned you in the moat, er . . . twice.” “You won’t get an argument from me on that.” “I neglected to warn you about my goat.” Her lips twitched right at the corners. “That might be being a little hard on yourself, Bram. You couldn’t have known someone would turn Geoffrey loose on me up in the tower room.” “True, but I should have mentioned that I owned a goat with a curious dislike for ladies in skirts.” “I don’t believe Geoffrey is really at the root of the issues I have with you and Ravenwood, Bram.” He caught her eye and nodded. “I’m at the root of your issues, Lucetta—me and all of my secrets—which is why . . .” He consulted his notes again before he lifted his head. “I’m going to tell you everything, and then . . . ” He glanced one last time at his notes before he looked her way. “After you hear me out, I’d greatly appreciate it if you’d consider allowing me to . . . court you.” “Court me?” She began inching toward the carriage door, which was rather disturbing considering the carriage was traveling at a fast clip down the road. Stiffening his resolve, and ignoring the disbelief in her eyes, he nodded. “It would be my greatest honor to court you, especially since I should have asked to court you before I kissed you, and certainly before I offered to marry you . . . twice.” “You

Hey,” he said. She turned around and, as quickly, turned back. There had been tears on her face. He frowned. What was this? Trouble in paradise? “Hey,” he said, walking up behind her, squeezing her upper arm with his left hand. “What’s going on?” he asked her. “Nothing,” she said with a sniff. He turned her around to face him. He looked down at her pretty face and for the hundredth time thought, that damn Preacher. I bet he doesn’t know what he has here. “This isn’t nothing,” he said, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I can’t talk about it,” she said. “Sure you can. Seems like maybe you’d better. You’re all upset.” “I’ll work it out.” “Preacher do something to hurt you?” She immediately started to cry and leaned forward, her head falling on his chest. He put his good arm around her and said, “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay.” “It’s not okay,” she cried. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” “Maybe if you talk to me, I can help. I’m so good with free advice, you’ll be impressed.” “It’s just that...I care about him. But he just doesn’t find me...” Mike lifted her chin. “What, Paige?” “He doesn’t find me attractive.” “Bull.” “Desirable.” “Paige, that’s nonsense. The way he looks at you, he eats you with his eyes. He’s wacko for you.” “He won’t touch me,” she said, a large tear spilling over. That almost knocked Mike down. “No way.” She nodded pathetically. “Oh, man,” Mike said. He’d thought, everyone thought, they were doing it all night long. The way they looked at each other, like they couldn’t wait for everyone to leave so they could be alone, get it on. Those sweet little kisses on the cheek, the forehead. The way they touched—careful, so no one would see the sparks fly, but the sparks were flying all over this bar! The sexual tension was electric. “Oh, man,” he said again. He put his arm around her. “Paige, he wants you. Wants you so bad it’s showing all over him.” “Then why?” “I don’t know, honey. Preacher’s strange. He’s never been good with women, you know? When we served together, we all managed to find us a woman somewhere. I killed two marriages that way. But not Preacher. It was very rare for him to—” He stopped himself. He was trying to remember—were there women at all? He wasn’t sure; he knew Preacher never had a steady girl. He thought he remembered a woman here, there. It’s not as though he was focused on Preacher’s love life; he was too busy taking care of his own. He probably lacks sexual confidence, Mike thought. It would be hard for him to put the moves on anyone he felt he had to win over. “I bet he’s scared,” Mike heard himself say. “How can he be? I’ve practically thrown myself at him! He knows he isn’t going to face rejection!” She dropped her gaze, lowered her voice to a whisper. “He has to know how much I—” “Oh, brother,” Mike said. “I bet he’s not worried about rejection. Aw, Paige, Preacher’s so shy, sometimes it’s just plain ridiculous. But I promise you, Paige, I’ve known the man a long time—” “He said he’d trust you with his life. That he has...” “Yeah, we have that, it’s true. It’s funny with men—you can trust each other with your lives and never talk about anything personal, you know? Sometimes Preacher seems a little naive in the ways of the world.

Before our faces could touch I was yanked back and thrown over Chase’s shoulder as he yelled for the beer pong game to start. “CHASE! Put me down!” I couldn’t even enjoy the fact that his hands were touching my bare thighs. He’d just stopped what could have been my first kiss, and his shoulder was really uncomfortable against my stomach. “No way! The Princess needs her throne!” I started beating my fists on his back, which just made him laugh harder and smack my butt. Ugh, this was the worst position to be in, I couldn’t even get a good pressure point to hit. “If you don’t put me down I will make good on my previous threat!” He laughed for another few seconds before remembering the night in his bed, immediately his laughter stopped and I was set down. But of course, I couldn’t have the last word. Gripping my arm firmly, he pulled me towards the front door before bringing me close to his body so he could whisper roughly in my ear. “I don’t want you with him.” He growled and his grip tightened. Gah, even that sent shivers of pleasure through me. “What is your deal with him? Is there something he did that you’d like to share?” “He’s not good enough for you.” I shook my head and failed at yanking my arm free, it was starting to get painful. “How do you know what is and isn’t good for me? You don’t even know me!” I hissed. Warm hands were on my shoulders then, and though he dropped my arm, Chase looked more pissed off than he had before. I knew he’d been gripping me tight, but my arm was now throbbing where his hand had just been. “I thought I told you to back off man?” Chase’s voice got louder, I swear I could practically see his feathers ruffle. I could tell Brandon was standing in an intimidating stance, but he seemed perfectly at ease making soothing trails up and down my arms. “I don’t really think that’s up to you.” Chase looked at me softly, his voice still harsh, “You hurt her, I swear to God I’ll break your neck.” With that, he pushed past us and went back toward the kitchen. That was a little much. “Ridiculous.” I blew out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and turned to look at Brandon. “Before you ask, I have absolutely no idea.” He laughed and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close to his chest. “And you’re sure nothing’s going on between you?” “Positive. He probably just views me as his sister, so he’s a little protective.” “Hah! I’m pretty sure he doesn’t see you like he sees Bree.” “What do you mean?” I didn’t think it was possible, but somehow his voice got even lower and all I wanted to do was close my eyes and listen to him talk. “You’re gorgeous, funny and just all around amazing. And what makes it worse is that you don’t even see it. All the guys had been talking about you before I even got here, and after today, I see why.” “No they weren’t Brandon.” I rolled my eyes. He raised his eyebrow and smirked, “I wouldn’t lie to you. Harper, trust me when I say he doesn’t want to be your brother, but I’m not about to let him try to be anything else.” His

