Permission Granted Quotes

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Showing a lack of self-control is in the same vein granting authority to others: 'Perhaps I need someone else to control me.
Criss Jami (Venus in Arms)
Ulla could forgive betrayal, another abandonment, even her own death. But not this moment, when after all her sacrifice, she begged for mercy and Signy sought a prince's permission to grant it.
Leigh Bardugo (The Language of Thorns: Midnight Tales and Dangerous Magic (Grishaverse, #0.5, 2.5, 2.6))
The first rule about a black woman’s hair is you don’t talk about a black woman’s hair. And the second rule is you don’t ever touch a black woman’s hair without getting written permission first.
Ben Aaronovitch (Moon Over Soho (Rivers of London #2))
So instead of teaching Chizalum to be likeable, teach her to be honest. And kind. And brave. Encourage her to speak her mind, to say what she really thinks, to speak truthfully. And then praise her when she does. Praise her especially when she takes a stand that is difficult or unpopular because it happens to be her honest position. Tell her that kindness matters. Praise her when she is kind to other people. But teach her that her kindness must never be taken for granted. Tell her that she, too, deserves the kindness of others. Teach her to stand up for what is hers. If another child takes her toy without her permission, ask her to take it back, because her consent is important. Tell her that if anything ever makes her uncomfortable, to speak up, to say it, to shout.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (Dear Ijeawele, or A Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions)
Without knowing it, the adults in our lives practiced a most productive kind of behavior modification. After our chores and household duties were done we were give "permission" to read. In other words, our elders positioned reading as a privilege - a much sought-after prize, granted only to those goodhardworkers who earned it. How clever of them.
Mildred Armstrong Kalish (Little Heathens: Hard Times and High Spirits on an Iowa Farm During the Great Depression)
I'm sorry. I souldn't have shut you out. I know you're hurting, too. " "Permission to speak freely, Sire ?" "Granted." "You're an asshole," she said and hugged him.
Dianne Sylvan (Queen of Shadows (Shadow World, #1))
Permission to disregard your orders, Underqueen." "Permission not granted. Permission categorically denied.
Samantha Shannon (The Song Rising (The Bone Season, #3))
I hereby grant you permission to write crap. The more the better. Remember, crap makes the best fertilizer.
Pat Pattison
i hereby grant myself the permission to not be strong all of the time.  i also grant myself the permission to not be soft all of the time.  i’m allowed to just simply be.  —temperance.
Amanda Lovelace (Break Your Glass Slippers (You Are Your Own Fairy Tale, #1))
I think that's the biggest favor you can grant anyone, don't you? Permission to be dull. I know Henry will sometimes say something so utterly uninteresting that I could faint. And that's when you know you're in love; the tedium isn't unbearable, it's lovely.
Lionel Shriver
.. what she had was hers absolutely, not to be touched by other hands without proper permission being asked and granted.
Charlaine Harris (A Bone to Pick (Aurora Teagarden, #2))
On the whole she fares better with the men, if they can work their way past the awkward preliminaries; if they can avoid calling her "little lady," or saying they weren't expecting her to be so feminine, by which they mean short. Though only the most doddering ones do that any more. If she weren't so tiny, though, she'd never get away with it. If she were six feet tall and built like a blockhouse; if she had hips. Then she'd be threatening, then she'd be an Amazon. It's the incongruity that grants her permission. A breath would blow you away, they beam down at her silently. You wish, thinks Tony, smiling up. Many have blown.
Margaret Atwood (The Robber Bride)
Tell her that kindness matters. Praise her when she is kind to other people. But teach her that kindness must never be taken for granted. Tell her that she, too, deserves the kindness of others. Teach her to stand up for what is hers. If another child takes her toy without her permission, ask her to take it back, because her consent is important. Tell er that if anything ever makes her uncomfortable, to speak up, to say it, to shout.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (Dear Ijeawele, or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions)
When people are not empowered to discover their identity and pursue their destiny in Christ, then they are not being discipled but used. They are not sons being fathered, but servants being given a job to do.
Graham Cooke (Permission Granted to Do Church Differently in the 21st Century)
Betrayal is an important word with this guidepost. When we value being cool and in control over granting ourselves the freedom to unleash the passionate, goofy, heartfelt, and soulful expressions of who we are, we betray ourselves. When we consistently betray ourselves, we can expect to do the same to the people we love. When we don’t give ourselves permission to be free, we rarely tolerate that freedom in others. We put them down, make fun of them, ridicule their behaviors, and sometimes shame them. We can do this intentionally or unconsciously. Either way the message is, “Geez, man.
Brené Brown (The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are)
Saint Bartleby's School for Young Gentlemen Annual Report Student: Artemis Fowl II Year: First Fees: Paid Tutor: Dr Po Language Arts As far as I can tell, Artemis has made absolutely no progress since the beginning of the year. This is because his abilities are beyond the scope of my experience. He memorizes and understands Shakespeare after a single reading. He finds mistakes in every exercise I administer, and has taken to chuckling gently when I attempt to explain some of the more complex texts. Next year I intend to grant his request and give him a library pass during my class. Mathematics Artemis is an infuriating boy. One day he answers all my questions correctly, and the next every answer is wrong. He calls this an example of the chaos theory, and says that he is only trying to prepare me for the real world. He says the notion of infinity is ridiculous. Frankly, I am not trained to deal with a boy like Artemis. Most of my pupils have trouble counting without the aid of their fingers. I am sorry to say, there is nothing I can teach Artemis about mathematics, but someone should teach him some manners. Social Studies Artemis distrusts all history texts, because he says history was written by the victors. He prefers living history, where survivors of certain events can actually be interviewed. Obviously this makes studying the Middle Ages somewhat difficult. Artemis has asked for permission to build a time machine next year during double periods so that the entire class may view Medieval Ireland for ourselves. I have granted his wish and would not be at all surprised if he succeeded in his goal. Science Artemis does not see himself as a student, rather as a foil for the theories of science. He insists that the periodic table is a few elements short and that the theory of relativity is all very well on paper but would not hold up in the real world, because space will disintegrate before lime. I made the mistake of arguing once, and young Artemis reduced me to near tears in seconds. Artemis has asked for permission to conduct failure analysis tests on the school next term. I must grant his request, as I fear there is nothing he can learn from me. Social & Personal Development Artemis is quite perceptive and extremely intellectual. He can answer the questions on any psychological profile perfectly, but this is only because he knows the perfect answer. I fear that Artemis feels that the other boys are too childish. He refuses to socialize, preferring to work on his various projects during free periods. The more he works alone, the more isolated he becomes, and if he does not change his habits soon, he may isolate himself completely from anyone wishing to be his friend, and, ultimately, his family. Must try harder.
Eoin Colfer
The unexpectedness of life, waiting round every corner, catches even wise women unawares," [Freya] wrote. "To avoid corners altogether is, after all, to refuse to live." ...It was if someone in charge had said to me: not guilty. Permission granted to continue on with your life as usual.
Alice Steinbach (Without Reservations: The Travels of an Independent Woman)
The keeper of silence has tremendous control. What she keeps sealed away can never be harmed so long as it remains hidden. Silence is a power, yes, but when does silence turn upon its keeper and become the captor? When does it inhibit the natural impulse to speak, the urge to sing, the longing to contribute? So many wait for the express invitation to speak, for some permission to be granted, to be coaxed into contributing. But what if this invitation never comes? When does silence stop us from fulfilling our purpose, or making connections with others? When does silence stop a healthy disagreement, like the one that names an injustice and invokes change? When is silence being complicit, when it should be calling on a revolution waiting to happen?
Toko-pa Turner (Belonging: Remembering Ourselves home)
The one thing parents can do for their children is live their lives as fully as they can, for this will open the children’s imagination, grant permission to them to have their own journey, and open the doors of possibility for them. Wherever we are stuck, they will have a tendency to be stuck also or will spend their life trying to overcompensate. Living our own journey as fully as possible is not only a gift to our soul, it also frees up the generation behind us to live theirs as well. The very freedom to live our lives that we wished from our parents, we thereby grant to our children to live theirs.
James Hollis (Living an Examined Life: Wisdom for the Second Half of the Journey)
There is a concept called body autonomy. It’s generally considered a human right. Bodily autonomy means a person has control over who or what uses their body, for what, and for how long. It’s why you can’t be forced to donate blood, tissue, or organs. Even if you are dead. Even if you’d save or improve 20 lives. It’s why someone can’t touch you, have sex with you, or use your body in any way without your continuous consent. A fetus is using someone’s body parts. Therefore under bodily autonomy, it is there by permission, not by right. It needs a persons continuous consent. If they deny and withdraw their consent, the pregnant person has the right to remove them from that moment. A fetus is equal in this regard because if I need someone else’s body parts to live, they can also legally deny me their use. By saying a fetus has a right to someone’s body parts until it’s born, despite the pregnant person’s wishes, you are doing two things: 1. Granting a fetus more rights to other people’s bodies than any born person. 2. Awarding a pregnant person less rights to their body than a corpse.
Hannah Goff
Being here, living now, recognizing our smallness, is a spiritual practice. It allows us to be at peace with our humanity. It humbles us and grants us permission to fumble, and not know, and fail, and also to take pleasure in the small triumphs of our days.
Marya Hornbacher (Waiting: A Nonbeliever's Higher Power)
When it comes to leadership, silence is nonverbal communication. It communicates agreement and grants permission by saying, “What you’re doing is fine.
John Bevere (Killing Kryptonite: Destroy What Steals Your Strength)
Medicine had granted permission to a fantasy that men have never abandoned, a muddled version of what Pygmalion wanted - something between a real woman and a beautiful thing.
Siri Hustvedt (What I Loved)
Most of the things we deem as impossible are only impossible because we’ve given them permission to be impossible.
Craig D. Lounsbrough
As women, we ache to believe that real beauty can be found in the midst of imperfection. We are crying out for permission to lower our standards. Let yourself know: permission granted.
Myquillyn Smith (The Nesting Place: It Doesn't Have to Be Perfect to Be Beautiful)
The story of Jackie Robinson is a classic example of how whiteness obscures racism by rendering whites, white privilege, and racist institutions invisible. Robinson is often celebrated as the first African American to break the color line and play in major-league baseball. While Robinson was certainly an amazing baseball player, this story line depicts him as racially special, a black man who broke the color line himself. The subtext is that Robinson finally had what it took to play with whites, as if no black athlete before him was strong enough to compete at that level. Imagine if instead, the story went something like this: “Jackie Robinson, the first black man whites allowed to play major-league baseball.” This version makes a critical distinction because no matter how fantastic a player Robinson was, he simply could not play in the major leagues if whites—who controlled the institution—did not allow it. Were he to walk onto the field before being granted permission by white owners and policy makers, the police would have removed him.
Robin DiAngelo (White Fragility: Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism)
Francaise with our own proper pack. This permission, we feel bound to say, was graciously granted; which compels us here to give a public contradiction to the slanderers who pretend that we live
Alexandre Dumas (The Three Musketeers (The D'Artagnan Romances, #1))
...No one ever told her it was okay to make mistakes. No one told her there was nothing wrong with needing help. No one told her it was normal to feel upset, or angry, or overwhelmed now and then. Everyone in her life took her perfectionism for granted and didn't realize how suffocating it was. And because no one gave the young woman permission to be human, she thought she was a failure for being one.
Chris Colfer (Worlds Collide (The Land of Stories, #6))
That tradition is the way our culture gets made. As I explain in the pages that follow, we come from a tradition of "free culture"—not "free" as in "free beer" (to borrow a phrase from the founder of the freesoftware movement[2] ), but "free" as in "free speech," "free markets," "free trade," "free enterprise," "free will," and "free elections." A free culture supports and protects creators and innovators. It does this directly by granting intellectual property rights. But it does so indirectly by limiting the reach of those rights, to guarantee that follow-on creators and innovators remain as free as possible from the control of the past. A free culture is not a culture without property, just as a free market is not a market in which everything is free. The opposite of a free culture is a "permission culture"—a culture in which creators get to create only with the permission of the powerful, or of creators from the past.
Lawrence Lessig (Free Culture: The Nature and Future of Creativity)
To give a gift, we think that someone must receive it. But possibly the greatest gift is granting the recipient permission to reject it, for then we have freed that gift of every agenda that would render it as less than a gift.
Craig D. Lounsbrough
For victims of some crimes, real and horrible crimes, permission to stay in American territory is probably insufficient recompense. But it's better than nothing. It's certainly better than the right to a mass grave in Tamaulipas or Veracruz, for instance - the most common "permanent residence" granted to Central American migrants who travel across Mexico.
Valeria Luiselli (Tell Me How It Ends: An Essay in Forty Questions)
Humans belong to the group of conscious beings that are carbon-based, solar system-dependent, limited in knowledge, prone to error and mortal.’ It is strangely comforting to be granted tacit permission to make mistakes just because we are human.
Sue Black (All That Remains: A Life in Death)
We have been granted permission to use the resources of Earth in all their glorious abundance for our education and growth in life, and we have a responsibility to return them to their rightful place, as much as possible in their original condition.
Ilchi Lee (Change: Realizing Your Greatest Potential)
I cannot see you hurt, ma chère,” he said softly. “Allow me.” “Allow” was a strange word. Zofia had never considered that she might grant someone permission to protect her, and a feeling of warmth—like gulping down not-too-hot soup—settled into her chest. She stepped back wordlessly. “You look like you have practice in such recreation, Patriarch,” said Eva. Hypnos merely held out his hand. Eva slashed her taloned ring across it, leaving his palm bloody. Grimacing, Hypnos pressed his hand to the metal. A moment passed, then two … “I hope I did not ruin myself for nothing,” muttered Hypnos. “That was my favorite palm, you know.
Roshani Chokshi (The Silvered Serpents (The Gilded Wolves, #2))
There must have been a problem, we offer. God must have something even better around the corner, we propose. Must He? Here, then is my Lenten plea for the day: let the mourning mourn. Grant those who grieve the dignity to ask questions. Bestow upon the bewildered permission to not edit their honesty. Crucifixion is, after all, serious work.
Alicia Britt Chole (40 Days of Decrease: A Different Kind of Hunger. A Different Kind of Fast.)
Stop asking for permission. Your preparation grants you access.
Joy Marino
You can create dozens or even hundreds of paths for an individual to follow from the first contact until the highest level of permission is granted.
Seth Godin (Permission Marketing : Turning Strangers Into Friends And Friends Into Customers)
Liberty is about being free and is granted by laws and conventions and government permissions. Freedom is about feeling free, and the only permission you need for that is your own.
Beth Kempton (Freedom Seeker: Live More. Worry Less. Do What You Love.)
The power of a thing is not based on the power it actually possesses. Rather, it is much more about the power that we permit it to possess.
Craig D. Lounsbrough
was granted permission to wiretap the two main characters
Joakim Palmkvist (The Dark Heart: A True Story of Greed, Murder, and an Unlikely Investigator)
That’s the American Way—they need to give people an excuse to come and worship. These days, people can’t just go and see a mountain. Thus, Mister Gutzon Borglum’s tremendous presidential faces. Once they were carved, permission was granted, and now the people drive out in their multitudes to see something in the flesh that they’ve already seen on a thousand postcards.
