Frank Stephens Quotes

Death, but not for you, gunslinger. Never for you. You darkle. You tinct. May I be brutally frank? You go on.

And even if she says no, and really means yes, then quite frankly she's playing games and isn't worth the price of dinner.

All Frank knew was that the ones you really had to watch out for in this world were the ones that couldn’t love even a cat or a dog.

I think it was Donald Mainstock, the great amateur squash player who pointed out how lovely I was. Until that time I think it was safe to say that I had never really been aware of my own timeless brand of loveliness. But his words smote me, because of course you see, I am lovely in a fluffy moist kind of way and who would have it otherwise? I walk, and let’s be splendid about this, in a highly accented cloud of gorgeousness that isn't far short of being, quite simply terrific. The secret of smooth almost shiny loveliness, of the order of which we are discussing, in this simple, frank, creamy sort of way, doesn't reside in oils, unguents, balms, ointments, creams, astringents, milks, moisturizers, liniments, lubricants, embrocations or balsams, to be rather divine for just one noble moment, it resides, and I mean this in a pink slightly special way, in ones attitude of mind. To be gorgeous, and high and true and fine and fluffy and moist and sticky and lovely, all you have to do is believe that one is gorgeous and high and true and fine and fluffy and moist and sticky and lovely. And I believe it of myself, tremulously at first and then with rousing heat and passion, because, stopping off for a second to be super again, I’m so often told it. That’s the secret really.

was very fun to be around. She liked movies, and her brother Frank made her tapes of this great music that she shared with us. But over the summer she had her braces taken off, and she got a little taller and prettier and grew breasts. Now, she acts a lot dumber in the hallways, especially when boys are around. And I think it's sad because Susan doesn't look as happy.

In America, where surface has always passed for substance, people always believe guys like Frank Dunning.

The hands pulled him forward regardless. The hands of the Tower knew no mercy. They were the hands of Gan, the hands of ka, and they knew no mercy. He smelled alkali, bitter as tears. The desert beyond the door was white; blinding; waterless; without feature save for the faint, cloudy haze of the mountains which sketched themselves on the horizon. The smell beneath the alkali was that of the devil-grass which brought sweet dreams, nightmares, death. But not for you, gunslinger. Never for you. You darkle. You tinct. May I be brutally frank? You go on. And each time you forget the last time. For you, each time is the first time.

It doesn’t matter if you’re talking 1958, 1985, or 2011. In America, where surface has always passed for substance, people always believe guys like Frank Dunning.

frankly speaking, you look like ten pounds of shit in a five-pound bag.

Frank’s reflections were disturbed at this point by George T. Nelson’s parakeet, Tammy Faye, who had picked the most inauspicious moment of its small avian life to burst into song.

if shes says no, then you have to assume she means it...because if you force her to do something she doesn't want to do, then your in big trouble mister... and even if she says no, and really means yes, the quite frankly she's playing games and isn't worth the price of dinner.

Nowadays I just don’t care; I’ve taken the Frank Zappa stance. I am who I am! Some love me, some loathe me, some respect me and some despise me. But after all that’s been, I still love the insane! As they’re exciting, dangerous and highly explosive! For me mad dogs are gentlemen.

Por un instante, contemplando aquellos ojos enloquecidos, una especie de angustioso horror se apoderó de él y pensó: Hola, Frank. Eres tú, ¿verdad? ¿Hacía demasiado calor en el infierno?.

There’s nothing to be scared of.” Instead of taking Charlie’s pulse – there was really no point – he took one of the old man’s hands in his. He saw Charlie’s wife pulling down a shade in the bedroom, wearing nothing but the slip of Belgian lace he’d bought her for their first anniversary; saw how the ponytail swung over one shoulder when she turned to look at him, her face lit in a smile that was all yes. He saw a Farmall tractor with a striped umbrella raised over the seat. He smelled bacon and heard Frank Sinatra singing ‘Come Fly with Me’ from a cracked Motorola radio sitting on a worktable littered with tools. He saw a hubcap full of rain reflecting a red barn. He tasted blueberries and gutted a deer and fished in some distant lake whose surface was dappled by steady autumn rain. He was sixty, dancing with his wife in the American Legion hall. He was thirty, splitting wood. He was five, wearing shorts and pulling a red wagon. Then the pictures blurred together, the way cards do when they’re shuffled in the hands of an expert, and the wind was blowing big snow down from the mountains, and in here was the silence and Azzie’s solemn watching eyes.

