Excel Escape Quotes

[All the ancient wisdom] tells us that work is necessary to us, as much a part of our condition as mortality; that good work is our salvation and our joy; that shoddy or dishonest or self-serving work is our curse and our doom. We have tried to escape the sweat and sorrow promised in Genesis - only to find that, in order to do so, we must forswear love and excellence, health and joy. (pg. 44, "The Unsettling of America")

He will not succeed in this," Taran said. "Somehow, we must find a way to escape. We dare not lose hope." "I agree absolutely," Fflewddur answered. "Your general idea is excellent; it's only the details that are lacking...

There were profound reasons for his attachment to the sea: he loved it because as a hardworking artist he needed rest, needed to escape from the demanding complexity of phenomena and lie hidden on the bosom of the simple and tremendous; because of a forbidden longing deep within him that ran quite contrary to his life's task and was for that very reason seductive, a longing for the unarticulated and immeasurable, for eternity, for nothingness. To rest in the arms of perfection is the desire of any man intent upon creating excellence; and is not nothingness a form of perfection?

Confined on the ship, from which there is no escape, the madman is delivered to the river with its thousand arms, the sea with its thousand roads, to that great uncertainty external to everything. He is a prisoner in the midst of what is the freest, the openest of routes: bound fast at the infinite crossroads. He is the Passenger par excellence: that is, the prisoner of the passage. And the land he will come to is unknown—as is, once he disembarks, the land from which he comes. He has his truth and his homeland only in that fruitless expanse between two countries that cannot belong to him.

What she liked the most about drinking was not being present, that feeling of self-evasion, of disconnection, of liberation, of escape. Alcohol offered her an excellent alternative to being herself without actually dying.

I have written this because it may have escaped the notice of many who have admired her [Marie Tempest] brilliant performances that they are due not only to her natural gifts...but to patience, assiduity, industry and discipline. Without these it is impossible to excel in any of the arts.

Effy was no great designer, but she was an excellent escape artist. She was always chipping away at the architecture of her life until there was a crack big enough to slip through. Whenever she was faced with danger, her mind manifested a secret doorway, a hole in the floorboards, somewhere she could hide or run to.

Excellent,” said Queen Scarlet, flicking her tongue between her teeth. “A thrilling demonstration. Everything I was hoping for. As you say, Queen Burn, so much for that prophecy now, right? Peril, back to your place.” I hope you know how to control your new champion, Mother. Because she’s not just a threat to me. The crowd of dragons surged back, struggling to stay out of Peril’s path, as the dragonet walked slowly back to the little cage of rocks. This dragon could destroy the entire world.

Staring at the boat sailing further away from sight, Zhou Zishu deliberately muttered a regard of absolute literary excellence, "f*ck you." For most of his life he had mingled with the cultured but degenerate side of society; all they did was spouting Confucious this and Confucious that, never did a rude word escape their mouth. He felt incredibly delighted after blurting out that curse, as if years of pent-up frustrations have vanished completely with it. And to his surprised revelation, cursing turned out to be such an enjoyable thing to do. He was all smiles, whispering once more, "Eat sh*t bastard, got my money and couldn't even do his job right."- Zhou Zishou

I excel at many things," he'd said. "Why not unlikely escapes, too?

The nice people do not come to God, because they think they are good through their own merits or bad through inherited instincts. If they do good, they believe they are to receive the credit for it; if they do evil, they deny that it is their own fault. They are good through their own goodheartedness, they say; but they are bad because they are misfortunate, either in their economic life or through an inheritance of evil genes from their grandparents. The nice people rarely come to God; they take their moral tone from the society in which they live. Like the Pharisee in front of the temple, they believe themselves to be very respectable citizens. Elegance is their test of virtue; to them, the moral is the aesthetic, the evil is the ugly. Every move they make is dictated, not by a love of goodness, but by the influence of their age. Their intellects are cultivated—in knowledge of current events; they read only the bestsellers, but their hearts are undisciplined. They say that they would go to church if the Church were only better—but they never tell you how much better the Church must be before they will join it. They sometimes condemn the gross sins of society, such as murder; they are not tempted to these because they fear the opprobrium which comes to them who commit them. By avoiding the sins which society condemns, they escape reproach, they consider themselves good par excellence.

All sensible people know that vanity is the most devastating, the most universal, and the most ineradicable of the passions that afflict the soul of man, and it is only vanity that makes him deny its power. It is more consuming than love. With advancing years, mercifully, you can snap your fingers at the terror and the servitude of love, but age cannot free you from the thraldom of vanity. Time can assuage the pangs of love, but only death can still the anguish of wounded vanity. Love is simple and seeks no subterfuge, but vanity cozens you with a hundred disguises. It is part and parcel of every virtue: it is mainspring of courage and the strength of ambition; it gives constancy to the lover and endurance to the stoic; it adds fuel to the fire of the artist's desire for fame and is at once the support and the compensation of the honest man's integrity; it leers even cynically in the humility of the saint. You cannot escape it, and should you take pains to guard against it, it will make use of those very pains to trip you up. You are defenseless against its onslaught because you know not on what unprotected side it will attack you. Sincerity cannot protect you from its snare nor humour from its mockery. [His Excellency]

Where life begins, I break off and stand back in fear just as if I had seen the head of the Medusa. The phenomenon of life provokes in me an astonishment from which I cannot recover. I shall undoubtedly make an excellent corpse, for I am really rather a pathetic creature and the meaning of my existence escapes me completely. The sound of my voice surprises me to an unimaginable degree and there are times when I am tempted to think it someone else’s. When I make to stretch out my arm and my arm does what it is told, that seems quite amazing to me and my astonishment knows no bounds.

In the Middle Ages, anyone who tried to escape their duties to society - negative libertarians, in other words, with which today's world is full - were not deemed worthy of consideration. They were pathetic. They were Last Men. Today's world produces them by the legions. They are the primary output of modernity.

Neil had grown up wondering why Kevin and Riko were in that room eight years ago and how they'd overcome it. He'd wondered why their luck and circumstances were so different that they could become international stars while Neil's life spiraled so quickly out of control. He'd hated and worshipped them all his life, jealous of their successes and desperate for them to excel. Now it seemed he'd been wrong all along. Kevin hadn't escaped either. No matter what they did or who they became, maybe they never would.

mean that we must mount them on horses in their earliest youth, and when they have learnt to ride, take them on horseback to see war: the horses must not be spirited and warlike, but the most tractable and yet the swiftest that can be had. In this way they will get an excellent view of what is hereafter to be their own business; and if there is danger they have only to follow their elder leaders and escape. I

As I said, I decided to try an experiment: Right now, from within my perception of my current circumstances, and from within the starkness of this realization, I determined to conceive and focus on what I would tell—and what I have told—my younger self, and live with the consequences. Here is what I wrote down: Immediately disassociate from destructive people and forces, if not physically then ethically—and watch for the moment when you can do so physically. Use every means to improve your mental acuity. Every sacrifice of empty leisure or escapism for study, industry, and growth is a fee paid to personal freedom. Train the body. Grow physically strong. Reduce consumption. You will be strengthened throughout your being. Seek no one’s approval through humor, servility, or theatrics. Be alone if necessary. But do not compromise with low company. At the earliest possible point, learn meditation (i.e., Transcendental Meditation), yoga, and martial arts (select good teachers). Go your own way—literally. Walk/bike and don’t ride the bus or in a car, except when necessary. Do so in all weather: rain, snow, etc. Be independent physically and you will be independent in other ways. Learn-study-rehearse. Pursue excellence. Or else leave something alone. Go to the limit in something or do not approach it. Starve yourself of the compulsion to derive your sense of wellbeing from your perception of what others think of you. Do this as an alcoholic avoids a drink or an addict a needle. It will be agonizing at first, since you may have no other perception of self; but this, finally, is the sole means of experiencing Self. Does this kind of advice, practicable at any time of life, really alter or reselect the perceived past, and, with it, the future? I intend to find out. You

I am often asked by would-be entrepreneurs seeking escape from life within huge corporate structures: “How do I build a small firm for myself?” The answer seems obvious: Buy a very large one and just wait. —Paul Ormerod, economist, Why Most Things Fail: Evolution, Extinction and Economics

Serving the customer (“customer service”) is not becoming a personal concierge and catering to their every whim and want. Customer service is providing an excellent product at an acceptable price and solving legitimate problems (lost packages, replacements, refunds, etc.) in the fastest manner possible. That’s it.

We can take things as slowly as you want, but you know it’s too late now to change your mind, Pierce,” he said, in a warning tone. “Of course,” I said. I could see I had approached this all wrong. Where, when you actually needed one, was one of those annoying women’s magazines with advice on how to handle your man? Although that advice probably didn’t apply to death deities. “Because the Furies are after me. And I promised you that I wouldn’t try to escape. That isn’t what I was-“ “No,” he said, with an abrupt shake of his head. “The Furies have no part in this. It doesn’t matter anymore whether or not you try to escape.” He was pacing the length of the room. A muscle had begun to twitch wildly in the side of his jaw. “I thought you knew. I thought you understood. Haven’t you read Homer?” Not again. Mr. Smith was obsessed with this Homer person, too. “No, John,” I said, with forced patience. “I’m afraid we don’t have time to study the ancient Greek poets in school anymore because we have so much stuff to learn that happened since you died, such as the Civil War and the Holocaust and making files in Excel-“ “Well, considering what they had to say about the Fates,” John interrupted, impatiently, “Homer might possibly have been of more use to you.” “The Fates?” The Fates were something I dimly remembered having been mentioned in the section we’d studied on Greek mythology. They were busybodies who presided over everyone’s destiny. “What did Homer have to say about them?” John dragged a hand through his hair. For some reason, he wouldn’t meet my gaze. “The Fates decreed that anyone who ate or drank in the realm of the dead had to remain there for all eternity.” I stared at him. “Right,” I said. “Only if they are pomegranate seeds, like Persephone. The fruit of the dead.” He stopped pacing suddenly and lifted his gaze to mine. His eyes seemed to burn through to my soul. “Pomegranate seeds are what Persephone happened to eat while she was in the Underworld,” he said. “That’s why they call them the fruit of the dead. But the rule is any food or drink.” A strange feeling of numbness had begun to spread across my body. My mouth became too dry for me to speak. “However you feel about me, Pierce,” he went on, relentlessly, “you’re stuck here with me for the rest of eternity.

Excellent ministers cannot be those who yearn for earthly applause. Neither can they be lovers of earthly comfort. The life of ministry is not a life of leisure. No ministry of any value comes without pain. I often encounter young men headed for the ministry who are looking for a church without problems, a ministry without challenges, a congregation that will make life easy. There is no such place for the faithful preacher of the Word. The notion that ministry can be both effective and painless is a lie. You will encounter hardship if you preach the unadulterated Word. And when adversity strikes, you have two choices. You can endure and remain steadfast, or you can compromise. The faithful minister holds the line for the truth. You cannot do that and escape suffering (2 Tim. 3:12).

There is a wonderful metaphor of the unconscious in Peter Gay’s excellent biography of Freud, Freud: A Life for Our Time (New York: Norton, 1988), p. 128: “Rather, the unconscious proper resembles a maximum-security prison holding anti-social inmates languishing for years or recently arrived, inmates harshly treated and heavily guarded, but barely kept under control and forever attempting to escape” (italics added).

I thought it very likely I might have this sort of untestable power myself. It was kind of logical--no good at sport, alrightish at my studies, there must have been some field in which I excelled. Magic had to be it. It's difficult for adults to picture just what a grip these fantasies can take on a child. There's occasionally a reminder as a kid throws himself off a roof pretending to be Batman, but mostly the interior life of children goes unnoticed. When I say I thought I could be a wizard, that's exactly true. I really did believe I had latent magical powers, and, with enough concentration and fiddling my fingers into strange patterns, I might suddenly find how to unlock the magic inside me. I wouldn't call this a delusion, more a very strong suspicion. I'd weighed all the evidence, and that was the likely conclusion--so much so that I had to stop myself trying to turn Matt Bradon into a fly when he was jumping up and down on the desk in French saying, "Miss, what are mammary glands?" to the big-breasted Miss Mundsley. I feared that, if I succeeded, I might not be able to turn him back. It was important, I knew, to use my powers wisely. There's nothing that you'd have to call a psychoanalyst in for here. At the bottom line my growing interest in fantasy was just an expression of a very common feeling--"there's got to be something better than this," an easy one to have in the drab Midlands of the 1970s. I couldn't see it, though. My world was very small, and I couldn't imagine making things better incrementally, only a total escape.

But too often the media are instead complacent, satisfied with pictures over understanding, conflict over content, profit over purpose. The media amuse and distract rather than disturb and focus. The media excel at entertainment and escape. They too often allow us to avoid the real troubles of the world with barking broadcasters, lavish films, sooth-ing songs, endless e-mail, and infinite networking. At times, the media are even complicit in the division and deprivation that disfigure this globe. They profit from tragedy. They produce a “pornography of grief.

