Fire Starters Quotes

We burned with love for ourselves, all of us, starters of the fire we suffered- our love was the affliction for which only our love was the cure.

I understand her immediately. She is an instigator, a fire starter, an accelerant of a human being, throwing herself into the middle of a crowd and lighting it up. She is fucking lighter fluid.

In what way could keeping me in ignorance be construed as protection?’ I straighten a piece of wire to add to the fire-starter. ‘God spare me from such protection, especially when it involves safeguarding my poor feminine sensibilities from life-saving information.

I gave him my Order smile: sweet grin, hard eyes, reached over to my passenger seat, and pulled out my submachine gun. About twenty-seven inches long, the HK was my favorite toy for close-quarters combat. The rider’s eyes went wide. “This is an HK UMP submachine gun. Renowned for its stopping power and reliability. Cyclic rate of fire: eight hundred rounds per minute. That means I can empty this thirty-round clip into you in less than three seconds. At this range, I’ll cut you in half.” It wasn’t strictly true but it sounded good. “You see what it says on the barrel?” On the barrel, pretty white letters spelled out PARTY STARTER.

If your goals aren’t synced with the substance of your heart, then achieving them won’t matter much.

Self-doubt is so insidious that it not only renders us stuck in our lives, but it also actually weakens our ability to dream about what living unleashed would look like.

Passion is the spark for everything. By itself, passion is never enough. Just like talent is never enough. But it's your fire starter. Without passion, you won't do something 100 percent. That's the bottom line. And what's the point of doing something if you're not doing it 100 percent?

The next generation is like the last runner in a very long relay race. The race to end extreme poverty has been a marathon, with the starter gun fired in 1800. This next generation has the unique opportunity to complete the job: to pick up the baton, cross the line, and raise its hands in triumph. The project must be completed. And we should have a big party when we are done.

When you know someone’s dream you look at that person differently—with more tenderness, respect, familiarity, sympathy, and generosity than before. Look at everyone you meet this week and actively think to yourself, “I wonder what their dreams are?

When you hang with your tribe, you feel invigorated, recognized, and understood—you can’t underestimate the powerful effects of being fortified in that way. When you have your tribe on speed dial, you’ve got all the resources you need to fuel up, fly straight, and head back out to face the world at large.

The religion of the flag promptly replaced the cult of heaven, an old cloud which had already been deflated by the Reformation and reduced to a network of episcopal money boxes. In olden times the fanatical fashion was: 'Long live Jesus! Burn the heretics!' . . . But heretics, after all, were few and voluntary . . . Whereas today vast hordes of men are fired with aim and purpose by cries of ‘Hang the limp turnips! The juiceless lemons! The innocent readers! By the millions, eyes right!’ If anybody doesn’t want to fight or murder, grab ‘em, tear ‘em to pieces! Kill them in thirteen juicy ways. For a starter, to teach them how to live, rip their guts out of their bodies, their eyes out of their sockets, and the years out of their filthy slobbering lives!

I was a fire starter once. I could talk to anyone when I was drinking. I played therapist, devil’s advocate, clown.

So I admitted it: “I’m a humanitarian.” And then I put a fine point on it: “Who happens to be an entrepreneur.” And then I really declared it. “And I think I can protect myself without fucking anyone else over.

If you “follow your bliss…you will begin to meet people who are in the field of your bliss, and they open the doors to you,” said Joseph Campbell, explaining his theory of the “invisible hands” that help you through life.

The season turns. You will be free–from your recovery and from your task. I’ll be sent, no doubt, to undo the damage you’ve caused. And we’ll run again, the two of us, upthread and down, firefighter and fire starter, two predators only sated by each other’s words.

But what if we took it one step further and made an effort to actually transform our pain into something beautiful? What if we went full out and made an effort to transform other people’s pain into something beautiful?

The dream that we are our fathers. I walked to the Brod, 41 without knowing why, and looked into my reflection in the water. I couldn’t look away. What was the image that pulled me in after it? What was it that I loved? And then I recognized it. So simple. In the water I saw my father’s face, and that face saw the face of its father, and so on, and so on, reflecting backward to the beginning of time, to the face of God, in whose image we were created. We burned with love for ourselves, all of us, starters of the fire we suffered—our love was the affliction for which only our love was the cure . . .

