Par For The Course Quotes

Love is a combination of admiration, respect, and passion. If you have one of those going, that's par for the course. If you have two, you aren't quite world class but you're close. If you have all three, then you don't need to die; you're already in heaven.

The idea of white privilege forces white people who aren’t actively racist to confront their own complicity in its continuing existence. White privilege is dull, grinding complacency. It is par for the course in a world in which drastic race inequality is responded to with a shoulder shrug, considered just the norm.

He was your usual man when it came to romance, which is to say he couldn’t recite Baa Baa Black Sheep when sober, whereas when drunk, sixteen cantos of Byron’s Don Juan was par for the course.

Suz, carrying Savich's plate, the scrambled eggs steaming, stopped to stare after Rachael. 'Isn't this par for the course--a sexy guy with two girls--I'll just bet the little readhead here threatened to whomp the blonde with that cute braid, right?' 'You're very observant, Suz,' Savich said. Sherlock rolled her eyes.

I used to think all that game playing was par for the course and even kind of exciting. It just felt logical to pursue a boy the same way I applied to college—by expending exorbitant time and energy showing what a great catch I am and what a perfect match we’d be, so that after a lengthy waiting period I might get accepted. But now the idea of reliving any version of that charade seems like hell.

Iraq.” As much as twenty percent of returning veterans from Iraq had post-traumatic stress, some thought even more. Aiden’s anxiety was par for the course. Duncan wondered why he hadn’t gotten therapy at the VA.

I'm buried beneath an avalanche of papers, I don't understand the language of the country, and what do I do about a kid who calls me "Hi, teach!"? Syl INTRASCHOOL COMMUNICATION FROM: Room 508 TO: Room 304 Nothing. Maybe he calls you Hi, teach! because he likes you. Why not answer Hi, pupe? The clerical work is par for the course. "Keep on file in numerical order" means throw in waste-basket. You'll soon learn the language. "Let it be a challenge to you" means you're stuck with it; "interpersonal relationships" is a fight between kids; "ancillary civic agencies for supportive discipline" means call the cops; "Language Arts Dept." is the English office; "literature based on child's reading level and experiential background" means that's all they've got in the Book Room; "non-academic-minded" is a delinquent; and "It has come to my attention" means you're in trouble.

Par for the course when it comes to the Branch. They're always holding people prisoner, and people are always trying to break free.

Rocky beginnings are par for the course for every great romance.

For all the investment in the creation of Europa-1, you'd think Earth would have been more interested in preserving us. Instead, the last thing we'd heard had been reports of a worldwide nuclear launch, then silence. Emptiness. Nothing but the occasional blast of celestial noise reached our frozen home as it orbited the looming gargantuan that was Jupiter. It was a cold sort of reality that we'd been abandoned by our home world. But it was a cold day beneath the ice, so really, that was just par for the course.

Oui, moi aussi, je m'étais souvent demandé: comment font les gents? Et à vrai dire, si ces questions étaient modifiées, elles n'avaient jamais cessé: comment font les gents, pour écrire, aimer, dormir d'une seule traite, varier les menus de leurs enfants, les laisser grandir, les laisser partir sans s'accrocher à eux, aller une fois par an chez le dentiste, faire du sport, rester fidèle, ne pas recommencer à fumer, lire des livres + des bandes dessinées + des magazines + un quotidien, ne pas être totalement dépassé en matière de musique, apprendre à respirer, ne pas s'exposer au soleil sans protection, faire leurs courses une seule fois par semaine sans rien oublier?

I eventually signed up for breakfast duty not out of kindness but because I wanted my breakfast to be the gold standard. Yes, I cringe with humiliation as I publicly share such hubris, but as a self-righteous perfectionist, I was obsessed with keeping score, avoiding failure, and being impressive. Comparison and judgment were par for the course.*

Je suis exténué par mes courses en fiacre sur le maca- dam parisien et je me remets à la besogne.

Singurii oameni care încă ni se par normal sunt cei pe care nu-i cunoaștem îndeajuns. Cel mai bun leac pentru iubire e să apucăm să-i cunoaștem mai bine.

Robin salua le départ du bandit par un rire joyeux, sacrifia une dernière flèche qui, après l’avoir éperonné pendant sa course, devait l’empêcher de longtemps de s’asseoir en repos.

I stared at my illustrious leader for a moment, puzzled. “Isn’t that obvious? Who would be crazy enough to try close-range combat with that thing?” Chi sidled up and explained slowly, “MISD agents are not well known for their survival instincts.” I met him look for look. “I thought that was just you.” “No, I’m sadly par for the course.” “That’s disturbing.” It also explained a lot.

si les Américains s'étaient donné autant de mal pour le désarmement que pour envoyer un pauvre type sur la lune, ou coller des rayures roses dans le dentifrice, on l'aurait depuis longtemps, le désarmement. (...) le plus grand péché de l'Occident était de croire qu'il pouvait foutre en l'air le système soviétique par une surenchère dans la course aux armements, parce que dans ce cas-là, on jouait avec le destin de l'humanité. Et qu'en mettant sabre au clair, l'Ouest avait fourni un bon prétexte aux dirigeants soviétiques pour garder leur rideau baissé et instituer un État militaire. (chapitre 4)

This kind of understanding—seeing the world (as we rather tritely say today) from the other fellow's point of view—is the political kind of insight par excellence. If we wanted to define, traditionally, the one outstanding virtue of the statesman, we could say that it consists in understanding the greatest possible number and variety of realities—not of subjective viewpoints, which of course also exist but which do not concern us here—as those realities open themselves up to the various opinions of citizens; and, at the same time, in being able to communicate between the citizens and their opinions so that the commonness of this world becomes apparent.

One severed head was par to the course. A regularity that Evie had grown alarmingly accustomed to in the time she had been working here. But three male heads dangled there now, their mouths open in a silent scream, like they’d left this life in abject terror.

But attentiveness, consideration, compliments, small and large kindnesses, feeling truly loved, having someone put you first while you put them first because you’re in cahoots to make each other’s lives easier and better: most people do like that, when it’s thoughtful and sincere. It’s here, more than in the big gestures, that romance lives: in being actively caring and thoughtful, in a way that is reciprocal but not transactional. And yet, for most of my life, I never would have asked for or expected such a thing. Many women wouldn’t, even the ones who secretly or not-so-secretly pine to be treated like a princess. It’s one thing to fantasize about a perfect proposal or an expensive gift; that’s high-maintenance, sure, but it’s also par for the course. It’s asking something from a man, but primarily it’s asking him to step into an already-choreographed mating dance. But asking to be thought of, understood, prioritized: this is a request so deep it is almost unfathomable. It’s a voracious request, the demand of the attention whore. Women talk ourselves into needing less, because we’re not supposed to want more—or we know we won’t get more, and we don’t want to feel unsatisfied. We reduce our needs for food, for space, for respect, for help, for love and affection, for being noticed, according to what we think we’re allowed to have. Sometimes we tell ourselves that we can live without it, even that we don’t want it. But it’s not that we don’t want more. It’s that we don’t want to be seen asking for it. And when it comes to romance, women always, always need to ask.

Women are told that so much of his behavior is normal, par-for-the-course male ego, rage, sexuality. It's not. You're going to learn that very soon, and then you're going to be angry with yourself for not knowing. Don't be. Be angry at the world that told you to weather it, and told him that he was right.

The young activist who recycles Robert F. Kennedy’s line “There are those who look at things the way they are, and ask why . . . I dream of things that never were, and ask why not?” has no idea he’s a walking, talking cliché, a non-conformist in theory while a predictable conformist in fact. But he also has no idea he’s tapping into his inner utopian.... RFK didn’t coin the phrase (JFK didn’t either, but he did use it first). The line actually comes from one of the worst people of the 20th century, George Bernard Shaw (admittedly he’s on the B-list of worst people since he never killed anybody; he just celebrated people who did). That much a lot of people know. But the funny part is the line comes from Shaw’s play Back to Methuselah. Specifically, it’s what the Serpent says to Eve in order to sell her on eating the apple and gaining a kind of immortality through sex (or something like that). Of course, Shaw’s Serpent differs from the biblical serpent, because Shaw — a great rationalizer of evil — is naturally sympathetic to the serpent. Still, it’s kind of hilarious that legions of Kennedy worshippers invoke this line as a pithy summation of the idealistic impulse, putting it nearly on par with Kennedy’s nationalistic “Ask Not” riff, without realizing they’re stealing lines from . . . the Devil. ​I don’t think this means you can march into the local high school, kick open the door to the student government offices with a crucifix extended, shouting “the power of Christ compels you!” while splashing holy water on every kid who uses that “RFK” quote on his Facebook page. But it is interesting.

So far, so vindictive: par for the Old Testament course. New Testament theology adds a new injustice, topped off by a new sadomasochism whose viciousness even the Old Testament barely exceeds. It is, when you think about it, remarkable that a religion should adopt an instrument of torture and execution as its sacred symbol, often worn around the neck. Lenny

Mais je comprends aussi que rien de ce qui concerne l'homme ne se compte, ni ne se mesure. L'étendue véritable n'est point pour l'œil, elle n'est accordée qu'à l'esprit. Elle vaut ce que vaut le langage, car c'est le langage qui noue les choses. Il me semble désormais entrevoir mieux ce qu'est une civilisation. Une civilisation est un héritage de croyances, de coutumes et de connaissances, lentement acquises au cours des siècles, difficiles parfois à justifier par la logique, mais qui se justifient d'elles-mêmes, comme des chemins, s'ils conduisent quelque part, puisqu'elles ouvrent à l'homme son étendue intérieure. Une mauvaise littérature nous a parlé du besoin d'évasion. Bien sûr, on s'enfuit en voyage à la recherche de l'étendue. Mais l'étendue ne se trouve pas. Elle se fonde. Et l'évasion n'a jamais conduit nulle part. Quand l'homme a besoin, pour se sentir homme, de courir des courses, de chanter en chœur, ou de faire la guerre, ce sont déjà des liens qu'il s'impose afin de se nouer à autrui et au monde. Mais combien pauvres ! Si une civilisation est forte, elle comble l'homme, même si le voilà immobile.

O bonheur de l'imaginaire, du possible, du concevable ! Premier des droits humains : le fantasme ! N'être pas là où l'on est ; être là où l'on n'est pas. Oui, ça fonctionne dans les deux sens : pendant que son mari la ramone avec monotonie, l'épouse peut penser aux courses qu'il lui reste à faire ; en essuyant la vaisselle, par contre, libre à elle de partir au septième ciel avec l'amant de ses rêves.