When Pestonjee died in November 1962 his son Minoo took over the management. And the business gradually wound up for good. Unlike Pestonjee, who had started his life with nothing, Minoo was born in the lap of luxury – the type who can turn into a spoiled brat. Pestonjee knew his son well and left the management of only the Patna dairy to him. The management of Anand dairy went to Pestonjee’s son-in-law, Lt Col. Kothawala. One day Minoo came to me and said: ‘If you want to ruin anything, ruin the Anand dairy. Don’t touch the Patna dairy because that one is mine.’ The statement revealed the kind of man he was. Periodically, Minoo would discuss the sale of the Anand dairy with me. One day he told me that he had spoken to the board and this time he was absolutely serious about selling the dairy. I spoke to our board members, who agreed that we should buy it, and a price was decided. Then Minoo backed out. He came a second time, again offering to sell. Once more I got the board’s approval to buy the dairy and again he backed out. When Minoo came to me for the third time wanting to sell the dairy, I ordered him to get out of my room. I told him that if he was serious he should bring his entire board to Anand to meet and talk with our board. He brought his entire board – a very distinguished board – and we discussed the sale and the deal was clinched at Rs 17 lakh. The next day, Minoo sold the same dairy to a Marwari gentleman for Rs 17 lakh and, some said, took another Rs 17 lakh under the table for himself. The board of directors of Polson were aghast and exceedingly embarrassed. They came to see me and apologised profusely, saying that they never expected he would do something like this. The legitimate amount of Rs 17 lakh went to Polson Ltd, while it is said that the under-the-table amount went into the Devakaran Nangi Trust which later went broke. By some mysterious divine justice, Minoo lost his entire Rs 17 lakh. This was the end of Pestonjee’s legendary Polson dairy. When Minoo sold the dairy to the Marwari gentleman (who bought it only for its real estate value), the first thing the Marwari did was to order the bust of Pestonjee, which graced the entrance, to be removed and thrown out. Variava called up Kothawala to inform him of this and he immediately telephoned me to say: ‘Dr Kurien, can you please save my father-in-law’s bust from being disgraced?’ I promised him that I would and it has since then been given pride of place in NDDB’s library, a reminder to all of the role that Pestonjee Edulji played in the history of Indian dairying.

He found her in her private sitting room and closed the door behind him before she even rose to offer him a curtsy. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. She stiffened immediately. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she retorted, turning away her face when he tried to kiss her. “You don’t want me holding you?” he asked, kissing her cheek anyway. “I don’t want you closing the door, taking liberties, and bothering me,” she said through clenched teeth. He dropped his arms and eyed her curiously. “What is it?” “What is what?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You were willing enough to be bothered last night, Anna Seaton, and it is perfectly acceptable that your employer might want to have a word or two with you privately. Dev said he saw you and Morgan in heated discussion after lunch. Is something troubling you? Those confidences you referred to last night, perhaps?” “I should not have trusted you with even that much of a disclosure,” Anna said, uncrossing her arms. “You know I intend to seek another position, my lord. I wonder if you’ve written out that character you promised me?” “I have. Because Val has yet to return, it remains in my desk. You gave me your word we would have the rest of the summer, Anna. Are you dishonoring that promise so soon?” She turned away from him, which was answer enough for Westhaven. “I am still here.” “Anna…” He stole up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I am not your enemy.” She nodded once, then turned in his arms and buried her face against his throat. “I’m just… upset.” “A lady’s prerogative,” he murmured, stroking her back.

Looking at him like he’d grown another head, she raised her hands up as she asked, “Don’t you have some other girl you want to harass? Maybe a girl who would actually appreciate it?” “Nope. You are the only girl I want to harass.” Which was the truth. Since he’d met Deanna, no other woman had existed for him. If he wasn’t with her, he was thinking about her. When he was with her, he wanted to stay with her, get to know her—and not only in the biblical sense, but that was definitely on top of his list. More attendees started filing out of the double doors, and Deanna’s head fell back as she let out a small groan. She might not have meant for the gesture to be or sound sexual, but that’s exactly what it’d been. He wanted to lean forward and press his lips to the soft skin on her neck, slide his hands up her dress and find out if she was wearing lace panties, silk panties, or no panties… “You win.You can drive me home.” She sounded anything but happy at her acquiescence, but Lucky was happy…Very happy. Well, this night had gone from bad, to worse, to horrible, to just plain humiliating. As Lucky opened the passenger side door to his SUV and held her hand while she got in, she immediately sent up a silent prayer that he didn’t notice the way a shiver ran up her arm from the touch of his large, rough hands. Deanna took a deep breath and pushed down the frustration and panic that was battling inside of her for top billing. Once he shut the door, she tugged her skirt down. When he got in, the entire left side of her body broke out in goosebumps from the intense stare he directed at her, but she kept her eyes trained ahead, looking out the windshield. She sat with her jaw set, her hands folded in her lap, and her back straight, hoping to convey that she just wanted to go home. “You’re quiet,” Lucky observed as they drove out of the parking lot. Proving his point, Deanna continued focusing out the window, at the moonlight dancing off the river. She knew she was being rude. She was a little too emotional and didn’t trust herself to speak. Especially considering the six glasses of wine she’d had this evening. Loose lips sank ships, and alcohol made her one Chatty Cathy capable of taking down an armada of ocean liners. “How was your evening tonight, Lucky?” he asked himself before answering his own question. “Oh, it was great, actually. Thanks for asking.” Deanna bit her lips to keep from smiling. She should’ve been annoyed at his adolescent behavior, and if it were any other guy, she was sure she would’ve been. But this was Lucky. And, whether she liked it or not (which, for the record, she didn’t), what should’ve been annoying or irritating on him always landed in the charming and amusing columns. “Of course!” he replied enthusiastically, still talking to himself. “I’m so glad you had a good time! What was the highlight of your evening, if you don’t mind me asking?” If he kept going, she was going to start cracking up, so she worked to maintain her composure. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Which she was fully aware made her behavior even more adolescent than his. She was being ridiculous. Still, trying to disguise her amusement, Deanna sighed. “Fine. You win again. What do you want to talk about?” Lucky shook his head as he clicked his tongue. “Sorry, Pop-Tart. You had your chance.” Pop-Tart? Had he seriously just called her Pop-Tart!? Before she was able to form an appropriately indignant response, he continued the conversation he was having with himself. “Wow. Highlight of my evening…” He hissed through his teeth. “That’s a tough one. I’m going to have to go with the dance that I had with this smokin’-hot brunette.” Her cheeks burned at his description. Then she tried to remind herself that he was joking around, but the message got to her head and, she feared, her heart too late.