Hey, dickhead!" one of the other drivers yelled. "Get off the road!" "This here is a Falcon Seven," the rider told him. "I can put a bolt through your windshield and pin you to your seat like a bug." A direct threat, huh? Okay. I pulled down my sunglasses a bit so the rider would see my eyes. "That's a nice crossbow." He glanced in my direction. He saw a friendly blond girl with a big smile and a light Texas accent and didn't get alarmed. "You've got what, a seventy-five-pound draw on it? Takes you about four seconds to reload?" "Three," he said. I gave him my Order smile: sweet grin, hard eyes, reached over to my passenger seat, and pulled out my submachine gun. About twenty-seven inches long, the HK was my favorite toy for close-quarters combat. The rider's eyes went wide. "This is an HK UMP submachine gun. Renowned for its stopping power and reliability. Cyclic rate of fire: eight hundred rounds per minute. That means I can empty this thirty-round clip into you in less than three seconds. At this range, I'll cut you in half." It wasn't strictly true but it sounded good. "You see what it says on the barrel?" On the barrel, pretty white letters spelled out PARTY STARTER. "You open your mouth again, and I'll get the party started." The rider clamped his jaws shut.

A master in the art of living draws no sharp distinction between his work and his play; his labor and his leisure; his mind and his body; his education and his recreation. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence through whatever he is doing, and leaves others to determine whether he is working or playing. To himself, he always appears to be doing both. —Lawrence Pearsall Jacks

The first conflict hack is simple: avoid the fire starters. For Curtis, this meant moving to a new apartment

Whispers with a tip-toe routine is not my best dance. A born fire starter- if you call me at all, call me a change of plans. -from the poem 'The Waiting Room

I have to bite my lip not to screen every foul name I know at the fire starter. What are they thinking? A fire lit just at nightfall would have been one thing. Those who battled at the Cornucopia, with their superior strength and surplus of supplies, they couldn't possibly have been near enough to spot the flames then. But now, when they've probably been combining the woods for hours looking for victims. You might as well be waving a flag and shouting, "Come and get me!" And here I am a stone's throw from the biggest idiot in the Games. Strapped in a tree.

Each of us is here for a brief sojourn; for what purpose he knows not, though he sometimes thinks he senses it. But without deeper reflection one knows from daily life that one exists for other people. —Albert Einstein

Line up some “multidimensional” support. When it’s nose-to-the-grindstone time, we tend to get the grindstone kind of people on board—suppliers, designers, editors, marketers, “work/task” people. But this is precisely the time when you need some spiritually informed intelligence to back you up: a naturopath, a trainer, green smoothies, a prayer group. All that woo-woo love and insight will go a long way in helping you navigate the heavy-duty logistics on a daily basis.

Why sociology?’ he said. He shouldn’t have opened the wine – it would only make Terry angrier. There was never anything to be gained from pettiness. ‘I wanted to understand why the world is so unfair.’ ‘Shouldn’t your God give you those answers?’ he said, surprised by the slight teasing of his own tone. ‘Our God did, in a roundabout way.’ ‘How’s that?’ he said. She was pretty when her face was at rest, wiped clean of the encroachment of anxiety. ‘For starters, He created Marx.

Always be a first-rate version of yourself, instead of a second-rate version of somebody else. —Judy Garland

Before we get arrested,” Jacob said, “I’m a little curious about what we’re breaking into here. Just as a conversation-starter with my boss when he fires me.

We get so many societal messages about what the Right Dream is that it gets hard to decipher what our own dream is.

Criticism is something we can avoid easily by saying nothing, doing nothing, and being nothing.          —Aristotle

True strength is not necessarily about skill or adeptness. It’s about vitality.

God, please let this not be our last dance...

I feel pretty sure I know why the dinosaurs went extinct. They were waiting for Sam to pick out a cell phone case.

The mere act of dreaming is a vitalizing, life-affirming endeavor. As it turns out, using your imagination is very, very good for your wellbeing. Einstein believed that imagination was even more important than knowledge itself.