Neil Gaiman (American Gods)
But now, with permission finally granted, an urgency gripped him and he seemed to bypass her needs and push his way. She cried out against a sharp tearing, thinking something was wrong.
Delia Owens (Where the Crawdads Sing)
Workers were required to stay six months, and even then permission to quit was not always granted. The factory held the first two months of every worker's pay; leaving without approval meant losing that money and starting over somewhere else. That was a fact of factory life you couldn't know from the outside: Getting into a factory was easy. The hard part was getting out.
Leslie T. Chang
but the first rule about a black woman’s hair is you don’t talk about a black woman’s hair. And the second rule is you don’t ever touch a black woman’s hair without getting written permission first.
Ben Aaronovitch (Moon Over Soho (Rivers of London #2))
Ship ID Renegade Transport, Captain Surukta requesting permission to land.” “Captain Surukta, permission granted to landing area thirty-two. Congratulations on your safe arrival,” a voice responded over the intercom. Teka snorted as she switched off the communicator. “I bet that’s standard practice, congratulating people on surviving.” “I’ve been here before,” Sifa said, wry. “It is indeed standard practice.
Veronica Roth (The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2))
The Creed of the Assassin Brotherhood teaches us that nothing is forbidden to us. Once, I thought that meant we were free to do as we would. To pursue our ideals, no matter the cost. I understand now. Not a grant of permission. The Creed is a warning. Ideals too easily give way to dogma. Dogma becomes fanaticism. No higher power sits in judgement of us. No supreme being watches to punish us for our sins. In the end, only we ourselves can guard against our obsessions. Only we can decide whether the road we walk carries too high a toll. We believe ourselves redeemers, avengers, saviours. We make war on those who oppose us, and they in turn make war on us. We dream of leaving our stamp upon the world... even as we give our lives in a conflict that will be recorded in no history book. All that we do, all that we are, begins and ends with ourselves.
Arno Victor Dorian
Perhaps you'd like, you gentle fellow, To hear what I'm prepared to say On "kinfolk" and their implications? Well, here's my view of close relations: They're people whom we're bound to prize, To honor, love, and idolize, And following the old tradition, To visit come the Christmas feast, Or send a wish by mail at least; All other days they've our permission, To quite forget us if they please- So grant them, God, long life and ease!
Alexander Pushkin (Eugene Onegin)
grant yourself permission to be led by the knowledge of a grown woman’s mind. When you find that you are walking down a familiar, darkened tunnel, do not force yourself toward the light, but instead, turn around and change the bulb.
Dina Redmon (Chasing Circumstance)
Imagine if instead, the story went something like this: “Jackie Robinson, the first black man whites allowed to play major-league baseball.” This version makes a critical distinction because no matter how fantastic a player Robinson was, he simply could not play in the major leagues if whites—who controlled the institution—did not allow it. Were he to walk onto the field before being granted permission by white owners and policy makers, the police would have removed him.
Robin DiAngelo (White Fragility: Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism)
The people were divided into the persecuted and those who persecuted them. That wile beast, which lives in man and does not dare to show itself until the barriers of law and custom have been removed, was now set free. The signal was given, the barriers were down. As has so often happened in the history of man, permission was tacitly granted for acts of violence and plunder, even for murder, if they were carried out in the name of higher interests, according to established rules, and against a limited number of men of a particular type and belief....In a few minutes the business quarter, based on centuries of tradition, was wiped out. It is true that there had always been concealed enmities and jealousies and religious intolerance, coarseness and cruelty, but there had also been courage and fellowship and a feeling for measure and order, which restrained all these instincts within the limits of the supportable and, in the end, calmed them down and submitted them to the general interest of life in common. Men who had been leaders in the commercial quarter for forty years vanished overnight as if they had all died suddenly, together with the habits, customs and institutions which they represented. p. 11
Peter Maass (Love Thy Neighbor: A Story of War)
Don’t fool yourself with destructive ideals cloaked in clever justifications or soothingly wrapped in smooth verbiage. For in the end, these are not the things that fool you. Rather, it is the fact that you’ve granted them permission to fool you.
Craig D. Lounsbrough
the only permission ever granted by society is permission to follow its norms and traditions. No one will grant us permission to advance quickly, because they fear being left behind or made a fool for clinging to a world already fading in relevance.
Brendon Burchard (The Motivation Manifesto)
Bootie Grant Glover! You do amaze me!" Mem stared at her sister. "Do I understand this? You're giving me permission to engage in a romantic tryst?" "Certainly not!" Bootie pulled to her full diminished height. "I'm merely saying if disaster strikes, I won't abandon you.
Maggie Osborne (Brides of Prairie Gold (Dangerous Men, #2))
But when we adopt the biblical perspective of the cosmic temple, it is no longer possible to look at the world (or space) in secular terms. It is not ours to exploit. We do not have natural resources, we have sacred resources. Obviously this view is far removed from a view that sees nature as divine: As sacred space the cosmos is his place. It is therefore not his person. The cosmos is his place, and our privileged place in it is his gift to us. The blessing he granted was that he gave us the permission and the ability to subdue and rule. We are stewards.
John H. Walton (The Lost World of Genesis One: Ancient Cosmology and the Origins Debate)
but the first rule about a black woman’s hair is you don’t talk about a black woman’s hair. And the second rule is you don’t ever touch a black woman’s hair without getting written permission first. And that includes after sex, marriage, or death for that matter. This courtesy is not reciprocated.
Ben Aaronovitch (Moon Over Soho (Rivers of London #2))
Nobody in the world welcomes us quite like our parents do. The reception, if we're lucky, is a simultaneous cosseting and taking for granted. An experience that's, at best, comforting and exasperating in equal measure, unique in its loaded history of give andtake, its private parameters of permission and expection.
Priya Basil (Be My Guest: Reflections on Food, Community and the Meaning of Generosity)
Encourage her to speak her mind, to say what she really thinks, to speak truthfully. And then praise her when she does. Praise her especially when she takes a stand that is difficult or unpopular because it happens to be her honest position. Tell her that kindness matters. Praise her when she is kind to other people. But teach her that her kindness must never be taken for granted. Tell her that she too deserves the kindness of others. Teach her to stand up for what is hers. If another child takes her toy without her permission, ask her to take it back, because her consent is important. Tell her that if anything ever makes her uncomfortable, to speak up, to say it, to shout.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (Dear Ijeawele, or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions)
The discovery of a completely unknown manuscript at a period in which historical science is carried to such a high degree appeared almost miraculous. We hastened, therefore, to obtain permission to print it, with the view of presenting ourselves someday with the pack of others at the doors of the Academie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres, if we should not succeed—a very probable thing, by the by—in gaining admission to the Academie Francaise with our own proper pack. This permission, we feel bound to say, was graciously granted; which compels us here to give a public contradiction to the slanderers who pretend that we live under a government but moderately indulgent to men of letters.
Alexandre Dumas (The Three Musketeers (The D'Artagnan Romances, #1))
A woman cannot give a man his sense of maleness. He can desire her, but not identify with her. At best, she can give him a negative identification: I am the opposite of her. This can be very thrilling, but still leaves him deprived of an object of positive identification. (..) other men are brought in to fill the void. They provide contact with an element the inventor, consciously or not, knows he needs to assert himself as fully male. (..) By joining in their sexual games, the woman grants absolution and permission. It isn’t so much that these men use women to get to other men as that they need the woman to help break through the guilt barrier that blocks them from their feelings about other men.
Nancy Friday (Men In Love)
permissiveness is the acceptance of imaginary and symbolic behavior. Over-permissiveness is the allowing of undesirable acts. Permissiveness and acceptance of all feelings bring confidence and an increasing capacity to express feelings and thoughts. Over-permissiveness brings anxiety and increasing demands for privileges that cannot be granted. Permit
Haim G. Ginott (Between Parent and Child: The Bestselling Classic That Revolutionized Parent-Child Communication)
It’s so important for husbands and wives to be united when making parenting decisions. If either parent doesn’t feel good about something, then permission should not be granted. If either feels uncomfortable about a movie, a television show, a video game, a party, a dress, a swimsuit, or an Internet activity, have the courage to support each other and say no.
Larry R. Lawrence
Oh, I am so sick of the young men of the present day!” exclaimed she, rattling away at the instrument. “Poor, puny things, not fit to stir a step beyond papa’s park gates: nor to go even so far without mama’s permission and guardianship! Creatures so absorbed in care about their pretty faces, and their white hands, and their small feet; as if a man had anything to do with beauty! As if loveliness were not the special prerogative of woman—her legitimate appanage and heritage! I grant an ugly woman is a blot on the fair face of creation; but as to the gentlemen, let them be solicitous to possess only strength and valour: let their motto be:—Hunt, shoot, and fight: the rest is not worth a fillip. Such should be my device, were I a man.
Charlotte Brontë (Jane Eyre)
I shall take leave to tell you, Carleton, that I find your – your wit offensive!’ ‘By all means!’ replied Mr Carleton. ‘You have my leave to tell me anything you choose! How unjust it would be in me to refuse to grant you leave to do so when it has never occurred to me that I should ask your permission to say that I find you a dead bore, which I’ve been doing for years.
Georgette Heyer (Lady of Quality)
When we grant ourselves permission to grieve, we make the experience of grief something we recognize, something we welcome into our lives. We allow it to show up the way it wants to through feelings, identities, and actions. We write our own expectations and stories. Our grief becomes ours again and we become more ourselves again because we actively choose to experience grief.
Shelby Forsythia (Permission to Grieve: Creating Grace, Space, & Room to Breathe in the Aftermath of Loss)
Some religions, such as Catholicism, fully endorsed slavery, as Pope Nicholas V made clear when, in 1452, he issued the radically proslavery document Dum Diversas. This was a papal bull granting Catholic countries such as Spain and Portugal “full and free permission to invade, search out, capture, and subjugate the Saracens and pagans and any other unbelievers and enemies of Christ wherever they may be, as well as their kingdoms, duchies, counties, principalities, and other property … and to reduce their persons into perpetual slavery.”10 These last few words—to reduce their persons into perpetual slavery—sound not just sinister to us, but also psychotic. They make perfect sense, however, in a Christian context, given that the Bible is itself a heedlessly proslavery tome.
Michael Shermer (The Moral Arc: How Science and Reason Lead Humanity toward Truth, Justice, and Freedom)
My first mistake is to humanize God. My second mistake is to hold those wretched human characteristics up against all of the majestic things that I sense God should be. The blatant discrepancy which is certain to ensue then allows me to not only justify my rejection of Him, it grants me unbridled permission to discount His existence altogether. And that third and final mistake is without a doubt the most costly of all.
Craig D. Lounsbrough
Normally the first to read the small print, I had deliberately hidden away any paperwork that referred to this ridiculous task, and now I found myself kissing goodbye to a laptop, a mobile phone and two fully-loaded MP3 players, not to mention the halogen light that allowed me to work through the night if I so desired.   I stared disconsolately out over the shimmering tarmac and   wondered if I might be granted permission to shave my legs.
Tabitha McGowan (The Tied Man (The Tied Man, #1))
It means what it says," he managed, staring at her again. "There's not a lot of subtlety in this particular strip." She took the paper back from him and stuck it in her pocket. It was something she intended to keep forever. "You've used me rather lavishly in your work recently." She had to tilt back her head in order to keep her eyes level with his. Grant thought she looked more regal than ever. If she turned her thumb down, she could throw him to the lions. "Didn't it occur to you to ask permission first?" "Artist's privilage." He felt the light spray hit his back, saw it dampen her hair. "Where the hell did you go?" he heard himself demand. "Where the hell have you been?" Her eyes narrowed. "That's my business, isn't it?" "Oh,no." He grabbed her arms and shook. "Oh,no,it's not.You're not going to walk out on me." Gennie set her teeth and waited until he'd stopped shaking her. "If memory serves,you did the walking figuratively before I did it literally." "All right! I acted like an idiot. You want an apology?" he shouted at her. "I'll give you any kind you want. I'll-" He broke off, his breath heaving. "Oh,God,first." And his mouth crushed down on hers, his fingers digging into her shoulders. The groan that was wrenched from him was only one more sign of a desperate need. She was here,she was his.He'd never let her go again.
Nora Roberts (The MacGregors: Alan & Grant (The MacGregors, #3-4))
He turned his face my way, not having very far to lean in, and kissed me once, sweet and slow—a breeze off the ocean—almost like he was asking permission. He opened his eyes to look at me. Permission granted, Lieutenant. When we kissed again, it was totally different. He scooted closer, his warm hands on either side of my neck. The pressure of his fingers under my hair was solid and strong, yet always gentle. When his lips parted, I got dizzy, like he might positively absorb me. For a second I feared I might be swooning like those silly ladies in Jane Austen novels. “That was rude of me to interrupt,” he whispered, his lips on the corner of my mouth. “But I’m not about to make this decision easy for you.” How he managed to string together so many coherent words was beyond me; I couldn’t even remember what day it was. His fingers combed through my hair, and I caught a flash of his green eyes as they flickered open.
Ophelia London (Abby Road (Abby Road, #1))
Slave, my hands are sticky. Come, wash them. Bring the perfumed water." Passia waved at me with a finger slick with honey. She was radiant, lying on the couch next to Helene. Both were dressed in new stolae that Aelia had gifted them for the holiday. I grinned and rushed forward with the basin and a towel. "Permission to speak," I asked her as I took her sticky hand in mine. She smirked. "Permission granted." I slowly ran the damp towel across each slender finger. I kept my voice low so only she could hear. "Later, my dear Domina, I would be delighted to wash you in private." She raised an eyebrow at me. "I think you will have to prove yourself first, boy." I bowed in front of her, my head on the tiles. "I will do anything you require, Domina." "Good. Now fetch me some more honey fritters. And you will clean my hands again, when I call for you." I winked at her. "Yes, Domina. Anything for you." That night our lovemaking tasted sweeter than all the honey in Iberia.
Crystal King (Feast of Sorrow)
Permission Granted" You do not have to choose the bruised peach or misshapen pepper others pass over. You don't have to bury your grandmother's keys underneath her camellia bush as the will states. You don't need to write a poem about your grandfather coughing up his lung into that plastic tube—the machine's wheezing almost masking the kvetching sisters in their Brooklyn kitchen. You can let the crows amaze your son without your translation of their cries. You can lie so long under this summer shower your imprint will be left when you rise. You can be stupid and simple as a heifer. Cook plum and apple turnovers in the nude. Revel in the flight of birds without dreaming of flight. Remember the taste of raw dough in your mouth as you edged a pie. Feel the skin on things vibrate. Attune yourself. Close your eyes. Hum. Each beat of the world's pulse demands only that you feel it. No thoughts. Just the single syllable: Yes ... See the homeless woman following the tunings of a dead composer? She closes her eyes and sways with the subways. Follow her down, inside, where the singing resides.
