N Stock Quotes

The End of the Raven "On a night quite unenchanting, when the rain was downward slanting I awakened to the ranting of the man I catch mice for. Tipsy and a bit unshaven, in a tone I found quite craven, Poe was talking to a Raven perched above the chamber door. 'Raven's very tasty,' thought I, as I tiptoed o'er the floor. 'There is nothing I like more.' [...] Still the Raven never fluttered, standing stock-still as he uttered In a voice that shrieked and sputtered, his two cents' worth -- 'Nevermore.' While this dirge the birdbrain kept up, oh, so silently I crept up, Then I crouched and quickly leapt up, pouncing on the feathered bore. Soon he was a heap of plumage, and a little blood and gore -- Only this and not much more.

When you look in the mirror Take stock of your soul And when you hear my voice, remember You ruined me whole And, baby, when you think of me I hope it ruins rock ’n’ roll One day, you’ll regret it I’ll make sure of it before I go

Basically, CEOs have five essential choices for deploying capital—investing in existing operations, acquiring other businesses, issuing dividends, paying down debt, or repurchasing stock—and three alternatives for raising it—tapping internal cash flow, issuing debt, or raising equity. Think of these options collectively as a tool kit. Over the long term, returns for shareholders will be determined largely by the decisions a CEO makes in choosing which tools to use (and which to avoid) among these various options. Stated simply, two companies with identical operating results and different approaches to allocating capital will derive two very different long-term outcomes for shareholders.

Dowist: (n.) blind believer in the stock market.

fetish: (n.) anything, such as the stock market, falsely believed by primitive peoples to possess divine, magical or supernatural qualities.

Basically, CEOs have five essential choices for deploying capital—investing in existing operations, acquiring other businesses, issuing dividends, paying down debt, or repurchasing stock—and three alternatives for raising it—tapping internal cash flow, issuing debt, or raising equity.

He also entered a bookstore called “Books ‘n’ Stuff,” that stocked more videos and greeting cards than books. Furthermore, its supermarket lighting and background music discouraged browsing. Qwilleran had his own ideas about the correct ambiance for a bookstore: dim, quiet, and slightly dusty.

No kitchen is complete without veal stock." "Do you have veal stock in this kitchen? Does your neighbor?" "It is the foundation of all sauces. It adds a complexity. Deliciousness. Has Escoffier not told you of this theory of five tastes? A Japanese chemist proved it, and called it 'umami,' which means deliciousness.

The buggy should be here soon. Do you have your suitcase packed?” “So eager to get rid of me?” “Eager?” he repeated, rolling back the sleeves of his favorite indigo coat. “My kitchen will be empty in two days and I’ll be forced to purchase my own groceries. How could I be eager for that?” Ceony smiled and scooped out more egg. “You could always have Jonto cook your meals.” In fact, Emery once had tried to get Jonto to cook his meals. It had taken the paper magician two days to reconstruct the right hand and arm of the paper skeleton, which had burned off after Jonto attempted to light the coals in the oven. “I’ll be sure to stock up on sandwich supplies,” Emery murmured. And all you’ll miss is the food, hm?” His eyes glimmered. “I may miss the mid-night companionship.” Ceony flushed. “Emery Thane!” That was one time. Emery just chuckled, the cursed man. 

I reviewed in thought the modern era of raps and apparitions, beginning with the knockings of 1848, at the hamlet of Hydesville, N.Y., and ending with grotesque phenomena at Cambridge, Mass.; I evoked the anklebones and other anatomical castanets of the Fox sisters (as described by the sages of the University of Buffalo ); the mysteriously uniform type of delicate adolescent in bleak Epworth or Tedworth, radiating the same disturbances as in old Peru; solemn Victorian orgies with roses falling and accordions floating to the strains of sacred music; professional imposters regurgitating moist cheesecloth; Mr. Duncan, a lady medium's dignified husband, who, when asked if he would submit to a search, excused himself on the ground of soiled underwear; old Alfred Russel Wallace, the naive naturalist, refusing to believe that the white form with bare feet and unperforated earlobes before him, at a private pandemonium in Boston, could be prim Miss Cook whom he had just seen asleep, in her curtained corner, all dressed in black, wearing laced-up boots and earrings; two other investigators, small, puny, but reasonably intelligent and active men, closely clinging with arms and legs about Eusapia, a large, plump elderly female reeking of garlic, who still managed to fool them; and the skeptical and embarrassed magician, instructed by charming young Margery's "control" not to get lost in the bathrobe's lining but to follow up the left stocking until he reached the bare thigh - upon the warm skin of which he felt a "teleplastic" mass that appeared to the touch uncommonly like cold, uncooked liver. ("The Vane Sisters")

REGRET ME When you look in the mirror Take stock of your soul And when you hear my voice, remember You ruined me whole Don’t you dare sleep easy And leave the sleepless nights to me Let the world weigh you down And, baby, when you think of me I hope it ruins rock ’n’ roll Regret me Regretfully When you look at her Take stock of what you took from me And when you see a ghost in the distance Know I’m hanging over everything Don’t you dare sleep easy And leave the sleepless nights to me Let the world weigh you down And, baby, when you think of me I hope it ruins rock ’n’ roll Regret me Regretfully Regret me

