Good Ventilation Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Good Ventilation. Here they are! All 28 of them:

There is no desert like living without friends. Friendship multiplies the good of life and divides the evil. ’Tis the sole remedy against misfortune, the very ventilation of the soul. clix
Baltasar Gracián (The Art of Worldly Wisdom (Illustrated))
And the fan takes over again, and the heat and the relaxed air and the memory of so many good little dinners in so many good little illegal places, with the theme of love, the sound of ventilation, the brief medicinal illusion of gin.
E.B. White (Essays of E. B. White)
The Cause of Colds: Although germs and viruses had yet to be discovered, Franklin was one of the first to argue that colds and flu “may possibly be spread by contagion” rather than cold air. “Traveling in our severe winters, I have often suffered cold sometimes to the extremity only short of freezing, but this did not make me catch cold,” he wrote the Philadelphia physician Benjamin Rush in 1773. “People often catch cold from one another when shut up together in close rooms, coaches, etc., and when sitting near and conversing so as to breathe in each other’s transpiration.” The best defense was fresh air. Throughout his life, Franklin liked good ventilation and open windows, even in the midst of winter.14
Walter Isaacson (Benjamin Franklin: An American Life)
Spending one’s final days in an ICU because of terminal illness is for most people a kind of failure. You lie attached to a ventilator, your every organ shutting down, your mind teetering on delirium and permanently beyond realizing that you will never leave this borrowed, fluorescent place. The end comes with no chance for you to have said good-bye or “It’s okay” or “I’m sorry” or “I love you.
Atul Gawande (Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End)
When fat is heated to frying temperatures, whether it be animal fat, such as lard, or plant fat, such as vegetable oil, toxic volatile chemicals with mutagenic properties (those able to cause genetic mutations) are released into the air.22 This happens even before the “smoke point” temperature is reached.23 If you do fry at home, good ventilation in the kitchen may reduce lung cancer risk.24 Cancer risk may also depend on what’s being fried. A study of women in China found that smokers who stir-fried meat every day had nearly three times the odds of lung cancer compared to smokers who stir-fried foods other than meat on a daily basis.25 This is thought to be because of a group of carcinogens called heterocyclic amines that are formed when muscle tissue is subjected to high temperatures.
Michael Greger (How Not to Die: Discover the Foods Scientifically Proven to Prevent and Reverse Disease)
We're on the fifth floor," Linda points out. "He didn't just wander in here." "Nick leaves the window open for him," Andy says, remembering the kitchen window that has to be left cracked, allegedly for ventilation. Nick shoots him a betrayed look. "How have I been here a full week and not seen this fellow until now?" "He doesn't live here. He isn't my cat. I just-- Look, sometimes he gets up to the top of the fire escape and can't get back down, so I leave my window open and them carry him down to the street." "You carry the cat down to the street," Andy says. "Otherwise he screams his head off outside my window!" "He lets you carry him down." "Lets is a strong word. He doesn't actively try to kill me, let's say.
Cat Sebastian (We Could Be So Good)
In 2008, the national Coping with Cancer project published a study showing that terminally ill cancer patients who were put on a mechanical ventilator, given electrical defibrillation or chest compressions, or admitted, near death, to intensive care had a substantially worse quality of life in their last week than those who received no such interventions. And, six months after their death, their caregivers were three times as likely to suffer major depression. Spending one’s final days in an ICU because of terminal illness is for most people a kind of failure. You lie attached to a ventilator, your every organ shutting down, your mind teetering on delirium and permanently beyond realizing that you will never leave this borrowed, fluorescent place. The end comes with no chance for you to have said good-bye or “It’s okay” or “I’m sorry” or “I love you.
