Lookout Point Quotes

There’s no point in acting surprised about it. All the planning charts and demolition orders have been on display at your local planning department in Alpha Centauri for 50 of your Earth years, so you’ve had plenty of time to lodge any formal complaint and it’s far too late to start making a fuss about it now. … What do you mean you’ve never been to Alpha Centauri? Oh, for heaven’s sake, mankind, it’s only four light years away, you know. I’m sorry, but if you can’t be bothered to take an interest in local affairs, that’s your own lookout. Energize the demolition beams.

Wet, wet, the interior of the island, they said, bog and marsh, rivers and chains of ponds alive with metal-throated birds. The ships scraped on around the points. And the lookout saw shapes of caribou folding into fog.

Soldier on guard says they've identified “someone on two legs a hundred metres from the outpost”. The other soldier, in the lookout, says “A girl about ten,” but by then they're already shooting. Girl's dead[...]The point is this use of code, on two legs, denoting human. It reminded me of that speech by their Prime Minister saying that we were beasts walking on two legs [...]The idea that having legs makes you human. I thought of adding a Primo Levi-ish dimension to it. Merging this two-legged idea with a sort of general question about what is a man, you know, linking it to “if this is a man who labours in the mud/ who knows no peace/ who fights for a crust of bread?” [...] my thesis being that the occupation, the closures, the siege have made amputees of all of us, crawling around in the mud. Legless in Gaza. The lot of us.

When the mariner, sailing over tropic seas, looks for relief from his weary watch, he turns his eyes toward the southern cross, burning luridly above the tempest-vexed ocean. As the midnight approaches, the southern cross begins to bend, the whirling worlds change their places, and with starry finger-points the Almighty marks the passage of time upon the dial of the universe, and though no bell may beat the glad tidings, the lookout knows that the midnight is passing and that relief and rest are close at hand. Let the people everywhere take heart of hope, for the cross is bending, the midnight is passing, and joy cometh with the morning.

But in other points, as well as this, I was growing very lenient to my master: I was forgetting all his faults, for which I had once kept a sharp look-out. It had formerly been my endeavour to study all sides of his character: to take the bad with the good; and from the just weighing of both, to form an equitable judgment. Now I saw no bad. The sarcasm that had repelled, the harshness that had startled me once, were only like keen condiments in a choice dish: their presence was pungent, but their absence would be felt as comparatively insipid.

Crossover' is a word scientists use to describe dolphins' soaring over seas, their traveling so free and fast, so high-spirited and almost effervescent that their sleek bodies barely skim the waves. The suggestion of splashes from tail and pectoral leaves a luminous wake across the water. For these crossover miles, the dolphins, like their human terrestrial mammal kin, belong more to the element of air than the sea.... Held in [the dolphins'] fluid embrace, I pulled my arms close against my sides and our communal speed increased... Racing around the lagoon, I opened my eyes again to see nothing but an emerald underwater blur. And then I remembered what I had either forgotten long ago or never quite fully realized. This feeling of being carried along by other animals was familiar. Animals had carried me all my life. I was a crossover--carried along in the generous and instructive slipstream of other species. And I had always navigated my life with them in mind, going between the human and animal worlds--a crossover myself. By including animals in my life I was always engaging with the Other, imagining the animal mind and life. For almost half a century, my bond with animals had shaped my character and revealed the world to me. At every turning point in my life an animal had mirrored or influenced my fate. Mine was not simply a life with other animals, but a life because of animals. It had been this way since my beginning, born on a forest lookout station in the High Sierras, surrounded by millions of acres of wilderness and many more animals than humans. Since infancy, the first faces I imprinted, the first faces I ever really loved, were animal.

It was at night,” I say. “What was?” “What happened. The car wreck. We were driving along the Storm King Highway.” “Where’s that?” “Oh, it’s one of the most scenic drives in the whole state,” I say, somewhat sarcastically. “Route 218. The road that connects West Point and Cornwall up in the Highlands on the west side of the Hudson River. It’s narrow and curvy and hangs off the cliffs on the side of Storm King Mountain. An extremely twisty two-lane road. With a lookout point and a picturesque stone wall to stop you from tumbling off into the river. Motorcycle guys love Route 218.” We stop moving forward and pause under a streetlamp. “But if you ask me, they shouldn’t let trucks use that road.” Cool Girl looks at me. “Go on, Jamie,” she says gently. And so I do. “Like I said, it was night. And it was raining. We’d gone to West Point to take the tour, have a picnic. It was a beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky until the tour was over, and then it started pouring. Guess we stayed too late. Me, my mom, my dad.” Now I bite back the tears. “My little sister. Jenny. You would’ve liked Jenny. She was always happy. Always laughing. “We were on a curve. All of a sudden, this truck comes around the side of the cliff. It’s halfway in our lane and fishtailing on account of the slick road. My dad slams on the brakes. Swerves right. We smash into a stone fence and bounce off it like we’re playing wall ball. The hood of our car slides under the truck, right in front of its rear tires—tires that are smoking and screaming and trying to stop spinning.” I see it all again. In slow motion. The detail never goes away. “They all died,” I finally say. “My mother, my father, my little sister. I was the lucky one. I was the only one who survived.

The Agreeable vs. the Disagreeable Anxious Person Earlier I mentioned people being agreeable or disagreeable. Being generally agreeable or disagreeable has been identified as one of the fundamental dimensions of personality. Just like anyone else, anxious people can be either agreeable or disagreeable. It pays to know which you are. People who are agreeable tend to prioritize getting along with others. They may not be willing to make waves when they can see problems with other people’s ideas or plans. In contrast, people who are naturally disagreeable may underestimate the importance of getting along with others and not invest enough in relationship building. Once you recognize whatever tendencies you have, you can keep them in mind and modify your responses as you see fit. For example, if you’re anxious and disagreeable, you may say no more than you should. After all, your nature has you on the lookout for things that could go wrong.