David Allen Sullivan
I am not in the habit', said Don Quixote, 'of despoiling those whom I vanquish, nor is it a custom of chivalry to take their horses and leave them on foot, unless the victor has lost his own horse in the fray, in which case it is legitimate to take the defeated knight's horse, as a prize won in lawful war. And so, Sancho, leave that horse, or donkey, or whatever you want to call it, for as soon as its master sees that we have gone he will return for it.' God knows I'd love to take it', replied Sancho, 'or at least swap it for mine, because I don't think mine's such a good one. These laws of chivalry are really strict, if they won't even stretch to letting you swap one donkey for another - could you please tell me if I can at least swap the tackle?' I am not very clear about that', replied Don Quixote, 'and as it is a doubtful case, I should say that until I am better informed you can swap it, if your need is very great.' It's so great', said Sancho, 'that if I'd wanted the tackle to wear it myself I couldn't have needed it more.' And, now that he'd been granted official permission, he performed his mutatio capparum and refurbished his donkey.
Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (Don Quixote)
Meanwhile, Hawaiian politicians tried to make up for lost time by officially granting cops the “right” to rape sex workers by spelling the permission out in the text of the new prostitution law. When a legislator discovered this provision in 2015 and rewrote the law to scrap it, the cops demanded that their decades-old droit du seigneur remain in place, and it probably would’ve had not the media gotten hold of the story and a public outcry not ensued. Now there’s a movement to decriminalize sex work there, which might at last free Hawaiian whores from the tender mercies of cops.
Maggie McNeill (The Essential Maggie McNeill, Volume I: Collected Essays from "The Honest Courtesan")
My assignment as the post’s adjutant and personnel officer (I ended the war a captain) put me in close contact with the civilian bureaucrats and it didn’t take long for me to decide I didn’t think much of the inefficiency, empire building, and business-as-usual attitude that existed in wartime under the civil service system. If I suggested that an employee might be expendable, his supervisor would look at me as if I were crazy. He didn’t want to reduce the size of his department; his salary was based to a large extent on the number of people he supervised. He wanted to increase it, not decrease it. I discovered it was almost impossible to remove an incompetent or lazy worker and that one of the most popular methods supervisors used in dealing with an incompetent was to transfer him or her out of his department to a higher-paying job in another department. We had a warehouse filled with cabinets containing old records that had no use or historic value. They were totally obsolete. Well, with a war on, there was a need for the warehouse and the filing cabinets, so a request was sent up through channels requesting permission to destroy the obsolete papers. Back came a reply—permission granted provided copies are made of each paper destroyed.
Ronald Reagan (An American Life)
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Erin Hunter (Dark River (Warriors: Power of Three #2))
And brave. Encourage her to speak her mind, to say what she really thinks, to speak truthfully. And then praise her when she does. Praise her especially when she takes a stand that is difficult or unpopular because it happens to be her honest position. Tell her that kindness matters. Praise her when she is kind to other people. But teach her that her kindness must never be taken for granted. Tell her that she, too, deserves the kindness of others. Teach her to stand up for what is hers. If another child takes her toy without her permission, ask her to take it back, because her consent is important. Tell her that if anything ever makes her uncomfortable, to speak up, to say it, to shout.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (Dear Ijeawele, or A Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions)
A story is told about David as a young boy in King Saul’s court. He asked permission to play on a beautiful harp that was sitting unused in the throne room. King Saul said: “It’s useless. I have been cheated. I paid a great deal for that harp because it was spoken of highly. But the best harpists have tried it, and it was painful to hear the ugly sounds it produced. It’s the worst harp that you could imagine.” David persisted; and because the king loved him greatly, he granted David permission to play it. The music was so beautiful that all the court wept. They had been moved to the depths of their hearts. “How is it,” demanded King Saul, “that so many tried to play this harp, and only you succeeded?” David replied, “All the others tried to play their own songs, and the harp refused to yield to their wishes. I played to the harp its own song. You saw its joy when I reminded it of the days when it was a young tree in the forest. I told it about sunbeams playing in its branches, about chirping birds and about lovers embracing each other in its shadow. The harp was glad to remember those days. “I told the story of the evil men who came and cut down the innocent tree. It was a sad day. Its life as a tree had finished. However, I told the harp that death cannot triumph over life. The tree has died as a tree, but its wood has become a harp, which can sing forever the glories of the eternal God. And the harp, which had wept when I told about her death, now rejoiced.
Richard Wurmbrand (The Midnight Bride)
in such moments I have formulated my creed, wherein all is clear and holy to me. This creed is extremely simple; here it is: I believe that there is nothing lovelier, deeper, more sympathetic, more rational, more manly, and more perfect than the Saviour; I say to myself with jealous love that not only is there no one else like Him, but that there could be no one. I would even say more: If anyone could prove to me that Christ is outside the truth, and if the truth really did exclude Christ, I should prefer to stay with Christ and not with truth. I would rather not say anything more about it. And yet I don't know why certain topics may never be touched on in society, and why, if anyone does introduce them, it makes the others uncomfortable. Still, enough of it. I heard that you were desirous of travelling somewhere in the South. God grant that you may succeed in obtaining permission to do so. But will you please tell me when we shall be quite free, or at any rate as free as other people ? Perhaps only when we no longer need freedom ? For my part, I want all or nothing. In my soldier's uniform I am the same prisoner as before. I rejoice greatly that I find there is patience in my soul for quite a long time yet, that I desire no earthly possessions, and need nothing but books, the possibility of writing, and of being daily for a few hours alone. The last troubles me most. For almost five years I have been constantly under surveillance, or with several other people, and not one hour alone with myself. To be alone is a natural need, like eating and drinking ; for in that kind of concentrated communism one becomes a whole-hearted enemy of mankind. The constant companionship of others works like poison or plague; and from that unendurable martyrdom I most suffered in the last four years. There were moments in which I hated every man, whether good or evil, and regarded him as a thief who, unpunished, was robbing me of life. The most unbearable part is when one grows unjust, malignant, and evil, is aware of it, even reproves one's-self, and yet has not the power to control one's-self. I have experienced that. I am convinced that God will keep you from it. I believe that you, as a woman, have more power to forgive and to endure. Do
Fyodor Dostoevsky (Letters of Fyodor Michailovitch Dostoyevsky to his family and friends)
Ahoy!” a seaman called out. “The English frigate Polaris, ten days out from Antigua, bound for Portsmouth.” “Ahoy, yerself!” It was O’Shea’s rough brogue. She’d never heard sweeter music. “This be the clipper Sophia, of no particular country at the moment. Seven days out from Tortola, bound for…well, bound for here. Captain requests permission to board.” Gray. It had to be Gray. The officers of the Polaris exchanged wary looks. “Oh, for Heaven’s sake.” Sophia pushed forward to the ship’s rail and cupped her hands around her mouth, calling, “Permission to board granted!” A cheer rose up from the other ship’s deck. “It’s her, all right!” a voice called. Stubb’s, Sophia thought. Oh, but she hardly cared who was on the other deck. She cared only for the strong figure swinging across the watery divide as the two ships came abreast. Turning back toward the center of the ship, she pushed her way through the sweaty throng of sailors, desperate to get to him. Her foot caught on a rope, and she tripped- But it didn’t matter. Gray was there to catch her. And he was still wearing those sea-weathered, fire-scarred boots. No doubt for sentimental reasons. “Steady there,” he murmured, catching her by the elbows. She looked up to meet his beautiful blue-green eyes. “I have you.” “Oh, Gray.” She launched herself into his arms, clinging to his neck as he laughed and spun her around. “You’re here.” “I’m here.” And he was. Every strong, solid, handsome inch of him. Sophia buried her face in his throat, breathing in his scent. Lord, how she’d missed him. She pulled away, bracing her hands on his shoulders to study his face. “I can’t believe you came after me.” “I can’t believe you actually left.” He lowered her to the deck, and her hands slid to his arms. “I thought you were bluffing with that bit. I’d have never allowed you to go.
Tessa Dare (Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy, #2))
I’m the Captain, which means I can sanction a team,” he starts. “This team will be off the books, so to speak.” “The four of us make up this team?” I ask. “Correct, kind of,” he says. “I realize you and Macy aren’t law enforcement, but no one needs to know that. The four of you will be a team that takes the cases we haven’t had the means to close. The cases no one will miss.” “You mean, the cases no one wants,” says Rafe. “Yes,” says the Cap. “But the law, as Venessa well knows, in many cases doesn’t help, but hinders. I’m giving you four the authority to use the law when needed, and bend it when necessary.” “By any means necessary?” asks Macy. “The women will have more ‘liberties’, we’ll call them, because they aren’t in law enforcement,” he says. “You two, of course, know the law and I expect you to use it when it’s called for.” “And when it isn’t?” asks Rogue. “That’s your call,” he says. “You’ll have my support and report only to me, other than that…” “You’re giving us permission to be lawless?” I ask, getting extremely excited. Granted, I’ll still do it anyway but it’s like I just got the green light to be naughty. “I suppose I am,” he says. Brutal-K.S. Adkins
K.S. Adkins
The people were divided into the persecuted and those who persecuted them. That wild beast, which lives in man and does not dare to show itself until the barriers of law and custom have been removed, was now set free. The signal was given, the barriers were down. As has so often happened in the history of man, permission was tacitly granted for acts of violence and plunder, even for murder, if they were carried out in the name of higher interests, according to established rules, and against a limited number of men of a particular type and belief....In a few minutes the business quarter, based on centuries of tradition, was wiped out. It is true that there had always been concealed enmities and jealousies and religious intolerance, coarseness and cruelty, but there had also been courage and fellowship and a feeling for measure and order, which restrained all these instincts within the limits of the supportable and, in the end, calmed them down and submitted them to the general interest of life in common. Men who had been leaders in the commercial quarter for forty years vanished overnight as if they had all died suddenly, together with the habits, customs and institutions which they represented. p. 11
Peter Maass (Love Thy Neighbor: A Story of War)
One thing we were sure of, we did not want to become accredited as regular correspondents, with correspondents’ credentials, for in that case we should have been under the sponsorship and control of the Foreign Office. The Foreign Office rules are very strict regarding correspondents, and if we once became their babies, we could not have left Moscow without special permission, which is rarely granted. We could not have traveled with any freedom, and our material would have been subject to Foreign Office censorship. These things we did not want, for we had already talked to the American and British correspondents in Moscow, and we had found that their reporting activities were more or less limited to the translation of Russian daily papers and magazines, and the transmission of their translations, and even then censorship quite often cut large pieces out of their cables. And some of the censorship was completely ridiculous. Once, one American correspondent, in describing the city of Moscow, said that the Kremlin is triangular in shape. He found this piece of information cut out of his copy. Indeed, there were no censorship rules on which one could depend, but the older correspondents, the ones who had been in Moscow a long time, knew approximately what they could and could not get through. That eternal battle between correspondents and censor goes on.
John Steinbeck (A Russian Journal)
All of a sudden (in 1938 I think), in order to extend its autarchy to the domain of cinema, Italy decreed an embargo on American films. It wasn’t a question of censorship: as usual the censors granted or denied permission to individual films, and nobody saw the ones that didn’t get it and that was it. In spite of the awkward anti-Hollywood propaganda campaign that accompanied the measure (right around that time the regime began to conform to Hitler’s racism), the true reason for the embargo was supposed to be commercial protectionism, in order to make room in the market for Italian (and German) productions. For this reason the four largest American production and distribution companies—Metro, Fox, Paramount, Warner—(I’m still relying on memory, trusting the accuracy of the registration of my trauma), whereas films by other American companies like RKO, Columbia, Universal, United Artists (which had also been distributed before then by Italian companies) continued to arrive until 1941, that is until Italy found itself at war with the United States. I was still granted some sporadic satisfaction (in fact, one of the greatest: Stagecoach [John Ford, 1939]) but my collector’s voracity suffered a fatal blow. Compared to all of the prohibitions and obligations that fascism had imposed on us, and to the even more severe ones that it continued to enforce in those years before and then during the war, the veto on American films was certainly a minor or small loss, and I wasn’t foolish enough not to know it. Yet it was the first to affect me directly, and I hadn’t known any years other than those of fascism nor had I felt any needs other than those that the environment in which I lived could suggest and satisfy. It was the first time a right I enjoyed had been taken from me: more than a right, a dimension, a world, a space in my mind; and I felt this loss as cruel oppression which embodied all the forms of oppression that I’d heard about or seen other people suffer. If I can still talk about it today like a lost privilege it’s because something disappeared like that from my life, never to return again. So many things had changed after the war was over: I’d changed, cinema had become something else, something different in itself and in relation to me. My biography as a spectator resumed, but it was that of another spectator who wasn’t just a spectator anymore.
Italo Calvino (Making a Film)
Blackbeard the pirate was actually Edward Teach sometimes known as Edward Thatch, who lived from 1680 until his death on November 22, 1718. Blackbeard was a notorious English pirate who sailed around the eastern coast of North America. Although little is known about his childhood he may have worked as an apprentice on an English ship, during the second phase in a series of wars between the French and the English from 1754 and ended in 1778 as part of the American Revolutionary War. The war had different names depending on where it was fought. In the American colonies the war was known as the French and Indian War. During the time it was fought during the reign of Anne, Queen of Great Britain, it was called Queen Anne's War and in Europe it was known as the War of the Spanish Succession. During the earlier period of hostilities between France and England, some English ships were granted permission to raid French colonies and French ships and were considered privateers. Captain Benjamin Hornigold, whose crew Teach joined around 1716 operated from the Bahamian island of New Providence. Captain Hornigold placed Teach in command of a sloop that he had captured and during this time he was given the name Blackbeard. Horngold and Blackbeard sailing out of New Providence engaged in numerous acts of piracy. Their numbers were boosted by the addition of other captured ships. Blackbeard captured a French slave ship known as La Concorde and renamed her Queen Anne's Revenge. He renamed it “Queen Anne's Revenge” referring to Anne, Queen of England and Scotland returning to the throne of Great Britain. He equipped his new acquisition with 40 guns, and a crew of over 300 men. Becoming a world renowned pirate, most people feared him. In a failed attempt to run a blockade in place and refusing the governors pardon, he ran “Queen Anne's Revenge” aground on a sandbar near Beaufort, North Carolina and settled in North Carolina where he then accepted a royal pardon. The wreck of “Queen Anne's Revenge” was found in 1996 by private salvagers, Intersal Inc., a salvage company based in Palm Bay, Florida Not knowing when enough, he returned to plundering at sea. Alexander Spotswood, the Governor of Virginia formed a garrison of soldiers and sailors to protect the colony and if possible capture Blackbeard. On November 22, 1718 following a ferocious battle, Blackbeard and several of his crew were killed by a small force of sailors led by Lieutenant Robert Maynard. After his death, Blackbeard became a martyr and an inspiration for a number of fictitious books.
