Ocular Quotes

The look in Manny´s eye was the ocular equivalent of a middle finger...

I'm going to stay here and see if he comes back," Wrath said as the double doors opened and V strode in. "I want the rest of you out searching for him in the city, but before you go, first let's get an update from our very own Katie Couric." He nodded at Vishous. "Katie?" V's glare was the ocular version of a fully extended middle finger

What do you mean, 'Angle of Repose?' she asked me when I dreamed we were talking about Grandmother's life, and I said it was the angle at which a man or woman finally lies down. I suppose it is; and yet ... I thought when I began, and still think, that there was another angle in all those years when she was growing old and older and very old, and Grandfather was matching her year for year, a separate line that did not intersect with hers. They were vertical people, they lived by pride, and it is only by the ocular illusion of perspective that they can be said to have met. But he had not been dead two months when she lay down and died too, and that may indicate that at that absolute vanishing point they did intersect. They had intersected for years, for more than he especially would ever admit.

Nell's husband has short-man syndrome. Eddie is one of those deadly dull people who is so upbeat that I suspect he would subconsciously like to go through the neighborhood, house by house, with a machine gun. He seems oblivious to the effect that his long, rambling monologues have on people - he doesn't notice the blank faces, the fingers flexing like those of people buried alive, the ocular tics. You could write down his words verbatim, show them to him, and he'd probably say, 'I know someone just like that!' Then he'd tell you about that person until your teeth hurt. His hostage-taking is passive-aggressive.

Soy una apasionada de los libros escritos por testigos oculares.

Still have your passport?" I feel my coat once more. "Got it." "Good." And then his hand is inside my pocket.My heart spazzes,but he doesn't notice.He pulls out my passport and flicks it open. WAIT.WHY DOES HE HAVE MY PASSPORT? His eyebrows shoot up.I try to snatch it back,but he holds it out of my reach. "Why are your eyes crossed?" He laughs. "Have you had some kind of ocular surgery I don't know about?" "Give it back?" Another grab and miss, and I change tactics and lunge for his coat instead. I snag his passport. "NO!" I open it up,and it's...baby St. Clair. "Dude.How old is this picture?" He slings my passport at me and snatches his back. "I was in middle school.

But the resurrection of a dead person from the grave, and his ascension through the air, is a thing very different, as to the evidence it admits of, to the invisible conception of a child in the womb. The resurrection and ascension, supposing them to have taken place, admitted of public and ocular demonstration, like that of the ascension of a balloon, or the sun at noon day, to all Jerusalem at least. A thing which everybody is required to believe, requires that the proof and evidence of it should be equal to all, and universal; and as the public visibility of this last related act was the only evidence that could give sanction to the former part, the whole of it falls to the ground, because that evidence never was given. Instead of this, a small number of persons, not more than eight or nine, are introduced as proxies for the whole world, to say they saw it, and all the rest of the world are called upon to believe it. But it appears that Thomas did not believe the resurrection; and, as they say, would not believe without having ocular and manual demonstration himself. So neither will I; and the reason is equally as good for me, and for every other person, as for Thomas.

Hoy ya vende brochettes de orejas y dedos a las que apoda “brochettes mixtas”. Vende licores con glóbulos oculares. Lengua a la vinagreta.

We see it [the as-yet unseen, probable new planet, Neptune] as Columbus saw America from the coast of Spain. Its movements have been felt, trembling along the far-reaching line of our analysis with a certainty hardly inferior to that of ocular demonstration.

Sticking your head in the sand does not prevent the tide from coming in.

There were no starry skies prior to the first sentient and ocular being to behold them. Before that all was blackness and silence.

... el nivel de decibelios estaba ya en las regiones donde el ruido es una fuerza sólida que hace vibrar los globos oculares. (...) Víctor aprovechó la ocasión para mirar a su alrededor ahora que (...) los tímpanos se le habían entumecido por pura piedad.

We should not be too quick to dismiss our own [ocular] arrangement. As so often in biology, the situation is more complex.....we have the advantage that our own light-sensitive cells are embedded directly in their support cells (the retinal pigment epithelium) with an excellent blood supply immediately underneath. Such an arrangement supports the continuous turnover of photosensitive pigments. The human retina consumes even more oxygen than the brain, per gram, making it the most energetic organ in the body.

All right," she snaps at the computer. "I get it. I'm slowing down! Gods!" "Activating Generic Ocular Display Sequence. G.O.D.S." The front of her shuttle goes transparent and Vol experiences a nauseating wave of vertigo. "No, that's not what I meant! It's an expression! What the hell?" "Error. Request must be made in the form of a command." "Oh, f*** you." "Error. Command not recognised." "I'm not surprised," Vol mutters.

Mr. Ching claims the superiority of Chinese hand-and-foot fighting, and promises ocular proof of such.