I turn my body from the sun. What ho, Tashtego! Let me hear thy hammer. Oh! ye three unsurrendered spires of mine; thou uncracked keel; and only god-bullied hull; thou firm deck, and haughty helm, and Pole-pointed prow, - death-glorious ship! must ye then perish, and without me? Am I cut off from the last fond pride of meanest shipwrecked captains? Oh, lonely death on lonely life! Oh, now I feel my topmost greatness lies in my topmost grief. Ho, ho! from all your furthest bounds, pour ye now in, ye bold billows of my whole foregone life, and top this one piled comber of my death! Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; to the last I grapple with thee; from hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee. Sink all coffins and all hearses to one common pool! and since neither can be mine, let me then tow to pieces, while still chasing thee, though tied to thee, thou damned whale! Thus, I give up the spear!" The harpoon was darted; the stricken whale flew forward; with igniting velocity the line ran through the groove; - ran foul. Ahab stooped to clear it; he did clear it; but the flying turn caught him round the neck, and voicelessly as Turkish mutes bowstring their victim, he was shot out of the boat, ere the crew knew he was gone. Next instant, the heavy eye-splice in the rope's final end flew out of the stark-empty tub, knocked down an oarsman, and smiting the sea, disappeared in its depths. For an instant, the tranced boat's crew stood still; then turned. "The ship? Great God, where is the ship?" Soon they through dim, bewildering mediums saw her sidelong fading phantom, as in the gaseous Fata Morgana; only the uppermost masts out of water; while fixed by infatuation, or fidelity, or fate, to their once lofty perches, the pagan harpooneers still maintained their sinking lookouts on the sea. And now, concentric circles seized the lone boat itself, and all its crew, and each floating oar, and every lance-pole, and spinning, animate and inanimate, all round and round in one vortex, carried the smallest chip of the Pequod out of sight. But as the last whelmings intermixingly poured themselves over the sunken head of the Indian at the mainmast, leaving a few inches of the erect spar yet visible, together with long streaming yards of the flag, which calmly undulated, with ironical coincidings, over the destroying billows they almost touched; - at that instant, a red arm and a hammer hovered backwardly uplifted in the open air, in the act of nailing the flag faster and yet faster to the subsiding spar. A sky-hawk that tauntingly had followed the main-truck downwards from its natural home among the stars, pecking at the flag, and incommoding Tashtego there; this bird now chanced to intercept its broad fluttering wing between the hammer and the wood; and simultaneously feeling that etherial thrill, the submerged savage beneath, in his death-gasp, kept his hammer frozen there; and so the bird of heaven, with archangelic shrieks, and his imperial beak thrust upwards, and his whole captive form folded in the flag of Ahab, went down with his ship, which, like Satan, would not sink to hell till she had dragged a living part of heaven along with her, and helmeted herself with it. Now small fowls flew screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a sullen white surf beat against its steep sides; then all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago.

Through the breach, they heard the waters pour, as mountain torrents down a flume. "The ship! The hearse!--the second hearse!" cried Ahab from the boat; "its wood could only be American!" Diving beneath the settling ship, the whale ran quivering along its keel; but turning under water, swiftly shot to the surface again, far off the other bow, but within a few yards of Ahab's boat, where, for a time, he lay quiescent. "I turn my body from the sun. What ho, Tashtego! let me hear thy hammer. Oh! ye three unsurrendered spires of mine; thou uncracked keel; and only god-bullied hull; thou firm deck, and haughty helm, and Pole-pointed prow,--death-glorious ship! must ye then perish, and without me? Am I cut off from the last fond pride of meanest shipwrecked captains? Oh, lonely death on lonely life! Oh, now I feel my topmost greatness lies in my topmost grief. Ho, ho! from all your furthest bounds, pour ye now in, ye bold billows of my whole foregone life, and top this one piled comber of my death! Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; to the last I grapple with thee; from hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee. Sink all coffins and all hearses to one common pool! and since neither can be mine, let me then tow to pieces, while still chasing thee, though tied to thee, thou damned whale! THUS, I give up the spear!" The harpoon was darted; the stricken whale flew forward; with igniting velocity the line ran through the grooves;--ran foul. Ahab stooped to clear it; he did clear it; but the flying turn caught him round the neck, and voicelessly as Turkish mutes bowstring their victim, he was shot out of the boat, ere the crew knew he was gone. Next instant, the heavy eye-splice in the rope's final end flew out of the stark-empty tub, knocked down an oarsman, and smiting the sea, disappeared in its depths. For an instant, the tranced boat's crew stood still; then turned. "The ship? Great God, where is the ship?" Soon they through dim, bewildering mediums saw her sidelong fading phantom, as in the gaseous Fata Morgana; only the uppermost masts out of water; while fixed by infatuation, or fidelity, or fate, to their once lofty perches, the pagan harpooneers still maintained their sinking lookouts on the sea. And now, concentric circles seized the lone boat itself, and all its crew, and each floating oar, and every lance-pole, and spinning, animate and inanimate, all round and round in one vortex, carried the smallest chip of the Pequod out of sight. But as the last whelmings intermixingly poured themselves over the sunken head of the Indian at the mainmast, leaving a few inches of the erect spar yet visible, together with long streaming yards of the flag, which calmly undulated, with ironical coincidings, over the destroying billows they almost touched;--at that instant, a red arm and a hammer hovered backwardly uplifted in the open air, in the act of nailing the flag faster and yet faster to the subsiding spar. A sky-hawk that tauntingly had followed the main-truck downwards from its natural home among the stars, pecking at the flag, and incommoding Tashtego there; this bird now chanced to intercept its broad fluttering wing between the hammer and the wood; and simultaneously feeling that etherial thrill, the submerged savage beneath, in his death-gasp, kept his hammer frozen there; and so the bird of heaven, with archangelic shrieks, and his imperial beak thrust upwards, and his whole captive form folded in the flag of Ahab, went down with his ship, which, like Satan, would not sink to hell till she had dragged a living part of heaven along with her, and helmeted herself with it. Now small fowls flew screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a sullen white surf beat against its steep sides; then all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago.