Hank Bracker
Try a little experiment. Sit on the couch and tell yourself you deserve to do absolutely nothing for ten minutes. Put your feet up and exhale. Then listen as your home bursts into life like an animated movie. You’ll begin to hear demands from different tasks around your home. The gutters say clean me. The dishes say wash me. The closet says, Marie Kondo me. This rising chorus becomes louder until it yanks you up two-fisted by your collar and you begin to do. And that’s just the voices of the inanimate objects! When flesh-and-blood humans join in the cacophony of requests, you’ll be running in six directions before you realize it. You don’t believe in the basic permission to stop. I wish I had the power to grant this permission to you. If there was an incantation or potion that I could bequeath to you, I’d crawl on my knees to get it. The best I can do is tell you, “I, Juliet Funt, imperfect mother and businesswoman, give you permission to stop.
Juliet Funt (A Minute to Think: Reclaim Creativity, Conquer Busyness, and Do Your Best Work)
And for several years the public has been sending samples by the millions to personalized DNA testing companies like 23andMe, which only provide customers with their personal medical or genealogical information if they first sign a form granting permission for their samples to be stored for future research.
Rebecca Skloot (The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks)
all that had been needed was permission for everything to go to shit, and that permission had been granted.
Sophie Mackintosh (The Water Cure)
Yes, Lance?” “I would like permission to kiss you.” I walked up close to him. I looked into those big blue eyes. “Permission granted!
John Zakour (End Game (Girl Power #4))
The early years of a Bes (and presumably an Ul Qoman) child are intense learnings of cues. We pick up styles of clothing, permissible colours, ways of walking and holding oneself, very fast. Before we were eight or so most of us could be trusted not to breach embarrassingly and illegally, though licence of course is granted children every moment they are in the street. I was older than that when I looked up to see the bloody result of that breaching accident, and remember remembering those arcana, and that they were bullshit. In that moment when my mother and I and all of us there could not but see the Ul Qoman wreck, all that careful unseeing I had recently learned was thrown.
China Miéville (The City & the City)
It is characteristic of the person who is emotionally in health that he can ‘make do’ with fewer guarantees than can the emotionally disturbed person. . . . He does not need, therefore, what amounts to a guarantee that his truth is the truth or is all truth, or that his actions will inevitably be crowned with success. Since he experiences, by and large, an inner state of happiness and freedom, he can take it more or less for granted that he has somehow got hold of enough truth to go on for the time being — and that more is likely to come when he has gone far enough to need and find it.” —The Mind Alive One of the places that mature courage is most needed is in exercising the capacity to move forward on faith. The Overstreets argue that the mature mind is one that is comfortable acting on a “faith in life,” which they describe as the psychological “permission” that allows the emotionally healthy man “to go on from where he is,” “to go further into experience than he has ever yet gone,” “to go beyond the known into the not yet known, beyond the tried into the not yet tried.” Part of the kind of black and white thinking that marks the adolescent mind is the desire to possess absolute knowledge before committing to an idea or path. To have all the answers before moving forward or throwing one’s hat in the ring. The mature person has a higher tolerance for mystery and uncertainty; he doesn’t have to have everything figured out in order to take a step into the darkness. This ability to grapple with the unknown, the Overstreets argue, grows out of the mature individual’s substantial, varied experiences with diving deep into life.
Brett McKay (The 33 Marks of Maturity)
Civilization was achieved for gay couples in the United States when the Supreme Court ruled in favor of same-sex marriage in 2015. Overcivilization, however, is the LGBTQ community’s current quest for transgender rights, or, more accurately described, the demand that biological men who self-identify as women be granted legal permission to use ladies’ restrooms and dominate women’s sports competitions.
Candace Owens (Blackout: How Black America Can Make Its Second Escape from the Democrat Plantation)
I didn't understand how rapidly things had changed, how all that had been needed was permission for everything to go to shit, and that permission had been granted. I didn't know that there was no longer any need for the men to hold their bodies in check or to carry on the lie that we mattered.
Sophie Mackintosh (The Water Cure)
If you present information without permission, no one will listen to you.
Adam M. Grant (Think Again: The Power of Knowing What You Don't Know)
Any excuse that grants me permission to somehow compromise what I am capable of achieving is the ‘worst of me’ undermining the ‘best of me’ in a manner that will never be capable of ‘excusing me.
Craig D. Lounsbrough
In the second category, everyone oversteps the law; they are destroyers or they are that way inclined, in accordance with their abilities. The crimes committed by these people are, needless to say, relative and diverse; in the majority of cases they demand, in a great multitude of forms, the destruction of the present in the name of something better. But if such a man needs, for the sake of his idea, to step right over a corpse, over blood, then in my view he may, inside himself, as a matter of conscience, grant himself permission to step over this blood – though this depends, please note, on the idea and its magnitude.
Fyodor Dostoevsky (Crime and Punishment)
Visitors to Mason’s Yard in St. James’s will search in vain for Isherwood Fine Arts. They will, however, find the extraordinary Old Master gallery owned by my dear friend Patrick Matthiesen. A brilliant art historian blessed with an infallible eye, Patrick never would have allowed a misattributed work by Artemisia Gentileschi to languish in his storerooms for nearly a half century. The painting depicted in The Cellist does not exist. If it did, it would look a great deal like the one produced by Artemisia’s father, Orazio, that hangs in the National Gallery of Art in Washington. Like Julian Isherwood and his new managing partner, Sarah Bancroft, the inhabitants of my version of London’s art world are wholly fictitious, as are their sometimes-questionable antics. Their midsummer drinking session at Wiltons Restaurant would have been entirely permissible, as the landmark London eatery briefly reopened its doors before a rise in coronavirus infection rates compelled Prime Minister Boris Johnson to shut down all non-essential businesses. Wherever possible, I tried to adhere to prevailing conditions and government-mandated restrictions. But when necessary, I granted myself the license to tell my story without the crushing weight of the pandemic. I chose Switzerland as the primary setting for The Cellist because life there proceeded largely as normal until November 2020. That said, a private concert and reception at the Kunsthaus Zürich, even for a cause as worthy as democracy, likely could not have taken place in mid-October. I offer my profound apologies to the renowned Janine Jansen for the unflattering comparison to Anna Rolfe. Ms. Jansen is rightly regarded as one of her generation’s finest violinists, and Anna, of course, exists only in my imagination. She was introduced in the second Gabriel Allon novel, The English Assassin, along with Christopher Keller. Martin Landesmann, my committed if deeply flawed Swiss financier, made his debut in The Rembrandt Affair. The story of Gabriel’s blood-soaked duel with the Russian arms dealer Ivan Kharkov is told in Moscow Rules and its sequel, The Defector. Devotees of F. Scott Fitzgerald undoubtedly spotted the luminous line from The Great Gatsby that appears in chapter 32 of The Cellist. For the record, I am well aware that the headquarters of Israel’s secret intelligence service is no longer located on King Saul Boulevard in Tel Aviv. There is no safe house in the historic moshav of Nahalal—at least not one that I am aware of—and Gabriel and his family do not live on Narkiss Street in West Jerusalem. Occasionally, however, they can be spotted at Focaccia on Rabbi Akiva Street, one of my favorite restaurants in Jerusalem.
Daniel Silva (The Cellist (Gabriel Allon, #21))
Privilege increases the odds of having things your own way, of being able to set the agenda in a social situation and determine the rules and standards and how they're applied. Privilege grants the cultural authority to make judgments about others and to have those judgments stick. It allows people to define reality and to have prevailing definitions of reality fit their experience. Privilege means being able to decide who gets taken seriously, who receives attention, who is accountable to whom and for what. And it grants a presumption of superiority and social permission to act on that presumption without having to worry about being challenged.
Allan G. Johnson (Privilege, Power, and Difference)
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IT Simpli
It is understood that when the Israelis wanted refuelling permission for the aircraft they were going to use to attack the Kahuta nuclear facility, Morarji refused to grant this permission.
Prabhu Dayal (Karachi Halwa)
When we keep steadily before our eyes the mental condition of the eleven at the time of Christ's resurrection, we see the transparent falsehood and absurdity of the theft theory invented by the Jewish priests. The disciples, according to this theory, came by night, while the guards were asleep, and stole the dead body of Jesus, that they might be able to circulate the belief that He was risen again. Matthew tells that even before the resurrection the murderers of our Lord were afraid this might be done; and then, to prevent any fraud of this kind, they applied to Pilate to have a guard put upon the grave, who accordingly contemptuously granted them permission to take what steps they pleased to prevent all resurrectionary proceedings on the part either of the dead or of the living, scornfully replying, "Ye have a watch: go your way, make it as sure as ye can." This accordingly they did, sealing the stone and setting a watch. Alas! their precautions prevented neither the resurrection nor belief in it, but only supplied an illustration of the folly of those who attempt to manage providence, and to control the course of the world's history.
Alexander Balmain Bruce (The Training of the Twelve: How Jesus Christ Found and Taught the 12 Apostles; A Book of New Testament Biography)
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of
Erin Hunter (Warriors: The Broken Code #4: Darkness Within)
rights are guaranteed. Not open for discussion. Not to be abridged, abused, or abrogated by any man or any government. A privilege—well, now that’s just permission, to be granted or denied as the masters please. We can vote, but for the candidates they select. We can speak freely, but anyone who
Derek P. Gilbert (The God Conspiracy)
Gradually he covered his chiseled self, sitting in the armchair at last to pull on his boots. When that was done he came to the bedside and sank all the way down on his knees. His arms folded atop the mattress. His chin sank onto his arms. He looked at her, wordlessly. His eyes wore the raw marks of too little sleep. His hair bent in odd directions. He needed to shave. Her hand, without awaiting her permission, strayed from the mattress and settled against his cheek, to know what that texture was like. He turned his head and pressed his lips into her palm. Soft, unutterably soft, his kiss, where her skin tingled from the coarse touch of his tiny beard-bristles. Eyes closed, he stayed just so for several seconds, as though breathing in her hand’s particular scent.
Cecilia Grant (A Lady Awakened (Blackshear Family, #1))
If you were raised in an environment where emotion was minimized, seen as weakness, invalidated, shut down, perceived as wasteful (e.g., crying won’t help), or even punished, then giving yourself permission to feel, recognize, and explore may be a bigger challenge. You might be the first person in your life to grant yourself the permission you need to experience emotion. If you’re worried that giving permission to experience and engage with emotion will turn you into something you’re not or someone you don’t want to become—it won’t. It will, however, give you the opportunity to be your most authentic self. We are wired to be emotional beings. When that part of us is shut down, we’re not whole.
Brené Brown (Rising Strong: The Reckoning. The Rumble. The Revolution.)
novels [4]. It follows that authentic text—text written for native speakers—is inappropriate for unassisted ER by all but the most advanced learners. For this reason, many educators advocate the use of learner literature, that is, stories written specifically for L2 learners, or adapted from authentic text [5]. For learners of English, there are over 40 graded reader series, consisting of over 1650 books with a variety of difficulty levels and genres [6].However, the time and expense in producing graded readers results in high purchase costs and limited availability in languages other than English and common L2‘s like Spanish and French. At a cost of £2.50 for a short English reader in 2001 [7] purchasing several thousand readers to cater for a school wide ER program requires a significant monetary investment. More affordable options are required, especially for schools in developing nations. Day and Bamford [8] recommend several alternatives when learner literature is not available. These include children's and young adult books, stories written by learners, newspapers, magazines and comic books. Some educators advocate the use of authentic texts in preference to simplified texts. Berardo [9] claims that the language in learner literature is ―artificial and unvaried‖, ―unlike anything that the learner will encounter in the real world‖ and often ―do not reflect how the language is really used‖. Berardo does concede that simplified texts are ―useful for preparing learners for reading 'real' texts. ‖ 2. ASSISTED READING Due to the large proportion of unknown vocabulary, beginner and intermediate learners require assistance when using authentic text for ER. Two popular forms of assistance are dictionaries and glossing. There are pros and cons of each approach. 1 A group of words that share the same root word, e.g. , run, ran, runner, runs, running. Permission to make digital or hard copies of all or part of this work for personal or classroom use is granted without fee provided that copies are not made or distributed for profit or commercial advantage and that copies bear this notice and the full citation on the first page. To copy otherwise, or republish, to post on servers or to redistribute to lists, requires prior specific permission and/or a fee.NZCSRSC’11, April 18-21, 2011, Palmerston North, New Zealand
Anonymous
Then comes the investment. Newcomers are instructed to connect the app to their calendar service, granting Any.do access to the user’s schedule. In doing so, users give the app permission to send a notification after the next scheduled meeting ends. This external trigger prompts users to return to the app to record a follow-up task from the meeting they just attended. In the Any.do scenario, the app sends an external trigger to users at the moment when they are most likely to experience the internal trigger of anxiety about forgetting to do a task after a meeting. The Any.do app has anticipated a need and sets users up for success.
Nir Eyal (Hooked: How to Build Habit-Forming Products)
You’re right, I’m a killer. I’ve killed thousands, and very few of them have ever stained my conscience. I can go to a dark place and do whatever I need to. But for those I care about, those I love, I will move fucking mountains to keep them safe. And I care about Tommy and Kasey, whether you grant permission or not.
Steve McHugh (Born of Hatred (Hellequin Chronicles, #2))
When you streamline your schedule by making deliberate decisions about tasks and activities that are crucially important you and identify your most important priorities, you give yourself permission to make choices that excite and interest you. You also grant yourself permission to exercise your right to say, “No, thank you.
Julie Connor (Dreams to Action Trailblazer's Guide)
The way people treat you, is based on the permission that you grant them, in your relationships.
Eddie M. Connor Jr. (Heal Your Heart: Discover How To Live, Love, And Heal From Broken Relationships)
Father, a day upon the throne would be like a day of sitting on a bed of hot coals for me. If my heart has no peace, how can I fulfil your or the people’s trust in me? I have seen how quickly time passes, and I know my youth is no different. Please grant me your permission.
Thich Nhat Hanh (Old Path White Clouds: Walking in the Footsteps of the Buddha)
The early years of a Bes (and presumably an Ul Qoman) child are intense learnings of cues. We pick up styles of clothing, permissible colours, ways of walking and holding oneself, very fast. Before we were eight or so most of us could be trusted not to breach embarrassingly and illegally, though licence of course is granted children every moment they are in the street.
China Miéville (The City & the City)
Simply getting time off required an incredible level of accountability. If I ever wanted time off—if, for example, my mom was visiting Int—then I had to request it in a formatted proposal that required me to find replacements for each of my various responsibilities. We would only be granted permission if the requests were every other week, if our statistics were up, and if we were not in Lower Conditions. If all those things were in order, then my proposal would have to be approved by no fewer than four people. The list of duties and procedures went on endlessly, and the result of all this process, paperwork, and regulation was that there were no children at the Ranch—only little adults.
