Fuse Character Quotes

I was generally pro-bat, except when I was trekking through the dark trying not to think about the dire fate of every horror movie character stupid enough to go into the dark with a flashlight and check the fuses.

The acquisition of knowledge from books provides an experience different from the Internet. Reading is relatively time-consuming; to ease the process, style is important. Because it is not possible to read all books on a given subject, much less the totality of all books, or to organize easily everything one has read, learning from books places a premium on conceptual thinking—the ability to recognize comparable data and events and project patterns into the future. And style propels the reader into a relationship with the author, or with the subject matter, by fusing substance and aesthetics. Traditionally, another way of acquiring knowledge has been through personal conversations. The discussion and exchange of ideas has for millennia provided an emotional and psychological dimension in addition to the factual content of the information exchanged. It supplies intangibles of conviction and personality. Now the culture of texting produces a curious reluctance to engage in face-to-face interaction, especially on a one-to-one basis.

Many observers have noticed that love eliminates the distinction between giving and receiving. Since the selves of the two lovers are intermingled, scrambled, and fused, it feels more delicious to give to the beloved than to receive.

When I fall in love with someone, then that doesn’t “just” happen… When I love someone’s character, over time I’ll see that personality, I love so much, shining through their eyes and fusing with their appearance, turning them in the most beautiful girl in the world. It’s not about appearance, it’s about someone’s beautiful, amazing, wonderful, fantastic personality, you’ll see every time you look at her. It’s about the fact that when you look in her eyes, you just feel home… You forget all your problems, all your fears, you just feel safe, you feel like you’ve finally found a place where you belong… A place you can spend an eternity, where you will spend an eternity, cause those enchanting, beautiful eyes will slow down time and make every second; looking in her beautiful eyes, right into her amazing personality, last more than a lifetime. It’s about the fact that the whole world, the whole universe just looks so much more beautiful!! All of a sudden everything looks different and your heart will just start smiling. That’s what love is all about… the moment someone you only “liked” before, changes into the most aesthetically pleasing girl in the world. The moment you realize how blind you’ve been all those days, how you were living in a fake universe, never knowing that the only thing your life is all about, the only thing that keeps you smiling, was all the time right next to you.

Academics concede that the Bible’s text is full of “pious fraud.” They admit that there are two gods spoken of in the opening books, and that as time went by the two (Elohim and Jehovah) were fused into one, henceforth referred to as “Lord God.” They concede the errors, fictions, skewed facts and accounts of characters who never existed. They admit the plagiarism, and that the Four Gospels were not written by the so-called “Saints” after whom they are named.

Society itself falls apart into class and intraclass groups; individual life-sequences are directly linked with these and together both individual life and subgroups are opposed to the whole. Thus in the early stages of slaveholding society and in feudal society, individual life-sequences are still rather tightly interwoven with the common life of the most immediate social group. But nevertheless they are separate, even here. The course of individual lives, of groups, and of the sociopolitical whole do not fuse together, they are dispersed, there are gaps; they are measured by different scales of value; each of these series has its own logic of development, its own narratives, each makes use of and reinterprets the ancient motifs in its own way. Within the boundaries of individual life-series, an interior aspect makes itself apparent. The process of separating out and detaching individual life-sequences from the whole reaches its highest point when financial relations develop in slaveholding society, and under capitalism. Here the individual sequence takes on its specific private character and what is held in common becomes maximally abstract. The ancient motifs that had passed into the individual life-narratives here undergo a specific kind of degeneration. Food, drink, copulation and so forth lose their ancient "pathos" (their link, their unity with the laboring life of the social whole); they become a petty private matter; they seem to exhaust all their significance within the boundaries of individual life. As a result of this severance from the producing life of the whole and from the collective struggle with nature, their real links with the life of nature are weakened-if not severed altogether.

Dreams built with trust (character and competence) ignite the best in each and everyone of us. We must keep dreaming. We must continue to light the fuse of each other’s dreams so that one day, we can ALL dream together.

When God wants to drill a man, And thrill a man, And skill a man, When God wants to mold a man To play the noblest part; When He yearns with all His heart To create so great and bold a man That all the world shall be amazed, Watch His methods, watch His ways! How He ruthlessly perfects Whom He royally elects! How He hammers him and hurts him, And with mighty blows converts him Into trial shapes of clay which Only God understands; While his tortured heart is crying And he lifts beseeching hands! How He bends but never breaks When his good He undertakes; How He uses whom He chooses, And with every purpose fuses him; But every act induces him To try His splendor out— God knows what He’s about. SELECTED Life is a quarry, out of which we are to mold and chisel and complete a character. GOETHE

Cultural diversity and territorial flexibility give empires not only their unique character, but also their central role in history. It’s thanks to these two characteristics that empires have managed to unite diverse ethnic groups and ecological zones under a single political umbrella, thereby fusing together larger and larger segments of the human species and of planet Earth.

