Ma Issue Quotes

If you’re lucky enough to find something you’re good at, where people appreciate you, don’t thumb your nose at it. If it’s an issue of salary or benefits, I’m open to discussing it.

Oromis - What is the most important mental tool a person can possess? Eragon - Detrrmination. Oromis - [...] no. I meant the tool most necessary to choose the best course of action in any given situation. Determination is as common among men who are dull and foolish as it is among those who are brilliant intellects [...] Eragon - Wisdom, wisdom is the most important for a person to possess. Oromis- A fair guess, but, again, no. the answer is logic. Or, to put it another way, the ability to reason analytically.Applied properly it can overcome any lack of wisdom, which one only gains through age and experience. Eragon - yes but isn't having a good heart more important than logic. pure logic can lead you to conclusions that are ethically wrong, whereas if you are moral and righteous, that will ensure you don't act shamefully. Oromis - you confuse the issue. All I wanted to know isq what is the most useful 'tool'ma person can have [...] I agree that it is important to be of a virtous nature, but I would also conted that if you had to choose between giving a man a noble disposition or teaching him to think clearly, you'd do better to teach him to think clearly. Too many problems in this world are caused by men with noble dispositions and clouded minds.

My trust issues mean I sometimes struggle with being vulnerable, but you're starting to weasel your way into my heart. Truly. I'm going to do my best to let you in.

What did she look like?” I asked him. “Uh—” he faltered. “Would you say she’s better-looking than me?” “Ma’am,” said the cop, “I’m going to strongly recommend that you seek help for your anger issues.

The Gunner's Dream (From The Final Cut) Floating down through the clouds Memories come rushing up to meet me now. In the space between the heavens and in the corner of some foreign field I had a dream. I had a dream. Good-bye Max. Good-bye Ma. After the service when you're walking slowly to the car And the silver in her hair shines in the cold November air You hear the tolling bell And touch the silk in your lapel And as the tear drops rise to meet the comfort of the band You take her frail hand And hold on to the dream. A place to stay Enough to eat Somewhere old heroes shuffle safely down the street Where you can speak out loud About your doubts and fears And what's more no-one ever disappears You never hear their standard issue kicking in your door. You can relax on both sides of the tracks And maniacs don't blow holes in bandsmen by remote control And everyone has recourse to the law And no-one kills the children anymore. And no one kills the children anymore. Night after night Going round and round my brain His dream is driving me insane. In the corner of some foreign field The gunner sleeps tonight. What's done is done. We cannot just write off his final scene. Take heed of his dream.

On July 3, 1968, Chairman Mao issued an order calling for the ruthless suppression of class enemies. He wanted all members of the Five Black Categories to be eliminated, together with TWENTY THREE NEW TYPES of enemy , which included anyone who had ever served as a policeman before the Liberation, or who had been sent to prison or labor camp. And not only them but their family and distant relatives as well. That’s a lot of people. Yes. Just think, the literal meaning of the Chinese characters for “revolution” is “elimination of life

Having to deal with all of this surrealism was one thing, but it didn’t help matters that Aaron was mesmerizing to the point of distraction. Those eyes. That voice. That hair…well maybe not the hair. Those blonde strands were looking a little more chaos than organized since she’d last seen him several months ago. But that body. Man, that body. And that face. It was all too much to take, especially as Beckit was trying to process all of this new information. She was seriously beginning to think that he should have come with a government-issued warning label: DO NOT STARE DIRECTLY INTO THE FINE.