REGRET ME When you look in the mirror Take stock of your soul And when you hear my voice, remember You ruined me whole Don’t you dare sleep easy And leave the sleepless nights to me Let the world weigh you down And, baby, when you think of me I hope it ruins rock ’n’ roll Regret me Regretfully When you look at her Take stock of what you took from me And when you see a ghost in the distance Know I’m hanging over everything Don’t you dare sleep easy And leave the sleepless nights to me Let the world weigh you down And, baby, when you think of me I hope it ruins rock ’n’ roll Regret me Regretfully Regret me Regretfully

No Teacher for Present (The Sonnet) Life's purpose is realization of life, Beyond the narrowness of yesterday. Instead of waiting for a fictitious future, Life is whatever you make of it today. The past is always afraid of the future, Don't let their fear ruin your present. The future may be condescending to the past. Don't let such arrogance ruin your humanness. Embrace the wonders that the past has to offer, Learn from their blunders even through their denial. Be mindful of the direction that you are headed, Then leap to work on the present, lock, stock 'n barrel. Neither past nor future is qualified to teach the present. All present must find their way free from all allegiance.

This here’s better’n a cold collard sandwich,” he said. “I wish the cornbread’d come out. Maybe shoulda put more soda in, less eggs.” Kya couldn’t believe she was talking on so, but couldn’t stop herself. “Ma made it so good, but I guess I didn’t pay enough mind to the details . . .” Then thought she shouldn’t be talking about Ma, so hushed up. Pa pushed his plate toward her. “’Nough for a dab more?” “Yessir, there’s aplenty.” “Oh, and tump some of that cornbread right in tha stew. Ah got a hankerin’ for soppin’ up the stock, and my bet is that bread’s just fine, mushy like spoonbread.” She smiled to herself as she filled his plate. Who would’ve thought they’d find cornbread as a footing.

When it comes to people we admire, it is in our nature to be selective with information, to load with personal associations, to elevate and make heroic. That is especially true after their deaths, especially if those deaths have been in any way untimely and/or shocking. It is hard to hold onto the real people, the true story. When we think of the Clash, we tend to forget or overlook the embarrassing moments, the mistakes, the musical filler, the petty squabbles, the squalid escapades, the unfulfilled promises. Instead, we take only selected highlights from the archive-the best songs, the most flatteringly-posed photographs, the most passionate live footage, the most stirring video clips, the sexiest slogans, the snappiest soundbites, the warmest personal memories-and from them we construct a near-perfect rock 'n' roll band, a Hollywood version of the real thing. The Clash have provided us with not just a soundtrack, but also a stock of images from which to create a movie we can run in our own heads. The exact content of the movie might differ from person to person and country to country, but certain key elements will remain much the same; and it is those elements that will make up the Essential Clash of folk memory. This book might have set out to take the movie apart scene by scene to analyse how it was put together; but this book also believes the movie is a masterpiece, and has no intention of spoiling the ending. It's time to freeze the frame. At the very moment they step out of history and into legend: the Last Gang In Town.

Remember that craze a few years back in the BookWorld for sending chain letters? Receive a letter and send one on to ten friends? Well, someone has been overenthusiastic with the letter U—I’ve got a report here from the Text Sea Environmental Protection Agency saying that reserves of the letter U have reached dangerously low levels—we need to decrease consumption until stocks are brought back up. Any suggestions?” “How about using a lower-case n upside down?” said Benedict. “We tried that with M and W during the great M Migration of ’62; it never worked.” “How about respelling what, what?” suggested King Pellinore, stroking his large white mustache. “Any word with the our ending could be spelt or, don’tchaknow.” “Like neighbor instead of neighbour?” “It’s a good idea,” put in Snell. “Labor, valor, flavor, harbor—there must be hundreds. If we confine it to one geographical area, we can claim it as a local spelling idiosyncrasy.

L’agonie de notre temps gît là. Le siècle ne s’effondre pas faute de soutien matériel. Jamais l’univers ne fut si riche, comblé de tant de confort, aidé par une industrialisation à ce point productrice. Jamais il n’y eut tant de ressources ni de biens offerts. C’est le cœur de l’homme, et lui seul, qui est en état de faillite. C’est faute d’aimer, c’est faute de croire et de se donner, que le monde s’accable lui-même des coups qui l’assassinent. Le siècle a voulu n’être plus que le siècle des appétits. Son orgueil l’a perdu. Il a cru aux machines, aux stocks, aux lingots, sur lesquels il régnerait en maître. Il a cru, tout autant, à la victoire des passions charnelles projetées au delà de toutes les limites, à la libération des formes les plus diverses des jouissances, sans cesse multipliées, toujours plus avilies et plus avilissantes, dotées d’une « technique » qui n’est, en somme, généralement, qu’une accumulation, sans grande imagination, d’assez pauvres vices, d’êtres vidés.