By midday the Xanti were usually asleep again in their hammocks or under the trees, and Maia and Finn would wander off to a cool part of the riverbank, keeping a wary lookout for Miss Minton, who might suddenly decide they should do some mental arithmetic or Latin verbs. “You know I told you what my father said you had to do--‘seize the day,’” said Maia. “Well, it seems to me there’s no point in doing that here. You don’t have to seize it. They give you the day.

During the first century ravens or crows were often taken on board “Viking Knarr’s,” to be released thinking that they would fly in the direction of land. The lookout would observe the direction the birds flew in, so that the navigator could follow their course. Since the crow's nest is high from the vessel’s center of gravity it is subject to violent motion in relatively calm or moderate seas. Any amount of movement of the ship is amplified, causing even seasoned sailors to become sea-sick. Therefore, being sent to the crow's nest was certainly not for everyone. More recently but still prior to the advent of radar, when the visibility from the bridge of the ship was inhibited by fog, heavy seas or limited night vision lookouts were posted on the bow or high on a mast, above the low lying sea fog. By tradition the protected structure fitted to the foremast high above the deck was named the crow’s nest in deference to the earlier Viking traditions. During the 19th century this vantage point was simply made out of a barrel lashed to the highest mast that allowed the lookout to look ahead for land, other ships, flotsam or other obstructions. In later years the crow’s nest was sometimes enclosed and even electrically heated. As a young midshipman I was assigned to the bow as lookout. Peering into the dark of night I suddenly saw a bright light on the horizon. Sighting this light was a thrill and an experience that validated my usefulness! Excited with my find and without a moment’s hesitation I hurried back to where I was within shouting distance from the ships bridge and loudly announced the light as being 2 points on the starboard bow. Proud of my announced discovery, I returned to my station at the bow only to discover that what I had reported was now obviously the tip of a Sickle Moon rising in the east. At the time everyone had a good laugh but I was told that I did the right thing. It took a while but eventually I lived it down and now it makes for a good “Sea Story!”!

I should have been on the lookout for signs of common ground between people. When I took the time to set that more positive intention for subsequent team meetings, I also decided on two specific behavioral goals to support it. One was to make sure that I said something to appreciate each person’s contributions at some point during the meeting. The other was to point out whenever someone’s ideas nicely connected to something another person had previously said.

Tish is no longer in hiding, on constant lookout for danger up ahead. The worst came, and she survived. She is a little girl who no longer has to avoid the fires of life, because she has learned that she is fireproof. Only people who stand in the fire can know that. That is the one thing I need my children to know about themselves: Nothing will destroy them. So I do not want to protect them from life’s fires; I want to point them toward the fire and say, “I see your fear, and it’s big. I also see your courage, and it’s bigger. We can do hard things, baby. We are fireproof.

The Most Popular Diamond Cuts - Learn Before You Shop For A Diamond Earring You have finally made up your mind and decided to buy a diamond earring. You have a purpose and occasion in mind. What now? Do you randomly go diamond shopping and invest your hard-earned money in whatever you find there? No. Absolutely not. Mining about the details for the diamond you are seeking for your earring is the wisest of decisions. Whether it is about the best place to buy diamonds from or the cut of your earring, some research is a must! But, research? It takes the fun out of the shopping experience, doesn't it? No worries. Keep the fun with diamonds shopping and look at this list of most popular diamond cuts. Popular Diamond Cuts That You Must Know About A timeless accessory becomes even more precious if you find it exactly how you imagined it to be. The dreamy earrings are not just about having diamonds in them. The cut quality and the cut shape are essential features too! If you already know the best place to buy diamonds, your quality concern goes out of the window. You still have to choose the cut shape for your personal, exotic experience. Before choosing the cut, you need to keep your face in mind too. If the diamond cut doesn't flatter your face, take the next option. Essentially, you can choose from the four variants of the diamond cuts. Round Cut: Widely in demand and spectacularly sparkly, the round cut allows the maximum light to enter and dazzle the diamond. Primarily used in studs, these cuts are good for you if you have a thin face. Oval Cuts: The cut includes the oval-shaped and modified version of oval cuts as well. If you want the appearance of an elongated diamond with the shine as the round cut, consider this one. This cut comes with a variety of options for you. If you like it pointy at both ends, the marquise cut is the one for you. But, if you have your heart set on a sharp end and the other in the oval shape, you'd love the pear cut more. Besides, if you are a romantic, you have to choose the heart-shaped diamond cut for your earrings. Rectangular Cuts: You want a cut that is equally classic and elegant; the rectangular cuts are your options. It includes the Princess cut, the Emerald cut, the Asscher cut, the Cushion cut, and the Radiant cut. You can choose the best fit based on the rectangular appearance and brilliance of your outlook. Triangular Cuts: Are you a fan of pointed edges and equal sides in your jewelry? You will be thrilled to have a triangular cut diamond in your accessory bag. All you have to look out for is the protection the edges have in the earring. Remember: Be on the lookout for the 4Cs you need in your earrings. The carat or the weight and the cut define the shape and size of your precious. The color and the clarity will take care of the hue and brilliance you will get. The pleasing appearance of the earrings is a reflection of the diamond cutting and polishing process. The more precisely and skillfully a diamond-cut polish is taken care of, the more beauty it will exude. If you want a breezy diamond shopping experience, what's better than having it from the best place to shop diamonds from? The quality and the cut are going to make you the talk of the town after this! Your choice for the most suitable diamond cut will make your earring the most prized possession. It will not only bring beauty to your appearance but also complement it.

