Mixed Reactions Quotes

Leo gestured to the empty core. “The syncopator goes here. It’s a multi-access gyro-valve to regulate flow. The dozen glass tubes on the outside? Those are filled with powerful, dangerous stuff. That glowing red one is Lemnos fire from my dad’s forges. This murky stuff here? That’s water from the River Styx. The stuff in the tubes is going to power the ship, right? Like radioactive rods in a nuclear reactor. But the mix ratio has to be controlled, and the timer is already operational.” Leo tapped the digital clock, which now read 65:15. “That means without the syncopator, this stuff is all going to vent into the chamber at the same time, in sixty-five minutes. At that point, we’ll get a very nasty reaction.” Jason and Piper stared at him. Leo wondered if he’d been speaking English. Sometimes when he was agitated he slipped into Spanish, like his mom used to do in her workshop. But he was pretty sure he’d used English.

Matt?" "Yeah?" "You okay?" "Working on it." His voice sounded unusually tight. "I thought you said you did this a lot." "Yeah. I do. But apparently not with anyone I'm wildly attracted to." This caused certain reactions in her body that were best not experienced in mixed company. "It's just panties," she finally whispered. "And they're really great panties," Matt agreed. "But it's not the panties, Amy. It's you.

Harmony is our natural state of being, and so, when our energies become too stagnant, chaos is thrown into the mix to stimulate what will eventually result in balance and invite flow. The trick is to not let chaos trap or define you… simply allow it to create movement in the vehicle of your life so that you can snap your eyes open and take back control of the wheel. Do not lose yourself in the storm, instead, be the calm in the storm.

There's your problem," Leo announced. Jason scratched his head. "Uh.... what are we looking at?" Leo thought it was pretty obvious, but Piper looked confused too. "Okay," Leo sighed, " you want the full explanation or the short explanation?" "Short," Piper and Jason said in unison. Leo gestured to the empty core. "The syncopator goes here. It's a multi-access gyro-valve to regulate flow. The doxen glass tubes on the outside? Those are filled with powerful,dangerous stuff. That glowing red one is Lemnos fire from my dad's forges. This murky stuff here? That's water from the River Styx. The stuff in the tubes is going to power the ship, right? Like radioactive rods in a nuclear reactor. But the mix ratio has to be controlled, and the timer is already operational.... That means without the syncopator, this stuff is all going to vent into the chamber at the same time, in sixty-five minutes. At that point, we'll get a very nasty reaction." Jason and Piper stared at him. Leo wondered if he'd been speaking English. Sometimes when he was agitated he slipped into Spanish, like his mom used to do in her workshop. But he was pretty sure he'd used English. "Um..." Piper cleared her throat." Could you make the short explanation shorter?" Leo palm-smacked his forehead. "Fine. One hour. Fluids mix. Bunker goes ka-boom. One square mile of forest tuns into a smoking crater." "Oh," Piper said in a small voice. "Can't you just..... turn it off?" "Gee, I didn't think of that!" Leo said. "Let me just hit this switch and - No, Piper. I can't turn it off.

The reason a lot of women can't move on from a relationship or people they love is because they need to know why. Why did this happen? Why did you do this? Why don't you care? Why did you hurt me? Why do you believe this about me? Why did you send me mixed signals? Why are these other people in your life acting like you care? Men have it all wrong. Insecurity is not why a lot of women don't let go. Women have a difficult time letting go because men don't communicate why at the level that women require. They don't back up their words with actions that are not confusing or could be misinterrupted as something else. Until, men learn that their actions and their friends and families reactions can create a questionable doubt about how they feel, they will forever have to deal with the drama they create for themselves.

Everywhere, words are mixing. Words and lyrics and dialogue are mixing in a soup that could trigger a chain reaction. Maybe acts of God are just the right combination of media junk thrown out into the air. The wrong words collide and call up an earthquake. The way rain dances called storms, the right combination of words might call down tornadoes. Too many advertising jingles commingling could be behind global warming. Too many television reruns bouncing around might cause hurricanes. Cancer. AIDS.

Olive later said her release provoked mixed reactions from the rest of the tribe.

Listen to me very carefully, and think hard about what happens if you go over my head to do something for me that you think is right. What is my normal reaction?” Gabe slumps slightly. “Not favourable?

I can control what happens in the chemistry lab. There's a formula and an equation, and I know exactly what the reaction will be when I mix one thing with another. Life, not so much. Love, not at all. No matter what elements you combine, you really have no idea what happens next. It's scary not knowing what comes next. But not knowing might also be the best part.

Nothing burns one up faster than the affects of ressentiment. Anger, pathological vulnerability, impotent lust for revenge, thirst for revenge, poison-mixing in any sense—no reaction could be more disadvantageous for the exhausted: such affects involve a rapid consumption of nervous energy, a pathological increase of harmful excretions—for example, of the gall bladder into the stomach. Ressentiment is what is forbidden par excellence for the sick—it is their specific evil—unfortunately also their most natural inclination.

The ability to feel mixed emotions is a sign of maturity. If people can blend contradictory emotions together, such as happiness with guilt, or anger with love, it shows that they can encompass life’s emotional complexity. Experienced together, opposing feelings tame each other. Once people develop the ability to feel different emotions at the same time, the world ripens into something richer and deeper. Instead of having a single, intense, one-dimensional emotional reaction, they can experience several different feelings that reflect the nuances of the situation.

How could human behaviour be described? Surely only by showing the actions of a variety of humans, as they are all mixed up together. Not what one man is doing now, but the whole hurly-burly, is the background against which we see an action, and it determines our judgment, our concepts, and our reactions.

Remember that, in any encounter, the only thing you can control is your own actions and reactions. You cannot dictate the actions of the other person, or in this case, the horse, but you can often send the right signals to get what you want. If you are often baffled by the reactions others have to you, it is probably because you are unaware of the silent signals you send through your posture, your facial gestures, your tone of voice, the amount of personal space you maintain, and so forth. Ever wondered why people don't listen when you try to assert yourself, or why people back away when you're trying to be friendly, or why you're never the one people seek out in a crowded room? Body language. Silent signals. Mixed signals. The trick is to focus outward, not inward.

Calvin clears his throat. “Do you have anything to drink?” Booze. Right. This is the perfect situation for some booze. I jump up, and he laughs, awkwardly. “I should have thought to get champagne or something.” “You bought the dinner,” I remind him. “Obviously the champagne was on my list and I dropped the ball.” Pulling a bottle of vodka from the freezer, I set it on the counter and then realize I have nothing to mix it with. And I finished the last beer the other night. “I have vodka.” He smiles valiantly. “Straight-up vodka it is.” “It’s Stoli.” “Straight-up mediocre vodka it is,” he amends with a cheeky wink. His phone buzzes, and it sets off a weird, giddy reaction in my chest. We both have full lives beyond this apartment, which remain complete mysteries to each other. One difference between us is that Calvin likely doesn’t care about my life outside of this. Yet I care intensely about his. Having him here feels like finding the key to unlock a mysterious chest that’s been sitting in the corner of my bedroom for a year. Buzz. Buzz. Looking up, I meet his eyes. They’re wide, almost as if he’s not sure whether to answer. “You can get it,” I assure him. “It’s okay.” His face darkens with a flush. “I . . . don’t think I should.” “It’s your phone! Of course it’s okay to answer it.” “It’s not . . .” Buzz. Buzz. Unless, maybe, it’s some Mafia drug lord and if he answers his ruse is up and I’ll kick him out. Or—gasp—maybe it’s a girlfriend calling? Why had this not occurred to me? Buzz. Buzz. “Oh my God. Do you have a girlfriend?” He looks horrified. “What? Of course not.” Buzz. Buzz. Holy shit, how long until his voicemail puts us out of our misery? “. . . Boyfriend?” “I don’t—” he starts, smiling through a wince. “It’s not.” “ ‘Not’?” “My phone isn’t ringing.” I stare at him, bewildered. His blush deepens. “It’s not a phone.” When he says this, I know he’s right. It doesn’t have the right rhythm to be a phone. I lift the vodka to my lips and chug straight from the bottle. The buzzing has the exact rhythm of my vibrator . . . the one I tucked beneath that cushion on the couch days ago. I’m going to need to be pretty drunk to deal with this.