Jenna Miscavige Hill (Beyond Belief: My Secret Life Inside Scientology and My Harrowing Escape)
Her name was Jane,” I said, and Olivia stopped walking. “We were together for two years, married after a few months. I was happy, genuinely happy. Even though she was human, and I knew I’d outlive her, I just wanted to enjoy the time that we had together. “It all ended on a damp November morning in seventeen eighty-two. I’d been away working for Avalon for a few months and had been eager to get home. I found her inside the house we’d shared. She’d been butchered. Her blood decorated our bedroom. She was naked and appeared to have been dead for several days. My rage was…terrifying. I buried Jane with my own hands, placing her near a field that we used to love going to. And then I burnt the house to the ground.” Olivia’s shoulders sagged, but she didn’t turn and face me. “I hunted her killer for a year. I didn’t care who I hurt to get the information I needed. I was so single-minded, so determined to have vengeance. Eventually, I discovered that her murderer had been part of the king’s army, which had been going through the area. “The killer was an officer by the name of Henry. No idea what his last name was. It didn’t matter. He liked hurting women, and once he’d finished with them, he kept their hair as a souvenir. The rest of his squad had waited outside while he brutalized and murdered the woman I loved. No one had helped Jane, and no one had tried to stop him. “I discovered that they’d been on training maneuvers the day of the murder, just their squad of thirty. And after all my searching, I found them and I killed them. They died in one night of blood and rage. All but one. I left Henry until last. I took him away to a secluded place and had my fill of vengeance. It took a week for him to die, and when he finally succumbed, I buried Hellequin with him.” The memory of Henry’s blind and bloody form flashed in my mind—his pleas had long since silenced because I’d removed his tongue. I hadn’t wanted information from him; I’d just wanted to make him suffer. Before he’d lost his ability to talk, he’d told me that someone had paid him to do it, but he never said who. No matter what I did to him, he took that secret to his grave. And after a few years of searching, I decided he’d been lying. Trying to prolong his life for a short time more, hoping for mercy where there was none to give. “I no longer had the desire to go by that name,” I continued, still talking to Olivia’s back, “I no longer wanted to instill fear with a word. I hoped that the legend would die, but it didn’t, it grew, became more…fanciful. “You’re right, I’m a killer. I’ve killed thousands, and very few of them have ever stained my conscience. I can go to a dark place and do whatever I need to. But for those I care about, those I love, I will move fucking mountains to keep them safe. And I care about Tommy and Kasey, whether you grant permission or not.
Steve McHugh (Born of Hatred (Hellequin Chronicles, #2))
[The Verdict on Hanging Qur'an Verses on the Wall]: Praise be to Allah Alone, and prayers and peace be upon the last Prophet Muhammad. The Holy Qur'an has been revealed to be a proof against the mankind and the jinns. It is a constitution and a system to be followed by all Muslims. They should act according to its permissible rulings and avoid the acts it prohibited. They should believe in its verses that are not entirely clear in themselves but are explained and manifested in the light of the clear-cut verses, learn it by heart, and write it down in Mushafs, pieces of cloth, and the like, so that it can be recited and arbitrated to when needed. This is what the earlier Muslims understood and acted accordingly. As to the nowadays phenomena of writing down some decorated verses of the Holy Qur'an on a placard or a piece of cloth, and hanging them in rooms, cars, and the like, it does not conform with the acts of the salaf. Priding in committing such acts is the preoccupation of those who let aside the original purposes for which the Holy Qur'an has been revealed. It is rather better for the Muslim to abandon such acts and keep away from buying or selling such placards or pieces of cloth, even though they are originally permissible. If they are widely used, people will turn away from the original purpose for which the Holy Qur'an has been revealed. May Allah grant us prosperity. Peace and prayers be upon our Prophet Muhammad.
Permanent Committee for Scholarly Research and Ifta, KSA
Betrayal is an important word with this guidepost. When we value being cool and in control over granting ourselves the freedom to unleash the passionate, goofy, heartfelt, and soulful expressions of who we are, we betray ourselves. When we consistently betray ourselves, we can expect to do the same to the people we love. When we don’t give ourselves permission to be free, we rarely tolerate that freedom in others. We put them down, make fun of them, ridicule their behaviors, and sometimes shame them. We can do this intentionally or unconsciously. Either way the message is, “Geez, man. Don’t be so uncool.
Brené Brown (The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are)
Prayer is the connection that opens the door for all of God’s blessings to be manifested in our lives. It is the process of granting permission for Heaven to show up with the finished works of Jesus.
Paul Silway
The irony was not lost on her that, because she was Stalin’s daughter—“state property,” as she bitterly called herself—she had been refused permission to accompany Singh to India while he was alive but had been granted a visa to carry his ashes back to his country after he was dead.
Rosemary Sullivan (Stalin's Daughter: The Extraordinary and Tumultuous Life of Svetlana Alliluyeva)
Over the last generation, journalism has slowly been swallowed. The ascendant media companies of our era don’t think of themselves as heirs to a great ink-stained tradition. Some prefer to call themselves technology firms. This redefinition isn’t just a bit of fashionable branding. Silicon Valley has infiltrated the profession, from both within and without. Over the past decade, journalism has come to depend unhealthily on Facebook and Google. The big tech companies supply journalism with an enormous percentage of its audience—and therefore a big chunk of revenue. This gives Silicon Valley influence over the entire profession, and it has made the most of its power. Dependence generates desperation—a mad, shameless chase to gain clicks through Facebook, a relentless effort to game Google’s algorithms. It leads media to ink terrible deals, which look like self-preserving necessities, but really just allow Facebook and Google to hold them even tighter. Media will grant Facebook the right to sell advertising or give Google permission to publish articles directly on its fast-loading server. What makes these deals so terrible is the capriciousness of the tech companies. They like to shift quickly in a radically different direction, which is great for their bottom line, but terrible for all the media companies dependent on the platforms. Facebook will decide that its users prefer video to words, or that its users prefer ideologically pleasing propaganda to hard news. When Facebook shifts direction like this or when Google tweaks its algorithm, they instantly crash Web traffic flowing to media, with all the rippling revenue ramifications that follow. Media know they should flee the grasp of Facebook, but dependence also breeds cowardice. The prisoner lies on the cot dreaming of escape plans that will never hatch. Dependence on the big tech companies is increasingly the plight of the worker and the entrepreneur. Drivers maintain erratic patterns of sleep because of Uber’s shifting whims. Companies that manufacture tchotchkes sold on Amazon watch their businesses collapse when Amazon’s algorithms detect the profitability of their item, leading the giant to manufacture the goods itself at a lower price. The problem isn’t just financial vulnerability. It’s the way in which the tech companies dictate the patterns of work, the way in which their influence can shift the ethos of an entire profession to suit their needs—lowering standards of quality, eroding ethical protections. I saw this up close during my time at the New Republic. I watched how dependence on the tech companies undermined the very integrity of journalism. At the very beginning of that chapter in my career, I never imagined that we would go down that path.
Franklin Foer (World Without Mind: The Existential Threat of Big Tech)
No special privilege has been granted to Marxist historiography as such. Despite the changes of recent decades, the great bulk of serious historical work in the 20th century has been written by historians foreign to Marxism. Historical materialism is not a finished science; nor have all its practitioners been of a similar calibre. There are fields of historiography which are dominated by Marxist research; there are more, in which non-Marxist contributions are superior in quality and quantity to Marxist; and there are perhaps even more, where no Marxist interventions exist at all. The only permissible criterion of discrimination, in a comparative survey which must consider works coming from such different horizons, is their intrinsic solidity and intelligence. Maximum awareness and respect for the scholarship of historians outside the boundaries of Marxism is not incompatible with rigorous pursuit of a Marxist historical enquiry: it is a condition of it. Conversely, Marx and Engels themselves can never be taken simply at their word: the errors of their writings on the past should not be evaded or ignored, but identified and criticized. To do so is not to depart from historical materialism, but to rejoin it. There is no place for any fideism in rational knowledge, which is necessarily cumulative; and the greatness of the founders of new sciences has never been proof against misjudgments or myths, any more than it has been impaired by them. To take ‘liberties’ with the signature of Marx is in this sense merely to enter into the freedom of Marxism.
Perry Anderson (Passages From Antiquity to Feudalism (Verso World History Series))
Everything is permissible to him who is able to do everything. He who serves an All-powerful Being can do all in and through him. Force sets one free form the pair of opposites Good-Evil.11
Bradley Jersak (Red Tory, Red Virgin: Essays on Simone Weil and George P. Grant)
friend and adviser from youth. By adoption he is your father. Tell him he is welcome to come to my home at any time." It was of no use to explain any more, for the old man had determined not to understand my relation to Dr. Greenwood except in accordance with Indian customs, and I let the matter drop. In the latter part of that summer I asked the old chief to allow me to publish some of the things he had told me, but he objected, saying, however, that if I would pay him, and if the officers in charge did not object, he would tell me the whole story of his life. I immediately called at the fort (Fort Sill) and asked the officer in charge, Lieutenant Purington, for permission to write the life of Geronimo. I was promptly informed that the privilege would not be granted. Lieutenant Purington explained to me the many depredations committed by Geronimo and his warriors, and the enormous cost of subduing the Apaches, adding that the old Apache deserved to be hanged rather than spoiled by so much attention from civilians. A suggestion from me that our government had paid many soldiers and officers to go to Arizona and kill Geronimo and the Apaches, and that they did not seem to know how to do it, did not prove very gratifying to the pride of the regular army officer, and I decided to seek elsewhere for permission. Accordingly I wrote to President Roosevelt that here was an old Indian who had
Geronimo (Geronimo's Story of His Life)
God didn’t even permit the eating of meat back in the Garden of Eden—not even for the animals. Instead, He gave them every green plant for food. It wasn’t until Noah that he granted people that permission.
Christy Barritt (Pounced (The Sierra Files #1))
This was what Dennis had been doing lately: granting everyone permission to feel the way they were going to feel regardless. It was the books. Dennis’s relationship to his own feelings had become tender, curatorial. Dismantling. Entomological. Mave couldn’t be like that. She treated her emotional life the way she treated her car: She let it go, let it tough it out. To friends she said things like “I know you’re thinking this looks like a ’79, but it’s really an ’87.” She finally didn’t care to understand all that much about her emotional life; she just went ahead and did it. The point, she thought, was to attend the meager theater of it, quietly, and not stand up in the middle and shout, “Oh, my God, you can see the crew backstage!” There was a point at which the study of something became a frightening and naive thing.
Lorrie Moore
But Friedrich’s departure ran afoul of German law. A three-year stint of military service was mandatory, and to emigrate, boys of conscription age had to get permission. The young barber didn’t do so, resulting in a questionable status that would undermine any future prospect of return: Friedrich Trump was an illegal emigrant. Luckily, US officials didn’t care about the circumstances under which he left Germany. US immigration law at the time granted Germans preferred status; they were viewed as having the proper white European ethnic stock and an industrious nature.
Michael Kranish (Trump Revealed: An American Journey of Ambition, Ego, Money, and Power)
What’s going on?  What news?” I said glancing between the two. Sam gave Clay a sharp look. “You didn’t tell her?” “He’s not talking to me, yet,” I said, wondering what bad news Sam had to share. Sam shook his head at Clay.  “You’ve dug your own hole then, son.”  He focused on me.  “A group of Forlorn have asked Elder Joshua to approach you for an unofficial kind of Introduction.  Joshua approved, but he made it clear they were to keep it brief and then leave, unless any of them had a further request of him.” The meaning of Sam’s words sunk in deep like a vicious bite.  It also explained his less than warm greeting.  He stood in my living room as an Elder on pack business, not as family or a friend.  I struggled to contain my anger. “I thought I was done with that.  We had a deal.”  I crossed my arms and coldly regarded Sam.  “I know I said I was done.” The carefully, composed expression on Sam’s face faltered a bit.  “Honey, there are rules we must follow to keep peace in the pack.  Clay had six months to convince you of his suit.  That time has passed.  That means unMated can once again approach you, with permission.” My mouth popped open.  Six months.  Permission from an Elder.  That’s why they’d stationed Joshua here.  A backup plan because they knew I didn’t want to Claim Clay.  They failed to understand I didn’t want to Claim anyone.  I’d never been free.  I clenched my fists.  My temper boiled. “That’s complete crap,” I gritted out.  “First of all, I didn’t reject anyone.  Second, no one ever told me about this stupid rule.”  My voice rose to a yell, and I took a deep breath and closed my eyes briefly to restrain myself.  When I reopened them, I felt more in control and able to speak calmly.  “You know what?  I don’t care what the pack rules are.  I gave you my word and my time.  Now, I expect you to keep yours.  I worked hard to get here, Sam.  I won’t let anyone take this away from me.”  My hands shook.  That Sam had cared for me in the past and given me a place to call home for two years, kept my tongue marginally civil. “By not completing the Claim, you’ve become eligible again.  Charlene was granted a special consideration because, at that time, we weren’t even sure a Claiming would be possible between a human and a werewolf.  Now that we know it is, you fall under the same rules,” Sam explained calmly, his face again carefully devoid of emotion. “No, I don’t.”  I knew I could stand there and argue all day with Sam, and he wouldn’t budge.  It would always be whatever’s best for the pack with him.  “Is this why Clay was beat up?” Clay made a noise—like a snort of disagreement—behind me. “Feel free to jump in at any time,” I said, turning to arch an eyebrow at him.  He remained mute, but his eyes softened when he looked at me. Sam spoke up from behind me, but I didn’t turn to look at him. “Gabby, it’s the reason he’s been fighting.  He’s not relinquishing his tie to you.  Every time an unMated shows up here, he will challenge that man for his right for an Introduction.  Did Clay get beat up?  Only as a byproduct of handing out beatings.” Clay steadily met my gaze the entire time.  It broke my heart a little to know he was fighting so hard to keep me, and all I’d given him in those six months was a kiss.  Not even spontaneously given, but relinquished as part of a bribe.  I hadn’t rejected him.  I just didn’t want to be forced into a choice.  If I chose to be with Clay, I wanted it to be on our terms. “Why
Melissa Haag (Hope(less) (Judgement of the Six #1))
The Hall of Presidents is host to the Great Seal of the United States, which is used with permission granted by an Act of Congress. Out of respect for this symbol, the seal must never be walked upon. Its placement on the floor of the Hall of Presidents makes this nearly impossible to avoid, so a fence was placed around it. However, there are parents who simply lift their children over the fence for a “priceless” photo. Take your photo of this great icon, but don’t be that person! It’s the real deal, deserving of respect.