What are you doing?" Alain asked. "Starting a fire, of course." Mari held up the thing in her hand. "It's a fire-starter. A really simple device. Haven't you ever seen one?" Alain shook his head. "Never. That thing seems very complicated. I do not understand how it can work." "How do you start fires?" That was a Guild secret. Or was it? The elders had told him that no Mechanic could understand how it worked. What would this Mechanic say if he told her? "I use my mind to channel power to create a place where it is hot, altering the nature of the illusion there," Alain explained, "and then use my mind to put that heat on what I want to burn." "Oh," Mechanic Mari said. "Is that actually how you visualize the process?" "That is how it is done," Alain said. "That's...interesting." She grinned. "So, instead of making fire by doing something complicated or hard to understand like striking a flint, you just alter the nature of reality. That is a lot simpler.

Perhaps nothing is more important to exploration and discovery than the art of asking good questions. Questions are fire-starters: they ignite people’s passions and energy; they create heat; and they illuminate things that were previously obscure.

This is how brainstorming goes with brightly faithful people: “Hmmm. Uh-huh. Nope. Nah. No. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Ooh. Ahh. Wait a second. Holy shit, yes, yes, yes, oh my God, we could…and then we could…and it would be so…and holy yes and…I’ll sell it all if I have to…and what am I going to wear when I accept the award?! Who will we invite to the wedding?! How big do you think we can build it? Excuse me while I make a phone call.” They go off. It’s illogical, grandiose, crazy, and most certainly romantic. It’s faith.

Talk show host Charlie Rose asked folk rocker Neil Young about following his own muse. “So if you get an idea at, say, a dinner party, if you hear a tune or a lyric, do you excuse yourself from the party?” Charlie inquired. “Of course. You never know when she’ll [the muse] come again. I’m responsible to her.” Sometimes, Neil would hide out in a bathroom to scratch out a song that was coming to him and return to his dinner guests after he felt he’d captured it. When you feel an idea comin’ on, excuse yourself. Pull over to the side of the road. Get lost in the creative flow. Be late. Barge in.

Conflict can explode when social pain becomes unbearable. When it becomes something worse than exclusion, when it becomes humiliation. Humiliation is “the nuclear bomb of the emotions,” the psychologist and physician Evelin Lindner wrote. That’s why it’s the third fire starter, following group identity and conflict entrepreneurs. Humiliation poses an existential threat that jeopardizes the deepest part of ourselves, our sense that we matter, that we are worth something. It is “the enforced lowering of a person or group,” Lindner writes, “a process of subjugation that damages or strips away their pride, honor and dignity.

We go in and sit on the sofa by the fire to dry out, and she plays her favourite records, lots of Rickie Lee Jones and Led Zeppelin and Donovan and Bob Dylan - even though she was sixteen in 1982, there's definitely something very 1971 about Alice. I watch as she jumps around the room to 'Crosstown Traffic' by Jimi Hendrix, then when she's out of breath and tired of changing records every three minutes she puts a crackly old Ella Fitzgerald LP on, and we lie on the sofa and read our books, and steal glances at each other every now and then, like that bit between Michael York and Liza Minnelli in Cabaret, and talk only when we feel like it.

In the water I saw my father’s face, and that face saw the face of its father, and so on, and so on, reflecting backward to the beginning of time, to the face of God, in whose image we were created. We burned with love for ourselves, all of us, starters of the fire we suffered—our love was the affliction for which only our love was the cure . . .

Mingle • Be the connector—introduce people to each other who may not otherwise connect. • Be a conversation fire starter; point out what people have in common as you are introducing them. • Seek out the folks who may appear to be shy, or awkward, or wallflowers. Find ways to build trust and comfort. Engage them with a kind word to pull them out of their shell. • Arrive early and stay late; connect with people before and after your event. • Stretch beyond your comfort zone to speak with, sit with, and start conversations with people whom you do not know. • Offer to refill someone’s drink or clear their plate. • Encourage introductions: “There is someone whom I would love for you to meet . . .