There are only two distinctions between anybody in this room and an institutionalized schizophrenic: (1) whether you have a good reality strategy and you can make that distinction, and (2) whether the content of your hallucination is socially acceptable or not. Because you all hallucinate. You all hallucinate that somebody's in a good mood or a bad mood, for example. Sometimes it really is an accurate representation of what you are getting from the outside, but sometimes it's a response to your own internal state. And if it's not there, sometimes you can induce it. "Is something wrong?" "What is bothering you?" "Now I don't want you to worry about anything that happened today while you were gone." Drinking blood in this culture is not acceptable. I've lived in cultures where that's fine. The Masai, in Eastern Africa, sit around and drink cups of blood all the time. No problem. It would be weird in their culture for somebody to say "I can see that you are feeling very bad about what I just said." They would begin to wonder about you. But in this culture it's reversed. When we trained residents in mental hospitals we used to go up early and spend time in the wards because the patients there had problems we never had the opportunity to encounter before. We would give them the task of determining for themselves which parts of their experience were validated by other people, and which were not. For instance, with the cup-of-blood guy, we immediately joined his reality. "Yeah, warm this one up for me, will you?" We joined his reality so much that he came to trust us. And then we gave him the task of discovering which parts of his reality other people in the ward could validate for him. We didn't say this was really here and that wasn't, but simply asked him to determine which parts of his reality other people could share. And then he learned - as most of us have as children - to talk about those parts of reality which are either socially acceptable hallucinations, or that other people are willing to see and hear and feel, too. That's all he needed to get out of the hospital. He's doing fine. He still drinks cups of blood, but he does it by himself. Most psychotics don't have a way of making distinctions between what's shared reality and what's not. (...) I've made a lot of jokes about the way humanistic psychologists treat each other when they get together. They have many social rituals that did not exist when i worked at an electronics corporation. The corporation people didn't come in the morning and hold each other's hands and look meaningfully into each other's eyes for five and a half minutes. Now, when somebody at the corporation sees somebody do that, they go "Urrrrhhh! Weird!" And the people in humanistic psychology circles think the corporation people are cold and insensitive and inhuman. To me, they are both psychotic realities, and I'm not sure which one is crazier. And if you think about shared realities, the corporation people are in the majority! (...) Therapists feel letters. I don't think that's any more peculiar than drinking cups of blood. Everywhere I go, people tell me they feel O and K. That's pretty weird. Or you ask people "how do you feel?" and they say "Not bad." Think about that for a moment. That's a very profound statement. "I feel not bad." That's not a feeling. Neither is "OK.

Cade rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone starry-eyed, too. What is it about this guy? The half-billion dollars? The hair? Do you know that I used to get death threats from crazed, angry women calling me the Antichrist and demanding Rhodes’s immediate release from prison?” He held up his hand. “Swear to God.” “Now, that’s definitely something the Antichrist wouldn’t do. She set the open bottle of India Ink between them, on top of the wooden bistro table she had purchased the previous weekend. She’d also picked up a few planters and some flowers, transforming the deck into an urban minigarden. “I like it out here,” Kyle said, sitting back in his chair with his glass of wine. “That’s the one downside of my apartment—no outdoor living space. Trust me, you notice that quickly when serving home detention for two straight weeks.” “I’ve seen the penthouse, Dimples. I’m not exactly crying a river.” “More tough love from Prosecutrix Pierce,” he said. “Shocking.” Rylann laughed. ” ‘Prosecutrix Pierce’? Is that what you call me?” “I find it has a certain authoritative ring that suits you.

The support of her family is matched by the encouragement of the small group of friends and counsellors who see the real Diana, not the glowing image presented for public consumption. They are under no illusions that, while the Princess is a woman of considerable virtues, her character is prone to pessimism and despair, qualities which increase the likelihood of her leaving the system. The departure of the Duchess of York from the royal scene has exacerbated that defeatist side of her personality. As she has admitted to friends: “Everyone said I was the Marilyn Monroe of the 1980s and I was adoring every minute of it. Actually I’ve never sat down and said: ‘Hooray how wonderful. Never.’ The day I do we’re in trouble. I am performing a duty as the Princess of Wales as long as my time is allocated but I don’t see it any longer than fifteen years.” While she has the right to feel sorry for herself, all too often this spills over into self-imposed martyrdom. As James Gilbey says: “When she is confident she extends herself and pushes out the barriers. As soon as there is a chink in the armour she immediately retreats away from the fray.” At times it is almost as though she wants to engineer a hurt or a rejection before she is deserted by those she trusts and loves. This has resulted in her blocking out her allies at crucial periods in her royal life when she has most needed support.

A little voice in the back of my head said, Don’t trust him! You’re not special! You’re weird and awkward and a bigheaded Neanderthal freak with Medusa hair! He’s confused you with someone else! Almost immediately, I told that voice to eat shit and die.

Think about it, why do people lie? What are some of their motives? They don’t want to look stupid, they don’t want to be wrong, they don’t want to let people down, they want to keep everyone happy, they want to get what they want. All of these motives have the “self” at the center. Liars make every situation all about them. They’re not thinking about the questions, How will this impact people I care about? What will be the consequences of my lies? No, liars are very short sighted, focusing only on the immediate and easy way out of a situation. In the long run, it is impossible to have a long-term, healthy relationship built on mutual trust and honesty because liars are narcissists. They’re essentially only in a relationship with themselves. ...Instead of admitting their shortcomings, their failures – their basic humanness – they will lie in order to cover it up (and) destroy their closest relationships in the process. Liars need courage to overcome their...deceit.

