Mcintosh Quotes

There’s nothing wrong with your daughter, Mrs. McIntosh. I said we’re not sleeping together. I didn’t say I didn’t want to.

Carpe Diem, just remember that we're partying on the Titanic.

The guaranteed cure for heartbreak: find pain that’s much, much worse.

Scotties are smelly, even the best of them. You will recall how my Aunt Agatha’s McIntosh niffed to heaven while enjoying my hospitality. I frequently mentioned it to you.’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘And this one is even riper. He should obviously have been bedded out in the stables.

Spare me. You don’t kiss period. But look at you. My, my, my. Aside from your bashed up face, you’re glowing. I haven’t seen you look happy in years.” Taddy studied her from top to bottom. “He slammed your pussy, didn’t he?” Taddy gunned for an answer. “The longtime Miss Prudence of Prudeville, my frigid friend, the “Big Apple Starved for Sex” got her McIntosh plucked. Or should I say fucked and made into apple sauce.

Everyone carries a burden. Only the weight differs.

If I could explain a head in a barrel to the King, he thought, I can explain a man in a tanpit to a Bishop. But I'd sooner be more certain of the facts.

I've told you before, Salmeo, you may be more woman than man but you cannot think like one of us.

If indeed there was an intruder in the McIntosh house, it would be deeply satisfying to apprehend him. Barb McIntosh suspected a sex offender, and, if she was right, Em knew exactly where she’d target the electrodes.

Einstein wrote, “Whether you can observe a thing or not depends on the theory which you use. It is the theory which decides what can be observed.

It's funny. Friendships are Catch twenty-twos when you're single and in your thirties. Friends are your life rafts. You try to help each other meet people, you confide in each other, you spend Thanksgiving, Valentine's Day, all those emotional land-mine holidays together. But sooner or later one of you is going to meet someone and be gone into the world of couples.

relationships are the real, evolving, living systems of human culture.

Nietzsche said ‘What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger,’” Jim said to me as we slogged along another trash-strewn roadside." “Yeah, right,” I said. “How about radiation?

Be broken, but also, be brave. Your enemies are counting on you to break. The world around is counting on you to breakthrough.

If there is one spot of sun spilling onto the floor, a cat will find it and soak it up.” J. A. MCINTOSH

$16 9. What’s Ivy’s last name? a. McIntosh b. Pippin c. Braeburn d. Smith 10. Eric tried to break the world’s record for . . . (Hint: Ivy and Bean Break the Fossil Record, BOOK )

The waltz was the only way a young couple could touch one another, and even through gloves I could feel the heat of your grandfather's touch,'she'd tell Luc, with a wicked glimmer in her eye.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember the taste of snow apples. When he was a child, there was a gnarled tree of them behind his father's blacksmith shop. His mother would always pick them but there were never enough for more than a single tart. Spicy and yet sweet, like McIntosh, but the flesh was so impossibly white, pristine, and the juice was so abundant, that it was like no other apple he had ever tasted.

[Peggy Mcintosh] explained that many people, but especially women, feel fraudulent when they are praised for their accomplishments. Instead of feeling worthy of recognition, they feel undeserving and guilty, as if a mistake has been made. Despite being high achievers, even experts in their fields, women can't seem to shake the sense that it is only a matter of time until they are found out for who they are -- impostors with limited skills or abilities

We can see this flowing circuit of truth in action by recalling that when we have a vivid truth experience—when we learn something of real value that we are enthusiastic about—it fills us with a desire to relate this truth to someone else.

Look! You look, Mr Stone Eagle!' I shout down the telephone. 'This one's big time. This one's different. Do you know where the people behind your superquarry came from — names like McAskill and Kelly? They came from places like the Hebrides and Ireland in the Celtic world. Over here. They got pulled like weeds from their own land and transplanted onto yours. Don't you see? We're both from superquarry-threatened communities. We're both from communities that got fucked over, yes, fucked over. They cleared the native people and now they're wanting even the rocks.

McIntosh urges people to ‘raise our daily consciousness’ on the nature of privilege and attempt to use ‘our arbitrarily awarded power to try to reconstruct power systems on a broader basis’. This suggests that McIntosh is not against power, just in favour of some redistribution of it along different lines.

