E Mini Quotes

STOP TREATING DOPE PEOPLE LIKE THEY'RE REGULAR

Call no man lucky until he is dead, but there have been moment of rare satisfaction in the often random and fragmented life of the radical freelance scribbler. I have lived to see Ronald Reagan called “a useful idiot for Kremlin propaganda” by his former idolators; to see the General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union regarded with fear and suspicion by the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia (which blacked out an interview with Miloš Forman broadcast live on Moscow TV); to see Mao Zedong relegated like a despot of antiquity. I have also had the extraordinary pleasure of revisiting countries—Greece, Spain, Zimbabwe, and others—that were dictatorships or colonies when first I saw them. Other mini-Reichs have melted like dew, often bringing exiled and imprisoned friends blinking modestly and honorably into the glare. E pur si muove—it still moves, all right.

This—us kissing—is making me have mini heart attacks over and over. She makes little noises, which make me have to hold on to bigger noises that try to force their way out of my throat. I don’t know how late it is, but it feels like time stopped and sped up all at the same time. I just want to be next to her, to have her be super close to me all the time.

THEY STOLE YOUR STYLE BUT THEY COULDN'T STEAL YOUR GLOW

YOU HIDE YOUR UGLY TRUTH SO BEAUTIFULLY AND WHEN YOU REVEAL IT TO THE WORLD YOU'RE EVEN MORE ATTRACTIVE

IN LIFE ONE MUST LEARN HOW TO WASH THEIR OWN BACK

Consider the genesis of a single-celled embryo produced by the fertilization of an egg by a sperm. The genetic material of this embryo comes from two sources: paternal genes (from sperm) and maternal genes (from eggs). But the cellular material of the embryo comes exclusively from the egg; the sperm is no more than a glorified delivery vehicle for male DNA—a genome equipped with a hyperactive tail. Aside from proteins, ribosomes, nutrients, and membranes, the egg also supplies the embryo with specialized structures called mitochondria. These mitochondria are the energy-producing factories of the cell; they are so anatomically discrete and so specialized in their function that cell biologists call them “organelles”—i.e., mini-organs resident within cells. Mitochondria, recall, carry a small, independent genome that resides within the mitochondrion itself—not in the cell’s nucleus, where the twenty-three pairs of chromosomes (and the 21,000-odd human genes) can be found. The exclusively female origin of all the mitochondria in an embryo has an important consequence. All humans—male or female—must have inherited their mitochondria from their mothers, who inherited their mitochondria from their mothers, and so forth, in an unbroken line of female ancestry stretching indefinitely into the past. (A woman also carries the mitochondrial genomes of all her future descendants in her cells; ironically, if there is such a thing as a “homunculus,” then it is exclusively female in origin—technically, a “femunculus”?) Now imagine an ancient tribe of two hundred women, each of whom bears one child. If the child happens to be a daughter, the woman dutifully passes her mitochondria to the next generation, and, through her daughter’s daughter, to a third generation. But if she has only a son and no daughter, the woman’s mitochondrial lineage wanders into a genetic blind alley and becomes extinct (since sperm do not pass their mitochondria to the embryo, sons cannot pass their mitochondrial genomes to their children). Over the course of the tribe’s evolution, tens of thousands of such mitochondrial lineages will land on lineal dead ends by chance, and be snuffed out. And here is the crux: if the founding population of a species is small enough, and if enough time has passed, the number of surviving maternal lineages will keep shrinking, and shrinking further, until only a few are left. If half of the two hundred women in our tribe have sons, and only sons, then one hundred mitochondrial lineages will dash against the glass pane of male-only heredity and vanish in the next generation. Another half will dead-end into male children in the second generation, and so forth. By the end of several generations, all the descendants of the tribe, male or female, might track their mitochondrial ancestry to just a few women. For modern humans, that number has reached one: each of us can trace our mitochondrial lineage to a single human female who existed in Africa about two hundred thousand years ago. She is the common mother of our species. We do not know what she looked like, although her closest modern-day relatives are women of the San tribe from Botswana or Namibia. I find the idea of such a founding mother endlessly mesmerizing. In human genetics, she is known by a beautiful name—Mitochondrial Eve.

Jillian’s fine. She’s in her room with one of Drew’s e- readers.” “Uh oh.” Drew sat forward. “Which one?” Audrey tensed. “The blue one. The mini- tablet?” “Okay.” Drew smiled. “That’s fine, then. Porn’s on the red one.” She stared for a moment. “Right. I’ll remember that.