The memories that went with the house—the sense of unfairness and failure, the patched hole in the kitchen wall—were too raw. Frank felt as though he had been tricked out of his entire life and the best part of that life had been lived at 51 Smith Lane,

When Stephen talked about stalking chamois his whole expression changed. The features became more aquiline, the nose sharpened, the chin narrowed, and his eyes-steel blue - somehow took on the cold brilliance of a northern sky. I am being very frank about my husband. He attracted me at those times, and he repelled me too. This man, I told myself when I first met him, is a perfectionist. And he has no compassion. Gratified like all women who find themselves sought after and desired - a mutual love for Sibelius had been our common ground at our first encounter - after a few weeks in his company I shut my eyes to further judgment, because being with him gave me pleasure. It flattered my self-esteem. The perfectionist, admired by other women, now sought me. Marriage was in every sense a coup. It was only afterwards that I knew myself deceived. ("The Chamois")

In the run-up to the election, Stephen Harper had rolled out the rhetoric on the need for clean and transparent government, expressing frustration with Paul Martin's Liberals over their alleged secrecy and obstructionism. "When a government starts trying to cancel dissent or avoid dissent," Harper declared in a statement to be later viewed as notable for ironic content, "Is frankly when it is rapidly losing its moral authority to govern.

Because I’m crazy, Tad. I’m here. I’ve been here all along. My name was Frank Dodd once, and I killed the ladies and maybe I ate them, too. I’ve been here all along, I stick around, I keep my ear to the ground. I’m the monster, Tad, the old monster, and I’ll have you soon, Tad. Feel me getting closer … and closer …

Lukas Stolz’s life in Germany after the wall fell seemed surreal. He couldn’t ignore the widespread sense of optimism, nor fail to hear the talk of ‘hope’ and ‘opportunity’. They were all deluded, of course. The people had surrendered. Confessed their collective failure. They need only prostrate themselves before the altar of the holy trinity: ‘money, choice and liberty’. Absolution was the gift of the west. And the west’s sanctimony in pardoning them of their sins was unfettered.

For Jack’s father it must have been more like the fate of McTeague the dentist at the end of Frank Norris’s great novel: handcuffed to a dead man in the wasteland.

Eski bir blues şarkısında, "Beni suçlamadan önce kendine bak," ifadesi vardır. Bakış açını genişletmen gerekiyor, Frank.

Frank Dunning’s first wife was your sister.’ ‘Well there. The man says the secret woid and wins a hunnert dollars.

Frank Herbert once put it, “The mystery of life is not a problem to solve but a reality to experience.

But not for you, gunslinger. Never for you. You darkle. You tinct. May I be brutally frank? You go on.

Billy’s whistle isn’t part of the act, which he doesn’t think of as an act but as his dumb self, the one he shows to guys like Nick and Frank and Paulie. It’s like a seatbelt.

America, where surface has always passed for substance, people always believe guys like Frank Dunning.

En Estados Unidos, donde la superficie siempre se ha confundido con la sustancia, la gente siempre ha creído a los tipos como Frank Dunning.

The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing. —Attributed to Jim Barksdale, Stephen Covey, Steve Jobs, the band Last Call, and others

Por un instante, contemplando aquellos ojos enloquecidos, una especie de angustioso horror se apoderó de él y pensó: Hola, Frank. Eres tú ¿verdad?. ¿Hacía demasiado calor en el infierno?

Frankly, the overwhelming majority of academics have ignored the data explosion caused by the digital age. The world’s most famous sex researchers stick with the tried and true. They ask a few hundred subjects about their desires; they don’t ask sites like PornHub for their data. The world’s most famous linguists analyze individual texts; they largely ignore the patterns revealed in billions of books. The methodologies taught to graduate students in psychology, political science, and sociology have been, for the most part, untouched by the digital revolution. The broad, mostly unexplored terrain opened by the data explosion has been left to a small number of forward-thinking professors, rebellious grad students, and hobbyists. That will change.

Bir psikiyatr buna ne derdi? Yer değiştirme mi? Eh, sevgi zor bir duyguydu. Frank'ın bildiği kadarıyla, bu dünyada gerçekten dikkatli olmak zorunda olduğun kişiler bir kediye veya köpeğe sevgi duyamayan insanlar oluyordu.