You may attempt to defy me, but I assure you, it is a waste of your energy." He spoke gently, that mocking male superiority setting her teeth on edge. "I am your lifemate, cherie, and I will give any order I deem necessary for your safety." She thumped his chest hard with her clenched fist. "You make me so mad, Gregori! I'm trying very hard to get along with you and your arrogant orders. You don't even change expression! We could be discussing the weather instead of having a fight." His eyebrows shot up. "This is no fight, ma petite. A fight is where we both are angry and have a contest of wills,a battle.There cannot be such a thing between us.I do not feel anger when I look at you,only the need to care for you and protect you. I am responsible for your health and safety, Savannah. I can do no other than to protect you,even from your own folly.You cannot hope to win.I know this absolutely, so there is no reason to become agitated over the issue." She thumped him again.He looked startled, then caught her flying fist in his hand and gently pried her fingers open.Very carefully he pressed a kiss into the exact center of her palm. "Savannah? Were you trying to hit me?" "I did hit you-twice,you scum.You didn't even notice the first time." She sounded very irritated with him. For some reason it made him want to smile. "I apologize,mon amour. Next time,I promise I will notice when you strike me." The hard edge to his mouth softened into a semblance of a smile. "I will even go so far as to pretend that it hurts,if you wish it." Her blue eyes flashed at him. "Ha,ha, ha, you're so funny,Gregori. Stop being so smug." "It is not being smug to know my own power, cherie. I am trying to care for you as best I know how.YOu do not make it easy for me. I find myself making poor decisions just to see that smile on your face," he admitted reluctantly. Savannah laid her head on his chest. "I'm sorry I'm so much trouble, Gregori." She wasn't certain if that was the strict truth.She rather liked stirring him up.

The need for strict discipline as a basis for all military action is equally evident in the remaining texts. According to Ssu-Ma the perfect army, placed far in the legendary past, requires neither rewards nor punishments. To make use of rewards but impose no punishments is the height of instruction; to impose punishments but issue no rewards is the height of awesomeness. Finally, employing a mixture of both punishments and rewards—combining sticks with carrots, as modern terminology has it—will end up by causing Virtue to decline. Thus the basic idea of dao, which underlines every one of these texts, breaks through once again. Governed by necessity, the best-disciplined army is so flawless that it requires neither rewards nor punishments. Behaving as if it were a single personality, it will follow its commander of its own accord. However, as the remaining texts make clear, this is an ideal that is rarely, if ever, attained.

As she lifted her own backpack over the side of the black, heavy-duty dodge pickup, Owen took it out of her hands and set it beside the one-man tent and sleeping bag the FBI had provided for him. “I could have done that,” she said. “Sure you could. But my daddy taught me a gentleman always helps a lady.” Bay was so startled at what he’d said, and the chagrined way he’s said it, that she laughed. “Oh, my god. Chauvinism is alive and well—” “We call it chivalry, or Southern courtesy, ma’am,” he said. She realized he was heading around the truck to open the door for her. She stepped in front of him and said, “It’s going to be a long trip if you refuse to let me pull my weight. I can get my own door, Mr. Blackthorne.” For a minute, she thought he was going to make an issue of it. Then he touched the brim of his hat, shot her a rakish grin that turned her insides to mush, and said, “Whatever you say, Mizz Creed.” She was so flustered, she took a half step backward, slid into the seat when he opened the door for her after all, and said, “My friends call me Bay.” Bay flushed as she realized what she’d said. As he came around the hood and got in, she said, “That is—I mean—you know what I mean!” He belted himself into the driver’s seat and started the engine, before he turned to her and said, “My friends call me Owe. You can call me Owen.” She stared at him disbelief. “Oh. You. Blackthorne, you.

La misère est ici une matière, me dit Gérard. Je suis étonné de l'accepter comme tout le monde. Avant de m'y intégrer complètement, le ressentiment contre les spoliateurs m'étouffait. Je ne rêvais plus que d'explosifs et de sabotages au risque d'en périr, avec même l'espoir d'en périr. Mais lorsque je rejoignais les miens, tout cela se dissipait. Je ne suis pas dupe de moi-même : fils d'officier supérieur, bien pouvur en diplômes, mon choix est un artifice, un luxe inverse. Quelqu'un m'a dit que les nantis peuvent en plus s'offrir de la bonne conscience comme on s'offre un vêtement de soie ou une pierre précieuse. Il n'a pas tout à fait tort. Je ne sais qu'une chose avec clarté : je n'accepte pas le monde tel qu'il est. J'ai en moi, de ce fait, une insurrection permanente avec laquelle je dois composer. Dans mon labyrinthe, trois issues : la première, faire ce pour quoi j'ai été programmé : bon salaire, petite famille, l'ordre !?... Deuxième issue : la révolte ouverte dont je sens les prémices en sourde germination. J'apparaîtrai alors comme porteur d'idées rouges et il n'y a pas de pire répression que celle qui vous catalogue, elle vous enferme dans votre casier et c'est de nouveau l'ordre. Troisième issue : la sublimation, on est secourable. Dans le naufrage général, on prête un coin de son épave à d'autres pour une idée censée transcender, cela est aussi une cohérence, j'y trouve mon compte, faute de mieux. Je viens aux hommes dont je m'occupe pour être aidé. C'est du troc, voilà tout.