Dani: "Warlock! You, pal, are the proverbial sight for sore eyes!" Warlock: "Concern! Are selfriend's primary ocular sensors dysfunctional?

Ocular infidelity is unfortunately rampant in this so called "artist's world.

― Seu fofo! ― Conhecimento de causa? ― Testemunha ocular. ― Míope?! ― Especulação.

porque el nivel de decibelios estaba ya en las regiones donde el ruido es una fuerza sólida que hace vibrar los globos oculares.

Mrs V and Winky did not see eye-to-eye, and that had nothing to do with his deficiency in the ocular department. She wasn’t really a ‘cat person’.

I have detected," he said, "disturbances in the wash." ... Arthur asked him to repeat what he had just said because he hadn't quite understood his meaning. Ford repeated it. "The wash?" said Arthur. "The space time wash," said Ford. Arthur nodded, and then cleared his throat. "Are we talking about," he asked cautiously, "some sort of Vogon laundromat, or what are we talking about?" "Eddies," said Ford, "in the space-time continuum." "Ah," nodded Arthur, "is he. Is he." ... "What?" said Ford. "Er, who," said Arthur, "is Eddy, then, exactly, then?" Ford looked angrily at him. "Will you listen?" he snapped. "I have been listening," said Arthur, "but I'm not sure it's helped." Ford grasped him by the lapels of his dressing gown and spoke to him as slowly and distinctly and patiently as if he were somebody from the telephone company accounts department. "There seems..." he said, "to be some pools..." he said, "of instability," he said, "in the fabric..." he said. Arthur looked foolishly at the cloth of his dressing gown where Ford was holding it. Ford swept on before Arthur could turn the foolish look into a foolish remark. "...in the fabric of space-time," he said. "Ah, that," said Arthur. "Yes, that," confirmed Ford. They stood there alone on a hill on prehistoric Earth and stared each other resolutely in the face. "And it's done what?" said Arthur. "It," said Ford, "has developed pools of instability." "Has it," said Arthur, his eyes not wavering for a moment "It has," said Ford, with the similar degree of ocular immobility. "Good," said Arthur. "See?" said Ford. "No," said Arthur. There was a quiet pause. ... "Arthur," said Ford. "Hello? Yes?" said Arthur. "Just believe everything I tell you, and it will all be very, very simple." "Ah, well, I'm not sure I believe that." They sat down and composed their thoughts. Ford got out his Sub-Etha Sens-O-Matic. It was making vague humming noises and a tiny light on it was flickering faintly. "Flat battery?" said Arthur. "No," said Ford, "there is a moving disturbance in the fabric of space-time, an eddy, a pool of instability, and it's somewhere in our vicinity." ... "There!" said Ford, shooting out his arm; "there, behind that sofa!" Arthur looked. Much to his surprise, there was a velvet paisley-covered Chesterfield sofa in the field in front of them. He boggled intelligently at it. Shrewd questions sprang into his mind. "Why," he said, "is there a sofa in that field?" "I told you!" shouted Ford, leaping to his feet. "Eddies in the space-time continuum!" "And this is his sofa, is it?" ... 12 chapters pass ... "All will become clear," said Slartibartfast. "When?" "In a minute. Listen. The time streams are now very polluted. There's a lot of muck floating about in them, flotsam and jetsam, and more and more of it is now being regurgitated into the physical world. Eddies in the space-time continuum, you see." "So I hear," said Arthur.

The first sentence was "This tome will endeavor to scrutinize, in quasi-inclusive breadth, the epistemology of ophthalmologically contrived appraisals of ocular systems and the subsequent and requisite exertions imperative for expugnation of injurious states," and as Violet read it out loud to her sister, both children felt the dread that comes when you begin a very boring and difficult book.

The clear liquid in our eyes is seawater and therefore there are fish in our eyes, seawater being the natural medium of fish. Since blue and green are the colours of the richest seawater, blue and green eyes are the fishiest. Dark eyes are somewhat less fecund and albino eyes are nearly fishless, sadly so. But the quantity of fish in an eye means nothing. A single tigerfish can be as beautiful, as powerful, as an entire school of seafaring tuna. That science has never observed ocular fish does nothing to refute my theory; on the contrary, it emphasizes the key hypothesis, which is: love is the food of eye fish and only love will bring them out. So to look closely into someone's eyes with cold, empirical interest is like the rude tap-tap of a finder on an aquarium, which only makes the fish flee. In a similar vein, when I took to looking at myself closely in mirrors during the turmoil of adolescence, the fact that I saw nothing in my eyes, not even the smallest guppy or tadpole, said something about my unhappiness and lack of faith in myself at the time. ...I no longer believe in eye fish in [i]fact[/i], but still do in metaphor. In the passion of an embrace, when breath, the win, is at its loudest and skin at its saltiest, I still nearly think that I could stop things and hear, feel, the rolling of the sea. I am still nearly convinced that, when my love and I kiss, we will be blessed with the sight of angelfish and sea-horses rising to the surface of our eyes, these fish being the surest proof of our love. In spite of everything, I sill profoundly believe that love is something oceanic.