Perhaps, but this Awakening felt very different from those in the past. A peculiar sensation seemed to spread throughout his body, propelled by the very beating of his heart. Within his veins, lycan blood mixed with his own, merging in an unexpected alchemical reaction. He felt a change come over him, a fundamental transformation in his very nature. Power such as he had never known surged through his veins. His eyes snapped open, revealing a pair of jet-black orbs. Hybrid eyes.

A predator’s intention…… It is my intention to cause you fear such as you have never known. It is my desire to take your fear to a whole new level of terror. I can smell your fear as its sweet scent flows through my universe. This small universe that I have created and am permitting you to exist in. I say these things because you only exist right now because I have allowed it, for if I should choose, I could snuff you out as if extinguishing a candle flame. I will make you thank me later for allowing you to breathe. I will mix you a concoction of fear, pain, uncertainty, and arousal, such as you have never known. You see my curious little prey these all create very similar physical reactions. My little prey… they have common traits on the emotional side too. Curious prey, curious prey, let me growl my intentions into your curious ear. I will keep you in a constant state of fear, pain, uncertainty, and arousal. I know exactly what I am doing; I am a skilled and professional predator. It is my full intention to own you! I will keep you in a constant emotional whirlpool. This is the universe of my making, and you exist in it by my power, and by my choice. I want you in a constant state of fear, physical discomfort, pain, uncertainty, and arousal. I am purposely blurring the lines between your emotions, and your physical sensations. As I do this… I am creating a desire and a craving within you to be man handled and taken by me. I am intentionally working you into a state of intense arousal, and desperation. I am conditioning you to crave your new life as my prey…

Maybe it was the alcohol. Yeah. That’s probably what it was. The booze must have mixed with the romance in the air and turned him soft. But then, if that’s all it was, why did his stomach sink to the floor at her reaction? Did he really want to marry her? He looked

Is this flesh of yours you? Or is it an extraneous something possessed by you? Your body—what is it? A machine for converting stimuli into reactions. Stimuli and reactions are remembered. They constitute experience. Then you are in your consciousness these experiences. You are at any moment what you are thinking at that moment. Your I is both subject and object; it predicates things of itself and is the things predicated. The thinker is the thought, the knower is what is known, the possessor is the things possessed. "After all, as you know well, man is a flux of states of consciousness, a flow of passing thoughts, each thought of self another self, a myriad thoughts, a myriad selves, a continual becoming but never being, a will-of-the-wisp flitting of ghosts in ghostland. But this, man will not accept of himself. He refuses to accept his own passing. He will not pass. He will live again if he has to die to do it. "He shuffles atoms and jets of light, remotest nebulae, drips of water, prick-points of sensation, slime-oozings and cosmic bulks, all mixed with pearls of faith, love of woman, imagined dignities, frightened surmises, and pompous arrogances, and of the stuff builds himself an immortality to startle the heavens and baffle the immensities. He squirms on his dunghill, and like a child lost in the dark among goblins, calls to the gods that he is their younger brother, a prisoner of the quick that is destined to be as free as they—monuments of egotism reared by the epiphenomena; dreams and the dust of dreams, that vanish when the dreamer vanishes and are no more when he is not.

What happens when you attempt to mix half-baked Freudianism with an older, incompatible philosophy is that you wind up with a potentially explosive chemical reaction. The demiurge of superego gets its “liberation,” but the devil of the id is denied its due. And when the id starts to rumble and grumble, there's a corresponding clampdown from the superego. As the darker impulses take over, over time, sexual abuse becomes part of the unofficial curriculum. And since sexual abuse leads to trauma, is it any real surprise if trauma is reframed—whether by early Fabian “evolutionary socialists” or by today's spiritual spokes-people (such as Esalen-biographer Jeffrey Kripal or LSE-student Whitley Strieber2)—as a means to access the divine and accelerate evolution?

The typical smell from skin-on pork belly is completely erased by the spices used. All that reaches the tongue... are the mild sweetness of the fats and the zesty richness of the curry!" "It's amazingly delicious!" "After I parboiled, seasoned and pan seared the pork belly... I braised it in a mixture of oyster sauce, soy sauce, Shaoxing wine and other seasonings. I gave it its fragrance with star anise, ginger and Sichuan pepper." Strange. The meat is incredibly heavy and filling... yet this dish is so easy to eat! Why? "IT'S THE RICE! Now I see! She mixed a dash of rock salt and Sichuan-peppercorn oil into the rice! The refreshing scent and tongue-tingling flavor of the peppercorn oil ameliorates the oiliness of the fats... ... but its spiciness makes you want another bite of the sweet meat... it's a chain reaction!

Schnall’s strong reaction to the failed replication of her own work provoked a mixed reaction from the psychological community. While many psychologists were bewildered by her response, a number of prominent US psychologists voiced support for her position. Dan Gilbert from Harvard University likened Schnall’s battle to the plight of Rosa Parks, and he referred to some psychologists who conducted or supported replications as “bullies,” “replication police,” “second stringers,” McCarthyists, and “god’s chosen soldiers in a great jihad.” Others accused the so-called replicators of being “Nazis,” “fascists,” and “mafia.” Rather than viewing replication as an intrinsic part of best scientific practice, Gilbert and his supporters framed it as a threat to the reputation of the (presumably brilliant) researchers who publish irreproducible findings, stifling their creativity and innovation

Time: 0529:45. The firing circuit closed; the X-unit discharged; the detonators at thirty-two detonation points simultaneously fired; they ignited the outer lens shells of Composition B; the detonation waves separately bulged, encountered inclusions of Baratol, slowed, curved, turned inside out, merged to a common inward-driving sphere; the spherical detonation wave crossed into the second shell of solid fast Composition B and accelerated; hit the wall of dense uranium tamper and became a shock wave and squeezed, liquefying, moving through; hit the nickel plating of the plutonium core and squeezed, the small sphere shrinking, collapsing into itself, becoming an eyeball; the shock wave reaching the tiny initiator at the center and swirling through its designed irregularities to mix its beryllium and polonium; polonium alphas kicking neutrons free from scant atoms of beryllium: one, two, seven, nine, hardly more neutrons drilling into the surrounding plutonium to start the chain reaction.

Chemistry was transformed by glass perhaps more than any other discipline. You only have to go to any chemistry lab to see that the transparency and inertness of the material make it perfect for mixing chemicals and monitoring what they do. Before the glass test tube was born, chemical reactions were performed in opaque beakers, so it was hard to see what was happening. With glass, and especially with a new glass called Pyrex that was immune to thermal shock, chemistry as a systematic discipline really got going.

However, ana al-haqq as it stands has raised a few literary questions as well and, within the tradition of mystic poetry, the attitude preserved in Hallaj's expression has given rise to mixed reactions regarding its content. It is held that it is an exaggeration of subjective experience, and ana—the personal "I"—shows leanings toward megalomania and egotism. It is the personal "I" which overshadows al-haqq, and thereby invites total attention to itself. In fact, the personal "I" absorbs al-haqq, and reaches out to the romantic cult of the egostistical sublime. In this context, the truth tends to become subjective and, therefore, relative, and in its social implications it shows the possibility of numerous diversions. Extreme individualism, in contrast to institutionalism, is also held to be related to ana al-haqq. The personal "I" is supposed to be potentionally explosive and destructive for values of the Establishment. A.J. Arberry has summed up the position by saying that Hallaj had dared to declare that his direct awareness of God was for him a clearer proof than both revelation and reason.