Precisely how much do you know about hog killing, Mrs. Prescott?” the Captain asked. “I believe the question should be, Captain Winston, how much do I want to know about it?” “And your answer would be?” “As little as possible.” He laughed and she found herself smiling a little, too, sensing an olive branch in his demeanor. “I remember my first hog killing.” He looked down. “My father found me crying behind the barn.” “How old were you?” His brow furrowed. “Twenty-two, I think.” The seriousness of his tone coaxed a laugh from her. And even without addressing the issue wedged squarely between them, she felt the tension between them lessening. “I was about four years old,” he continued. “Maybe five. I don’t remember much more about that day, other than what my father said to me.” She found herself waiting, wanting to hear what he said next. “He told me that, as a boy, he’d had much the same reaction as I’d had. And that while he didn’t cry anymore when it came to the task of the day, he told me it was crucial, before we started anything, that we thank God for those animals’ deaths and what they meant to us as a family. It meant we would eat for the winter. That we wouldn’t go hungry. Although, after that first hog killing, my parents said I refused to eat pork for weeks.” She smiled at the image in her mind of him as a little boy. “But eventually”—a touch of humor tipped one side of his mouth—“bacon won out, and I gave in.” She couldn’t help but laugh. “Bacon is a force to be reckoned with.” “Yes, ma’am, it is. Especially fried up good and crisp.

Son beau prénom abîmé par mes cris d’amante amoureuse résonne dans ma chambre trop petite pendant que je m’acharne à nous fabriquer une histoire d’amour avec une histoire de cul.

Le pire n'est probablement pas que je préfère passer ma journée allongée, les rideaux tirés, en faisant semblant de télétravailler, mais plutôt que cet état me semble sans issue. Je pourrais m'habituer au spleen en embuscade mais pas à cette absence d'échappatoire.

It is important for you to understand that people will criticize you even if you don’t give them anything to criticize. Some people will find fault about what you are wearing. They will judge your actions without knowing what kind of directions your supervisor gave you to carry out a particular assignment. Some people will judge your attitude and your living environment. They will criticize the way you talk, walk, and eat. They will criticize the way you pray, dress, preach, teach, sing, and even cook. Some people will always find fault about anything and everything. It seems as if it is sometimes easier for people to focus on another person’s faults, problems, or issues so that they don’t have to cope with their own personal issues, shortcomings, and insecurities. My former pastor, who is now deceased, used to say, “I have six months to mind my own business and another six months to leave everybody else’s alone.” If we live with this kind of attitude, we will not have time to exercise a judgmental spirit or a spirit of criticism or faultfinding. We need to realize that when we criticize other people, we are not giving God glory. Instead, we are giving our opinion, which oftentimes leads to judging others and glorifying the works of the Devil and not God.