The reason for point particles is that if you stick something ugly in there—such as physical reality—the equations don’t work. A point devoid of physical being leaves you with location. And a location with a reference to some other location can’t be expressed. Some of the difficulty with quantum mechanics has to reside in the problem coming to terms with the simple fact that there is no such thing as information in and of itself independent of the apparatus necessary to its perception. There were no starry skies prior to the first sentient and ocular being to behold them. Before that all was blackness and silence.

Podría dar la fórmula química de la lágrima. Pero sería una tontería. Todos sabemos que la lágrima no es nada más que unas letras mayúsculas y unos números chiquititos, un líquido que sirve para lavar el globo ocular. La lágrima lava también otras cosas. A veces es una pregunta. A veces es una respuesta. Pero siempre es un mensaje. Y nace lejos de los ojos.

With baseline human sight, he could see four thousand stars. Between those, emptiness yawned wide and endless. If he telescoped his ocular implants, he might see five times that number, but the space between them would also multiply, bringing new, trackless voids into being. The view tasted like the fugue: seeing all the cosmos and not only knowing it to be a void, but being part of that void.

Phobologic discipline is comprised of twenty-eight exercises, each focusing upon a separate nexus of the nervous system. The five primaries are the knees and hams, lungs and heart, loins and bowels, the lower back, and the girdle of the shoulders, particularly the trapezius muscles, which yoke the shoulder to the neck. A secondary nexus, for which the Lakedaemonians have twelve more exercises, is the face, specifically the muscles of the jaw, the neck and the four ocular constrictors around the eye sockets. These nexuses are termed by the Spartans phobosynakteres, fear accumulators. Fear spawns in the body, phonologic science teaches, and must be combated there. For once the flesh is seized, a phobokyklos, or loop of fear, may commence, feeding upon itself, mounting into a “runaway” of terror. Put the body into a state of phobia, fearlessness, the Spartans believe, and the mind will follow.

Instead of this, a small number of persons, not more than eight or nine, are introduced as proxies for the whole world, to say they saw it, and all the rest of the world are called upon to believe it. But it appears that Thomas did not believe the resurrection; and, as they say, would not believe without having ocular and manual demonstration himself. So neither will I; and the reason is equally as good for me, and for every other person, as for Thomas.

¿Donde residen los recuerdos de las personas? ¿En los patrones de conexiones sinápticas del cerebro? ¿Tienen también los globos oculares o las yemas de los dedos capacidad para recordar? ¿O quizás existe en algún lugar una especie de masa espiritual, incorpórea e invisible como la bruma, que los hospeda? Algo así como a lo que la gente llama corazón, espíritu o alma. Como una tarjeta de memoria metida en el sistema operativo. ¿Y qué pasaría si la quitáramos?

The resurrection and ascension, supposing them to have taken place, admitted of public and ocular demonstration, like that of the ascension of a balloon, or the sun at noon day, to all Jerusalem at least. A thing which everybody is required to believe, requires that the proof and evidence of it should be equal to all, and universal; and as the public visibility of this last related act was the only evidence that could give sanction to the former part, the whole of it falls to the ground, because that evidence never was given. Instead of this, a small number of persons, not more than eight or nine, are introduced as proxies for the whole world, to say they saw it, and all the rest of the world are called upon to believe it. But it appears that Thomas did not believe the resurrection; and, as they say, would not believe without having ocular and manual demonstration himself. So neither will I; and the reason is equally as good for me, and for every other person, as for Thomas. It

A major push is under way to figure out the molecular basis of those "critical" or "sensitive" periods, to figure out how the brain changes as certain learning abilities come and go. In some, if not all, of those mammals that have the alternating stripes in the visual cortex known as ocular dominance columns, those columns can be adjusted early in development, but not in adulthood. A juvenile monkey that has one eye covered for an extended period of time can gradually readjust its brain wiring to favor the open eye; an adult monkey cannot adjust its wiring. At the end of a critical period, a set of sticky sugar-protein hybrids known as proteoglycans condenses into a tight net around the dendrites and cell bodies of some of the relevant neurons, and in so doing those proteoglycans appear to impede axons that would otherwise be wriggling around as part of the process of readjusting the ocular dominance columns; no wriggling, no learning. In a 2002 study with rats, Italian neuroscientist Tommaso Pizzorusso and his colleagues dissolved the excess proteoglycans with an antiproteoglycan enzyme known as "chABC," and in so doing managed to reopen the critical period. After the chABC treatment, even adult rats could recalibrate their ocular dominance columns. ChABC probably won't help us learn second languages anytime soon, but its antiproteoglycan function may have important medical implications in the not-too-distant future. Another 2002 study, also with rats, showed that chABC can also promote functional recovery after spinal cord injury.