Year after year, they are joined by a new age group from Germany’s youth, totally educated in accordance with National Socialist principles, forged together by the ideas of our Volksgemeinschaft, and willing to move against anyone who should dare to sin against our fight for freedom. And just as in the time of the party’s struggle for power, our female party comrades, our German women and girls, were the most reliable supports of the movement, so now again the multitude of our women and girls form the strongest element in the struggle for the preservation of our Volk. After all, thank God, not only the Jews in London and New York but also those in Moscow made clear what fate might be in store for the German Volk. We are determined to be no less clear in our answer. This fight will not end with the planned annihilation of the Aryan but with the extermination of the Jew in Europe. Beyond this, thanks to this fight, our movement’s world of thought will become the common heritage of all people, even of our enemies. State after state will be forced, in the course of its fight against us, to apply National Socialist theories in waging this war that was provoked by them. And in so doing, it will become aware of the curse that the criminal work of Jewry has laid over all people, especially through this war. As our enemies thought in 1923 that the National Socialist Party was defeated for good and that I was finished with in the eyes of the German Volk because of my trial, so they actually helped National Socialist ideology to spread like wildfire through the entire German Volk and convey the essence of Jewry to so many million men, as we ourselves would never have been able to do under normal circumstances. In the same manner international Jewry, which instigated this new war, will find out that nation after nation engrosses itself more and more in this question to become finally aware of the great danger presented by this international problem. Above all, this war proves the irrefutable identity of plutocracy and Bolshevism, and the common ambition of all Jews to exploit nations and make them the slaves of their international guild of criminals. The same alliance we once faced as our common enemies in Germany, an alliance between the stock exchange in Frankfurt and the “Red Flag” in Berlin, now again exists between the Jewish banking houses in New York, the Jewishplutocratic class of leaders in London, and the Jews in the Kremlin in Moscow. Just as the German Volk successfully fought the Jewish enemy at home as a consequence of this realization and is now about to finish it off for good, the other nations will increasingly find themselves again in the course of this war. Together, they will make a stand against that race that is seeking to destroy all of them. Proclamation for the 23th anniversary of the N.S.D.A.P. (read by Hermann Esser) Fuhrer Headquarters, February 24, 1943

In my generation we did a lot of pleasure chasing—we, the generation responsible for today’s twenty-year-olds and thirty-year-olds and forty-year-olds. Before they came into our lives, we were on a pleasure binge, and the need for immediate gratification passed through us to our children. When I got out of the Army in 1944, the guys who were being discharged with me were mostly between the ages of eighteen and thirty. We came home to a country that was in great shape in terms of industrial capacity. As the victors, we decided to spread the good fortune around, and we did all kinds of wonderful things—but it wasn’t out of selfless idealism, let me assure you. Take the Marshall Plan, which we implemented at that time. It rebuilt Europe, yes, but it also enabled those war ruined countries to buy from us. The incredible, explosive economic prosperity that resulted just went wild. It was during that period that the pleasure principle started feeding on itself. One generation later it was the sixties, and those twenty-eight-year-old guys from World War II were forty-eight. They had kids twenty years old, kids who had been so indulged for two decades that it caused a huge, first-time-in-history distortion in the curve of values. And, boy, did that curve bend and bend and bend. These postwar parents thought they were in nirvana if they had a color TV and two cars and could buy a Winnebago and a house on the lake. But the children they had raised on that pleasure principle of material goods were by then bored to death. They had overdosed on all that stuff. So that was the generation who decided, “Hey, guess where the real action is? Forget the Winnebago. Give me sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll.” Incredible mind-blowing experiences, head-banging, screw-your-brains-out experiences in service to immediate and transitory pleasures. But the one kind of gratification is simply an outgrowth of the other, a more extreme form of the same hedonism, the same need to indulge and consume. Some of those same sixties kids are now themselves forty-eight. Whatever genuine idealism they carried through those love-in days got swept up in the great yuppie gold rush of the eighties and the stock market nirvana of the nineties—and I’m afraid we are still miles away from the higher ground we seek.

The crispy crunch of the savory parmesan wings. The thick and smooth Ankake sauce. And under those lies the tender and springy chicken meat that floods the mouth with its umami-laden juices with each bite! Even the delicate aftertaste unique to the Satsuma Jidori has been vividly enhanced! You would think by adding powerfully flavored ingredients like cheese and pork jowl that the overall taste would become heavy and cloying, but that isn't the case at all! The answer to that is in the Ankake sauce. I seasoned that Jidori stock with one special secret ingredient. "Yukihira, quit stalling! What the heck is that ingredient? Tell me! Now!" "It's ketchup. I used good ol' tomato ketchup to make that Ankake sauce... ... into a special house-blend sweet n' sour sauce!" "Ketchup?!" Sweet n' sour sauce is used in a lot of dishes, from obvious ones like sweet n' sour pork, to regional varieties ofTenshinhan crab omelet over rice, and even seafood dishes like deep-fried cod! It's especially handy for Chinese cooking, which commonly makes use of a variety of oils. It's perfect for alleviating the thick oiliness of some dishes, giving them a fresh and tangy flavor. So by adding the tart acidity of tomato-based ketchup to make my Ankake sauce... ... it wipes out the cloying greasiness of both the Parmesan cheese and the pork jowl, leaving only their rich flavors behind. Not only that, it also brings out the Satsuma Jidori's renowned delicate aftertaste!" "The base broth of the sauce is from a stock I made from the Jidori's carcass, so of course it will pair well with the wing meat. And to top it all off, Parmesan cheese and tomatoes are a great match for each other!" "Oh... oh, now I see! That's how you managed to keep from smothering the Jidori's unique flavor! Tomatoes are one big lump of the umami component glutamic acid! Add the inosinic acid from the Jidori and the Guanylic acid from the shiitake mushrooms, and you have three umami compounds all magnifying each other! The techniques for emphasizing the unique and delicious flavors of a Jidori... the three-way umami-component magnification effect... the synergy between ketchup and cheese... the texture contrast between the crispy cheese wings and the smooth Ankake sauce... all of those rest squarely on the foundation of the tomato's tart acidity!