When Stephen reported that the Franks by now had most likely been defeated, the emperor elected to retreat to Constantinople. At this crucial moment Byzantium failed the crusade, and the Greeks were never fully forgiven. Stephen

Frank (...) továbbra is eljárt a terápiás ülésekre. A hír terjedt, és egyre több férfi jelent meg, az alagsorban a székek fele már foglalt volt. Azt mondták, "változást akarnak". Azt mondták, "rendbe akarják hozni az életüket". Azt mondták, "nem akarnak mindig ilyen kibaszott idegesek lenni".

Billy’s whistle isn’t part of the act, which he doesn’t think of as an act but as his dumb self, the one he shows to guys like Nick and Frank and Paulie. It’s like a seatbelt. You don’t use it because you expect to be in a crash, but you never know who you might meet coming over a hill on your side of the road.

Frank recoiled. The back of his head struck the file cabinet crammed in behind his desk. One thought—irrelevant but very clear—filled his mind: the news network had bleeped out motherfucker but had permitted America to see a woman tear off a goodly portion of her husband’s nose. Something in those priorities was badly screwed up.

Unmistakably behind Native Son, although in no way detracting from Wright’s personal achievement in creating the novel, is the tradition of naturalism, especially urban naturalism, in American writing as epitomized before Wright by novelists such as Frank Norris, Stephen Crane, Jack London, Theodore Dreiser, and James T. Farrell. To such writers, the city in the late nineteenth and the early twentieth centuries in America could be an alluring place; but it also often was, for persons without brains or money or simply good luck, a crucible in which the superficial elements of personality and civilization were quickly burned away, to reveal the animal underneath.

Did he have a story, one where his wife was either a little bit cracked or an outright villain? I thought yes. And did people believe it? The answer to that one was easy. It doesn’t matter if you’re talking 1958, 1985, or 2011. In America, where surface has always passed for substance, people always believe guys like Frank Dunning. 4

FRANK BIDART Song of the Mortar and Pestle The desire to approach obliteration preexists each metaphysic justifying it. Watch him fucked want to get fucked hard. Christianity allowed the flagellants light, for even Jesus found release from flesh requires mortification of the flesh. From the ends of the earth the song is, Grind me into dust.

They made but a single statement and delivered it without emotion, detached from the cruelty their words conveyed. They were ambivalent to his disintegration as a human being. What they said, the only words they uttered, were simple, unambiguous and not open to negotiation. If Kadin wanted to see his family alive again, he had to get out of the car.

All life-forms are a kind of living information, transforms, as Bate-son put it, of messages. Not, by any means, actors against a static background. But rather, information added to an already extant and very complex information system. There is, in consequence, a pattern that connects each part to each other and to the whole. A pattern that runs through everything that Gaia has done. As Frank Herbert noted . . . There is in all things a pattern that is part of our universe. It has symmetry, elegance, and grace—those qualities you find always in that which the true artist captures. You can find it in the turning of the seasons, in the way sand trails along a ridge, in the branch clusters of the creosote bush or the patterns of its leaves.13

Frank Ryan comments that The microbes that kill people, particularly those that kill huge numbers in sweeping epidemics, follow, in many ways, the same universal law of predator and prey. It is part of this complex gestalt that the balance is shaped by the behavior of the prey. If the prey moves—if it changes, if its numbers increase or decrease, if its ecology alters—the predator must move with it.29

physician and viral researcher Frank Ryan comments . . . Viruses have a kind of sensation that could be classed as intermediate between a rudimentary smell or touch . . . they have a way of detecting the chemical composition of cell surfaces. . . . This gives a virus the most exquisite ability to sense the right cell surfaces. It recognizes them through a perception in three-dimensional surface chemistry.1

When I looked back at the first volume, which you now hold in your hands, three obvious truths presented themselves. The first was that The Gunslinger had been written by a very young man, and had all the problems of a very young man's book. The second was that it contained a great many errors and false starts, particularly in light of the volumes that followed. The third was that The Gunslinger did not even sound like the later books - it was, frankly, rather difficult to read. All too often I heard myself apologizing for it, and telling people that if they persevered, they would find the story really found its voice in The Drawing of the Three.