The resurrection and ascension, supposing them to have taken place, admitted of public and ocular demonstration, like that of the ascension of a balloon, or the sun at noon day, to all Jerusalem at least. A thing which everybody is required to believe, requires that the proof and evidence of it should be equal to all, and universal; and as the public visibility of this last related act was the only evidence that could give sanction to the former part, the whole of it falls to the ground, because that evidence never was given.

Barrons’ head whipped around and he stared at me. You said nothing of this to me? You said nothing to me about my mother? What do you know about her? About me? His dark gaze promised retribution for my oversight. So did mine. I hated this. Barrons and I were enemies. It confused my head and hurt my heart. I’d grieved him as if I’d lost the only person who mattered to me, and now here we were, adversaries again. Were we destined to be eternal enemies? One of us is going to have to trust the other, I told him. Your first, Ms. Lane. That was the whole problem. Neither of us would take the risk. I had a lengthy list of reasons why I shouldn’t, and they were sound. My daddy could take the case all the way to the Supreme Court, arguing my side. Barrons didn’t inspire trust. He didn’t even bother trying. When hell freezes over, Barrons. Same bloody page, Ms. Lane. Same bloody— I turned my gaze away in the middle of his sentence, the ocular equivalent of flipping him the bird. Ryodan was watching us, hard. “Butt out,” I warned. “This is between him and me. All you need to do is keep my parents safe and—” “Little hard to do when you’re such a fucking loose cannon.

principles. 14. It is perhaps just dawning on five or six minds that natural philosophy is only a world-exposition and world-arrangement (according to us, if I may say so!) and NOT a world-explanation; but in so far as it is based on belief in the senses, it is regarded as more, and for a long time to come must be regarded as more—namely, as an explanation. It has eyes and fingers of its own, it has ocular evidence and palpableness of its own: this operates fascinatingly, persuasively, and CONVINCINGLY upon an age with fundamentally plebeian tastes—in fact, it follows instinctively the canon of truth of

Aton poured a glass of amber liquid from a crystal decanter. “Do you know how I was able to grow my empire so quickly, so efficiently?” The General rolled the khaki sleeve up his right arm and punched a series of alphanumeric symbols into the keypad embedded in his powerful forearm. “Service, alpha, nine, kilo, four, five, delta, security protocol, voice print, command, shut down all non-essential systems, routine maintenance. Reboot and activate all systems upon further command.” The General’s ocular implants powered down, and his sullen, muddy-brown eyes twitched to life, fixing upon Aton. “The carrot and the stick, sir.

But trivial as are the topics they are not utterly without a connecting thread of motive. As the reader's eye strays, with hearty relief, from these pages, it probably alights on something, a bed-post or a lamp-post, a window blind or a wall. It is a thousand to one that the reader is looking at something that he has never seen: that is, never realised. He could not write an essay on such a post or wall: he does not know what the post or wall mean. He could not even write the synopsis of an essay; as "The Bed-Post; Its Significance—Security Essential to Idea of Sleep—Night Felt as Infinite—Need of Monumental Architecture," and so on. He could not sketch in outline his theoretic attitude towards window-blinds, even in the form of a summary. "The Window-Blind—Its Analogy to the Curtain and Veil—Is Modesty Natural?—Worship of and Avoidance of the Sun, etc., etc." None of us think enough of these things on which the eye rests. But don't let us let the eye rest. Why should the eye be so lazy? Let us exercise the eye until it learns to see startling facts that run across the landscape as plain as a painted fence. Let us be ocular athletes. Let us learn to write essays on a stray cat or a coloured cloud. I have attempted some such thing in what follows; but anyone else may do it better, if anyone else will only try.

It seems, however, to be otherwise with stronger and livelier thinkers who are still eager for life. In that they side against appearance, and speak superciliously of "perspective," in that they rank the credibility of their own bodies about as low as the credibility of the ocular evidence that "the earth stands still," and thus, apparently, allowing with complacency their securest possession to escape (for what does one at present believe in more firmly than in one's body?),--who knows if they are not really trying to win back something which was formerly an even securer possession, something of the old domain of the faith of former times, perhaps the "immortal soul," perhaps "the old God," in short, ideas by which they could live better, that is to say, more vigorously and more joyously, than by "modern ideas"? There is distrust of these modern ideas in this mode of looking at things, a disbelief in all that has been constructed yesterday and today; there is perhaps some slight admixture of satiety and scorn, which can no longer endure the bric-a-brac of ideas of the most varied origin, such as so-called Positivism at present throws on the market; a disgust of the more refined taste at the village-fair motleyness and patchiness of all these reality-philosophasters, in whom there is nothing either new or true, except this motleyness. Therein it seems to me that we should agree with those skeptical anti-realists and knowledge-microscopists of the present day; their instinct, which repels them from modern reality, is unrefuted... what do their retrograde by-paths concern us! The main thing about them is not that they wish to go "back," but that they wish to get away therefrom. A little more strength, swing, courage, and artistic power, and they would be off--and not back!