Susan Veness (The Hidden Magic of Walt Disney World Trivia: A Ride-by-Ride Exploration of the History, Facts, and Secrets Behind the Magic Kingdom, Epcot, Disney's Hollywood Studios, and Disney's Animal Kingdom)
A third assumption: a commitment to monogamy is an admirable consequence of love, stemming from a deep-seated generosity and an intimate interest in the other’s flourishing and well-being. A call for monogamy is a sure indication that one partner has the other’s best interests at heart. To Rabih’s new way of thinking, it seems anything but kind or considerate to insist that a spouse return to his room alone to watch CNN and eat yet another club sandwich while perched on the edge of his bed, when he has perhaps only a few more decades of life left on the planet, an increasingly dishevelled physique, an at best intermittent track record with the opposite sex, and a young woman from California standing before him who sincerely wishes to remove her dress in his honour. If love is to be defined as a genuine concern for the well-being of another person, then it must surely be deemed compatible with granting permission for an often harassed and rather browbeaten husband to step off the elevator on the eighteenth floor, in order to enjoy ten minutes of rejuvenating cunnilingus with a near-stranger. Otherwise it may seem that what we are dealing with is not really love at all but rather a kind of small-minded and hypocritical possessiveness, a desire to make one’s partner happy if, but only if, that happiness involves oneself. It’s past midnight already, yet Rabih is just hitting his stride, knowing there might be objections but sidestepping them nimbly and, in the process, acquiring an ever more brittle sense of self-righteousness. A fourth assumption: monogamy is the natural state of love. A sane person can only ever want to love one other person. Monogamy is the bellwether of emotional health. Is there not, wonders Rabih, an infantile idealism in our wish to find everything in one other being – someone who will be simultaneously a best friend, a lover, a co-parent, a co-chauffeur and a business partner? What a recipe for disappointment and resentment in this notion, upon which millions of otherwise perfectly good marriages regularly founder. What could be more natural than to feel an occasional desire for another person? How can anyone be expected to grow up in hedonistic, liberated circles, experience the sweat and excitement of nightclubs and summer parks, listen to music full of longing and lust and then, immediately upon signing a piece of paper, renounce all outside sexual interest, not in the name of any particular god or higher commandment but merely from an unexplored supposition that it must be very wrong? Is there not instead something inhuman, indeed ‘wrong’, in failing to be tempted, in failing to realize just how short of time we all are and therefore with what urgent curiosity we should want to explore the unique fleshly individuality of more than one of our contemporaries? To moralize against adultery is to deny the legitimacy of a range of sensory high points – Rabih thinks of Lauren’s shoulder blades – in their own way just as worthy of reverence as more acceptable attractions such as the last moments of ‘Hey Jude’ or the ceilings of the Alhambra Palace. Isn’t the rejection of adulterous possibilities tantamount to an infidelity towards the richness of life itself? To turn the equation on its head: would it be rational to trust anyone who wasn’t, under certain circumstances, really pretty interested in being unfaithful?
Alain de Botton (The Course of Love)
Then, between two sheets of paper, they discovered a third, left there by accident. Clearly written at the top were the words, 'Copy and circulate'. It was the front page of Résistance, mercifully unfinished. Ordered to explain it, I admitted with a suitable degree of reluctance that it was a copy of a tract exhorting the French people to hoard all their nickel coins. I said I had abandoned the project as I was such a bad typist, but that I had made five copies that I had left on seats in the Métro. All in all, it was a plausible story that would only cost me two or three months in prison. I chuckled inwardly as I thought about the Résistance file, with its four hundred names and addresses, lying quietly hidden — together with copies of all the tracts we had published since September 1940 — under the stair carpet between floors. After asking my permission with great ceremony, my gentleman visitors used my telephone to report back to their chief on the success of their mission. Then they hung up, and invited me to leave with them. It was at this point that I remembered the Roosevelt speech that Léo had given me two days before, which was still in my handbag! I asked permission to go to the toilet, which they granted, though not without first snatching my bag from me and ordering me not to shut the door.
Agnès Humbert (Resistance: A French Woman's Journal of the War)
If love is to be defined as a genuine concern for the well-being of another person, then it must surely be deemed compatible with granting permission for an often harassed and rather browbeaten husband to step off the elevator on the eighteenth floor in order to enjoy ten minutes of rejuvenating cunnilingus with a near stranger. Otherwise it may seem that what we are dealing with is not really love at all but rather a kind of small-minded and hypocritical possessiveness, a desire to make one’s partner happy if, but only if, that happiness involves oneself.
Alain de Botton (The Course of Love)
the Omani ruler Seyyid Said had moved his capital from Oman to Zanzibar in 1832. He brought with him South Asian traders from the Persian Gulf to run his commercial and financial affairs. He encouraged them through a variety of incentives including guarantees of religious tolerance, a minimum of five per cent duty on imports and removal of restrictions on South Asian land ownership. The earlier policy in Zanzibar of treating South Asians as foreign traders was reversed and they were granted equal privileges with Arab traders, including permission to trade
Gijsbert Oonk (Settled Strangers: Asian Business Elites in East Africa (1800-2000) (History and Museum Studies))
the manufacturing companies keep asking the DEA for permission to make more pills, and the DEA keeps granting it.
John Temple (American Pain: How a Young Felon and His Ring of Doctors Unleashed America's Deadliest Drug Epidemic)
Allowance grants us the permission to be perfect in our imperfection.
Jaime Bartolotta (Rocks Don't Cry)
Though I had fallen in love with Narian a long time ago, I was continually learning more about him. I’d always been familiar with his principles and his personality, but it was the little things that made a human being. Little things like how he was not accustomed to sharing his space--had I not been forced to hide in his bedroom during his exchange with the High Priestess, I would not yet have seen it. There were other things, as well. He was nearly fluent in three languages in addition to our own; he absolutely could not sleep on his back; and he didn’t know how to handle being irritated with me. Had I lied for Shaselle? Yes. But he would have a difficult time confronting me about it. He never hesitated in handling issues with other people, but with me, he seemed to try his hardest to convince himself that there was nothing to handle. It was late afternoon before he finally raised the matter. After holding audiences in the Hearing Hall, I had entered my office and was about ready to retire when there was a knock on the door. I knew it would be Narian, and that his countenance would be inscrutable. Indeed, when I granted him permission to enter, he was closed off, exactly as I hated him to be. “I thought you would meet me in my quarters,” I said, attempting to keep things light. “I will. But I need to talk to you first.” It was plain from the tone of his voice that he wasn’t about to mix business with pleasure. “Of course.” I rose from my desk chair, straightening a few papers and avoiding eye contact with him, though I wasn’t sure of the reason. “The knife I took from Shaselle didn’t belong to Baelic.” “Oh?” I looked up to meet his disconcerting eyes. If he wouldn’t let me in, I wouldn’t let him in. “Alera, it was Sarteradan. You lied for her. Why?” “And what of Steldor’s dagger?” I asked, ignoring his inquiry. “Hytanican. No doubt he managed to keep one of his own from my troops.” “What were you and he arguing about?” “That’s of no importance. But you needn’t worry--I’m not going to arrest him.” He scrutinized me, and I squirmed like a bug under a magnifying glass. “What is important, Alera, is the question you’re trying to avoid--why did you lie for Shaselle?
Cayla Kluver (Sacrifice (Legacy, #3))
As Americans were debating bailouts, individual mandates, and Michelle Obama’s finely toned arms, progressives knew they had a golden opportunity to sneak Common Core through the back door. And that’s just what they did. Remember what Rahm Emanuel, Obama’s first chief of staff, said: “You never want a serious crisis to go to waste.” Common Core was that political philosophy in action. The controllists’ plan was almost perfect. They knew they didn’t have to sell Common Core to lawmakers in individual state legislatures, where citizens would find out about it and demand it be stopped. Instead, they could just go to the individual state boards of education—entities that most Americans don’t even know exist—for permission. In Wisconsin, for example, all it took was one individual, the state superintendent of public instruction, to adopt the standards. It was a devious and brilliant plan, but that didn’t make it foolproof. It wasn’t a given that state school board members would agree to Common Core. Some might sense that it was a ploy to slowly nationalize their state’s education system. To counter that possibility, progressives wrote special funding for the Common Core “initiative” into President Obama’s nearly $800 billion stimulus plan via the “Race to the Top” program. This gave the administration the ability to bribe cash-starved states into adopting Common Core by making it a prerequisite for states to compete for seven-figure education grants. In addition, they delayed the testing component of the standards for several years, thereby giving state bureaucrats several years of zero accountability. Many of these bureaucrats no doubt knew they’d be retired or in a different position by the time the real pain came around.
Glenn Beck (Conform: Exposing the Truth About Common Core and Public Education)
Let us remember this sad but sure truth: the only permission ever granted by society is permission to follow its norms and traditions.
Brendon Burchard (The Motivation Manifesto)
Tensions also arose with the local landlord, a Polish noble who demanded that Mennonite settlers on his lands perform the same scutage services provided by Polish settlers. For Mennonites, who had come as free persons and not as serfs, this seemed a novel and extraordinary request. A number of them began to look for better opportunities elsewhere.41 In 1764, delegates from Jeziorka went to Berlin to explore settlement pos- sibilities.42 Such a move would mean leaving Polish jurisdiction and moving to lands ruled by Frederick II. One of the king's officials, Franz Balthasar Schonberg von Brenkenhoff, was charged with bringing new settlers to the Netze (Noted) River region, near Driesen in Brandenburg, some 130 miles west of Toruri.43 When he invited Mennonites to settle there, they accepted. In 1764, twenty-eight Mennonite families received settlement rights, with specified privileges. They were granted religious freedom, exemption from military service and the swearing of oaths, and each received forty morgen of land. Later they also received permission to establish and maintain their own schools. In the spring of 1765, thirty-five families arrived at their new home; the twenty-eight from Jeziorka had been joined by others from Przechowka and Sch6nsee.44 Several treks eventually brought some 166 Mennonites to the area.45
Peter J. Klassen (Mennonites in Early Modern Poland and Prussia (Young Center Books in Anabaptist and Pietist Studies))
Weil regarded 'the willing God" as a self-justifying conception of totalitarian societies. The codeword she uses for social idolatry is 'the Great Beast,' described by Plato in The Republic Book VI and picked up in John's Apocalypse. She names it wherever she sees it, from ancient Israel and Rome to modern Marxism and America. She believed that Israel (the religious beast) and Rome (the materialist beast) corrupted Christianity with the spirit of the Beast when it was adopted as the official state religion. Thus, the (Catholic) Church came to worship the Beast as an 'ersatz form of God' and so became the totalitarian Beast herself. Through the doctrine of providence, the Church would purport to be a history-maker in the name of this (false) God. The serve of the false God (of the Social Beast in whatever form it may be) purifies evil by eliminating the horror of it. Nothing seems…evil to him who serves the false God, except lapses in the performance of his service. …Whilst one has a horror of this evil, at the same time one loves it as emanating from the will of God. …Everything is permissible to him who is able to do everything. He who serves an All-powerful Being can do all in and through him. Force sets one free from the pair of opposites Good-Evil. (p. 37)
Bradley Jersak (Red Tory, Red Virgin: Essays on Simone Weil and George P. Grant)
His name is C. J. Skender, and he is a living legend. Skender teaches accounting, but to call him an accounting professor doesn’t do him justice. He’s a unique character, known for his trademark bow ties and his ability to recite the words to thousands of songs and movies on command. He may well be the only fifty-eight-year-old man with fair skin and white hair who displays a poster of the rapper 50 Cent in his office. And while he’s a genuine numbers whiz, his impact in the classroom is impossible to quantify. Skender is one of a few professors for whom Duke University and the University of North Carolina look past their rivalry to cooperate: he is in such high demand that he has permission to teach simultaneously at both schools. He has earned more than two dozen major teaching awards, including fourteen at UNC, six at Duke, and five at North Carolina State. Across his career, he has now taught close to six hundred classes and evaluated more than thirty-five thousand students. Because of the time that he invests in his students, he has developed what may be his single most impressive skill: a remarkable eye for talent. In 2004, Reggie Love enrolled in C. J. Skender’s accounting class at Duke. It was a summer course that Love needed to graduate, and while many professors would have written him off as a jock, Skender recognized Love’s potential beyond athletics. “For some reason, Duke football players have never flocked to my class,” Skender explains, “but I knew Reggie had what it took to succeed.” Skender went out of his way to engage Love in class, and his intuition was right that it would pay dividends. “I knew nothing about accounting before I took C. J.’s class,” Love says, “and the fundamental base of knowledge from that course helped guide me down the road to the White House.” In Obama’s mailroom, Love used the knowledge of inventory that he learned in Skender’s class to develop a more efficient process for organizing and digitizing a huge backlog of mail. “It was the number-one thing I implemented,” Love says, and it impressed Obama’s chief of staff, putting Love on the radar. In 2011, Love left the White House to study at Wharton. He sent a note to Skender: “I’m on the train to Philly to start the executive MBA program and one of the first classes is financial accounting—and I just wanted to say thanks for sticking with me when I was in your class.
Adam M. Grant (Give and Take: A Revolutionary Approach to Success)
When some members of the Ford team (including the former president and Betty) left the White House for California the next day, it was said that everyone onboard a backup plane (Carter did not grant permission for them to use Air Force One) refused to eat the peanuts from an offering of mixed nuts—and then, in a fit of political pique (reinforced, perhaps by semi-serious hangovers or still slightly inebriated embers of the previous night’s ceremonial drowning of sorrows), purposely tossed the peanuts around the aircraft.
Mark Will-Weber (Mint Juleps with Teddy Roosevelt: The Complete History of Presidential Drinking)
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Blake J. Harris (Console Wars: Sega, Nintendo, and the Battle that Defined a Generation)
Judge and the School Teacher The school teacher was late for school and was driving too fast.  The light ahead turned yellow, she thought she could make it and raced forward.   It turned red just before she entered the intersection. Unfortunately, a policeman saw her run through the red light and he wrote her a ticket. The school teacher hadn’t had a ticket in a long time.  She thought she would ask the judge if she could go to traffic school and keep the ticket off her record. “I have a good driving record; I am a school teacher and I would like to request that I be granted permission to go to traffic school,” she asked the judge. “So you are a school teacher,” the judge said with a smile.  “I have been waiting for this for years.” “I will allow you to go to traffic school if you write 500 times—I ran a red light and I promise to never do it again.