There is no chance that I will allow such a thing. You may attempt to defy me, but I assure you, it is a waste of your energy.” He spoke gently, that mocking male superiority setting her teeth on edge. “I am your lifemate, chérie, and I will give any order I deem necessary for your safety.” She thumped his chest hard with her clenched fist. “You make me so mad, Gregori! I’m trying very hard to get along with you and your arrogant orders. You don’t even change expression! We could be discussing the weather instead of having a fight.” His eyebrows shot up. “This is no fight, ma petite. A fight is where we both are angry and have a contest of wills, a battle. There cannot be such a thing between us. I do not feel anger when I look at you, only the need to care for you and protect you. I am responsible for your health and safety, Savannah. I can do no other than to protect you, even from your own folly. You cannot hope to win. I know this absolutely, so there is no reason to become agitated over the issue.” She thumped him again. He looked startled, then caught her flying fist in his hand and gently pried her fingers open. Very carefully he pressed a kiss into the exact center of her palm. “Savannah? Were you trying to hit me?” “I did hit you— twice, you scum. You didn’t even notice the first time.” She sounded very irritated with him. For some reason it made him want to smile. “I apologize, mon amour. Next time, I promise I will notice when you strike me.” The hard edge to his mouth softened into a semblance of a smile. “I will even go so far as to pretend that it hurts, if you wish it.” Her blue eyes flashed at him. “Ha, ha, ha, you’re so funny, Gregori. Stop being so smug.” “It is not being smug to know my own power, chérie. I am trying to care for you as best I know how. You do not make it easy for me. I find myself making poor decisions just to see that smile on your face,” he admitted reluctantly. Savannah laid her head on his chest. “I’m sorry I’m so much trouble, Gregori.” She wasn’t certain if that was the strict truth. She rather liked stirring him up.

After a long silence, he says, “André told me to start at the ground floor, but what is the ground floor? I’m not even comfortable touching you. I have trouble simply holding your hand.” “I know, but that’s OK,” I say. “See? Just now, you spoke about the handholding issue. That's progress. You didn’t even try to talk to me about it before. You should feel good about that—I do. Today and tonight, we can try just a little casual touching. We can hold hands, lean against each other maybe, or put our hands on each other's shoulders. Nothing intense. We'll keep things G-rated… mostly.” I smile at that, because we are so going to go past 'G-rated' tonight, if I have any say at all. Hopefully, we'll head straight to 'MA-rated' due to adult themes, nudity, sexual content and coarse language.

pragmatic psychology, skill set, strategy, and execution may just make you hard to beat! The commonly touted 80-20 rule in business states that roughly 80 percent of effects (outcomes) result from 20 percent of the causes. I prefer to think of it in the sense that about 80 percent of our results can come from 20 percent of our activities. I also believe that people should focus 80 percent of their time on (thinking about, planning, and implementing) the solution and not on (bickering and complaining endlessly about the people or the issues around) the problem, and that success stems from roughly 80 percent psychology and 20 percent mechanics. That being said, I coach my own

MA quality ratings are based on a large set of medical care indicators, measuring such things as whether patients in the plan are using Medicare wellness tests and staying healthy, how well the plans help manage patients with ongoing or chronic health issues, how patients feel about the care they’ve received, and how Medicare assesses plan performance. These variables are contested by many professional groups and practitioners. That’s hardly a surprise. But in the interest of being consumer friendly myself, let me give you a few tips:

Je comprenais que le petit tambour s’adressait au cœur nouveau qui battait en moi et, sous son impulsion, comme soulevée de terre, j’entendis naître dans ma bouche, issu du plus profond de mon corps, ce Chant qui me serait désormais euphorie et douleur.

Oof,” replied Easy, trying to loosen the clutch she had on his penis. “Say,” noticed Judy, “you’ve got an erection.” “People keep telling me that.” “Obviously you’re not a rat then. You find me attractive.” “It’s a simple reflex, ma’am. Anybody who rubbed my leg could produce a similar result.” “You’re ducking the issue.” She stroked the head of his penis twice more and let go.