My first reaction was that someone had fused a person and a deer together. The creature had a head and shoulders and arms that were more or less where they should have been, though the skin was a pale shade of blue. But below that he had fur, a mix of blue and tan, covering a four-legged body that really did look like it belonged to a deer, or maybe a small horse. He ducked his head out the doorway and I could see that even the fairly normal-looking parts of him weren’t all that normal. For a start, he had no mouth, just three vertical slits. And then there were his eyes. Two of them were where they should have been, although they were a glittery green color that was kind of shocking. But the real shock was the other eyes. He had what seemed like horns, only on the top of each horn was an eye. The horns could move, twisting to point the eyes front and back or up and down. I thought the eyes were bad, until I saw the tail. It was like a scorpion’s tail, thick and powerful-looking. On the end was a wickedly curved, very sharp-looking horn or stinger.

Everyone is free to create his world as he wants it if he knows that the whole thing is responding to him. In Luke 13 we are told the story of five Galileans who have been murdered by Pilate. ‘And he mixed their blood with their offering, etc.’And the central figure of the gospels which is your awakened Imagination says to his followers; ‘Do you think these five were worse sinners than the others? I tell you ‘No.’ But unless you repent you will all likewise perish in the same manner.’Here on one level we think it served them right, just as those who saw the scene on the Sunset Blvd. would say ‘It served her right cutting across the street like that!’ In this story in Luke we are told that a man sinned in the past and was murdered by Pilate. It has nothing to do with it. Then Jesus asked them, ‘Do you think that the eighteen upon whom the tower in Siloam fell and killed them were worse offenders than the others who dwell in Jerusalem? I tell you, No; but unless you repent you will all likewise perish. On this level of the dream people think of getting even. It is a dream of confusion and people are reactivating, but man has to awaken and become an actor. On this present level man is always reflecting life, not knowing he is the cause of all he observes. But when he awakens from the dream and then becomes an actor. What percentage would have done what this lady in the car did? They would have reacted, or feasted on the fruit of the tree of good and evil. They would have had a violent reaction, and then they would have had a violent resistance from this dead universe. But this lady makes her dream and the whole thing comes to pass exactly as she pictured it, even to the number of blocks. You might almost think she had manufactured that little old lady in gray, but I tell you everything comes in response to our own wonderful imaginal activity. You can be anything in this world but you cannot know it or expect it to come unless you Act. If you react based on the past, you continue in the same pattern. To be the man you desire to be you must create the scene, as this lady did, and the whole world will be convulsed if that is necessary to bring it to pass. There is no other power but God, but God had to ‘forget’ he was God in this state of sleep, and then He awakens and consciously determines the conditions he wants in the world.

Hilda argued that our fate is more likely determined by what she called our “unique environment”—the one we do not share with anyone, not even our siblings. It is the environment we seek out and create for ourselves, for example, when we find something which delights and fascinates us and drives us in a certain direction. Rather like Blomkvist’s reaction as a young boy, perhaps, when he saw the film All the President’s Men and was struck by a strong urge to become a journalist. Heredity and environment interact constantly, Hilda wrote. We seek out occurrences and activities which stimulate our genes and make them flourish, and we avoid things which frighten us or make us uncomfortable. She based her conclusions on a series of studies, among others MISTRA, the Minnesota Study of Twins Reared Apart, and investigations by the Swedish Twin Registry at the Karolinska Institute. Identical twins, or so-called monozygotic twins, with their essentially indistinguishable sets of genes, are ideal subjects. Thousands of twins, both identical and fraternal, grow up apart from each other, either because one or both have been adopted, or, more rarely, as the result of some unfortunate mix-up in a maternity ward.

I’ve made myself into the character of a book, a life one reads. Whatever I feel is felt (against my will) so that I can write that I felt it. Whatever I think is promptly put into words, mixed with images that undo it, cast into rhythms that are something else altogether. From so much self-revising, I’ve destroyed myself. From so much self-thinking, I’m now my thoughts and not I. I plumbed myself and dropped the plumb; I spend my life wondering if I’m deep or not, with no remaining plumb except my gaze that shows me – blackly vivid in the mirror at the bottom of the well – my own face that observes me observing it. I’m like a playing card belonging to an old and unrecognizable suit – the sole survivor of a lost deck. I have no meaning, I don’t know my worth, there’s nothing I can compare myself with to discover what I am, and to make such a discovery would be of no use to anyone. And so, describing myself in image after image – not without truth, but with lies mixed in – I end up more in the images than in me, stating myself until I no longer exist, writing with my soul for ink, useful for nothing except writing. But the reaction ceases, and again I resign myself. I go back to whom I am, even if it’s nothing. And a hint of tears that weren’t cried makes my stiff eyes burn; a hint of anguish that wasn’t felt gets caught in my dry throat. But I don’t even know what I would have cried over, if I’d cried, nor why it is that I didn’t cry over it. The fiction follows me, like my shadow. And what I want is to sleep.

If men brought their hearts together beyond a certain degree, if they were intent upon making their hearts one, did not a reaction set in after that brief fantasy had passed, a reaction that was more than simply alienation? Did it not inevitably provoke a betrayal that led to complete dissolution? Perhaps there was some unwritten law of human nature that clearly proscribed covenants among men. Had he impudently violated such a proscription? In ordinary human relationships, good and evil, trust and mistrust appear in impure form, mixed together in small portions. But when men gather together to form a group devoted to a purity not of this world, their evil may remain, purged from each member but coalesced to form a single pure crystal. Thus in the midst of a collection of pure white gems, perhaps it was inevitable that one gem black as pitch could also be found. If one took this concept a bit further, one encountered an extremely pessimistic line of thought: the substance of evil was to be found more in blood brotherhoods by their very nature than in betrayal. Betrayal was something that was derived from this evil, but the evil was rooted in the blood brotherhood itself. The purest evil that human efforts could attain, in other words, was probably achieved by those men who made their wills the same and who made their eyes see the world in the same way, men who went against the pattern of life’s diversity, men whose spirit shattered the natural wall of the individual body, making nothing of this barrier set up to guard against mutual corrosion, men whose spirit accomplished what flesh could never accomplish. Collaboration and cooperation were weak terms bound up with anthropology. But blood brotherhood . . . that was a matter of eagerly joining one’s spirit to the spirit of another. This in itself showed a bright scorn for the futile, laborious human process in which ontogeny was eternally recapitulating phylogeny, in which man forever tried to draw a bit closer to truth only to be frustrated by death, a process that had ever to begin again in the sleep within the amniotic fluid. By betraying this human condition the blood brotherhood tried to gain its purity, and thus it was perhaps but to be expected that it, in turn, should of its very nature incur its own betrayal. Such men had never respected humanity.