your cat to explore. It should be convenient for you to access, too, and away from lots of traffic so the cat has a private place to retreat. Leave the top portion of the carrier open or take it off completely, and let him sniff it inside and out. Consider some “second story” locations, so that your kitten has the added allure of an elevated lookout. Take a cue from your cat’s current favorite hangouts, and offer a location he already loves. Many cats love warm sunny spots, so a window view could be a great location. Don’t make a big deal of it. Make It A Happy Place. Place a snuggly kitty blanket inside, or even a fuzzy shirt that YOU have worn. That associates the carrier with your familiar and trusted scent. Adding a spritz of a feline facial pheromone product like Feliway also may help. Add A Toy or Game. Toss a toy inside to create positive experiences with the crate. Ping Pong balls are great fun inside the hard crates. Offer a catnip toy to make points with reluctant cats. Lure your kitten inside with a chase-the-red-dot laser game, or flick a feather toy in and out and let him catch it, once he’s inside. Reserve his favorite toy to use only near or inside

We somehow summon up the courage and the strength to carry on, and through many deaths while alive we accumulate wisdom and strength, it is through struggles that we reach a point of understanding others and the connection to empathy that gives us a greater understanding towards others,

The Modus Operandi of THE REGULUS CONCLAVE as spelled out in 1853! “We hold such and such opinions upon one point only; and that one point is, mutual interest, and under that; 1st, that we can govern this nation; 2d, that to govern it, we must, subvert its institutions; and, 3d, subvert them we will! It is our interest; this is our only bond. Capital must have expansion. This hybrid republicanism saps the power of our great agent by its obstinate competition. We must demoralize the republic. We must make public virtue a by-word and a mockery, and private infamy to be honor. Beginning with the people, through our agents, we shall corrupt the State. “We must pamper superstition, and pension energetic fanaticism—as on ’Change we degrade commercial honor, and make success the idol. We may fairly and reasonably calculate, that within a succeeding generation, even our theoretical schemes of republican subversion may be accomplished, and upon its ruins be erected that noble Oligarchy of caste and wealth for which we all conspire, as affording the only true protection to capital. “Beside these general views, we may in a thousand other ways apply our combined capital to immediate advantage. We may buy up, through our agents, claims upon litigated estates, upon confiscated bonds, mortgages upon embarrassed property, land-claims, Government contracts, that have fallen into weak hands, and all those floating operations, constantly within hail, in which ready-money is eagerly grasped as the equivalent for enormous prospective gains. “In addition, through our monopoly of the manufacturing interest, by a rigorous and impartial system of discipline, we shall soon be able to fill the masses of operators and producers with such distrust of each other, and fear of us, as to disintegrate their radical combinations, and bring them to our feet. Governing on ’Change, we rule in politics; governing in politics, we are the despots in trade; ruling in trade, we subjugate production; production conquered, we domineer over labor. This is the common-sense view of our interests—of the interests of capital, which we represent. In the promotion of this object, we appoint and pension our secret agents, who are everywhere on the lookout for our interests. We arrange correspondence, in cipher, throughout the civilized world; we pension our editors and our reporters; we bribe our legislators, and, last of all, we establish and pay our secret police, local, and travelling, whose business it is, not alone to report to us the conduct of agents already employed, but to find and report to us others, who may be useful in such capacity. “We punish treachery by death!” (from YIEGER'S CABINET or SPIRITUAL VAMPIRISM, published 1853)

Making ourselves feel solid, permanent, separate, continuous and defined – by constantly scanning the phenomenal horizon for reference points which substantiate these criteria – is a convoluted process. The phenomena of our perception will only serve us temporarily in this capacity. So if we take this course, we sentence ourselves to the continuous activity of establishing and replacing reference points. When we engage in this process, we convert our perceptual circumstances into a prison. In fact, our perceptual circumstances not only become an incarceration, but a very subtle personal torture chamber. We need to be continually on the look-out for new reference points. We need to reassess old reference points. We need to imbue ourselves with a certain pervasive nervousness. We need to foster a sense of unease about the whole process of experiencing existence. It could become unrelenting hard work in our own personal forced labour camp. In our attempts to establish reference points we react to the phenomena of our perception in three ways. We are either attracted, we are averse or we are indifferent. Attraction, aversion and indifference are usually referred to, in the translations of Buddhist texts, as lust (desire or attachment); hatred (anger or aggression); and ignorance. Although these words have a distinct application to the three distorted tendencies (usually referred to as ‘the Three Poisons’), they have connotations in English that lend them the tone of ‘the Seven Deadly Sins’. If we encounter anything that seems to substantiate our fictions of solidity, permanence, separateness, continuity, and definition – we are attracted, we reach out for it. If we encounter anything that threatens these fictions – we are averse, we push it away. If we encounter anything that neither substantiates nor threatens these fictions – we are indifferent. What we cannot manipulate, we ignore. But what is left of our responses if these three fictions dissolve? The question of what our experience would be like without attraction, aversion, and indifference poses an interesting challenge to our rationale. In fact, we cannot approach this question at all, if we approach it through conventional reasoning. Fundamentally this question deals with the nature of experience itself. If attraction, aversion, and indifference dissolve, what remains is not any ‘kind of experience’; it is simply experience – experience as such. In terms of experience as such; we are completely present, open, and free in the experience of whatever arises as a perception. Dechen, Khandro; Chogyam, Ngakpa (2014-01-14). Spectrum of Ecstasy: Embracing the Five Wisdom Emotions of Vajrayana Buddhism (p. 45). Shambhala Publications. Kindle Edition.