Ro counted to three, waiting for the station's tired AI to parse her request and decide to give her access. The round door irised in silence. Daedalus didn't even bother to acknowledge her. Wiggling her middle finger at the recessed ocular, she stepped through the opening into the central nexus. She needed to get as far away from her quarters and her father as she could despite the confines of the station.

Anyway, you're to have four sets- to match jewels, I suppose- white gold, pale gold, yellow gold and rose gold. Can't have your oculars clashing with your bracelets, I suppose. I'll send the 'prentice up with them later. I'm waiting for the frames to cool now." "If the Princess is not here, you can leave them with her handmaiden, Iris," Lady Thalia put in, and came around to take a look at the Sophont's handiwork. She blinked. "Good heavens. That is 'much' more flattering!" "Yes, it is," Balan agreed with a lopsided smile. "Now you can see what pretty eyes she has. Well, I'm off! Lady Thalia, it was a pleasure meeting you. Princess, a delight to serve you!" As soon as he was out of the room, Andie was out of the chair. Picking up the skirt of her gown this time to keep it from tripping her, she ran to her bedroom to peer into the little mirror over her dressing table. The difference was astounding. The old oculars had been small, vaguely rectangular, and had cut across her face like a slash mark. These were large, circular and, for the first time, did not obscure her eyes. If anything, they made her eyes look bigger, like those of a young animal, soft and giving an impression of innocence and vulnerability. The frame, of white gold, was very simple and polished, somehow less fussy than Balan's frame of twisted wire had been. "Gracious!" Iris exclaimed. "What a difference!" "You don't think they look-well- 'owlish'?" Lady Thalia asked, a little doubtfully. "Not a bit!" Iris declared. "Just look how big they make her eyes look! And 'you've' heard all those daft poets, my Lady, going on about a girl's eyes supposed to be like a doe's, or big pools of water!

As she sat there, her feeling of loneliness increased. And this was strange, because she had always been solitary, and did not usually feel lonely when alone. But she watched Gina with Adam and- -and she realized that she wasn't happy being solitary anymore. But the person she was happiest with wasn't a person. It was Periapt. Being with him was like being with the perfect companion. He was clever. He was kind, at least to her- though he had been scathing with the fox, and once or twice with Cleo, whom he regarded as being rather too full of herself. They found the same kinds of things funny, they enjoyed the same sorts of books, and it was getting so that they could finish each other's sentences. She was never happier than when she was curled up with him, having a lively discussion over some obscure point in a book. In fact, simply being with him made her happy- happy in a way that no human male had ever made her feel. Maybe it was simply that he didn't take long, doubtful glances at her oculars, or act polite while all the time he was actually bored. That realization made her feel very odd indeed. And she wasn't entirely sure what to make of it.

I look over at Satan’s Cat in the corner, and of course she starts it again. She widens her eyes. I sigh loudly, but not enough to deter her. Another staring contest. This is probably somewhere around our fifteenth in two days. It goes like this. Satan’s Cat stares into my eyes. I stare into Satan’s Cat’s eyes. After a few minutes I get freaked out and jump off the couch, usually screaming the same string of trilingual curse words as before because she has the most terrifying eyes in the world. They’re amber with long black flecks in them that look like slivers, and I swear after about thirty seconds they start spinning like pinwheels and she’s actually grinning at me the whole time—EVEN THOUGH CATS CAN’T GRIN!—probably because she knows she’s stretching her evil out and into my brain. Demonic ocular poisoning. I’d Google it if I weren’t so afraid of what I’d see. Whatever. Maybe this time I’ll win.

So, my ocular nerves are fair game?” Will says, unbuckling to get out of the car. “I could repair them. Despite being a super-genius, it’d be hard to operate on myself.” “If

They summarize several extra-articular manifestations of RD including epithelial (skin), ocular, oral, gastrointestinal , pulmonary, cardiac, renal , neurological, and hematological.

If we would think-to-speak at an adaptive, and comprehensible ear-speed of human sound, we might vastly hear so much more, than the expensive sensory gift of ocular attention, could afford.

When we direct our eyes looking forward from the corner of the temple in its normal field of vision, the frontal brain is working with analysis (vitarka). But when we spread our ocular awareness from the back corner of the temple, near the ear, the back brain is brought into play and works with synthesis (vicara). He front brain can dismantle because of its powerful penetration. The back brain is holistic and reassembles.

ocular albinism.