The faculty of re-solution is possibly much invigorated by mathematical study, and especially by that highest branch of it which, unjustly, and merely on account of its retrograde operations, has been called, as if par excellence, analysis. Yet to calculate is not in itself to analyse. A chess-player, for example, does the one without effort at the other. It follows that the game of chess, in its effects upon mental character, is greatly misunderstood. I am not now writing a treatise, but simply prefacing a somewhat peculiar narrative by observations very much at random; I will, therefore, take occasion to assert that the higher powers of the reflective intellect are more decidedly and more usefully tasked by the unostentatious game of draughts than by a the elaborate frivolity of chess. In this latter, where the pieces have different and bizarre motions, with various and variable values, what is only complex is mistaken (a not unusual error) for what is profound. The attention is here called powerfully into play. If it flag for an instant, an oversight is committed resulting in injury or defeat. The possible moves being not only manifold but involute, the chances of such oversights are multiplied; and in nine cases out of ten it is the more concentrative rather than the more acute player who conquers. In draughts, on the contrary, where the moves are unique and have but little variation, the probabilities of inadvertence are diminished, and the mere attention being left comparatively unemployed, what advantages are obtained by either party are obtained by superior acumen. To be less abstract, let us suppose a game of draughts where the pieces are reduced to four kings, and where, of course, no oversight is to be expected. It is obvious that here the victory can be decided (the players being at all equal) only by some recherché movement, the result of some strong exertion of the intellect. Deprived of ordinary resources, the analyst throws himself into the spirit of his opponent, identifies himself therewith, and not unfrequently sees thus, at a glance, the sole methods (sometime indeed absurdly simple ones) by which he may seduce into error or hurry into miscalculation.

Je suis heureuse et fière de moi, même quand je fais les courses. Je sors si j’en ai envie, sinon je reste à la maison pour lire, regarder un film ou bien cuisiner pour moi ou mes amis. Parfois, je mange à table. D’autres fois, je m’assieds par terre, adossée au canapé. J’ouvre une bouteille de vin même quand je suis seule. Je n’ai pas besoin de négocier. Je suis indépendante. Je suis prête à me battre de toutes mes forces pour préserver cette situation. Pour toujours. Pourtant, moi aussi, j’aurais quelquefois besoin qu’on m’enlace. Besoin de baisser la garde et de me perdre dans les bras d’un homme. De me sentir protégée. Même si je me débrouille très bien toute seule, parfois, j’aimerais feindre le contraire juste pour le plaisir que quelqu’un s’occupe de moi. Seulement, je ne veux pas rester avec un homme pour ça. Je ne veux pas devoir accepter des compromis et je n’arrive pas à renoncer à tout ce que j’ai.

So how long do I have before—what were their names? Carl and Rosa? Yeah, that’s them. How long do I have before they come back?” “I don’t know. Maybe...maybe an hour or so?” My hands felt incredibly small in his. That lopsided grin was back. “I doubt they’d be happy to find me here.” “Why?” His brows rose. “Maybe I’m wrong. They used to coming home to find some strange guy sitting on their couch?” I rolled my eyes. “That’s it, isn’t it?” Rider tugged on my hands, and I rose, letting him pull me down to the couch beside him. He leaned back, sliding one arm around my shoulders and tucking me against his side. “Just par for the course with you, huh?” I didn’t know what to do with my hands since he’d let go of them, so I folded them in my lap. “I’ve never had a...guy here.” Rider stiffened and then he twisted his neck so he was looking at me. Did I seriously admit that out loud? Squeezing my eyes shut, I sighed. “I’m just...going to shut up now.” He chuckled. “Don’t do that. I like listening to you talk.

She was the first close friend who I felt like I’d re­ally cho­sen. We weren’t in each other’s lives be­cause of any obli­ga­tion to the past or con­ve­nience of the present. We had no shared his­tory and we had no rea­son to spend all our time to­ gether. But we did. Our friend­ship in­ten­si­fied as all our friends had chil­dren – she, like me, was un­con­vinced about hav­ing kids. And she, like me, found her­self in a re­la­tion­ship in her early thir­ties where they weren’t specif­i­cally work­ing to­wards start­ing a fam­ily. By the time I was thirty-four, Sarah was my only good friend who hadn’t had a baby. Ev­ery time there was an­other preg­nancy an­nounce­ment from a friend, I’d just text the words ‘And an­other one!’ and she’d know what I meant. She be­came the per­son I spent most of my free time with other than Andy, be­cause she was the only friend who had any free time. She could meet me for a drink with­out plan­ning it a month in ad­vance. Our friend­ship made me feel lib­er­ated as well as safe. I looked at her life choices with no sym­pa­thy or con­cern for her. If I could ad­mire her de­ci­sion to re­main child-free, I felt en­cour­aged to ad­mire my own. She made me feel nor­mal. As long as I had our friend­ship, I wasn’t alone and I had rea­son to be­lieve I was on the right track. We ar­ranged to meet for din­ner in Soho af­ter work on a Fri­day. The waiter took our drinks or­der and I asked for our usual – two Dirty Vodka Mar­ti­nis. ‘Er, not for me,’ she said. ‘A sparkling wa­ter, thank you.’ I was ready to make a joke about her un­char­ac­ter­is­tic ab­sti­nence, which she sensed, so as soon as the waiter left she said: ‘I’m preg­nant.’ I didn’t know what to say. I can’t imag­ine the ex­pres­sion on my face was par­tic­u­larly en­thu­si­as­tic, but I couldn’t help it – I was shocked and felt an un­war­ranted but in­tense sense of be­trayal. In a de­layed re­ac­tion, I stood up and went to her side of the ta­ble to hug her, un­able to find words of con­grat­u­la­tions. I asked what had made her change her mind and she spoke in va­garies about it ‘just be­ing the right time’ and wouldn’t elab­o­rate any fur­ther and give me an an­swer. And I needed an an­swer. I needed an an­swer more than any­thing that night. I needed to know whether she’d had a re­al­iza­tion that I hadn’t and, if so, I wanted to know how to get it. When I woke up the next day, I re­al­ized the feel­ing I was ex­pe­ri­enc­ing was not anger or jeal­ousy or bit­ter­ness – it was grief. I had no one left. They’d all gone. Of course, they hadn’t re­ally gone, they were still my friends and I still loved them. But huge parts of them had dis­ap­peared and there was noth­ing they could do to change that. Un­less I joined them in their spa­ces, on their sched­ules, with their fam­i­lies, I would barely see them. And I started dream­ing of an­other life, one com­pletely re­moved from all of it. No more chil­dren’s birth­day par­ties, no more chris­ten­ings, no more bar­be­cues in the sub­urbs. A life I hadn’t ever se­ri­ously con­tem­plated be­fore. I started dream­ing of what it would be like to start all over again. Be­cause as long as I was here in the only Lon­don I knew – mid­dle-class Lon­don, cor­po­rate Lon­don, mid-thir­ties Lon­don, mar­ried Lon­don – I was in their world. And I knew there was a whole other world out there.

Well," he asked, "whaddya expect?" It was so obviously a rhetorical question that of course I answered it. My truth impulse seemed stronger around this boy,my impulse control way under par. "I would expect you to be dancing." His expression was unreadable in the limited light. "Is that an invitation?" "No. An observation." He shrugged. "Okay. I needed a break. It was either keep an eye on Chase while he pukes up a fifth of cheap rum in the guys' bathroom or follow the girls into the ladies' room." I almost smiled and told him about Willing's bathrooms and me. Instead, some truly horrific and irresistible impulse had me announcing, "Amanda looks really pretty tonight." "So do you." Bizarrely, I felt my breath catch in my chest, and for a long, awful second, I thought I might cry. I gripped the top of my pad tightly, concentrated on the spiral metal binding where it dug into my skin. "It's a cool costume," he said. "Water nymph?" "Sea goddess," I answered quietly. "Roman." "Hmm." Alex was staring out toward the garden now,looking so at ease that I went from pretzel to knot. Could it really be that easy for him? To say things like he did without thinking? Without meaning them at all? "Too many mermaids tonight. Not that I have anything against mermaids.Mermaids are hot. I mean,you saw my drawing." I nodded. "You know," he went on, "that day in the hall,you compared my stuff to two Japanese artists-" I nodded again,even though he was looking out into the darkened gardens now and not at me. "Suzuki Harunobu and Utagawa Kuniyoshi. They were eighteenth and nineteeth-century woodblock print masters-" "Ella," he interrupted. "I know who they are." "Oh." "In fact, I have a couple original Kuniyoshi prints." "Oh.Wow.Wow.

I go into the toilet stall. I say stall; it’s posh, so the stall is its own little room. The toilet has a heated seat and speaks in a perky Japanese accent. It sprays warm water directly into my vulva after I’m done pissing, and I go, ‘Fucking hell!’ loudly, because I wasn’t expecting it. It also dries me off, with a little blast of hot air. And when I come back out of the bathroom, I’m aware I want to talk about the fucked-up talking toilet, but fucked-up talking toilets that spray water up your gooch without asking are probably just par for the fucking course here, aren’t they?

I pull into the driveway outside of my father's house and shut off the engine. I sit behind the wheel for a moment, studying the house. He'd called me last night and demanded that I come over for dinner tonight. Didn't request. He demanded. What struck me though, was that he sounded a lot more stressed out and harried than he did when he interrupted my brunch with Gabby to demand my presence at a “family”dinner. Yeah, that had been a fun night filled with my father and Ian badgering me about my job. For whatever reason, they'd felt compelled to make a concerted effort to belittle what I do –more so than they usually do anyway -- try to undermine my confidence in my ability to teach, and all but demand that I quit and come to work for my father's company. That had been annoying, and although they were more insistent than normal, it's pretty par for the course with those two. They always think they know what's best for me and have no qualms about telling me how to live my life. When he'd called me last night though, and told me to come to dinner tonight, there was something in my father's voice that had rattled me. It took me a while to put a finger on what it was I heard in his voice, but when I figured it out, it really shook me. I heard fear. Outright fear. My father isn't a man who fears much or is easily intimidated. In fact, he's usually the one doing the intimidating. But, something has him really spooked and even though we don't always see eye-to-eye or get along, hearing that fear in his voice scared me. In all my years, I've never known him to sound so downright terrified. With a sigh and a deep sense of foreboding, I climb out of my car and head to the door, trying to steel myself more with each step. Call me psychic, but I have a feeling that this is going to be a long, miserable night. “Good evening, Miss Holly,”Gloria says as she opens the door before I even have a chance to knock. “Nice to see you again.”“It's nice to see you too, Gloria,”I say and smile with genuine affection. Gloria has been with our family for as far back as I can remember. Honestly, after my mother passed away from ovarian cancer, Gloria took a large role in raising me. My father had plunged himself into his work –and had taken Ian under his wing to help groom him to take over the empire one day –leaving me to more or less fend for myself. It was like I was a secondary consideration to them. Because I'm a girl and not part of the testosterone-rich world of construction, neither my father nor Ian took much interest in me or my life. Unless they needed something from me, of course. The only time they really paid any attention to me was when they needed me to pose for family pictures for company literature.