Si fraîche… Si fraîche, en moi réveilles Le blanc des fleurs du cerisier, Et sur la terre, aux anges pareille, Devant moi tu apparais. Tapis que tu effleures à peine, À tes pieds frissonne la soie, Et de la tête jusqu'à la traîne D'un simple rêve, tu as le poids. Issue des plis de ton vêtement, D'un marbre tu prendrais la place, Dans tes yeux, dont je dépends, Les larmes amplifiaient la grâce. Ô, rêve heureux de mon amour, Ma fiancée venue des contes, Arrête ! Si tu souris toujours, De ta douceur, je me rends compte, Et combien forte tu serais À m'ombrager toujours la vue, Par des paroles murmurées, Par les étreintes des bras nus. Et brusquement, une pensée sage Voile la braise de tes regards : C'est le désir qui les ombrage, C'est le renoncement noir. Et tu t'en vas… je comprends : Ne pas suivre mon bonheur, Et je te perds éternellement, Ma douce fiancée du cœur ! C'est mon péché de t'avoir vu, Je ne pourrais jamais m'absoudre, Je veux l'expier, la main tendue, En vain, dans le désert de poudre. Et tu m'apparaîtras, icône, De la Vierge de tous les temps, Et sur ton front portant couronne ; Pourquoi partir ? Et tu viens quand ? (traduit par Elisabeta Isanos)

As I leave the DA's office building, the cold wind bring me wide awake. I trot down the steps through the shouting reporters without a word, turning left toward City Hall, which abuts the southeast face of the courthouse Just as I think I've cleared the feeding frenzy, someone catches hold of my arm. I whirl in anger, then find myself facing an elderly black woman huddling in a jacket. 'Yes, ma'am?' I say. 'How can I help you?' "Isobel Handley,' she says with a smile. 'I want to know when you're going to do something about the schools, Mayor. You got elected saying you were gonna fix 'em, but right now it's a crying shame how few children who go into the first grade make it through the twelfth for graduation. And you've been in office two whole years!' The reasons for this state of affairs are both simple and unimaginably complex, and I certainly don't have the resources to go through them on a cold sidewalk. Not today, anyway. But conversations like this one are the daily fare of a mayor. 'I'm talking about the PUBLIC schools,' the woman goes an. "Not the private white schools where the only black kids are football players.' 'Yes, ma'am," I say hopelessly. 'I'm working as hard as I can on the issue, I promise you.' 'If your little girl wasn't in a private school, you'd work harder.' 'Mrs. Handley, I-' 'You don't have to explain, baby, I understand. But you take a stick to them selectmen and supervisors, if you have to. That's what they need. Sometimes I think the schools were better before integration. At least we learned the fundamentals, and we graduated knowing how to read.' There's no point trying to explain that I have no authority over the county supervisors or the state board of education. 'Sometimes I wish I could do exactly what you suggested, Mrs. Handley. Now, you'd better get out of this cold. And Merry Christmas to you.' At last she smiles. 'You too, Mayor. God bless. And don't pay these reporters no mind.

Well, when you’re ready, you know I’m here. Don’t wait too long, or I’ma force the issue. If you’re bothered, I’m bothered, Mo, and when I’m bothered, I’ma see about you. You got me?

Now, on the other hand, he continued, let’s think about the zombie narrative. It’s not about a specific villain. One zombie can be easily killed, but a hundred zombies is another issue. Only amassed do they really pose a threat. This narrative, then, is not about any individual entity, per se, but about an abstract force the force of the mob, of mob mentality. Perhaps it’s better known these days as the hive mind. You can’t see it. You can't forecast it. It strikes at any time, whenever wherever, like a natural disaster, a hurricane, an earthquake.