Atul Gawande (Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End)
On the first day of his duel with the bears, Saunders, operating behind his mask of brokers, bought 33,000 shares of Piggly Wiggly, mostly from the short sellers; within a week he had brought the total to 105,000—more than half of the 200,000 shares outstanding. Meanwhile, ventilating his emotions at the cost of tipping his hand, he began running a series of advertisements in which he vigorously and pungently told the readers of Southern and Western newspapers what he thought of Wall Street. “Shall the gambler rule?” he demanded in one of these effusions. “On a white horse he rides. Bluff is his coat of mail and thus shielded is a yellow heart. His helmet is deceit, his spurs clink with treachery, and the hoofbeats of his horse thunder destruction. Shall good business flee? Shall it tremble with fear? Shall it be the loot of the speculator?” On Wall Street, Livermore went on buying Piggly Wiggly.
John Brooks (Business Adventures: Twelve Classic Tales from the World of Wall Street)
A depachika is like nothing else. It is the endless bounty of a hawker's bazaar, but with Japanese civility. It is Japanese food and foreign food, sweet and savory. The best depachika have more than a hundred specialized stands and cannot be understood on a single visit. I felt as though I had a handle on Life Supermarket the first time I shopped there, but I never felt entirely comfortable in a depachika. They are the food equivalent of Borges's "The Library of Babel": if it's edible, someone is probably selling it, but how do you find it? How do you resist the cakes and spices and Chinese delis and bento boxes you'll pass on the way? At the Isetan depachika, in Shinjuku, French pastry god Pierre Hermé sells his signature cakes and macarons. Not to be outdone, Franco-Japanese pastry god Sadaharu Aoki sells his own nearby. Tokyo is the best place in the world to eat French pastry. The quality and selection are as good as or better than in Paris, and the snootiness factor is zero. I wandered by a collection of things on sticks: yakitori at one stand, kushiage at another. Kushiage are panko-breaded and fried foods on sticks. At any depachika, you can buy kushiage either golden and cooked, or pale and raw to fry at home. Neither option is terribly appetizing: the fried stuff is losing crispness by the second, and who wants to deep-fry in a poorly ventilated Tokyo apartment in the summer? But the overall effect of the display is mesmerizing: look at all the different foods they've put on sticks! Pork, peppers, mushrooms, squash, taro, and two dozen other little cubes.
Matthew Amster-Burton (Pretty Good Number One: An American Family Eats Tokyo)
Gasher's right. You're pert. But you don't want to be pert with me, cully. You don't EVER want to be pert with me. Have you heard of people with short fuses? Well, I have no fuse at all, and there's a thousand could testify to it if I hadn't stilled their tongues for good. If you ever speak to me of Lord Perth again...ever, ever, EVER...I'll tear off the top of your skull and eat your brains. I'll have none of that bad-luck story in the Cradle of the Grays. Do you understand me?" He shook Jake back and forth like a rag, and the boy burst into tears. "Do you?" "Y-Y-Yes!" "Good." He set Jake upon his feet, where he swayed woozily back and forth, wiping at his streaming eyes and leaving smudges of dirt on his cheeks so dark they looked like mascara. "Now, my little cull, we're going to have a question and answer session here. I'll ask the questions and you'll give the answers. Do you understand?" Jake didn't reply. He was looking at a panel of the ventilator grille which circled the chamber. The Tick-Tock Man grabbed his nose between two of his fingers and squeezed it viciously. "Do you understand me?" "Yes!" Jake cried. His eyes, now watering with pain as well as terror, returned to Tick-Tock's face. He wanted to look back at the ventilator grille, wanted desperately to verify that what he had seen there was not simply a trick of his frightened, overloaded mind, but he didn't dare. He was afraid someone else--Tick-Tock himself, most likely--would follow his gaze and see what he had seen. "Good." Tick-Tock pulled Jack back over to the chair by his nose, sat down, and cocked his leg over the arm again. "Let's have a nice little chin, then.