Would you grant me the honor of your first dance, Lady Rose?” Can you manage it? he seemed to be asking. She looked around the ballroom once more, trying to decide what was best. She supposed she could either dance with Lord Ashton and show everyone that she was no longer an invalid . . . or she could remain in a chair beside the wall. “Only if you dance with Miss Sinclair next,” she countered with a smile of her own. It was a reasonable enough request. “If Miss Sinclair is willing, I should be very glad of her company.” He sent her a charming smile, which made Evangeline’s fan flutter faster. “Of course, I would be happy to dance with you, Lord Ashton,” the young woman agreed. Her expression turned worried, and she continued, “But as for Lady Rose, I fear that—” She stopped abruptly, and looked perplexed, as if to remind them both, She cannot walk. But the moment Iain extended his hand, Rose took it and stood slowly. He gave her a moment to steady her balance, and then she leaned against him when she took her first step. Her eyes fixed upon his with a silent plea, Keep it slow. At least then she could hide her heavy limp. She heard Evangeline give a soft gasp, and there were murmurs all around them. It took all her concentration to walk, but Rose leaned against Iain, determined to keep her balance. “There’s a lass.” He smiled at her, allowing her to set the pace. Her heart hammered faster, and she felt the eyes of every guest staring at her. Never in her life had she felt so self-conscious. Though she had longed to take her first steps with Lord Burkham at her side, now she was beginning to reconsider. Iain was the man who had helped her to walk again, and of anyone here, she trusted him not to let her stumble. He knew the limits of her endurance, and she could confess when she needed to stop and rest. “You look grand this night.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as they moved closer to the dancing. “Thank you.” She had worn a sky-blue gown with a full skirt and a lace shawl to cover her bare shoulders. It wasn’t the most fashionable gown, but her grandmother had deemed it quite appropriate for the evening. Because she expected me to remain in a chair, Rose thought. No one expected me to dance. “Do you think you can manage this?” Iain asked. His expression revealed the sincerity of a man who didn’t want her to be embarrassed. “Only if it’s a waltz.” A quick-paced dance would be quite beyond her balance. But right now, this was about proving herself to others. She wanted everyone to see that she had overcome her illness and could walk again. She took one step that was too heavy, and stumbled forward. Iain caught her immediately and halted, waiting for her to regain her balance. Her cheeks burned, and she blurted out, “I am sorry.” “Don’t be.” He brought her to the edge of the dancers, nearest to the wall. They would be away from the others, and yet, she could join in. The music shifted into a lilting waltz, and he rested his hand against her waist. “If you begin to tire, step on my feet. Your skirts will hide it, and no one will notice,” he advised. He’d

Take me to the far side of the room,” she pleaded. “Near the food and lemonade. I can pretend to be thirsty.” “And what about Burkham?” he asked. “The man is watching you.” What about the viscount indeed? she thought. He’d done nothing to catch her, but had stepped back just as she’d fallen. A twinge of resentment caught her. “I don’t want to speak with him.” Thomas should have prevented her from falling. It was almost as if he’d wanted to humiliate her. But why? And did he intend to keep his distance, behaving as if nothing had happened? A moment later, the viscount crossed the room. Immediately, Iain stepped in front of her. “Were you wanting something, Burkham?” The viscount appeared discomfited by his presence. “Ashton, if you don’t mind, I would like a word with Lady Rose.” “To apologize, you mean.” The earl’s voice held resentment, and she didn’t at all disagree. She hadn’t wanted to join in the country dance, but Lord Burkham had insisted. “I am sorry she fell. And if you wouldn’t mind giving us a moment alone . . .” “No.” Iain crossed his arms over his chest, and she nearly smiled. It looked as if he wanted to pummel the man senseless. “But I will allow you to apologize before you slither away.” Burkham cleared his throat and sidestepped so she could see his face. “Ashton is right. I do owe you an apology. I didn’t expect you to fall.” “I told you I didn’t want to dance. You wouldn’t listen.” He sent her a crooked smile, one that would have caused her heart to soften, a year ago. Now, she saw it as an empty gesture. “Forgive me. I was jealous of Ashton because I thought we had agreed you would save the first dance for me.” Jealousy would imply that he actually cared about her, and she simply didn’t believe it. “You weren’t here.” “I was late, and that, of course, was my fault,” he finished. “But I didn’t expect to find you dancing with another man.” She gave a shrug. Of course not. Because you thought no man would want me. “Did you want to dance with Lord Ashton?” he asked. There was a thread of annoyance in his tone, one she didn’t like. “Yes,” she answered honestly. Although she’d danced with Iain primarily because of the wager she’d lost, it was also because she trusted him. He understood her limitations and hadn’t tried to push her past them. Iain went to stand beside her, and he rested his hand upon the back of her chair in a silent mark of possession. “I think you should be returning to Miss Everett now,” Iain suggested. “Be on your way.” The viscount appeared to consider it, but then Lady Castledon arrived, holding Evangeline’s hand in hers. She smiled warmly at Iain and said, “Do be a darling and dance with Miss Sinclair. I’ve told her all about you, Lord Ashton.” There was no way for him to refuse without embarrassing Evangeline, but he sent Rose a questioning look. “I will be fine,” she told him. “Go on and enjoy yourself.” Iain bowed to Evangeline and tucked her hand in his arm, but his expression held an open threat toward Lord Burkham. The

Recognize those times when it's best to do nothing. The weeks and months following a significant loss, including death, divorce, or the incapacitation of a loved one, are fraught with emotions. We typically do not make our best decisions under circumstances such as these. **Avoid the inclination to immediately put your house on the market** cash in all your savings, and move to the south of France, or trust the first person who comes along who says he or she can give you all the help you need.

focus on a problem you’ve been dealing with in your daily life; it can be any problem you want a solution too. Speak in your mind directly to your Higher Self or Guide and ask for assistance with the issue at hand. Concentrate on all aspects of the problem and what will you think might happen if the problem is not solved. If and when you receive guidance, do not doubt it. Thank the Higher Self or Guide for the assistance provided and trust it will come. Now let the problem dissolve out of your mind. If you don’t get an immediate answer, repeat the exercise until you do. You may have to wait for your vibration to be just right to tune into the Higher Self. If you do get an answer, implement it immediately. Document the answers you receive and the results.

When I turn to pull her to me, she rushes to me, and her hands immediately go for my jeans. She’s in a hurry. When I glance down, her fingers are shaking, and she won’t look up at me. She’s nervous. We can’t have that. “Sweetheart.” I catch her chin with my finger and tip her face up to look at me. “Sarah, this isn’t a race.” “Seriously, get naked, and we can get to it.” Get to it? Under normal circumstances, I would agree with her 100%. I enjoy foreplay as much as the next person, but the main event is, well, the main event. But I don’t want to rush this with her. I want to explore her, listen to her, smell her. Savor her. I grip her hands in mine and raise them to my lips, pressing a kiss to her fingers. “We’re going to get to it, trust me, but we’re going to get there slowly.” She blinks at me, as if she doesn’t understand the words coming out of my mouth. “Breathe, baby,” I whisper and kiss her forehead, her nose, her lips. I ease my body against hers and revel in the heat coming off her. She takes a deep breath, and with her eyes on mine, lifts up on her toes so she can meet my lips with hers, kissing me more lazily now, settling in to enjoy. And that’s exactly what I want her to do. Enjoy every touch, every kiss.