Voilà à quoi je pensais, tandis que je marchais pour rentrer chez moi, légèrement ivre, après avoir quitté L. devant le bar où nous avions bu un troisième verre. Nous avions bien ri, elle et moi, au fond de la salle, car finalement la conversation avait dévié sur nos passions adolescentes, avant Barthes et toute la clique, à l’époque où nous accrochions des posters dans notre chambre. J'avais raconté à L. les deux années durant lesquelles, vers l'âge de seize ans, j'avais contracté puis developpé une cristallisation spectaculaire sur la personne d'Ivan Lendl, un joueur de tennis tchécoslovaque au physique ingrat dont je percevais la beauté obscure et saisissante, au point que je m'étais abonnée à Tennis Magazine (moi que je n'avais jamais touché une raquette de ma vie) et avais passé des heures devant les retransmissions televisées du tournoi de Roland Garros et Wimbledon au lieu de réviser mon bac. L. étais sidérée. Elle aussi l'avait adoré! C'était bien la première fois que je rencontrais quelqu'un qui avait aimé Ivan Lendl, l'un des joueurs les plus detestés de l'histoire du tennis, sans doute à cause de son visage austère que rien ne pouvait dérider, et de son jeu de fond de court, méthodique et rébarbatif. Selon toute vraisemblance, c'est d'ailleurs pour ces raisons, parce qu'il était si grand, maigre et incompris, que je l'ai tant aimé. À la même époque, oui, exactement, L. avait suivi tous les matchs d'Ivan Lendl, elle s'en souvenait parfaitement, notamment de cette fameuse finale de Roland Garros jouée contre John McEnroe, que Lendl avait gagné à l'issue d'un combat d'une rare intensité dramatique. Les images l'avaient alors montré victorieux, défiguré pour l'épuisement, et pour la première fois le monde entier avait découvert son sourire. L. était incollable, se souvenait de tous les détails de la vie et de la carrière d'Ivan Lendl que j'avais pour ma part oubliés. C'était incroyable, plus de vingt ans après, de nous imaginer toutes les deux hypnotisées devant nos postes de télevision, elle en banlieue parisienne et mois dans un village de Normandie, souhaitant l'une et l'autre avec la même ardeur le sacre de l'homme de l'Est. L. savait auusi ce qu’Ivan Lendl était devenu, elle avait suivi tout cela de très près, sa carrière comme sa vie privée. Ivan Lendl était marié et père de quatre enfants, vivait aux Ètats-Unis, entraînait de jeunes joueurs de tennis et s’était fait refaire les dents. L. déplorait ce dernier point, la disparition du sourire tchécoslovaque (dents rangées de manière inégale dont on devinait le chevauchement) au profit d’un sourire américain (dents fausses parfaitement alignées, d’un blanc éclatant), selon elle, il y avait perdu tout son charme, je n’avais qu’à vérifier sur Internet si je ne la croyais pas. C’était un drôle de coïncidence. Un point commun parmi d’autres, qui nous rapprochait.

—  L’avenir n’est pas figé, Ryvenn. Le moindre grain de poussière peut le transformer. —  C’est votre manière de me dire que l’issue de la bataille n’est pas déterminée ? demandai-je. —  C’est ma manière de te dire qu’il n’est pas nécessaire de connaître l’avenir pour se battre pour une juste cause.

Each looked at the process [of drafting an agreement] as drawing a series of concentric circles to circumscribe the risks, with the issues in the inner rings being the most likely risks. They tried to draw as many circles as reasonably necessary, without burdening the deal with too much complexity. Frank's structures were often elliptical, covering issues in the outer rings while sometimes leaving others reasonably near the center uncovered. Marshall's deals were more symmetrical and less complex, unlikely to cover remote or novel risks not in the center (although possibly a problem in time), since he proceeded from precedent.