Stephen King (The Waste Lands (The Dark Tower, #3))
OCCUPATIONAL SAFETY I don’t know of people who do everything from going to school, learning different skills and basically develop themselves so that they stay at home. It’s ingrained in every kid that they should study hard and excel so that they can get good jobs and live well. With that said, working is what makes us build nations and fulfill some our dreams so it’s important to ensure that the work environment is kept safe and comfortable for workers so that they can remain productive for the longest time. However as long as we are living there will SWMS always be greedy employers who will take short cuts or fail to protect their employees and this is where OSHA(occupational safety and health administration)comes in to rectify these issues. Occupational safety is ensuring that employees work in danger free environment. There are many industries of different nature and hence the possible hazards vary. For example in the textile and clothing industry, employees deal with dyes, chemicals and machines that spin , knit and weave to ensure production. In some countries there have been cases of sweatshops where people make clothes in poorly ventilated places for long hours. The tools of trade in all industries are still the ones that cause hazards e.g. machines can cut people, chemicals emit poisonous fumes or burn the skin and clothes etc. Its therefore the mandate of employers to ensure work places are safe for workers and incase the industry uses chemicals or equipments that may harm the workers in any way, they should provide protective gear. Employers can also seek the services of occupational safety specialists who can inspect their companies to ensure they adhere to the set health and safety standards. These specialists can also help formulate programs that will prevent hazards and injuries. Workers should report employers to OSHA if they fail to comply. As a worker you now know it’s partly your duty to hold your employer accountable so do not agree to work in a hazardous environment.
Peter Gabriel
What a lovely day again; were it a new-made world, and made for a summer-house to the angels, and this morning the first of its throwing open to them, a fairer day could not dawn upon that world. Here's food for thought, had Ahab time to think; but Ahab never thinks; he only feels, feels, feels; that's tingling enough for mortal man! to think's audacity. God only has that right and privilege. Thinking is, or ought to be, a coolness and a calmness; and our poor hearts throb, and our poor brains beat too much for that. And yet, I've sometimes thought my brain was very calm—frozen calm, this old skull cracks so, like a glass in which the contents turned to ice, and shiver it. And still this hair is growing now; this moment growing, and heat must breed it; but no, it's like that sort of common grass that will grow anywhere, between the earthy clefts of Greenland ice or in Vesuvius lava. How the wild winds blow it; they whip it about me as the torn shreds of split sails lash the tossed ship they cling to. A vile wind that has no doubt blown ere this through prison corridors and cells, and wards of hospitals, and ventilated them, and now comes blowing hither as innocent as fleeces. Out upon it!—it's tainted. Were I the wind, I'd blow no more on such a wicked, miserable world. I'd crawl somewhere to a cave, and slink there. And yet, 'tis a noble and heroic thing, the wind! who ever conquered it? In every fight it has the last and bitterest blow. Run tilting at it, and you but run through it. Ha! a coward wind that strikes stark naked men, but will not stand to receive a single blow. Even Ahab is a braver thing—a nobler thing that that. Would now the wind but had a body; but all the things that most exasperate and outrage mortal man, all these things are bodiless, but only bodiless as objects, not as agents. There's a most special, a most cunning, oh, a most malicious difference! And yet, I say again, and swear it now, that there's something all glorious and gracious in the wind. These warm Trade Winds, at least, that in the clear heavens blow straight on, in strong and steadfast, vigorous mildness; and veer not from their mark, however the baser currents of the sea may turn and tack, and mightiest Mississippies of the land swift and swerve about, uncertain where to go at last. And by the eternal Poles! these same Trades that so directly blow my good ship on; these Trades, or something like them—something so unchangeable, and full as strong, blow my keeled soul along!