give you props for that. I never liked how the state let this place fall apart. I’m glad you’re refurbishing it.” “Thanks, I guess,” I said, my internal danger alarm sounding. Why would Hemlock Cove’s police chief visit me on official business? “What’s going on?” “Well, we’ve had reports of local teenagers raising a ruckus out here,” Chief Terry said. “I want you to be on the lookout in case they try to break into the lighthouse or vandalize any of the construction.” “I’ve been living out here,” I pointed out. “I think I would’ve heard something like that.” “We’ve gotten four different reports from neighbors,” Chief Terry supplied. “I think the kids are partying out here from the sounds of it, but Lionel Strong claims that they’re out here sacrificing chickens,

When Vanity caught Stack staring toward them, she smiled. “I really think you guys should let us use the locker room. I’m perspiring. Cherry’s perspiring.” Cherry went still, then looked down at herself and blushed. Sweat dampened the front of her tank top, especially between and beneath her big boobs. Denver scowled, giving Stack a shove. Which in turn knocked him into Armie. None of them spoke. Cannon took up the torch. “It’s only set up for men.” “We don’t need the urinals,” Vanity said. “Just the showers.” Yvette plucked at her top. “I really could—” Cannon put his hand over her mouth. “We don’t have a door on the locker room, and sure, we’d all know not to step in, but there are other people here, other guys, and—” Vanity said, “So put someone there to keep watch for us.” Stack opened his mouth, but at first nothing came out. He cleared his throat. “Sounds carry down there.” He gestured. “There not being a door and all.” Grinning, Armie said, “Meaning whoever keeps guard—” “Watch,” Vanity corrected. “—will hear every little detail. Like clothes dropping. And water running. Even slick, soapy hands—” This time, Stack shoved him without Denver’s help. “I’ll do it,” Cannon offered, and he sounded like he’d just thrown himself on the sacrificial altar. “Fuck that.” Denver took a step forward. “I don’t want you listening to Cherry shower.” Cherry’s face got hotter. “Denver!” Folding his arms, Cannon stared at him. “You think I’d let you listen to Yvette?” “Cannon!” Yvette joined the brigade of embarrassed women. Only Vanity remained unflustered. “Let Armie do it.” Mutually appalled, Stack, Denver and Cannon all stared at her. Going along, Armie nodded and rubbed his hands together. “Yeah, let me do it.” “Hell, no.” “In his dreams.” “Not in this lifetime.” Armie laughed. “You guys know I won’t be thinking anything you wouldn’t be thinking.” “Maybe,” Denver said. “But we wouldn’t go blabbing it everywhere.” Crossing his heart dramatically, Armie swore, “It’ll be between me and my pillow.” Denver took a step toward him, but Vanity put herself in his way. “We’re showering. For the future, you might want to think about creating a space for women.” “Tried,” Cannon argued. “We’re out of room here. I wanted to expand, but the guy who owns the lot next to us doesn’t want to sell.” “Hmm...” Vanity got a thoughtful look on her face. “Well then, I suggest you find a desk to put down there and then, perhaps, we could plan this around when Harper is here doing the scheduling. She could be our lookout.” “I could call her—” Cannon tried to offer. But Stack noticed that Vanity already had both her arms wrapped around one of Armie’s. And damn him, Armie just let her, smiling in a way that just might lose him a few teeth. Leese looked at each of the men and started snickering. “They’re pathetic, right?” Armie said. “They’re something,” Leese agreed. “Not sure what.” “You two losers are just jealous,” Cannon accused. “Yeah,” Armie said, patting at Vanity’s arm. “So jealous.” Denver growled when Cherry cozied up to the other side of Armie, and even Yvette smiled as she followed along, all of them heading to the locker room. The men stared until the group was out of sight. “I’m going to have to punch him,” Denver said. “At least once.” “Get in line,” Cannon told him. Then he pointed at Leese. “Not a word out of you!” Trying to bite back his grin, Leese got started mopping. Damn, Stack wondered, did Vanity enjoy making him nuts? And unlike Cannon and Denver, he couldn’t protest as much as he wanted because, though he’d thrown out some signals, he and Vanity weren’t official. Fuck.

Clark often used chess as a means of fellowship with other students and professors, even if the matches were generally one-sided. One account of Clark’s chess prowess, given by family friend Tom Jones, is worth quoting at length: I bumped into Dr. Clark back in the late sixties when he was visiting his daughter Betsy on Lookout Mountain, Tennessee, where Betsy taught at Covenant College. I knew he was a chess champion and suggested that it would be fun to play with him sometime. He was eager to do so, and later that week he dropped by our home for an evening of chess. My wife had gone shopping and left me at home with our two small children. We played two games. In the first game I thought I did reasonably well for about a half an hour but then, rather abruptly, the entire left side of my board seemed to collapse and Dr. Clark swept me away. So, we played a second game in which he defeated me unceremoniously in about ten minutes. Feeling properly humiliated I asked a question, “Dr. Clark, I want to learn from you. So, tell me if you will, in that first game I thought I did fairly well for a while but then you just clobbered me at the end. Can you remember anything about where I made my mistakes?” With that Dr. Clark proceeded to set up that first game and replay the entire thing. He reached a point where he said, “Now, at this point, I expected that you would move your queen thus so, at which point I was prepared to counter with my knight, like so, and then . . . ” (with this he made about six hypothetical moves which he had anticipated), “but you didn’t do that” (he said as he put all the pieces back in place). “Instead, you moved your rook over here” (and with that he finished the game, explaining each move in the swift demise of my game). It was by now at least forty-five minutes after the first game had been played and he had remembered every single move in that game! I was amazed and thoroughly in submission to the master by now. But the thing that humiliated me the most was that the entire time that we had been playing he was holding my four-year-old son, Bradley, on his lap and was reading a story book to him. He would glance up after my moves, take a brief look at the board, make his move nonchalantly, and go back to reading the story. HE HAD NOT EVEN BEEN PAYING ATTENTION! Or so it seemed. What a mind!