The three castes were “nucleus” (or “core”), “basic” (or “wavering”), and “hostile.” Three criteria determined your caste: your birth and background, your perceived loyalty to the party, and your connections. Academic achievements had nothing to do with it, no matter how excellent they were. Your whole life was determined by which caste you’d been consigned to. If you were deemed “core,” a rosy future awaited you. But if you were deemed “hostile,” you were the lowest of the low and would remain so for life. No career path. No chance of bettering yourself. No way out.

But is work something we have a right to escape? And can we escape it with impunity? We are probably the first entire people ever to think so. All the ancient wisdom that has come down to us counsels otherwise. It tells us that work is necessary to us, as much a part of our condition as mortality; that good work is our salvation and our joy; that shoddy or dishonest or self-serving work is our curse and our doom. We have tried to escape the sweat and sorrow promised in Genesis--only to find that, in order to do so, we must forswear love and excellence, health and joy.

I too, weary of pleading an incomprehensible cause, at six and eight the thousand flowers of rhetoric, let myself drop among the contumacious, nice image that, telescoping space, it must be the Pulitzer Prize, they want to bore me to sleep, at long range, for fear I might defend myself, they want to catch me alive, so as to be able to kill me, thus I shall have lived, they think I’m alive, what a business, were there but a cadaver it would smack of body-snatching, not in a womb either, the slut has yet to menstruate capable of whelping me, that should singularly narrow the field of research, a sperm dying, of cold, in the sheets, feebly wagging its little tail, perhaps I’m a drying sperm, in the sheets of an innocent boy, even that takes time, no stone must be left unturned, one mustn’t be afraid of making a howler, how can one know it is one before it’s made, and one it most certainly is, now that it’s irrevocable, for the good reason, here’s another, here comes another, unless it escapes them in time, what a hope, the bright boy is there, for the excellent reason that counts as living too, counts as murder, it’s notorious, ah you can’t deny it, some people are lucky, born of a wet dream and dead before morning, I must say I’m tempted, no, the testis has yet to descend that would want any truck with me, it’s mutual, another gleam down the drain.

When you are depressed, you may have a tendency to confuse feeling with facts. Your feelings of hopelessness and total despair are just symptoms of depressive illness, not facts. If you think you are hopeless, you will naturally feel this way. Your feelings only trace the illogical pattern of your thinking. Only an expert, who has treated hundreds of depressed individuals, would be in a position to give a meaningful prognosis for recovery. Your suicidal urge merely indicates the need for treatment. Thus, your conviction that you are "hopeless" nearly always proves you are not. Therapy, not suicide, is indicated. Although generalizations can be misleading, I let the following rule of thumb guide me: Patients who feel hopeless never actually are hopeless. The conviction of hopelessness is one of the most curious aspects of depressive illness. In fact, the degree of hopelessness experienced by seriously depressed patients who have an excellent prognosis is usually greater than in terminal malignancy patients with a poor prognosis. It is of great importance to expose the illogic that lurks behind your hopelessness as soon as possible in order to prevent an actual suicide attempt. You may feel convinced that you have an insoluble problem in your life. You may feel that you are caught in a trap from which there is no exit. This may lead to extreme frustration and even to the urge to kill yourself as the only escape.

At the very least, I hope it means I will get my Briony back again. I know, I'll hold a party for her--and take her on a pony ride--I think that will be quite in order, if I can be spared from my official duties for the afternoon." "You're the King," Taris reminded him with a smile. "But you're my conscience, Taris, you know that." "Then your conscience says we should keep his highness's current location secret, but an announcement of his escape is most desirable. Therefore, a party is quite in order--if not essential--for the morale of the nation." "Excellent. I really should promote you, old friend. Only trouble is, there's nowhere to go but down from your office." "I am well aware of that, Your Majesty.

What's the trouble?" I said, knowing well what that trouble was. "I've a notion in my head that would make the most splendid story that was ever written. Do let me write it out here. It's such a notion!" There was no resisting the appeal. I set him a table; he hardly thanked me, but plunged into the work at once. For half an hour the pen scratched without stopping. Then Charlie sighed and tugged his hair. The scratching grew slower, there were more erasures, and at last ceased. The finest story in the world would not come forth. "It looks such awful rot now," he said, mournfully. "And yet it seemed so good when I was thinking about it. What's wrong?" I could not dishearten him by saying the truth. So I answered: "Perhaps you don't feel in the mood for writing." "Yes I do--except when I look at this stuff. Ugh!" "Read me what you've done," I said. "He read, and it was wondrous bad, and he paused at all the specially turgid sentences, expecting a little approval; for he was proud of those sentences, as I knew he would be. "It needs compression," I suggested, cautiously. "I hate cutting my things down. I don't think you could alter a word here without spoiling the sense. It reads better aloud than when I was writing it." "Charlie, you're suffering from an alarming disease afflicting a numerous class. Put the thing by, and tackle it again in a week." "I want to do it at once. What do you think of it?" "How can I judge from a half-written tale? Tell me the story as it lies in your head." Charlie told, and in the telling there was everything that his ignorance had so carefully prevented from escaping into the written word. I looked at him, and wondering whether it were possible that he did not know the originality, the power of the notion that had come in his way? It was distinctly a Notion among notions. Men had been puffed up with pride by notions not a tithe as excellent and practicable. But Charlie babbled on serenely, interrupting the current of pure fancy with samples of horrible sentences that he purposed to use. I heard him out to the end. It would be folly to allow his idea to remain in his own inept hands, when I could do so much with it. Not all that could be done indeed; but, oh so much!

Is it true, what I once heard your sister say, that you don't like to be embraced?" She took some time to think. "Sometimes Livia needs to hold someone, and I'm the only suitable person nearby. When I was little, I used to wriggle out of her arms and escape to a corner of our room. But it wasn't so much that I couldn't stand being held as that I didn't want to be held indefinitely. Later I taught myself to count to three hundred to mark five minutes―which helped me to realize that she needed only about half that time. I can take two to three minutes of being held. But Livia remains hesitant to this day―she's still scarred by my bolting away from her embrace." He would be, too. In fact, sometimes he felt scarred by her, even though she had never done anything except be an excellent friend.

I pulled at the knot again and heard threads begin to pop. “Allow me, Miss Jones,” said Armand, right at my back. There was no gracious way to refuse him. Not with Mrs. Westcliffe there, too. I exhaled and dropped my arms. I stared at the lotus petals in my painting as the new small twists and tugs of Armand’s hands rocked me back and forth. Jesse’s music began to reverberate somewhat more sharply than before. “There,” Armand said, soft near my ear. “Nearly got it.” “Most kind of you, my lord.” Mrs. Westcliffe’s voice was far more carrying. “Do you not agree, Miss Jones?” Her tone said I’d better. “Most kind,” I repeated. For some reason I felt him as a solid warmth behind me, behind all of me, even though only his knuckles made a gentle bumping against my spine. How blasted long could it take to unravel a knot? “Yes,” said Chloe unexpectedly. “Lord Armand is always a perfect gentleman, no matter who or what demands his attention.” “There,” the gentleman said, and at last his hands fell away. The front of the smock sagged loose. I shrugged out of it as fast as I could, wadding it up into a ball. “Excuse me.” I ducked a curtsy and began my escape to the hamper, but Mrs. Westcliffe cut me short. “A moment, Miss Jones. We require your presence.” I turned to face them. Armand was smiling his faint, cool smile. Mrs. Westcliffe looked as if she wished to fix me in some way. I raised a hand instinctively to my hair, trying to press it properly into place. “You have the honor of being invited to tea at the manor house,” the headmistress said. “To formally meet His Grace.” “Oh,” I said. “How marvelous.” I’d rather have a tooth pulled out. “Indeed. Lord Armand came himself to deliver the invitation.” “Least I could do,” said Armand. “It wasn’t far. This Saturday, if that’s all right.” “Um…” “I am certain Miss Jones will be pleased to cancel any other plans,” said Mrs. Westcliffe. “This Saturday?” Unlike me, Chloe had not concealed an inch of ground. “Why, Mandy! That’s the day you promised we’d play lawn tennis.” He cocked a brow at her, and I knew right then that she was lying and that she knew that he knew. She sent him a melting smile. “Isn’t it, my lord?” “I must have forgotten,” he said. “Well, but we cannot disappoint the duke, can we?” “No, indeed,” interjected Mrs. Westcliffe. “So I suppose you’ll have to come along to the tea instead, Chloe.” “Very well. If you insist.” He didn’t insist. He did, however, sweep her a very deep bow and then another to the headmistress. “And you, too, Mrs. Westcliffe. Naturally. The duke always remarks upon your excellent company.” “Most kind,” she said again, and actually blushed. Armand looked dead at me. There was that challenge behind his gaze, that one I’d first glimpsed at the train station. “We find ourselves in harmony, then. I shall see you in a few days, Miss Jones.” I tightened my fingers into the wad of the smock and forced my lips into an upward curve. He smiled back at me, that cold smile that said plainly he wasn’t duped for a moment. I did not get a bow. Jesse was at the hamper when I went to toss in the smock. Before I could, he took it from me, eyes cast downward, no words. Our fingers brushed beneath the cloth. That fleeting glide of his skin against mine. The sensation of hardened calluses stroking me, tender and rough at once. The sweet, strong pleasure that spiked through me, brief as it was. That had been on purpose. I was sure of it.

Dougal lifted his spoon and slit it into his mouth. Immediately, a frozen look came over his face. Sophia tensed. He removed the spoon from his mouth. Sophia gripped her own spoon tighter. A slow red crept up his face, his eyes watering slightly. Ha! Mary's soup was working its magic. Pleased, Sophia pretended to eat some soup. Dougal slapped a hand on the table. The dishes and Sophia jumped. "What's wrong?" He pointed to his bowl with his spoon. "That." "The soup? Why, whatever's wrong with it?" "Nothing.That is the best soup I've ever had." Sophia blinked. Surely he hadn't just said- He dipped his spoon back into his bowl and took another large bite. Though his eyes watered and his face turned a deeper red, he continued to eat, murmuring, "Excellent!" every third bite or so. Sophia looked at her own soup, which reeked of garlic and pepper and onion. Mary had added a large amount of salt, as well. But watching MacLean eat with gusto made her question her perceptions. What if Mary's natural ability to cook had overcome her attempts to provide an inedible meal? Sophia dipped her spoon into herbowl and gingerly sniffed the contents, grimacing at the strong odor. Casting a puzzled look at MacLean, who was about finished with his soup, she put the spoon into her mouth. The burning sensation of pepper mingled with the rancid taste of uncooked garlic and what could only have been salted dishwater. She jerked the spoon from her mouth and grabbed her water goblet, pouring it into her mouth to wash down the horrid taste. Gasping, she glared with watery, accusing eyes at MacLean. He seemed not to have noticed anything, too busy scraping the bottom of his bowl, as if afraid some succulent tidbit might have escaped him. Finding nothing more, he placed his spoon on the table and sat back, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "That was the best soup I've ever been served. I believe I'll have more." "More? Are you...are you certain?" "I'm positive.

The ability to do hard things is perhaps the most useful ability you can foster in yourself or your children. And proof that you are someone who can do them is one of the most useful assets you can have on your life resume. Our self-image is composed of historical evidence of our abilities. The more hard things you push yourself to do, the more competent you will see yourself to be. If you can run marathons or throw double your body weight over your head, the sleep deprivation from a newborn is only a mild irritant. If you can excel at organic chemistry or econometrics, onboarding for a new finance job will be a breeze. But if we avoid hard things, anything mildly challenging will seem insurmountable. We’ll cry into TikTok over an errant period at the end of a text message. We’ll see ourselves as incapable of learning new skills, taking on new careers, and escaping bad situations. The proof you can do hard things is one of the most powerful gifts you can give yourself.