Here is how Karl Menninger defines loyalty: Loyalty means not that I agree with everything you say or believe you are always right. Loyalty means that I share a common ideal with you and that, regardless of minor differences, we fight for it, shoulder to shoulder, confident in one another’s good faith, constancy, and affection.[16]

How can you develop a healthy dating relationship? Through trial and error, I have found that developing a healthy dating relationship with someone requires that both people have a healthy relationship with God, which they maintain through prayer, scripture study (especially of the Atonement), repentance, and living the commandments.

And why can't I have an ignore button like my phone? As I hit it, his calls disappear from the screen and the ringing stops. But the tingles are still at my fingertips, as if he sent them through the phone to grab me. Shoving it in my purse-the pockets on skinny jeans must just be for show 'cause nothing else is fitting in there-I smile at Mark. Ah, Mark. The blue-eyed, blond-haired, all-American quarterback. Who knew he had a crush on me all these years? Not Emma McIntosh, that's for dang sure. And not Chloe. Which is weird, because Chloe was a collector of this kind of information. Maybe it's not true. Maybe Mark's only interested in me because Galen was-who wouldn't want to date the girl who dated the hottest guy in school? But that's just fine with me. Mark is...well, Mark isn't as fantabulous as I always imagined he would be. Still, he's good-looking, a star quarterback, and he's not trying to hook me up with his brother. So why am I not excited? The question must be all over my face because Mark's got his eyebrow raised. Not in a judgmental arch, more like an arch of expectation. If he's waiting for an explanation, his puny human lungs can't hold their breath long enough for an answer. Aside from not being his business, I can't exactly explain the details of my relationship with Galen-fake or otherwise. The truth is, I don't know where we can go from here. He ripped holes in my pride like buckshot. And did I mention he broke my heart? He's not just a crush. Not just a physical attraction, someone who can make me forget my own name by pretending to kiss me. Not just a teacher or a snobby fish with Royal blood. Sure, he's all of those things. But he's more than that. He's who I want. Possibly forever.

What is, is, what ain't, ain't

Humans draw a hard line between thinking something and saying it aloud.

In my psychology class, I learned that bettors are more confident about the horses they pick after they place their bets.

I’m just–” She wanted to say “not in the mood,” but that was not only a cliché but a vast understatement. She was dead.

The one who complains about the way the ball bounces is likely the one who dropped it. Lou Holtz

We sat in silence, staring out into the street, listening to the creak of the porch swing, the crickets, and the occasional gunshot.

For as long as you are alive, He's not done with you yet.

The Lord is coming back for us someday, so keep busy for Him. Keep learning and growing and trust in Him for your life and the time you still have here.

Change is sometimes hard but not always bad. Let God use your changes in life to glorify Him and bless others.

I have learned the importance of putting others first and using my rough times to encourage someone else.

There is surely nothing quite so useless as doing with great efficiency what should not be done at all. Peter Drucker

Reading books, and finding new books and genres is one of the most fascinating things a human can do.

The best arises from the soul that feels loved, not judged.

I was taught to see racism only in individual acts of meanness, not in invisible systems conferring dominance on my group.

I am not where I am out of want but rather out of need. There may be a need to learn something, do something, speak something, or any combination of the 3.

A friend will love you enough to tell you the truth.

रॅस्किनला वाटायचं, कम्प्यूटरचं नामकरण एखाद्या स्त्रीलिंगी नावानी करणं म्हणजे लिंगभेद करण्यासारखं आहे. म्हणून त्यानी त्या प्रकल्पाचं पुनर्नामकरण केलं ते त्याच्या आवडीच्या मॅकइनटॉश -McIntosh - या लालचुटूक रंगाच्या सफरचंदाच्या नावानी. पण ‘मॅकइनटॉश लॅबोरेटरी’ या ऑडिओ उपकरणं बनवणाऱ्या कंपनीबरोबर नामसाधर्म्याचा वाद होऊ नये म्हणून त्यानी हेतूपुरस्सर त्याचं स्पेलिंग वेगळं केलं. असा तो प्रस्तावित कम्प्यूटर मॅकइनटॉश -Macintosh- अशा नावानी ओळखला जाऊ लागला.