When Lane refused to sell to Don Tyson in 1982, Blair got creative. He bought the $10 million bond note, which was backed by Valmac’s stock. Clift Lane quickly discovered that not only did he owe an unholy amount of money, but he now owed it to Don Tyson. And Don Tyson was about as gracious about the debt as Lane expected: He immediately tried to foreclose on him. By calling in the loan, Don Tyson would win ownership of the stock that backed it, giving him de facto ownership of the company. Lane fought the foreclosure in court, then stealthily flew to North Carolina and declared bankruptcy, defaulting on the $10 million bond. Blair argued in court that Tyson should still have rights to Valmac, but Lane managed to sell the company out from under them to a Texas investment firm called Bass Brothers Enterprises in 1983. Don Tyson and Jim Blair had lost the battle for Valmac. It was a defeat that lasted all of thirty days. Don scrutinized the Bass brothers’ investments and then called Jim. He thought the Basses would sell Valmac for the right price. — You know, the Bass brothers are doing a deal with Disney, and they need money. They don’t know what they’ve got here. We better buy that before they know what they’ve got. Blair was stunned when Tyson told him the offer price: $30 per share. It was more than a third higher than what the Bass brothers had paid, and nearly double the price Tyson had originally offered. Blair thought the price was far too high, and it would mire Tyson in a money-losing venture. — Trust me. I know it’s worth more than that, Don Tyson told him. Not surprisingly, Bass Brothers Enterprises was willing to let Valmac go at the seemingly exorbitant price. Don Tyson and Jim Blair flew to Fort Worth to sign the papers, closing the deal in September 1984. Don excused himself from the meeting early, leaving Blair behind to iron out the details, and took his private plane for a flying tour so he could look down on the new Valmac plants he had just acquired.

because if you don’t agree often enough with the person you’re talking to, there’ll be trouble. People will think you’re a threat. They won’t trust you. Every woman knows this. Take Lucia de B. for instance, the nurse who didn’t smile or chat with her colleagues enough: people were immediately convinced she’d murdered seven patients. Seven! To think you can get a life sentence for being socially awkward.

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And then there are others who can live with two destinations, two realities after death, but insist that there must be some kind of “second chance” for those who don’t believe in Jesus in this lifetime. In a letter Martin Luther, one of the leaders of the Protestant Reformation, wrote to Hans von Rechenberg in 1522 about the possibility that people could turn to God after death, asking: “Who would doubt God’s ability to do that?” Again, a good question. And so space is created in this “who would doubt God’s ability to do that?” perspective for all kinds of people—fifteen-year-old atheists, people from other religions, and people who rejected Jesus because the only Jesus they ever saw was an oppressive figure who did anything but show God’s love. And then there are others who ask, if you get another chance after you die, why limit that chance to a one-off immediately after death? And so they expand the possibilities, trusting that there will be endless opportunities in an endless amount of time for people to say yes to God. As long as it takes, in other words. At the heart of this perspective is the belief that, given enough time, everybody will turn to God and find themselves in the joy and peace of God’s presence. The love of God will melt every hard heart, and even the most “depraved sinners” will eventually give up their resistance and turn to God.

Among more than 11,000 long-term couples, machine learning models found that the traits listed below, in a mate, were among the least predictive of happiness with that mate. Let’s call these traits the Irrelevant Eight, as partners appear about as likely to end up happy in their relationship when they pair off with people with any combo of these traits: Race/ethnicity Religious affiliation Height Occupation Physical attractiveness Previous marital status Sexual tastes Similarity to oneself What should we make of this list, the Irrelevant Eight? I was immediately struck by an overlap between the list of irrelevant traits and another data-driven list discussed in this chapter. Recall that I had previously discussed the qualities that make people most desirable as romantic partners, according to Big Data from online dating sites. It turns out that that list—the qualities that are most valued in the dating market, according to Big Data from online dating sites—almost perfectly overlaps with the list of traits in a partner that don’t correlate with long-term relationship happiness, according to the large dataset Joel and her coauthors analyzed. Consider, say, conventional attractiveness. Beauty, you will recall, is the single most valued trait in the dating market; Hitsch, Hortaçsu, and Ariely found in their study of tens of thousands of single people on an online dating site that who receives messages and who has their messages responded to can, to a large degree, be explained by how conventionally attractive they are. But Joel and her coauthors found, in their study of more than 11,000 long-term couples, that the conventional attractiveness of one’s partner does not predict romantic happiness. Similarly, tall men, men with sexy occupations, people of certain races, and people who remind others of themselves are valued tremendously in the dating market. (See: the evidence from earlier in this chapter.) But ask thousands of long-term couples and there is no evidence that people who succeeded in pairing off with mates with these desired traits are any happier in their relationship.

It’s simple but really, really hard. Let’s look at some of these side effects. You’re going to feel uncertain; I guarantee it. “Should I really give this up? Is this the right thing to do?” Giving up a value you’ve depended on for years is going to feel disorienting, as if you don’t really know right from wrong anymore. This is hard, but it’s normal. Next, you’ll feel like a failure. You’ve spent half your life measuring yourself by that old value, so when you change your priorities, change your metrics, and stop behaving in the same way, you’ll fail to meet that old, trusted metric and thus immediately feel like some sort of fraud or nobody. This is also normal and also uncomfortable.

If we think of Kay and those kids along merely natural, Charlie, we're beaten. But don't have to think along those lines! God is God. He's asking us to believe as we never believed before. And the fist thing we've got to believe with all our being is that He knows what He is doing. You don't want this cancer. Neither do I. But obviously God wants us both to have it. So why not rejoice? We're always saying: 'Thy Will be done.' Let's do it. As for Kay and the kids, let's realize something we may never have fully realized before. They are His kids much more than they are yours. He is their Father much more completely than you could ever be. You and Kay brought them to birth. But who gave them being? God, of course. We don't believe enough in Divine Providence, Chic. That's why we got panicky. Don't you see that since God is the Father of you kids, He is obligated to care for them? Yes, I said obligated!! We pray the Our Father often enough, but we live the Our Father all too seldom. You're going to learn your Faith as you never learned it before - and you're going to live it as you never lived it before. God will take care of those kids. He has plans for their futures more complete than anything you could dream. What's more, He can make His plans come true. We don't trust God enough, Chic - and I believe it hurts Him. Show yourself to Him as you love your kids to show themselves to you. Your immediate concern is not the kids - or even Kay. Your immediate concern is to ready yourself for the most glorious moment of your existence: the moment of your meeting God face to face!

If somebody is smiling just to hide his tears, don’t listen to his smile. Just watch him, and immediately you will see – behind the smile there are tears ready to come out. Whenever somebody says no, just watch the person. Watch the whole person. There must be indications which will show that deep down he is saying yes.