Esther n'était certainement pas bien éduquée au sens habituel du terme, jamais l'idée ne lui serait venue de vider un cendrier ou de débarrasser le relief de ses repas, et c'est sans la moindre gêne qu'elle laissait la lumière allumée derrière elle dans les pièces qu'elle venait de quitter (il m'est arrivé, suivant pas à pas son parcours dans ma résidence de San Jose, d'avoir à actionner dix-sept commutateurs); il n'était pas davantage question de lui demander de penser à faire un achat, de ramener d'un magasin où elle se rendait une course non destinée à son propre usage, ou plus généralement de rendre un service quelconque. Comme toutes les très jolies jeunes filles elle n'était au fond bonne qu'à baiser, et il aurait été stupide de l'employer à autre chose, de la voir autrement que comme un animal de luxe, en tout choyé et gåté, protégé de tout souci comme de toute tâche ennuyeuse ou pénible afin de mieux pouvoir se consacrer à son service exclusivement sexuel. Elle n'en était pas moins très loin d'être ce monstre d'arrogance, d'égoïsme absolu et froid, au, pour parler en termes plus baudelairiens, cette infernale petite salope que sont la plupart des très jolies jeunes filles; il y avait en elle la conscience de la maladie, de la faiblesse et de la mort. Quoique belle, très belle, infiniment érotique et désirable, Esther n'en était pas moins sensible aux infirmités animales, parce qu'elle les connaissait ; c'est ce soir-là que j'en pris conscience, et que je me mis véritablement à l'aimer. Le désir physique, si violent soit-il, n'avait jamais suffi chez moi à conduire à l'amour, il n'avait pu atteindre ce stade ultime que lorsqu'il s'accompagnait, par une juxtaposition étrange, d'une compassion pour l'être désiré ; tout être vivant, évidemment, mérite la compassion du simple fait qu'il est en vie et se trouve par là-même exposé à des souffrances sans nombre, mais face à un être jeune et en pleine santé c'est une considération qui paraît bien théorique. Par sa maladie de reins, par sa faiblesse physique insoupçonnable mais réelle, Esther pouvait susciter en moi une compassion non feinte, chaque fois que l'envie me prendrait d'éprouver ce sentiment à son égard. Étant elle-même compatissante, ayant même des aspirations occasionnelles à la bonté, elle pouvait également susciter en moi l'estime, ce qui parachevait l'édifice, car je n'étais pas un être de passion, pas essentiellement, et si je pouvais désirer quelqu'un de parfaitement méprisable, s'il m'était arrivé à plusieurs reprises de baiser des filles dans l'unique but d'assurer mon emprise sur elles et au fond de les dominer, si j'étais même allé jusqu'à utiliser ce peu louable sentiment dans des sketches, jusqu'à manifester une compréhension troublante pour ces violeurs qui sacrifient leur victime immédiatement après avoir disposé de son corps, j'avais par contre toujours eu besoin d'estimer pour aimer, jamais au fond je ne m'étais senti parfaitement à l'aise dans une relation sexuelle basée sur la pure attirance érotique et l'indifférence à l'autre, j'avais toujours eu besoin, pour me sentir sexuellement heureux, d'un minimum - à défaut d'amour - de sympathie, d'estime, de compréhension mutuelle; l'humanité non, je n'y avais pas renoncé. (La possibilité d'une île, Daniel 1,15)

Accidental nuclear war between two superpowers may or may not happen in my lifetime, but if it does, it will obviously change everything. The climate change we're currently worrying about pales in comparison with nuclear winter, where a global dust cloud blocks sunlight for years, much like when an asteroid or supervolcano caused a mass extinction in the past. The 2008 economic turmoil was of course nothing compared to the resulting global crop failures, infrastructure collapse and mass starvation, with survivors succumbing to hungry armed gangs systematically pillaging from house to house. Do I expect to see this in my lifetime? I'd give it about 30%, putting it roughly on par with my getting cancer. Yet we devote way less attention and resources to reducing the risk of nuclear disaster than we do for cancer. And whereas humanity as a whole survives even if 30% get cancer, it's less obvious to what extent our civilization would survive a nuclear Armageddon. There are concrete and straightforward steps that can be taken to slash this risk, as spelled out in numerous reports by scientific organizations, but these never become major election issues and tend to get largely ignored.

When I came here, Porcupine was the first to treat me to ice water. To be treated by such a fellow, even if it is so trifling a thing as ice water, affects my honor. I had only one glass then and had him pay only one sen and a half. But one sen or half sen, I shall not die in peace if I accept a favor from a swindler. I will pay it back tomorrow when I go to the school. I borrowed three yen from Kiyo. That three yen is not paid yet to-day, though it is five years since. Not that I could not pay, but that I did not want to. Kiyo never looks to my pocket thinking I shall pay it back by-the-bye. Not by any means. I myself do not expect to fulfill cold obligation like a stranger by meditating on returning it. The more I worry about paying it back, the more I may be doubting the honest heart of Kiyo. It would be the same as traducing her pure mind. I have not paid her back that three yen not because I regard her lightly, but because I regard her as part of myself. Kiyo and Porcupine cannot be compared, of course, but whether it be ice water or tea, the fact that I accept another’s favor without saying anything is an act of good-will, taking the other on his par value, as a decent fellow. Instead of chipping in my share, and settling each account, to receive munificence with grateful mind is an acknowledgment which no amount of money can purchase

Mais les signes de ce qui m'attendait réellement, je les ai tous négligés. Je travaille mon diplôme sur le surréalisme à la bibliothèque de Rouen, je sors, je traverse le square Verdrel, il fait doux, les cygnes du bassin ont reparu, et d'un seul coup j'ai conscience que je suis en train de vivre peut-être mes dernières semaines de fille seule, libre d'aller où je veux, de ne pas manger ce midi, de travailler dans ma chambre sans être dérangée. Je vais perdre définitivement la solitude. Peut-on s'isoler facilement dans un petit meublé, à deux. Et il voudra manger ses deux repas par jour. Toutes sortes d'images me traversent. Une vie pas drôle finalement. Mais je refoule, j'ai honte, ce sont des idées de fille unique, égocentrique, soucieuse de sa petite personne, mal élevée au fond. Un jour, il a du travail, il est fatigué, si on mangeait dans la chambre au lieu d'aller au restau. Six heures du soir cours Victor-Hugo, des femmes se précipitent aux Docks, en face du Montaigne, prennent ci et ça sans hésitation, comme si elles avaient dans la tête toute la programmation du repas de ce soir, de demain peut-être, pour quatre personnes ou plus aux goûts différents. Comment font-elles ? [...] Je n'y arriverai jamais. Je n'en veux pas de cette vie rythmée par les achats, la cuisine. Pourquoi n'est-il pas venu avec moi au supermarché. J'ai fini par acheter des quiches lorraines, du fromage, des poires. Il était en train d'écouter de la musique. Il a tout déballé avec un plaisir de gamin. Les poires étaient blettes au coeur, "tu t'es fait entuber". Je le hais. Je ne me marierai pas. Le lendemain, nous sommes retournés au restau universitaire, j'ai oublié. Toutes les craintes, les pressentiments, je les ai étouffés. Sublimés. D'accord, quand on vivra ensemble, je n'aurai plus autant de liberté, de loisirs, il y aura des courses, de la cuisine, du ménage, un peu. Et alors, tu renâcles petit cheval tu n'es pas courageuse, des tas de filles réussissent à tout "concilier", sourire aux lèvres, n'en font pas un drame comme toi. Au contraire, elles existent vraiment. Je me persuade qu'en me mariant je serai libérée de ce moi qui tourne en rond, se pose des questions, un moi inutile. Que j'atteindrai l'équilibre. L'homme, l'épaule solide, anti-métaphysique, dissipateur d'idées tourmentantes, qu'elle se marie donc ça la calmera, tes boutons même disparaîtront, je ris forcément, obscurément j'y crois. Mariage, "accomplissement", je marche. Quelquefois je songe qu'il est égoïste et qu'il ne s'intéresse guère à ce que je fais, moi je lis ses livres de sociologie, jamais il n'ouvre les miens, Breton ou Aragon. Alors la sagesse des femmes vient à mon secours : "Tous les hommes sont égoïstes." Mais aussi les principes moraux : "Accepter l'autre dans son altérité", tous les langages peuvent se rejoindre quand on veut.