The tides wash up the Pearl of Great Price; I see it clearly. There it is: the secret so secret that even Indiana Jones has yet to discover it. But it’s mine. It’s a style pointer, a favorite agent, a best avenue for publication. It’s a sure-fire fire-starter, a league of extraordinary information. Shall we gather at the river and share? No. I found it. It’s mine!

For a positively masculine Man there is no better opportunity to set yourself apart and start to plant the seeds of critical thought into AFCs than when you’re presented with these social situation. I think most men lack the balls to be a fire-starter at the risk of being perceived as some caveman, but it’s a good opportunity to truly set yourself apart from ‘other guys’ when you do.

That did it. Mackenzie was seething. Someone suggested that mercenaries be sent over to the Howard barn to forcibly haul Smith into the office. Setting that popular idea aside, the stewards fired the leg-weary Greenberg back to the barn again, bearing yet another message. “Seabiscuit will either be a positive starter tomorrow, or we will refuse his entry entirely.” A few minutes later, Greenberg dragged himself back to the offices with Smith’s counterdemand: No one was to show up at his barn asking to examine the horse. The stewards complied, and Greenberg stumbled back to the Howard barn. In late morning, the administrative office door swung open. The officials looked up, expecting to see Greenberg. It was Smith. The stewards sat blinking at him. “All right,” Smith said. “Take the ‘doubtful starter’ off the blank. Seabiscuit will run all right.” Back at the barn, resting his sore legs, Greenberg saw Smith laughing. “The madder they got, the better he liked it,” Greenberg remembered. “He just done that for bein’ onery.” On July 16 a record sixty thousand people pressed into Hollywood Park to see Seabiscuit try for the Gold Cup, while millions more crowded around radio sets to hear NBC’s national

The religion of the flag promptly replaced the cult of heaven, an old cloud which had already been deflated by the Reformation and reduced to a network of episcopal money boxes. In olden times the fanatical fashion was: ‘Long live Jesus! Burn the heretics!’ … But heretics, after all, were few and voluntary … Whereas today vast hordes of men are fired with aim and purpose by cries of: ‘Hang the limp turnips! The juiceless lemons! The innocent readers! By the millions, eyes right!’ If anybody doesn’t want to fight or murder, grab ’em, tear ’em to pieces! Kill them in thirteen juicy ways. For a starter, to teach them how to live, rip their guts out of their bodies, their eyes out of their sockets, and the years out of their filthy slobbering lives! Let whole legions of them perish, turn into smidgens, bleed, smolder in acid—and all that to make the Patrie more beloved, more fair, and more joyful!

I dream of Morocco and Paris, and a koi pond in the backyard. Making art, supporting art, learning art. Late-night talks with soul sisters who make me feel crazy blessed and motivated. Stage presence. Books and more books. Film. Belly laughs. I dream about communion. My man. Our son. Always. I dream of sitting around a fire with leaders and lovers of progress. Being able to give yeses that open doors and new dimensions for people. I dream of tenderness and innovation. I dream of invitations that humble me, and magical connections with people I recognize on a cellular level. I dream that we band together to leverage change. I dream of feeling more electric and sweet every single day. Mostly, I dream of being amazed. How ’bout you?

PASSION PLAY WORKSHEET Your true strengths are living right here. What are you intensely interested in? While you’re at it, include your moderate curiosities. You go to the best cocktail party ever. It’s a life-changing event because you meet the most with-it, interesting, empowered people, and each of them can contribute to your career and interests in some way.… Who was there? What kind of information did they share with you? What did they ask you? How did they offer to help you? If you could go to five conferences or events this year, which ones would you go to, or what would they be about? What could you talk about late into the night with like-minded people without running out of things to say? What activities make you feel really useful, alive, and strong? When do you feel like a rock star, a gifted contributor, a very cool and purposeful human being? In terms of things that you do, when do you feel most like yourself? What do you want to be known for?