There was one story that anger certainly lit the fuse of. In the 1960's, in my home town of Jackson, the civil rights leader Medgar Evers was murdered on night in darkness and I wrote a story that same night about the murderer (identity unknown) called "Where Is The Voice Coming From?" But all that absorbed me, though it started as outrage, was the necessity I felt for entering into the mind and inside the skin of a character who could hardly have been more alien or repugnant to me. Trying for my utmost, I wrote in the first person. I was wholly vaunting the prerogative of the short-story writer. It is always vaunting, of course, to imagine yourself inside another person, but it is what a story writer does in every piece of work; it is his first step, and his last too, I suppose. I'm not sure this story was brought off; and I don't believe that my anger showed me anything about human character that my sympathy and rapport never had.

When a movie begins with the words “Based on a True Story,” what crosses your mind? Do you assume every line of dialogue, every bit of clothing and song in the background is the same as it was in the true event on which the film was based? Of course you don’t. You know movies like Pearl Harbor or Erin Brockovich take artistic license with facts, shaping them so a coherent story will unfold with a beginning, middle, and end. Even biopics about the lives of musicians or politicians who are still alive are rarely the absolute truth. Some things are left out, or some people are fused into single characters. The details, you think when watching, are less important than the big picture, the general idea. If only you were so savvy when it came to looking back on the biopic in your head, but you are not so smart. You see, the movie up there is just as dramatized, and scientists have known this for quite a while. It all starts with your brain’s desire to fill in the gaps. Take

mistake—could these facts lead to any conclusion other than that they were the desperate emissaries of some body, political or otherwise, who intended to sacrifice themselves, their fellow-passengers, and the ship, in one great holocaust? The whitish granules which I had seen one of them pour into the box formed no doubt a fuse or train for exploding it. I had myself heard a sound come from it which might have emanated from some delicate piece of machinery. But what did they mean by their allusion to to-night? Could it be that they contemplated putting their horrible design into execution on the very first evening of our voyage? The mere thought of it sent a cold shudder over me, and made me for a moment superior even to the agonies of sea-sickness. I have remarked that I am a physical coward. I am a moral one also. It is seldom that the two defects are united to such a degree in the one character. I have known many men who were most sensitive to bodily danger, and yet were distinguished for the independence and strength of their minds. In my own case, however, I regret to say that my quiet and retiring habits had fostered a nervous dread of doing anything remarkable or making myself conspicuous, which exceeded, if possible, my fear of personal peril.

You see now how the case stands — do you not?” he continued. “After a youth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in dreary solitude, I have for the first time found what I can truly love — I have found you. You are my sympathy — my better self — my good angel. I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one. “It was because I felt and knew this, that I resolved to marry you. To tell me that I had already a wife is empty mockery: you know now that I had but a hideous demon. I was wrong to attempt to deceive you; but I feared a stubbornness that exists in your character. I feared early instilled prejudice: I wanted to have you safe before hazarding confidences. This was cowardly: I should have appealed to your nobleness and magnanimity at first, as I do now — opened to you plainly my life of agony — described to you my hunger and thirst after a higher and worthier existence — shown to you, not my RESOLUTION (that word is weak), but my resistless BENT to love faithfully and well, where I am faithfully and well loved in return. Then I should have asked you to accept my pledge of fidelity and to give me yours. Jane — give it me now.

How had she ended up like this, imprisoned in the role of harridan? Once upon a time, her brash manner had been a mere posture - a convenient and amusing way for an insecure teenage bride, newly arrived in America, to disguise her crippling shyness. People had actually enjoyed her vituperation back then, encouraged it and celebrated it. She had carved out a minor distinction for herself as a 'character': the cute little English girl with the chutzpah and the longshoreman's mouth. 'Get Audrey in here,' they used to cry whenever someone was being an ass. 'Audrey'll take him down a peg or two.' But somewhere along the way, when she hadn't been paying attention, her temper had ceased to be a beguiling party at that could be switched on and off at will. It had begun to express authentic resentments: boredom with motherhood, fury at her husband's philandering, despair at the pettiness of her domestic fate. She hadn't noticed the change at first. Like an old lady who persists in wearing the Jungle Red lipstick of her glory days, she had gone on for a long time, fondly believing that the stratagems of her youth were just as appealing as they had ever been. By the time she woke up and discovered that people had taken to making faces at her behind her back - that she was no longer a sexy young woman with a charmingly short fuse but a middle-aged termagant - it was too late. Her anger had become a part of her. It was a knotted thicket in her gut, too dense to be cut down and too deeply entrenched in the loamy soil of her disappointments to be uprooted.