Mom,” Vaughn said. “I’m sure Sidney doesn’t want to be interrogated about her personal life.” Deep down, Sidney knew that Vaughn—who’d obviously deduced that she’d been burned in the past—was only trying to be polite. But that was the problem, she didn’t want him to be polite, as if she needed to be shielded from such questions. That wasn’t any better than the damn “Poor Sidney” head-tilt. “It’s okay, I don’t mind answering.” She turned to Kathleen. “I was seeing someone in New York, but that relationship ended shortly before I moved to Chicago.” “So now that you’re single again, what kind of man are you looking for? Vaughn?” Kathleen pointed. “Could you pass the creamer?” He did so, then turned to look once again at Sidney. His lips curved at the corners, the barest hint of a smile. He was daring her, she knew, waiting for her to back away from his mother’s questions. She never had been very good at resisting his dares. “Actually, I have a list of things I’m looking for.” Sidney took a sip of her coffee. Vaughn raised an eyebrow. “You have a list?” “Yep.” “Of course you do.” Isabelle looked over, surprised. “You never told me about this.” “What kind of list?” Kathleen asked interestedly. “It’s a test, really,” Sidney said. “A list of characteristics that indicate whether a man is ready for a serious relationship. It helps weed out the commitment-phobic guys, the womanizers, and any other bad apples, so a woman can focus on the candidates with more long-term potential.” Vaughn rolled his eyes. “And now I’ve heard it all.” “Where did you find this list?” Simon asked. “Is this something all women know about?” “Why? Worried you won’t pass muster?” Isabelle winked at him. “I did some research,” Sidney said. “Pulled it together after reading several articles online.” “Lists, tests, research, online dating, speed dating—I can’t keep up with all these things you kids are doing,” Adam said, from the head of the table. “Whatever happened to the days when you’d see a girl at a restaurant or a coffee shop and just walk over and say hello?” Vaughn turned to Sidney, his smile devilish. “Yes, whatever happened to those days, Sidney?” She threw him a look. Don’t be cute. “You know what they say—it’s a jungle out there. Nowadays a woman has to make quick decisions about whether a man is up to par.” She shook her head mock reluctantly. “Sadly, some guys just won’t make the cut.” “But all it takes is one,” Isabelle said, with a loving smile at her fiancé. Simon slid his hand across the table, covering hers affectionately. “The right one.” Until he nails his personal trainer. Sidney took another sip of her coffee, holding back the cynical comment. She didn’t want to spoil Isabelle and Simon’s idyllic all-you-need-is-love glow. Vaughn cocked his head, looking at the happy couple. “Aw, aren’t you two just so . . . cheesy.” Kathleen shushed him. “Don’t tease your brother.” “What? Any moment, I’m expecting birds and little woodland animals to come in here and start singing songs about true love, they’re so adorable.” Sidney laughed out loud. Quickly, she bit her lip to cover.

When you buy from an independent, locally owned business, as opposed to nationally owned businesses, you strengthen the economic base of our city. And of course there’s no doubt that you’ll receive a better quality product or service. I share John Roeser’s amazement that people today tend to prefer saving a dollar or too two on a birthday cake, for example, by purchasing a sub-par cake made with artificial, cheap ingredients from a mass retailer, when Roeser’s Bakery offers some of the most delectable, housemade cakes in the world. How could anyone step into a fast food joint when we live in a city that has Lem’s barbecque rib tips, Kurowski’s kielbasa, Manny’s matzo ball soup, and Lindy’s chili within reach? You can’t even compare the products and services of the businesses featured in this book with those of mass retailers, either: Jjust try putting an Optimo hat on your head—you’ll ooze with elegance. Burn a beeswax lambathe from Athenian Candle and watch it glow longer than any candle you’ve ever lit. Bite into an Andersonville coffeecake from the Swedish Bakery—and you’ll have a hard time returning to the artificial ingredient– laden cakes found at most grocers. Equally important, local, family- owned businesses keep our city unique. In our increasingly homogenized and globalized world, cities that hold on tightly to their family-owned, distinctive businesses are more likely to attract visitors, entrepreneurs, and new investment. Chicago just wouldn’t be Chicago without these historic, one-of-a-kind places, and the people that run them from behind the scenes with nothing but love, hard work, and pride.

This book complicates the idea that trolls, and trolls alone, are why we can’t have nice things online. Instead, it argues that trolls are born of and embedded within dominant institutions and tropes, which are every bit as damaging as the trolls’ most disruptive behaviors. Ultimately, then, this is why we can’t have nice things, and is the point to which the title gestures: the fact that online trolling is par for the mainstream cultural course.

The issue is that, while trolls’ exploitative behaviors are condemned as aberrational, journalists’ similarly exploitative behaviors are accepted as being par for the capitalist course.

SpaceX, by the way, is not alone here. Being late is par for the course in the aerospace industry. It’s not a question of if it’s late, it’s how late will the program be. I don’t think an aerospace program has been completed on time since bloody World War II.

Equally far-reaching for theology was the Enlightenment's distinction between fact and value. The tolerant Enlightenment paradigm magnanimously allowed individuals to select whatever values they preferred from a wide range of options, all of which were on a par. Newbigin summarizes: In the physics classroom the student learns what the “facts” are and is expected in the end to believe the truth of what he has learned. In the religious education classroom he is invited to choose what he likes best (1986:39). The logical outcome of this course was, naturally, that Christianity was reduced to one province of the wide empire of religion. Different religions merely represented different values; each was part of a great mosaic. Two different “truths” or “facts,” two different views of the same “reality,” cannot coexist; two different values, however, can. Interestingly enough, there was some room left for religion in this edifice, but then only for tolerant religion, especially religion which had been advised by “a little philosophy” (Bertrand Russell, quoted in Polanyi 1958:271) through which one's values could, if necessary, be adjusted from time to time. Above all, the role of religion was to oppose any form of sectarianism, superstition, and fanaticism and to cultivate moral fiber in its adherents, thereby reinforcing human reason. Religion should, however, under no circumstances challenge the dominant worldview. Religion could exist alongside science, but without the first ever impinging on the latter.

L'homo technicus-economicus croit aussi, à sa manière, se suffire à lui-même. Arrogant, démiurge, autosatisfait, il se frotte les mains, dispose de tout ce qu'offre la planète, s'arroge tous les droits, ignore ses devoirs, coupe les liens qui le relient aux autres humains, à la nature, à l'histoire et au cosmos. Il pousse si loin l'émancipation qu'il court le risque de déchirer tous les fils et de décrocher, de se décrocher, de s'auto-expulser de la création. Son idéologie est si simpliste que n'importe quel fondamentalisme religieux apparaît en comparaison subtil et pluriel. Un seul précepte, une seule loi, un seul paramètre, un seul étalon : le rendement ! Qui dit mieux dans la trivialité criminelle d'un ordre unique ? Comment ne pas voir que chaque subside retiré à la culture et à l'éducation devra être multiplié par cent pour renflouer les services médicaux, l'aide sociale et la sécurité policière ? Car sans connaissances, sans vision et sans fertilité imaginaire, toute société sombre tôt ou tard dans le non-sens et l'agression. Il existe à ce jeu macabre un puissant contre-poison. A portée de la main, à tout instant : c'est la gratitude. Elle seule suspend notre course avide. Elle seule donne accès à une abondance sans rivage. Elle révèle que tout est don et qui plus est : don immérité. Non parce que nous en serions, selon une optique moralisante, indignes, mais parce que notre mérite ne sera jamais assez grand pour contrebalancer la générosité de la vie ! (p. 13-14)

The Heideggerian idea of the withdrawal of the gods is an effort to deny the primacy of the biblical God, which still lies behind the Nietzschean formula. Heidegger’s formula means that religion is withdrawing everywhere and not merely the Christian God. This is true, but why is it happening? Because the old pagan sacrificial order is disappearing thanks to Christianity! It is ironic: Christianity seems to be dying together with the religions it extinguishes, because, in sacrificial terms, it is perceived as one mythical religion among others. Christianity is not only one of the destroyed religions but it is the destroyer of all religions. The death of God is a Christian phenomenon. In its modern sense, atheism is a Christian invention. There is no atheism in the ancient world. The only exception I can think of is Epicureanism, but it is limited and its denial of the gods is not aggressive. Epicureanism does not deny God against anything or anyone: it doesn’t have that strong negative quality of modern atheism. The disappearance of religion is a Christian phenomenon par excellence. Of course, and let me clarify that I am referring to the disappearance of religion in so far as we see religion aligned with a sacrificial order. This process is going to continue and it is spreading all around the globe. I was talking with a specialist of Sanskrit, and he agreed with me that this process is probably also present in Indian history. It is much slower, but it is accelerating. The withdrawal of all gods is the first transreligious phenomenon. Like fundamentalism, it is a transreligious phenomenon which is taking place before our eyes, and we just do not seem to realize that it is the Bible which is responsible.

Once, while playing in a tournament at the Monterey Peninsula Club, I hit a shot off the tee, a par five. It looked like a very good shot, but, unfortunately, the ball landed next to a waste area. When I went to hit my second shot, I missed the ball. Whiffed completely. Embarrassingly. The whiff counted as a shot, of course. My third shot was not much better, leaving me a good 200 yards from the green. I hit my fourth shot and finally made it onto the green. As I walked onto the green, I couldn't find my ball... had it rolled off? Had I sent it longer than I thought, into the sand on the far side? I looked and looked and looked. The ball was in the hole. I'd made a birdie four on a par five, after one of my shots was whiffed and another was almost as terrible. A surprise, I think, is really just an inevitability that we're too unsophisticated to predict.

In 2007 Biden went par for the course and stuck his foot in his mouth, saying that Barack Obama was “the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy.

Les secrets du bonheur sont souvent la ou on ne les voit pas: a notre portee. Le vrai luxe se cache au coeur d'un equilibre delicat entre une vie simple et frugale et une vie aussi gaie et legere que des bulles de champagne. Le juste milieu, c'est l'equilibre atteint entre satisfaire ses envies - etre en vie - et ne pas ceder aux exces. Notre attirance envers certaines marques. Lorsque nous nous sommes emotionnellement connectes a une marque, celle-ci devient pour nous unique. Le choix de nos objets, de nos meubles, de nos possessions en general est tres important pour notre equilibre et notre bonheur: ce que nous possedons doit refleter exactement ce que nous sommes et representer les valeurs que nous portons en nous. La beaute est la promesse du bonheur. Stendhal Avoir une bonne image de soi-meme rend la vie infiniment plus simple. Si vous vous aimez, cela se refletera sur votre physionomie. Celles qui sont depourvues d'identite tentent souvent, par le biais de la mode, d'en acquerir une. Celles, au contraire, qui savent qu'elles ont un charme naturel, parlent, marchent avec une certaine aisance. Vivre dans le luxe, c'est surtout vivre libre de tout souci et de toute angoisse pour le futur, etre capable d'apprecier chaque moment de l'existence et avoir assez de sagesse, de connaisance et bon sens pour vivre en paix avec soi. L'education de nos sens et de nos emotions est plus importante que celle de nos idees. Bien vivre, ce n'est pas vivre dans l'abondance materielle mais developper sa creativite, cultiver sa capacite a porter attention a ce qui nous entoure. Vivre avec attention repose sur la sante mentale et la sante mentale repose sur le fait de preter attention. Pour apprecier quelque chose, il faut pouvoir en prendre conscience. Et c'est en cela que la culture et les voyages aident a vivre mieux et plus luxueusement. La pauvrete, c'est le maximum d'effort pour le minimum de resultat. La richesse, c'est le minimum d'effort pour le maximum de resultat. Abraham Lincoln Parvenir a vivre a son propre rythme est le luxe de ceux qui savent veritablement jouir de l'existence. Aimer vivre et decouvrir est un luxe. Lorsque nous sommes en vacances, nous nous autorisons a etre heureux. Il y a dix ans, le luxe c'etait de posseder un portable; aujourd'hui, c'est de pouvoir l'eteindre. Ce n'est qu'en se fondant a la beaute de la nature qu'on peut retrouver la capacite de s'emerveiller devant la vie. Seule la nature peut aider notre mental a ralentir sa course folle et redonner de la vie a nos sens. regarder, observer, sentir, humer - la nature a le pouvoir magique de calmer l'esprit. Mange sans parler. Pas besoin de mots, la vie se vit sans qu'on ait besoin de la dire. La dire, c'est souvent ne pas la vivre. La dire abondamment, c'est souvent la vivre petitement.