Excellence itself, aretē as the Greeks, virtus as the Romans would have called it, has always been assigned to the public realm where one could excel, could distinguish oneself from all others. Every activity performed in public can attain an excellence never matched in privacy; for excellence, by definition, the presence of others is always required, and this presence needs the formality of the public, constituted by one’s peers, it cannot be the casual, familiar presence of one’s equals or inferiors.40 Not even the social realm—though it made excellence anonymous, emphasized the progress of mankind rather than the achievements of men, and changed the content of the public realm beyond recognition—has been able altogether to annihilate the connection between public performance and excellence. While we have become excellent in the laboring we perform in public, our capacity for action and speech has lost much of its former quality since the rise of the social realm banished these into the sphere of the intimate and the private. This curious discrepancy has not escaped public notice, where it is usually blamed upon an assumed time lag between our technical capacities and our general humanistic development or between the physical sciences, which change and control nature, and the social sciences, which do not yet know how to change and control society. Quite apart from other fallacies of the argument which have been pointed out so frequently that we need not repeat them, this criticism concerns only a possible change in the psychology of human beings—their so-called behavior patterns—not a change of the world they move in. And this psychological interpretation, for which the absence or presence of a public realm is as irrelevant as any tangible, worldly reality, seems rather doubtful in view of the fact that no activity can become excellent if the world does not provide a proper space for its exercise. Neither education nor ingenuity nor talent can replace the constituent elements of the public realm, which make it the proper place for human excellence. 7

Behind her, Annabelle heard Daisy say to Lillian accusingly, “I thought you said that no one ever comes to this meadow!” “That’s what I was told,” Lillian replied, her voice muffled as she stepped into the circle of her gown and bent to jerk it upward. The earl, who had been mute until that point, spoke with his gaze trained studiously on the distant scenery. “Your information was correct, Miss Bowman,” he said in a controlled manner. “This field is usually unfrequented.” “Well, then, why are you here?” Lillian demanded accusingly, as if she, and not Westcliff, was the owner of the estate. The question caused the earl’s head to whip around. He gave the American girl an incredulous glance before he dragged his gaze away once more. “Our presence here is purely coincidental,” he said coldly. “I wished to have a look at the northwest section of my estate today.” He gave the word my a subtle but distinct emphasis. “While Mr. Hunt and I were traveling along the lane, we heard your screaming. We thought it best to investigate, and came with the intention of rendering aid, if necessary. Little did I realize that you would be using this field for…for…” “Rounders-in-knickers,” Lillian supplied helpfully, sliding her arms into her sleeves. The earl seemed incapable of repeating the ridiculous phrase. He turned his horse away and spoke curtly over his shoulder. “I plan to develop a case of amnesia within the next five minutes. Before I do so, I would suggest that you refrain from any future activities involving nudity outdoors, as the next passersby who discover you may not prove to be as indifferent as Mr. Hunt and I.” Despite Annabelle’s mortification, she had to repress a skeptical snort at the earl’s claim of indifference on Hunt’s behalf, not to mention his own. Hunt had certainly managed to get quite an eyeful of her. And though Westcliff’s scrutiny had been far more subtle, it had not escaped her that he had stolen a quick but thorough glance at Lillian before he had veered his horse away. However, in light of her current state of undress, it was hardly the time to deflate Westcliff’s holier-than-thou demeanor. “Thank you, my lord,” Annabelle said with a calmness that pleased her immensely. “And now, having dispensed such excellent advice, I would ask that you allow us some privacy to restore ourselves.” “With pleasure,” Westcliff growled.

Growling softly, Peril opened her mouth again. The next two pieces sailed straight past her head, but the third finally splatted between her teeth, and she snapped her jaws shut around it. It felt like a cold slimy frog had just leaped into her mouth. She chewed for a moment, as long as she could bear it, and then swallowed fast. “No,” she said. “Definitely no. Horrifying amounts of no. That was one hundred percent disgusting.” Turtle laughed. “You’re so wrong,” he said. “It’s awesome. That’s how fish should be eaten.” “Blergh,” Peril said strongly. She hopped to the next boulder, heading for the shore. “I’m going to find something that is the opposite of fish, scorch it, and then coat my tongue with char to get that taste out of my mouth. YUUUCK. You are the worst. I would be so justified in setting you on fire while you’re asleep tonight.” “Duly noted,” Turtle said serenely. “Did I mention I’ll be sleeping at the bottom of the river? You know, if you’re looking for me.” He grinned at her. Peril paused on the riverbank, squinting at him. She had been joking, of course. There were a number of excellent reasons not to set Turtle on fire, which outweighed any potential benefits to doing so. But it unsettled her for a moment to realize that by sleeping in the river — even by standing in the river right now — he could foil any plan she did make, if she ever needed to burn him up. Not that I would. Probably. I most likely would never need to. And I wouldn’t want to, of course, that, too. But she’d never run into a situation where someone could stop her like that, apart from Clay. Maybe I did have an unfair advantage fighting SeaWings in the arena. If I were fighting them in their own part of the world —

Convergent intelligence focuses on one line of thought, ignoring the more complex “divergent” form of intelligence, which involves measuring differing factors. For example, during World War II, the U.S. Army Air Forces asked scientists to devise a psychological exam that would measure a pilot’s intelligence and ability to handle difficult, unexpected situations. One question was: If you are shot down deep in enemy territory and must somehow make it back to friendly lines, what do you do? The results contradicted conventional thinking. Most psychologists expected that the air force study would show that pilots with high IQs would score highly on this test as well. Actually, the reverse was true. The pilots who scored highest were the ones with higher levels of divergent thinking, who could see through many different lines of thought. Pilots who excelled at this, for example, were able to think up a variety of unorthodox and imaginative methods to escape after they were captured behind enemy lines. The difference between convergent and divergent thinking is also reflected in studies on split-brain patients, which clearly show that each hemisphere of the brain is principally hardwired for one or the other. Dr. Ulrich Kraft of Fulda, Germany, writes, “The left hemisphere is responsible for convergent thinking and the right hemisphere for divergent thinking. The left side examines details and processes them logically and analytically but lacks a sense of overriding, abstract connections. The right side is more imaginative and intuitive and tends to work holistically, integrating pieces of an informational puzzle into a whole.” In this book, I take the position that human consciousness involves the ability to create a model of the world and then simulate the model into the future, in order to attain a goal.

In my own mind I find that I can also classify highways advantageously as dominating, equal, or dominated. A dominating highway is one from which, as you drive along it, you are more conscious of the highway than of the country through which you are passing. Six-lane highways, and four-lane highways, particularly in flat country, give this impression. You see the highway itself, the traffic upon it, and the life that has grown up along it and is dependent upon it—all the world of service-stations and garages and restaurants and motor-courts. To many people, of whom I am one, parkways produce the same effect. Although esthetically beautiful, the artificial landscape on both sides of the parkway becomes part of the road itself, and is divorced from the countryside and from reality. The parkway by-passes towns, and therefore the motorist has no sense of actuality. A parkway is excellent at providing unimpeded transportation, and for allowing the city-dweller his escape, but when you drive along the parkway, you are not seeing the real United States of America. The dominated highway, on the contrary, is one which seems to be oppressed and to lose its own identity because of the surroundings through which it is passing. Highways are dominated when they pass along city streets. There is too much close by on either hand. There is too much local traffic that has not the slightest concern with the farther reaches of the highway. On the other hand, highways may be dominated when they are comparatively small roads passing through high mountains or vast plains. Again the highway becomes insignificant, and one's interest is pulled outward, away from it. In between, lies the equal highway, that one which seems to be an intimate and integral part of the countryside through which it is passing. On such a road there is a division of interest between one's focus upon the highway and its margin and upon the country back from the highway. . . .

But it’s true that I have faced the Dark Court and lived. I suppose I could survive this peril as well, if need be.” “What? Oh—no. I mean…” Eddi faltered and shook her head. “I’m not good at saying this kind of thing. I always sound stupid or too casual or…” “My poet, betrayed by words?” He smiled crookedly. “I never said I was a poet. Besides, it’s not the same thing. This is public speaking.” She smiled weakly and looked at his ruffles. He set his hands on her shoulders, but they were motionless and weightless. “You’ve kept me alive for the last three months,” Eddie began, groping furiously for the words. “You’ve made me coffee. You’ve carried my amplifier.” A nervous chuckled escaped her. “And you’ve been pretty good company. Even when you were being a jerk, you were pretty good company, now that I look back on it.” “But,” he said without inflection. Eddi looked up at him, alarmed. “But? Oh, hell, I told you I was bad at this! No, no buts. You’re a wonderful person. Even if you are a supernatural being. Damn it, Phouka, how am I going to tell my mother that I’m in love with a guy who turns into a dog?” She blushed; she could feel it. A silence of unreasonable proportions followed; the phouka’s only response was a quick spasm of his fingers on her shoulders. “Are you in love with him, then?” “I said so, didn’t I?” “Not quite.” There was a smile twitching in the corner of his mouth. “All right, Al right.” Eddi took a long breath. “I love you.” “There. Now why should that be so hard to say?” “Because it sounds like something out of a soap opera,” Eddi grumbled. “Does it? Not to me. The best line from a favorite song, perhaps.” His smile softened his whole face in a way she hadn’t seen before. “That’s because you’re a damned romantic.” He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear on one side. “Then you’re a doubly damned romantic, my heart, since you won’t even admit it. But perhaps with my excellent example before you…” Eddi caught at his disconcerting fingers, which were now tracing the edge of her ear, and kissed his knuckles. “You’re a jerk,” she said fondly. “Where were we going, when we got distracted?” “Earth and Air, I’d forgotten! It’s your fault, you know. The color of your hair in the moonlight, the curve of your waist, the—” “You’re going to forget again.” “You’re quite right. But I’ll try not to do so for at least a few minutes. You will enjoy this, I think.” He flashed her a grin and folded his fingers around hers. “Come along, then.

But there were problems. After the movie came out I couldn’t go to a tournament without being surrounded by fans asking for autographs. Instead of focusing on chess positions, I was pulled into the image of myself as a celebrity. Since childhood I had treasured the sublime study of chess, the swim through ever-deepening layers of complexity. I could spend hours at a chessboard and stand up from the experience on fire with insight about chess, basketball, the ocean, psychology, love, art. The game was exhilarating and also spiritually calming. It centered me. Chess was my friend. Then, suddenly, the game became alien and disquieting. I recall one tournament in Las Vegas: I was a young International Master in a field of a thousand competitors including twenty-six strong Grandmasters from around the world. As an up-and-coming player, I had huge respect for the great sages around me. I had studied their masterpieces for hundreds of hours and was awed by the artistry of these men. Before first-round play began I was seated at my board, deep in thought about my opening preparation, when the public address system announced that the subject of Searching for Bobby Fischer was at the event. A tournament director placed a poster of the movie next to my table, and immediately a sea of fans surged around the ropes separating the top boards from the audience. As the games progressed, when I rose to clear my mind young girls gave me their phone numbers and asked me to autograph their stomachs or legs. This might sound like a dream for a seventeen-year-old boy, and I won’t deny enjoying the attention, but professionally it was a nightmare. My game began to unravel. I caught myself thinking about how I looked thinking instead of losing myself in thought. The Grandmasters, my elders, were ignored and scowled at me. Some of them treated me like a pariah. I had won eight national championships and had more fans, public support and recognition than I could dream of, but none of this was helping my search for excellence, let alone for happiness. At a young age I came to know that there is something profoundly hollow about the nature of fame. I had spent my life devoted to artistic growth and was used to the sweaty-palmed sense of contentment one gets after many hours of intense reflection. This peaceful feeling had nothing to do with external adulation, and I yearned for a return to that innocent, fertile time. I missed just being a student of the game, but there was no escaping the spotlight. I found myself dreading chess, miserable before leaving for tournaments. I played without inspiration and was invited to appear on television shows. I smiled.

... we find a complete contradiction in our wishing to live without suffering, a contradiction that is therefore implied by the frequently used phrase “blessed life.” This will certainly be clear to the person who has fully grasped my discussion that follows. This contradiction is revealed in this ethic of pure reason itself by the fact that the Stoic is compelled to insert a recommendation of suicide in his guide to the blissful life (for this is what his ethics always remains). This is like the costly phial of poison to be found among the magnificent ornaments and apparel of oriental despots, and is for the case where the sufferings of the body, incapable of being philosophized away by any principles and syllogisms, are paramount and incurable. Thus its sole purpose, namely blessedness, is frustrated, and nothing remains as a means of escape from pain except death. But then death must be taken with unconcern, just as is any other medicine. Here a marked contrast is evident between the Stoic ethics and all those other ethical systems mentioned above. These ethical systems make virtue directly and in itself the aim and object, even with the most grievous sufferings, and will not allow a man to end his life in order to escape from suffering. But not one of them knew how to express the true reason for rejecting suicide, but they laboriously collected fictitious arguments of every kind. This true reason will appear in the fourth book in connexion with our discussion. But the above-mentioned contrast reveals and confirms just that essential difference to be found in the fundamental principle between the Stoa, really only a special form of eudaemonism, and the doctrines just mentioned, although both often agree in their results, and are apparently related. But the above-mentioned inner contradiction, with which the Stoic ethics is affected even in its fundamental idea, further shows itself in the fact that its ideal, the Stoic sage as represented by this ethical system, could never obtain life or inner poetical truth, but remains a wooden, stiff lay-figure with whom one can do nothing. He himself does not know where to go with his wisdom, and his perfect peace, contentment, and blessedness directly contradict the nature of mankind, and do not enable us to arrive at any perceptive representation thereof. Compared with him, how entirely different appear the overcomers of the world and voluntary penitents, who are revealed to us, and are actually produced, by the wisdom of India; how different even the Saviour of Christianity, that excellent form full of the depth of life, of the greatest poetical truth and highest significance, who stands before us with perfect virtue, holiness, and sublimity, yet in a state of supreme suffering.