That black horse we used for packin’ up here is the most cantankerous beast alive,” Jake grumbled, rubbing his arm. Ian lifted his gaze from the initials on the tabletop and turned to Jake, making no attempt to hide his amusement. “Bit you, did he?” “Damn right he bit me!” the older man said bitterly. “He’s been after a chuck of me since we left the coach at Hayborn and loaded those sacks on his back to bring up here.” “I warned you he bites anything he can reach. Keep your arm out of his way when you’re saddling him.” “It weren’t my arm he was after, it was my arse! Opened his mouth and went for it, only I saw him outter the corner of my eye and swung around, so he missed.” Jakes’s frown darkened when he saw the amusement in Ian’s expression. “Can’t see why you’ve bothered to feed him all these years. He doesn’t deserve to share a stable with your other horses-beauties they are, every one but him.” “Try slinging packs over the backs of one of those and you’ll see why I took him. He was suitable for using as a pack mule; none of my other cattle would have been,” ian said, frowning as he lifted his head and looked about at the months of accumulated dirt covering everything. “He’s slower’n a pack mule,” Jake replied. “Mean and stubborn and slow,” he concluded, but he, too, was frowning a little as he looked around at the thick layers of dust coating every surface. “Thought you said you’d arranged for some village wenches to come up here and clean and cook fer us. This place is a mess.” “I did. I dictated a message to Peters for the caretaker, asking him to stock the place with food and to have two women come up here to clean and cook. The food is here, and there are chickens out in the barn. He must be having difficulty finding two women to stay up here.” “Comely women, I hope,” Jake said. “Did you tell him to make the wenches comely?” Ian paused in his study of the spiderwebs strewn across the ceiling and cast him an amused look. “You wanted me to tell a seventy-year-old caretaker who’s half-blind to make certain the wenches were comely?” “Couldn’ta hurt ‘t mention it,” Jake grumbled, but he looked chastened. “The village is only twelve miles away. You can always stroll down there if you’ve urgent need of a woman while we’re here. Of course, the trip back up here may kill you,” he joked referring to the winding path up the cliff that seemed to be almost vertical. “Never mind women,” Jake said in an abrupt change of heart, his tanned, weathered face breaking into a broad grin. “I’m here for a fortnight of fishin’ and relaxin’, and that’s enough for any man. It’ll be like the old days, Ian-peace and quiet and naught else. No hoity-toity servants hearin’ every word what’s spoke, no carriages and barouches and matchmaking mamas arrivin’ at your house. I tell you, my boy, though I’ve not wanted to complain about the way you’ve been livin’ the past year, I don’t like these servents o’ yours above half. That’s why I didn’t come t’visit you very often. Yer butler at Montmayne holds his nose so far in t’air, it’s amazin’ he gets any oxhegen, and that French chef o’ yers practically threw me out of his kitchens. That what he called ‘em-his kitchens, and-“ The old seaman abruptly broke off, his expression going from irate to crestfallen, “Ian,” he said anxiously, “did you ever learn t’ cook while we was apart?” “No, did you?” “Hell and damnation, no!” Jake said, appalled at the prospect of having to eat anything he fixed himself.

Mark came home late one frozen Sunday carrying a bag of small, silver fish. They were smelts, locally known as icefish. He’d brought them at the store in the next town south, across from which a little village had sprung up on the ice of the lake, a collection of shacks with holes drilled in and around them. I’d seen the men going from the shore to the shacks on snowmobiles, six-packs of beer strapped on behind them like a half dozen miniature passengers. “Sit and rest,” Mark said. “I’m cooking.” He sautéed minced onion in our homemade butter, added a little handful of crushed, dried sage, and when the onion was translucent, he sprinkled n flour to make a roux, which he loosened with beer, in honor of the fishermen. He added cubed carrot, celery root, potato, and some stock, and then the fish, cut into pieces, and when they were all cooked through he poured in a whole morning milking’s worth of Delia’s yellow cream. Icefish chowder, rich and warm, eaten while sitting in Mark’s lap, my feet so close to the woodstove that steam came off my damp socks.

Keynes had been appointed to the board of the National Mutual, one of the oldest institutions in the city, in 1919.107 He had served as chairman of the insurer, and helped manage its investment portfolio from 1921. That portfolio lost £641,000 ($61 million), an enormous sum of money in 1937. While Keynes was recuperating from a heart attack, F. N. Curzon, the acting chairman of the insurer called him to account for the loss.108 Curzon and the board criticized Keynes’s investment policy of remaining invested in his “pet” stocks during the decline.109 In a response to Curzon in March 1938, Keynes wrote:110 1. I do not believe that selling at very low prices is a remedy for having failed to sell at high ones. . . . As soon as prices had fallen below a reasonable estimate of intrinsic value and long-period probabilities, there was nothing more to be done. It was too late to remedy any defects in previous policy, and the right course was to stand pretty well where one was. 2. I feel no shame at being found owning a share when the bottom of the market comes. I do not think it is the business, far less the duty, for an institutional or any other serious investor to be constantly considering whether he should cut and run on a falling market, or to feel himself open to blame if shares depreciate on his hands. . . . An investor is aiming, or should be aiming, primarily at long-period results, and should be solely judged by these. . . . The idea that we should all be selling out to the other fellow and should all be finding ourselves with nothing but cash at the bottom of the market is not merely fantastic, but destructive of the whole system. 3. I do not feel that we have in fact done particularly badly. . . . If we deal in equities; it is inevitable that there should be large fluctuations.