I'll tell you if you tell me," I say, washing my hands of maturity. I'm tired of the double standard-she keeps secrets, but I'm not allowed. Also, I'm tired, period. I need sleep. Which means I need answers. "What do you mean? Tell you what?" "I'll tell you what we were really doing out there. After you tell me who my real parents are." There, I opened it. A chunky can of wiggling worms. She laughs, just like I expect her to. "Are you serious?" I nod. "I know I'm adopted. I want to know how. Why. When." She laughs again, but there's something false in it, as if it wasn't her first reaction. "So that's what this is about? You're rebelling because you think you're adopted? Why on earth would you think that?" I fold my hands in front of me on the table. "Look at me. We both know I'm different. I don't look like you or Dad." "That's not true. You have my chin and mouth. And there's no disinheriting the McIntosh nose.

What’s natural eventually turns inward to bring stability, but then the church becomes so stable that no one wants to grow anymore. People begin to guard the structure and programs already in place, so it is difficult to close out an older ministry, let alone start a new one.

John Houghton, in his article on Augustine and Tolkien, has made the point that there are in fact “two moments in the task of theology.” On the one hand, the theologian must “de-mythologize” and so render intelligible to his audience the meaning of divine revelation or sacred scripture by explaining it in terms of what they already know.2 It is this first task of theology with which St. Thomas was primarily involved, translating, as I suggested in the Introduction, the mythos of biblical revelation into the logos of Aristotle and the “vernacular” of late medieval scholasticism. “On the other hand,” Houghton continues, “the theologian faces the task of recovery, of restoring the power of images and stories that have grown weak from cultural change or from mere familiarity. In this sense the theologian’s task is not demythologizing but mythopoesis as...‘re-mythologizing’...

Footsteps from the stairwell startle him out of the past. He turns around as Emma's mother takes the last step into the dining area, Emma right behind her. Mrs. McIntosh glides over and puts her arm around him. The smile on her face is genuine, but Emma's smile is more like a straight line. And she's blushing. "Galen, it's very nice to meet you," she says, ushering him into the kitchen. "Emma tells me you're taking her to the beach behind your house today. To swim?" "Yes, ma'am." Her transformation makes him wary. She smiles. "Well, good luck with getting her in the water. Since I'm a little pressed for time, I can't follow you over there, so I just need to see your driver's license while Emma runs outside to get your plate number." Emma rolls her eyes as she shuffles through a drawer and pulls out a pen and paper. She slams the door behind her when she leaves, which shakes the dishes on the wall. Galen nods, pulls out his wallet, and hands over the fake license. Mrs. McIntosh studies it and rummages through her purse until she produces a pen-which she uses to write on her hand. “Just need your license number in case we ever have any problems. But we’re not going to have any problems, are we, Galen? Because you’ll always have my daughter-my only daughter-home on time, isn’t that right?” He nods, then swallows. She holds out his license. When he accepts it, she grabs his wrist, pulling him close. She glances at the garage door and back to him. “Tell me right now, Galen Forza. Are you or are you not dating my daughter?” Great. She still doesn’t believe Emma. If she won’t believe them anyway, why keep trying to convince her? If she thinks they’re dating, the time he intends to spend with Emma will seem normal. But if they spend time together and tell her they’re not dating, she’ll be nothing but suspicious. Possibly even spy on them-which is less than ideal. So, dating Emma is the only way to make sure she mates with Grom. Things just get better and better. “Yes,” he says. “We’re definitely dating.” She narrows her eyes. “Why would she tell me you’re not?” He shrugs. “Maybe she’s ashamed of me.” To his surprise, she chuckles. “I seriously doubt that, Galen Forza.” Her humor is short lived. She grabs a fistful of his T-shirt. “Are you sleeping with her?” Sleeping…Didn’t Rachel say sleeping and mating are the same thing? Dating and mating are similar. But sleeping and mating are the same exact same. He shakes his head. “No, ma’am.” She raises a no-nonsense brow. “Why not? What’s wrong with my daughter?” That is unexpected. He suspects this woman can sense a lie like Toraf can track Rayna. All she’s looking for is honesty, but the real truth would just get him arrested. I’m crazy about your daughter-I’m just saving her for my brother. So he seasons his answer with the frankness she seems to crave. “There’s nothing wrong with your daughter, Mrs. McIntosh. I said we’re not sleeping together. I didn’t say I didn’t want to.” She inhales sharply and releases him. Clearing her throat, she smoothes out his wrinkled shirt with her hand, then pats his chest. “Good answer, Galen. Good answer.” Emma flings open the garage door and stops short. “Mom, what are you doing?” Mrs. McIntosh steps away and stalks to the counter. “Galen and I were just chitchatting. What took you so long?” Galen guesses her ability to sense a lie probably has something to do with her ability to tell one. Emma shoots him a quizzical look, but he returns a casual shrug. Her mother grabs a set of keys from a hook by the refrigerator and nudges her daughter out of the way, but not before snatching the paper out of her hand.