Herman Melville (Moby-Dick or, The Whale)
Gray burst into the galley. “Miss Turner is not eating.” The cramped, boxed-in nature of the space, the oppressive heat-it seemed an appropriate place to take this irrational surge of resentment. If only his emotion could dissipate through the ventilation slats as quickly as steam. “And good morning to you, too.” Gabriel wiped his hands on his apron without glancing up. “She’s not eating,” Gray repeated evenly. “She’s wasting away.” He didn’t even realize his knuckled cracked. He flexed his fingers impatiently. “Wasting away?” Gabriel’s face split in a grin as he picked up a mallet and attacked a hunk of salted pork. “Now what makes you say that?” “Her dress no longer fits properly. The neckline of her bodice is too loose.” Gabriel stopped pounding and looked up, meeting Gray’s eyes for the first time since he’d entered the galley. The mocking arch of the old man’s eyebrows had Gray clenching his teeth. They stared at each other for a second. Then Gray blew out his breath and looked away, and Gabriel broke into peals of laughter. “Never thought I’d live to see the day,” the old cook finally said, “when you would complain that a beautiful lady’s bodice was too loose.” “It’s not that she’s a beautiful lady-“ Gabriel looked up sharply. “It’s not merely that she’s a beautiful lady,” Gray amended. “She’s a passenger, and I have a duty to look out for her welfare.” “Wouldn’t that be the captain’s duty?” Gray narrowed his eyes. “And I know my duty well enough,” Gabriel continued. “It’s not as though I’m denying her food, now is it? I’m thinking Miss Turner just isn’t accustomed to the rough living aboard a ship. Used to finer fare, that one.” Gray scowled at the hunk of cured pork under Gabriel’s mallet and the shriveled, sprouted potatoes rolling back and forth with each tilt of the ship. “Is this the noon meal?” “This, and biscuit.” “I’ll order the men to trawl for a fish.” “Wouldn’t that be the captain’s duty?” Gabriel’s tone was sly. Gray wasn’t sure whether the plume of steam swirling through the galley originated for the stove or his ears. He didn’t care for Gabriel’s flippant tone. Neither did he care for the possibility of Miss Turner’s lush curves disappearing when he’d never had any chance to appreciate them. Frustrated beyond all reason, Gray turned to leave, wrenching open the galley door with such force, the hinges creaked in protest. He took a deep breath to compose himself, resolving not to slam the door shut behind him. Gabriel stopped pounding. “Sit down, Gray. Rest your bones.” With another rough sigh, Gray complied. He backed up two paces, slung himself onto a stool, and watched as the cook grabbed a tin cup from a hook on the wall and filled it, drawing a dipper of liquid from a small leather bucket. Then Gabriel set the cup on the table before him. Milk. Gabriel stared it. “For God’s sake, Gabriel. I’m not six years old anymore.” The old man raised his eyebrows. “Well, seeing as how you haven’t outgrown a visit to the kitchen when you’re in a sulk, I thought maybe you’d have a taste for milk yet, too. You did buy the goats.
Tessa Dare (Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy, #2))
Mom orders a coffee that she’ll stretch to last days by refilling it with creamers. Jessica, Alex, and I take handfuls of creamers and sugar packets, which we mix and eat for a meal. We’ve just received food stamps that we could use to buy food, but that’ll never be enough. This is a regular part of how and what we eat. Taking up two brown faux-leather booths, we each spread out on a bench for the night. It’s not as soft as the car, but stretching my legs feels good, and I sleep well under the fluorescent lights and the hum of the ventilation
David Ambroz (A Place Called Home)
Fifteen years ago, Israeli scientists published a study in which engineers observed patient care in ICUs for twenty-four-hour stretches. They found that the average patient required 178 individual actions per day, ranging from administering a drug to suctioning the lungs, and every one of them posed risks. Remarkably, the nurses and doctors were observed to make an error in just 1 percent of these actions—but that still amounted to an average of two errors a day with every patient. Intensive care succeeds only when we hold the odds of doing harm low enough for the odds of doing good to prevail. This is hard. There are dangers simply in lying unconscious in bed for a few days. Muscles atrophy. Bones lose mass. Pressure ulcers form. Veins begin to clot. You have to stretch and exercise patients’ flaccid limbs daily to avoid contractures; you have to give subcutaneous injections of blood thinners at least twice a day, turn patients in bed every few hours, bathe them and change their sheets without knocking out a tube or a line, brush their teeth twice a day to avoid pneumonia from bacterial buildup in their mouths. Add a ventilator, dialysis, and the care of open wounds, and the difficulties only accumulate.
Atul Gawande (The Checklist Manifesto: How to Get Things Right)
At night,” he said, raising a finger, “I hang strands of garlic on her to dry.” “Why not in the cellar?” asked Tudor stupidly. “The air’s stagnant down there. Up here there’s some air,” Vasily explained. “The body spins around in the breeze, and that’s good, because garlic needs ventilation.