Day 4 Jehovah-Nissi __________, I call your spirit to attention in the name of Jehovah-Nissi, God who promised to be at war against the Amalekites from generation to generation. The context of the story is of Moses having to lead his people into battle when they weren’t ready to go to war. They were attacked by the Amalekites. As he lifted his hands to the Lord, the Lord warred on behalf of Israel. __________, I bless your spirit with knowing when to war and when to lift your hands to the Lord. There will be seasons when God calls you to use the greatest of your strength. There will be seasons when God presses you to the wall and yet expects you to work hard, like Israel had to make bricks; then they had to make bricks in a harder way without straw. Then they had to march during the middle of the night to escape from Egypt. There will be times when God will celebrate the gifts that He has placed in you, when He will celebrate your strength. At times God will place you in a context where every talent and ability that you possess can be brought to the front and be used to make changes in the kingdom. That is good. That is fine. That is excellent. That is the will of God. But there will be times, __________, when God will very specifically put you in a place where everything that you have is not good enough, where you have to do something you have never done before. Enemies that you have never irritated will seek to attack you just because they are opportunistic. I bless you, __________, with having the courage not to depend on a skillset that is inadequate but to have the courage to lift your hands up to God on the mountaintop and ask Jehovah-Nissi to war for you. Because where you are inexperienced against any enemy, Jehovah-Nissi has the experience of the ages. Where you don’t know how to do it, Jehovah-Nissi has done it endless times. Where you have not walked that way before, Jehovah-Nissi has worn a path with the mighty tread of His feet. __________, Jehovah-Nissi has promised and recorded in Scripture that He cannot lie, that He will be at war against the opportunistic coyote, the spirit of Amalek that prowls around. It never attacks directly but takes advantage of your vulnerabilities, takes advantage of the opportune times of transition when you are not ready for war. Jehovah-Nissi has promised to war on your behalf. __________, I bless you with finding profound security in Jehovah-Nissi, celebrating your giftedness while always knowing that Jehovah-Nissi is there for those battles that He permits which you don’t anticipate. He anticipates the battles that blindside you on a path that you’ve never walked before. Israel did not know the desert area. The Amalekites lived there. Israel didn’t know the safe places, the high places, the hidden places. They didn’t know how to craft an effective war strategy. They just went out and bumbled around while Moses stood on the mountain with his hands lifted high. __________, celebrate your areas of strength, but when you are in a new area and the enemy attacks you and you don’t know what to do or how to do or where to do it, go to the mountaintop. Lift your hands and let Jehovah-Nissi war on your behalf. I bless you with knowing Jehovah-Nissi experientially in your generation. I bless you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.

Will you get fat?" the king blurted out at Luce,eyeing her corset-squeezed waist. "I like the way she looks now," he said to the duke. "But I don't want her to get fat." Had she been in her own body, Luce might have told the king exactly what she thought of his unappealing physique. But Lys had perfect composure, and Luce felt herself reply, "I should hope to always please the king,with my looks and with my temperament." "Yes,of course," the duke purred, walking a tight circle around Luce. "I'm sure His Majesty could keep the princess on the diet of his choice." "What about hunting?" the king asked. "Your Majesty," the duke began to say, "that isn't befitting a queen. You have plenty of other hunting companions. I,for one-" "My father is an excellent hunter," Luce said. Her brain was whirling, working toward something-anything-that might help her escape this scene. "Should I bed down with your father, then?" the king sneered. "Knowing Your Majesty likes guns," Luce said, straining to keep her tone polite, "I have brought you a gift-my father's most prized hunting rifle. He'd asked me to bring it to you this evening,but I wasn't sure when I'd have the pleasure of making your acquaintance." She had the king's full attention. He was perched on the edge of this throne. "What's it look like? Are there jewels in its butt?" "The...the stock is hand-carved from cherrywood," she said,feeding the king the details Bill called out from where he stood beside the king's chair. "The bore was milled by-by-" "Oh,what would sound impressive? By a Russian metalworker who has since gone to work for the czar." Bill leaned over the king's pastries and sniffed hungrily. "These look good.

Walter the Farting Dog.” The six geese spun around and farted, their tail feathers flipping up in sync with the noisy blasts. “Excellent. End story time.” The geese slumped

excellent,” the woman assured Sierra, resting

Strelsin asked CEOs an easy question: “How would you describe the most important aspect of your role in the organization?” The CEOs whose companies were inconsistent in their performance prioritized creating a vision, building a specific corporate culture, and developing a specific business strategy. But when Strelsin posed the same question to CEOs of industry-leading companies, most said that they had made it their personal mission, above all else, to simplify the lives of those who worked below them. They pursued simplification in a number of ways: they simplified their strategies so their peers and subordinates could focus on the most important challenges. They simplified their hierarchies, so that their companies could execute their strategies more effectively. They made it a priority to communicate in clear prose that inspired everyone to join in their company’s respective mission. In short, the most successful executives in Strelsin’s study excelled in their jobs because they regarded themselves not merely as CEOs, but as chief simplifiers.

But it’s true that I have faced the Dark Court and lived. I suppose I could survive this peril as well, if need be.” “What? Oh—no. I mean…” Eddi faltered and shook her head. “I’m not good at saying this kind of thing. I always sound stupid or too casual or…” “My poet, betrayed by words?” He smiled crookedly. “I never said I was a poet. Besides, it’s not the same thing. This is public speaking.” She smiled weakly and looked at his ruffles. He set his hands on her shoulders, but they were motionless and weightless. “You’ve kept me alive for the last three months,” Eddie began, groping furiously for the words. “You’ve made me coffee. You’ve carried my amplifier.” A nervous chuckled escaped her. “And you’ve been pretty good company. Even when you were being a jerk, you were pretty good company, now that I look back on it.” “But,” he said without inflection. Eddi looked up at him, alarmed. “But? Oh, hell, I told you I was bad at this! No, no buts. You’re a wonderful person. Even if you are a supernatural being. Damn it, Phouka, how am I going to tell my mother that I’m in love with a guy who turns into a dog?” She blushed; she could feel it. A silence of unreasonable proportions followed; the phouka’s only response was a quick spasm of his fingers on her shoulders. “Are you in love with him, then?” “I said so, didn’t I?” “Not quite.” There was a smile twitching in the corner of his mouth. “All right, All right.” Eddi took a long breath. “I love you.” “There. Now why should that be so hard to say?” “Because it sounds like something out of a soap opera,” Eddi grumbled. “Does it? Not to me. The best line from a favorite song, perhaps.” His smile softened his whole face in a way she hadn’t seen before. “That’s because you’re a damned romantic.” He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear on one side. “Then you’re a doubly damned romantic, my heart, since you won’t even admit it. But perhaps with my excellent example before you…” Eddi caught at his disconcerting fingers, which were now tracing the edge of her ear, and kissed his knuckles. “You’re a jerk,” she said fondly. “Where were we going, when we got distracted?” “Earth and Air, I’d forgotten! It’s your fault, you know. The color of your hair in the moonlight, the curve of your waist, the—” “You’re going to forget again.” “You’re quite right. But I’ll try not to do so for at least a few minutes. You will enjoy this, I think.” He flashed her a grin and folded his fingers around hers. “Come along, then.

shoulder. “If your young man is innocent he’ll be all right. British justice is deservedly respected all the world over.” “But the p’lice, they’re something chronic; they’ll worm anything out of you,” blubbered Nellie. “Don’t get any wrong ideas about our excellent police force into your head,” Mr. Slocomb admonished her. “They are the friends of the innocent. Of course this is very unfortunate for your young man, but surely——” “There ’e is, my poor Bob, in a nasty cell! Oh, sir, d’you think they’ll let me see ’im?” “Well, really——” began Mr. Slocomb; but the conversation was interrupted by a strident call. “Nellie! Nellie! What are you about? Pull yourself together, girl! We have to dine even if...” Mrs. Bliss, the proprietress of the Frampton, flowingly clothed in black satin, paused in the doorway. “Dear me, Mr. Slocomb; you must be wondering what’s come to me, shouting all over the house like this! But really, my poor nerves are so jangled I hardly know where I am! To think of dear Miss Pongleton, always so particular, poor soul, lying there on the stairs—dear, dear, dear!” Nellie had slipped past Mrs. Bliss and scuttled back to the kitchen. Mr. Slocomb noticed that Mrs. Bliss’s black satin was unrelieved by the usual loops of gold chain and pearls, and concluded that this restraint was in token of respect to the deceased. “Yes, indeed, Mrs. Bliss, you must be distraught. Indeed a terrible affair! And this poor girl is in great distress about young Bob Thurlow, but I would advise you to keep her mind on her work, Mrs. Bliss; work is a wonderful balm for harassed nerves. A dreadful business! I only know, of course, the sparse details which I have just read in the evening Press.” “You’ve heard nothing more, Mr. Slocomb? Nellie’s Bob is a good-for-nothing, we all know”—Mrs. Bliss’s tone held sinister meaning—“but I’m sure none of us thought him capable of this!” “We must not think him so now, Mrs. Bliss, until—and unless—we are reluctantly compelled to do so,” Mr. Slocomb told her in his most pompous manner. “And Bob was always so good to poor Miss Pongleton’s Tuppy. The little creature is very restless; mark my words, he’s beginning to pine! Now I wonder, Mr. Slocomb, what I ought to do with him? What would you advise? Perhaps poor Miss Pongleton’s nephew, young Mr. Basil, would take him—though in lodgings, of course, I hardly know. There’s many a landlady would think a dog nothing but a nuisance, and little return for it, but of course what I have done for the poor dear lady I did gladly——” “Indeed, Mrs. Bliss, we have always counted you as one of Tuppy’s best friends. And as you say, Bob Thurlow was good to him, too; he took him for walks, I believe?” “He always seemed so fond of the poor little fellow; who could believe ... Well! well! And they say dogs know! What was that saying Mr. Blend was so fond of at one time—before your day, I daresay it would be: True humanity shows itself first in kindness to dumb animals. Out of one of his scrap-books. Well, the truest sayings sometimes go astray! But I must see after that girl; and cook’s not much better, she’s so flustered she’s making Nellie ten times worse. She can’t keep her tongue still a moment!” Mrs. Bliss bustled away, and Mr. Slocomb, apparently rather exasperated by her chatter, made his escape as soon as she had removed herself from the doorway. As Mrs. Bliss returned to the kitchen she thought: “Well, I’m glad he’s here; that’s some comfort; always so helpful—but goodness knows what the dinner will be like!” CHAPTER TWO THE FRUMPS DINNER at the Frampton that evening was eaten to the accompaniment of livelier conversation than usual, and now and again from one of the little tables an excited voice would rise to a pitch that dominated the surrounding talk until the owner of the voice, realizing her unseemly assertiveness on this solemn evening, would fall into lowered tones or awkward silence. The boarders discussed the murder callously. One’s

The Importance of Books in Our Lives Books have always been an integral part of human civilization, shaping societies, preserving knowledge, and fostering personal growth. From ancient manuscripts to modern digital eBooks, they provide a gateway to learning, imagination, and personal development. Books serve as a bridge to the past, allowing readers to explore the thoughts, ideas, and cultures of previous generations. They also encourage critical thinking by offering multiple perspectives on topics ranging from philosophy and science to art and fiction. One of the greatest values of books lies in their ability to educate. Whether it's academic textbooks, biographies, or self-help guides, books impart knowledge that helps individuals excel in personal and professional spheres. Students, for example, rely heavily on textbooks to prepare for exams, while professionals may turn to industry-specific literature to stay updated with new trends and technologies. Beyond formal education, reading fosters self-improvement by exposing individuals to new ideas, challenges, and perspectives that expand their thinking and worldview. Books also serve as an escape from reality, providing readers with an opportunity to dive into new worlds and experience life from different perspectives. Fictional genres, such as fantasy, mystery, and romance, offer entertainment while simultaneously inspiring empathy and creativity. A reader can embark on an adventure through the pages of a novel or experience a new culture through travel literature. In this sense, books become companions that help readers unwind, dream, and explore the unknown, even from the comfort of their homes. In addition to their educational and recreational benefits, books play a critical role in personal development. Self-help books guide readers through personal challenges by offering advice on mental health, relationships, or financial management. Biographies of influential personalities inspire readers to overcome obstacles and achieve success. Books also promote empathy by helping readers understand emotions and experiences different from their own. When individuals read about the struggles, triumphs, and perspectives of others, they become more compassionate and socially aware. Furthermore, books foster a lifelong habit of learning and personal reflection. They help develop concentration and focus, as reading requires sustained attention. This is particularly important in the digital age, where people are often distracted by social media and short-form content. Regular reading improves vocabulary, communication skills, and analytical thinking, all of which contribute to personal and professional growth. Additionally, books promote mental well-being, offering a sense of comfort and relaxation to readers. Many people find solace in reading, especially during challenging times, as books can provide both emotional support and practical solutions. Even in a world dominated by technology, the relevance of books remains undiminished. While the formats may change—moving from physical books to audiobooks and eBooks—their essence and purpose remain