When I looked back at the first volume, which you now hold in your hands, three obvious truths presented themselves. The first was that The Gunslinger had been written by a very young man, and had all the problems of a very young man’s book. The second was that it contained a great many errors and false starts, particularly in light of the volumes that followed.III The third was that The Gunslinger did not even sound like the later books—it was, frankly, rather difficult to read. All too often I heard myself apologizing for it, and telling people that if they persevered, they would find the story really found its voice in The Drawing of the Three.

those that were left—was then calling tube-neck, he had seen the twelve people he loved best in the world pass away while he himself remained healthy and feeling fine. He had joked at school about not being able to remember all his kids’ names, but the order of their passing was engraved on his memory: Jeff on the twenty-second, Marty and Helen on the twenty-third, his wife Harriett and Bill and George, Jr., and Robert and Stan on the twenty-fourth, Richard on the twenty-fifth, Danny on the twenty-seventh, three-year-old Frank on the twenty-eighth, and finally Pat—and Pat had seemed to be getting better, right up to the end. George thought he would go mad.

It is precisely in that relationship to the Reader that you will find most of the classic faults of style: pretension, condescension, servility, obscurantism, grandiosity, vulgarity, and the like--even academicism. That's why most faults of style can be described in language relevant to human relations. Is your style frank and open...does it have some understated agenda...is it out to prove something it does not or cannot admit...is it trying to impress...show off...is it kissing up...groveling...maybe just a tad passive-aggressive, with a mumbling half-audible voice that is unwilling to explain...is it trying to convince...overwhelm...help...seduce...give pleasure...inflict pain...There is no area of the writer's work that is more responsive to the psychology of human connection than style.

With most crimes, police generally do not arrest suspects without a warrant unless they personally witness it. Yet the mob justice surrounding domestic violence has brought the innovation of mandatory arrest, even when it is not clear who has committed the deed or even that any deed has been committed at all. One prosecutor in Hamilton County, Ohio, notes that this is “turning law-abiding citizens into criminals.” Judith Mueller of the Women’s Center in Vienna, Virginia, who had lobbied for the mandatory arrest law, says, “I am stunned, quite frankly, because that was not the intention of the law. It was to protect people from predictable violent assaults, where a history occurred, and the victim was unable for whatever reason to press charges. . . . It’s disheartening to think that it could be used punitively and frivolously.

coat!” the manager repeated. “Then you won’t have to pay the tax.” “But I have to sign a form,” my father exclaimed. “I have to declare the things I’ve bought and am bringing into the country.” “Don’t declare it; just wear it,” the manager said once again. “Don’t worry about the tax.” My father was silent for a moment, and then he said, “Look, frankly I’m not as worried about having to pay the tax as I am about this new salesman you’re training. He’s watching you. He’s learning from you. What is he going to think when you sign his commission? What kind of trust is he going to have in you in managing his career?” Can you see why employees don’t trust their managers? Most of the time, it’s not the huge, visible withdrawals like major ethics violations that wipe out organizational trust. It’s the little things—a day at a time, a weak or dishonest act at a time—that gradually weaken and corrode credibility. Whoever

Based on a 1934 play by George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart, Merrily We Roll Along tells the story of three friends—Franklin Shepard, a composer; Charley Kringas, a playwright and lyricist; and Mary Flynn, a novelist—who meet in the enthusiasm of youth, when everything seems possible. The play traces what happens to their dreams and goals as time passes and they are faced with life’s surprises, travails, successes, and disappointments. The trick here is that the play moves chronologically backward. It begins on an evening in 1976 at a party for the opening of a movie Frank has produced. The movie is apparently a hit, but Frank’s personal life is a mess. His second wife, Gussie, formerly a Broadway star, was supposed to have starred in the movie but was deemed too old; she resents being in the shadows and suspects, correctly, that Frank is having an affair with the young actress who took over her part. Frank is estranged from his son from his first marriage. He is also estranged from Charley, his former writing partner—so estranged, in fact, that the very mention of his name brings the party to an uncomfortable standstill. Mary, unable to re-create the success of her one and only novel and suffering from a longtime unreciprocated love for Frank, has become a critic and a drunk; the disturbance she causes at the party results in a permanent break with Frank. The opening scene reaches its climax when Gussie throws iodine in the eyes of Frank’s mistress. The ensemble, commenting on the action much like the Greek chorus in Allegro, reprises the title song, asking, “How did you get to be here? / What was the moment?” (F 387). The play then moves backward in time as it looks for the turning points, the places where multiple possibilities morphed into narrative necessity.