Vladimir Lorchenkov (The Good Life Elsewhere)
Primer of Love [Lesson 58] Love is the fart Of every heart: It pains a man when 'tis kept close, And others doth offend, when 'tis let loose. ~ John Suckling, 'Love's Offence' Lesson 58) What guarantees the value of the relationship's estate? Ventilation, Ventilation, Ventilation. A good relationship is well regulated like a thermostatically controlled HVAC system. It cools you off when things get hot headed. It warms you up when there's a cold front building between you. Most importantly, it ventilates when the stink of decay permeates the air. That's you're signal to take a long walk in the fresh air.
Beryl Dov
Finally, on Wednesday, they began to lower the sedation again, and immediately he reached for the ventilator tube and tried to pull it out. “Don’t fight it,” I told him again and again, trying to explain what was happening. I held his hand. The nurse came in and told me they were going to try to take the ventilator out. “Do you want me to stay, or leave you?” I asked him. His eyes were closed, but he put his hand out and rubbed my back. Just for a moment. He’s there! I wanted to shout. Everything’s going to be okay. The antibiotics must be working! I wanted to sing and shout and dance. After the ventilator was out, he began opening his eyes just a crack when someone came in to say hello. And things got even better--he was calm although he was still tied down, and when a friend and Willie came in to say hello, Jep said, “What’s up?” I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Those were the first words I’d heard him say since he’d gone deer hunting. I questioned him a little, wanting to know what he remembered, but he couldn’t talk much and still seemed very sleepy, dozing off every few minutes. Thursday morning was one of the best days of my life because Jep woke up bright-eyed. “Why am I in here? What happened?” he asked. He didn’t remember anything. He looked awake and alert and rested. But I was exhausted, having gotten very little sleep or food and not knowing if Jep would live or die, while he’d been taking the longest nap of his life. We held hands, and though I was exhausted, I was happy. Thursday afternoon he talked a little more and ate a cracker. He was back. Slowly but surely, he was coming back. He knew who I was, so I believed he would know who the kids were. And he started talking more and more. Thank you, Lord, for bringing Jep back to me.
Jessica Robertson (The Good, the Bad, and the Grace of God: What Honesty and Pain Taught Us About Faith, Family, and Forgiveness)
Mom orders a coffee that she’ll stretch to last days by refilling it with creamers. Jessica, Alex, and I take handfuls of creamers and sugar packets, which we mix and eat for a meal. We’ve just received food stamps that we could use to buy food, but that’ll never be enough. This is a regular part of how and what we eat. Taking up two brown faux-leather booths, we each spread out on a bench for the night. It’s not as soft as the car, but stretching my legs feels good, and I sleep well under the fluorescent lights and the hum of the ventilation.
David Ambroz (A Place Called Home)
Third Party Manufacturing Pharma Company In Ahmedabad Saphnix Lifesciences is the best Third Party Manufacturing Pharma Company In Ahmedabad. With numerous ongoing manufacturing projects, we have certainly done our best to comply with our customers' demands. We plan to expand our horizons and look beyond what we have accomplished so far. Be it Third party Manufacturing or Offering Franchise, we have succeeded in each project. In our case, as a self-owned organization, we have access to a fully equipped technology system. In a secure warehouse with hygienic packaging, finished goods are stored. The manufacturers of houses design them following their temperature, humidity, and ventilation requirements. It is divided into sections for filter washing, drying, and storage. So what are you waiting for? Saphnix is only one call away!
Saphnix Lifesciences
Details Warmth and responsiveness are provided by the midsole substance. Shock absorption and stability are provided by these sports shoes for women. Super-soft, breezy knit fabric and synthetic. The top design is comfortable, lightweight, and highly ventilated. The sole is made to provide quick traction and a good sense of the terrain. Strength and stability are provided by a parametric midsole.