Have I told you yet just how handsome you look tonight?” He grinned, her stilted attempt at flirtation so out of character that he knew she was flustered. “Are you flirting with me, Mrs. McClare?” he asked with a jut of his brow, laughing out loud when her cheeks fused bright pink. He neatly executed a wide spin, as fluid as if they were one. “And have I ever told you just how adorable you are when you’re nervous?” “I am not nervous,” she said with a thrust of her chin, a flicker of a smile at the edge of her lips. A familiar spark in those mesmerizing green eyes told him he’d struck a nerve. “Ah, now there’s the Caitlyn I know and love.” Palm grazing her shoulder blade, he swept her in a wide arc, her body as graceful and light as the chiffon folds of her dress as they fluttered in the breeze. His smile faded to tender. “This is me, Cait, remember?” he said quietly. “No need to be nervous.” She

The Unbidden An unbidden grace seizes me, compelling me to be what I know I ought to be. To let it in I know I must let go. This is the grace of aspiration, The gravitas of one hundred New Year’s resolutions, with peaks of love, death and transience jagged as the Teton’s crown. With a nervous laughter I imagine it as the frazzled smile on a cartoon character. There is altitude in grace; I’m anointed sherpa of my landscape. Fumeroles of memory erupt through my soul, pointing to a underground river of propinquity. Time and space fuse, the desperation of the disparate is vanquished. In the mindscape of grace, everything flows in two directions. Memories ripple forward and are joined by new events cascading backwards. My sherpa calls this swirling cauldron life, the manufacturer of all meaning. Without the epiphany of the unbidden, we are without compass and forever lost.

The Ballad of John Axon was the first of a series created by MacColl, Seeger and BBC producer Charles Parker that shone the microphone like a searchlight into obscure or overlooked sectors of British society: fishermen, teenagers, motorway builders, miners, polio sufferers, even the nomadic travelling community. Gathered on the spot, their oral histories were reworked as intelligent and dynamic folk anthropology, attuned to their era’s nuanced tug-of-war between conservatism and progress. The eight programmes, broadcast by the BBC between 1958–64, were experiments conducted on the wireless, splicing spoken word, field recordings, sound effects, traditional folk song and newly composed material into audio essays that verged on the hypnotic. They were given a name that elegantly fused tradition and modernity: radio ballads. Until the mid-1950s standard BBC practice in making radio documentaries involved researchers visiting members of the public – ‘actuality characters’ – and talking to them, perhaps even recording them, then returning to headquarters and working out a script based on their testimonies. The original subjects would then be revisited and presented with the scripted version of their own words. That’s the reason such programmes sound so stilted to modern ears: members of the public are almost always speaking a scriptwriter’s distillation of their spontaneous thoughts. When MacColl and Charles Parker drove up to Stockport in the autumn of 1957 with an EMI Midget tape recorder in their weekend bags, they planned to interview Axon’s widow and his colleagues for information, then turn their findings into a dramatic reconstruction featuring actors and musicians. In fact, they stayed in the area for around a fortnight and ended up with more than forty hours of voices and location recordings. The material, they agreed, was too good to tamper with.

THE YOUTH IN MY LAND Citizens, brethrens, go to school on a daily, a number of them on a muddy road, bare footed on a scorching sunshine with an undying hope of a better tomorrow.. Every one well convinced by the education system that there is a wage for the daily walk, Self torture is the process one has to go through in my homeland.. The only key to success is education they all say.. They used to say, They say.. For the few that fend their way out come up with the deep developed thirst for the dreamt life.. Only to be asked later on what's your name?.. Who sent you? These questions become the last password to the highly dreamt world.. It takes great courage for one to get the answers for the seemingly little questions. Millions of the youth shy away in desperation back to their roots.. The dreamt life becomes the dreaded one.. They were taught that one day they Will walk on to the streets of the world as kings... Adorable kings.. They have to.. They have to find a life on the streets... They can't go back to the same life they despised.. They are now so full with hope.. They meet a number of alikes.. All seated wondering what next, how to sleep like kings they were trained to be.. Of course in the deserted ends of the town.. They are in hiding.. Hiding from the expectant world.. Not in pride but shame To live in shame is soaring and they need comfort.. They pass time by taking a puff... Not a mere puff but of the unknown substance... To find homage.. They are in numbers remember so frightened.. As times go on... Hope is gone.. But each day on its own They are the youth of my country I suppose I have found it easier to identify with the characters who verge upon desperacy, who are frightened of life, who are desperate to reach out to their dreams . But these seemingly fragile people are the strong people really... This is one more piece of advice I have for you: don't get impatient. Even if things are so tangled up you can't do anything, don't get desperate or blow a fuse and start yanking on one particular thread before it's ready to come undone. You have to realize it's going to be along process and that you'll work on things slowly, one at a time... Just keep the hopes alive, time matters.. BY DERRICK BARARA