BARTON CENTRE, 912, 9th Floor, Mahatma Gandhi Rd, Bengaluru, Karnataka - 560 001 Phone Number +91 8884400919 ### Uncover Sri Lanka's Enchantment: Your Upcoming Tropical Vacation Are you looking for the ideal tropical getaway with stunning scenery, a thriving culture, and a fascinating past? You need look no farther than a Surfnxt sri lanka tour package from bangalore. Known as the "Pearl of the Indian Sea," this island country tempts with its stunning regular excellence, cordial individuals, and various remarkable encounters. #### A Landscape Tapestry From immaculate beaches to verdant tea plantations and foggy mountainous areas, Sri Lanka is well known for its varied landscapes. Engaging in a tour from Bangalore allows you to fully experience the island's natural splendors. Explore the golden beaches of As you venture inland, you'll end up in the core of Sri Lanka's tea country. The picturesque slopes of Nuwara Eliya and Ella are covered with undulating green tea manors, making a postcard-wonderful background. Here, you can partake in a directed visit through a tea manufacturing plant and relish newly prepared Ceylon tea while looking at the shocking vistas. #### A Jump into History and Culture Past its shocking view, Sri Lanka is saturated with a rich social legacy that goes back millennia. The old city of Anuradhapura offers a brief look into the island's regal past with its very much safeguarded ruins and consecrated locales like the Sri Maha Bodhi tree, accepted to be the most seasoned living tree on the planet. Likewise, Polonnaruwa, the second capital of antiquated Sri Lanka, flaunts noteworthy archeological locales, including sanctuaries and sculptures that mirror the island's imaginative ability. Your Sri Lanka visit bundle will likewise incorporate the chance to encounter the nearby culture through customary moves, music, and culinary joys. Try not to miss attempting neighborhood top picks like containers, kottu roti, and the famous Sri Lankan curry, which burst with flavor and mirror the island's assorted culinary impacts. #### Special Untamed life Experiences Sri Lanka is a sanctuary for untamed life devotees. The island is home to a few public parks, including Yala and Udawalawe, where you can set out on an exhilarating safari. Spotting great elephants, panthers, and a heap of bird animal types is an elating encounter that couple of can stand up to. The opportunity to notice such heavenly animals right at home is really extraordinary. #### Consistent Travel from Bangalore sri lanka tour package from bangalore has never been more straightforward. With numerous flight choices, your tropical escape is only a couple of hours away. Entering an alternate world, with its accommodating local people and energetic business sectors, makes certain to be a reviving change from the hurrying around of city life. #### Your Process Is standing by With Surfnxt, you can modify your Sri Lanka visit bundle to accommodate your own inclinations, guaranteeing that each snapshot of your process is extraordinary. Whether you're looking for unwinding on flawless sea shores, experience in the mountains, or social advancement, Sri Lanka is the best objective for your next occasion. Enjoy the tranquility, experience, and appeal that look for you on this charming island. Prepare to investigate the sorcery of Sri Lanka — your tropical escape begins now!

Address BARTON CENTRE, 912, 9th Floor, Mahatma Gandhi Rd, Bengaluru, Karnataka - 560 001 Phone Number +91 8884400919 Set out on an exhilarating experience to the hypnotizing scenes and energetic societies of Kenya Tour Package From Bangalore. Kenya, eminent for its different natural life, unblemished sea shores, and rich social legacy, offers a really remarkable travel insight. This article fills in as a thorough manual for help you plan and capitalize on your Kenya visit, from the arranging stages to investigating the staggering attractions and drenching in the nearby customs. Find the miracles that look for you in Kenya and prepare for a remarkable excursion that could only be described as epic. Prologue to Kenya Visit Bundles Assuming you're hoping to set out on an exhilarating experience that joins untamed life, nature, and culture, Kenya is the ideal location for your next excursion. With its different scenes, colorful untamed life, and dynamic culture, Kenya offers a special encounter for explorers searching something strange. Why Pick Kenya for Your Next Get-away Kenya's charm lies in its dazzling public parks overflowing with natural life, flawless sea shores with completely clear waters, and a rich social legacy that makes certain to spellbind your faculties. Whether you're a nature darling, experience searcher, or essentially hoping to loosen up in a tropical heaven, Kenya has something for everybody. Outline of Surfnxt's Kenya Visit Bundle from Bangalore Surfnxt's Kenya visit bundle from Bangalore is intended to offer you a remarkable involvement with the core of Africa. From exciting safari undertakings to loosening up ocean side escapes, this bundle has everything. With master guides, agreeable facilities, and consistent planned operations, Surfnxt guarantees that your excursion to Kenya is absolutely phenomenal. Arranging Your Outing from Bangalore to Kenya While arranging your Kenya Tour Package From Bangalore, it's fundamental to consider the booking system and essential records expected for a smooth travel insight. Furthermore, understanding the best chance to visit Kenya can assist you with taking full advantage of your excursion. Booking Interaction and Important Archives Booking your Kenya visit bundle with Surfnxt is simple and bother free. Just follow the means given by Surfnxt's group, and guarantee you have every one of the important records like a legitimate identification, visa, and travel protection to stay away from any last-minute inconveniences. Best Opportunity to Visit Kenya The best chance to visit Kenya is during the dry season, which normally falls between June to October and January to February. During this time, you can observer the Incomparable Relocation in Masai Mara and appreciate clear skies for ideal natural life seeing and open air exercises. Features of Kenya Visit Bundle with Surfnxt Set out on an extraordinary excursion with Surfnxt's Kenya visit bundle as you dig into the entrancing safari undertakings in Kenya's famous public stops and enjoy ocean side escapes and water exercises along the staggering shoreline. Safari Undertakings in Kenya's Public Parks Get ready to observe the lofty Huge Five - lions, elephants, bison, panthers, and rhinos - right at home as you continue exciting safari trips in Kenya's undeniably popular public stops like Masai Mara and Amboseli. Ocean side Escapes and Water Exercises in Kenya Loosen up on the perfect sea shores of Diani and Watamu, where you can absorb the sun, swim in turquoise waters, and participate in exciting water exercises like swimming, jumping, and water sports, making your get-away in Kenya genuinely remarkable. Investigating the Untamed life and Nature in Kenya Experience the crude excellence of Kenya's untamed life and nature as you experience the famous Large Five on safari and visit protection focuses and holds devoted to saving the country's rich biodiversity.

Open mouth—spirit escapes. Closed mouth—spirit connection excellent!

This is aretē; this is the best human prize and the fairest for a young man to win.” The man who fights without pause among the promachoi “is a common good (xynon esthlon) for the polis and all the people (demos).” … “If he falls among the promachoi and loses his dear life, he brings honor to his town (asty) and his people (laoi) and his father.” Young and old alike lament him / and his entire polis mourns with painful regret. / His tomb and his children are notable among men, / and his children’s children, and his genos hereafter … / but if he escapes the doom of death … having prevailed [in battle], … / all men give place to him alike, the youth and the elders…. / Growing old he is distinguished among his citizens. Never does his name or his excellent glory (kleos) perish, but even though he is beneath the earth he is immortal.

Section 3. Confirmed also by the vain endeavours of the wicked to banish all fear of God from their minds. Conclusion, that the knowledge of God is naturally implanted in the human mind. All men of sound judgement will therefore hold, that a sense of Deity is indelibly engraven on the human heart. And that this belief is naturally engendered in all, and thoroughly fixed as it were in our very bones, is strikingly attested by the contumacy of the wicked, who, though they struggle furiously, are unable to extricate themselves from the fear of God. Though Diagoras[4], and others of like stamps make themselves merry with whatever has been believed in all ages concerning religion, and Dionysus scoffs at the judgement of heaven, it is but a Sardonian grin; for the worm of conscience, keener than burning steel, is gnawing them within. I do not say with Cicero, that errors wear out by age, and that religion increases and grows better day by day. For the world (as will be shortly seen) labours as much as it can to shake off all knowledge of God, and corrupts his worship in innumerable ways. I only say, that, when the stupid hardness of heart, which the wicked eagerly court as a means of despising God, becomes enfeebled, the sense of Deity, which of all things they wished most to be extinguished, is still in vigour, and now and then breaks forth. Whence we infer, that this is not a doctrine which is first learned at school, but one as to which every man is, from the womb, his own master; one which nature herself allows no individual to forget, though many, with all their might, strive to do so. Moreover, if all are born and live for the express purpose of learning to know God, and if the knowledge of God, in so far as it fails to produce this effect, is fleeting and vain, it is clear that all those who do not direct the whole thoughts and actions of their lives to this end fail to fulfil the law of their being. This did not escape the observation even of philosophers. For it is the very thing which Plato meant (in Phoed. et Theact.) when he taught, as he often does, that the chief good of the soul consists in resemblance to God; i.e., when, by means of knowing him, she is wholly transformed into him. Thus Gryllus, also, in Plutarch, (lib. guod bruta anim. ratione utantur,) reasons most skilfully, when he affirms that, if once religion is banished from the lives of men, they not only in no respect excel, but are, in many respects, much more wretched than the brutes, since, being exposed to so many forms of evil, they continually drag on a troubled and restless existence: that the only thing, therefore, which makes them superior is the worship of God, through which alone they aspire to immortality.

The second letter was sealed plainly, with no crest. I flung myself onto my pillows, broke the seal impatiently, and read: My Dear Countess: You say you would prefer discourse to gifts. I am yours to command. I will confess my hesitancy was due largely to my own confusion. It seems, from my vantage anyway, that you are surrounded by people in whom you could confide and from whom you could obtain excellent advice. Your turning to a faceless stranger for both could be ascribed to a taste for the idiosyncratic if not to mere caprice. I winced and dropped the paper to the table. “Well, I asked for the truth,” I muttered, and picked it up again. But I am willing to serve as foil, if foil you require. Judging from what you reported of your conversation with your lady of high rank, the insights you requested are these: First, with regard to her hint that someone else in power lied about rendering assistance at a crucial moment the year previous, you will not see either contender for power with any clarity until you ascertain which of them is telling the truth. Second, she wishes to attach you to her cause. From my limited understanding of said lady, I suspect she would not so bestir herself unless she believed you to be in, at least potentially, a position of influence. There was no signature, no closing. I read it through three times, then folded it carefully and fitted it inside one of my books. Pulling a fresh sheet of paper before me, I wrote: Dear Unknown: The only foil--actually, fool--here is me, which isn’t any pleasure to write. But I don’t want to talk about my past mistakes, I just want to learn to avoid making the same or like ones in future. Your advice about the event of last year (an escape) I thought of already and have begun my investigation. As for this putative position of power, it’s just that. I expect you’re being confused by my proximity to power--my brother being friend to the possible king and my living here in the Residence. But believe me, no one could possibly be more ignorant or less influential than I. With a sense of relief I folded that letter up, sealed it, and gave it to Mora to send along the usual route. Then I went gratefully to sleep.

It was not so much, Paul was beginning, justifiably, to believe, to support extravagant wives that men toiled in the city, as was the opinion generally expressed, especially by foreign visitors, as it was to escape from these wives. (….) They were having, he was by way of informing himself, an extraordinarily good time. To be sure, they dashed nimbly after the dollar, but even that part of the game resembled gambling or fox-hunting. It was an adventure replete with frills, false trails, happy discoveries, comic coincidences. There was so much, indeed, of sportsman's luck in everything that went on there that Wall Street was prone to impress him as a kind of glorified Monte Carlo, the Circassian walnut cabinets in each office, stored with liquors and tobacco, supplying the place of the bar, while the Stock Exchange made an excellent substitute for the salle de jeu.

I’m sorry,” she said quietly, knowing that he was thinking about Mark Bennett, the friend he hadn’t been able to save. “I know why this medal is so odious to you.” Christopher made no reply. From the near-palpable tension he radiated, she understood that of all the dark memories he harbored, this was one of the worst. “Is it possible to refuse the medal?” she asked. “To forfeit it?” “Not voluntarily. I’d have to do something illegal or hideous to invoke the expulsion clause.” “We could plan a crime for you to commit,” Beatrix suggested. “I’m sure my family would have some excellent suggestions.” Christopher looked at her then, his eyes like silvered glass in the moonlight. For a moment Beatrix feared the attempt at levity might have annoyed him. But then there was a catch of laughter in his throat, and he folded her into his arms. “Beatrix,” he whispered. “I’ll never stop needing you.” They lingered outside for a few minutes longer than they should have, kissing and caressing until they were both breathless with frustrated need. A quiet groan escaped him, and he tugged her up from the bench and brought her back into the house.

Even the excellent dessert didn’t improve her mood. I had something called Decadent Lava Cake, which was very good, although the decadence escaped me. Jackie had ordered a kind of crème brûlée, but once again she didn’t really eat it. She picked a small piece of caramelized crust off the top and crunched on it, but that was all. I began to wonder whether perhaps she took vitamin shots in secret; she certainly didn’t eat enough to sustain human life.

The complacency of the individual who admires his own excellence is bad enough, but it is more respectable than the complacency of the man who has no self-esteem because he has not even a superficial self which he can esteem. He is not a person, not an individual, only an atom. This atomized existence is sometimes praised as humility or as self-sacrifice, some-times it is called obedience, sometimes it is devotion to the dialectic of class war. It produces a kind of peace which is not peace, but only the escape from an immediately urgent sense of conflict. It is the peace not of love but of anesthesia. It is the peace not of self-realization and self-dedication, but of flight into irresponsibility.