ActivefitnessStore
The Great Stink (or How a Crisis Can Kickstart Radical Planning) Picture London in the 1850s. In fact, don’t picture it—smell it. Since medieval times, the city’s human waste had been deposited in cesspools—stinking holes in the ground full of rotting sludge, often in the basements of houses—or flushed directly into the River Thames. While thousands of cesspools had been removed since the 1830s, the Thames itself remained a giant cesspool that also happened to be the city’s main source of drinking water: Londoners were drinking their own raw sewage. The result was mass outbreaks of cholera, with over 14,000 people dying in 1848 and a further 10,000 in 1854.20 And yet city authorities did almost nothing to resolve this ongoing public health disaster. They were hampered not just by a lack of funds and the prevalent belief that cholera was spread through the air rather than through water, but also by the pressure of private water companies who insisted that the drinking water they pumped from the river was wonderfully pure. The crisis came to a head in the stiflingly hot summer of 1858. That year had already seen three cholera outbreaks, and now the lack of rainfall had exposed sewage deposits six feet deep on the sloping banks of the Thames. The putrid fumes spread throughout the city. But it wasn’t just the laboring poor who had to bear it: The smell also wafted straight from the river into the recently rebuilt Houses of Parliament and the new ventilation system conspired to pump the rank odor throughout the building. The smell was so vile that debates in the Commons and Lords had to be abandoned, and parliamentarians fled from the committee rooms with cloths over their faces. What became known as the “Great Stink” was finally enough to prompt the government to act.
Roman Krznaric (The Good Ancestor: A Radical Prescription for Long-Term Thinking)
Step 4: Write letters to the parent, sibling, or peer who helped cause your lifetrap It is important to ventilate your anger and sadness about what happened to you. One thing that keeps your inner child frozen is all your strangled feelings. We want you to give your inner child a voice – to allow your inner child to express his or her pain. We will ask you to write letters to all the people who hurt you. We realize you will probably have to overcome a lot of guilt to do this, particularly in regard to your parents. It is not easy to attack your parents. They may not have been malicious. They may have had good intentions. But we want you to put aside such considerations for a time, and just tell the truth. Express your feelings in the letter. Tell them what they did that was hurtful, and how it made you feel. Tell them they were wrong to behave as they did. Tell them how you wished it could have been instead. You will probably decide not to send the letter. It is the writing and expressing of your feelings that is most important. It is often not possible to change the feelings or behaviour of your parents, anyway. You should know this from the start. The purpose of the letter is not to change your parents. It is to make you a whole person again. A letter like this can set the record straight. It can tell your story aloud, perhaps for the first time.
Jeffrey Young (Reinventing Your Life: The Breakthrough Program to End Negative Behavior...and Feel Great Again)
Spending one’s final days in an ICU because of terminal illness is for most people a kind of failure. You lie attached to a ventilator, your every organ shutting down, your mind teetering on delirium and permanently beyond realizing that you will never leave this borrowed, fluorescent place. The end comes with no chance for you to have said good-bye or “It’s okay” or “I’m sorry” or “I love you.” People with serious illness have priorities besides simply prolonging their lives. Surveys find that their top concerns include avoiding suffering, strengthening relationships with family and friends, being mentally aware, not being a burden on others, and achieving a sense that their life is complete.