Hello, Miss Emmie.” Bothwell smiled back at her, and to the earl’s watchful eye, there was just a bit too much longing and wistfulness in that smile. When the vicar brushed a kiss on the lady’s cheek, St. Just would have rolled his eyes, except Winnie was watching him too closely. Winnie rolled her eyes though, and that restored his humor. “Hullo, Miss Winnie.” The earl swung her up onto his shoulders. “You are the lookout, so spy me some of these cheese breads.” “Over there.” Winnie pointed. “On the bench near the lemonade.” The earl ambled over and bent at the knees to retrieve one. “Hold my gloves.” He held both hands up for Winnie to whisk off his gloves. “On second thought, you need to eat, too. I can barely tell you’re up there. Toss the gloves to the bench.” She complied and accepted a small, golden brown roll. As she munched, crumbs fell to the earl’s hair. “These are good,” the earl pronounced, taking a bite of his own cheese bread. “Aren’t you going to have one, Miss Farnum?” “I believe I will,” Emmie replied, avoiding his eyes. “Vicar?” “But of course.” “Lock your elbows, Winnie.” St. Just hefted her up and over his head, then set her on the ground. “You have crumbs in your hair,” Winnie said around a mouthful of bread. “I am starting the latest rage in bird feeders. May I have some lemonade, Miss Farnum?” “You may, but bend down.” He complied, bending his head so she could swat at his hair. Except she didn’t swat; she winnowed her fingers through his hair and sifted slowly, repeating the maneuver several times. The earl was left staring at her décolletage and inhaling the fresh, flowery scent wafting from her cleavage. “Now you are disheveled but no longer attractive to wildlife.” “Pity,” he murmured as he accepted a glass.

Cordy,” Uncle Mort interjected, “helpful things. Please.” “Sure, yeah,” Cordy said, still staring at her honeybunch’s biceps. “What do you want to know?” “You can see into all the windows, right? What’s going on?” “Well, ever since that alarm went off, everyone’s been going schizoid. The place is swarming with guards—all looking for you, I assume?” They nodded. “Well done. I think so far you’ve thrown them, but . . .” She looked up. “They’re all over the place, especially the next few floors.” “Residential.” Uncle Mort nodded. “That’s where they’ll be thickest. What about near the top, in Executive?” Cordy shrugged. “I don’t know—the windows are blocked to us for the uppermost twenty floors or so. Sorry.” “Damn, she’s good.” The sparkle in his eye left little doubt that he was talking about Skyla. When Lex looked offended, he crossed his arms. “Hey, if we were defending this building instead of attacking it, you’d be very impressed right now.” Cordy pointed at him and gave Lex a questioning look. “Uncle Mort has a girlfriend,” Lex explained. “Whaa?” Cordy said. “Don’t even ask. It’s beyond our powers of human comprehension.” “Gross!” “They even have a weird pool table euphemism for the dirty stuff.” “Super gross!” “Here’s an idea, Cordy,” Uncle Mort said, his irritation barely contained. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and keep a lookout for us?” Cordy pouted. “Fine.” She leaned in to Lex and pointed back at her uncle. “I want to hear more about the lovefest later.” “You really don’t.

He didn’t take her back to the shooting range right away. There was a lookout point between here and there. Linc swerved the dark cobalt car into it, pulling alongside the rock wall and switching the engine off. They had the lookout to themselves. “Why are we stopping?” she asked. Rhetorically. “Great view.” She glanced at the distant DC skyline, seeing the dome of the Capitol to the east and the tip of the Washington Monument. The Mall, its grassy expanse invisible from where they were, stretched to the Lincoln Memorial at the other end. Its blocky rectangular top appeared through the bare-branched trees. “Sure is.” Kenzie tossed her handbag into the footwell and turned to him. That grin on his handsome face was not about sightseeing. She allowed herself the pleasure of looking him over one last time. He pretended not to notice. Even looking straight ahead through the windshield, his dark eyes had a knowing glint. It was arrogant of him to assume that he knew what she wanted, even though he was right. And annoying of him to wait for her to make the first move. One strong hand rested on the wheel and the other on his thigh. Kenzie unbuckled her seat belt and leaned over. Two could play that game. She put her lips against his ear and he stiffened visibly. “What’s on your mind, Linc?” she breathed, teasing him. She was amused to see his eyes close with pleasure. Maybe he hadn’t been expecting her to say something like that. Too bad. She’d said it. Kenzie slid her hand over his smooth-shaven jaw and turned his face to hers. Wow. His gaze burned with passion. She’d never seen Linc like this. He was all man and then some. Hard to say who began the kiss, but it went on for a while. She didn’t remember taking the knot out of his tie, which hung open. A couple of buttons had parted company with the buttonholes on his shirt. Linc sat back when she did. “Wow. I mean, maybe you should take me home,” she said. “Not that I don’t want more, but--” Linc nodded, turning the key in the ignition until the engine revved. “Tell me when, Kenzie. That’s all I ask.