NO SURROGATE CAN BIRTH YOUR GREATNESS SO LET THEM STEAL TIME WILL REVEAL

Modele vin și trec. O să treacă și asta a buricelor la vedere și a mini-jupelor. În Renaștere a fost o vreme când, mai ales la teatru, femeile purtau rochii din care le ieșeau complet țâțele, celor care le-aveau frumoase - asta se-nțelege. Astăzi nu se mai ține seama de-a arăta numai ce e frumos. Astăzi se poartă „dezinhibarea”. Arăți ce ai, nepăsându-ți că e frumos sau nu. Mini-jupele-ți oferă și picioare de sculptat, dar și burlane, stâlpi de telegraf, sau „ciocănele” de găină subnutrită. Moda vine și trece fără urme de neșters. De neșteres este incultura, disprețul pentru gramatică, pentru istorie, pentru limbă, pentru dicționare; este pauperizarea intelectuală.

Our approach and method of presentation is also radically different from traditional fare. For example, the complex series of decisions, movements, and fighting on July 2 are always—always—broken apart and tendered to readers in separate chunks. The fighting around Devil’s Den and Little Round Top is usually handled in one chapter, the Peach Orchard salient in another section, Cemetery Ridge in yet another chapter, and so on. The consequence of this customary method of presentation compartmentalizes these phases of the engagement into mini-battles comprising separate actions. And that is how most students of Gettysburg have come to view them. But they were not unrelated sequestered endeavors. Rather, they were part of one overall interlocking strategy of attack that came much closer to breaking apart and decisively defeating Meade’s army than anyone heretofore has fully explained. Thus, Chapter 7—all 137 pages of it—is presented as a single fluid event so that readers may fully comprehend what Lee intended to accomplish with his echelon attack, how the attack was progressing, where it broke down, and who was responsible—and just how close Lee came to realizing his bid for victory on Northern soil.

When I had the third breakdown, the mini-breakdown, I was in the late stages of writing this book. Since I could not cope with communication of any kind during that period, I put an auto-response message on my E-mail that said I was temporarily unreachable, and a similar message on my answering machine. Acquaintances who had suffered depression knew what to make of these outgoing messages. They wasted no time. I had dozens and dozens of calls from people offering whatever they could offer and doing it glowingly. “I will come to stay the minute you call,” wrote Laura Anderson, who also sent a wild profusion of orchids, “and I’ll stay as long as it takes you to get better. If you’d prefer, you are of course always welcome here; if you need to move in for a year, I’ll be here for you. I hope you know that I will always be here for you.” Claudia Weaver wrote with questions: “Is it better for you to have someone check in with you every day or are the messages too much of a burden? If they are a burden, you needn’t answer this one, but whatever you need—just call me, anytime, day or night.” Angel Starkey called often from the pay phone at her hospital to see if I was okay. “I don’t know what you need,” she said, “but I’m worrying about you all the time. Please take care of yourself. Come and see me if you’re feeling really bad, anytime. I’d really like to see you. If you need anything, I’ll try to get it for you. Promise me you won’t hurt yourself.” Frank Rusakoff wrote me a remarkable letter and reminded me about the precious quality of hope. “I long for news that you are well and off on another adventure,” he wrote, and signed the letter, “Your friend, Frank.” I had felt committed in many ways to all these people, but the spontaneous outpouring astounded me. Tina Sonego said she’d call in sick for work if I needed her—or that she’d buy me a ticket and take me to someplace relaxing. “I’m a good cook too,” she told me. Janet Benshoof dropped by the house with daffodils and optimistic lines from favorite poems written in her clear hand and a bag so she could come sleep on my sofa, just so I wouldn’t be alone. It was an astonishing responsiveness.