French provides a very striking case of multiple meta-analysis. Our word unicorn derives from Latin, in which it is composed of uni- ‘one’ and cornu ‘horn’. In English, nothing much has happened to this word, except that most speakers, knowing nothing of Latin, probably don’t assign any internal structure to it: they just regard it as a single morpheme, on a par with horse or giraffe. Most European languages have the identical word, but the French word is the curious licorne. Where did this come from? The original word, of course, was unicorne, a grammatically feminine noun. But the French word for ‘a’ with a feminine noun is une – and hence unicorne was misinterpreted as une icorne, and icorne therefore became the French name of the beast. But the French word for ‘the’ before a noun beginning with a vowel is l’. Hence ‘the unicorne’ was expressed as l’icorne – and this form in turn was reanalysed as a single noun licorne, producing the modern form.

Tube Mastery And Monetization course help you kick start your YouTube channel from scratch and earn a handsome income out of it What is YouTube Monetization Course? Youtube Mastery and Monetization For Begginers teaches how to start, grow, and monetize a hyper-profitable YouTube channel from complete scratch. It doesn't matter if you don't have any tech skills or any previous business experience , as long as you have a heart to learn YouTube monetizes videos via pre-roll, display, and other advertising formats. Advertisers pay based on clicks and impressions. YouTube gives the content creator 55% of this revenue and takes 45% for itself. Content creators must adhere to advertising guidelines. Matt Par, a successful 20-year-old You Tuber, has been creating engaging content since 2014 and has received multiple silver play buttons along with a gold play button. Matt runs 9 successful YouTube channels, all with diverse content. To start earning money directly from YouTube, creators must have at least 1,000 subscribers and 4,000 watch hours in the past year. Once they reach that threshold, they can apply for YouTube's Partner Program, which allows creators to start monetizing their channels through ads, subscriptions, and channel memberships.For more detail message me

Arrivé à l'âge de la retraite, Jean Albert Durail a décidé de prendre du recul et de voir du pays, bien loin des rails tout tracés de cette société rongée par le pouvoir et l'argent. C'est en se rendant au mariage de sa petite fille, qui se déroulait au Togo, sur les hauteurs de Kpalimé, que son futur petit gendre (Moussa), l'a emmené à la frontière du Ghana où se trouve un curieux panneau indiquant « République Indépendante et Autonome de Montaubout». Monsieur Durail étant resté littéralement bouche bée devant ce bout de tôle, son futur petit gendre en a profité pour partir faire une course en lui promettant de lui envoyer un taxi. (pp. 64-65)

Famille Fondaine, 6, rue Rollin J'en suis encore à me demander S'ils avaient un chat paresseux sur le sofa Des géraniums aux fenêtres S'ils habitaient sous les combles et quelle Vue ils avaient (vers Pigalle ? vers Sacré-Cœur ?) J'en suis encore à me demander S'il y avait assez de lumière dans son bureau S'ils faisaient l'amour après le départ des amis S’ils dansaient la java à Montmartre S’ils prenaient le calva « Au lapin à Gilles » Si lui il mangeait du kascher Si elle faisait les courses Au quartier du Temple Par ailleurs je n'ai cessé de me demander Si elle gardait l'icône de la Vierge Au-dessus du lit conjugal S'il l’adorait si elle était seulement sa Samaritaine si la Fontaine a existé S'ils ont vraiment existé s’ils n’ont pas Existé et alors Qui a arrosé les géraniums Qui a caressé le chat… (p. 45)

Peut-être que lorsqu’on accepte son cercle, on accueille également la certitude qui nous permet de bâtir l’avenir, ce qu’on appelle la prospérité. Le cercle est différent d’un système linéaire de temps dans lequel la vie est une course du point A, la naissance, au point B, la mort. Entre les deux, les études, la carrière, le couple, la maison, la famille, la retraite. Dans cet ordre. Combien de fois par jour dois-je me faire ce rappel ? La vie n’est pas une course.

We often describe women who write about pain or vulnerabilities as 'brave,' but this type of confession is so frequently exchanged, so par for the course, so deeply and comfortably ensconced in the language of female confidences, so nearly de rigueur in the kind of personal writing ascendant now, so deeply woven in the way women get along with each other in the world generally that bravery may not be quite the right word. It is, in a way, something more like capitulating.

La vraie noblesse de l'homme vient de la vertu, et non de la naissance. -- Je vaux mieux que toi, mon père était consul, je suis tribun, et toi tu n'es rien. -- Mon cher, si nous étions deux chevaux, et que tu me dises : « Mon père était le plus vif de tous les chevaux de son temps, et moi j'ai beaucoup de foin, beaucoup d'orge, et un magnifique harnais, » je te dirais : « Je le veux bien, mais courons... » N'y a-t-il pas dans l'homme quelque chose qui lui est propre, comme la course au cheval, et par le moyen de quoi on peut connaître sa qualité et juger de son prix ? Et n'est-ce pas la pudeur, la fidélité, la justice ? Montre-moi donc l'avantage que tu as en cela sur moi. Fais-moi voir que tu vaux mieux que moi, en tant qu'homme. Si tu me dis : « Je puis nuire, je puis ruer, » je te répondrai que tu te glorifies là d'une qualité qui est propre à l'âne et au cheval, et non à l'homme.

A Buchenwald, lors de la corvée de merde consistant à porter deux par deux, au pas de course, sous les coups de matraque, de lourds bacs de bois suspendus à des perches, et remplis à ras bord d'engrais naturels destinés aux cultures maraîchères des SS, les kapos s'arrangeaient toujours pour apparier les détenus les plus dissemblables : un petit gros et un grand maigre, par exemple, un balèze et un avorton afin de provoquer, outre la difficulté objective du portage lui-même dans de semblables conditions, une animosité quasiment inévitable entre des êtres aux capacités physiques de résistance bien différentes." Autoportrait en lecteur (page 32)

Okay. I'll give you a peek inside my mind, but only because you are pushy and I know you aren't going to give up until I do." I huff out a breath. "I push because I love you." "I know. So, you want to know if my singleness in the midst of all this marital bliss bugs me." ... "Yeah. To be honest, my singleness has bugged me a little lately. It never did. I always really felt confident choosing not to get involved with anyone. But, lately, with each of you dropping like flies, I feel more alone sometimes. I'm not alone. I know that. And I'm still committed to my decision, but I'm working through some things." "Like not having a roommate." ... "Yeah." I admit. "Of course the lack of roommate situation matters to me. I mean, you and I had our little life together and I loved it. Don't get me wrong. I want you and Duke to get married and build an amazing future together. Don't ever think I don't. But it's a loss for me. And I'm free-falling for a minute. I'll find my bearings. Please don't worry about me." "I know you will. I just don't want you to commit to being single without leaving room for love if it surprises you from out of nowhere." I take a deep breath. May as well lay everything on the line. "I have given this a whole lot of thought lately. I just don't think my heart is made for one more break. I know I only had one serious boyfriend. So, my stance is a little ridiculous considering my lack of experience. And I'm not even sure I loved Shane. I probably didn't. But, when he cheated on me, it impacted me more deeply than I expected. Over time I realized I'd rather stick with friends. I don't think I'm the type of woman suited for relationships with men. Besides, I love my life. It's not like I need a man. Marriage isn't glamorous. It's actually hard. Worse than it being hard? It can end up an endless stream of monotony. I don't want to sign up for that." ... "Sorry." "Don't be sorry. Marriage is hard. And not every marriage is build on a solid foundation. But, with the right person, it's also beautiful, strong, and wonderful. Even with the right person, a relationship will have highs and lows. I'm not delusional. Duke and I will face hardship. It's sort of par for the course in life, right? But, I'd rather go through hard times with him than have all my days without him. That's what happens when you find the one you're meant to be with.

D'autre part, le Marocain et sa femme ont reçu le genre de visite dont nous nous croyions dispensés à Frillesas. En arrivant à la boutique, le matin, ils ont trouvé toutes les fenêtres brisées. Quelqu'un avait écrit : "Rentrez chez vous, métèques" sur la porte. Ils vivent ici depuis des années sans que cela n'ait jamais dérangé personne. Au contraire, nous sommes bien contents de pouvoir faire les courses à n'importe quelle heure. Du jour au lendemain, quelqu'un a découvert la couleur de leurs cheveux. Si je l'avais en face de moi, je proposerais à l'énergumène de teindre les siens, puisqu’il semble gêné par le contraste.

Shame is an emotion that many rape survivors struggle with for reasons that can be more complicated than we might think. It is a distinctly insidious form of humiliation, the result of a serious injury to our self-esteem, which can be exacerbated by the feeling that we’ve done something wrong. Humiliation is par for the course when your body is used sexually against your will—that part of the aftermath of sexual violence is pretty well understood. Less well appreciated is why rape survivors may end up feeling responsible for what has happened to them. A common assumption is that women blame themselves because of low self-esteem: if only I had dressed differently, if only I had not looked at him that way, if only I had made better decisions for myself. While a woman’s self-image may play a role in how she comes to understand what has happened to her, the sense of responsibility held by many rape survivors is at least partly driven by a dominant worldview regarding personal safety and harm. Although this picture is slowly changing, historically, at least in the West, girls have been taught from a young age that the world is basically a safe place and that so long as you are sufficiently careful and intelligent, you can protect yourself from any serious harm. Underscoring this narrative is the fact that in our entertainment-saturated media culture, the everydayness of sexual violence against women is overlooked in favour of sensationalized stories of extreme violence. And because rape is typically experienced in private, unlike other traumatic experiences, like combat fighting in war, for instance, the clear evidence of its pervasiveness is obscured from our collective vision. This further reinforces the mistaken notion that the world is a benign place for women—and worse, it makes incidents of sexual violence against women look like a series of unrelated, isolated events when in fact they are the systematic consequence of patriarchal social structures. So how does the rape survivor reconcile this dominant worldview with what has happened to her? After all, it cannot be true both that the world is a safe place and that you were raped, unless, of course, the rape was your fault. The other alternative is to reject the dominant worldview, but this means accepting the fact that we live in a world where women, by virtue of being women, are at risk. For a variety of reasons, it can be easier and less painful to believe instead that being raped was a result of your own poor choices.