The blackguard had probably shot Victor, or worse, Dom! And he was getting away! Not on her watch, he wasn’t. She didn’t stop to think. As he came abreast of the carriage, she swung the door of the carriage open, directly into his path. It knocked him right off his feet. As he lay there, stunned, she leaped out and marched over to him. A red haze filled her vision at the thought of everything he’d done, and she dug the heel of her half boot into the wrist of the hand holding the gun. As Samuel let out a howl, she wrenched the pistol from his hand. Then she backed up and aimed it at him, praying she could pull the trigger if she had to. Not that she was likely to hit anything if she did; she’d never shot a firearm in her life. But he was not escaping, drat it. Samuel stumbled to his feet, then blanched. “Jane!” “Yes, it’s Jane, you…you…vile…horrible…arse!” “Give me the gun, Jane,” he said hoarsely, fixing his gaze on it. “You don’t want to be playing with that.” With her blood beating a fearful tattoo through her veins, she steadied the pistol in the general direction of his heart. Though she could think of better places to shoot him, frankly. “I’m not playing. And you’re not going anywhere.” Samuel lunged at her, and the pistol went off. Which was odd, because she couldn’t remember pulling the trigger. But she must have, because smoke came out of the end of the pistol and he cried out and dropped to the ground at her feet, grabbing his thigh. As Samuel rolled there, clutching at his leg and howling, Victor skidded to a halt beside him. “Good shot, Jane!” The grin he flashed her reminded her instantly of Max. “I saw you hit him with the carriage door, too. Excellent work. We’ll have to make you an honorary Duke’s Man.” “Over my dead body,” Dom growled as he ran up beside her.

I have no musical talent. My clarinet sounded like an apoplectic yak. For the brief days I blew the trumpet, a hostile-sounding pig snorted along in jerky fits and starts with the rest of the irritated band. I never knew when a sound was actually going to come out of the horn and it always startled me when it did. My violin unleashed a trio of enraged, tone-deaf banshees, and I couldn’t blow the flute well enough to make any more sound than with my lower lip on a soda bottle. Something about the pucker eluded me. The drums turned my arms into a pretzel-prison from which there was no escape. I would have given the tambourine a try—I really think I might have excelled at the hip-bump—but sadly the instrument wasn’t offered at my school. I think that’s why I love my iPod so much. I have music in my soul and can’t get it out.

Some gender dysphoric children just want to escape or hide from their tormentors and the world in general. They spend every free moment at home with the door locked or at the library with their head buried in a book. The latter may result in very good grades, for scholastic endeavors are the one area in which they feel they can excel.

Pursuing the goal, the leader never looks back or calculates escape strategies if plans turn sour. Nor does a true leader cast blame for failure on subordinates.

He skimmed his knuckles over her jaw before roaming lower to the satiny column of her neck, then back up again. "Surely you could stay for dinner? You said yourself your aunt is away. I can't believe you would prefer eating alone." Her frown increased. "No, but-" "Then stay. My cook sets an excellent table. Delicious fare designed to tempt any palate. Tell me your favorites and I'll send word to her to make them especially for you." Sliding his arm around her back, he bent and pressed his mouth to the base of her throat. "Do you like roast beef?" "Ahh, I..." "Too heavy, you're right," he stated, dropping kisses against her skin in a leisurely pattern. "What about venison? Unless you are worried it might be gamey. Hmm, I agree." Her eyelids fluttered, one hand coming up to catch in the fabric of his coat. Working his way up, he paused and breathed a gentle gust of warm, brandy-scented air into her ear. She shuddered, a tiny moan escaping her lips. "Partridge, perhaps? In a sweet vermouth with plump raisins and orange peel. How does that sound?" "Delightful." He smiled, wondering if she was referring to the food or his kisses. He definitely hoped the latter. "Or I know," he whispered, brushing his mouth ever so lightly against hers. "Lobster and oysters. Light and delicate, with a taste as fresh as the sea. Shall we try that? I could feed them to you bite by delectable bite.

When a cold front moves through the area, it pulls air pollution, dust, and haze with it, often providing excellent viewing conditions with very stable air. Periods immediately after a heavy rain are often best of all; the rain does a wonderful job of clearing dust from the air, which improves atmospheric transparency, stabilizes the air, and reduces the effects of light pollution. (It doesn’t matter how much light escapes into the air if there’s nothing for it to reflect from.)

Henry Ford once said, referring to his Model-T, the bestselling car of all time,fn7 “The customer can have any color he wants, so long as it’s black.” He understood something that businesspeople seem to have forgotten: Serving the customer (“customer service”) is not becoming a personal concierge and catering to their every whim and want. Customer service is providing an excellent product at an acceptable price and solving legitimate problems (lost packages, replacements, refunds, etc.) in the fastest manner possible. That’s it.

Chapter 2: The Blinders of the Senses: Awakening from the Sensory Dream Close your eyes and imagine standing in a garden. The air is fragrant with the scent of flowers, and the sun's warmth kisses your skin. You hear the rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds, and the distant hum of life. This sensory symphony envelops you, defining your experience of the world around you. But what if I told you that this symphony is both a blessing and a limitation? Welcome to the chapter where we pull back the curtain on the senses—the windows through which we perceive reality. These senses are our gateways to the world, allowing us to touch, taste, hear, see, and smell. They are our connection to the external, the bridge that links us to the physical universe. However, in their splendor lies a trap—a trap that keeps us tethered to the surface of existence. Picture this: you're in a theater, engrossed in a captivating movie. The screen and the story before you are so compelling that you forget you're sitting in a theater, watching a mere projection. In the same way, our senses project a vivid reality that captivates us, making us forget that they're just a means of perception, not the ultimate truth. Our senses act as both guides and misguides. They offer us a glimpse into the world, but they also distort reality. They're like a paintbrush in the hands of an artist, creating a beautiful but partial picture. We become so focused on this picture that we overlook the canvas on which it's painted—the canvas of consciousness. Consider the blind spots in your eyes. These are spots where you literally cannot see, yet your brain fills in the gaps seamlessly, creating a complete image. Similarly, our senses have "blind spots" when it comes to the inner world of thoughts, emotions, and consciousness. They excel at perceiving the external, but they struggle to illuminate the internal. Herein lies the paradox: while our senses are our windows to the world, they can also be our blinders, keeping us from seeing the whole picture. Just as a map provides information about the terrain but not the essence of a place, our senses provide data about the world but not the essence of our being. So, how do we escape this sensory dream and peer beyond the blinders? The answer lies in a shift of focus. We must turn our attention inwards, away from the dazzling spectacle of the external world. It's here, in the quietude of introspection, that we can begin to untangle the threads of our consciousness from the threads of sensation. In the coming pages, we'll delve into the paradox of perception and introspection. We'll journey through the ways our senses illuminate the external and yet leave us in the dark about the internal. And most importantly, we'll explore the profound power of looking beyond the surface, awakening to a reality that transcends the sensory landscape. So, get ready to peel back the layers of perception, to unveil the subtle dance between our senses and our consciousness. As we journey through this chapter, remember: just as a photograph captures a moment in time, our senses capture a moment in reality. But to grasp the essence of existence, we must go beyond the snapshot and embrace the living, breathing symphony of

This might have escaped your attention, but I happen to excel at keeping secrets! I have a mouth like a steel trap." Max snorted. "Isn't the expression 'a mind like a steel trap?" "My mind is more like a roller coaster inside a labyrinth buried in an M. C. Escher painting that is riding on another roller coaster." Xander shrugged.

Being busy is an excellent escape from adversity, boredom, and nonsense.

The philosopher of the future, as distinct from the classical philosopher, will be concerned with the holy. His philosophizing will be intrinsically religious. This does not mean that he believes in a God, the Biblical God. He is an atheist, but an atheist who is waiting for a god who has not yet shown himself. He has broken with the Biblical faith also and especially because the Biblical God as the creator of the world is outside the world: compared with the Biblical God as the highest good, the world is necessarily less than perfect. In other words, the Biblical faith necessarily leads, according to Nietzsche, to otherworldliness and asceticism. The condition of the highest human excellence is that man remains or becomes loyal to the earth; that there is nothing outside the world which could be of any concern to us—be it God or ideas or atoms of which we could be certain by knowledge or by faith. Every concern for such a ground of the world as is outside the world, i.e., of the world in which man lives, alienates man from this world. Such concern is rooted in the desire to escape from the terrifying and perplexing character of reality, to cut reality down to what man can bear. It is rooted in a desire for comfort.

​“I am certain Elizabeth does not mean to escape you, Mr. Darcy,” said Mrs. Bennet. ​“Certainly not!” chimed in Mr. Bennet. “After all, I have heard something of excellent libraries at Mr. Darcy’s homes, and I shall not rest until I see them!

BARTON CENTRE, 912, 9th Floor, Mahatma Gandhi Rd, Bengaluru, Karnataka - 560 001 Phone Number +91 8884400919 Leave on a remarkable excursion with the Bali Tour Package From Bangalore presented by SurfNXT. This thrilling bundle is customized to furnish explorers from Bangalore with an extraordinary and enhancing experience in the outlandish heaven of Bali. From exciting water sports undertakings to social investigations and quiet ocean side excursions, this visit bundle guarantees an ideal mix of unwinding and energy. Go along with us as we dig into the subtleties of this selective Bali visit bundle and find the miracles that look for you in this tropical heaven. 1. Prologue to Bali Visit Bundle from Bangalore Outline of SurfNXT Bali Visit Bundle Is it true or not that you are longing for sandy sea shores, turquoise waters, and exciting undertakings? Look no farther than the Bali Tour Package From Bangalore presented by SurfNXT! Set out on an excursion to the staggering island of Bali, known for its energetic culture, lavish scenes, and energizing exercises. With SurfNXT, prepare for an extraordinary encounter loaded up with surf, sun, and unwinding. 2. Features of the SurfNXT Visit Bundle Surfing and Water Sports Journeys The SurfNXT Visit Bundle is loaded with invigorating features that will fulfill your hunger for experience. From riding examples on Bali's popular waves to exciting water sports journeys like swimming and jumping, there's something for everybody to appreciate. Investigate Bali's completely clear waters, ride the waves, and make extraordinary recollections with SurfNXT. 3. Agenda Subtleties and Exercises Included Day to day Timetable of Exercises Prepare for an activity loaded agenda with SurfNXT's Bali Visit Bundle. Every day is loaded up with various exercises to keep you engaged and submerged in Bali's excellence. Whether you're investigating old sanctuaries, loosening up on perfect sea shores, or enjoying flavorful nearby cooking, there will never be a dull second. With SurfNXT, consistently carries new undertakings and encounters to value. 4. Convenience Choices and Considerations Sorts of Facilities Accessible SurfNXT offers a scope of convenience choices to suit each voyager's inclinations and financial plan. Whether you lean toward a lavish ocean front estate, a comfortable shop inn, or a beguiling guesthouse settled in the core of Bali, SurfNXT takes care of you. Appreciate agreeable stays, current conveniences, and warm neighborliness during your Bali escape. With SurfNXT, have confidence that your convenience will be an ideal supplement to your Bali adventure.**5. Travel Tips and Fundamental Information** **Pressing Rundown and Recommendations:** Okay, we should discuss what to pack for your Bali caper! Sunscreen? Check. Bathing suit? Twofold check. Mosquito repellent? Fundamental. Bali is known for its heat and humidity, so pack light, breathable garments, and remember your flip lemon. You'll likewise need to bring a reusable water contain to remain hydrated as you splash the sun. Goodness, and throw in a movement connector for your gadgets since we wouldn't maintain that you should pass up those Insta-commendable snaps! **6. Booking Cycle and Pricing** **The most effective method to Book the Visit Package:** Prepared to book your Bali Tour Package From Bangalore ? It's basically as simple as tasting a pina colada near the ocean! Just visit the Surfnxt site, select the Bali visit bundle that suits your energy, and follow the simple booking process. Make a point to twofold really look at the valuing and any considerations to keep away from any shocks. Whenever you've affirmed your booking, all that is left is counting during the time until you're tasting coconuts under the Balinese sun. **7. Client Audits and Testimonials**