A loud mew distracted my ocular reconnaissance, and the cat rubbed her little head on my ankles. Marianne had been right; this cat had ninja stealth qualities. I hadn't seen her follow me into the apartment. "Did my grand-mère send you here?" I asked. The cat purred so loud my heart almost burst. It was as if she understood my life, me, and what I was about to do. She may have been damaged, but weren't we all? Didn't every creature large or small need a second chance at life and at love? I sat down on the sisal-covered flooring to pet her. "I want to keep you. What do you think of that? Of course, I'll ask Marianne if Claude will be okay with that. But I think we have a bond. I'm kind of a stray too." Her paw gripped my finger. She'd claimed me, and I realized it wasn't the other way around. "I'm going to name you Étoile. It means 'star' in French," I said, stroking her fuzzy head. "You're moving to the countryside. What do you think of that?" Yes, I was talking to a cat, and she seemed to be listening. Her one good eye closed in a slow blink. I think she was giving me the go-ahead to catnap her.

Lembrete, mesmo que fossem testemunhos oculares, isso não seria o suficiente. Existem muitas pessoas que dizem serem testemunhas oculares, e foram elas mesmas, levadas por extraterrestres, e experimentado nelas. Outras dizem que viram o chupa-cabra. Pode parecer que estou propositalmente tentando ridiculizar religião, mas isso não é intencional. Se houvesse outra forma de mostrar o quão é ridículo a Bíblia e suas afirmações extraordinários, eu o faria, e já tentei no passado. Não funciona.

In the words of Paul Johnson: The Temple, now, in Herod’s1 version, rising triumphantly over Jerusalem, was an ocular reminder that Judaism was about Jews and their history—not about anyone else. Other gods flew across the deserts from the East without much difficulty, jettisoning the inconvenient and embarrassing accretions from their past, changing, as it were, their accents and manners as well as their names. But the God of the Jews was still alive and roaring in his Temple, demanding blood, making no attempt to conceal his racial and primitive origins. Herod’s fabric was elegant, modern, sophisticated—he had, indeed, added some Hellenic decorative effects much resented by fundamentalist Jews who constantly sought to destroy them—but nothing could hide the essential business of the Temple, which was the ritual slaughter, consumption, and combustion of sacrificial cattle on a gigantic scale. The place was as vast as a small city. There were literally thousands of priests, attendants, temple-soldiers, and minions. To the unprepared visitor, the dignity and charity of Jewish disapora life, the thoughtful comments and homilies of the Alexandrian synagogue, was quite lost amid the smoke of the pyres, the bellows of terrified beasts, the sluices of blood, the abattoir stench, the unconcealed and unconcealable machinery of tribal religion inflated by modern wealth to an industrial scale. Sophisticated Romans who knew the Judaism of the diaspora found it hard to understand the hostility towards Jews shown by colonial officials who, behind a heavily-armed escort, had witnessed Jerusalem at festival time. Diaspora Judaism, liberal and outward-minded, contained the matrix of a universal religion, but only if it could be cut off from its barbarous origins; and how could so thick and sinewy an umbilical cord be severed? This description of “Herod’s” Temple (actually the Second Temple, built in the sixth century B.C. and rebuilt by Herod) is more than a bit overwrought. The God of the Jews did not roar in his Temple: the insoluble problem was that, since the destruction of the First Temple and, with it, the Ark of the Covenant, God had ceased to be present in his Temple. Nor would animal sacrifice have disgusted the gentiles, since Greeks, Romans, and all ancient peoples offered such sacrifices (though one cannot help wondering whether, had the Second Temple not been destroyed, it would today be ringed from morn to night by indignant animal-rights activists). But Johnson is right to emphasize that Judaism, in its mother city, could display a sweaty tribalism that gentiles would only find unattractive. The partisan, argumentative ambience of first-century Jerusalem, not unlike the atmosphere of the ultra-Orthodox pockets of the contemporary city, could repel any outsider, whether gentile or diaspora Jew. Perhaps most important is Johnson’s shrewd observation that Judaism “contained the matrix of a universal religion.” By this time, the more percipient inhabitants of the Greco-Roman world had come to the conclusion that polytheism, whatever manifestation it might assume, was seriously flawed. The Jews alone, by offering monotheism, offered a unitive vision, not the contradictory and flickering epiphanies of a fanciful pantheon of gods and goddesses. But could Judaism adapt to gentile needs, could it lose its foreign accent and outlandish manners? No one saw the opportunity more clearly than Luke; his gospel and its sequel, the Acts of the Apostles, present a Jesus and a Jesus Movement specifically tailored to gentile sensibility.