God was still smiling when he went into the guest room for his suitcase. He looked in the closet and under the perfectly made bed. He even pulled out the drawers of the one armoire on the far side of the room, but couldn’t find it. He was about to go back downstairs and ask Day when he turned down the long hall and walked into Day’s master bedroom. His suitcase was tucked neatly in the corner. He pulled it out but immediately knew it was empty. He looked in the first dresser but those were Day’s clothes. The second identical dresser was on the other side and God did a double take at his few toiletries that were neatly aligned on top. God rubbed his hand on the smooth surface and felt his heart clench at how domestic this looked. His and his dressers…really. God yanked off his T-shirt and threw it in the hamper along with Day’s items. He washed up quickly and went back to his dresser to put on a clean shirt. His mouth dropped when he pulled out the dresser drawer. His shirts were neatly folded and placed in an organized arrangement. God went through all five drawers. His underwear, socks, shirts, sweats, all arranged neatly and in its own place. He dropped down on the bed and thought for a minute. At first he was joking, but Day really was domesticating him. Was God ready for that? Sure he loved Day, he’d take a bullet for him, but was he ready to play house? He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger at the slight tension forming behind his eyes. God had been completely on his own since he was eighteen. He’d never shared space with anyone—hell, no one had ever wanted to. Fuck. Just last night Day was getting ready to fuck mini Justin Bieber, now he was cooking and cleaning for him and doing his damn laundry. He tried his best to shake off his anxiety. He never used the word love lightly. He meant what he’d said last night. God had only loved three people his entire life and for the past four years only one of them returned that love. Should he really tuck tail and run just because this was new territory? Hell no. All he did was unpack my suitcase. No big deal. He was just being hospitable. Damn sure is better than that seedy hotel. “My boyfriend’s just trying to make me comfortable.” He smirked and tried the term on his tongue again. “I have a boyfriend.” “Get your ass down here and stop overthinking shit! Dinner is getting cold!” Day yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

I FOUND MYSELF LIVING FOR THE ONES WHO LOST THEIR LIVES

ART IS A GIFT THAT IS MEANT TO BE SHARED AND SERVED FAMILY STYLE

«Sono felice che supporti le mie decisioni,» aggiunse lui rompendo la calotta di pasta frolla con un cucchiaio e versando in una ciotola una generosa porzione di pie alle fragole, per poi passargliela. Lei sospirò e la prese. «Grazie. Io torno a dormire, è stata una lunga notte. Invitalo a cena, prima o poi, d'accordo? Voglio incontrarlo come si deve.» «Certo. Solo, non spaventarlo.» Robert sorrise e decorò i frullati con delle foglie di basilico fresco. «Come potrei mai spaventarlo? È un cerbiatto?» Scosse la testa e lasciò la tazza da caffè vuota nel lavandino. «No, è una donnola,» ribatté Rob, tirando fuori dal forno i mini flan. «Se è un qualche nuovo gergo gay non riesco a capirlo»

THE QUEST STARTS WITH A QUESTION #HOPENATION

I’ve scheduled deloading phases in a few ways: roughly 8 a.m. to 9 a.m. daily for journaling, tea routines, etc.; 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. every Wednesday for creative output (i.e., writing, interviewing for the podcast); and “screen-free Saturdays,” when I use no laptops and only use my phone for maps and coordinating with friends via text (no apps). Of course, I still use “mini-retirements” à la The 4-Hour Workweek a few times a year.

Despite the absence of speech, the green area on the upper part of the gyrus was glowing. “If it’s lighting up, it means she’s talking to me at this very moment.” “Eugenie?” Sharko grunted. Leclerc felt a chill. To see his chief inspector’s meninges react to speech like this, when you couldn’t even hear a fly buzzing, made him feel like there was a ghost in the room. “What’s she saying?” “She wants me to buy a pint of cocktail sauce and some candied chestnuts next time I go shopping. She loves those miserable chestnuts. Excuse me a second…” Sharko closed his eyes, lips pressed tight. Eugenie was someone he might see and hear at any moment. On the passenger seat of his old Renault. At night when he went to bed. Sitting cross-legged, watching the mini-gauge trains run around the tracks. Two years earlier, Eugenie had often shown up with a black man, Willy, a huge smoker of Camels and pot. A real mean son of a bitch, much worse than the little girl because he talked loud and tended to gesticulate wildly. Thanks to the treatment, the Rasta had disappeared for good, but the other one, the girl, came and went as she pleased, resistant as a virus.

ä - sounds like “ay” as in the word “melon” ö  - sounds like “ir” as in the word “girl” or “earl” ü - there is no equivalent sound in English but the closest it sounds is “eeh” as in “eBook or eBar

Shortly after Solomon’s death (around 925 B.C.E.), the ten northern tribes of Israel secede from the union, forming their own kingdom called Israel. The southern kingdom remains under the sovereignty of David’s descendants and takes the name Judah, from the name of David’s tribe.