If men brought their hearts together beyond a certain degree, if they were intent upon making their hearts one, did not a reaction set in after that brief fantasy had passed, a reaction that was more than simply alienation? Did it not inevitably provoke a betrayal that led to complete dissolution? Perhaps there was some unwritten law of human nature that clearly proscribed covenants among men. Had he impudently violated such a proscription? In ordinary human relationships, good and evil, trust and mistrust appear in impure form, mixed together in small portions. But when men gather together to form a group devoted to a purity not of this world, their evil may remain, purged from each member but coalesced to form a single pure crystal. Thus in the midst of a collection of pure white gems, perhaps it was inevitable that one gem black as pitch could also be found. If one took this concept a bit further, one encountered an extremely pessimistic line of thought: the substance of evil was to be found more in blood brotherhoods by their very nature than in betrayal. Betrayal was something that was derived from this evil, but the evil was rooted in the blood brotherhood itself. The purest evil that human efforts could attain, in other words, was probably achieved by those men who made their wills the same and who made their eyes see the world in the same way, men who went against the pattern of life’s diversity, men whose spirit shattered the natural wall of the individual body, making nothing of this barrier set up to guard against mutual corrosion, men whose spirit accomplished what flesh could never accomplish. Collaboration and cooperation were weak terms bound up with anthropology. But blood brotherhood . . . that was a matter of eagerly joining one’s spirit to the spirit of another. This in itself showed a bright scorn for the futile, laborious human process in which ontogeny was eternally recapitulating phylogeny, in which man forever tried to draw a bit closer to truth only to draw a bit closer to truth only to be frustrated by death, a process that had ever to begin again in the sleep within the amniotic fluid. By betraying this human condition the blood brotherhood tried to gain its purity, and thus it was perhaps but to be expected that it, in turn, should of its very nature incur its own betrayal. Such men had never respected humanity.

While iron oxide makes up over 6% of the Earth’s crust, it took a long time for mankind to figure out how to convert dirt into something as useful as steel. The first smelting of iron from ore was probably accidental when some iron-bearing ore was mixed in with the copper ore during the smelting of copper. Iron ore is composed mostly of various iron oxides which need to be reduced – have oxygen removed – to form metallic iron. The iron ore was mixed with charcoal, which is mostly carbon, and fired. The carbon dioxide produced by burning charcoal combines with the hot carbon in the charcoal, forming carbon monoxide. The hot carbon monoxide turns again to carbon dioxide by stealing oxygen from – reducing – the iron oxides, leaving metallic iron behind. But the heat needed for melting copper isn’t nearly sufficient to melt the iron that may be present in the copper ore. The reaction from ore to iron occurs while in a solid state when the iron forms into a solid, ugly mass of spongy metal called a bloom. The bloom’s cavities were full of slag (molten impurities from the smelting) that needed to be removed. Someone must have recognized the spongy mass as a metallic substance, probably by using appropriate scientific methodology such as hitting it with a rock. Eventually, the bloom was processed by heating it to the slag’s melting point and hammering on it until all of the slag had squirted out. This would be hard, dangerous and resource-intensive work as the iron was reheated and beaten over and over to produce wrought iron. This process was the way iron was made from late B.C. to early A.D.

I had made the unwise decision to have my old clothes bagged and wear my fancy new finds home, so that I could debut my new look to the world at large. The reaction had been mixed at best, but often Tyne and wear was unable to keep up with my style savvy, so I didn't let it dishearten me.

Each tribe’s solution to its central problem is a brilliant, hard-won advance. But the true Master Algorithm must solve all five problems, not just one. For example, to cure cancer we need to understand the metabolic networks in the cell: which genes regulate which others, which chemical reactions the resulting proteins control, and how adding a new molecule to the mix would affect the network. It would be silly to try to learn all of this from scratch, ignoring all the knowledge that biologists have painstakingly accumulated over the decades. Symbolists know how to combine this knowledge with data from DNA sequencers, gene expression microarrays, and so on, to produce results that you couldn’t get with either alone. But the knowledge we obtain by inverse deduction is purely qualitative; we need to learn not just who interacts with whom, but how much, and backpropagation can do that. Nevertheless, both inverse deduction and backpropagation would be lost in space without some basic structure on which to hang the interactions and parameters they find, and genetic programming can discover it. At this point, if we had complete knowledge of the metabolism and all the data relevant to a given patient, we could figure out a treatment for her. But in reality the information we have is always very incomplete, and even incorrect in places; we need to make headway despite that, and that’s what probabilistic inference is for. In the hardest cases, the patient’s cancer looks very different from previous ones, and all our learned knowledge fails. Similarity-based algorithms can save the day by seeing analogies between superficially very different situations, zeroing in on their essential similarities and ignoring the rest. In this book we will synthesize a single algorithm will all these capabilities:

All atomic nuclei are composed of two types of particles: protons and their electrically neutral partners, neutrons. If a nucleus has too many of one type or the other, then the rules of quantum mechanics dictate that the balance has to be redressed and those excess particles will change into the other form: protons will become neutrons, or neutrons protons, via a process called beta-decay. This is precisely what happens when two protons come together: a composite of two protons cannot exist and one of them will beta-decay into a neutron. The remaining proton and the newly transformed neutron can then bind together to form an object called a deuteron (the nucleus of an atom of the heavy hydrogen isotopefn3 called deuterium), after which further nuclear reactions enable the building of the more complex nuclei of other elements heavier than hydrogen, from helium (with two protons and either one or two neutrons) through to carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and so on. The key point is that the deuteron owes its existence to its ability to exist in two states simultaneously, by virtue of quantum superposition. This is because the proton and neutron can stick together in two different ways that are distinguished by how they spin. We will see later how this concept of ‘quantum spin’ is actually very different from the familiar spin of a big object, such as a tennis ball; but for now we will go with our classical intuition of a spinning particle and imagine both the proton and the neutron spinning together within the deuteron in a carefully choreographed combination of a slow, intimate waltz and a faster jive. It was discovered back in the late 1930s that within the deuteron these two particles are not dancing together in either one or the other of these two states, but in both states at the same time – they are in a blur of waltz and jive simultaneously – and it is this that enables them to bind together.fn4 An obvious response to this statement is: ‘How do we know?’ Surely, atomic nuclei are far too small to be seen, so might it not be more reasonable to assume that there is something missing in our understanding of nuclear forces? The answer is no, for it has been confirmed in many laboratories over and over again that if the proton and neutron were performing the equivalent of either a quantum waltz or a quantum jive, then the nuclear ‘glue’ between them would not be quite strong enough to bind them together; it is only when these two states are superimposed on top of each other – the two realities existing at the same time – that the binding force is strong enough. Think of the two superposed realities as a little like mixing two coloured paints, blue and yellow, to make a combined resultant colour, green. Although you know the green is made up of the two primary constituent colours, it is neither one nor the other. And different ratios of blue and yellow will make different shades of green. Likewise, the deuteron binds when the proton and neutron are mostly locked in a waltz, with just a tiny amount of jive thrown in. So

Some events can be seen as milestones only in retrospect, while at the time they pass almost unnoticed. This was not such an event. The court circular for January 28, 1988, spelled it out in black and white: Jephson was going to the Palace and an insistent inner voice told me his life would never be the same again. Reaction among my friends and relations was mixed. The American, Doug, thought it was a quaint English fairy tale. My father thought it inevitably meant promotion (he was wrong). My stepmother thought it was nice (she was mostly right). My brother thought it would make me an unbearably smug nuisance (no change). Although I would never have admitted it, I thought I must be pretty clever, and I apologize belatedly to everyone who had to witness it. That was lesson one: breathing royal air can seriously damage your ability to laugh at yourself. It is sometimes called “red-carpet fever” and usually only lasts a few months, but severe cases never recover and spend the rest of their lives believing in their own acquired importance.

Under certain conditions the blood cells would clump. Others had seen this reaction before while mixing the blood of animals and people or of sick patients with healthy ones; they assumed it was triggered by fundamental differences in the bloods of various species or between healthy and sick blood.