The majority of tragically fallen Christian leaders during the past ten to fifteen years have been baby boomers who felt driven to achieve and succeed in an increasingly competitive and demanding church environment. Most often their ambition has been a subtle and dangerous combination of their own dysfunctional personal needs and a certain measure of altruistic desire to expand the kingdom of God. However, because ambition is easily disguised in Christian circles and couched in spiritual language (the need to fulfill the Great Commission and expand the church), the dysfunctions that drive Christian leaders often go undetected and unchallenged until it is too late.

In America, we like to think that the reason we have had success is that we worked hard or we were smart. Admitting that racism has played a part in our success means admitting that the American dream isn’t quite so accessible to all. A social justice educator named Peggy McIntosh has pointed out some of these advantages: having access to jobs and housing, for example. Walking into a random hair salon and finding someone who can cut your hair. Buying dolls, toys, and children’s books that feature people of your race. Getting a promotion without someone suspecting that it was due to your skin color. Asking to speak to someone in charge, and being directed to someone of your race.

We're all so happy you're feeling better, Miss McIntosh. Looks like you still have a good bump on your noggin, though," she says in her childlike voice. Since there is no bump on my noggin, I take a little offense but decide to drop it. "Thanks, Mrs. Poindexter. It looks worse than it feels. Just a little tender." "Yeah, I'd say the door got the worst of it," he says beside me. Galen signs himself in on the unexcused tardy sheet below my name. When his arm brushes against mine, it feels like my blood's turned into boiling water. I turn to face him. My dreams really do not do him justice. Long black lashes, flawless olive skin, cut jaw like an Italian model, lips like-for the love of God, have some dignity, nitwit. He just made fun of you. I cross my arms and lift my chin. "You would know," I say. He grins, yanks my backpack from me, and walks out. Trying to ignore the waft of his scent as the door shuts, I look to Mrs. Poindexter, who giggles, shrugs, and pretends to sort some papers. The message is clear: He's your problem, but what a great problem to have. Has he charmed he sense out of the staff here, too? If he started stealing kids' lunch money, would they also giggle at that? I growl through clenched teeth and stomp out of the office. Galen is waiting for me right outside the door, and I almost barrel into him. He chuckles and catches my arm. "This is becoming a habit for you, I think." After I'm steady-after Galen steadies me, that is-I poke my finger into his chest and back him against the wall, which only makes him grin wider. "You...are...irritating...me," I tell him. "I noticed. I'll work on it." "You can start by giving me my backpack." "Nope." "Nope?" "Right-nope. I'm carrying it for you. It's the least I can do." "Well, can't argue with that, can I?" I reach around for it, but he moves to block me. "Galen, I don't want you to carry it. Now knock it off. I'm late for class." "I'm late for it too, remember?" Oh, that's right. I've let him distract me from my agenda. "Actually, I need to go back to the office." "No problem. I'll wait for you here, then I'll walk you to class." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "That's the thing. I'm changing my schedule. I won't be in your class anymore, so you really should just go. You're seriously violating Rule Numero Uno." He crosses his arms. "Why are you changing your schedule? Is it because of me?" "No." "Liar." "Sort of." "Emma-" "Look, I don't want you to take this personally. It's just that...well, something bad happens every time I'm around you." He raises a brow. "Are you sure it's me? I mean, from where I stood, it looked like your flip-flops-" "What were we arguing about anyway? We were arguing, right?" "You...you don't remember?" I shake my head. "Dr. Morton said I might have some short-term memory loss. I do remember being mad at you, though." He looks at me like I'm a criminal. "You're saying you don't remember anything I said. Anything you said." The way I cross my arms reminds me of my mother. "That's what I'm saying, yes." "You swear?" "If you're not going to tell me, then give me my backpack. I have a concussion, not broken arms. I'm not helpless." His smile could land him a cover shoot for any magazine in the country. "We were arguing about which beach you wanted me to take you to. We were going swimming after school." "Liar." With a capital L. Swimming-drowning-falls on my to-do list somewhere below giving birth to porcupines. "Oh, wait. You're right. We were arguing about when the Titanic actually sank. We had already agreed to go to my house to swim.