Another contender was Nokia’s 9000 Communicator, a book-sized tool that looked like a cellphone strapped onto a mini keyboard. A precursor to the smartphone, the 9000 combined computing, cellular, and Internet applications such as browsing and e-mail. The Finnish phone was so glamorous it was used by Val Kilmer’s Simon Templar character in the 1997 remake of The Saint. Few consumers, however, could afford the $800 price tag, and wireless cellular network carriers more accustomed to handling voice traffic charged a fortune to relay

WHEN IT MATTERS THE MOST.... DON'T PLEAD THE 5TH WHEN YOU'VE BEEN TESTIFYING ALL DAY! SPEAK UP!

THE MOMENT YOU WANT SOMEONE ELSE'S LIFE IS THE MOMENT YOU SPIRITUALLY KILL YOURSELF

THE TRUTH IS BIRTHED IN DEATH

WHEN YOU LOVE SOMEONE YOU LEARN HOW TO FIGHT FAIR

BUILDING A SUCCESSFUL BRAND IS CONVINCING THE FULL BELLY THAT IT IS STILL HUNGRY AND HAS ROOM FOR MORE. BE, THE MORE THAT THEY WANT! -HOPENATION

THE BEST SINGERS ARE THOSE WHO WERE TOLD BY "LIFE" THAT THEY DIDN'T HAVE A REASON TO SING OR REJOICE BUT THEY SANG ANYWAY -HOPENATION

Allo stesso tempo in giapponese ci sono due parole, wabi e sabi, che messe insieme significano bellezza effimera e fluttuante; estetica della decadenza, dei dettagli asimmetrici e dei colori naturali; gusto per il non finito, il transeunte, l'imperfetto. Per spiegare cosa significano queste quattro sillabe giapponesi nelle nostre lingue bisogna scrivere dei mini trattati.

[105] Muhammed'in Kökeni Muhammed'in aile ve atalarına ait bütün malumat tarihi olmaktan ziyade, efsane­vidir. Peygamber zamanında bu malumat yoktu; bunlar sonradan icat olunmuştur. Arapların aile şecerelerinin tutulması usulü Halife Ömer zamanında başlamıştır. Bu usul birtakım düzme şecerelerin uydurulmasına yol açtı. Hakikatte, Muham­med'in kökeni hakkında pek az şey bilinmiştir; o kadar ki, onun asıl ismi dahi malum olmamıştır; Muhammed, Peygamber'in ismi değil, lakabıydı. Peygamber'in cetleri hakkındaki malumat dahi tarihi vesikalara uymaz. Araplar, Peygamber'in İbrahim neslinden geldiğini ispata çalıştılar; Araplar bu suretle bütün *** [106] Arap ırkının yüksek asalet sahibi olduğunu ispat etmek hevesindeydiler. Muhammed kendisi hiçbir zaman asalet şerefi iddiasına kalkışmamıştır. O, boş te­ferruata ehemmiyet vermezdi; gayesine doğru tereddütsüz yürür ameli bir adamdı. Muhammed, hiçbir zaman, bir asalet unvanı istemedi; damarlarında, İbrani nebi­lerinin canı dolaştığını iddia etmedi; bilakis, gerek kendisinin, gerek ana ve babası­nın fakir halleriyle iftihar etti. Bütün kaynaklar bize, Muhammed'in babası olmak üzere Abdülmuttalip'in oğlu Abdulla namında bir zatı gösterir; anasının da adını Emine olarak tespit ederler. Muhammed dünyaya gelmeden evvel, babası ölmüştür, Emine de, çocuğunu altı *** [107] yaşında yetim bırakmıştır. Muhammed dedesi Abdulmuttalip yanında kaldı. Dedesi öldükten sonra da amcası Ebutalip'in himayesine girdi. Ebutalip çok fakir ve ailesi de kalabalıktı. Muhammed, geçimini temin için gençliğinde çobanlık etti. Muhammed 25 yaşındayken Hatice isminde 40 yaşında zengin bir dul kadınla ev­lendi; daha evvel onun hizmetine girmiş, develerine ve ticaret işlerine bakıyordu. Bu verdiğimiz malumat, öteden beri verilegelmekte olan malumattır. Ancak, bu hu­susta bilgimizi tarih çerçevesine sokabilmek için şu noktalara dikkati çekmek lazımdır. Muhammed'in Abdulla ismini taşıdığına dair söylenen sözler kati değildir. *** [108] Abdulla ismi Muhammed'den evvel adeta meçhuldü. İslamiyetten evvel herhangi bir mabuda nispetle Abdüllat, Zeydüllat gibi isimler vardı; bu isimler İslamiyet devrin­de Abdullah, Zeydullah yapıldı. Ananenin bize Muhammed'in dedesi olmak üzere gösterdiği Abdülmuttalip'in da­hi, hakiki dedesi olduğu hakkında tarihi vesika yoktur. Bu fikirlerden sonra Muhammed'in kökeni hakkında söylenebilecek şudur: Muhammed. fakir bir kökenden gelmiştir; pek küçük yaşında anasız, babasız kal­mıştır; Abdülmuttalip ailesi ve bilhassa Ebutalip tarafından bir şefkat hissiyle kabul ve *** [109] himaye edilmiştir. Peygamber'e verilmiş olan Muhammed lakabı, ölmüş babasının is­mini kullanmaya lüzum bırakmıyordu.