Far too many evangelicals have begun their work advocating for justice and righteousness in their communities or nation, only to abandon integrity for pragmatism when they don’t see immediate results. Like the ancient Israelites, we may find ourselves supporting a candidate, policy, or party who promises to protect us if we will only “trust in oppression and perverseness” (Isaiah 30:12

There are two ways to approach the role of new stepdad: You can go the friendly route—soft-pedal, build some trust. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to replace your dad. Or you can seize the opportunity to lead that totalitarian regime you’ve always dreamed of. I am your parent! You will respect me! Clyde opted for the latter. He immediately instated something he called Heavy Chore Day—aka, Saturday. Like Sunday Mass, attendance was mandatory but HCD lasted much longer. The whole family was up and working by 0800 and the workday lasted eight hours. Duties were segregated between men’s work (in the yard) and women’s work (in the house). If there were any holdover friends from a Friday night sleepover, they were welcome to stay, “but if you’re here, you need to contribute.” Our friends quickly learned to request early pickup times. Clyde’s vibe was all drill sergeant. “Police the lawn for anything that ain’t grass or dog shit. Shovel the dog shit. After you mow, edge the perimeter.” Half the jobs didn’t even make sense: “Move this pile of rocks to the other end of the yard. Dig a hole over here, cart the dirt in the wheelbarrow over there and make a dirt hill.

If you have to convince someone to love you, then they don’t love you. If you have to cajole someone into respecting you, then they will never respect you. If you have to convince someone to trust you, then they won’t actually trust you. The most precious and important things in life are, by definition, nontransactional. And to try to bargain for them is to immediately destroy them.

Queer how that was always cropping up. Here she was highly respectable, married, mother of a small boy, and, in spite of all that, knowing all that, these people took one look at her and immediately got that now-I-wonder look. Apparently it was an automatic reaction of white people—if a girl was colored and fairly young, why, it stood to reason she had to be a prostitute. If not that—at least sleeping with her would be just a simple matter, for all one had to do was make the request. In fact, white men wouldn't even have to do the asking because the girl would ask them on sight. She grew angrier as she thought about it. Of course, none of them could know about your grandmother who had brought you up, she said to herself. And ever since you were big enough to remember the things that people said to you, had said over and over, just like a clock ticking, 'Lutie, baby, don't you never let no white man put his hands on you. They ain't never willin' to let a black woman alone. Seems like they all got a itch and a urge to sleep with 'em. Don't you never let any of 'em touch you.' Something that was said so often and with such gravity it had become a part of you, just like breathing, and you would have preferred crawling in bed with a rattlesnake to getting in bed with a white man. Mrs. Chandler's friends and her mother couldn't possibly know that, couldn't possibly imagine that you might have a distrust and a dislike of white men far deeper than the distrust these white women had of you. Or know that, after hearing their estimation of you, nothing in the world could ever force you to be even friendly with a white man. And again she thought of the barrier between her and these people. The funny part of it was she was willing to trust them and their motives without questioning, but the instant they saw the color of her skin they knew what she must be like; they were so confident about what she must be like they didn't need to know her personally in order to verify their estimate.

Seeking approval...is the emotion behind the behavior being analyzed well? I think so but what I think is missing is proper guage of the most effective response. The prediction of emotion is covered but in the moment of struggle, it's wired sort of differently. Their approval-seeking is in hyperdrive and they immediately presume I didn't do it right so they don't like me anymore ..here comes the outburst The slightest change would fix so much... Name the feelin' for them...you feel frustrated...you feel disappointed...angry That's ok..OK... I feel that way when I....too THEN correct Addressing the fact that they want to reject you or themselves first would make a stronger bridge...more trust...harder working clients who eventually see themselves the way you see them.

The voice said: Go back to bed, Liz. I exhaled. It was so immediately clear this was the only thing to do. I wouldn't have accepted any other answer. I wouldn't have trusted a great booming voice that said either: You Must Divorce Your Husband! or You Must Not Divorce Your Husband! Because that's not true wisdom. True wisdom gives the only possible answer at any given moment, and, that night, going back to bed was the only possible answer. Go back to bed, said this omniscient interior voice, because you don't need to know the final answer right now, at 3 o'clock in the morning on a Thursday in November. Go back to bed, because I love you. Go back to bed, because the only thing you need to do for now is rest and take good care of yourself until you do know the answer. Go back to bed, so that, when the tempest comes, you'll be strong enough to deal with it. And the tempest is coming, dear one. Very soon. But not tonight. Therefore: Go back to bed, Liz.

Even if some people on your team don’t love that answer, they’ll respect it. And they’ll trust you—they’ll know that they can speak up and criticize your choices and not get immediately shot down. And then they can sigh, and shrug, and go back to their team, communicate the “why” of the decision, and get on the train.

Privilege has been used to silence people for so long, that you will need to put out the effort to let people know that you will value and respect their input. Don’t expect that trust to form immediately with your intentions.

Just as you would build and use stamina to be a champion sportsperson, you need to deploy Resilience to face challenging Life situations. Resilience is like the Bluetooth feature on your smartphone. You need to activate it to use it. And you activate, you deploy, the Resilience from within you by anchoring in Faith – by trusting the process of Life. So, no matter what you are dealing with, don’t run away from Life; turn around and face your fears. Know that you have the staying power in you to get through Life. Know that if you have a problem, you will also have the means, the mechanism, to deal with the problem even if you can’t always solve it immediately!

and a doctor had been in attendance, so there didn’t seem to be anything amiss that I could discern.” Warneke was taking great care with how he phrased his answers. “But there’s a reason why you particularly remember the Judge?” “He was a very well-known man, Mr. Hunter, often in the newspapers. His wife had begun to make her mark in society.” “Do you always know this much about the people you bury?” “Part of what we do is advise families on the most suitable services for the departed, tailored to the appropriate station in life. We assisted with Judge MacKenzie’s first wife, so we naturally assumed we would be serving the family again. There’s a certain comfort and trust in familiarity.” “I don’t remember much about what happened in the hours and days immediately after my father’s death, Mr. Warneke. By the time I was able to ask, I was told it would be better to remember him as he had been in life. I accepted that idea. Then. Now I want answers.” “I don’t wish to cause you undue pain, Miss MacKenzie. Or to reawaken your grief.” “I want the truth, Mr. Warneke. You may be one of the very few people who

What’s Fair Is Fair. Social systems are based on reciprocity in everything from back scratching to telling the truth. Adults develop a sense of fairness and use it as a yardstick for measuring their behavior. Vampires don’t; their idea of fair is that they get what they want when they want it. What You Get Is Equal to What You Put In. Adults understand that the more you give, the more you get. Vampires take. Other People Have the Right to Deny Me. Human relationships depend on a clear perception of the psychological line between what’s mine and what’s yours. Robert Frost said it well: “Good fences make good neighbors.” Vampires have a hard time seeing this all-important boundary. They believe that whatever they want should be given to them immediately, regardless of how anyone else might feel about it. Social creatures trust each other to follow these basic rules, and Emotional Vampires betray that trust. The lack of connection to something larger than themselves is also the reason for vampires’ internal pain. The universe is a cold and empty place when there is nothing in it bigger than your own need.