Activities to Develop the Vestibular System Rolling—Encourage your child to roll across the floor and down a grassy hill. Swinging—Encourage (but never force) the child to swing. Gentle, linear movement is calming. Fast, high swinging in an arc is more stimulating. If the child has gravitational insecurity, start him on a low swing so his feet can touch the ground, or hold him on your lap. Two adults can swing him in a blanket, too. Spinning—At the playground, let the child spin on the tire swing or merry-go-round. Indoors, offer a swivel chair or Sit ’n Spin. Monitor the spinning, as the child may become easily overstimulated. Don’t spin her without her permission! Sliding—How many ways can a child swoosh down a slide? Sitting up, lying down, frontwards, backwards, holding on to the sides, not holding on, with legs straddling the sides, etc. Riding Vehicles—Trikes, bikes, and scooters help children improve their balance, motor planning, and motor coordination. Walking on Unstable Surfaces—A sandy beach, a playground “clatter bridge,” a grassy meadow, and a waterbed are examples of shaky ground that require children to adjust their bodies as they move. Rocking—Provide a rocking chair for your child to get energized, organized, or tranquilized.

*———. The Mystery of Israel’s Origins: An Introduction and Proposals. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014. *Stager, Lawrence E. “Forging and Identity: The Emergence of Ancient Israel,” in The Oxford History of the Biblical World, ed. Michael D. Coogan. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998. Stark, Thomas. The Human Faces of God: What Scripture Reveals When It Gets God Wrong (and Why Inerrancy Tries to Hide It). Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 2010. *Thomas, Heath A., Jeremy Evans, and Paul Copan, eds. Holy War in the Bible: Christian Morality and an Old Testament Problem. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2013. Williamson, H. G. M. 1 and 2 Chronicles. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982. Wright, N. T. How God Became King: The Forgotten Story of the Gospels. San Francisco: HarperOne, 2012. *———. Jesus and the Victory of God. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1997. ———. Paul in Fresh Perspective. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2005. ———. Simply Jesus: A New Vision of Who He Was, What He Did, and Why It Matters. San Francisco: HarperOne,

Each ran a highly decentralized organization; made at least one very large acquisition; developed unusual, cash flow–based metrics; and bought back a significant amount of stock. None paid meaningful dividends or provided Wall Street guidance. All received the same combination of derision, wonder, and skepticism from their peers and the business press. All also enjoyed eye-popping, credulity-straining performance over very long tenures (twenty-plus years on average).

There can be a reserve demand for a depletable resource, just as there is speculative reserve demand for any other stock of goods on the market. This speculation is not simple wickedness, however; it has a definite function, namely, that of allocating the scarce depletable resource to those uses at those times when consumer demand for them will be greatest. The speculator, waiting to use the resources until a future date, benefits consumers by shifting their use to a time when they will be more in demand than at present.

One of the frequent attacks on the behavior of the free market is based on the Georgist bugbear of natural resources held off the market for speculative purposes. We have dealt with this alleged problem above. Another, and diametrically opposite, attack is the common one that the free market wastes resources, especially depletable resources. Future generations are allegedly robbed by the greed of the present. Such reasoning would lead to the paradoxical conclusion that noneof the resource be consumed at all. For whenever, at any time, a man consumes a depletable resource (here we use “consumes” in a broader sense to include “uses up” in production), he is leaving less of a stock for himself or his descendants to draw upon. It is a fact of life that wheneverany amount of a depletable resource is used up, less is left for the future, and therefore anysuch consumption could just as well be called “robbery of the future,” if one chooses to define robbery in such unusual terms. Once we grant any amount of use to the depletable resource, we have to discard the robbery-of-the-future argument and accept the individual preferences of the market. There is then no more reason to assume that the market will use the resources too fast than to assume the opposite. The market will tend to use resources at precisely the rate that the consumers desire.

CBS spent much of the 1960s and 1970s taking the enormous cash flow generated by its network and broadcast operations and funding an aggressive acquisition program that led it into entirely new fields, including the purchase of a toy business and the New York Yankees baseball team. CBS issued stock to fund some of these acquisitions, built a landmark office building in midtown Manhattan at enormous expense, developed a corporate structure with forty-two presidents and vice presidents, and generally displayed what Buffett’s partner, Charlie Munger, calls “a prosperity-blinded indifference to unnecessary costs.”1