The Tale of Human Evolution The subject most often brought up by advocates of the theory of evolution is the subject of the origin of man. The Darwinist claim holds that modern man evolved from ape-like creatures. During this alleged evolutionary process, which is supposed to have started 4-5 million years ago, some "transitional forms" between modern man and his ancestors are supposed to have existed. According to this completely imaginary scenario, four basic "categories" are listed: 1. Australopithecus 2. Homo habilis 3. Homo erectus 4. Homo sapiens Evolutionists call man's so-called first ape-like ancestors Australopithecus, which means "South African ape." These living beings are actually nothing but an old ape species that has become extinct. Extensive research done on various Australopithecus specimens by two world famous anatomists from England and the USA, namely, Lord Solly Zuckerman and Prof. Charles Oxnard, shows that these apes belonged to an ordinary ape species that became extinct and bore no resemblance to humans. Evolutionists classify the next stage of human evolution as "homo," that is "man." According to their claim, the living beings in the Homo series are more developed than Australopithecus. Evolutionists devise a fanciful evolution scheme by arranging different fossils of these creatures in a particular order. This scheme is imaginary because it has never been proved that there is an evolutionary relation between these different classes. Ernst Mayr, one of the twentieth century's most important evolutionists, contends in his book One Long Argument that "particularly historical [puzzles] such as the origin of life or of Homo sapiens, are extremely difficult and may even resist a final, satisfying explanation." By outlining the link chain as Australopithecus > Homo habilis > Homo erectus > Homo sapiens, evolutionists imply that each of these species is one another's ancestor. However, recent findings of paleoanthropologists have revealed that Australopithecus, Homo habilis, and Homo erectus lived at different parts of the world at the same time. Moreover, a certain segment of humans classified as Homo erectus have lived up until very modern times. Homo sapiens neandarthalensis and Homo sapiens sapiens (modern man) co-existed in the same region. This situation apparently indicates the invalidity of the claim that they are ancestors of one another. Stephen Jay Gould explained this deadlock of the theory of evolution although he was himself one of the leading advocates of evolution in the twentieth century: What has become of our ladder if there are three coexisting lineages of hominids (A. africanus, the robust australopithecines, and H. habilis), none clearly derived from another? Moreover, none of the three display any evolutionary trends during their tenure on earth. Put briefly, the scenario of human evolution, which is "upheld" with the help of various drawings of some "half ape, half human" creatures appearing in the media and course books, that is, frankly, by means of propaganda, is nothing but a tale with no scientific foundation. Lord Solly Zuckerman, one of the most famous and respected scientists in the U.K., who carried out research on this subject for years and studied Australopithecus fossils for 15 years, finally concluded, despite being an evolutionist himself, that there is, in fact, no such family tree branching out from ape-like creatures to man.

BOOKS RECOMMENDED BY KATHLEEN MCGOWAN The Brother of Jesus and the Lost Teachings of Christianity, Jeffrey J. Butz Excellent account of early Christianity and its factions. Rev. Jeff’s understanding of Greek translations was a revelation for me. A rare scholarly work that is entirely readable and entertaining. The Woman with the Alabaster Jar, Margaret Starbird A pioneering book in Magdalene research, Starbird was one of the first to assert the theory of Magdalene as bride. Mary Magdalen, Myth and Metaphor, Susan Haskins The definitive Magdalene reference book. Massacre at Montsegur, Zoé Oldenbourg Classic, scholarly account of the final days of the Cathars. The Perfect Heresy, by Stephen O’Shea A very readable book on Cathar history. Chasing the Heretics, Rion Klawinski A history-filled memoir of traveling through Cathar country. Key to the Sacred Pattern, Henry Lincoln Fascinating theories on the sacred geometry of Rennes-le-Château and the Languedoc by one of the authors of Holy Blood, Holy Grail. Relics of Repentance, James F. Forcucci Contains the letters of Claudia Procula, the wife of Pontius Pilate. The Church of Mary Magdalene, Jean Markale Poet and philosopher Jean Markale’s quest for the sacred feminine in Rennes-le-Château. The Gospel of Mary Magdalene and The Gospel of Philip, Jean-Yves Leloup Highly readable French scholarly analyses of important Gnostic material. Nostradamus and the Lost Templar Legacy, Rudy Cambier Professor Cambier explores the prophecies of the Expected One from another angle. Who Wrote the Gospels?, Randel McCraw Helms Fascinating theories from a noted scholar on the authorship of the Gospels. Jesus and the Lost Goddess, Timothy Freke and Peter Gandy Well-researched alternative theories, also provides excellent resource list. Botticelli, Frank Zollner The ultimate coffee table book, with gorgeous reproductions of the art and great analysis of Sandro’s life and career.