There are good things going on in the wider world, and we must join in while always remaining on the lookout for the point where we will be asked to do something that goes against the grain of the gospel. There are wicked things going on in the wider world, and we must stand out against them while always remaining on the lookout for the point where we become mere dualists, retreating from the world, which is already charged with the grandeur of God.

She was very careful after that, keeping a proper lookout, but nothing could quite quell her delight in the beauty she saw about her. It was as though she was taking the journey she had imagined on top of the library ladder the day she heard about her new life. Then the stream became wider, the current stronger, and she caught a glimpse of low, color-washed houses and heard a dog bark. “Manaus,” he said. He drew up to the bank and helped her out. She took out her purse, but he wouldn’t take her money, nor would he listen to her thanks. “Teatra Amazonas,” he said, pointing straight ahead. He would go no farther toward civilization. The boy watched her as she ran off. She looked back once and waved, but he had already turned the boat. He poled swiftly back through the maze of waterways. When he reached the place where he had found Maia, he smiled and half shook his head. Then he set the canoe hard at the curtain of green and vanished into his secret world.

Then in an instant the worst happened. The boy gave a wild shout, a shout of pure rage. He put down the paddle, threw himself on top of her, pressing her down against the floorboards of the boat, and kept her there pinioned. She felt his breath on her cheek. Then he released her and pointed. They had passed underneath a wicked-looking branch with spikes the size of knives. If he hadn’t forced her down, Maia would have been knocked unconscious or even blinded. As he clambered back and picked up the paddle, he was still muttering furiously in his own language and glaring at her. Without deciphering a single word, she knew he was scolding her for her carelessness, trying to explain that one had to be alert the whole time in the jungle. “Idiota!” he said finally, and though Senhor and Senhora Olvidares in the phrase book had not used the word, Maia understood it well enough. She was very careful after that, keeping a proper lookout, but nothing could quite quell her delight in the beauty she saw about her. It was as though she was taking the journey she had imagined on top of the library ladder the day she heard about her new life.

Wine drinker or not, this is delicious,” she scans the label. “Point Lookout, that’s where we are?

Just keep a lookout for pedestrians,” Persephone said. “I’ll give you ten points if you hit someone,” Hermes offered.

Statistical surveying assumes a critical part in grasping business sector elements, customer conduct, and industry patterns, especially in arising economies like Myanmar. As organizations in Myanmar look to explore a quickly developing business sector scene, the administrations presented by statistical surveying firms become progressively important. In this article, we will investigate the universe of market research firms in Myanmar , with a particular spotlight on AMT Statistical surveying. From their administrations and industry experiences to their effect on business development, we will dive into the key viewpoints that make statistical surveying fundamental for progress in Myanmar's business climate. 1. 1. Prologue to Statistical surveying Firms in Myanmar Understanding the Statistical surveying Industry in Myanmar Welcome to the universe of market research firms in Myanmar! In a nation overflowing with potential and valuable learning experiences, statistical surveying firms assume a vital part in assisting organizations with exploring the unique scene. 2. Outline of AMT Statistical surveying in Myanmar Foundation and History of AMT Statistical surveying AMT Statistical surveying isn't your regular person in the business. With a set of experiences as brilliant as a rainbow and a standing that sparkles more splendid than a disco ball, AMT has cut its name as a believed accomplice for organizations looking for bits of knowledge in Myanmar. Key Differentiators of AMT Statistical surveying What separates AMT from the rest? Consider them the Sherlock Holmes of statistical surveying - sharp, clever, and consistently a stride ahead. Their mystery ingredient lies in their capacity to mix information with instinct, giving clients a triumphant edge on the lookout. 3. Administrations Presented by AMT Statistical surveying Statistical surveying and Investigation Administrations AMT doesn't simply do the math and regurgitate reports. They jump profound into the dim waters of market patterns, purchaser conduct, and contender experiences to present a platter of key suggestions that hit the bullseye without fail. Counseling and Warning Administrations Need a directing hand in the deceptive territory of the Myanmar market? AMT's counseling and warning administrations resemble a compass, pointing you in the correct heading and assisting you with avoiding entanglements. Think of them as your market whisperers. 4. Industry Bits of knowledge and Patterns in Myanmar Key Businesses in Myanmar's Market From the clamoring roads of Yangon to the quiet shores of Inle Lake, Myanmar's market is a blend of different businesses. Whether it's the roaring tech area or the customary rural industry, AMT Statistical surveying keeps a finger on the beat, all things considered, Arising Patterns and Potential open doors What's hot and what's not in Myanmar? AMT Statistical surveying has their radio wires up, scouring the skyline for arising patterns and once in a lifetime kinds of chances that could be a distinct advantage for organizations. Remain tuned with them to ride the flood of progress in Myanmar's always developing market.## 5. Significance of Statistical surveying in Myanmar's Business Scene Statistical surveying assumes a urgent part in assisting organizations with exploring the unique scene of Myanmar. By giving significant bits of knowledge into purchaser inclinations, market patterns, and contender techniques, statistical surveying engages organizations to pursue informed choices that drive development and achievement.

The first step to changing bad habits is to be on the lookout for them. If you feel like you need extra help, then you can try Pointing-and-Calling in your own life.

If you had to pick a favorite place where you live, what would it be? It could be an inspiring place like a beautiful park or a lookout point. Or it could be a library, a café, or even your own front yard. Once you’ve settled on a special spot, bring sketching, writing, or painting supplies to this place. Make sure you have a comfortable spot to sit, then observe your surroundings. Notice the details, from the smells and sounds to the emotions you experience, as you sit. Now try to re-create this space in the creative medium of your choice — a story, poem, drawing, song, comic book, short movie — whatever you want. Express yourself via your chosen art medium. It doesn’t have to be perfect. When you’re done, challenge yourself to share your work with at least one person.