Atul Gawande (Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End)
How to protect yourself and others from COVID-19? According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), “The best way to prevent illness is to avoid being exposed to this virus.” As the vaccines continue their roll out. And follow advices to the world health orgranization (WHO), "Stay aware of the latest COVID-19 information by regularly checking updates from WHO and your national and local public health authorities." What to do to keep yourself and others safe from COVID-19 by WHO 1. Maintain at least a 1-metre distance between yourself and others to reduce your risk of infection when they cough, sneeze or speak. 2. Maintain an even greater distance between yourself and others when indoors. The further away, the better. 3. Make wearing a mask a normal part of being around other people. How to protect yourself and others from COVID-19 by WHO If COVID-19 is spreading in your community, stay safe by taking some simple precautions, such as physical distancing, wearing a mask, keeping rooms well ventilated, avoiding crowds, cleaning your hands, and coughing into a bent elbow or tissue. Check local advice where you live and work. Do it all! A. Wash your hands by CDC Practicing good hygiene is an important habit that helps prevent the spread of COVID-19. Make these CDC recommendations part of your routine: Wash your hands often with soap and water for at least 20 seconds, especially after you have been in a public place, or after blowing your nose, coughing, or sneezing. Read more on my website
Letusmakeyourich
Root Chakra Gemstones •       With the utmost care and devotion, BLACK TOURMALINE guards its keeper and her property. It is the mineral-kingdom's most protective stone. Place four pieces at your home or property's four corners to protect your home and land, and keep one piece in your car to prevent theft. •       JET is a wood component which is decayed under high pressure and deoxygenated. Though light in weight, when it comes to defense, jet packs a heavy punch, eliminating curses or hexes, and extracting dark magic that originates from past ages or lifetimes. Our ancestors claimed that holding a piece of jet, including the Plague, would help protect them from illness. •       ONYX helps empathy by absorbing and transmuting low vibrations in people or places as a working tool. Having the bearer physically powerful and formidable, and gaining good luck and a great harvest, is believed. •       RED AVENTURINE purifies and detoxifies energy frequencies to help clear the trauma stored, promoting a deeper connection with energy source. It helps to promote strong body ventilation, remove accumulated toxins, and increase blood flow. •       RED JASPER is a battle-stone of resilience and reminds the carrier of her personal strength and ability to overcome challenges. Native Americans claimed red jasper would reinforce warriors going into combat. The red color, because of the protective properties of the stone, reflected the blood they would not have spilled.
Adrian Satyam (Energy Healing: 6 in 1: Medicine for Body, Mind and Spirit. An extraordinary guide to Chakra and Quantum Healing, Kundalini and Third Eye Awakening, Reiki and Meditation and Mindfulness.)
The onlookers' rudeness irked Lavender. How quickly their veneer of courtesy fell away. Beholding the man, they acted as if they viewed an exhibit in some monstrous hall of wonders. Terrible as the ruined side of his face was to look upon, balancing it, the good half was nothing short of godlike. He stopped in front of her floral cart. As if swished away by some invisible magician's wand, the gawking masses faded, leaving only quietude---a radical privacy---as though a glass dome ventilated with fresh oxygen closed over the two of them, and they alone existed in the world. "Your flowers steal my breath away," he said. He wished to make a purchase. "How many bouquets or tussie-mussies, Sir?" "All of them," the man said, then pointed to the sachet that had, earlier, toppled into the dirt. "What is this?" "A scent-filled sachet." "Sewn with your own hands, I presume?" the man asked. She nodded. "What fills it?" "Achillea millefolium. Yarrow. It heals. Protects. It's also known as a love charm." "Heals, you say?" The man sighed. "If only it could." Then he inquired the cost---of everything. Normally, Lavender ciphered like the wind, but a tallying void struck. She told him... a number... some totted up, air-castle sum bolted from her mouth. He paid her. The sum almost overflowed her hands. She transferred the bounty into her coin purse. "I worship at your cart," the man declared. "And tomorrow, with even the slightest sliver of serendipity, you shall hear Mr. Whitman's divine words.
Jeanette Lynes (The Apothecary's Garden)
I pictured in detail my bodily decomposition. What would go first? Would I stay fresh longer if I left the air conditioning on high? How long before the smell seeped into the apartment hallway, or through ventilation shafts into other apartments? My poor neighbors. I should send them flowers. I had an overwhelming desire to turn in my body and donate it wholesale. "I have so many organs!" I'd declare to anyone who'd listen, mutter to myself several times a day. This is just weird enough to sound like a sick joke to another human being but for me it never was: I was gobsmacked by my own wasteful monopoly on body parts. Dozens of people die every day awaiting organs, and here I was hogging so many of them—perfectly good pancreas, lungs, liver, kidneys that could save the lives of people who could then go on to win Nobel Prizes or solve refugee crises. That aspiration ran so deep, I felt cheated to discover you can only donate organs inf you die while stabilized, on a ventilator—not if you're dead on arrival at a hospital. (If that fact doesn't sound devastating to you, you clearly don't dream up suicides designed so that no one will find you for at least thirty hours.)
Anna Mehler Paperny (Hello I Want to Die Please Fix Me: Depression in the First Person)