As I demonstrated this on Bob, he fell backwards onto me, completely inert and passive, with no hint of any reflexive reaction. Startled, I pushed him gently forward to the upright position, but now he started to topple forward; I could not balance him. I had a sense of bewilderment mixed with panic. For a moment, I thought that there had suddenly been a neurological catastrophe, that he had actually lost all his postural reflexes. Could acting like this, I wondered, actually alter the nervous system? The next day I was talking with him in his dressing room before the day’s shooting began, and as we talked, I noticed that his right foot was turned in with precisely the dystonic curvature it was held in when he portrayed Leonard L. on the set. I commented on this, and Bob seemed rather startled. “I didn’t realize,” he said. “I guess it’s unconscious.” He sometimes stayed in character for hours or days; he would make comments at dinner which belonged to Leonard, not himself, as if residues of the Leonard mind and character were still adhering to him.

Experiment with this—on such and such a day I slept so many hours and felt this way afterward. I ate x amount of food and was able to work for this long. In my forties my face began to line—science has told us this is the beginning of old age. How can the science that measures and combines and mixes and observes tell us what is behind the sleep?” Alexander laughed. “Ouspensky, science can measure how long we sleep, but can it tell us what we dreamed about? It will observe our reactions, it can tell if we twitched or laughed, or cried, but can it tell us what was inside our own head?

While Immelt said that he encouraged debate, meetings often lacked rigorous questioning. One executive recalled being in a board meeting in which Keith Sherin was presenting the quarterly financial results to the group. The Power business had missed badly, but little specific detail was provided on what went wrong. This executive braced for the reaction from the directors, but it never came—none of them asked what went wrong. When Flannery committed to renewing and shrinking the board of directors, it included half a dozen current or former CEOs, the former head of mutual fund giant Vanguard Group, the dean of New York University’s business school, as well as a former chair of the Securities and Exchange Commission. The seventeen independent directors got a mix of cash, stock, and other perks worth more than $300,000 a year. The terms had been even more generous when GE still made appliances; the company allowed directors to take home up to $30,000 worth of GE products in any three-year period. The company matched the directors’ gifts to charity, and upon leaving the board, a director could send $1 million in GE money to a charity. Some directors admitted to having been sold by Immelt’s sweeping optimism, even if they knew he wasn’t the best deal-maker. But they knew he had a hard job, was playing with a tough hand, and had survived multiple major crises. Plus, they liked him. Immelt said that he did his best to keep directors informed, noting that he required them to make trips to GE divisions on their own, but he also knew that the complexity of the business limited their input. As they’d done under Welch, the board usually tended to approve his recommendations and follow his lead. Some felt that Immelt manipulated the board, and it was whispered that members were chosen and educated to see the company through his visionary eyes. There was concern that the board didn’t entirely understand how GE worked, and that Immelt was just fine with that. Like many CEOs who are also their company’s chairman, he made sure that his board was aligned with him.

The transition was officially announced on 19 December. Hitler’s total usurpation of military command elicited a mixed reaction from his generals.

He met with people he trusted as well as political figures in the district to sound them out. Reactions were mixed—“ some pro, some con,” as he put it at the time. A couple other local Republicans were also considering the race and while Baker concluded that he could raise the money, he was warily watching the top of the ticket to see what impact it might have, most specifically whether Yarborough would draw a strong primary opponent, which Baker thought would bring out conservative voters.

Having such dry-run experiences will prepare your stakeholders for the reactions they might have,

His reaction looked very much like anger, with threatening gestures, raised voice, and a purple face. But his anger was triggered by apprehension and was mixed with hope that some good discipline might keep me from being so stupid again. It sure did! My point here is that every display of emotion needs to be judged in a wider context. A single label rarely suffices. To call my father's state "angry" fails to do it justice without also mentioning love and worry.

If religious fascisms are possible, one must address the potential—supreme irony—for fascism in Israel. Israeli reactions to the first and second intifada have been mixed. Israeli national identity has been powerfully associated with an affirmation of the human rights that were long denied to Jews in the Diaspora. This democratic tradition forms a barrier against “giving up free institutions” in the fight against Palestinian nationalism. It has been weakened, however, by two trends—the inevitable hardening of attitudes in the face of Palestinian intransigence, and a shift of weight within the Israeli population away from European Jews, the principal bearers of the democratic tradition, in favor of Jews from North Africa and elsewhere in the Near East who are indifferent to it. The suicide bombings of the second intifada after 2001 radicalized even many Israeli democrats to the right. By 2002, it was possible to hear language within the right wing of the Likud Party and some of the small religious parties that comes close to a functional equivalent to fascism. The chosen people begins to sound like a Master Race that claims a unique “mission in the world,” demands its “vital space,” demonizes an enemy that obstructs the realization of the people’s destiny, and accepts the necessity of force to obtain these ends.

Early on, advocates of big bang cosmology realized that the universe is evolutionary. In the words of one famous cosmologist, George Gamov, “We conclude that the relative abundances of atomic species represent the most ancient archaeological document pertaining to the history of the universe.” In other words, the periodic table is evidence of the evolution of matter, and atoms can testify to the history of the cosmos. But early versions of big bang cosmology held that all the elements of the universe were fused in one fell swoop. As Gamov puts it, “These abundances …” meaning the ratio of the elements (heaps of hydrogen, hardly any gold—that kind of thing), “… must have been established during the earliest stages of expansion, when the temperature of the primordial matter was still sufficiently high to permit nuclear transformations to run through the entire range of chemical elements.” It was a neat idea, but very wrong. Only hydrogen, helium, and a dash of lithium could have formed in the big bang. All of the elements heavier than lithium were made much later, by being fused in evolving and exploding stars. How do we know this? Because at the same time some scholars were working on the big bang theory, others were trying to ditch the big bang altogether. Its association with thermonuclear devices made it seem hasty, and its implied mysterious origins tainted it with creationism. And so, a rival camp of cosmologists developed an alternate theory: the Steady State. The Steady State held that the universe had always existed. And always will. Matter is created out of the vacuum of space itself. Steady State theorists, working against the big bang and its flaws, were obliged to wonder where in the cosmos the chemical elements might have been cooked up, if not in the first few minutes of the universe. Their answer: in the furnaces of the very stars themselves. They found a series of nuclear chain reactions at work in the stars. First, they discovered how fusion had made elements heavier than carbon. Then, they detailed eight fusion reactions through which stars convert light elements into heavy ones, to be recycled into space through stellar winds and supernovae. And so, it’s the inside of stars where the alchemist’s dream comes true. Every gram of gold began billions of years ago, forged out of the inside of an exploding star in a supernova. The gold particles lost into space from the explosion mixed with rocks and dust to form part of the early Earth. They’ve been lying in wait ever since.