Peter Jenkins (Funny Jokes for Adults: All Clean Jokes, Funny Jokes that are Perfect to Share with Family and Friends, Great for Any Occasion)
So to anyone out there still wondering, here’s your permission slip: you do not have to be like Steve. When Isaacson, his biographer, was asked by a 60 Minutes interviewer about Jobs’s failings, he replied, “He could have been kinder.” Grant adds, “How do we know he succeeded because of his asshole behaviors … and not in spite of them?” Indeed, a more recent biography of Jobs, by Brent Schlender and Rick Tetzeli, argues that Jobs matured during his time away from Apple, and was much more modulated in his behavior—giving credit when appropriate, dispensing praise when warranted, ripping someone a new one when necessary—during the second (and more successful) half of his career. Without that kind of modulation—without getting a little outside our comfort zone, at least some of the time—we’re all probably less likely to reach our goals, whether we’re prickly or pleasant by disposition. As Grant himself puts it, “What I’ve become convinced of is that nice guys and gals really do finish last.” He believes that the most effective people
Anonymous
Generally the officers of the army were indifferent whether the annexation was consummated or not; but not so all of them. For myself, I was bitterly opposed to the measure, and to this day regard the war, which resulted, as one of the most unjust ever waged by a stronger against a weaker nation. It was an instance of a republic following the bad example of European monarchies, in not considering justice in their desire to acquire additional territory. Texas was originally a state belonging to the republic of Mexico. It extended from the Sabine River on the east to the Rio Grande on the west, and from the Gulf of Mexico on the south and east to the territory of the United States and New Mexico – another Mexican state at that time – on the north and west. An empire in territory, it had but a very sparse population, until settled by Americans who had received authority from Mexico to colonize. These colonists paid very little attention to the supreme government, and introduced slavery into the state almost from the start, though the constitution of Mexico did not, nor does it now, sanction that institution. Soon they set up an independent government of their own, and war existed, between Texas and Mexico, in name from that time until 1836, when active hostilities very nearly ceased upon the capture of Santa Anna, the Mexican President. Before long, however, the same people – who with permission of Mexico had colonized Texas, and afterwards set up slavery there, and then seceded as soon as they felt strong enough to do so – offered themselves and the State to the United States, and in 1845 their offer was accepted. The occupation, separation and annexation were, from the inception of the movement to its final consummation, a conspiracy to acquire territory out of which slave states might be formed for the American Union. Even if the annexation itself could be justified, the manner in which the subsequent war was forced upon Mexico cannot. The fact is, annexationists wanted more territory than they could possibly lay any claim to, as part of the new acquisition. Texas, as an independent State, never had exercised jurisdiction over the territory between the Nueces River and the Rio Grande. Mexico had never recognized the independence of Texas, and maintained that, even if independent, the State had no claim south of the Nueces. I am aware that a treaty, made by the Texans with Santa Anna while he was under duress, ceded all the territory between the Nueces and the Rio Grande – , but he was a prisoner of war when the treaty was made, and his life was in jeopardy. He knew, too, that he deserved execution at the hands of the Texans, if they should ever capture him. The Texans, if they had taken his life, would have only followed the example set by Santa Anna himself a few years before, when he executed the entire garrison of the Alamo and the villagers of Goliad. In taking military possession of Texas after annexation, the army of occupation, under General Taylor, was directed to occupy the disputed territory. The army did not stop at the Nueces and offer to negotiate for a settlement of the boundary question, but went beyond, apparently in order to force Mexico to initiate war. It is to the credit of the American nation, however, that after conquering Mexico, and while practically holding the country in our possession, so that we could have retained the whole of it, or made any terms we chose, we paid a round sum for the additional territory taken; more than it was worth, or was likely to be, to Mexico. To us it was an empire and of incalculable value; but it might have been obtained by other means. The Southern rebellion was largely the outgrowth of the Mexican war. Nations, like individuals, are punished for their transgressions. We got our punishment in the most sanguinary and expensive
Ulysses S. Grant (Personal Memoirs)
Samvatsar asked for permission to fall back on Maha Plateau. Permission was granted, but the men were not willing to fall back without the company commander and the other wounded.
Kunal Verma (1962: The War That Wasn't)
He introduced petitions at the start of each session before the rules had been officially adopted, then would challenge the continuation of the gag and force a vote on it. He would inquire of the Speaker whether a certain petition was permissible and then read from it. He would ask if a petition could be referred to a committee instructed to explain why it could not be granted. People sent him petitions not only from his constituency but from all over the country, cleverly worded so as not quite to fall under the ban. Many of the petitions now asked for the repeal of the gag rule. It was he, of course, who named it “the gag.” In his dogged battle, Old Man Eloquent earned the respect of his bitterest foes. The Virginia state-righter Henry Wise called him “the acutest, the astutest, the archest enemy of Southern slavery that ever existed.”79
Daniel Walker Howe (What Hath God Wrought: The Transformation of America, 1815-1848)
when we adopt the biblical perspective of the cosmic temple, it is no longer possible to look at the world (or space) in secular terms. It is not ours to exploit. We do not have natural resources, we have sacred resources. Obviously this view is far removed from a view that sees nature as divine: As sacred space the cosmos is his place. It is therefore not his person. The cosmos is his place, and our privileged place in it is his gift to us. The blessing he granted was that he gave us the permission and the ability to subdue and rule. We are stewards. At the same time we recognize that the most important feature of sacred space is found in what it is by definition: the place of God’s presence. The cosmic-temple idea recognizes that God is here and that all of this is his. It is this theology that becomes the basis for our respect of our world and the ecological sensitivity that we ought to nurture.
John H. Walton (The Lost World of Genesis One: Ancient Cosmology and the Origins Debate)
Granting myself permission to use my innate skills of the heart, accepting that emotion was perfectly valid in the art of persuasion, amounted to nothing less than a breakthrough.
Sonia Sotomayor (My Beloved World)
Have we forgotten that what we tolerate, we empower? Silence is communication! Silence communicates agreement and grants permission. We enable deception when we refuse to confront the lies. Silence is not an option!
Rick Renner (How to Keep Your Head on Straight in a World Gone Crazy: Developing Discernment for These Last Days)
See, I appreciate that you are losing your productive time to show me the positive direction & thoughts. But why you are thinking that I’m a full package of negativity? Why? You know that I’m at my work place? What kind of projects I’m working on? I have not permission to disclose this information to my family too; that’s what I can tell it to you. I left your chance for these projects. Let’s come to your every advice: 1. I believe in women helping each other feel good about themselves instead of trying to compete Answer: If you are thinking that I’m competing with other women then it’s absolutely wrong my dear. You tell me a single example at your work place to whom I had not supported. You are absolutely taking me wrong. Now I’m crying because why people are not getting me properly. You are here who is treating me so differently. You are not understanding the point I think so. What do you think that in my whole life Shall I not ask for money? Let the world take me for granted? After 5-6 year of experience, Should I remain quiet only? You were giving me the examples of development & negotiations to others? To whom you have paid much higher & satisfactory. I didn’t had problem about that. But somewhere I thought that I was dying over there. Leave about the talent, because according to you, I’ve been proven already ….& so much bad. I don’t like to discuss bad things about the people; I remains silent that doesn’t mean you are taking me like anything. Your concerned person told me everybody’s salary. On that day I was cried a lot. I remember that day now also. I let it go. I observe the deserving factor about the surrounding. I was depressed a lot. I suffered that situation near about 5-6 months. I didn’t want to trouble you in case of finance because I was connected to market situation somehow. I thought that quitting will save you. I’ll get my hike & you will get your favorite candidate on that place. You were also happy with that candidate & you also wanted to promote. So I thought as it is my existence is not matter at all to that place at all. Better to move on. But on other side I knew that you will not let me leave easily or you may not need me at all. Who knows? I didn’t know? I shared that thing with my work team & nobody other than them. I loved that people a lot, I never mind anyone’s talk, if anybody did a good job then I was the person over there who brought cadbury, chocolates for them. I never hide a single thing from them. I love them as a friend, sister, mother & even one day your head of that department gossiped about me with the help of another person, when I come to know that thing I called him & asked him the reason. There was tears in my eyes while asking, that was the return of my love to him. After 1-1.5 month I took a heavy decision. That was not easy for me. But ask every person at your place about me that I have ever tried to compete with them? Not co-operate them? Whoever they may be. Either women or men. Even I had given instructions to women about the common sensed toilet hygiene too. Please dear, don’t put the un-necessary blames. I’m kind, love you that doesn’t mean that you can say anything. I have a competitive spirit about my work, not for the other men or women. Please clean up this point dear.
Eagles
See, I appreciate that you are losing your productive time to show me the positive direction & thoughts. But why you are thinking that I’m a full package of negativity? Why? You know that I’m at my work place? What kind of projects I’m working on? I have not permission to disclose this information to my family too; that’s what I can tell it to you. I left your chance for these projects. Let’s come to your every advice: 1. I believe in women helping each other feel good about themselves instead of trying to compete Answer: If you are thinking that I’m competing with other women then it’s absolutely wrong. You tell me a single example at your work place to whom I had not supported. You are absolutely taking me wrong. Now I’m crying because why people are not getting me properly. You are here who is treating me so differently. You are not understanding the point I think so. What do you think that in my whole life Shall I not ask for money? Let the world take me for granted? After 5-6 year of experience, Should I remain quiet only? You were giving me the examples of development & negotiations to others? To whom you have paid much higher & satisfactory. I didn’t had problem about that. But somewhere I thought that I was dying over there. Leave about the talent, because according to you, I’ve been proven already ….& so much bad. I don’t like to discuss bad things about the people; I remains silent that doesn’t mean you are taking me like anything. Your concerned person told me everybody’s salary. On that day I was cried a lot. I remember that day now also. I let it go. I observe the deserving factor about the surrounding. I was depressed a lot. I suffered that situation near about 5-6 months. I didn’t want to trouble you in case of finance because I was connected to market situation somehow. I thought that quitting will save you. I’ll get my hike & you will get your favorite candidate on that place. You were also happy with that candidate & you also wanted to promote. So I thought as it is my existence is not matter at all to that place at all. Better to move on. But on other side I knew that you will not let me leave easily or you may not need me at all. Who knows? I didn’t know? I shared that thing with my work team & nobody other than them. I loved that people a lot, I never mind anyone’s talk, if anybody did a good job then I was the person over there who brought Cadbury, chocolates for them. I never hide a single thing from them. I love them as a friend, sister, mother & even one day your head of that department gossiped about me with the help of another person, when I come to know that thing I called him & asked him the reason. There was tears in my eyes while asking, that was the return of my love to him. After 1-1.5 month I took a heavy decision. That was not easy for me. But ask every person at your place about me that I have ever tried to compete with them? Not co-operate them? Whoever they may be. Either women or men. Even I had given instructions to women about the common sensed toilet hygiene too. Please dear, don’t put the un-necessary blames. I’m kind, love you that doesn’t mean that you can say anything. I have a competitive spirit about my work, not for the other men or women. Please clean up this point.
Eagles
Mandatory words impose a duty; permissive words grant discretion.
Antonin Scalia (Reading Law: The Interpretation of Legal Texts)
Robinson is often celebrated as the first African American to break the color line and play in major-league baseball. While Robinson was certainly an amazing baseball player, this story line depicts him as racially special, a black man who broke the color line himself. The subtext is that Robinson finally had what it took to play with whites, as if no black athlete before him was strong enough to compete at that level. Imagine if instead, the story went something like this: “Jackie Robinson, the first black man whites allowed to play major-league baseball.” This version makes a critical distinction because no matter how fantastic a player Robinson was, he simply could not play in the major leagues if whites—who controlled the institution—did not allow it. Were he to walk onto the field before being granted permission by white owners and policy makers, the police would have removed him.
Robin DiAngelo (White Fragility: Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism)
They need society’s permission to experiment and grow and err: permission which teens and twentysomethings take for granted, but which adults in maturity often need just as much.
Jonathan Rauch (The Happiness Curve: Why Life Gets Better After 50)
An emotional outburst signals that something is going on, but it doesn’t tell us what. We need to grant the permission to feel, and then ask the right questions, if we wish to know what’s behind that outburst.
Marc Brackett (Permission to Feel: Unlocking the Power of Emotions to Help Our Kids, Ourselves, and Our Society Thrive)
5.2. Copyright and Disclaimer Copyright 2014 Metin Bektas. All Rights Reserved. This book is designed to provide information about the topics covered. It is sold with the understanding that the author is not engaged in rendering legal, accounting or other professional services. The author shall have neither liability nor responsibility to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information covered in this book. The book is for personal use of the original buyer only. It is exclusive property of the author and protected by copyright and other intellectual property laws. You may not modify, transmit, publish, participate in the transfer or sale of, reproduce, create derivative works from and distribute any of the content of this book, in whole or in part. The author grants permission to the buyer to use examples and reasonably sized excerpts taken from this book for educational purposes in schools, tutoring lessons and further training courses under the condition, that the material used is not sold or given away and is properly cited.
Metin Bektas (Algebra - The Very Basics)
Permission to take this dumpster fire of a wardrobe, which represents your dumpster fire of a love life, to an actual dumpster and set it on fire.” “Permission not granted. These are very work appropriate. Seven-year-olds like and respect me when I wear these clothes.” “Right, well, my grown man penis literally started shrivelling as soon as I saw these cardigans.” “It’s taken me years to assemble this collection of fun cardigans.” “That is the saddest sentence I have ever heard, and there is no such thing as a fun cardigan.
Kayley Loring (Troublemaker (Name in Lights, #3))
KLYTEMNESTRA Go ahead. Permission granted. If you always spoke in a tone this calm, it wouldn’t be so painful.
Sophocles (Elektra)
Hello all, Why must we be confused by all this online scammers when we all know that there has never been any other oracle apart from the the great spell casters called lama lama oracle temple, The great oracle and also i my self called kuq ya that is greatest of all, Kuq ya means GREATEST AMONG ALL THE SPELL CASTERS. This oracle has been in existence for so many years even before i was born i inherited it from my great grand father. Since we have been existing we have never failed in solving any kind of problem anyone must have been having cos we know the spirits that we serve we never lets us down, We perform various sacrifice to this spirits from time to time to make our powerful and doings effective. This temple is out on the internet to tell all of you that is wasting your time and also your hard earned money dealing with all this hungry souls that called themselves spell casters by bring cause to themselves by claiming to be what they are not, We advise you all that you should stop it as it is not right to do such, Because those spell casters that called themselves different names / temples are scammers,You will do this greatest oracle good by doing that.They are scammers and all those testimony there are posted by them also and not the people they have help,They are doing all this to get money to fed there-self and there family members !!! BE WARNED ALL OF YOU THAT NEED HELP FROM SPELL CASTERS AS IT IS BECAUSE OF ALL OF YOU WE HAVE DECIDED TO COME ONLINE TO REDUCE AND STOP ALL THIS FAKE SPELL CASTERS, AS WE GOT PERMISSION FROM THE FBI !!.. I have made so many of them online that are spoiling this great temple good work go back to the sea and some blind. I am Dr Kuq Ya the messenger to the great oracle of Nigeria,Indian,Indonesia,Singapore,UK,USA,Uganda,japan,Spain,Germany,Paris,Dubai,South Africa. To mention but a few..We are know well there as the great temple that has helped them get many of there ANCESTRAL problems solve in recent times. But we are also extending this great offer to those that have any kind of problem, when i mean any kind of problem i mean any problem at all you might be having in this life,Such as getting your lover back,you want to be rich, you feel like using charms on someone to get something you like from him or her or getting your scam many back, wining a lottery, to mention but a few. KUQ YA IS HERE FOR YOUR SERVICES AND PLEASE STOP DEALING WITH THOSE SO CALLED SPELL CASTERS THAT HAVE REALLY MESSED UP THIS WORK ONLINE. I HAVE NEVER BEEN ONLINE,BUT THE PRESIDENTS OF THE ABOVE COUNTRIES CALLED ME ON PHONE AND ALSO PERSONALLY HOLD A MEETING AND THEY ASK ME THE MESSENGER TO START ADVERTING AND TELL ALL ABOUT THIS GREATEST ORACLE THAT IS SO DURABLE, PERFECT, MARVELOUS, AND GOOD WORKS TO AVOID THIS SCAMMING THAT IS GOING ON ONLINE. I WILL BE ENDING HERE NOW, IF YOU HAVE ANYTHING BOTHERING YOUR MIND AND YOU NEED PERMANENT SOLUTION TO IT WITHOUT ANY SIDE EFFECT OR HARM, KINDLY SEND AN EMAIL TO THE FOLLOWING EMAIL ADDRESS: great.spellcaster@yahoo.com Thanks and may the spirits guide you to read and understand what i said and also we will be awaiting response from you all that have problems that want it solve at once.Thanks for your patronage as you come. To enhance fast communication, Kindly send down your Name : Country: State: Address: More about the kind of help you want here: Phone number: Age: Gender : Job: and any other information's you know it will be so helpful on the kind of work and help you wish for here. Because we solve any kind of problem in this life. NOTE : MY GMAIL ACCOUNT IS NOW BAD AS YOU CAN ONLY GET ME ON THIS EMAIL : great.spellcaster@yahoo.com. So don't contact me via me gmail account. And also our spell casting here has no side effect, As it is just to grant you your heart desires without any problem.