Dans son rapport inaugural, le Forum, à propos de la mondialisation qu'il a symbolisée sous ses formes les plus conquérantes et sûres d'elles-mêmes, évoque avec un sens exquis de l'euphémisme "un risque de désillusion". Mais dans les conversations, c'est autre chose. Désillusion ? Crise ? Inégalités ? D'accord, si vous y tenez, mais enfin, comme nous le dit le très cordial et chaleureux PDG de la banque américaine Western Union, soyons clairs : si on ne paie pas les leaders comme ils le méritent, ils s'en iront voir ailleurs. Et puis, capitalisme, ça veut dire quoi ? Si vous avez 100 dollars d'économies et que vous les mettez à la banque en espérant en avoir bientôt 105, vous êtes un capitaliste, ni plus ni moins que moi. Et plus ces capitalistes comme vous et moi (il a réellement dit "comme vous et moi", et même si nous gagnons fort décemment notre vie, même si nous ne connaissons pas le salaire exact du PDG de la Western Union, pour ne rien dire de ses stock-options, ce "comme vous et moi" mérite à notre sens le pompon de la "brève de comptoir" version Davos), plus ces capitalistes comme vous et moi, donc, gagneront d'argent, plus ils en auront à donner, pardon à redistribuer, aux pauvres. L'idée ne semble pas effleurer cet homme enthousiaste, et à sa façon, généreux, que ce ne serait pas plus mal si les pauvres étaient en mesure d'en gagner eux-mêms et ne dépendaient pas des bonnes dispositions des riches. Faire le maximum d'argent, et ensuite le maximum de bien, ou pour les plus sophistiqués faire le maximum de bien en faisant le maximum d'argent, c'est le mantra du Forum, où on n'est pas grand-chose si on n'a pas sa fondation caritative, et c'est mieux que rien, sans doute "(vous voudriez quoi ? Le communisme ?"). Ce qui est moins bien que rien, en revanche, beaucoup moins bien, c'est l'effarante langue de bois dans laquelle ce mantra se décline. Ces mots dont tout le monde se gargarise : préoccupation sociétale, dimension humaine, conscience globale, changement de paradigme… De même que l'imagerie marxiste se représentait autrefois les capitalistes ventrus, en chapeau haut de forme et suçant avec volupté le sang du prolétariat, on a tendance à se représenter les super-riches et super-puissants réunis à Davos comme des cyniques, à l'image de ces traders de Chicago qui, en réponse à Occupy Wall Street, ont déployé au dernier étage de leur tour une banderole proclamant : "Nous sommes les 1%". Mais ces petits cyniques-là étaient des naïfs, alors que les grands fauves qu'on côtoie à Davos ne semblent, eux, pas cyniques du tout. Ils semblent sincèrement convaincus des bienfaits qu'ils apportent au monde, sincèrement convaincus que leur ingénierie financière et philanthropique (à les entendre, c'est pareil) est la seule façon de négocier en douceur le fameux changement de paradigme qui est l'autre nom de l'entrée dans l'âge d'or. Ça nous a étonnés dès le premier jour, le parfum de new age qui baigne ce jamboree de mâles dominants en costumes gris. Au second, il devient entêtant, et au troisième on n'en peut plus, on suffoque dans ce nuage de discours et de slogans tout droit sortis de manuels de développement personnel et de positive thinking. Alors, bien sûr, on n'avait pas besoin de venir jusqu'ici pour se douter que l'optimisme est d'une pratique plus aisée aux heureux du monde qu'à ses gueux, mais son inflation, sa déconnexion de toute expérience ordinaire sont ici tels que l'observateur le plus modéré se retrouve à osciller entre, sur le versant idéaliste, une indignation révolutionnaire, et, sur le versant misanthrope, le sarcasme le plus noir. (p. 439-441)

it is relevant to mention instances of proximity of NDTV personnel to the UPA – Sonia Singh is the wife of R P N Singh (Home Minister of State). Nidhi Razdan has been talked about as being close to Omar Abdullah (ally of Congress and Chief Minister of Jammu and Kashmir). NDTV Group CEO - K V L Narayan Rao (son of former Chief of Army Staff Gen K V Krishna Rao) etc., was in the IRS (Income Tax Dept). Now the latest, Sarah Jacob (who hosts We the People post Barkha’s exit from NDTV) is the daughter in law of Montek Singh Ahluwalia. One can clearly accept and fathom how the “privileged access party continued” for so many years.

The Romantic dream of an inner transformation that will make moral effort unnecessary is untrue both to the New Testament and to worldwide and millennia-long Christian experience. Romantics may suppose that they have been installed in a hotel where everything they want is brought by room service at the touch of a button, but in fact they inhabit a house with a well-stocked larder from which they must choose ingredients and do their own cooking. The point of virtue, in other words, is the recognition that there is such a thing as building up a habit of taking regular small decisions to be a certain type of person, so that gradually one becomes that type of person indeed.

Les Orientaux ont pour philosophie que le plus important dans la peinture ce sont les espaces vides que le peintre a décidé de ne pas remplir, et le plus important de la poésie c'est le non-dit. Les mots écrits ne sont que des mots. Il faut regarder sous l'encre, ou au-dessus. Trouver l'invisible, le caché, qui est l'âme du poème. Un vase n'est qu'un si on ne sait pas comment le regarder. Et cette fille, pour quiconque dans l'aéroport, n'était qu'une jeune fille à la peau foncée, totalement absorbée par son monde. Pour quiconque, sauf pour Pau. Cela n'avait rien d'étrange. Pau savait comment regarder les choses. - Qu'est-ce que vous racontez, aujourd'hui ? - Rien, j'ai épuisé mon stock. Et il riait.

The Troll Sonnet When someone says, your life is a joke, Hold your silence 'n smile without outrage. You do not become an immortal legend, Without facing a million slurry comments. Fight injustice, but be silent at mockery, To retaliate mockery is to become mockery. Those who mock, don't really mock at you, They are just validating their own inferiority. Tremendous spirit for your life's purpose, And uniform silence towards all who mock, That is the key to timeless achievement, Be unperturbed 'n dive in lock, barrel 'n stock. Silence is the best response to all mockery. Mockery is the sincerest form of flattery.

One rather celebrated butler in a Fifth Avenue house that stocked Duveens put in so much overtime that, before he retired, his emoluments from Duveen totalled over a hundred thousand dollars. The gratitude of servants was a fine silt from which burgeoned the flower of remembrance. They developed a feeling that it was only fair to transmit to the generous nobleman any information that might interest him: what rival dealers (who had no comparable sense of the value of a servant’s time) had the effrontery to offer works of art to their masters, what purchases the masters were considering, what was said about Duveen’s emissaries on the walls – in short, all the minutiae of relevant gossip that in the art world are as pregnant with significance as the secret memoranda exchanged by chancelleries.