Hey, hey! Is this my big-shot grandson who got to visit the White House today?” The voice was definitely Cyrus Hale’s—although the tone caught me by surprise. He sounded like an actual doting grandfather, rather than his usual cranky self. I assumed he was acting for the benefit of anyone who might overhear the call—or be eavesdropping on it. “Hi, Grandpa!” I said cheerfully, doing a bit of acting myself. “Are you close?” “Approaching the building right now.” “Okay. I’m coming out.” I hung up and informed Kimmy, “My grandfather’s here.” “Great!” she said, then thought to add, “In the interest of national security, I hope I can trust you to not share certain stories about what transpired here today?” “You don’t have to worry about me,” I assured her. Kimmy heaved a sigh of relief, then ushered me out the door. Cyrus was pulling up in front of the building in a well-worn sedan that looked exactly like the sort of car a normal grandfather would drive. The Secret Service agents were going on alert when Kimmy yelled to them, “He’s okay! He’s just picking up a friend of Jason’s!” Cyrus rolled down the window and shouted, “Hey there, champ! Did you have fun?” “Sure did, Gramps!” I replied, then slid into the passenger seat. Kimmy waved good-bye enthusiastically. “So long, Ben! Hope to see you again soon!” Cyrus rolled up the window, drove away, and immediately dropped the kindly old grandfather act. “You didn’t waste any time screwing up this mission, did you?

Imagine yourself in your counterpart’s situation. The beauty of empathy is that it doesn’t demand that you agree with the other person’s ideas (you may well find them crazy). But by acknowledging the other person’s situation, you immediately convey that you are listening. And once they know that you are listening, they may tell you something that you can use. The reasons why a counterpart will not make an agreement with you are often more powerful than why they will make a deal, so focus first on clearing the barriers to agreement. Denying barriers or negative influences gives them credence; get them into the open. Pause. After you label a barrier or mirror a statement, let it sink in. Don’t worry, the other party will fill the silence. Label your counterpart’s fears to diffuse their power. We all want to talk about the happy stuff, but remember, the faster you interrupt action in your counterpart’s amygdala, the part of the brain that generates fear, the faster you can generate feelings of safety, well-being, and trust. List the worst things that the other party could say about you and say them before the other person can. Performing an accusation audit in advance prepares you to head off negative dynamics before they take root. And because these accusations often sound exaggerated when said aloud, speaking them will encourage the other person to claim that quite the opposite is true. Remember you’re dealing with a person who wants to be appreciated and understood. So use labels to reinforce and encourage positive perceptions and dynamics.

Welcome to the first dinner of this academic year, we shall start as we always do by saying the witches’ creed,' Miss Moffat said. As she began to speak, the other witches joined in: 'Witches old and witches young owls and bats and black cats too. Come together in this castle to bring out the best in you. With perfect love and perfect trust we learn the spells and witches' rules. Acting for the good of all now let’s eat in this great hall.' Charlotte looked at Stef, and they exchanged awkward glances because everyone else around them seemed to know the words to the creed, including Gerty and even Alice, although she only joined in on the last few sentences. Charlotte knew that she'd need to learn it for next time so that she didn't stand out and reminded herself to ask Gerty to teach it to her and Stef later. As soon as the witch’s creed had finished the bats flew into the room carrying bowls of broth and baskets of bread rolls. They went to the teacher's table first before they brought in food for the girls. Charlotte watched, and she was incredibly impressed as two bats quickly but precisely placed the bowl of orangey red broth down in front of her. On seeing Stef begin to eat and Gerty grab a roll out of the basket in front of them, she also took a roll and then placed her spoon into her broth. Picking up the silver goblet in front of her, she saw that it was now full of cranberry juice, even though she was sure it had been empty when she'd first sat down. The main course was a selection of steamed meats, and freshly cooked vegetables and dessert was an array of fruits and mini cakes that the bats brought in on three-tiered stands. The food was so delicious that even Alice hadn't complained once, although when Charlotte thought about it, she realized that Alice hadn't said anything since she'd sat down. When everyone had finished eating Molly stood up and said 'luculentam' as she waved her wand. All the dirty dishes, goblets and cutlery immediately vanished, and the tables were perfectly tidy. 'I so need to learn that spell,' Stef said, and Charlotte and Gerty nodded in agreement. 'Now that dinner is over it is your free time to do as you wish, may you use it wisely. I request the new students to stay behind, and Molly will give you a tour of the Academy. As for the rest of you, you're now free to leave,' Miss Moffat said. She got onto the broomstick that was floating behind her chair and led the rest of the teachers and older students out of the room. Charlotte watched as the room became quieter. Then she followed the others over to where Molly was standing in front of the platform, her blonde-hair now tied into bunches. 'I don't see why I need a tour, I know where my room is, and the meeting hall is easy to find. Surely servants should be on call to show me the remaining rooms as and when I need to see them,' Alice said, breaking her short bout of silence. 'This castle is huge, and I'm excited to see more of it,' Charlotte whispered to Gerty.