In the white bowl, the paper caught fire, burning like a desperate flower, blooming and dying at the same time. Its scents came on tendrils of smoke, wrapping themselves around me. We missed you. I inhaled, and Victoria's kitchen disappeared around me. It was early morning in the cabin, winter; I could smell the woodstove working to keep the frost at bay. My father had fed the sourdough starter, and the tang of it played off the warm scent of coffee grounds. I could smell my own warmth in the air, rising from the blankets I'd tossed aside. I remembered that morning. It was the first time I ever saw the machine. I must have been three, maybe four years old. I'd woken up and seen my father, standing in the middle of the room, a box in his hands, bright and shiny and magical. I remembered racing across the floor, my bare feet tingling from the chill. What is it, Papa? It's wonderful. I want to know. And he'd put the shiny box aside and lifted me up high and said, You are the most wonderful thing in the world, little lark. The last of the paper crumbled to ash. I stood there, trying to remember what had happened next- but I couldn't. Did my father show me the machine, or did we go outside and chop wood? You'd think I'd remember, but I didn't. What I remembered was how it felt to be held in his arms. To be loved that way, before everything else happened. And in that moment, I felt whole. "Oh," I heard Victoria say, and when I turned to her, her eyes were filled with tears.

I’m a fire-starter and troublemaker who started out as an obscure British tech blogger and rose to infamy as one of America’s most in demand speakers on college campuses. The appearance of my expensive shoes and frosted tips and the sound of my laughter ringing across university quads has forced professors, journalists, directors, activists and musicians to realize something no liberal in America has understood for a long time: emotions do not trump facts.

Yes, anxiety is an evolutionary add-on. When fear-based learning is paired with uncertainty, your well-intentioned PFC doesn’t wait for the rest of the ingredients (e.g., more information). Instead, it takes whatever it’s got in the moment, uses worry to whip it together, fires up the adrenaline oven, and bakes you a loaf of bread you didn’t ask for: a big hot loaf of anxiety. And in the process of making the loaf, your brain stores a bit of the dough—like sourdough starter—away for later. The next time you plan for something, your brain pulls that anxiety starter out of your mental pantry and adds it as an “essential ingredient” to the mix, to the point where that sour taste overpowers reason, patience, and the process of gathering more information.

They are highly heeled and, for the most part, orange in both hue and political outlook.

I am sitting here, you are sitting there. Say even that you are sitting across the kitchen table from me right now. Our eyes meet; a consciousness snaps back and forth. What we know, at least for starters, is: here we- so incontrovertibly- are. This is our life, these are our lighted seasons, and then we die. In the meantime, in between time, we can see. The scales are fallen from our eyes, the cataracts are cut away, and we can work at making sense of the color-patches we see in an effort to discover where we so incontrovertibly are. I am as passionately interested in where I am as is a lone sailor sans sextant in a ketch on an open ocean. I have at the moment a situation which allows me to devote considerable hunks of time to seeing what I can see, and trying to piece it together. I’ve learned the name of some color-patches, but not the meanings. I’ve read books; I’ve gathered statistics feverishly: the average temperature of our planet is 57 degrees F…The average size of all living animals, including man, is almost that of a housefly. The earth is mostly granite, which is mostly oxygen…In these Appalachians we have found a coal bed with 120 seams, meaning 120 forests that just happened to fall into water…I would like to see it all, to understand it, but I must start somewhere, so I try to deal with the giant water bug in Tinker Creek and the flight of three hundred redwings from an Osage orange and let those who dare worry about the birthrate and population explosion among solar systems. So I think about the valley. And it occurs to me more and more that everything I have seen is wholly gratuitous. The giant water bug’s predations, the frog’s croak, the tree with the lights in it are not in any real sense necessary per se to the world or its creator. Nor am I. The creation in the first place, being itself, is the only necessity for which I would die, and I shall. The point about that being, as I know it here and see it, is that as I think about it, it accumulates in my mind as an extravagance of minutiae. The sheer fringe and network of detail assumes primary importance. That there are so many details seems to be the most important and visible fact about creation. If you can’t see the forest for the trees, then look at the trees; when you’ve looked at enough trees, you’ve seen a forest, you’ve got it. If the world is gratuitous, then the fringe of a goldfish’s fin is a million times more so. The first question- the one crucial one- of the creation of the universe and the existence of something as a sign and an affront to nothing is a blank one… The old Kabbalistic phrase is “the Mystery of the Splintering of the Vessels.” The words refer to the shrinking or imprisonment of essences within the various husk-covered forms of emanation or time. The Vessels splintered and solar systems spun; ciliated rotifers whirled in still water, and newts laid tracks in the silt-bottomed creek. Not only did the Vessels splinter; they splintered exceeding fine. Intricacy then is the subject, the intricacy of the created world.