A maior parte dos interrogadores voltava de mãos vazias dia após dia. “Nenhuma informação obtida da fonte”, era o que os interrogadores informavam todas as semanas. E exatamente como ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ tinha dito, o ■■■■■■■■■■ estava desesperado para fazer os detentos falar. Assim, ■■■■■■■ montou um mini■■■■■■■■■ dentro da organização maior. Essa força-tarefa, que englobava gente do Exército, da Marinha, dos Fuzileiros Navais e civis, tinha como missão arrancar informações dos detentos. A operação foi cercada de máximo sigilo. ■■■■■■■■■■ era um personagem de destaque nesse subgrupo ■■■■■■ . Embora ■■■■■■■ fosse uma pessoa inteligente, davam a ele o serviço mais sujo da ilha e, por meio de uma espantosa lavagem cerebral, o levavam a crer que estava fazendo a coisa certa. ■■■■■■ estava sempre envolto num uniforme que o cobria da cabeça aos pés, porque ■■■■■■■■■ tinha consciência de que ele estava cometendo crimes de guerra contra detentos indefesos. ■■■■■■■■■■■■ era A Coruja da Noite, O Adorador do Diabo, O Homem da Música Alta, o Cara da Antirreligião, o interrogador por excelência. Cada um desses apelidos se justificava. ■■■■■■ tinha por hábito “entreter” os detentos que não estavam autorizados a dormir. Privou-me de sono durante cerca de dois meses, ao longo dos quais tentou subjugar minha resistência mental, sem sucesso. Para me manter acordado, ele resfriava ao máximo a temperatura de onde eu me achava, me obrigava a escrever todo tipo de coisa sobre minha vida, me dava água sem parar e às vezes me fazia ficar a noite inteira de pé. Um dia, me deixou pelado com ajuda de um carcereiro ■■■■■■■■■ para me humilhar. Outra noite, me pôs numa sala gelada cheia de fotos propagandísticas dos Estados Unidos, inclusive uma foto de George W. Bush, e me fez ouvir mil vezes o hino nacional americano. ■■■■■■ cuidava de diversos detentos ao mesmo tempo. Eu ouvia muitas portas batendo, música alta e detentos indo e vindo, o barulho das pesadas correntes denunciando sua presença. ■■■■■ punha os detentos numa sala escura com imagens que supostamente representavam demônios. Fazia os detentos ouvir música de ódio e fúria, e a música “Let the Bodies hit the Floor” mil vezes, a noite inteira, na sala escura. Ele era muito explícito sobre seu ódio ao islã, e proibia terminantemente qualquer prática islâmica, inclusive as orações e a recitação do Corão.

All’apice del parcheggio, a congiungere il mini market e gli altri due stabili, c’è una striscia di marciapiede, davanti a una palestra e a un ristorante asiatico “All you can eat”. Non riesco francamente a immaginarmi quale sadico e disfunzionale criterio urbanistico abbia permesso una cosa del genere.

A mulher do regulo da razão a Maria. Na Zambézia ainda ha gente que não conhece algodão nem seda. Nem artifícios. Adultos de tangas e crianças de traseiro ao vento. A mulher do regulo lembra-se das roupas das esposas dos antigos feitores. Saias longas de mil folhos, no intenso calor dos trópicos. E achavam imoralidade a nudez e a liberdade das pessoas da terra. os tempos mudaram muito. Até os padres aprenderam dos negros a dar mergulho nu à beira do mar. As mulheres brancas aprenderam das negras a andarem de tangas, a que agora chamam mini-saias, colantes. Agora são esses europeus que gostam de andar por aí de tangas enquanto o povo veste, com rigor, as roupas antigas. (...) A nudez de Maria era o regresso ao estado da pureza. Da transparência. As mulheres ficam escandalizadas, porque o nu de uma se reflecte no corpo de outra.