men bowed, being unable to force the issue. As Sethirkhopeshef

My clothes aren’t going to get dried until you wash them. Which involves putting them in the washer, and that involves picking them off the floor.” Marshell wiggled his eyebrows at me, then turned and stepped into the shower. I did drool when I got a look at his ass. “Oh my….” Did I mention I was an ass man? “Remi?” “Uh-huh?” My vocabulary had taken a hike, it appeared. “I can smell your desire. If you’re still here by the count of five, I’m getting out and coming after you. One of us is going to get fucked in this awesome shower of yours, so….” Marshell said from the shower. “One.” The sound I made was a cross between a squeak and a growl, thanks to acres and acres of wet, glistening skin. I wanted to run my tongue over every square— “Two…. “Three….” I grabbed his jeans and ran. The softly whispered word “chicken” followed me out of there. I was halfway to the laundry room before I could take a deep breath. Then it hit me what I’d done. I ran out on him. Honestly calling me a chicken was too kind. I was a coward. The only reason I ran was because I was afraid to bottom. I was a top. I always topped. I threw his clothes in the washer, tossed in one of those little pods, and turned it on. Then banged my head against it. What was I doing? Why was I standing here and not in the shower with him? Yes, I topped because I was afraid to do anything else. My one and only experience with bottoming was an unmitigated disaster. A painful, excruciating, unbearable disaster, and I hadn’t repeated the experience since. “I’m an idiot.” What happened was a long time ago. A really, really long time ago, and I let it shape me. Not only shape me, but run my life. I knew that, but it didn’t really seem to matter. The males I hooked up with were bottoms. They wanted me to top, so it was never an issue. Now things had changed. Marshell was my mate. I knew perfectly well he’d take care not to hurt me. How did I know? Because when I got a chance at that ass of his—and I certainly planned to—I’d take care not to hurt him either. All I had to do was… trust him. Trust him. But I really didn’t know him. Then again, I nearly lost him too. My goddess wouldn’t match me with someone I couldn’t love. Maybe I needed to trust her. Maybe… maybe I needed to trust myself. Something deep inside me said Marshell was a good man. I hurried out of the laundry and back to the bathroom.

Want something?” “Yeah, your mouth on my dick.” Remi’s eyes darkened. “I also want your cock up my ass.” Lust and shock slid across Remi’s face. “You… you…. Are you saying you want to mate?” Fuck yes, I was. We’d talked, and I knew what we faced. Didn’t matter. I wanted him. All that other shit was unimportant. He was all that mattered. “Yes.” Remi’s eyes widened. “We don’t have…. We can suck each other off. I can…. We can—” “Am I your mate?” I demanded. Remi blinked. “Hell yes.” I noticed he hadn’t let go of my cock. “Do you want me?” Remi gulped and nodded frantically. His hair whipped around his face. “More than my next breath.” “You’ve explained how we mate, correct?” “Yes.” “Then as far as I’m concerned, there’s no reason to wait. Yes, we have a bunch of issues to deal with, but you want me, and I want you. Is that right

Mi sento dire spesso: «Eh, ma ormai siete dappertutto», come se fossimo una specie di epidemia. Facciamo qualsiasi mestiere, possiamo conquistare ogni carica, in fondo. Siamo protagoniste delle pubblicità e dei film. Ma se è per questo, di immagini femminili è piena da sempre anche la pornografia. Non è la quantità a fare la visibilità. È la considerazione, è l’autorevolezza, sono i ruoli che ricopriamo.

Parti de Iași un 23 mai, j'y retournai un mois plus tard–n'ayant, dans l'intervalle, pas ménagé ma peine. Entre la poursuite des lectures que je jugeais indispensables, les appels aux amis et maintes tentatives d'établir de nouveaux contacts, les semaines eurent tôt fait de filer. À Bucarest, Dieu merci, on s'était mis en quatre pour m'assister. Suite à l'intercession de Dan Berindei, vice-président de l'Académie roumaine,… trois professeurs d'histoire de l'université Alexandru Ioan Cuza, de Iași, se dirent prêts à faire ma connaissance. Quant à Ana Blandiana, poétesse, présidente de la Fondation de l'académie civique et inlassable animatrice du mémorial de Sighet, elle m'offrit d'approcher un confrère écrivain qui, sous peu, m'ouvrirait d'éclairantes perspectives sur le climat intellectuel régnant en ville dans le troisième quart du XIXe siècle. Folles journées qui me virent zigzaguer d'un coin à l'autre de la vie, entre la commémoration des soixante-dix ans du pogrom, les assises d'un colloque international consacré aux journées meurtrières des 28 et 30 juin 1941 et les rencontres desquelles risquait fort de dépendre la suite de mon entreprise ! Comment en rendre compte ? Pas facile–quand bien même, c'est vrai, relativement au colloque, à défaut de comprendre le roumain, mes stations au Centre d'histoire des Juifs et d'études hébraïques me laissent davantage d'impressions que de souvenirs précis. Hormis, bien sûr, le vif plaisir d'y avoir retrouvé Felicia Waldman, celui d'avoir pu faire la connaissance du professeur Carol Iancu, auteur du magistral essai intitulé "Les Juifs en Roumanie (1866–1919)", et l'intense émotion que nous valut l'exposé d'Avinoam Safran, le fils d'Alexandre Safran, c'est érudit issu d'une illustre lignée rabbinique, que le sort désigna pour devenir–le 4 février 1940, à seulement vingt-neuf ans–grand rabbin de Roumanie, et dont l'inouïe détermination face au "Conducător" Antonescu arracha à une mort programmée un nombre considérable de coreligionnaires. (p. 58–59)