Are you taking me out in the woods to murder me? Because I gotta say, I did not see that coming, and I’m usually an excellent judge of character.” Chase

Because these characters perform against the vast backdrops of American politics and social upheaval, and because their personal destinies, their wishes, and their dreams are inextricably fused with the largest and most crucial concerns of the nation, Scarlett and Mitch and Jack and Scout and the others cannot help but stir us. They are ordinary American folks from humble roots who have answered some resounding call and risen beyond their limitations to impossible heights. If their battles had been smaller, less important, less connected to the national pulse, frankly, most of us wouldn’t have given a damn.

We must consider the way that neo-subjects, far from being left to their own devices, are governed in the performance/pleasure apparatus. To perceive nothing but unhindered enjoyment in present social conditions, identified sometimes with the 'internalization of market values' and sometimes with the unlimited expansion of democracy', is to forget the dark side of neo-liberal normativity: the increasingly heavy surveillance of public and private space; the increasingly precise traceability of individuals' movements in networks; the increasingly punctilious and petty evaluation of individuals activity; the increasingly significant impact of fused information and advertising systems; and, perhaps above all, the increasingly insidious forms of self-control by subjects themselves. In short, it is to forget the overall character of the government of neo-subjects which, in and through the diversity of its vectors, combines the obscene display of pleasure, the entrepreneurial injunction of performance, and the cross-linkage of generalized surveillance.

Both camps are fused in their rejection of American culture as inauthentic, with the Left viewing this above all as a consequence of America’s commercialism and capitalism, and the Right seeing it as the outcome of America’s supposed lack of history and tradition, in other words, as a result of Americans’ not having the profundity, intellectualism, and that indispensable mixture of education and character formation Germans call “Bildung.”43 If to the European Right America’s main evil lies in its excessive egalitarianism and racial permissiveness, then to the Left it is America’s inequality and racism that are its hallmarks.

It is said that Edward had very enlightened, advanced, and comprehensive ideas of statesmanship; that he wished to fuse England, Scotland, and Wales into one grand monarchy, with anticipation of a great future for the whole. The extreme exasperation he felt, and the savage cruelty he showed to the patriotic Scots who opposed him, were quite a natural result of the baffling and frustration of his wise conception and benificent designs. In the history of nations, as in that of philosophy, we are very apt to interject into ancient actors and thinkers modern ideas, at which, probably, they would have stood amazed. At the best, this view of the character and motives of Edward is a mere hypothesis. But, supposing him to have held that it was infinitely better for Scotland to submit to his rule, that hardly gave him a right to use violence, brutality, and murder to enforce his views.

Karma in its effect on character is the most tremendous power that man has to deal with. Man is, as it were, a centre, and is attracting all the powers of the universe towards himself, and in this centre is fusing them all and again sending them off in a big current. Such a centre is the real man — the almighty, the omniscient — and he draws the

The most powerful thing you can do is create a strong image you can maintain, the stronger your stereotype, the more predictable you are, the more powerful suddenly going out of character will become. Be cute, be brooding, be violent and short-fused... be honourable.

Himalayan Sonneteer Sonnet 2 Just like every family needs a pillar, Every generation needs a rock. All may sprinkle salt on each other's wounds, You for one, be the ointment to the epoch. Be the foundation stone to civilization, Be the walking measure of human character. You are the definition of sapience, You are the very definer. Let no law define your duty, Let no scripture determine goodness. Let no ancestor imprison your identity, Expand, explore and usher into sentience. You are the illusion, you are the truth. When evil hangs heavy, you gotta blow your fuse.