It was a reasonable argument. And for the past ten years things had only gotten worse. Blackouts, war, fifty-seven varieties of terrorists, water shortages, plagues. It reminded me of a story about frogs: if you put them in an open pot of water and turn on the burner, they just sit there and boil to death, because they’re not equipped to recognize and respond to gradual changes in water temperature. They could jump out at any time, but there never comes a time when their little brains judge it’s time to jump. So they cook. I

Then they had a day together in Melbourne and Jenny stayed in her first hotel, with Luc sparing no expense and treating her to the Windsor for the night. Here, Jenny experienced a luxury that had her wide-eyed, where men in their fine uniform of burgundy jackets, trimmed with gold, fussed around them and suggested an afternoon tea like never before. Luc couldn’t help but grin to see his daughter engulfed in a leather chair, near the huge arched picture windows that fronted Spring Street, choosing cucumber sandwiches and beautiful little cakes and pastries from a silver tiered cake stand.

In the U.S. Articles of Confederation, the federal government gave itself the exclusive right to regulate “the trade and managing all affairs with the Indians.” This power was repeated in the 1790 Trade and Intercourse Act, which further refined “trade” and “affairs” to include the purchase and sale of Indian land. The intent of these two pieces of legislation was clear. Whatever powers states were to have, those powers did not extend to Native peoples. Beginning in 1823, there would be three U.S. Supreme Court decisions—Johnson v. McIntosh, Cherokee v. Georgia, Worcester v. Georgia—that would confirm the powers that the U.S. government had unilaterally taken upon itself and spell out the legal arrangement that tribes were to be allowed. 1823. Johnson v. McIntosh. The court decided that private citizens could not purchase land directly from Indians. Since all land in the boundaries of America belonged to the federal government by right of discovery, Native people could sell their land only to the U.S. government. Indians had the right of occupancy, but they did not hold legal title to their lands. 1831. Cherokee v. Georgia. The State of Georgia attempted to extend state laws to the Cherokee nation. The Cherokee argued that they were a foreign nation and therefore not subject to the laws of Georgia. The court held that Indian tribes were not sovereign, independent nations but domestic, dependent nations. 1832. Worcester v. Georgia. This case was a follow-up to Cherokee v. Georgia. Having determined that the Cherokee were a domestic, dependent nation, the court settled the matter of jurisdiction, ruling that the responsibility to regulate relations with Native nations was the exclusive prerogative of Congress and the federal government. These three cases unilaterally redefined relationships between Whites and Indians in America. Native nations were no longer sovereign nations. Indians were reduced to the status of children and declared wards of the state. And with these decisions, all Indian land within America now belonged to the federal government. While these rulings had legal standing only in the United States, Canada would formalize an identical relationship with Native people a little later in 1876 with the passage of the Indian Act. Now it was official. Indians in all of North America were property.