And the lack of acknowledgement by those committing the microaggressions was par for the course.

The reality, then, is that parents experience deep limitations as they try to navigate their children's schooling; [...] Nagging, screaming, sometimes beatings, resistance, tears - these seem par for the course in parent-child interactions as parents try to help with homework.

Ici même, je sais que jamais je ne m'approcherai assez du monde. Il me faut être nu et puis plonger dans la mer, encore tout parfumé des essences de la terre, laver celles-ci dans celle-là, et nouer sur ma peau l'étreinte pour laquelle soupirent lèvres à lèvres depuis si longtemps la terre et la mer. Entré dans l'eau, c'est le saisissement, la montée d'une glu froide et opaque, puis le plongeon dans le bourdonnement des oreilles, le nez coulant et la bouche amère - la nage, les bras vernis d'eau sortis de la mer pour se dorer dans le soleil et rabattus dans une torsion de tous les muscles; la course de l'eau sur mon corps, cette possession tumultueuse de l'onde par mes jambes - et l'absence d'horizon. Sur le rivage, c'est la chute dans le sable, abandonné au monde, rentré dans ma pesanteur de chair et d'os, abruti de soleil, avec, de loin en loin, un regard pour mes bras où les flaques de peau sèche découvrent, avec le glissement de l'eau, le duvet blond et la poussière de sel.

RÉPONSES INTERROGATIVES À UNE QUESTION DE MARTIN HEIDEGGER La poésie ne rythmera plus l'action. Elle sera en avant. RIMBAUD. Divers sens étroits pourraient être proposés, compte non tenu du sens qui se crée dans le mouvement même de toute poésie objective, toujours en chemin vers le point qui signe sa justification et clôt son existence, à l'écart, en avant de l'existence du mot Dieu : -La poésie entraînera à vue l'action, se plaçant en avant d'elle. L'en-avant suppose toutefois un alignement d'angle de la poésie sur l'action, comme un véhicule pilote aspire à courte distance par sa vitesse un second véhicule qui le suit. Il lui ouvre la voie, contient sa dispersion, le nourrit de sa lancée. -La poésie, sur-cerveau de l’action, telle la pensée qui commande au corps de l'univers, comme l'imagination visionnaire fournit l'image de ce qui sera à l'esprit forgeur qui la sollicite. De là, l'enavant. -La poésie sera « un chant de départ ». Poésie et action, vases obstinément communicants. La poésie, pointe de flèche supposant l'arc action, l'objet sujet étroitement dépendant, la flèche étant projetée au loin et ne retombant pas car l'arc qui la suit la ressaisira avant chute, les deux égaux bien qu'inégaux, dans un double et unique mouvement de rejonction. -L'action accompagnera la poésie par une admirable fatalité, la réfraction de la seconde dans le miroir brûlant et brouillé de la première produisant une contradiction et communiquant le signe plus (+) à la matière abrupte de l’action. -La poésie, du fait de la parole même, est toujours mise par la pensée en avant de l'agir dont elle emmène le contenu imparfait en une course perpétuelle vie-mort-vie. -L'action est aveugle, c'est la poésie qui voit. L'une est unie par un lien mère-fils à 1'autre, le fils en avant de la mère et la guidant par nécessité plus que par amour. -La libre détermination de la poésie semble lui conférer sa qualité conductrice. Elle serait un être action, en avant de Faction. -La poésie est la loi, l'action demeure le phénomène. L'éclair précède le tonnerre, illuminant de haut en bas son théâtre, lui donnant valeur instantanée. -La poésie est le mouvement pur ordonnant le mouvement général. Elle enseigne le pays en se décalant. -La poésie ne rythme plus l'action, elle se porte en avant pour lui indiquer le chemin mobile. C'est pourquoi la poésie touche la première. Elle songe l'action et, grâce à son matériau, construit la Maison, mais jamais une fois pour toutes. _ La poésie est le moi en avant de l'en soi, « le poète étant chargé de l'Humanité » (Rimbaud). - La poésie serait de « la pensée chantée ». Elle serait l'œuvre en avant de Faction, serait sa conséquence finale et détachée. -La poésie est une tête chercheuse. L'action est son corps. Accomplissant une révolution ils font, au terme de celle-ci, coïncider la fin et le commencement. Ainsi de suite selon le cercle. -Dans l'optique de Rimbaud et de la Commune, la poésie ne servira plus la bourgeoisie, ne la rythmera plus. Elle sera en avant, la bourgeoisie ici supposée action de conquête. La poésie sera alors sa propre maîtresse, étant maîtresse de sa révolution; le signal du départ donné, l'action en-vue-de se transformant sans cesse en action voyant.

Il était passé la voir le lendemain et avait bu une bière sans même s'asseoir, pire que froid, un étranger. Jenn avait compris. Elle était de toute façon de ces femmes qui doivent toujours comprendre, les colères et les lâchetés, se trimballer les gosses et torcher les vieux, être toujours moins bien payée et dire amen. De mère en mère, c'était comme ça. - Mais toi, t'as envie de quoi ? avait tout de même demandé Greg. - Je sais pas. Ce qui signifiait à l'évidence qu'elle envisageait moyennement de se débarrasser de l'avenir qui lui poussait dans le ventre. Le père de Bilal s'était cassé depuis longtemps et elle en avait bavé pour refaire sa vie, entre ses journées à rallonge et son gosse qui n'était pas si facile. Elle avait tenu bon, farouche et souriante, sans jamais renoncer toutefois à la possibilité d'une vie à deux, la seule envisageable à ses yeux. Dans ce domaine, elle n'avait pas tellement de prétentions d'ailleurs, et sur l'amour, plus guère d'illusions. Il n'était plus question pour elle de coup de foudre ni de passion pied au plancher, le cœur à cent à l'heure et les mains moites. Là-dessus, Hollywood et la collection Harlequin pouvaient aller se faire mettre. À trente-deux ans, Jennifer ne se racontait plus d'histoire. Elle avait eu dans sa vie des gentils garçons et des intérimaires fumeurs de pet', des allumés de la console, des brutaux ou des zombies comme le père de Bilal qui pouvait passer des heures devant la télé sans dire un mot. Elle avait eu des mecs qui la baisaient vite et mal à deux heures du mat sur le parking d'un quelconque Papagayo. Elle avait été amoureuse et trompée. Elle avait trompé et s'en était voulu. Elle avait passé des heures à chialer comme une conne dans son oreiller pour des menteurs ou des jaloux. Elle avait eu quinze ans, et comme n'importe qui, sa dose de lettes et de flirts hésitants. On lui avait tenu la main, on l'avait emmenée au ciné. On lui avait dit je t'aime, je veux ton cul, par texto et à mi-voix dans l'intimité d'une chambre à coucher. À présent, Jenn était grande. Elle savait à quoi s'en tenir. L'amour n'était pas cette symphonie qu'on vous serinait partout, publicitaire et enchantée. L'amour c'étaient des listes de courses sur le frigo, une pantoufle sous un lit, un rasoir rose et l'autre bleu dans la salle de bains. Des cartables ouverts et des jouets qui trainent, une belle-mère qu'on emmène chez le pédicure pendant que l'autre va porter de vieux meubles à la déchetterie, et tard le soir, dans le noir, deux voix qui se réchauffent, on les entend à peine, qui disent des choses simples et sans relief, il n'y a plus de pain pour le petit-déjeuner, tu sais j'ai peur quand t'es pas là. Mais justement, je suis là. Jenn n'aurait pas su le dire avec des mots, mais tout cela, elle le savait de source sûre.

Just so you know, I hated Connor with the burning heat of a thousand suns when we met. Rocky beginnings are par for the course for every great romance.

Garlic[43] : This amazing aromatic plant, the most powerful antioxidant known, has been used to treat and cure illnesses through the ages. Even Hippocrates recommended consuming large amounts of crushed garlic as a remedy. A study in China finds that consuming raw garlic regularly cuts the risk of lung cancer in half, and previous studies have suggested that it may also ward off other malignant tumors, such as colon cancer. It is best to let it sit for at least fifteen minutes after the pods have been crushed. This time is needed to release an enzyme (allicin) that produces antifungal and anti-cancer compounds. Alliates (garlic, onion, chives) and their cousins (leek, shallot) improve liver detoxification and therefore help protect our genes from mutations. I take it in three forms: tablet, powder and fresh. I use it in almost all my dishes and sauces, it is the anti-cancer food par excellence. Vegetables[44] : To avoid disease, nothing like a diet rich in raw and organic vegetables. The daily intake of vegetables would prevent cancers of the mouth, pharynx, esophagus, lung, stomach, breast, colon and rectum. I eat it abundantly; you could even say that it has become my staple food. I eat of course all the cabbage, garlic, onion, pepper but also asparagus, mushrooms, leek, cucumber, scallions (green onions), zucchini, celery, all salads, spinach, endives, pickles, radishes, green beans, parsley and aromatic herbs. At first, I ate cooked tomatoes but stopped because they contain too much sugar. Omega 3 :   Omega 3, in cancer, are anti-inflammatory. Omega 6 or linoleic acids (found in sunflower and peanut oils) are inflammatory. You must always have an omega 3 / omega 6 ratio favorable to omega 3. This is why I take capsules of this fatty acid in addition to eating sardines and anchovies[45]. An inflammatory environment is conducive to the formation and proliferation of cancer cells. To restore the balance, it is necessary to consume more foods rich in omega 3 such as fatty fish, rather small ones because of mercury pollution (sardines, anchovies, mackerel, herring), organic eggs or eggs from hens fed with flax, chia seeds and flax seeds, avocados, almonds, olive oil. These good fatty acids help in the prevention of several cancers including breast, prostate, mouth and skin.