A mulher do régulo da razão a Maria. Na Zambézia ainda há gente que não conhece algodão nem seda. Nem artifícios. Adultos de tangas e crianças de traseiro ao vento. A mulher do régulo lembra-se das roupas das esposas dos antigos feitores. Saias longas de mil folhos, no intenso calor dos trópicos. E achavam imoralidade a nudez e a liberdade das pessoas da terra. Os tempos mudaram muito. Até os padres aprenderam dos negros a dar um mergulho nu à beira do mar. As mulheres brancas aprenderam das negras a andarem de tangas, a que agora chamam mini-saias, colantes. Agora são esses europeus que gostam de andar por aí de tangas enquanto o povo veste, com rigor, as roupas antigas. (...) A nudez de Maria era o regresso ao estado da pureza. Da transparência. As mulheres ficam escandalizadas, porque o nu de uma se reflecte no corpo da outra.

Eeny?” said Salazar. “Is that from Eeny, meeny, miny, moe?” “Really, Harry?” said Kelly in amusement. “You think I’d name it after Eeny, meeny, miny, moe?

EASY FIRST FINGER FOODS FOR BABIES • steamed (or lightly boiled) whole vegetables, such as green beans, baby corn, and sugar-snap peas • steamed (or lightly boiled) florets of cauliflower and broccoli • steamed, roasted or stir-fried vegetable sticks, such as carrot, potato, egg plant, sweet potato, parsnip, pumpkin, and zucchini • raw sticks of cucumber (tip: keep some of these ready prepared in the fridge for babies who are teething—the coolness is soothing for their gums) • thick slices of avocado (not too ripe or it will be very squishy) • chicken (as a strip of meat or on a leg bone)—warm (i.e., freshly cooked) or cold • thin strips of beef, lamb or pork—warm (i.e., freshly cooked) or cold • fruit, such as pear, apple, banana, peach, nectarine, mango—either whole or as sticks • sticks of firm cheese, such as cheddar or Gloucester •breadsticks • rice cakes or toast “fingers”—on their own or with a homemade spread, such as hummus and tomato, or cottage cheese And, if you want to be a bit more adventurous, try making your own versions of: • meatballs or mini-burgers • lamb or chicken nuggets • fishcakes or fish fingers • falafels • lentil patties • rice balls (made with sushi rice, or basmati rice with dhal) Remember, you don’t need to use recipes specifically designed for babies, provided you’re careful to keep salt and sugar to a minimum.

Chopin’s Prelude in E Minor Op. 28, No. 4

Hot Chocolate Cupcakes A combination to die for – hot chocolate AND cupcakes! This recipe makes 14 cupcakes. Ingredients For the chocolate cupcakes: - ½ cup unsweetened natural cocoa powder - ¾ cup all-purpose flour - 1 teaspoon baking powder - ½ teaspoon baking soda - ¼ teaspoon salt - 2 large eggs at room temperature - ½ cup granulated sugar - ½ cup packed light brown sugar - ⅓ cup vegetable oil - 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract - ½ cup buttermilk For the frosting: - ½ cup dry hot chocolate mix (with NO marshmallows) - ⅓ cup heavy cream - ¾ cup unsalted butter at room temperature - 3 – 3 ½ cups confectioners’ sugar Instructions Make the cupcakes Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit (175 degrees Celsius). Line muffin time with cupcake liners. In a medium bowl, whisk together cocoa powder, flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt. Set aside. Beat together the eggs, sugar, brown sugar, vegetable oil and vanilla extract until combined. Alternate adding the dry ingredients and buttermilk to batter. The batter will be somewhat thin. Pour batter into the prepared cupcake tin. Fill each paper liner halfway. Bake for 18 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool before frosting. Make the frosting In a small saucepan over medium heat, whisk together the hot cocoa mix and heavy cream. Heat for 5 minutes, stirring often, until warm. Remove from heat and cool for 20 minutes or until at room temperature. Beat the butter until smooth, about 1 minute. Add confectioners’ sugar and beat until combined, about 1 minute. With the mixer on low, slowly pour in hot cocoa mixture. Once combined, increase speed to medium-high and beat for 1 minute. For a thicker frosting, add more confectioners’ sugar. Transfer frosting to a pastry bag fitted with desired tip. Pipe frosting on to cupcakes and garnish with mini marshmallows.