My office is over here—” He stopped. Frowned. Looked about. Had to backtrack to the kitchen in order to find the various parties. Sola’s grandmother had her head in the Sub-Zero refrigerator, rather as if she were a gnome looking for a cool place in the summer. “Madam?” Assail inquired. She shut the door and moved on to the floor-to-ceiling cabinets. “There is nothing here. Nothing. What do you eat?” “Ah . . .” Assail found himself looking at the cousins for aid. “Usually we take our meals in town.” The scoffing sound certainly appeared like the old-lady equivalent of Fuck that. “I need the staples.” She pivoted on her little shiny shoes and put her hands on her hips. “Who is taking me to supermarket.” Not an inquiry. And as she stared up at the three of them, it appeared as though Ehric and his violent killer of a twin were as nonplussed as Assail was. The evening had been planned out to the minute—and a trip to the local Hannaford was not on the list. “You two are too thin,” she announced, flicking her hand in the direction of the twins. “You need to eat.” Assail cleared his throat. “Madam, you have been brought here for your safety.” He was not going to permit Benloise to up the stakes—and so he’d had to lock down potential collateral damage. “Not to be a cook.” “You have already refused the money. I no stay here for free. I earn my keep. That is the way it will be.” Assail exhaled long and slow. Now he knew where Sola got her independent streak. “Well?” she demanded. “I no drive. Who takes me.” “Madam, would you not prefer to rest—” “Your body rest when dead. Who.” “We do have an hour,” Ehric hedged. As Assail glared at the other vampire, the little old lady hitched her purse up on her forearm and nodded. “So he will take me.” Assail met Sola’s grandmother’s gaze directly and dropped his tone a register just so that the line drawn would be respected. “I pay. Are we clear—you are not to spend a cent.” She opened her mouth as if to argue, but she was headstrong—not foolish. “Then I do the darning.” “Our clothes are in sufficient shape—” Ehric cleared his throat. “Actually, I have a couple of loose buttons. And the Velcro strip on his flak jacket is—” Assail looked over his shoulder and bared his fangs at the idiot—out of eyesight of Sola’s grandmother, of course. Remarshaling his expression, he turned back around and— Knew he’d lost. The grandmother had one of those brows cocked, her dark eyes as steady as any foe’s he’d ever faced. Assail shook his head. “I cannot believe I’m negotiating with you.” “And you agree to terms.” “Madam—” “Then it is settled.” Assail threw up his hands. “Fine. You have forty-five minutes. That is all.” “We be back in thirty.” At that, she turned and headed for the door. In her diminutive wake, the three vampires played ocular Ping-Pong. “Go,” Assail gritted out. “Both of you.” The cousins stalked for the garage door—but they didn’t make it. Sola’s grandmother wheeled around and put her hands on her hips. “Where is your crucifix?” Assail shook himself. “I beg your pardon?” “Are you no Catholic?” My dear sweet woman, we are not human, he thought. “No, I fear not.” Laser-beam eyes locked on him. Ehric. Ehric’s brother. “We change this. It is God’s will.” And out she went, marching through the mudroom, ripping open the door, and disappearing into the garage. As that heavy steel barrier closed automatically, all Assail could do was blink.

Some declare that action should be shunned and that salvation is attainable by knowledge. The Brahmanas say that though one may have a knowledge of eatable things, yet his hunger will not be appeased unless he actually eats. Those branches of knowledge that help the doing of work, bear fruit, but not other kinds, for the fruit of work is of ocular demonstration. A thirsty person drinks water, and by that act his thirst is allayed. This result proceeds, no doubt, from work. Therein lies the efficacy of work. If anyone thinks that something else is better than work, I deem, his work and his words are meaningless.

WITH EACH KISS   Here in each other’s arms neither of us are very opt for the use of words as both of us know that there are only so many things that can be said. This veracious and solicitous gaze that she gives to me coruscates round the ocular corona of her delicate and divine features of which she does commend to me within her voluptuous embrace. The creamy eglantine, sanguine, and fuchsia of her vivifying kiss enfolds a sedative ellipse over mine that turns me into vapor. More to me than any other part of her that is absolutely diamond it is her ardent and decided kiss that is most dear to me. The dangling kinks in her hair slide gently down the sides of my face, she avidly making me the counterpoint to her sensual exigency. With each kiss she disarms me and heals me of my heartsick love. With each kiss I am where the veil between here and heaven has broken.

I’m going to stay here and see if he comes back,” Wrath said as the double doors opened and V strode in. “I want the rest of you out searching for him in the city, but before you go, first let’s get an update from our very own Katie Couric.” He nodded at Vishous. “Katie?” V’s glare was the ocular version of a fully extended middle finger, but he got on with it. -Wrath & V

leaking ocular jelly.

cualquier interrupción en el suministro de glucógeno debida a una mala función hepática suele reflejarse en trastornos oculares; cuando se enfrentan a un problema en los ojos, los médicos chinos siempre examinan el hígado antes que nada; una corriente sanguínea contaminada también puede ser causa de graves trastornos oculares.

Problemas oculares Se ha registrado un informe de un paciente que sufrió daño ocular grave que resultó en ceguera debido al tratamiento con movimientos oculares. Esto ocurrió en manos de un terapeuta que no estaba formado en el uso de EMDR. Aparentemente, a pesar de que el paciente indicaba dolor ocular constante, el clínico, que no tenía conocimiento de los efectos del tratamiento EMDR, continuó aplicando las tandas de movimientos oculares. Bajo ninguna circunstancia se debe continuar con el procesamiento EMDR si el paciente indica dolor de ojos. Si esto ocurre, el clínico debe usar formas alternativas de estimulación. Lo mismo se aplica para los pacientes que no pueden realizar tandas continuas de movimientos oculares por debilidad de los músculos oculares.