The topic of motivation often comes up when dealing with the issue of follow-through on plans. Many adults with ADHD may aspire to achieve a goal (e.g., exercise) or get through an unavoidable obligation (e.g., exam, paying bills), but fall prey to an apparent lack of motivation, despite their best intentions. This situation reminds us of a quote attributed to the late fitness expert, Jack LaLanne, who at the age of 93 was quoted as saying, “I’m feeling great and I still have sex almost every day. Almost on Monday, almost on Tuesday . . .” Returning to the executive dysfunction view of ADHD, motivation is defined as the ability to generate an emotion about a task that promotes follow-through in the absence of immediate reward or consequence (and often in the face of some degree of discomfort in the short-term). Said differently, motivation is the ability to make yourself “feel like” doing the task when there is no pressing reason to do so. Thus, you will have to find a way to make yourself feel like exercising before you achieve the results you desire or feel like studying for a midterm exam that is still several days away. You “know” logically that these are good ideas, but it is negative feelings (including boredom) or lack of feelings about a task that undercut your attempts to get started. In fact, one of the common thinking errors exhibited by adults with ADHD when procrastinating is the magnification of emotional discomfort associated with starting a task usually coupled with a minimization of the positive feelings associated with it. Adults with ADHD experience the double whammy of having greater difficulty generating positive emotions (i.e., motivation) needed to get engaged in tasks and greater difficulty inhibiting the allure of more immediate distractions, including those that provide an escape from discomfort. In fairness, from a developmental standpoint, adults with ADHD have often experienced more than their fair share of frustrations and setbacks with regard to many important aspects of their lives. Hence, our experience has been that various life responsibilities and duties have become associated with a degree of stress and little perceived reward, which magnifies the motivational challenges already faced by ADHD adults. We have adopted the metaphor of food poisoning to illustrate how one’s learning history due to ADHD creates barriers to the pursuit of valued personal goals. Food poisoning involves ingesting some sort of tainted food. It is an adaptive response that your brain and digestive system notice the presence of a toxin in the body and react with feelings of nausea and rapid expulsion of said toxin through diarrhea, vomiting, or both. Even after you have fully recuperated and have figured out that you had food poisoning, the next time you encounter that same food item, even before it reaches your lips, the sight and smell of the food will reactivate protective feelings of nausea due to the previous association of the stimulus (i.e., the food) with illness and discomfort. You can make all the intellectual arguments about your safety, and obtain assurances that the food is untainted, but your body will have this initial aversive reaction, regardless. It takes progressive exposure to untainted morsels of the food (sometimes mixing it in with “safe” food, in extreme cases) in order to break the food poisoning association. Similarly, in the course of your efforts to establish and maintain good habits for managing ADHD, you will encounter some tasks that elicit discomfort despite knowing the value of the task at hand. Therefore, it is essential to be able to manufacture motivation, just enough of it, in order to be able to shift out of avoidance and to take a “taste” of the task that you are delaying.

Laughter itself is more often than not a vital abreaction to the disgust we feel for the monstrous mixing and promiscuity that confront us. But for all that we may gag on the absence of differentiation, it still fascinates us. We love to mix everything up, even if it simultaneously repels us. The reaction whereby the organism seeks to preserve its symbolic integrity is a vital one, even if the price paid is life itself (as in the rejection of a transplanted heart). Why would bodies not resist the arbitrary swapping of organs and cells? Also: why do cells, in cancer, refuse to carry out their assigned functions?

There is no God,' Oupensky repeated stubbornly. 'Majdanek, the communists, and science have shown us there is no God.' 'I cannot speak for the communists. Majdanek showed us only man's inhumanity to man--this is what man sometimes does with the free will God gave him. If God made all men good, it wouldn't be called free will would it? And finally it's not science's place to show us if there is a God behind the universe.' 'It absolutely is. What else is science for?' 'Experiments.' 'Yes?' 'Experiment with this-- on such and such a day I slept so many hours and felt this way afterward. I ate x amount of food and was able to work for this long. In my forties my face began to line-- science has told us this is the beginning of old age. How can the science that measures and combines and mixes and observes tell us what is behind the sleep?' Alexander laughed. 'Ouspensky, science can measure how long we sleep, but can it tell us what we dreamed about? It will observe our reactions, it can tell if we twitched or laughed, or cried, but can it tell us what was inside our head?' 'Why would it want to?' 'It can only report on the visible, on the ostensible, on the tangible. Science has no place inside my head, nor yours. How can it possible tell you if there is a God? It cannot tell me what even you are thinking about and you are as transparent as glass.

Observing this is like seeing a pinball machine game, bouncing from one impact to the other. It is a life of rebound and reaction - mixing comedy with tragedy - automation with the old spark of ignition or re-cognition. If there is no intervention there shall be chaos. If intervention is not subtle there will be madness. It is a procedure and process of caution and concise knowledge.

Part of making effective decisions boils down to dealing with reality. How do you make sure you’re dealing with reality when you’re making decisions? By not having a strong sense of self or judgments or mind presence. The “monkey mind” will always respond with this regurgitated emotional response to what it thinks the world should be. Those desires will cloud your reality. This happens a lot of times when people are mixing politics and business. The number one thing clouding us from being able to see reality is we have preconceived notions of the way it should be. One definition of a moment of suffering is “the moment when you see things exactly the way they are.” This whole time, you’ve been convinced your business is doing great, and really, you’ve ignored the signs it’s not doing well. Then, your business fails, and you suffer because you’ve been putting off reality. You’ve been hiding it from yourself. The good news is, the moment of suffering—when you’re in pain—is a moment of truth. It is a moment where you’re forced to embrace reality the way it actually is. Then, you can make meaningful change and progress. You can only make progress when you’re starting with the truth. The hard thing is seeing the truth. To see the truth, you have to get your ego out of the way because your ego doesn’t want to face the truth. The smaller you can make your ego, the less conditioned you can make your reactions, the less desires you can have about the outcome you want, the easier it will be to see the reality. What we wish to be true clouds our perception of what is true. Suffering is the moment when we can no longer deny reality.

I would also exercise caution when mixing SSRI antidepressants and microdoses of psilocybin because they both affect the serotonin system in the brain. While an adverse reaction combining SSRIs with a microdose isn’t likely according to Fadiman’s site, as we’ll discuss in Chapter 14, these kinds of antidepressants can lessen the effects of full-dose psychedelics and will likely do the same with microdoses.

Now you have the demand for chemical manufacturing or mixing. How do you decide which company is the best choice? Improper selection may lead to long delivery time, poor quality or waste of time and money. If you choose well, you will be surprised to find how much value your partner has added to your production process. 5 criteria for selecting the best chemical manufacturer These are some of the qualities and items looking at your chemical manufacturer: 1. Function First, you must know whether the manufacturer can complete the work. Depending on your product development level, this may mean simple mixing or a full range of services from R & D to transportation. Assuming you need a turnkey solution, the following are your considerations: Research capability: if your formulation requires some work, the ability of your chemical manufacturer in the R & D, laboratory scale and expansion stages will be crucial. It should help you determine whether a new product can be safely and successfully mass produced through testing, pilot batch and other methods. Handling capacity: the company should be able to react and handle a wide range of different chemicals, including green products and harmful substances. More importantly, it should be able to combine these into any necessary combination to deliver a customized end product. Logistics capacity: packaging, repackaging, private labeling and printing, marketing support and transportation are all important considerations. A manufacturer that can easily deal with all these problems is an incredible value-added, especially in the transportation of chemicals, which often requires a lot of regulatory requirements. 2. Capacity Just as important as asking the manufacturer if it can produce your chemicals, can it produce your chemicals on the scale you want? Can it be completed in time before the deadline? This requires not only sufficient chemical mixing tanks, but also a series of special reaction, grinding, distillation and other equipment to deal with hazardous or flammable materials when necessary. This also means having enough storage capacity to store your products until you are ready to ship. In fact, if the manufacturer's capacity is much larger than what your project currently needs, you can expand at any time, if necessary. 3. Certification and registration Certification and registration can prove the quality management of chemical manufacturers, the ability and legal authority to deal with chemicals (especially hazardous substances), and their concern for the environment. Some of these qualities are just the added benefit of hiring the company, while others are the basic requirements you must meet before you delegate your business to them. Certification and registration are usually obtained through strict inspection by independent institutions or government departments. They must be updated regularly to remain valid, usually once a year or twice a year. 4. Quality assurance ISO 9001:2015 certification is a simple way to measure whether a manufacturer has a thorough quality management system, but if it fails to pass the certification, you need to ask what kind of system is in place. For example, keeping detailed batch production records can accurately identify at which stage of production a batch has a problem. 5. Company profile By analyzing these characteristics of the company, you can choose chemical manufacturers like other business partners.