A woman is a worthy wight, she serveth a man both day and night, Gil thought, and did not glance at Alys. How did it go on? And yet she hath but care and wo,

He got to his feet, and laughed suddenly, without humour. ‘I recall Pierre complaining that Scotland is by far too full of strong-minded women. He was right there.

Socrates padded across the chamber to sit down beside Alys, gazing airily into the distance, his soft ears flicking at the little sounds she made dealing with her wedge of pie.

Part of the human condition, the very stuff that makes us what we are, is our ability to be distracted.

Admittedly, that isn’t a perfect solution, but then, this isn’t a perfect world. And it will work most of the time.

it is possible to read the same passage in at least four different ways: literally, figuratively, morally, and anagogically

Words by themselves, or in context, will do as much to hamper understanding as they do to advance it as long as the people using them do not have the same knowledge, background, and brain power.

Our future is held hostage by near term needs.

My sense of fairness works against anticipating something for nothing".

Sex is fundamentally driven by a desire for immortality.

I love the notion that the spirit can show immeasurable strength, that faith in something can make one achieve what feels like the impossible...that magic just might exist.

To Jane it felt in that heartbeat that she was witnessing every good thing that could happen to a person: sunlight, warmth, safety, sensual pleasure, emotional delight, and an inexplicable joy that comes with the happiness of knowing you love this person and that you are loved in return.

I want to grow old with a man I love. Isn't that what the great tapestry of life is about...the many threads of love? The relationships that weave their way into the future to form the lives we live?

Live is all about decisions. Every minute of the day we make decisions, some of them minute, others more daunting, but each leads us to where we find ourselves from that moment on.

Now onto the filling! Ingredients 2 tablespoons unsalted butter 4 pounds apples, peeled, cored, and sliced into ¼-inch thick wedges (I like to use a mixture of mostly Cortland and McIntosh apples, with 1 or 2 Granny Smith thrown in for tartness and texture) ¾ cup sugar 2 tablespoons cornstarch 1 teaspoon cinnamon ½ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg 1 egg white, for the crust bottom Instructions

Ein ewiges rätsel will ich bleiben mir und anderen

Nietzsche was born a man. He hoped to become a Superman. The philosopher Emil Cioran was born a Romanian. He hoped to become a Frenchman. I was born with a predisposition to abuse painkillers. I wished I was a Pharmacist.

God’s Song I am the amoeba swimming in pond water. I am the elephant stepping gently on huge feet. I am the whale that sings its song seven fathoms deep. I am the chickadee with dark bright eye. I am the hawk rising swift on currents of wind. I am the tiger stalking its prey. I am the platypus, most confused of all animals. I am the wild goose flying on strong winds. I am the rabbit, fleet of foot and timid of heart. I am the minnow, darting in shallow water; the tadpole transforming into something new; the caterpillar never dreaming of wings; the butterfly that speaks to you of resurrection; the cat curled in your lap; the spider spinning her web; the cow, patient servant of humanity; and the cricket, singing its autumn song. I am the breath of each one. I am the Spirit in each. Look. I am everywhere you turn, if you only had eyes to see.

Before undertaking any significant new venture, the thoughtful person will assess the state of his spiritual life and consider what God expects from him in the days to come.

By walking, life is slowed down to a pace in which there is the time to notice. To really notice. There is the quality of time to pay attention to the snow, the trees, the animals, the wind and sunlight. Paying attention to all of these gifts of abundance makes people brim full in their hearts with gratitude and respect.

is what the Life-Giver says: “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it,  and you will find rest for your souls.” —JEREMIAH

If impostor syndrome were merely a matter of confidence or upbringing, says Wellesley Centers for Women senior researcher Dr. Peggy McIntosh, you would feel fraudulent in all aspects of your life. Instead, the places where women are most apt to feel incompetent and illegitimate are in the public spheres of power and authority

I would tax unaccountable private land ownership through land value taxation, and use the proceeds to finance community buyouts. Unless they serve community in ways that local communities want, get the lairds to finance their own clearance!

It is not unkind to say that the ingrownness of many congregations is the antithesis of the Great Commission to make disciples.

We cannot cause growth; we can only create a climate in which growth can take place.

If we don’t meet people’s felt needs, we will never meet their real needs.