as far as he can on the ice. Or rm TFMW e h length of a conversation between two pards don't tell nothin' about the length of the friendship. Steriing loyalty to friends is required by the code of life. Ask no more and give no less

No word in the B vocabulary was ideologically neutral. A great many were euphemisms. Such words, for instance, as JOYCAMP (forced-labour camp) or MINIPAX Minis- try of Peace, i.e. Ministry of War) meant almost the exact opposite of what they appeared to mean. Some words, on the other hand, displayed a frank and contemptuous un- derstanding of the real nature of Oceanic society. An example was PROLEFEED, meaning the rubbishy enter- tainment and spurious news which the Party handed out to the masses.

Then Jesus feels like running: “What shall I say? Father, save me from this hour?” He’s struggling with whether he should ask God to make his world pain-free. But Jesus is ruled by his Father, so he says, “No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour.” In other words, “I am aware of my feelings, but I will not wallow in them.” (Our culture makes feelings absolute: “Because I feel this way, I must act on it.” But to be constantly swept along by your feelings is a modern form of bondage.) Finally Jesus worships, “Father, glorify your name!” The scene itself is a mini-death and resurrection. Jesus dies to his desires and then comes alive to the beauty of his Father.

WORDS ARE THE "ACTED-OUT" VIBRATIONS OF OUR SOULS

deeper issues (e.g. muscle, bone, brain, organs, glands, fat, etc.), we want around 10-40J per area, so optimal treatment times and distances with the lights I recommend are: 2-7 minutes per area (if the light is 6” inches away) 5-10 minutes per area (if the light is 12” away) I do not recommend going further away than 12” if you’re treating deeper tissues. Roughly 6” inches away is ideal for delivering the most light to the deeper tissues. If you get the Joovv light, these tend to have lower power density than the Red Rush360 and Platinum lights. So for the Joovv lights, you’ll want to add roughly 20-40% more time to the above dose ranges (when using them from 6-12” away from your body) E.g. If you would use the Red Rush360 for 10 minutes (from 12” away), you may need to use the Joovv Mini for 13-15 minutes to get the same dose. For use on the brain, some people recommend much relatively higher doses (the high end of my recommended dose ranges), due to the fact that it’s harder to deliver a significant amount of light to the brain tissues since the light has to penetrate through the skull before it can reach the brain. Thus, less overall light actually makes it to brain tissue (relative to say, treating fat or muscle tissue). As a general rule, the deeper the tissue and the more it is covered by bone, the longer doses will be needed to deliver a significant amount of light to that targeted tissue.

Trzeba również uwzględnić wpływ klimatu na duszę. Choć cierpi ona z pewnością w mniejszym stopniu niż skóra, której systemy obronne od potu po gęsią skórkę są pod ciągłym ostrzałem. Niemniej broni się ona, słabo, ale z honorem, w porównaniu z oczami, o których z najlepszą wolą nie powie się nic innego, jak tylko że wysiłek przyprawia je o ślepotę. Bo same na swój sposób będąc rodzajem skóry, jeżeli się pominie ich płyny i powieki, mają więcej niż tylko jednego przeciwnika. Wysuszenie powłoki odbiera nagości wdzięk, zmienia różowość w szarość i sprawia, że ciała miast plaskać, gdy się ze sobą ścierają, szeleszczą jak pokrzywy. Dotknięte tym zwyrodnieniem są nawet błony śluzowe, co byłoby bez znaczenia, gdyby nie przeszkadzało w uprawianiu miłości. Aczkolwiek w niewielkim stopniu, jako że bardzo rzadko zdarza się w walcu erekcja. Niemniej zdarza się czasem, co prowadzi do bardziej lub mniej udanej próby wejścia w najbliższy otwór. W myśl praw prawdopodobieństwa łączą się w taki sposób, nie zdając sobie sprawy, nawet pary małżeńskie. Niesamowity jest widok bolesnych i próżnych zmagań, przeciągających się znacznie ponad miarę dostępną najsprawniejszym kochankom igrającym w sypialni. A wszystko to dlatego, że każdy i każda wie, jak rzadka to okazja i raczej niepowtarzalna. Lecz i oni, gdy tylko pulsowanie ustaje, zamierają w bezruchu, w pozycjach, bywa nieraz, zgoła nieprzyzwoitych, póki kryzys nie minie. W chwili tej jeszcze bardziej niesamowite są oczy, gdyby je tylko było choć trochę lepiej widać, zazwyczaj rozbiegane, a oto nagle zastygłe, utkwione w pustce lub w czymś od dawna znienawidzonym, jak choćby w innych oczach, i topiąc w sobie spojrzenia, zamiast uciekać z nimi. Przerwy te następują w nieregularnych odstępach, na tyle jednak długich, że takim jak ci, bez pamięci, każda wydaje się pierwszą. I stąd za każdym razem reakcja na nią tak silna, jak byłby to koniec świata, i to samo chwilowe zdumienie, kiedy mija, a oni we wznowionej podwójnej nawałnicy znów zaczynają szukać, ani nie czując ulgi, ani nawet zawodu.