The past should never serve as an encumbrance, but we must exploit our experiences as learning assets. The only importance of any experience is to test oneself. Worthy challenges, fused with humility of spirit, enrich a person’s character. One must harvest the grain from their effort and discard the shaft. Before moving onward, it is critical for me to look back and remove any negative predilections that accumulated from days gone by that might mar, stunt, or otherwise arrest future personal development.

The pathways with axons pointed towards the core, and which carry impulses inward, are called the afferent pathways. They originate in the various sensory endings of the body—the exteroceptors on the surface, the proprioceptors in the connective tissues (especially the joints), and the interoceptors in the the internal organs. Their final axons terminate in the sensory cortex. They are often referred to as the sensory pathways. Their job is to carry to all the levels of the nervous system information about everything that is affecting the organism—that is, all sensory stimulation. Four of these afferent pathways are short and distinct, arising from the highly localized and specialized areas of the “special senses”—sight, hearing, taste, and smell. The fifth kind of sensory information, that wide array of sensations we refer to collectively as “touch,” converges on the cortex from virtually every surface and cranny of the body. These are the “somatic senses,” and they include all of the pathways and endings which inform us of our internal state of affairs and our relationship to the outside world. The afferent, inflowing pathways of the nervous system constitute one of the principal tools of bodywork. It is by their means that surface contact and pressure enter into the deeper strata of the mind, where genetic potential and sensory experience are fused into behavior and character. Each successive afferent neuron is a finger reaching deeper and deeper into the interior, making its influence felt on all levels which influence behavior. It is sensory input which has conditioned our reflexes, postures, and habits into the patterns in which we find ourselves living. Nothing would seem to be more reasonable than the expectation that different sensory input can recondition these habits and patterns, alter them, improve them. This input can be different both in the sense of being more, giving additional nutritive contact to the various subtle degrees of “deprivation dwarfism,” and in the sense of being more pleasurable, more caring, softening and dissolving compulsive patterns that have been created by pain and stress.

The Passover of the deceased Pharaoh through the House of Osiris (as I have shown) is the same narrative which the Jew has plagiarized from the ancient Egyptians and fused it into the character of Elijah. Another proof lies in 2 Kings 2:9 where we read about Elijah's Ka getting bestowed in succession upon Elisha.

The man of genius is he who understands incomparably more other beings than the average man. Goethe is said to have said of himself that there was no vice or crime of which he could not trace the tendency in himself, and that at some period of his life he could not have understood fully. The genius, therefore, is a more complicated, more richly endowed, more varied man; and a man is the closer to being a genius the more men he has in his personality, and the more really and strongly he has these others within him. If comprehension of those about him only flickers in him like a poor candle, then he is unable, like the great poet, to kindle a mighty flame in his heroes, to give distinction and character to his creations. The ideal of an artistic genius is to live in all men, to lose himself in all men, to reveal himself in multitudes; and so also the aim of the philosopher is to discover all others in himself, to fuse them into a unit which is his own unit.

Once there was a single consciousness that unified everything. Within this consciousness were two beings: Shiva, the infinite supreme consciousness, and Shakti, the eternal supreme consciousness. Shiva represents time, and Shakti, space. Here is the yang of Oriental medicine, cloaked in the Shiva figure, and the yin shown within the Shakti. These two beings separated, creating a distinction between matter and consciousness within the universe—and within the children of the universe, including people. Shakti lies within us all, coiled within our root chakra in the guise of a serpent. In this form, she is the Kundalini Shakti, the “power at rest.”15 She only becomes manifest, however, when she moves—and that is her ultimate goal, to rise through the denseness of the body until she can rejoin her great love, Shiva, who resides in the seventh chakra. When unified, the two create through supreme consciousness. Shakti is not just an ethereal being. She is seen as the cause of prana, or life force. She has sound and form; she is composed of alphabet characters, or mantras. When Shiva and Shakti join, they create nada (pure cosmic sound) and maha bindu (the supreme truth that underlies all manifestation). What does this mean for the initiate who fuses these two beings—these two parts of him- or herself? The graduate is freed from the confines of the physical body. Innate powers—mystical, magical abilities—awaken. Moreover, the soul is freed from the wheel of life that forces reincarnation. Science tells a similar story, using different words. According to recent studies, the entire world can be reduced to frequency and vibration. As we saw in Part III, we are all composed of the L-fields and T-fields that form unified frequencies. We are all made of the “male” and the “female,” the electrical and the magnetic. If we can achieve the balance and blending of each, then there is harmony, and within that harmony, healing. To follow the path of kundalini is not “only” to achieve an enlightened state of mind. It is to heal the mind, soul, spirit—and body.