And then there’s Stella. Stella is an interior decorator who’s been in the business for more than a decade. She had a thriving design firm and accolades out the wazoo. And yet, she still felt a niggling need to go to school to get certified. “Why would you want to waste your time doing that?” I asked. “You have a waiting list for your clients.” “Well, I’d feel more legit,” she said. FOR BUSINESS For the love of God and the information highway, please write your bio in first person—we all know you wrote it anyway. One of the most highly trafficked pages on small business websites is the “About” page. People are hiring you, paying attention to you, coming to see you. So they want to hear from… you. “You made more than a hundred grand last year and your clients refer you all the time. Isn’t that legit?” I asked. She was resisting, so I ramped up my persisting. “You know what you should say in your bio?” I said to her. “Say that you’re self-taught, in eighteen-point bold type. Let people know that you never set foot in a design college because you were too busy sewing your own drapes, shopping for textiles with your grandma, and learning how to build cabinets after school with your dad. It’s in your blood. Self-taught says ‘extra amazing.’ Self-taught says ‘natural talent.’ Just come out with it.” She skipped school.

into her chest. She had been right. Rayfort was the end. After that, she and Rhen would have to part ways, to follow different fates. Part of her had hoped that things would change after she had forced him to dance with the fire. And it

Beyond stupid,” John said. “You play with fire, you’re going to get the horns, Quentin. Remember I said that.” “How could I forget?

Prejudice and Bias The gospel presents the contrasting images of the log versus the splinter (v. 41). Any truly wise teacher or preacher must beware of personal prejudices, namely, the log in his or her own eye that can limit or even twist the message. Sometimes catechists and preachers simply expound their own prejudices rather than the truth of the Gospel or the authentic teaching of the church. Sometimes scholars teach what is in their eyelashes rather than what is in the text! Anytime we find ourselves surprised in a new situation, we should look inward because the very fact of surprise may indicate a prejudice or at least a presumption in the face of something unexpected. The “expected” could be the prejudice.

Acquiring your starter Pokémon   As with every Pokémon game, you first need to acquire your starter Pokémon. Since Pokémon Go currently only features first generation Pokémon, meaning only the very first 150 Pokémon ever made are in the game, you may choose either Squirtle: a water type Pokémon, Bulbasaur: a grass type Pokémon, Charmander: a fire type Pokémon or Pikachu: an electric type Pokémon. Simply tap on one of the Pokémon to attempt to catch it.   However, you may notice Pikachu is not currently on your screen. If you want to start out with Pikachu as your first Pokémon, you will need a different approach. In order to encounter Pikachu, you must first walk away from the three available Pokémon three to five times without catching any. If you successfully decline to choose either of these Pokémon, you will eventually encounter Pikachu. When Pikachu shows up, simply tap the Pokémon to attempt to catch it.   Now this does not mean that Pikachu is a rare Pokémon and neither are Squirtle, Bulbasaur and Charmander. Unlike some other Pokémon games, you can catch each and every one of these Pokémon in the wild. Therefore, there is no huge advantage in choosing a certain Pokémon. Choose whichever Pokémon you like best!   When you tapped either Squirtle, Bulbasaur, Charmander or Pikachu, your camera will show you your surroundings with the Pokémon you chose in it for you to catch. On the bottom of the screen you will find a Poké Ball and the amount of available Poké Balls next to it. To use a Poké Ball, you will need to swipe the Poké Ball in the right direction to hit the Pokémon.