The Importance of Books in Our Lives Books have always been an integral part of human civilization, shaping societies, preserving knowledge, and fostering personal growth. From ancient manuscripts to modern digital eBooks, they provide a gateway to learning, imagination, and personal development. Books serve as a bridge to the past, allowing readers to explore the thoughts, ideas, and cultures of previous generations. They also encourage critical thinking by offering multiple perspectives on topics ranging from philosophy and science to art and fiction. One of the greatest values of books lies in their ability to educate. Whether it's academic textbooks, biographies, or self-help guides, books impart knowledge that helps individuals excel in personal and professional spheres. Students, for example, rely heavily on textbooks to prepare for exams, while professionals may turn to industry-specific literature to stay updated with new trends and technologies. Beyond formal education, reading fosters self-improvement by exposing individuals to new ideas, challenges, and perspectives that expand their thinking and worldview. Books also serve as an escape from reality, providing readers with an opportunity to dive into new worlds and experience life from different perspectives. Fictional genres, such as fantasy, mystery, and romance, offer entertainment while simultaneously inspiring empathy and creativity. A reader can embark on an adventure through the pages of a novel or experience a new culture through travel literature. In this sense, books become companions that help readers unwind, dream, and explore the unknown, even from the comfort of their homes. In addition to their educational and recreational benefits, books play a critical role in personal development. Self-help books guide readers through personal challenges by offering advice on mental health, relationships, or financial management. Biographies of influential personalities inspire readers to overcome obstacles and achieve success. Books also promote empathy by helping readers understand emotions and experiences different from their own. When individuals read about the struggles, triumphs, and perspectives of others, they become more compassionate and socially aware. Furthermore, books foster a lifelong habit of learning and personal reflection. They help develop concentration and focus, as reading requires sustained attention. This is particularly important in the digital age, where people are often distracted by social media and short-form content. Regular reading improves vocabulary, communication skills, and analytical thinking, all of which contribute to personal and professional growth. Additionally, books promote mental well-being, offering a sense of comfort and relaxation to readers. Many people find solace in reading, especially during challenging times, as books can provide both emotional support and practical solutions. Even in a world dominated by technology, the relevance of books remains undiminished. While the formats may change—moving from physical books to audiobooks and eBooks—their essence and purpose remain

BARTON CENTRE, 912, 9th Floor, Mahatma Gandhi Rd, Bengaluru, Karnataka - 560 001 Phone Number +91 8884400919 Searching for an ideal escape Dubai Tour Package From Bangalore? SurfNxt presents a selective Dubai Visit Bundle from Bangalore that guarantees a remarkable mix of current wonders, rich culture, and top notch extravagance. Whether you're an experience searcher, shopaholic, or somebody who loves to investigate engineering ponders, this bundle takes special care of a wide range of explorers. Here is a nitty gritty outline of what you can anticipate from the SurfNxt Dubai Visit Bundle. Why Pick Dubai? Dubai is a city that never disappoints. Well known for its dazzling high rises, similar to the famous Burj Khalifa, perfect sea shores, extravagance shopping centers, and social legacy, Dubai offers something for each explorer. From energizing desert safaris to dynamic souks, the city is a mother lode of encounters. For those going from Bangalore, the charm of Dubai's extravagance, matched with the comfort of very much arranged travel, makes it a famous objective for a speedy global occasion. Features of the SurfNxt Dubai Visit Bundle Dubai Tour Package From Bangalore Partake in a consistent involvement in non-stop departures from Kempegowda Global Air terminal, Bangalore to Dubai Worldwide Air terminal. Contingent upon your inclinations, SurfNxt offers both spending plan and premium aircraft choices. Bother free air terminal exchanges to and from your lodging in Dubai are incorporated. Extravagant Convenience Remain in 4 or 5-star lodgings, situated in prime areas of Dubai, offering extravagance and solace. You can pick between facilities that give perspectives on the famous city horizon or the quiet Bedouin Bay. Day to day breakfast and choices for full-board feasts are accessible relying upon the bundle you pick. Directed City Visits Investigate the core of Dubai with a directed visit that incorporates visits to significant milestones like: Burj Khalifa: The tallest structure on the planet offers amazing perspectives from its perception deck. Palm Jumeirah: A man-made wonder, known for its extravagant lodgings and resorts, including the popular Atlantis. Dubai Marina: Experience the waterfront and partake in a yacht journey or a stroll along the marina promenade. Dubai Shopping center: One of the world's biggest shopping centers, home to incalculable brands, an ice skating arena, an aquarium, and that's just the beginning. Desert Safari Experience The Dubai Desert Safari is a must-do! Experience an elating 4x4 rise slamming ride, camel riding, sandboarding, and witness an entrancing desert dusk. The night closes with a conventional bar-b-que supper, alongside live hip twirl and Tanoura shows at a Bedouin-style camp. Dhow Voyage on Dubai Rivulet or Marina Partake in a serene night on a customary Dhow voyage while coasting through the quiet waters of Dubai River or the cutting edge Dubai Marina. Appreciate installed diversion, a rich supper, and shocking perspectives on the enlightened city horizon. Shopping Party Dubai is a customer's heaven! The bundle incorporates visits to the most famous shopping objections: Gold Souk: A conventional market known for its choice gold and gems assortments. The Dubai Shopping center: Shop from top extravagance brands, enjoy top notch food, and appreciate diversion choices. Shopping center of the Emirates: Well known for Ski Dubai, it offers extravagance retail encounters and that's just the beginning. Discretionary Exercises SurfNxt offers discretionary visits and exercises for voyagers searching for additional remarkable encounters, for example, A roadtrip to Abu Dhabi: Investigate the Sheik Zayed Excellent Mosque, Ferrari World, and Louver Abu Dhabi. Aquaventure Waterpark at Atlantis the Palm. Helicopter Visit: Get an airborne perspective on Dubai's horizon. Visa and Protec

Don’t laugh though.” “What do you mean?” said Emma. Biff didn’t say anything. He reached into his inventory and pulled out his bed and tossed it on the floor. I’m sorry, but I had to laugh. Emma laughed too. The bed had a blanket with a chicken face on it. His pillow case had the picture of a bunny rabbit on it. “Stop laughing! My mom got me the blanket and the pillowcase when I was little. Hurrr, I just never got around to replacing them.” I was still laughing and said, “No worries, Bro. Looks comfortable.” Emma, who had stopped laughing, yawned. It was contagious. Biff and I both yawned. “Okay, guys, I’m going to sleep. Good night,” said Emma. Biff and I both wished her good night and we each got into our beds and went to sleep. * * * I suppose it will come as no surprise to you that I was visited in my dreams that evening. One of the visitors I had almost expected. But the other…. The visitor I was more or less expecting to show up was, of course, the Rainbow Creeper. It appeared without any attempt to conceal itself in a mysterious form or behind a cloud of dream smoke. You know, the typical weird dream-type stuff. It spoke with the strange lilting voice that had been created when Claire had been joined to it. “Jimmy. I understand that you have rescued Emma from the witch.” “Yes, RC, I did. If Claire still has any independent memory, I hope she’s relieved.” There was a pause for a moment and then the Creeper said, “Yes, she is.” There was another brief pause and then the Rainbow Creeper changed the subject. “Have you had any luck locating Entity 303’s piece in Baby Zeke’s dimension?” I shook my head. “No, but this dimension’s Ender King, Herobrine, and Notch are working on ways to find it. We are going to establish a search party tomorrow using volunteers. It may take a while, but we will leave no stone unturned.” “Excellent,” said the Rainbow Creeper. “I’m sure Entity 303 will not be able to escape your reconnaissance.” “How are things going in my native dimension?” “They are still searching as well. No news.” The Rainbow Creeper was beginning to fade from my dream when I remembered. “Creeper? Wait a minute. Something else happened.” The Creeper’s form solidified again and it looked at me, its expressionless

Relaxing is about taking a few minutes out of your day to wind down and take a breather. Resting is about stopping for a significant period of time during the day, typically the evening to escape work and stress, and to completely unwind. Sleep speaks for itself.

Four pounds of fish are enough to make a chowder for four or five people; half a dozen slices of salt pork in the bottom of the pot; hang it high, so that the pork may not burn; take it out when done very high brown; put in a layer of fish, cut in lengthwise slices, then a layer formed of crackers, small or sliced onions, and potatoes sliced as thin as a four pence, mixed with pieces of pork you have fried; then a layer of fish again, and so on. Six crackers are enough. Strew a little salt and pepper over each layer; over the whole pour a bowl-full of flour and water, enough to come up even with the surface of what you have in the pot. A sliced lemon adds to the flavor. A cup of tomato catsup is very excellent. Some people put in beer. A few clams are a pleasant addition. It should be covered so as not to let a particle of steam escape, if possible. Do not open it, except when nearly done, to taste if it be well seasoned. —Lydia Maria Child, The American Frugal Housewife, Boston, 1829

Negative trade-offs are not only a marker of excellence, they are a marker of differentiation. This is as true for products and brands as it is for brain surgeons.

Maybe Sparrow can't walk as far as Chicken, but he can walk well enough to fill his belly. And maybe he can't fly as quickly as Swift, but he can fly fast enough to escape the fox and keep from being enslaved by man. Remember Sparrow. He's not excellent at anything, but just good enough at everything.

HOLMES, ON SPIRITUALISM A sitting room is not the proper setting for a spiritual awakening. As a horse forgets his shoes (he is not, after all, the one to nail them to his feet), so can a man forget his deceased wife despite previous adoration. Adoration: the sudden attention to such details (unbrushed coat, needlemark in the crook of an arm) in a lady’s appearance when these have not been marked before in one’s closest companion. When you assumed my death, you quit me after a quarter hour. I have trained you well in observation and distance. There are certain well-carved tables, excellent china, there are vessels for the quiet governesses of tragic good breeding who are pleased to rise from the dead and come back to their husbands for a justifiable fee. Come back. See, I am fond of charlatans. There is a certain amount of pleasure in disguise and the caught-breath escape from water and chains. The drowning or how it is imagined. If you had been watching closely? Then I could have returned sooner. Here I will differentiate between legerdemain and what meager love I have witnessed. What desire, to call back the dead to watch you take your tea.

Sometimes, years later, while going about your ordinary business, thinking you’re okay and that you’ve left it all behind, a random scent, a snatch of music, a certain color, will slash a broken shard of memory through your brain. You’ll stop dead in your tracks, feel confused as all your neural circuits waken fight-or-flight hormones into your body—the same neurochemicals that were associated with that night, because as neuroscience will tell you, what fires together, wires together. So while your mind won’t hold the whole picture, you realize your body does. Your body knows. But your body is not communicating properly with your brain in a way that will give you a narrative around that trauma, something you can understand. And you need that narrative in order to become whole again. In desperation you reach for a bottle of wine, or pills, or you doggedly escape into some other addictive behavior, whether it’s long-distance running, or kickboxing, or dieting, or excelling at work, or dangerous snooping, or hiding behind masks and makeup and theatrical roles, becoming an Anonymous Girl.

Kevin Dowd, a distinguished Sales Consultant hailing from Rochester, NY, started his journey in Utica. An accomplished SUNY College at Oswego alumnus, Kevin excels in sales, earning the President's Club distinction. His passions encompass animal care, golf, basketball, and globetrotting. Kevin finds solace in dog walks, cheers for Syracuse Orange, and dreams of escaping to ocean city MD. With 25 years in sales, he's a beacon of success.

The concepts of repression and the unconscious are closely bound together. They were first put on a sound, scientific basis by Freud. There is a wonderful metaphor of the unconscious in Peter Gay’s excellent biography of Freud, Freud: A Life for Our Time (New York: Norton, 1988), p. 128: “Rather, the unconscious proper resembles a maximum-security prison holding anti-social inmates languishing for years or recently arrived, inmates harshly treated and heavily guarded, but barely kept under control and forever attempting to escape” (italics added).

all the troubles and dangers which attend the performance of all holy duties and heavenly services are but temporal and momentary—but the neglect of them may lay you open to all temporal, spiritual, and eternal dangers. 'How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation?' (Heb. 2:3). He says not, if we reject or renounce so great salvation. No! but if we neglect, or shift off so great salvation, how shall we escape? That is, we cannot by any way, or means, or device in the world, escape. Divine justice will be above us, in spite of our very souls. The doing of such and such heavenly services may lay you open to the frowns of men—but the neglect of them will lay you open to the frowns of God; the doing of them may render you contemptible in the eyes of men—but the neglect of them may render you contemptible in the eyes of God; the doing of them may be the loss of your estate—but the neglect of them may be the loss of God, Christ, heaven, and your soul forever; the doing of them may shut you out from some outward temporal contents, the neglect of them may shut you out from that excellent matchless glory 'which eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither has it entered into the heart of men' (Is. 64:4). Remember this, there is no man who breathes, but shall suffer more by neglecting those holy and heavenly services that God commands, commends, and rewards, than he can possibly suffer by doing of them.

Tattooers could decide to mix their own ink. However, I believe choosing tattoo ink from well-established companies who supply ink to the public, use safe handling practices, and regularly test their ink, is an excellent choice.

The elites schooled their scions in private academies; everyone else taught their children whatever they could when they weren’t putting them to work or, worse, auctioning them off into indentured servitude or sentient trafficking. All in the name of freedom, of course. To the Orions, this was personal liberty. It all sounded like a sick joke to Graniv. How could someone be free when the society in which they lived had been rigged against them decades before they were even born? Who could ever hope to excel to a degree that would let them escape such institutionalized squalor? When she looked at Orion society as an outsider, all she saw was greed masquerading as virtue, selfishness venerated as courage.