Endometriosis, or painful periods? (Endometriosis is when pieces of the uterine lining grow outside of the uterine cavity, such as on the ovaries or bowel, and cause painful periods.) Mood swings, PMS, depression, or just irritability? Weepiness, sometimes over the most ridiculous things? Mini breakdowns? Anxiety? Migraines or other headaches? Insomnia? Brain fog? A red flush on your face (or a diagnosis of rosacea)? Gallbladder problems (or removal)? — PART E — Poor memory (you walk into a room to do something, then wonder what it was, or draw a blank midsentence)? Emotional fragility, especially compared with how you felt ten years ago? Depression, perhaps with anxiety or lethargy (or, more commonly, dysthymia: low-grade depression that lasts more than two weeks)? Wrinkles (your favorite skin cream no longer works miracles)? Night sweats or hot flashes? Trouble sleeping, waking up in the middle of the night? A leaky or overactive bladder? Bladder infections? Droopy breasts, or breasts lessening in volume? Sun damage more obvious, even glaring, on your chest, face, and shoulders? Achy joints (you feel positively geriatric at times)? Recent injuries, particularly to wrists, shoulders, lower back, or knees? Loss of interest in exercise? Bone loss? Vaginal dryness, irritation, or loss of feeling (as if there were layers of blankets between you and the now-elusive toe-curling orgasm)? Lack of juiciness elsewhere (dry eyes, dry skin, dry clitoris)? Low libido (it’s been dwindling for a while, and now you realize it’s half or less than what it used to be)? Painful sex? — PART F — Excess hair on your face, chest, or arms? Acne? Greasy skin and/or hair? Thinning head hair (which makes you question the justice of it all if you’re also experiencing excess hair growth elsewhere)? Discoloration of your armpits (darker and thicker than your normal skin)? Skin tags, especially on your neck and upper torso? (Skin tags are small, flesh-colored growths on the skin surface, usually a few millimeters in size, and smooth. They are usually noncancerous and develop from friction, such as around bra straps. They do not change or grow over time.) Hyperglycemia or hypoglycemia and/or unstable blood sugar? Reactivity and/or irritability, or excessively aggressive or authoritarian episodes (also known as ’roid rage)? Depression? Anxiety? Menstrual cycles occurring more than every thirty-five days? Ovarian cysts? Midcycle pain? Infertility? Or subfertility? Polycystic ovary syndrome? — PART G — Hair loss, including of the outer third of your eyebrows and/or eyelashes? Dry skin? Dry, strawlike hair that tangles easily? Thin, brittle fingernails? Fluid retention or swollen ankles? An additional few pounds, or 20, that you just can’t lose? High cholesterol? Bowel movements less often than once a day, or you feel you don’t completely evacuate? Recurrent headaches? Decreased sweating? Muscle or joint aches or poor muscle tone (you became an old lady overnight)? Tingling in your hands or feet? Cold hands and feet? Cold intolerance? Heat intolerance? A sensitivity to cold (you shiver more easily than others and are always wearing layers)? Slow speech, perhaps with a hoarse or halting voice? A slow heart rate, or bradycardia (fewer than 60 beats per minute, and not because you’re an elite athlete)? Lethargy (you feel like you’re moving through molasses)? Fatigue, particularly in the morning? Slow brain, slow thoughts? Difficulty concentrating? Sluggish reflexes, diminished reaction time, even a bit of apathy? Low sex drive, and you’re not sure why? Depression or moodiness (the world is not as rosy as it used to be)? A prescription for the latest antidepressant but you’re still not feeling like yourself? Heavy periods or other menstrual problems? Infertility or miscarriage? Preterm birth? An enlarged thyroid/goiter? Difficulty swallowing? Enlarged tongue? A family history of thyroid problems?