This tome will endeavor to scrutinize, in quasi-inclusive breadth, the epistemology of ophthalmologically contrived appraisals of ocular systems and the subsequent and requisite exertions imperative for expugnation of injurious states,

The buzz got stuck under the Table but I solved the clue.

Vision care is a necessity for enhancing and prolonging the quality of good eye sight.

I turned to look him in the eyes, unblinking. One of the few handy side effects of retinal KA is the lack of a need for repeated ocular lubrication—or, in layman’s terms, I don’t blink much.

When we direct our eyes looking forward from the corner of the temple in its normal field of vision, the frontal brain is working with analysis (vitarka). But when we spread our ocular awareness from the back corner of the temple, near the ear, the back brain is brought into play and works with synthesis (vicara). The front brain can dismantle because of its powerful penetration. The back brain is holistic and reassembles. If you find this difficult to imagine, just think what happens when you first walk into a great medieval cathedral. Your eyes may appear to focus on what is before them, the altar for example, but your real awareness takes in the whole immense volume of the space surrounding you, its grandeur and the hum of its ancient silence. This is holistic meditative vision. While working in asana, if the action is “done” solely from the front brain, it blocks the reflective action of the back brain. The form of each asana needs to be reflected to the wisdom body (vijnanamaya kosa) for readjustment and realignment. Whenever asana is done mechanically from the front brain, the action is felt only on the peripheral body, and there is no inner sensation, there is no luminous inner light. If the asana is done with continual reference to the back of the brain, there is a reaction to each action, and there is sensitivity. Then life is not only dynamic, but it is also electrified with life force.

Bach and Handel were both blinded by the same ocular surgeon.

What would she eat? Meat? Vegan? Vegetarian? Pescatarian? More important, would her taste buds be open to spices? I call this research ocular reconnaissance. The woman meanders toward one of the butchers and points to a goliath-sized leg of lamb---definitely a carnivore. I wonder how she'd prepare her meal---perhaps with slices of garlic stuffed into the meatiest parts of the top, slow roasted with rosemary, with potatoes on the side, the juices, the herbs, infusing into everything. Served with a mint sauce? Or is she the type who colors outside the lines and does something less traditional?

The abstract idea is that the correction had to be in Time.

Algunas de estas técnicas son muy retorcidas y las investigaciones han demostrado que elevan las probabilidades de obtener confesiones falsas: mentir acerca de la existencia de huellas incriminatorias o de testigos oculares; presionar a los sospechosos para que se imaginen repetidas veces cometiendo el crimen; y colocar en un estado psicológico nebuloso a través de la privación de sueño y de los interrogatorios incesantes y exhaustivos. Los defensores de estas tácticas afirman que están diseñadas para extraer la verdad.

Em 14 de setembro, os bombardeamentos foram particularmente intensos. Para os 393 mil judeus de Varsóvia, um terço da população da cidade, esse era um dia santo e, em geral, festivo, o ano-novo judeu. “Precisamente quando as sinagogas estavam cheias”, anotou em seu diário uma testemunha ocular, “Nalewki, o bairro judeu de Varsóvia, começou a ser bombardeado.

Vivemos o privilégio de ser testemunhas oculares dessa transformação e, ainda assim, muitas vezes experimentamos em nossa esperança de um mundo melhor o efeito corrosivo da rotina cotidiana. Já temos todo o conhecimento necessário para mudar o mundo e levar a experiência de humanidade a sua plenitude, mas ainda vemos nossa sociedade estagnada em antigos paradigmas. Por quê? Por que não o fazemos? O que nos falta, se todos os dias tropeçamos em novas evidências de nosso potencial enquanto humanidade? Por que não instalamos agora mesmo o que o mestre chamou de “Reino de Deus” no planeta Terra? Por que não viver a plenitude da experiência humana hoje mesmo? A resposta pode estar dentro de nós de uma forma que jamais imaginamos: somos viciados, em nível celular, em ser quem somos. Estamos tão condicionados ao antigo paradigma que vemos nosso potencial criativo castrado pela corrupção de nosso ânimo, estamos anestesiados por uma forma de pensar que já não faz sentido, mas reluta em dar espaço ao novo.

He laughed a lot, and this would have been the moment to leave him, and go on our way. We should probably have escaped without further trouble if Templer—feeling no doubt that Stringham had been occupying too much of the stage—had not begun to shoot out radiations towards Le Bas, long and short, like an ocular Morse code, saying at the same time in his naturally rather harsh voice: ‘I am afraid we very nearly jumped on you, sir.