However, because ambition is easily disguised in Christian circles and couched in spiritual language (the need to fulfill the Great Commission and expand the church), the dysfunctions that drive Christian leaders often go undetected and unchallenged until it is too late.

were now;

I loved them too and while you might lay a greater claim to them, I defy you to miss your wife any more than I’ll miss my best friend or your child, who was every inch a son to me.

Dr. Peggy McIntosh from the Wellesley Centers for Women, gave a talk called “Feeling Like a Fraud.”1 She explained that many people, but especially women, feel fraudulent when they are praised for their accomplishments.

She’ll be buried

The heaviest thing is an empty heart.

Not enough church leaders understand and practice visionary strategic planning. According to an article in American Demographics, Gary McIntosh of the American Society for Church Growth estimates that only 20 percent of America’s 367,000 congregations actively pursue strategic planning. In the same article, George Hunter, professor of evangelism and church growth at Asbury Theological Seminary, warns that churches without plans for growth invariably stagnate.[13]

The mind always found its way back to baseline.

The profile’s the key, the absolute key to modern dating. If you can get quality people to look at your profile, it becomes a numbers game. The more views, the more hits. The more hits, the more the odds climb that you’ll find a compatible mate.

She had nine hundred thirty-one viewers at the moment. Another sixty-nine, and sponsorships would kick in.

This is the future,” Lycan said. “Connecting people to each other directly.

Right leg gone? Her right leg? She couldn’t see anything except the man hanging over and a gold-coloured ceiling, high, high above. “This is a hospital?” she asked. “No, no. A dating centre.

What?" The dread in her tone told Rob she knew what. "How much longer?" "Thirty seconds." She laughed with a panicked urgency. "I just tried to nod. I can't feel my body, but I keep reaching for it, you know?" Rob nodded, feeling guilty he was able to. "How about this? I'll just tell you when I'm nodding, or shaking my head, or punching you." "Oh, no," Rob laughed, "are you planning on punching me often?" "We'll see." Rob couldn't help glancing at the timer, though he knew it would only make Winter more aware of what was about to happen. Seven seconds. "I keep expecting this to get easier, taht it will start to feel as if I'm going to sleep. But it doesn't. Maybe it's not possible to get used to dying." Rob reached out to comfort her, then remembered it was forbidden and drew back. If not for the surveillance, Rob would have reached under the silver cover and taken her hand, cold and stiff as it would have been.

The keynote speaker, Dr. Peggy McIntosh from the Wellesley Centers for Women, gave a talk called “Feeling Like a Fraud.”1 She explained that many people, but especially women, feel fraudulent when they are praised for their accomplishments. Instead of feeling worthy of recognition, they feel undeserving and guilty, as if a mistake has been made. Despite being high achievers, even experts in their fields, women can’t seem to shake the sense that it is only a matter of time until they are found out for who they really are—impostors with limited skills or abilities.

I'd noticed it because it was so weirdly out of place, a defiant crimson McIntosh in an army of dull green Granny Smiths.

said, pointing Kirin to a line on his ledger. ‘Evening meal’s

Annis.

willing to give it a try. “What

Teams need both leadership and management. Popular author Stephen R. Covey explains: Leadership deals with direction—with making sure that the ladder is leaning against the right wall. Management deals with speed. To double one’s speed in the wrong direction, however, is the very definition of foolishness. Leadership deals with vision—with keeping the mission in sight—and with effectiveness and results. Management deals with establishing structure and systems to get those results. It focuses on efficiency, cost-benefit analyses, logistics, methods, procedures, and policies.[6]

Auren Uris, a highly respected researcher and writer in the fields of human resources and management, supports the importance of small teams. He writes, “There is growing evidence that the most creative problemsolving or decisionmaking will occur in small, odd-numbered groups (5, 7, 9).” He advises, “If you want originality and creative contributions, . . . keep the group small. Five people is the number many researchers suggest for optimum efficiency, freedom of exchange and cooperation.”[5]

how many schools operate on a ‘no grades, just comments’ basis,

the ‘no hands up (unless you have a question)’ rule?