Les charmes enfouis Un azur n’est né que pour fuir les sommets inhumés à jamais Rempli de mes désirs désorientés et de tes sentiers malmenés Les silences remplacent les mots, là où il faut faire face au vrai Une métamorphose raconte les frontières d’un détour plus que raté C’est reparti pour une plongée de mon âme dans les eaux de ton éternité Le chemin de ta sortie n’est pas toujours celui de comment j’ai pu te rattraper Tu l’oublies mais tu t’en souviens après une longue course périmée Un taré orageusement cerné par un temps évoqué dans ta profonde gelée Serait-il possible de créer une variation de caractères sans but sacré ? Mon corps se met à imiter les voix de ton réveil rêveur en instantané…

the installation of Congress ministries in six large provinces of British India was a major milestone in the constitutional history of the subcontinent. Much more power had devolved on to the shoulder of Indians than at any previous time in the history of the Raj. Indeed, since precolonial regimes were themselves devoid of democratic representation, and were run by unelected kings who nominated their ministers, this was the furthest that Indians had thus far got in the direction of self-rule, swaraj. Surely it was now only a matter of years before the Congress, and India, achieved the next step, of Dominion Status, thus to place themselves on par with Canada, Australiaand South Africa. A sign of how much of a departure from colonial practice these elections were is underlined in a humble office order issued by the Central Provinces government after their own Congress ministry was installed. It was signed by an Indian ICS officer, C.M. Trivedi, then serving as the secretary to the general administration department. The order was sent to all commissioners and deputy commissioners, the chief conservator of forests, the inspector general of police, all secretaries to government, and a host of other senior officials (including the military secretary and the governor), almost all of whom were, of course, British. The text of the order was short and simple, albeit, in the eyes of its recipients, not altogether sweet. It read: ‘In future Mr. Gandhi should be referred to in all correspondence as “Mahatma Gandhi”.

Je tentai une première approche par l’entremise de la course à pied. Sloane courait presque tous les jours, mais sans horaires réguliers. Je passais des heures à errer dans le parc Bertrand, désespérant de la croiser.

The tidy world of shops and malls is the quintessential middle-class environment, but at either the top or the bottom of the system, the world of financiers or of gangsters, deals are often made in ways not so completely different from ways that the Gunwinggu or Nambikwara make them—at least in that sex, drugs, music, extravagant displays of food, and the potential for violence do often play parts. Consider the case of Neil Bush (George W.’s brother), who, during divorce proceedings with his wife, admitted to multiple infidelities with women who, he claimed, would mysteriously appear at his hotel-room door after important business meetings in Thailand and Hong Kong. “You have to admit it’s pretty remarkable,” remarked one of his wife’s attorneys, “for a man to go to a hotel-room door and open it and have a woman standing there and have sex with her.” “It was very unusual,” Bush replied, admitting however that this had happened to him on numerous occasions. “Were they prostitutes?” “I don’t know.”1 In fact, such things seem almost par for the course when really big money comes into play.

My mind flashed to another billboard, this time one near a church in my neighborhood that said over a graphic of a failing heart monitor, “When you die, you will meet God.” This was meant as a threat, obviously—par for the course in my tradition—but Duncan’s response to it would be, “Why wait?” The hero’s journey was about going on an adventure to find a diamond only to realize it had been sewn into the lining of your coat the entire time. We were all beggars sitting on a box, not realizing the box we never bothered to open was filled with gold. We were already one with everything, already holy, already complete—we had just forgotten.

It is without question that there are many ways in which Exodans have benefited from GC influence. Imubots, artigrav, algae fuel, tunnel access – and of course, mek, which Exodans drink in quantities on par with the rest of the galaxy.

They don’t try to analyze how things are different because of technology; they simply try to relate to a public world in which technology is a given. Because of their social position, what’s novel for teens is not the technology but the public life that it enables. Teens are desperate to have access to and make sense of public life; understanding the technologies that enable publics is just par for the course.

The objection by Dibelius is a weighty one. But since Strauss it has not been uncommon to argue that certain sayings of Jesus have been elaborated into narratives - as for example, the stilling of the storm (Mark 4.35-41, pars.), the miraculous catch of fishes (Luke 5.1-11), and perhaps the cursing of the fig tree (Mark II.12-14 par.).114 If this is a real possibility, how much more likely is it that the (Markan) account of Jesus' experience at Jordan was an elaboration of some indications given by Jesus to his disciples such as we have just noted? Moreover, we know from religious history that it was quite common for a prophetic figure to relate his call to his disciples - so, for example, Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel (all visions and audi- tions);115 as one instance outside Judaeo-Christianity we might mention Mohammed.116 By comparison Jesus seems to have been much more reserved about describing his experience of God to his disciples; this is why we have had to depend to such a large extent on inferences and implications of key sayings. The only real parallel to the self testimony of the prophets' religious experiences is Jesus' exultant cry in Luke 10.18: `I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven' (see below p.85). We can of course only speculate; but it remains quite probable that Jesus never spoke directly of what happened at Jordan, but made some allusions which have provided the basis of the earliest account. In addition, the fact that the earliest Christian communities seem to have practised baptism from the first is probably best explained by the suggestion that Jesus gave his disciples some indication of how important the occasion of his own baptism was for him.

the fabric had torn. A small gash was visible on the front of the rod pocket. Perfect. This was par for the course for her evening and year. Rising to her toes, she mumbled, “Good enough,” and prayed the old ladder held her weight as she placed

Wonderful. Save the world, and all it earns you is suspicion and surveillance. Par for the course for IDF, Granger thought, grimly. It was a wonder Earth still existed after not one, but two alien invasions, given the level of rampant bureaucracy and mistrust and general incompetency. But

In pre-Indira Gandhi days the IB was basically guided by the ‘ear marking’ scheme. This scheme enabled the IB to earmark certain IPS officers while they were under training in the Police Academy. They were earmarked on the basis of their performance in the All India Services Examination, performance in the academy and confidential reports on their shaping up process. A number of brilliant officers, including the illustrious Directors like Hari Anand Barari, M. K. Narayanan, and V. G. Vaidya were inducted through the earmarking scheme. The humble author of this book was also an earmarked officer. Of course, some officers also were inducted on ‘deputation’ from state cadres. They were later absorbed as ‘hard core’ officers. This system was abandoned after 1970 to accommodate ‘loyal and committed officers’ and also to bring the IB at par with other Central Police Organisations (CPO), like the CRPF, BSF. The IB was opened up as a waiting room for IPS officers from the less glamorous state cadres like Manipur and Tripura, Assam, West Bengal and any other state where the prevailing political culture did not suit certain officers. They used the IB to cool off and to catch up with other opportunities.

Life is a full-contact sport, especially on the Internet. If you’re going to step into the arena, bloody noses and a lot of scrapes are par for the course.

À cela s'ajoute la dramatisation des enjeux de la compétition. Aujourd'hui, même si l'espérance d'ascension sociale n'a pas entièrement disparu, le principal ressort de l'adhésion à la société est bien plutôt l'angoisse d'être mis "hors course", de ne pas trouver sa place, de ne pas avoir de travail et, pour ceux qui en ont, de le perdre. Il s'agit d'une modalité d'intégration sociale essentiellement négative, qui est un aspect du gouvernement des conduites par la peur (on sait l'efficacité du précariat et de la menace du chômage dans al modification du rapport de forces au profit du capital). Combinant mise en concurrence totale et extension du risque de non-intégration, la compétition se transforme en une lutte à mort, une lutte pour la survie. Elle constitue alors un ressort d'adaptabilité, tendu à bloc au cœur des subjectivités. (p. 42)

Teens are desperate to have access to and make sense of public life; understanding the technologies that enable publics is just par for the course.

The point the Left ignored, and has insisted on ignoring ever since, is that not everyone in flyover country is like that. A few years before the election, in fact, a group of Klansmen came to Cumberland to hold a recruitment rally, and the churches in town—white as well as black—held a counter-rally on the other side of the street and drowned the Klansmen out, singing hymns at the top of their lungs until the guys in the white robes got back in their cars and drove away in humiliation. Surprising? Not at all; in a great deal of Middle America, that’s par for the course these days.

The one thing an [OKR] system should provide par excellence is focus. This can only happen if we keep the number of objectives small …. Each time you make a commitment, you forfeit your chance to commit to something else. This, of course, is an inevitable, inescapable consequence of allocating any finite resource. People who plan have to have the guts, honesty, and discipline to drop projects as well as to initiate them, to shake their heads “no” as well as to smile “yes.” … We must realize—and act on the realization—that if we try to focus on everything, we focus on nothing.

Well, that seemed to be par for the course for me these days. Taking on the Impossible: The Serenity Drake story. Who would I want to play me in the movie version?

I certainly don’t try to set impossible goals. I think impossible goals are demotivating. You don’t want to tell people to go through a wall by banging their head against it. I don’t ever set intentionally impossible goals. But I’ve certainly always been optimistic on time frames. I’m trying to recalibrate to be a little more realistic. I don’t assume that it’s just like 100 of me or something like that. I mean, in the case of the early SpaceX days, it would have been just the lack of understanding of what it takes to develop a rocket. In that case I was off by, say, 200 percent. I think future programs might be off by anywhere from like 25 percent to 50 percent as opposed to 200 percent. So, I think generally you do want to have a timeline where, based on everything you know about, the schedule should be X, and you execute towards that, but with the understanding that there will be all sorts of things that you don’t know about that you will encounter that will push the date beyond that. It doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t have tried to aim for that date from the beginning because aiming for something else would have been an arbitrary time increase. It’s different to say, “Well, what do you promise people?” Because you want to try to promise people something that includes schedule margin. But in order to achieve the external promised schedule, you’ve got to have an internal schedule that’s more aggressive than that. Sometimes you still miss the external schedule. SpaceX, by the way, is not alone here. Being late is par for the course in the aerospace industry. It’s not a question of if it’s late, it’s how late will the program be. I don’t think an aerospace program has been completed on time since bloody World War II.