Mental File Cabinet Starter Set: Why do you want to be a firefighter? ☐ What have you done to prepare? ☐ Conflict Resolution Customer Service x2 Diversity Best and Worst Trait Leadership Mental wellness Physical wellness Problem Solving City Specific Time Management Future Goals Education Teamwork Hardship Positive Attitude Work Ethic Support System Honesty Integrity Trust

We’re about to send a picture out over the network.” “But how?” “Watch and see,” Penny advised. In the center of the room stood two machines with cylinders, one for transmitting pictures to distant stations, the other for receiving them. On the sending cylinder was wrapped a glossy 8 by 10 photograph of a fire. As Penny spoke, an attendant pressed a starter switch on the sending machine. There was a high pitched rasp as the clutch threw in, and the cylinder bearing the picture began to turn at a steady measured pace. “It’s a complicated process,” Penny said glibly. “A photo electric cell scans the picture and transmits it to all the points on the network. Salt here could tell you more about it.

Car Camping Tips and Tricks Arrive in camp with a full tank of gas. Gas stations can be few and far between in the mountains. Store food in the car at night to deter bears and critters. Slip a headlamp around a gallon jug of water, with the lens side facing the plastic, to illuminate your tent with ambient light. Freeze water in plastic jugs and bottles and use them in the cooler instead of loose ice. Make fire starters by rubbing petroleum jelly onto cotton balls. Store in a ziplock bag. Bring a Frisbee and after playing, clean it and use as a plate or cutting board. It can also be a shovel in emergencies. Before you leave, crack any eggs you’ll need into a reusable water bottle and store in your cooler. Place spices in a weekly plastic vitamin or medicine container and relabel the top.

woman of exile and love you. were never afraid of being radical or becoming a full time student of human rights you. sacred. you. not tired. you. destiny driven. you. kathleen cleaver you. evelyn lowery you. juanita abernathy you. elaine brown you. power seekers you. goddess you. sojourner you. you. mariam makeba you. fire starter. you. nina simone you. international you. sister. you. mama africa

I was Abigail Crowne, fire starter, attention seeker, scandal maker. The Reject Princess. Unloved, uncared for, unwanted. There was only one way to dethrone a princess. As my mom said, you don’t get to stay a princess and marry a pauper, and a Crowne without a castle is just a hunk of metal.

My job as the XO is fire extinguisher. I solve the problems so that the captain doesn’t have to. But, paradoxically, I’m also a fire starter; I’m here to encourage people, get the sparks flying on dry wood, and build up the senior staff so they can do their jobs.

Gratitude is a feedback loop that will show you where you are thriving.

When Madonna moved to New York City, she was strapped for cash and took a job at Dunkin’ Donuts in Times Square. She got fired on the first day because she squirted jelly on a customer.

I’m sure our newcomers appreciate hearing that being diagnosed with HIV is not all doom and gloom.” The leader’s gaze swept over all the others in the circle. “With an attitude like Duncan’s, great things will happen to you. Don’t let the disease define you. Make the disease work for you instead.” An hour later, the meeting was over. John had gotten the opportunity to introduce himself to the group, something he would have preferred to have skipped, but that wasn’t allowed. Everyone must participate in that part; only the question and answer session that followed was optional. He hadn’t mentioned that he used to be a cop, certainly not that he had been fired. He’d just said that he was a private eye and that he would be happy to be their spy if they needed one. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Linda asked John when they were outside the room and in the hallway, where donuts and coffee and tea were served. Most of the participants milled around there, connecting with each other. John shrugged and grabbed a jelly donut. “I guess not.” The bespectacled leader named Robert came up to them then. He was on the short side and had an emaciated face with delicate features. He stuck out a bony hand toward John. John took it and gave it a firm shake. “John, it’s so nice to have you join us today,” Robert said with a broad smile that displayed big, graying teeth. Robert was HIV-positive as well, and in the chronic HIV stage. “Thank you for having me,” John said and returned the smile as best he could. “It’s been very…educational. I’m glad I came.” “Great,” Robert said, then his attention went to Linda. “Thanks for bringing your friend, Linda. And for coming again yourself.” “Oh, of course,” Linda said and smiled. Her hazel eyes glittered with warmth. “It’s a great group and you’re a great leader.” “Thank you. That’s so kind of you to say.” Robert tossed a glance over his shoulder, then leaned in toward John and Linda. “I just wanted to apologize for Doris.” “Apologize?” Linda repeated. “What did she do?” “Well, for starters, she’s not 33. She’s 64 and has been infected for thirty years. She’s also a former heroin addict and prostitute. She likes to pretend that she’s someone else entirely, and because we don’t want to upset her, we humor her. We pretend she’s being truthful when she talks about herself. I’d appreciate it if you help us keep her in the dark.” That last sentence had a tension to it that the rest of Robert’s words hadn’t had. It was almost like he’d warned them not to go against his will, or else. Not that it had been necessary to impress that on either John or Linda. John especially appreciated the revelation. Maybe having HIV was not as gruesome as Doris had made it seem then. Six Yvonne jerked awake when the phone rang. It rang and rang for several seconds before she realized where she was and what was going on. She pushed herself up on the bed and glanced around for the device. When she eventually spotted it on the floor beside the bed, it had stopped ringing. Even so, she rolled over on her side and fished it up to the bed. Crossing her legs Indian-style, she checked who had called her. It was Gabe, which was no surprise. He was the only one who had her latest burner number. He had left her a voicemail. She played it. “Mom, good news. I have the meds. Jane came through. Where do you want me to drop them off? Should I come to the motel? Call me.” Exhilaration streamed through her and she was suddenly wide awake. She made a fist in the air. Yes! Finally something was going their way. Now all they had to do was connect without Gabe leading the cops to her. She checked the time on the ancient clock radio on the nightstand. It was past six o’clock. So she must have slept