several more reasons not to support it. Assuming that the idea has some merit, when people have to work hard to generate their own objections, they will be more aware of its virtues. 8. Make your ideas more familiar. Repeat yourself—it makes people more comfortable with an unconventional idea. Reactions typically become more positive after ten to twenty exposures to an idea, particularly if they’re short, spaced apart by a few days, and mixed in with other ideas. You can also make your original concept more appealing by connecting it with other ideas that are already understood by the audience

Thea," I said, my voice lower and firmer than I had intended. "I want you here, and even better, I'm glad you slept in my bed." Another flush of emotion from the direction of Thea's warmth. Just a hint of lust. Her lips parted in surprise, and my eyes followed the motion with a spreading grin. "Did you sleep well, bond mate?" I asked, low and with clear intent to tease. Thea caught her breath and stood up straighter, pulling my shirt tighter around her shoulders. She looked me up and down, a mix of curiosity and scandal on her face. "Now who is thinking unspeakable things?" Her reaction was unexpected and I chuckled as I took her fingers in my hand. "You're entangled with a fae now, darling. Unspeakable things are what I excel at.

Let me give some morons out there a lesson on jealousy : people who get jealous are the ones who’ll typically harbor an attachment and fixation in the absence of which, there can never be any jealous reaction if you’re looking for one. So, good luck with the unsavory mind games and mixed signals.

Most people who have made big career changes have heard loved ones tell them, “You’re out of your mind.” Sabotage is not their intention, but a shared history has entrenched certain expectations, and reinventing oneself can amount to breaking the implicit “contract.” People who have quit smoking, lost weight, or gotten divorced are familiar with the mixed reactions of friends, who see the change as loss.

The Sleeve I’m making cold calls to thank people for my cup and getting mixed reactions. The guy who answered the phone at a tree farmer association, whose members grow the wood used in my paper cup, responded with the same tone I use when I’m asked to take an E-Meter reading on the street. “I know this sounds odd, but I want to thank you . . . ,” I started. “I’m good,” he said. “No, I’m not trying to sell . . .” He’d already clicked off.

Primary pollutants are those released directly from the source into the air in a harmful form. Secondary pollutants are converted to a hazardous form after they enter the air or are formed by chemical reactions as components of the air mix and interact

The West is perceived as genuinely hostile towards Islam and the Muslim countries. . . . United in their common aim to harm Islam, they are considered by the Islamists as enemies of the Umma. Any strengthening of Islam represents a victory against the West. Thus every development or event in the Arab world is interpreted as reaction to the West. Furthermore, the Islamists’ attitude towards the West and its institutions is ambiguous in a similar way as their view of the Zionists and the state of Israel, where hatred mixes with admiration.

with a particular history, in a particular place and local culture, perhaps informed by a particular mood or thought. This means we also have to mix in human agency, the part played by people’s own reactions. Altogether, it’s an enigmatic alchemy of often transitory influences and impulses. As a result, there is little observable order.

It’s a chemical reaction. Luciferin in the fly’s abdomen mixes with oxygen, producing light.

Emboldened by the new atmosphere of hostility to occult practices, the Kentish magistrate Reginald Scot published his avowedly sceptical Discoverie of Witchcraft in 1584, which took aim at Leicester and, without naming him, at Dee as well.174 However, the change in atmosphere meant that not only the overt practice of magic but also the ‘prophetic politics’ beloved of Dee and sustained by astrology came under attack.175 Even the use of occult imagery in Elizabeth’s cult of personality met with a frosty reception. In 1590, Edmund Spenser’s The Faerie Queene, a wide-ranging mythological epic poem directed at Elizabeth and suffused with alchemical, Neoplatonic and Hermetic symbolism, gained the poet little favour. It has been suggested that the poem’s heady mix of patriotic imagery and prophetic enthusiasm may have been linked to Dee’s Arthurian theories about the ‘British empire’,176 but publication came at the wrong time. In England in the 1590s ‘the spirit of reaction’ prevailed against ‘the daring spiritual adventures of the Renaissance’.177 Nevertheless, in spite of official hostility to magic, Elizabeth remained fascinated by alchemy and continued to hope for the Philosophers’ Stone, employing Dee in alchemical experiments from July 1590. Elizabeth also began her own personal correspondence with Edward Kelley, promising him incentives to return to England as her personal alchemist.178 However, by May 1591 Burghley had lost patience with Kelley’s claims. Meanwhile, the alchemist was imprisoned in Bohemia by Rudolf II for killing another man in a duel.179 Dee may have temporarily won his way back into Elizabeth’s favour in June by claiming occult knowledge of a Spanish invasion,180 but the subsequent discovery of threats to the queen’s life that summer by William Hacket and other messianic Protestant sectaries did not shed a very flattering light on Dee’s style of political prophecy.181

Yahweh has confirmed his choice by sacred lots!” Murmurings around Ittai sharpened his attention even more on the scene before him. The Seer announced, “Bring forth Saul ben Kish of the tribe of Benjamin!” The murmuring rose to a cacophony of mixed reactions. But no one came forward. The crowd’s noisy chatter heightened. Ittai could see the Seer barking orders to those off the platform. Then a man stepped up. The clamor settled. This must be the man. But to Ittai, he looked as if he didn’t want to be there, as if he were afraid. What a strange choice for a king, he thought. The man was actually quite handsome. The kind that Ittai had seen women swoon over. He stood a full head and shoulders taller than any of the other Israelites. Ittai guessed him to be about six and a half feet tall.

Some has been written about the reaction of our forces to the bombing of the “highway to death.” The criticism revolves around the lack of apparent remorse or guilt, and perhaps even bloodlust, at bombing the relatively easy targets. Everybody reacts to the stress of war and life and death decisions differently, and to narrow the image one would construct of an individual to his reaction immediately following the events of any battle is superficial and simplistic. Naval aviators are a strange mix of people—utterly homogeneous in certain respects, particularly to the casual observer, and radically different in their core and substance. Very few naval aviators show honest emotion easily; they’re not supposed to fracture the military bearing that has been instilled in them through years of training and detached experience under the stress of carrier aviation. Anger is the easiest emotion to display because it is the natural, instinctual outlet for stress and fear. But even expressions of anger might be as diverse in their reaction to a common event as physical violence or the mere raising of a voice. Most emotion comes out at the officers’ club, or on liberty in a foreign port, where the beer either softens or heightens aviators’ feelings to the edges of their flexibility, which often is not very far. Virtually all naval aviators are college graduates—some from state colleges, some from the Naval Academy, even a few Ivy Leaguers. This is their greatest obvious commonality—a college degree and mutual survival of the weeding-out process to get where they are in the navy. Many are religious, many are not, and the greatest of the values shared by the men is a trust in their comrades, a dedication to their country, and an absolute focus on their mission. It is exceedingly difficult most times for an outsider to register where a naval aviator is “coming from.” The uniform, the haircut, and the navy-speak contribute enormously to the building of a stereotype. So do the mannerisms of each individual; some express the control of emotion in reserved stoicism, others in an outburst of emotional release through inappropriate laughter or anger. Still others never express emotion at all. But the emotion is there, it has to be; despite years of training and desensitizing to hide the race of the heart and the sickening chill in the stomach, anyone who has landed on an aircraft carrier, never mind fought in a war, knows what fear and exhilarating intensity are.