What is the Ultimate Goal of Life? If we look around, different people have different goals. Some people just want to be rich, others crave for power, and still others seek contentment and fulfillment. If we look deeper, people pursue different things to ultimately get to Destination Happiness. 80% of the world is trying to climb the first peak of Achievement, while the rest are trying to go further towards the second peak of Fulfillment. The achiever may want to excel in sports, politics or business, amongst the various other fields that are mushrooming in the world today. The ones who are content and fulfilled are trying to escape the rat race. For them, happiness doesn’t come from achieving more, but rather from desiring less. The former, who climb the first peak of happiness, depend on pleasure to achieve happiness, while the latter believe that peace is the foundation of happiness. 99% of humanity falls under these two categories. Does it mean that the remaining 1% doesn’t seek happiness? Of course not! Everybody alive on earth seeks happiness. The 1% whose happiness doesn’t depend on pleasure from achievement or peace from fulfillment seek happiness that comes from finding the true purpose of life. This tiny minority goes on a Quest, on a Search, but ultimately, even they want happiness. Everyone seeks Happiness! Therefore, what is wrong in saying that the goal of humanity is happiness? There is nothing wrong, except that ultimate happiness is neither on the first peak of Achievement, nor on the second peak of Fulfillment. We are, unfortunately, looking for it in the wrong place. We are like the musk deer that searches for the musk everywhere, not realizing that the musk it is looking for is inside its own navel. We also do not realize that happiness is within us. We are the very happiness that we are seeking! While 1% of humanity goes on a Quest, a Search within, trying to find a purpose, and realize the truth, all are not fortunate enough to find this purpose and meaning. A very small fraction of the seekers attain self-realization. They realize that they are neither the body that will die, nor the mind that doesn’t exist. They ultimately realize that they are the Divine Energy or Consciousness that gives them life. The Ultimate Happiness! While this realization leads to liberation, it inadvertently gives ultimate joy, peace and bliss. It frees the realized ones from the prisons of misery and sorrow as they escape from the darkness of the ignorance they live in. Probably, less than 0.00001% of humanity attains self-realization and ultimate, eternal, everlasting joy, bliss, peace and happiness with it. These fortunate souls escape from the cycle of death and rebirth. They are liberated from the body and the myth that they are the mind that is reborn based on their past actions. This realization is the ultimate goal of life which is also called Moksha, Nirvana, Enlightenment or Salvation. Whatever you may call it, the goal of life is liberation from misery and suffering. And this is possible only if we realize the truth. We should realize we are not the body that suffers and dies. We should realize that we are not the mind that has to be reborn again and again. We are energy – the energy that gives Consciousness to the body and mind while it experiences life on earth. This is self-realization. The ultimate goal is self-realization because realization of the truth liberates us from the prisons of misery and sorrow that are experienced being the ego, mind and body, which we are not.

2 Peter 1:3-4 His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire.

Academic achievements had nothing to do with it, no matter how excellent they were. Your whole life was determined by which caste you’d been consigned to. If you were deemed “core,” a rosy future awaited you. But if you were deemed “hostile,” you were the lowest of the low and would remain so for life. No career path. No chance of bettering yourself. No way out.

When I arrived at IBM, new mainframes were announced every four to five years. Today they are launched, on average, every eighteen months (with excellent quality, I might add). I can understand the joke that was going around IBM in the early 1990s: “Products aren’t launched at IBM. They escape.

Depending on the form it takes, perfectionism is not necessarily a block to creativity... Characteristics of what psychologists view as healthy perfectionism include striving for excellence and holding others to similar standards, planning ahead, and strong organizational skills. Healthy perfectionism is internally driven in the sense that it’s motivated by strong personal values for things like quality and excellence. Conversely, unhealthy perfectionism is externally driven. External concerns show up over perceived parental pressures, needing approval, a tendency to ruminate over past performances, or an intense worry about making mistakes... everyone has some combination of both forms of perfectionism, so escaping from the grip of unhealthy perfectionism, while allowing healthy perfectionist impulses to drive us is a delicate balance.

How is it different and why should I buy it? ONE sentence or phrase, folks. Apple did an excellent job of this with the iPod. Instead of using the usual industry jargon with GB, bandwidth, and so forth, they simply said, “1,000 songs in your pocket.

Raccoons have a track record of solving problems and adapting to new environments. In studies carried out in the early 1900s, raccoons proved to be talented escape artists with an excellent memory. In these experiments, raccoons were confined in a box with a combination of different latches and buttons that needed to be pressed to be unlocked. The animals solved most of these puzzle boxes in fewer than ten tries and, after a whole year, still remembered their solutions.

The house was quiet and the room was dark. It had to be closing in on four in the morning, but Cedric couldn’t sleep. Not only was he wired from the confrontation with the intruder, but his mind raced with what had happened afterward. The image of Gabriel, furious and panting as he stood over his abuser and took control of the situation, was etched into his mind. Cedric didn’t think he’d ever forget it. And now, that same young man was curled beside him beneath the blankets they shared, looking at him through the dark. “Sir?” Gabriel asked. “Yes, Gabriel?” “You’re not angry about what I did, are you? Or the things I said? I’m sorry that I spoke like that. It’s—” “No.” Cedric shifted closer. The sleeper sofa they shared was small enough that it didn’t take much until they were chest to chest. Gabriel adjusted his position so their bodies were flush. “Don’t be sorry about anything. I should be upset that you put yourself in danger like you did, but the truth is, without you, both of us would have been in even more danger. If you hadn’t stepped in, bad things would have happened.” “He would have taken us,” Gabriel murmured. His hand traced down Cedric’s side, and just like that, the air thickened with the chemistry they shared. It hit Cedric right away, filling his lungs and plunging to his groin. He might have wanted to go to sleep, but his cock had other ideas. “I heard him. I heard all the things he said to you. I was hiding in the kitchen while he spoke, waiting for a chance to creep closer without being heard so I could help you. I’m sorry I took so long.” “No. I told you, don’t be sorry about anything.” Cedric traced his fingers over Gabriel’s cheek, aching to kiss him. “What you did was perfect. I’m okay, and you’re okay, and he’s going to jail, and that’s all that matters.” “I should have told you about him.” Gabriel lowered his gaze. “From the very first day I came to your house, I picked up on his scent. You… you don’t forget something like that, after you spend so long living in a nightmare. I don’t think I’ll forget it for as long as I’m alive.” “I won’t forget it, either.” Cedric’s fingers traced down Gabriel’s neck, then under his jaw along his chin. Stubble pricked his skin. “I didn’t want to tell you about what happened to me because…” Gabriel hesitated, but his gaze flicked upward. His eyes were partially lidded, and his face relaxed. Physical contact had always been an excellent way to soothe him, and tonight it did the trick just fine. “Because everyone treats me like I’m broken, and I didn’t want to think it was true. I thought I was in love with Garrison, and that if I could trick you into thinking I was okay, that maybe you’d let your guard down and I could escape and find him. All I wanted to do was get back to him because I didn’t know how to be on my own. I still don’t, but the difference now is that I understand it.” All the times he’d run away, and all the times he’d clung to Cedric seeking comfort. Over the years, Garrison had turned Gabriel from an impressionable teen into a subservient young man who couldn’t function on his own. Subservient, not submissive. Cedric understood the difference better than ever now that he had confronted the truth.

ECAPE OF THE LOVELY LADY JULIA DE GONZAGA Stories that he heard on his progress of the lovely Julia Gonzaga, Duchess of Trajetto and Countess of Fondi, next tempted him to an exploit of a somewhat different character. The young widow was the most famous beauty in Italy; no fewer than two hundred and eight Italian poets had written verses in her honour and the device emblazoned on her shield was the Flower of Love. It occurred to the corsair that she would make an excellent token of his devotion to his new lord, Suleyman the Magnificent. The lady was at Fondi. Thither the pirate travelled, swiftly and by night. But the fame of his presence preceded him and the lady had just time to leap from her bed and gallop off on horseback dressed in the flimsiest of night garments and accompanied by one male attendant. She managed to escape, and afterwards condemned the attendant to death because, she alleged, he had been unduly familiar during that desperate nocturnal ride. Kheyr-ed-din, annoyed at the escape of his sultan’s fair prize, gave over the town of Fondi to a terrible four hours’ punishment at the hands of his men.

Kusunoki left both ingredients as is, wrapping the salmon in the bacon and delicately heating both to elegant perfection. Using the same concept behind the ramen staple seafood-pork broth, melding the umami of both fish and meat together created a powerfully savory flavor. The olive oil bath he used to prevent even a drop of the fish's juices from escaping was also an excellent touch. In the end, his dish was the picture of a salmon's savory deliciousness, perfectly recreated on the plate.

Are you seeing this? There are 24 different hours during which we can sleep, work, play, and recover; but the vast majority of companies and individuals adhere to the 9-to-5 workday, 11-to-6 sleep cycle, and 2-day weekends. How we fit in sufficient time for play and recovery is anyone’s guess. “The best way to keep a prisoner from escaping is to make sure he never knows he’s in prison.” —Fyodor Dostoevsky, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich

One way of escape is open: it is, to be attached to none of these things, and to get as far away as possible from the society of this emotional and sensual world; or rather, for a man to go outside the feelings which his own body gives rise to. Then, as he does not live for the flesh, he will not be subject to the troubles of the flesh. But this amounts to living for the spirit only, and imitating all we can the employment of the world of spirits. There they neither marry, nor are given in marriage. Their work and their excellence is to contemplate the Father of all purity, and to beautify the lines of their own character from the Source of all beauty, so far as imitation of It is possible.

Guys, I’m not in labor. I just moved too quickly, OK?’’ Aisling said. ‘‘Take your hands off her,’’ Drake said in a low voice that sounded very much like a growl. Jim sucked in its breath, sitting up to watch. ‘‘I’m not hurting her,’’ Gabriel answered, bending over her belly as he continued to gently prod her. ‘‘I’m simply trying to ascertain if she’s in labor or not. Aisling, is the pain sharp or dull?’’ The door opened, and Gabriel’s two bodyguards, Tipene and Maata, entered. Behind them came one of Drake’s men, a thick-necked, redheaded man named István. The latter picked up on Gabriel’s question. ‘‘Aisling is in pain? She is having the baby?’’ ‘‘I should examine you more fully,’’ Gabriel said, smiling at Aisling as he took her hand. ‘‘Do not worry, Aisling. I have delivered many dragons over the centuries. My mother is a very good midwifeand has taught me well.’’ Drake snatched up her other hand. ‘‘You will not examine my mate any further! We have an excellent green-dragon midwife who is attending her. Now, get away from her before I have you removed!’’ Aisling looked perfectly fine to me. She rolled her eyes, casting a pleading look skyward. I might not have experience in this area, but it was clear to me that she was not in labor. I shot a glare at Gabriel, grinding my teeth just a little at the stupidity of what was normally such a bright man, my fingers itching to pry his hand from Aisling’s. ‘‘I will tell you once more—remove your hands from her!’’ Drake’s voice got even more menacing. ‘‘Gabriel, I think she would know if she was in labor,’’ I said, nudging the dragon of mydreams a bit more forcefully. ‘‘A voice of reason at last,’’ Aisling said, giving me a smile. ‘‘Guys, I’m not—’’ István turned in the doorway and bellowed out of it. ‘‘Pál! Call the midwife! Aisling is in labor! I will call Nora and Rene. They wish to be here, yes? Should I boil water?’’ He evidently asked the last bit of Maata, who, as the female member of Gabriel’s attendants, was obviously expected to know the answer. Maata looked surprised. ‘‘Would it make you feel better to boil water?’’ she asked. István nodded his head vigorously. ‘‘It is done, is it not? The boiling of water? It is important. I saw it in a movie.’’ ‘‘Then, by all means, boil water,’’ she answered. István nodded again, announced to the room in general, ‘‘I boil water!’’ and rushed out to suit action to word. Pál, the second of Drake’s two redheaded bodyguards, slammed into István as he was leaving, scattering apologies as he dashed into the room, a cell phone in his hand. ‘‘The midwife’s phone is busy!’’ he said, offering the phone to Drake as proof. ‘‘Oh, man, if there’s going to be baby juice and blood and guck, I’m getting out of here,’’ Jim said, sidling around the clutch of people that surrounded Aisling. ‘‘I’m going to Amelie’s to be with Cecile. Someone tell me when it’s all over.’’ ‘‘Hello, can anyone hear me? I’m not in labor!’’ Aisling said. ‘‘What should I do?’’ Pál asked Drake, shaking the phone at him. ‘‘It is busy! Busy! How can it be busy?’’ A little wisp of smoke escaped Drake’s nose as he glared at the phone. ‘‘It should not be busy. Go fetch her. There is no business she can have as important as this.’’ Pál didn’t stop to answer; he just bolted from the room. ‘‘Oh, for the love of Pete! I’m not in pain! And unless dragons have some sort ofpainless labor, a notion your mother vehemently says is false, then I’m not having the baby,’’ Aisling said, but was drowned out by Maata asking if Gabriel needed help at the same time Tipene offered to take overmidwife phone duty.