Don't you need to check on your mum, though? he asks Ali. "Nah, my brother or Holly are checking in on her tonight." Presumably she's on her own too, since Ali's father upped and offed to continental Europe. It's odd to think that we have something in common, Ali and I: we both grew up without a paternal presence. I reach for the photo of that immortalized dinner party that hasn't yet left the kitchen. "Is this your mum?" I'm pointing to a small but woman with a smile on her face who's standing next to Ali's dad. Even though I'm looking for similarities, I can't see how she turned into the shriveled old woman, with her spiteful pinched mouth, that I encoun tered in the hotel. curvy Ali takes it and squints slightly. "Aye. And my dad. Was that taken here, aye? God, she looks young then." There's a sadness around his eyes, and concern in Ben's as he looks at Ali. "Funny to think our parents all knew one another, and here we are, having a drink together," I muse. "That might be odd in London Town, but it's pretty much par for the course round here," says Ali, putting the photo down. "Very hard to escape the sins of our fathers when everybody around knows exactly what they were." He glances at me. "Shite. Sorry. Let's talk about some thing much less controversial. Like, erm, Scottish independence or something," he says, tongue in cheek.

Ne sommes-nous pas doublement influencés, à la fois par notre admiration des papillons et par notre dégoût des chenilles? Dans la littérature scientifique, on oppose ainsi 'la beauté du papillon, sa vivacité, la surprenante variété de ses couleurs, l'élégance de sa forme ... sa légèreté, son air animé, sa course vagabonde et volage' à la chenille 'vermisseau aveugle et méprisé ... vil et abject': ou encore, dans le cas de la libellule, 'la large ignoble, souillée de vase et de fange' à l'adulte aux 'brillantes ailes de tulle irisées'. Pourtant, si l'on accepte de s'écarter de cet anthropocentrisme désuet, il faut bien constater que si l'adulte est seul capable de reproduction, l'existence de la larve n'est pas moins intéressante. Elle est même parfois bien plus longue. Certaines cigales vivent dix-sept ans sous leur forme larvaire et quelques semaines à l'état adulte! ne pourrait-on pas changer de point de vue, et imaginer que le papillon est seulement un moyen inventé par les chenilles pour trouver facilement un conjoint et se reproduire?

The Ten Commandments As Interpreted by Robin Palmetier 1. Don’t lie. Unless it’s to the police. 2. Don’t cheat your customers. Robin always made sure her dime bags were just a bit larger than any other dealers’ in the area, insuring loyalty in her clientele. 3. Always be polite. Especially to people who don’t like you, as it will piss them off. 4. Don’t steal from anyone. Anyone meaning people, leaving corporations and the IRS fair game. 5. Don’t kill. This one was also on the Bible’s list but, like many Christians, Robin had a long list of exceptions to this rule. It was okay to kill sexual predators (unless they were born-again while serving time), liberal commentators, and anyone described as a "bad guy" by the greatest journalist and political leader of all time, Box News commentator Malcolm Wright. Unless, of course, Mr. Wright happened to be talking about one of her personal friends, which, on occasion, he had. 6. Do not take the Lord’s name in vein. Shit, fuck, cock, pussy, bitch, bastard and their ilk were just fine. Goddamn’s and Jesus Christ’s were no-no’s. 7. Always repay a favor with a favor. Someone does something nice for you, do something nice right back. Being in someone’s debt is a dangerous thing. 8. Affirm that every word in the Bible is true, except the parts that clearly aren’t. Like that thing about eating shellfish—though supposedly an abomination on par with adultery, murder, poly-cotton blends and paying interest on a mortgage—it could not possibly be God’s will. Robin loved scallops and knew the good Lord would not wish to deny her this pleasure. 9. Discuss all decisions with God directly and listen closely to his advice. Sadly, when Praline tried this himself he got nothing but an extended silence, while his mother always seemed to get very detailed instructions. 10. Always remember your mama loves you.

Et au loin, comme Frodon passait l'Anneau à son doigt et le revendiquait pour sien, même dans les Sammath Naur, coeur même du royaume, la Puissance de Barad-dûr fut ébranlée et la Tour trembla de ses fondations à son fier et ultime couronnement. Le Seigneur Ténébreux fut soudain averti de sa présence, et son oeil, perçant toutes les ombres, regarda par-dessus la plaine la porte qu'il avait faite, l'ampleur de sa propre folie lui fut révélée en un éclair aveuglant et tous les stratagèmes de ses ennemis lui apparurent enfin à nu. Sa colère s'embrasa en un feu dévorant, mais sa peur s'éleva comme une vaste fumée noire pour l'étouffer. Car il connaissait le péril mortel où il était et le fil auquel son destin était maintenant suspendu. Son esprit se libéra de toute sa politique et de ses trames de peur et de perfidie, de tous ses stratagèmes et de ses guerres, un frémissement parcourut tout son royaume, ses esclaves fléchirent, ses armées s'arrêtèrent, et ses capitaines, soudain sans direction, hésitèrent et désespérèrent. Car ils étaient oubliés. Toute la pensée et toutes les fins de la Puissance qui les conduisait étaient à présent tournées avec une force irrésistible vers la Montagne. A son appel, vibrant avec un cri déchirant, volèrent en une dernière course désespérée les Nazgûl, les Chevaliers Servants de l'Anneau, qui, en un ouragan d'ailes, s'élançaient en direction du Sud, vers la Montagne du Destin.

Different objects present themselves to consciousness as constituents of different spheres of reality. I recognize the fellowmen I must deal with in the course of everyday life as pertaining to a reality quite different from the disembodied figures that appear in my dreams. The two sets of objects introduce quite different tensions into my consciousness and I am attentive to them in quite different ways. My consciousness, then, is capable of moving through different spheres of reality. Put differently, I am conscious of the world as consisting of multiple realities. As I move from one reality to another, I experience the transition as a kind of shock. This shock is to be understood as caused by the shift in attentiveness that the transition entails. Waking up from a dream illustrates this shift most simply. Among the multiple realities there is one that presents itself as the reality par excellence. This is the reality of everyday life. Its privileged position entitles it to the designation of paramount reality. The tension of consciousness is highest in everyday life, that is, the latter imposes itself upon consciousness in the most massive, urgent and intense manner. It is impossible to ignore, difficult even to weaken in its imperative presence. Consequently, it forces me to be attentive to it in the fullest way. I experience everyday life in the state of being wide-awake. This wide-awake state of existing in and apprehending the reality of everyday life is taken by me to be normal and self-evident, that is, it constitutes my natural attitude. I

Average is not necessarily normal. For example, the average temperature of patients in a hospital may be 100 degrees, but such a temperature is not normal. The average score for a group of friends on the golf course may be 85 for the day, but par may be only 72. So it is with the Christian life. The average experience of church members is far different from New Testament norms for the Christian life. The

He’s in a mood. Par for the course this time of year. You two, come in out of the cold and have some tea. I’ve got everything but those nasty dregs of the devil, Earl Grey.

L'industrialisation serait l'élément décisif, le moteur. Ce qui revient à expliquer une évidente spécificité occidentale - la science - par une non moins évidente spécificité occidentale - l'industrialisation. Ces deux originalités se feraient écho; en tout cas, elles s'accompagnent. La Chine a possédé très tôt, beaucoup plus tôt que l'Occident, une science, une ébauche de science, assez fine et poussée. Mais pour franchir l'étape décisive, elle n'a pas connu cet élan économique qui a soulevé l'Europe, cette tension "capitaliste" qui, en fin de course ou à mi-course, lui a permis de franchit l'obstacle.

This is par for the course any time a man lights a fire. Whether it is a bonfire, a barbecue or a campfire, we take great delight in the act of setting fire to stuff.

We have advised against the purchase at “full prices” of three important categories of securities: (1) foreign bonds, (2) ordinary preferred stocks, and (3) secondary common stocks, including, of course, original offerings of such issues. By “full prices” we mean prices close to par for bonds or preferred stocks, and prices that represent about the fair business value of the enterprise in the case of common stocks. The greater number of defensive investors are to avoid these categories regardless of price; the enterprising investor is to buy them only when obtainable at bargain prices—which we define as prices not more than two-thirds of the appraisal value of the securities.

Finding Jackson Brodie at the heart of this melee seemed par for the course, somehow. He was a friend to anarchy.

Il m’importe peu de savoir si Dieu existe ou non ; mais ce que je sais et que je saurai jusqu’au bout, c’est qu’il n’aurait pas dû créer en même temps l’amour et la mort. Le Neutre, c’est ce Non irréductible : un Non comme suspendu devant les endurcissements de la foi et de la certitude et incorruptible par l’une et par l’autre.

Miss Eulalie Butts and her colleague, Miss Delcross, had founded the college on the astonishing idea that, since gels had nothing much to do until someone married them, they may as well occupy themselves with learning things. There were plenty of schools in the world, but they were all run either by the various churches or by the Guilds. Miss Butts objected to churches on logical grounds and deplored the fact that the only Guilds that considered girls worth educating were the Thieves and the Seamstresses. But it was a big and dangerous world out there, and a gel could do worse than face it with a sound knowledge of geometry and astronomy under her bodice. For Miss Butts sincerely believed that there were no basic differences between boys and gels. At least none worth talking about. None that Miss Butts would talk about, anyway. And therefore she believed in encouraging logical thought and a healthy enquiring mind among the nascent young women in her care, a course of action which is, as far as wisdom is concerned, on a par with going alligator-hunting in a cardboard boat during the sinking season.

Don't submit to defeatism, the problems you're dealing with are par for the course. Relax. And keep going.

It may be that some are unwilling to accept the possibility of conscious thermostats simply because we understand thermostats too well. We know everything about their processing, and there seems no reason to invoke consciousness. But thermostats are really no different from brains here. Even once we understand brain processing perfectly, there will still seem to be no reason to invoke consciousness. The only difference is that right now, what is going on inside a brain is enough of a mystery that one may be tempted to suppose that consciousness is somehow “located” in those brain processes that we do not yet understand. But as I have argued, even coming to understand those processes will not alone bring consciousness into the picture; so here, once again, brains and thermostats are on a par. One might be bothered by the fact that one could build a thermostat oneself, without putting any consciousness in. But of course the same applies to a brain, at least in principle. When we build a brain (in reproduction and development, say), consciousness conies along for free; the same will go for a thermostat. We should not expect to locate consciousness as a physical component of the system! Some may worry about the fact that a thermostat is not alive; but it is hard to see why that should make a principled difference. A disembodied silicon brain of the sort discussed in the last chapter would arguably fail to qualify as alive, but we have seen that it might be conscious. And if the arguments in the last chapter are right, then the fact that a thermostat is not made up of biological components makes no difference, in principle.