Each ran a highly decentralized organization; made at least one very large acquisition; developed unusual, cash flow–based metrics; and bought back a significant amount of stock. None paid meaningful dividends or provided Wall Street guidance. All received the same combination of derision, wonder, and skepticism from their

They’ve also taken thousands of acres from other farmers in other parts of Nebraska, and then givin’ ‘em to the corporate farms months later so they can grown more ethanol, which makes market prices involving corn, skyrocket. I also hear tell of rumors that the government has let the U.N. force people in parts of the Dakotas to stop farmin’ or usin’ land for other purposes, somethin’ about lettin’ the natural world come back to the way it was before the Europeans and Indians came to this part of the world. Now, the stock market looks like it’s gonna crash. What is this world comin’ to?

Peeking at him where he sat perusing the stock market on his phone while chewing on some crisp bacon, she blurted out the momentous news. “I love you.” “I know.” Smugly said. She blinked. “What do you mean you know?” “Because of the letter A.” “What does A have to do with anything other than being the first letter in your name?” “Because it also stands for awesome.” “And arrogant.” “Are we back to alphabetizing my attributes? B is for brave.” She laughed. “Don’t you dare start again. Besides, there’s only one set of four letters that interest me.” “Oh?” he said, putting down his phone and ignoring his meal. “And what might those be?” “M.I.N.E.” The only word she needed to have him drag her onto his lap for a scorching kiss. A whispered, “I love you,” vibrated against her lips, his softly growled admission fueling her passion. And after they were done, panting, glowing, and cradled together, ignoring the pounding at the door, she held still as she tried to figure out what she heard. It should have been impossible. Arik was a lion, and yet he was— “Purring?” Indeed, he was. And when an alpha purrs, pleasure is sure to follow.

– Bah alors, c’est ce que je dis, avec la dotation qu’on a, ajouta Făneață puis il se leva pour prendre le livre le plus épais de la pile la plus proche. Il se trouva que c’était La Montagne magique. – Ça fera l’affaire, dit-il le travailleur en se rasseyant à table. Il a suffisamment de pages pour que personne ne remarque que nous en avons déchiré quelques-unes. – Mon frère, t’es vraiment mortel. Laisse donc ce livre en paix, nom de Dieu… Nicu s’opposa pour la dernière fois, l’image de son camarade en cerbère le fit éclater de rire. Une considération de folie. – Tiens, avant de le déplumer, lis au moins ce qu’il y a d’écrit, qu’on entende nous aussi. Făneață fourra son doigt épais au cœur du livre et lut là où ses yeux se posèrent : – Qu’est-ce que le corps ! éclata-t-il avec une impétosité soudaine. Qu’est-ce que la chair ! Qu’est-ce que le corps humain ! De quoi est-il constitué ! Monsieur le conchilier aulique, dites-le nous tout de suite, cet après-midi même. Dites-le-nous une fois pour tourtes et le plus échactement, pour que nous le sachions. Écœuré par la lecture, il s’arrêta, et ne cacha pas son étonnement : certains sont prêts à jeter leur argent par les fenêtres pour n’importe quoi. – Mon petit Nicu, c’est ainsi quand l’homme a trop de temps libre, qu’il ne travaille même pas. Il est là à se faire des idées, et ceux qui se font passer pour cultivés font la file d’attente pour acheter quelque livre comme celui-là. Chiche qu’on va montrer à m’sieur l’écrivain – il fit une pause pour lire le nom de celui-ci sur la couverture – ce que c’est-ce que la viande, car je vois que l’honorable dit ne pas le savoir. Passe-moi les saucisses, va ! Puis il arracha soigneusement quelques pages sur lesquelles il déposa fromage et légumes en se vantant auprès de Nicu que lui était un garçon de salon et que l’on n’aurait déchiré des feuilles que de là-bas, de l’introduction, partie que personne ne lit. – De la critique.

The Williams %R Indicator   You should use this tool to identify oversold and/or overbought stocks in the market. Here, you need to compare the stock's closing price with the high-low price range of a certain time period.   The formula of “%R” is simple: subtract the closing price of the stock from the lowest price of the past “N” number of days, and divide the value by the highest price minus the lowest price of the past “N” number of days. With this computation, you can determine the possible closing price of the stock for the next few days.

shim·stock n: a thin (8-12 micrometer) strip of polyester film used to identify the presence or absence of occlusal or proximal contacts

What are simple, transparent strategies for investing your money? Here are some examples if you want to play it safe. One third in stocks, one third in bonds, one third in real estate. This is the 1/N rule that we met before. Here, it means allocating your money equally between stocks, bonds, and real estate. Save 20 percent, spend 80 percent. Saving does not mean hiding money under your pillow, but rather investing it in the future. Diversify as broadly as you can—far more than experts tell you.21

Just fry the d**n bird,' gave me license to play. Michael Garrett, my sous chef at the time, and I turned chicken skin into cracklings and folded it into our deviled eggs. Our chicken and waffles came with a side of Chicken Liver Butter. We made Wild Wild Wings and our signature Bird Funk. At brunch we serve chicken liver omelets. Occasionally, we offer a dish called Just Fry the D**n Bird. Brioche and chicken liver, chicken gravy, every piece of the bird cooked in schmaltz. What I could do with chicken became the anchor of Red Rooster. The bird is our heartbeat, and it grounds our menu. We make use of every part of it. A ladle of chicken stock goes into just about everything.