break?" She stared back at him, but speaking was beyond her. She was so taken aback by the concern and care he couldn't hide. This was just one more aspect of his personality that she was seeing, whether he wanted her to see it or not. She sucked in a ragged breath. She had one thought and one thought only. She was falling in love with the Neanderthal. **** During the evening and night, Logan fed her soup and made her drink Gatorade and lots of water. Lauren knew he'd called someone, she suspected it was his mother, because she'd heard him talking on the phone. After that, he timed her medicine and alternated between giving her ibuprofen and acetaminophen. He took care of her, and she left any worries she might have had to him. Since the following day was Friday, she already knew she wasn't going in to work, and so did her immediate boss. It had been more than obvious when Lauren had left with chills and a fever and he had called out, "See you Monday." She knew he didn't want her spreading what she had all over the office. So Lauren alternated between sleeping through the evening and night, and being taken care of by Logan. All she had to do on her own was pick her way to the bathroom, and a couple of times, she hadn't even had to do that. He'd lifted her up when she'd swayed a little too much for his liking, and deposited her in the bathroom and closed the door. He'd been there waiting for her, ready to carry her back after she opened the door. They watched some television together, and at about midnight, he carried her through to the bedroom and held her as she slept. Lauren couldn't ever remember having had so much fun being sick. She reveled in his care; she luxuriated in the undivided attention he was showing her. Nothing anyone had ever done for her had ever felt so . . . compelling. The next morning when she realized that he wasn't going to go to work, she rebelled against that. "I'm okay. I'm going to live. Please go to work." He frowned in obvious agitation. "Your fever might flare up again." "I just took the ibuprofen. I'll take some more meds in a couple of hours, okay?" He watched her as if debating the idea. "I think you still need me." God, yes, she needed him. "I'll be fine." She watched him warily, a thousand emotions bouncing around in her head. "You can come back after work if you want." He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. "That's a given, baby." **** Lauren went back to work on Monday but was slow to fully get her strength back. Two weeks later, however, she was full steam ahead. She'd laid low at work, put a lot of stuff on the back burner as she recovered from what she guessed was a mild case of the flu. Then one day, feeling much better, she took a look at her upcoming calendar and almost flipped out. She had a full schedule packed into the next ten days or so, starting with an out of town trip. Logan took her out to dinner that evening, and after they'd eaten and she'd delayed as long as she could, she lowered the boom on him. After she told him about the trip, he turned in his seat to stare down at her. He said nothing for a moment, as if not trusting himself to speak. The waiter walked by, and Logan motioned for the check with a jerk of his hand. Every motion of his body indicated his heightened stress level. "Logan, you're overreacting," Lauren chided softly. "Am I?" he asked, staring across the restaurant, out the windows, looking everywhere else but not at her while he drummed his fingers on the table. "Yes. It's no big deal, really, I'll be home before you know it," she tried to soothe. "I don't think you understand," he said flatly as he turned to look at her. Oh, Lauren was pretty sure she did understand and told him so in no uncertain terms. "I

Simplicity is important because the average American like Jennifer hasn’t graduated from a four-year college. Brevity is important because Jennifer or her husband don’t have time to think about what you’re saying. They need to be able to sort it out immediately. Credibility is important because Jennifer Smith has been misinformed too many times to trust what products or politicians promise her. Consistency is important because she won’t hear you the first, second, or even third time you speak to her. You’ll have to give your message gains and again and again. Novelty is important because you need to stand out. “Been there, done that” is Jennifer’s creed. If you aren’t different, you’ll get lost. Say something that grabs her attention. Sound (alliteration) is important in attracting her attention. She’s already doing too many things at once. You need to break through the clutter. Aspiration is important because you know that she has dreams for a better life. If she recognizes her dreams, sees your words in her dreams, she’ll listen to you. And relevance is important. The greater the impact you can demonstrate on her daily life, the more likely she is to pay attention to what you want to say.

wraparound Wayfarer sunglasses, a shaved head, and small goatee caught our immediate attention in front of the minimart. He was standing next to another man who had a chocolate bar hanging from his mouth like a cigar. The shaved head motioned to me that he wanted to talk to us, but not right there. “You trust that rowdyass?” Sampson asked as we followed at a safe distance. “Alvin Jackson.” “I trust everybody.” I winked. No wink came back from Sampson. “You are badly fucked-up, Sugar,” he said. His eyes were still seriously hooded. “Just trying to do the right thing.” “Ah, yeah, you’re trying too hard, then.” “That’s why you love me.” “Yes, it is,” Sampson said and finally grinned. “If lovin’ you is wrong, I don’t want to be right,” he talk-sang a familiar lyric. We met Roadrunner Alvin Jackson around

The three senior guys in the campaign,” an incredulous Bannon went on, “thought it was a good idea to meet with a foreign government inside Trump Tower in the conference room on the twenty-fifth floor—with no lawyers. They didn’t have any lawyers. Even if you thought that this was not treasonous, or unpatriotic, or bad shit, and I happen to think it’s all of that, you should have called the FBI immediately. Even if you didn’t think to do that, and you’re totally amoral, and you wanted that information, you do it in a Holiday Inn in Manchester, New Hampshire, with your lawyers who meet with these people and go through everything and then they verbally come and tell another lawyer in a cut-out, and if you’ve got something, then you figure out how to dump it down to Breitbart or something like that, or maybe some other more legitimate publication. You never see it, you never know it, because you don’t need to.… But that’s the brain trust that they had.

How would you describe yourself? 2. What was the happiest moment of your life? 3. What was your most embarrassing moment? 4. What is your first childhood memory? 5. Who has been the most influential person in your life and why? 6. What is something you did as a teenager that your parents never learned about? 7. What’s your favorite time of year and why? 8. If you were asked to give yourself a new name, what would it be? 9. If you were asked to give me a new name, what would it be? 10. If we hadn’t met each other, where would you be right now? 11. What was on your mind the last time we were having sex? 12. What is your favorite sexual memory of us? 13. What movie reminds you of us? 14. Which of your parents are you most like and in what ways? 15. What is your favorite thing I ever did for a special occasion for you? 16. What’s your favorite physical feature on you? 17. Who was your favorite teacher when you were a child? 18. Which significant other before me had the biggest impact on you? 19. What’s the angriest you ever felt? 20. Which of your personality traits do you wish you could change? 21. Which of your parents did you go to when you wanted to talk and why? 22. Which of your friends would you choose if you had to be on a desert island with just one? 23. When you were a kid, did you feel that you fit in? Why or why not? 24. If you could go back in time, what age would you be again? 25. If you could see into the future, what would you want to know? 26. What is the best thing about our relationship? 27. Are you an optimist, a pessimist, or a realist? 28. What things about me make you know I’m the one for you? 29. If our house was on fire and you had a chance to grab only five things before leaving, what would they be? 30. If you could be born again as someone else, who would you be and why? 31. What is your favorite song of all time and why? 32. What is the worst decision you ever made? 33. If you could hand-pick the leader of our country, who would it be and why? 34. What kind of animal do you see yourself as? 35. What kind of animal do you see me as? 36. If you could boil down your life philosophy into one sentence, what would it be? 37. If you could remain one age forever, how old would you be? 38. Would you be willing to live a year in another country where we don’t speak the language? Why or why not? 39. If you had one magical superpower, what would it be? 40. How do you think other people perceive you? 41. Aside from me, who really knows you the best? 42. What is the wackiest thing you’ve ever done? 43. Have you ever had a supernatural or unexplainable experience? If so, what was it? 44. What do you believe happens immediately after we die? 45. In what situations do you feel the most confident and sure of yourself? 46. In what situations do you feel the least confident? 47. What is the best thing you learned from your mom and dad? 48. What one major life regret do you have? 49. On an average day, what do you think about most? 50. What makes you feel most fulfilled in our relationship?