But the US State department officials were stonewalling, informed both by their own antisemitism and anti-foreigner outlook. They hid behind claims that refugees might include Communists and spies; the Jews could, they said, become a destabilising force within America. US consular offices in Europe, like the one in Rotterdam, denied hundreds of thousands of people who applied from 1933, when Hitler was put in power, to 1945, when the war ended. American Rabbi Stephen Wise, who oversaw lobbying efforts for immigration from within the United States’ Jewish community, called this ‘death by bureaucracy’. Mrs Frank’s brothers,

You can grow up being a troublemaker and then before you know it the next thing you’re doing is listening to Frank Zappa whilst chilling out…now that’s the intelligent way out. What would a psychiatrist say about that?

A loon thought he was Frank Sinatra and every time Frank came on TV or radio the loon would go mad, impostor!

Stephen Dewar, vice president of operations, cofounded WhalePower with Frank Fish, Bill Bateman and Phil Watts. I've known Stephen for several years and have watched with interest the challenges faced by the company since it was incorporated. I recently asked him if he had advice for aspiring biomimicry entrepreneurs. His number one message: Have a clear vision of why you're taking on your project and where you want to go. Then, like nature, be flexible and adaptable. his staff even made T-shirts that quote one of his favorite sayings: "For every vision, there is an equal and opposite revision." Second: Do your homework. Be deeply interested in the science, so you can clearly differentiate what's not just a good biomimetic idea but one for which there is a strong market demand.

The example of the jet engine can help us to clear up another confusion. Science, according to many scientists, concentrates essentially on material causation. It asks the “how” questions: how does the jet engine work? It also asks the “why” question regarding function: why is this pipe here? But it does not ask the “why” question of purpose: why was the jet engine built? What is important here is that Sir Frank Whittle does not appear in the scientific account. To quote Laplace, the scientific account has “no need of that hypothesis”.29 Clearly, however, it would be ridiculous to deduce from this that Whittle did not exist. He is the answer to the question: why does the jet engine exist in the first place?

When I come home, they’re coming with me, Stephen.” She waited for the response. And waited. Meridith’s fist knotted, clutching her cotton nightshirt. Why wasn’t he responding? She continued, “Their uncle hasn’t contacted them. He obviously won’t be interested in guardianship, and frankly, I don’t think he’s fit anyway. And there isn’t anyone else. They’d go to foster care, probably be separated, and I can’t let that happen.” “But—we’re getting married.” He sounded stunned. “They’re my siblings.” “They were strangers two months ago.” “Well, they’re not now. They’re blood relatives, Stephen, and I care about them.” He gave a deep sigh. “I understand you feel a certain obligation. You’re really caught in a bad spot. But where am I in this decision? It’s our future, not just yours, and this isn’t the kind of decision you make alone, Meridith. Not when you’re engaged.” “I should’ve said something sooner, I know. But you were knee deep in taxes, and I—” “We’re talking about raising three children.” “You’ll love them, I know you will. And the oldest is thirteen— four years, and she’ll be off to college.” “You’re missing the point. Don’t I get a say?” He was right, of course. But what if he decided he couldn’t do it? “I’m sorry, Stephen, I know you’re right. But what do you want me to do? They’re my siblings. I can’t abandon them. I thought you’d understand; you know about my childhood. How can I not offer them the stability of a good home?” “It’s very admirable of you, but—” “You’d be a wonderful father, Stephen.” “I’m not ready for that.” The words, so pointedly spoken, made her reel. He hadn’t gotten upset, wasn’t yelling. He was calm and cool like always, but he wasn’t budging. “What am I supposed to do then, Stephen?” Even after three deep breaths, after closing her eyes and counting backward from ten, she wasn’t ready for his response. “I guess you have a choice to make.

And frankly, if you find yourself trapped by a creature blessed with the coordination of Stephen Hawking and the intelligence of a Black Friday midnight shopper you almost deserve to die.   No,

Acheson immediately understood the urgency of this message. He summoned Ambassador Franks and told him that the United States resolutely opposed “the use of force or the threat of the use of force” against Iran, and that Truman himself had “stressed most strongly that no situation should be allowed to develop into an armed conflict between a body of British troops and the Persian forces.