My mother had been expecting the pineapple-and-truffle salad to be a great success. But the ambassador, after spending a moment exercising his penetrating gift of observation on the dish, ate the salad with complete diplomatic discretion and vouchsafed no opinion on it. My mother urged him to have some more; and as he did so, instead of offering the expected compliment, he said, "I cannot refuse, ma'am, since you have clearly issued an ukase.

How Tap Position Indicators Help Ensure Transformer Safety and Efficiency? Transformers play a pivotal role in electrical power distribution by stepping up or stepping down voltage levels to facilitate efficient power transmission. To ensure they operate safely and efficiently, transformers are equipped with various mechanisms, one of the most crucial being the tap changer. A tap changer allows the transformer to adjust its voltage ratio in response to changing load conditions. Tap Position Indicators (TPIs) are integral to this process, ensuring that the transformer operates within the desired parameters while maintaining safety and efficiency. What are Tap Position Indicators? A Tap Position Indicator is a device used in transformers to display the current position of the tap changer. The tap changer typically has multiple positions, each corresponding to a specific voltage level. As electrical load conditions change, the tap changer adjusts the voltage to maintain the system's stability. TPIs provide a real-time visual or digital readout of which tap position is currently in use, allowing operators to monitor and manage voltage adjustments effectively. At Precimeasure, we manufacture Tap Position Indicators of models 2246, 2257, 2245T, 2264. This instrument indicates the tap position of ON LOAD tap changes employed in transformers with options of resistance input, 4-20 mA input or BCD input. The Role of TPIs in Transformer Safety Transformers, especially those operating in critical infrastructure, must be maintained within precise voltage tolerances. Overvoltage or undervoltage can damage sensitive equipment and lead to system failures. Tap Position Indicators play a crucial role in preventing such issues by helping operators identify if a transformer is operating at the correct tap setting for the load conditions. 1. Preventing Overloading: By continuously monitoring the tap changer's position, TPIs help prevent overloading of the transformer. If the transformer operates at the wrong tap setting, it can cause excessive current flow, leading to overheating or even catastrophic failure. The TPI ensures the transformer is always running at the optimal setting, based on load conditions, thus avoiding overloading. 2. Minimizing Damage from Incorrect Settings: Transformers are designed to handle specific ranges of voltage and current. If the voltage is too high or too low, it can damage the transformer’s insulation or other internal components. With TPIs, operators can visually confirm if the tap changer has shifted to an incorrect position, ensuring that the transformer stays within safe operational parameters. 3. Early Detection of Mechanical Failures: Sometimes, mechanical issues such as faulty tap changer operation can lead to incorrect tap positions. A TPI helps identify such problems early, allowing for preventive maintenance before more severe damage occurs. The Role of TPIs in Transformer Efficiency In addition to safety, TPIs also contribute to the efficiency of transformers. Efficient voltage regulation is essential for reducing energy losses and optimizing performance. 1. Optimizing Voltage Regulation: Transformers must maintain a consistent voltage level despite variations in load. TPIs allow operators to monitor the tap changer and adjust the settings as needed to keep the voltage stable. Proper voltage regulation ensures minimal energy loss, which translates to reduced operational costs and improved energy efficiency. 2. Enhancing Load Management: By providing real-time information about the tap changer’s position, TPIs help operators make informed decisions about load management. This can result in smoother operations and less frequent manual interventions, which increases the transformer’s overall lifespan. 3. Preventing Energy Losses: Operating a transformer at an incorrect tap setting can result in significant energy losses.