But as those who know the one who is the source of all beauty and the one to whom all beauty points, we should be on the lookout for every hint of beauty we can find.

I don’t know how to describe that moment. I had a gun in my hand, but I didn’t expect to actually use it. I thought I was there for backup. As a lookout at most. Then I saw one of the Polish soldiers pull his gun on my brother, and instinct took over. My hand floated up; the gun pointed right between the man’s eyes. I pulled the trigger without a thought.

Can’t We All Just Get Along? Can’t we all just get along? Unfortunately, no. Not always. Some people just don’t want to make that effort. And there are people who don’t want to play by the same rules. They don’t think they have to be considerate, respectful, fair, compassionate, and so on. Others may believe themselves to be superior to others for some reason, either due to position, authority, social status, wealth, politics, or religious beliefs. You are not one of these people, of course. But you will encounter others who are. It is an unfortunate fact of life. And we all have to contend with these folks at some point or other—in some work environments, you may have to contend with them every day. Accepting the fact that people will just not be inclined to get along with you or others is not to say that you should be on the lookout for these folks. The point is to accept that we cannot always get along with some people. So, what do to? When you encounter someone who repeatedly shows you she is not willing to do her part to get along with you, be polite, be respectful, but limit your interaction with this person. If you have made a sincere effort to make a connection with her and she does not return the effort, then the problem becomes hers. As long as you take the high road, you have nothing to feel bad about. Just continue to be yourself and get on with your day.

Through the Woods Imagine you’re going on a hike through the woods. You’re enjoying the sights and sounds, maybe stopping occasionally to admire a bit of birdsong or take a picture of a particularly lovely flower. Then, suddenly, as you’re strolling serenely along, a bear jumps out of the bushes directly at you, roaring loudly. You’re probably screaming in fear for your very life, trying desperately to think of a way to save yourself, bitterly regretting the decision to go on this hike, wondering what will happen to your children. “Why me?” you may think. “Why this?” But then, let’s say the bear stands up and takes off its head. It isn’t really a bear; it‘s just a guy in a bear costume trying to scare hikers. Now imagine taking that hike again, but this time, before you go, I warn you that someone is hiding along the path, dressed in a bear costume and jumping out to scare people. Now that you know, you’ll be on the lookout. Of course, the hike is long, and at times you forget. The moment the guy in the bear costume jumps out to scare you, you’ll still be startled. You might even jump or scream. But you won’t be completely terrorized, and you’ll recover from the shock more quickly, because you were forewarned and had some time to accept the idea that someone was going to jump out at you. You’ll say to yourself, “I knew this was going to happen at some point. It’s happened to lots of other hikers.” This is essentially what Buddhism teaches us about suffering. It’s there, and it’s scary, and at some point it’s going to jump out and startle you, but it doesn’t have to utterly terrify you. Try this: The next time you experience suffering or distress, instead of saying, “Life’s not fair” or, “Why is this happening to me?” tell yourself, “I was aware that this could happen. I’m not alone. Others are also experiencing this same thing.” Once you know that suffering is an unavoidable part of the experience, you can embrace the fact that it will happen at some point, worry less about it, and be prepared to recover more quickly when it comes.

And these were just the main-stem dams. As they were going up, the Columbia tributaries were also being chinked full of dams. Libby Dam on the Kootenai River. Albeni Falls and Boundary dams on the Pend Oreille. Cabinet Gorge and Noxon Rapids dams on the Clark Fork. Kerr and Hungry Horse on the Flathead. Chandler and Roza dams on the Yakima. Ice Harbor Dam, Lower Monumental Dam, Little Goose Dam, Lower Granite Dam, Oxbow Dam, Hells Canyon Dam, Brownlee Dam, and Palisades Dam on the Snake. Dworshak Dam on the North Fork of the Clearwater. Anderson Ranch Dam on the South Fork of the Boise. Pelton and Round Butte dams on the Deschutes. Big Cliff, Foster, Green Peter, and Detroit dams on the three forks of the Santiam River. Cougar Dam on the South Fork of the McKenzie. Dexter, Lookout Point, and Hills Creek dams on the Willamette. Merwin Dam, Yale Dam, and Swift Dam on the Lewis River. Layfield and Mossyrock dams on the Cowlitz. Thirty-six great dams on one river and its tributaries—a dam a year. The Age of Dams.

to changing bad habits is to be on the lookout for them. If you feel like you need extra help, then you can try Pointing-and-Calling in your own life. Say out loud the action that you are thinking of taking and what the outcome will be. If you want to cut back on your junk food habit but notice yourself grabbing another cookie, say out loud, “I’m about to eat this cookie, but I don’t need it. Eating it will cause me to gain weight and hurt my health.

As a child, I was taken to look at a mountain, every year, in the summer. I was only willing to say: nothing terrifying happens to the good The lookout road opened when the snowpack melted, late in the season Others have argued for green fields Every year my father pointed to the mountain. I couldn’t see that far—meaning, I suppose, I didn’t want to— His finger traced a rivulet toward a source high in a crease where two mountains met. His thumbprint on the site where he had camped.

Is there any iconic American monument that wasn’t secretly built for national security reasons?” I asked. Erica pursed her lips, considering this. “I don’t think the Gateway Arch in St. Louis was. It’s too wobbly. And frankly, what’s the point of a lookout tower in the middle of the country?” “How about the Seattle Space Needle?” “A big tower right near the border with Canada?” Erica asked. “C’mon. That’s definitely for security.” “Really? We’re worried about Canada?