I’m relieved.” Ryder leveled his eyes with Michael. “I can’t live here . . . like this anymore.” Not the reaction Michael expected. “Your job?” “It’s almost summer. I’m out. I’ll find another job.” The words were easy to digest, but he didn’t believe them. “You love Utah.” “Love is a strong word. I’m used to Utah. I didn’t leave when I was eighteen. Most of you did, even if only for a little while.” Ryder refilled both their glasses and moved to the couch. Michael followed. “Do you know how many states gay marriage is legal?” “Twenty.” The answer came easy. If there was one thing easy to support and follow, it was any topic related to homosexuals. “Twenty. At least eleven more have appeals in the courts to add those states to the mix, Utah included.” Ryder set his glass aside and took Michael’s hand. “It’s going to take small towns like this forever to catch up even after it’s legalized. I don’t want to wait for them. I want to live, Mike.” This was that moment Michael knew was coming. Truth.

Maybe you can change the proportions, but a hospital still smells the same. Blood—oxygenated by contact with the air—is the first thing the body’s warning system perceives. A smell of old iron, a smell you can almost taste. Thick and repugnant. The smell of danger. In a biological animal reaction that has allowed the human race to survive, the oldest parts of our brain, the limbic system and the hypothalamus, associate the smell of blood with an emergency. Either we’re wounded, or we’ve wounded the prey we came to hunt. The message says to hide or attack. To treat the wound, or kill. That’s why a hospital puts us on alert, because it smells like blood. Or so we think. In truth, the hospital smell is a mix of blood, alcohol, disinfectant, and chlorine, alongside the ketones given off by certain sick bodies—very volatile and thus very expansive—and gases like oxygen and nitrogen, and of course the medications used to treat the patients. However you alter the proportions in that mix, strangely enough, all hospitals smell the same. Of blood, fear, anxiety, and despair".

Nazi authorities never decided what to do with Jews in mixed marriages in Germany owing to “Aryan” partners’ reactions, which included a major protest in Berlin in February 1943.6

If you’re assuming that my plans to leave are nothing more than a reaction to Miss Hathaway … I’ve been considering this for a long time. I’m not an idiot. Nor am I inexperienced with women.” “To say the least,” St. Vincent commented dryly. “But in your pursuit of women—or perhaps I should say their pursuit of you—you seem to have regarded them all as interchangeable. Until now. If you are taken with this Hathaway creature, don’t you think it bears investigating?” “God, no. There’s only one thing it could lead to.” “Marriage,” the viscount said rather than asked. “Yes. And that’s impossible.” “Why?” The fact that they were discussing Amelia Hathaway and the subject of marriage was enough to make Cam blanch in discomfort. “I’m not the marrying kind—” St. Vincent snorted. “No man is. Marriage is a female invention.” “—but even if I were so inclined,” Cam continued, “I’m a Roma. I wouldn’t do that to her.” There was no need to elucidate. Decent gadjis didn’t marry Gypsies. His blood was mixed, and even though Amelia herself might harbor no prejudices, the routine discriminations Cam encountered would certainly extend to his wife and children. And if that wasn’t bad enough, his own people would be even more disapproving of the match. Gadje Gadjensa, Rom Romensa … Gadje with Gadje, Roma with Roma. “What if your heritage made no difference to her?” Westcliff asked quietly. “That’s not the point. It’s how others would view her.” Seeing that the older man was about to argue, Cam murmured, “Tell me, would either of you wish your daughter to marry a Gypsy?” In the face of their discomforted silence, he smiled without amusement. After a moment, Westcliff stubbed out his cigar in a deliberate, methodical fashion. “Obviously you’ve made up your mind. Further debate would be pointless.

In addition to this extremely complex mix, when you take a bite of that ravioli with its tomato sauce and squash filling, you get thousands and thousands of additional chemicals, all connected in different ways in each different food-truly a biochemical bonanza. The main message I'm trying to get across is this: the chemicals we get from the foods we eat are engaged in a series of reactions that work in concert to produce good health. These chemicals are carefully orchestrated by intricate controls within our cells and all through our bodies, and these controls decide what nutrient goes where, how much of each nutrient is needed and when each reaction takes place. PRINCIPLE 1

The Efficacy of Trisulphozymase for Preventing SA Incompatibility Reactions in Births of Mixed-Blood Parentage:

Molly and Gracie sat silently on the horse, tears streaming down their cheeks as Constable Riggs turned the big bay stallion and led the way back to the depot. A high pitched wail broke out. The cries of agonised mothers and the women, and the deep sobs of grandfathers, uncles and cousins filled the air. Molly and Gracie looked back just once before they disappeared through the river gums. Behind them, those remaining in the camp found strong sharp objects and gashed themselves and inflicted wounds to their heads and bodies as an expression of their sorrow. The two frightened and miserable girls began to cry, silently at first, then uncontrollably; their grief made worse by the lamentations of their loved ones and the visions of them sitting on the ground in their camp letting their tears mix with the red blood that flowed from the cuts on their heads. This reaction to their children's abduction showed that the family were now in mourning. They were grieving for their abducted children and their relief would come only when the tears ceased to fall, and that will be a long time yet.

Seven years ago tonight, every dream I ever had came true. That's not something too many men get to claim. I'm very lucky, blessed, whichever you believe. Probably a lot of both. Tonight marks the anniversary of my debut performance at Ceasars Palace." On his cue, the crowd whipped into congratulary rapture. Blindsided by his recollection, Isavel was motionless. That's what he recalls happening on this date? "Indulgent, lazy, self-centered... jerk!" she said, grabbing her purse, thinking she'd climb over the seat. "I'm going home!" Before she could turn, hositing herself over, a spotlight landed on her. In the darkened arena Aidan and Isabel were face-to-face. He stared. The same way he did years ago in his pickup truck, holding tight to her wrist, the same way he did on the dance floor at the gala. The same way he did in the moment she left him. "If you can believe it," he said, still staring, "something even more important happened that day. As dreams of fame and fortune go, this topped everything. I've always know that." Then, in a softer voice: "And I'm a fool because I should have never given up." Even from her vantage point, Isabel could see the gulp roll through his throat. "It's my great privilege this evening to introduce my wife, Isabel Royce." He gestered to the box. Isabel responded by sinking to her seat. "What's he talking about?" she hissed to Mary Louise. "We're divorced!" From her right, Tanya nudged her. It was like being on a palace balcony, Isabel offering a deer-in-the-headlights wave to the subjects, a thoroughly baffled look at Aidan. In return, he smiled at her clear confusion. "My wife ..." Why is he calling me that? There was a mixed reaction, lots of gasps, some applause, and the disappointed groans from female fans. "She's done me the tremendous honor of making a rare appearance at one of my shows. Seven years ago, she agreed to marry me. At the time, my life was more trouble than promise. We were two scared kids who had nothing but each other. Really, it was all I needed. We were married in true Vegas fashion." Hoots and hollers echoed, his glance dropping to the stage floor. Sharing this was making the performer uncomfortable. He pushed on. "While most women would have been satisfied with a ring ... " His long fingers fluttered over the snake. "This was Isabel's idea of a permanent bond." It drew a wave of subtle laughter, Isabel included. "Do you remember how the story went?" he said, speaking only to Isabel in a crowd of thousands. "As long as I had it, I'd never be without you. Turns out, it wasn't a story, it was the absolute truth. Lately though," he said, turning back to his public narrative, "circumstance, some serious, some calculated, has prevented me from getting my wife's attention. So tonight I resorted to an old performer's trick, a captive audience. I planned this moment, Isabel, knowing you'd be here. Regardless of anything you may believe, I meant what I said on our wedding night, in the moment I said it. I love you. I always have.

I don’t mix business with pleasure,” I state, watching her closely for her reaction. She smiles, her eyes traveling to my lips. “What a shame. I really wanted you to make my pleasure your business.