In 1703, Gottfried von Leibniz commented to the Swiss scientist and mathematician Jacob Bernoulli that “[N]ature has established patterns originating in the return of events, but only for the most part,”1 thereby prompting Bernoulli to invent the Law of Large Numbers and methods of statistical sampling that drive modern activities as varied as opinion polling, wine tasting, stock picking, and the testing of new drugs.b Leibniz’s admonition—”but only for the most part”—was more profound than he may have realized, for he provided the key to why there is such a thing as risk in the first place: without that qualification, everything would be predictable, and in a world where every event is identical to a previous event no change would ever occur. In 1730, Abraham de Moivre suggested the structure of the normal distribution—also known as the bell curve—and discovered the concept of standard deviation. Together, these two concepts make up what is popularly known as the Law of Averages and are essential ingredients of modern techniques for quantifying risk. Eight years later, Daniel Bernoulli, Jacob’s nephew and an equally distinguished mathematician and scientist, first defined the systematic process by which most people make choices and reach decisions. Even more important, he propounded the idea that the satisfaction resulting from any small increase in wealth “will be inversely proportionate to the quantity of goods previously possessed.” With that innocent-sounding assertion, Bernoulli explained why King Midas was an unhappy man, why people tend to be risk-averse, and why prices must fall if customers are to be persuaded to buy more.

Human capital is of course much more equally distributed than ownership of factories or ships. We own ourselves, even if we are poor in stocks and bonds. Focusing on financial wealth is therefore misleading.

When was the last time a queen ruled here instead of a king? And look at what angry men do when they have power. We saw it in the underworld. Men run that city. Women are hanged, put in stocks, and whipped, all because men can’t bear the thought of women having the tiniest bit of control.

In the mid-twentieth century, the image of the masculinized Black woman found an identity in the form of “Sapphire,” a character in the Amos ’n’ Andy radio and television shows. By then, the stereotype had evolved into a rancorous nag—the stock angry Black woman.31 Sapphire doesn’t know a woman’s (submissive) place and is therefore emasculating and repellent to men.

Buffett’s approach to managing Berkshire’s stock investments has been distinguished by two primary characteristics: a high degree of concentration and extremely long holding periods. In each of these areas, his thinking is unconventional.

Everything we think of as a financial instrument today is a contract. A government bond, for instance, is a contract between the government and the bondholder to guarantee a series of payments in the future. A share of stock is a contract between the shareholder and the corporation that guarantees participation in the profits of the firm and a right to vote on its management. Although contracts existed before the invention of writing—and even before the invention of bullae—the hollow clay balls and their tokens are arguably the earliest archaeological evidence of contracts.

Il détestait les surprises, et espérait vivement que l'univers n'en eût plus trop en stock. De son côté, l'univers ricana.

C Current Quarterly Earnings and Sales: The Higher, the Better A Annual Earnings Increases: Look for Significant Growth N New Products, New Management, New Highs: Buying at the Right Time S Supply and Demand: Shares Outstanding Plus Big Volume Demand L Leader or Laggard: Which Is Your Stock? I Institutional Sponsorship: Follow the Leaders M Market Direction: How You Can Learn to Determine It

Dans le domaine de la justice criminelle, la matière première n’est autre que les prisonniers eux-mêmes, et l’industrie fera toujours ce qu’il faut pour s’en garantir un approvisionnement constant. Pour que ce stock de prisonniers augmente, les politiques de justice criminelle doivent fabriquer un nombre suffisant de prisonniers, quelle que soit l’augmentation ou la diminution de la criminalité et la nécessité réelle de la détention.

n the tropical climates of the Caribbean and the temperate climes of South America, where Christmas falls smack in the middle of summer, there is no Santa arriving on a sleigh, no jingle bells in the snow, no stockings hung on the mantel with care. it's a holiday for family, for grown-ups as well as children, celebrated with plenty of traditional food, drink, music, and dance. Nochebuena, Christmas Eve, is the night for la misa del gullo, “the rooster's mass," which begins at midnight.

in his stocking feet so as not to awaken Emilee or the children, Hans padded into the living room, walked past the Christmas tree, and moved into the small vestibule that served as his home office. Only then did he turn on a small desk lamp. He opened the drawer of his desk and withdrew the leatherbound book he had placed there earlier that day. He opened it to the first page and looked at the neatly lettered inscription: To My Beloved Hans Merry Christmas, 1932 From Emilee, Alisa, Jolanda, Hans Otto, Enrika, & Nikolaus Your Adoring Family Hans smiled and reread the handwritten message on the inside cover. Hans: A brief note of explanation. I can hear you saying to yourself as you read this: “Really? A journal? My

Chicken legs, beef ribs- they ate the food with their fingers, dipping into the horseradish sauce, feeding each other greedily. Laughing. They rolled leaves of cabbages and chewed on them like monkeys. They ate the golden potatoes as if they were apples. By the time they returned to the making of stock, and took the roasted veal bones from the stove and put them into the pot and filled it with enough cold water so that it could slowly simmer, their own legs no longer ached, their feet felt as if they could stand the weight of their bones for yet another day and they tasted of garlic and wine. "Thank you, chef," he said. "Thank you, chef." She opened the cheese larder and took out a wedge of runny Camembert, which she covered with a handful of white raspberries that he had draining in a colander by the sink. He opened a bottle of port. The dishes could wait. They sat on the back stairs of the tall thin house and looked over the lights of the steep city of Monte Carlo and out into the endless sea. The air was cool, the cheese and raspberries were rich and tart; the port was unfathomably complex with wave and wave of spiced cherries, burnt caramel and wild honey.

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