In her search for solutions [to high conflict], [Amanda] Ripley shows that the process of escaping these situations usually involves five steps. Participants in the conflict, she suggests, need to “investigate the understory” that made them so invested in the first place. They should “reduce the binary,” recognizing that they may share more values and interests with their adversaries than they realize. They must “marginalize the fire starters,” ceasing to listen to those who seem to get a thrill out of the fight. They should “buy time and make space,” stopping themselves from escalating when they feel triggered. Most important, they need to “complicate the narrative,” recognizing that any story in which one side consists of pure heroes and the other of cartoonish villains is unlikely to be altogether accurate.

Be strategic with your desires. Leverage your contradictions. Say no to resentment and yes to inspiration. Make ease a metric of success.

Fraktalene er også fulle av hull i ulike størrelser, og dette gjør at de kan ha en dimensjon som ikke er et helt tall. Et klassisk eksempel på en fraktal er Sierpinski-trekanten. Da starter man med en likesidet trekant og markerer midtpunktet på hver av sidekantene. Så forbinder man disse midtpunktene med rette streker. Da blir den opprinnelige trekanten delt i fire mindre trekanter, en i hvert hjørne og en som står på hodet i midten. Så fjerner man trekanten i midten ved å skravere den sort, så den blir et sort hull. Nå står man igjen med tre mindre kopier av den opprinnelige trekanten. Så gjentar man prosessen på hver av disse kopiene: Trekker rette streker mellom midtpunktet på sidekantene og fjerner trekanten som står på hodet i midten. Hvis man tenker seg at man fortsetter denne prosessen i det uendelige, vil man til slutt stå igjen med Sierpinski-trekanten. Den inneholder mindre kopier av seg selv på ulike nivåer og er full av hull i ulike størrelser. Dette fører til at Sierpinski-trekanten får en dimensjon som ikke er heltallig. Mens en trekant har dimensjon to, og en pyramide har dimensjon tre, vil dimensjonen til Sierpinski-trekanten være logaritmen til tre delt på logaritmen til to. Som er omtrent 1,57

As we walked, I pulled out the newspaper I’d found. “Getting caught up on current events?” Sam asked. “No,” Corey said. “She’s doing her research for that essay we have due next week. You know Maya. Escaping a forest fire, helicopter crash, and crazed would-be kidnappers is no reason to ask for an extension.” “I’m sure she brought it for fire-starter, guys.

Once again, I was conscious of the paradox of the compound: that here, at the heart of the unfolding events, we could catch no more than a glimpse of them. Fires were burning all over Dili; the smell was in our nostrils from the moment we wok up, and occasionally we could see columns of smoke. But the flames themselves, and the faces of the fire starters, were invisible. At the computers in the Unamet press room, we waited in turn to log on to the news websites and learn what was happening to us.