We're friends here, I tell you - absolutely palsy-walsy. We'll break bread and speak of many things - oxen and oil-tankers and whether or not Frank Sinatra really was a better crooner than Der Bingle.

study of these issues was going on in Yellowstone Park, where Frank and John Craighead were finishing a long-term project on grizzly bear ecology

They were climbing now, climbing the hill of hardened mud upon which the castle stood, and once they had left the lee of the dunes the flies grew less; the heat, on the other hand, was greater still. 'You are going a very disagreeable colour,' said Stephen. 'Should not you throw off that thick coat, and loosen your neckcloth? Heavy, corpulent subjects are liable to be carried off in a twinkling, if not by a frank, straightforward apoplexy, then at least by a cerebral congestion.

Frank’s notion of success is transformed from creating work of artistic integrity that contains the potential to change the world (act 2, scene 5) to the kind of worldly success that is marked by money, possessions, and status (act 1, scene 1), a transformation that occurs gradually through his relationship with Gussie. Gussie represents the worldly idea of success, and she positions herself with men who she thinks can help her get it. She moves from being Joe’s secretary to being his wife so as to have a producer to cast her in shows. After five flops, she desperately needs a hit that will establish her as a star, and so she initiates her seduction of Frank. This begins a triangular tug-of-war with Frank in the middle: Mary (not the oblivious Beth) trying to pull Frank back from Gussie’s sexual seduction; and Charley trying to pull Frank back from her idea of worldly success. This tug-of-war plays out through many decisions, some big, some small, not all of them Frank’s: Frank and Charley’s decision to do Musical Husbands as a vehicle for Gussie and then to do one more fluff musical, Sweet Sorrow, for Joe; Beth’s decision to leave Frank with Gussie on the opening night of Musical Husbands; Charley and Mary’s miscalculated decision to encourage Frank to go on the cruise; Gussie’s decision to leave Joe; Frank’s decision, seemingly a small one, not to join Charley and Mary at the Downtown Club on the night he returns from the cruise. Where exactly Frank could have or should have said no so as to have changed his life story is not clear. Rather, the cumulative effect of his and others’ decisions is described by the ensemble in the title song: How does it start to go? Does it slip away slow, So you never even notice it’s happening? (F 383)

Once when they went horseback riding with other young couples, they came to a stream and all the other men helped their women across. But not Lincoln: he rode on alone and left Mary to fend for herself. She was miffed. Frankly, she thought he had terrible manners. And he was moody, too, and seemed never to have anything to say that was light and fun and tender. He never said much at all.

I made another comeback in the sweet science of boxing, and nobody say I’ve had more comebacks than Frank Sinatra… ‘cos he’s dead.

Stephen also spoke negatively about the Temple. Interestingly, both Jesus and Stephen were charged with the same exact crime—speaking against the Temple (see Mark 14:58; Acts 6:13-14).

On the afternoon of October 8, CIA officers presented this plot, called Operation Fortune, to their counterparts at the State Department. Frank Wisner said that the CIA was seeking approval “to provide certain hardware to a group planning violence against a certain government.” Another officer asserted that the operation was necessary because “a large American company must be protected.” State Department officials at the meeting, according to one account, “hit the ceiling.” One of them, David Bruce, Allen’s old OSS comrade, told him that the State Department “disapproves of the entire deal.” The next morning Smith gave his men the bad news. J. C. King, chief of the Western Hemisphere division, recorded the meeting in a memorandum. The Director explained to [initials not declassified] that all plans for the operation were canceled. [Initials not declassified] then pointed out the responsibilities we have toward the people who are already in the field and who have committed themselves, and the dangers to the entire Caribbean of the decision reached yesterday. The Director replied that he was fully aware of the dangers inherent in such a decision, but that this Agency is merely an executive agency to carry out the policies of the Department of State and the Department of Defense, and if they instruct us not to engage in a certain operation, we shall not engage in that operation. [Initials not declassified] then commented that the Department of State might very well change its position in the near future.… To this the Director agreed.

Years later it became clear that Allen’s efforts to influence the American press were not casual or episodic, but part of a multifaceted project called Operation Mockingbird. Through it he funneled information, some of it classified, to journalists disposed to promote the CIA worldview, among them James Reston of the New York Times, Benjamin Bradlee of Newsweek, and the influential columnists Joseph and Stewart Alsop. Operatives also planted stories in smaller news outlets and then arranged for them to be amplified through networks controlled by friendly media barons. Frank Wisner, who helped oversee Mockingbird, called it the CIA’s “mighty Wurlitzer.