Kuqya
Mate, I’ve only been here for a few weeks, but I don’t think anyone even knows my name. I’ve already slipped three spots down the batting order. I’ve got no idea what the lyrics to the club song are. And every time I get a hit at training, I hear the faint sound of blokes whispering that one word under their breath: “Yuck.” What am I doing wrong?’ I began, nervously. Nuggsy paused, took a long swig of his Reschs schooner, and reclined languidly into his seat. He scratched his bald head for a moment, seemingly in deep thought, before embarking on the long-winded response that would indeed shape my cricketing future. ‘Listen, bud. You’re a grade cricketer now. And it’s time you learned a little bit about what that means. This isn’t club cricket, “Shires” cricket, or that stupid school shit that you wasted your time on for all those years. This is grade cricket: the highest level of amateur cricket in the world,’ he said with pride. Just for those who don’t already know, I should quickly provide a bit of background on the grade cricket competition. Grade cricket (or ‘Premier cricket’, as it is known in some states/territories) is the level directly below the state competition.  Despite this close proximity to the professional arena, it is nonetheless an amateur competition. Sure, one or two first graders might get paid a little bit under the table, but everyone else must pay a registration fee in order to play. Normally, each club has four to five grades — first grade being the strongest; fifth grade the weakest. Those in first grade enjoy a status that the fifth graders can only dream about. Being a first grader is like being a celebrity to 50 blokes whose names you’ll never know — or never even need to know — unless you end up playing with them after a severe run of poor form (or a serious disciplinary breach). The rest of the club — seconds, thirds, and fourth grade — is basically an assortment of talented youngsters and ageing desperates. The common denominator between the young and old brigade is that they were all once told they were ‘good enough to play for Australia’. In many cases, it was the first and last compliment they ever received — and the reason why they’re still playing. In all cases, it was the worst thing that could have ever happened to them. The ultimate grade cricketer, therefore, will possess the perfect balance of good and not good enough that will haunt them for all of their playing days. All this of course, is something that can only be learned with experience. At this early stage in my grade cricket career, I considered these young players to be ‘cool’ and the older players worthy of my respect. Nuggsy tilted his head to one side as he lit up a cigarette. He took a deep drag, holding it in for what seemed like hours, before launching his head back to expel a thick plume of smoke towards the ceiling. ‘Listen, great man,’ he began. ‘Success in grade cricket has nothing to do with skill, ability, or even results. It’s all about the social ladder, bud. You’ve got the big dogs up top, the peasants down the bottom, and everyone in between is just trying to stay relevant,’ he offered. In many ways, grade cricket social hierarchy bears great similarity to the feudal systems that first appeared in the Middle Ages in Europe — something I’d learned a bit about at high school. As I remembered, kings and monarchs sat at the top, enjoying their pick of the land, women and food. They were the ones who established the rules that everyone had to live under. The barons leased their land from the king; the knights leased their land from the barons; and the knights granted the lowly peasants their land.  The peasants were not allowed to marry, nor could they even leave the manor without permission. Basically, they were the fifth graders of the 8-12th Century.
Sam Perry (The Grade Cricketer)
The catcalls and screams didn’t surprise Leo, nor did discovering Meena at the heart of chaos. There was his delicate flower, on the ground wrestling Loni, a lioness who’d come to town for the wedding. The same Loni who’d made numerous passes at him over the years, but whose high maintenance attitude made him steer clear. He wondered what had triggered the hair pulling and wrestling. He also really wished, once again, that Meena had worn panties. The occasional flash of her girly bits dragged the possessive side of him out— which really wanted to snarl, “Mine. Don’t look.” It also woke the hungry lover that wanted to toss her over a shoulder and take her somewhere private for ravishing. At least those closest to the fight and witness to her bare bottom were all women. The bad? They were all women. His usual method of smacking a few heads together to save time wouldn’t work in this situation. Boys shouldn’t hit girls. So how to stop the catfight? He stuck fingers in his mouth and blew, the whistle strident and cutting through the noise. In the sudden quiet, he said, “Vex, what the hell are you doing?” Meena, fist held back, poised for a serious blow, froze. She swiveled her head and smiled sweetly. No sign of repentance at being caught misbehaving. “Just give me a second, Pookie. I am almost done here.” He arched a brow. “Vex.” He used his warning tone. “Maybe you should let Loni go and forget about hitting her.” “Probably. But the thing is, I really want to smash her face in.” Sensing an out, Loni turned her head and whined, “Get this crazy bitch off me. I didn’t do a damned thing. She started it. She always starts shit. She should have never been unbanned. She’s trouble. Always has been.” Reba and Zena opened their mouths, ready to leap to Meena’s defense, but Leo raised a hand. They held their tongues— not an easy feat for cats— but their eyes spoke quite eloquently. Leo focused his attention on Meena. “Vex, is this true? Did you jump her?” Her shoulders slumped. “Yeah.” “Why?” “Does it matter?” she asked. “It does to me. Why do you want to rearrange her nose?” “She said we didn’t belong together and that maybe she should show you why she’s a better choice.” Meena couldn’t help but growl as she recounted the reason for her ire aloud. “Punch her.” To say a few mouths O’d in surprise would be an understatement. No one was more surprised than Meena at his order. “Seriously?” “Yeah, seriously. Given any idiot with eyes could see we were together, then that makes what she said mean and uncalled for. If you’re going to talk the talk, then you have to be prepared to pay the price. Since I can’t very well smack Loni for causing trouble, as pride omega”— and, yes, he thrust out his chest and put on his most serious mien—“ I am giving you permission to do so.” Permission granted, and yet Meena didn’t hit Loni. On the contrary, she stood, smoothed down her skirt, and tossed her head, sending her ponytail flying. “No need to rearrange her face. You just admitted in front of an audience we are together. That calls for a round of shots. Whee!” Meena did a fist pump and yelled, “In your face, bitch!
Eve Langlais (When an Omega Snaps (A Lion's Pride, #3))
Asking permission to call someone by their first name is a gesture of gentility and consideration. And once permission is granted, the gate is open for mutual respect and mutual purpose. Simply demonstrating this courtesy before making an assumption is impressive. Once permission is granted, you have earned points on both sides.
Susan C. Young (The Art of Communication: 8 Ways to Confirm Clarity & Understanding for Positive Impact(The Art of First Impressions for Positive Impact, #5))
Who do you think that old woman is from whom you received the book?” And I said, “The Sibyl.” “You are in a mistake,” says he; “it is not the Sibyl.” “Who is it then?” say I. And he said, “It is the Church.” And I said to him, “Why then is she an old woman?” “Because,” said he, “she was created first of all. On this account is she old. And for her sake was the world made.” After that I saw a vision in my house, and that old woman came and asked me, if I had yet given the book to the presbyters. And I said that I had not. And then she said, “You have done well, for I have some words to add. But when I finish all the words, all the elect will then become acquainted with them through you. You will write therefore two books, and you will send the one to Clemens and the other to Grapte. And Clemens will send his to foreign countries, for permission has been granted to him to do so. And Grapte will admonish the widows and the orphans. But you will read the words in this city, along with the presbyters who preside over the Church.
The Church Fathers (The Complete Ante-Nicene & Nicene and Post-Nicene Church Fathers Collection)
Anna,” he began, but he saw his use of her name made her bristle. “Please sit, and I do mean will you please.” She sat, perched like an errant schoolgirl on the very edge of her chair, back straight, eyes front. “You are scolding me without saying a word,” the earl said on a sigh. “It was just a kiss, Anna, and I had the impression you rather enjoyed it, too.” She looked down, while a blush crept up the side of her neck. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” he said with sudden, happy insight. “You could accept my apology and treat me with cheerful condescension, but you enjoyed our kiss.” “My lord,” she said, addressing the hands she fisted in her lap, “can you not accept that were I to encourage your… mischief, I would be courting my own ruin?” “Ruin?” He said with a snort. “Elise will be enjoying an entire estate for the rest of her days as a token of ruin at my hands—among others—if ruin you believe it to be. I did not take her virginity, either, Mrs. Seaton, and I am not a man who casually discards others.” She was silent then raised her eyes, a mulish expression on her face. “I will not seek another position as a function of what has gone between us so far, but you must stop.” “Stop what, Anna?” “You should not use my name, my lord,” she said, rising. “I have not given you leave to do so.” He rose, as well, as if she were a lady deserving of his manners. “May I ask your permission to use your given name, at least when we are private?” He’d shocked her, he saw with some satisfaction. She’d thought him too autocratic to ask, and he was again reminded of his father’s ways. But she was looking at him now, really looking, and he pressed his advantage. “I find it impossible to think of you as Mrs. Seaton. In this house, there is no other who treats me as you do, Anna. You are kind but honest, and sympathetic without being patronizing. You are the closest thing I have here to an ally, and I would ask this small boon of you.” He watched as she closed her eyes and waged some internal struggle, but in the anguish on her face, he suspected victory in this skirmish was to be his. She’d grant him his request, precisely because he had made it a request, putting a small measure of power exclusively into her hands. She nodded assent but looked miserable over it. “And you,” he said, letting concern—not guilt, surely—show in his gaze, “you must consider me an ally, as well, Anna.” She speared him with a stormy look. “An ally who would compromise my reputation, knowing without it I am but a pauper or worse.” “I do not seek to bring you ruin,” he corrected her. “And I would never force my will on you.” Anna stood, and he thought her eyes were suspiciously bright. “Perhaps, my lord, you just did.” He
Grace Burrowes (The Heir (Duke's Obsession, #1; Windham, #1))
Esteban Ventura Novo rose to the rank of a police Lieutenant Colonel during the Batista regime in Cuba. Feared by many, he became known as the white-suited assassin and was infamous in Havana’s Fifth Precinct. He later moved to the Ninth Precinct where he continued his reign of terror. The University of Havana was closed due to the ongoing revolution and the students feared for their lives. Esteban Ventura Novo was known for the cruel torturing of people and how he dispatched his adversaries. On April 20, 1957 Ventura organized the largest massacre of students in Havana. At the time he sent a squad of undercover police to find Fructuoso Rodríguez, the president of the Federation of University Students and his followers and without hesitation Ventura ordered that they be killed in cold blood. During the second half of 1958, the swinging city of Havana became a dangerous place in which to live. The ruthless but dapper Ventura who started as a police snitch gained his promotions by means of his vicious conduct and the diabolical way he eliminated the so-called “enemies of the state.” Ventura, was condemned to death by Fidel Castro’s revolutionary army but managed to escape to Miami where he and other members of the Batista regime found refuge. Ventura settled in Miami, where he founded a security agency, which was located on First South West Street and Bacon Boulevard. On April 1, 1959, Ventura was granted permission to stay in the United States. He had escaped justice despite the overwhelming evidence against him. Esteban Ventura Novo, the “Man in the White Suit” continued to live a comfortable life in South Florida, until his death at the age of 87.
Hank Bracker (Suppressed I Rise)
After much battering back and forth between the men, the Count promised a sizable donation would be deposited at the cathedral’s offering box, if permission were granted on the spot. The holy fathers tottered indecisively over the Italians undignified requests. Mario’s power of persuasion astounded us when both clergymen finally gave their nods of approval. The models could be photographed nude and in sexually compromising positions; subject to the priests pretending to be clueless during our filming of such sacrilegious acts within the Basilica’s grandiose enclosures.
Young (Unbridled (A Harem Boy's Saga, #2))
10th July, 1872.—No great difficulty would be encountered in establishing a Christian Mission a hundred miles or so from the East Coast. The permission of the Sultan of Zanzibar would be necessary, because all the tribes of any intelligence claim relationship, or have relations with him; the Banyamwezi even call themselves his subjects, and so do others. His permission would be readily granted, if respectfully applied for through the English Consul. The Suaheli, with their present apathy on religious matters, would be no obstacle. Care to speak politely, and to show kindness to them, would not be lost labour in the general effect of the Mission on the country, but all discussion on the belief of the Moslems should be avoided;
David Livingstone (The Last Journals of David Livingstone, in Central Africa, from 1865 to His Death: 1869-1873)
[13] But it sometimes comes about that, when we have properly granted certain premisses, certain conclusions are derived from them that, though false, nonetheless follow from them. [14] What am I to do, then? Accept the false conclusion? [15] And how is that possible? Then should I say that I was wrong to accept the premisses? No, this isn’t permissible either. Or say: That doesn’t follow from the premisses? But that again isn’t permissible. [16] So what is one to do in such circumstances? Isn’t it the same as with debts? Just as having borrowed on some occasion isn’t enough to make somebody a debtor, but it is necessary in addition that he continues to owe the money and hasn’t paid off the loan; likewise, our having accepted the premisses isn’t enough to make it necessary for us to accept the inference, but we have to continue to accept the premisses. [
Epictetus (Discourses, Fragments, Handbook)
If love is to be defined as a genuine concern for the well-being of another person, then it must surely be deemed compatible with granting permission for an often harassed and rather browbeaten husband to step off the elevator on the eighteenth floor in order to enjoy ten minutes of rejuvenating cunnilingus with a near stranger.
Alain de Botton
Permission to jump in an X-wing and blow something up?” “Granted.
Jason Fry (The Last Jedi: Expanded Edition (Exclusive Edition) (Star Wars))
Why does Harry approach him? To Snape’s dying breath, Harry hates him. But he approaches because in Snape’s final moments, alone with a genocidal madman, the only thing he asked for, three times, was permission to look for Harry. He didn’t ask for his life, only Harry. Dumbledore once told Harry that “help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.” (HP/CoS, 264) Harry heard Snape’s dying wish and granted it.
Lorrie Kim (Snape: A Definitive Reading)
With their men fully engaged digging the defences, the British officers had been granted permission to spend their time at leisure.
Paul Fraser Collard (The Devil's Assassin (Jack Lark, Book 3): A Bombay-based military adventure of traitors, trust and deceit)
The goddess of death visited me in a dream. “A job well done, son of Tyr,” she said. “Your mother is safe. I may even grant you permission to visit her from time to time.” Warring emotions bubbled up in my gut then—anger at how my mother had been treated, and elation that one day I might get to see her again. Elation won out. “I look forward to that,” I said. “And I’m glad your dog is back home, even though he’s destined to kill my dad. But right now, do me a favor.” I rolled over and pulled up the covers. “Go to Helheim.
Rick Riordan (9 From the Nine Worlds)
The Society of Authors, as the Literary Representative of the Estate of John Masefield, granted permission to quote from The Box of Delights.
Kate Mascarenhas (The Psychology of Time Travel)
Similarly situated people inevitably are treated differently when police are granted permission to rely on racial stereotypes when making discretionary decisions.
Michelle Alexander (The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness)
(objectionable though the principle of internment on ethnic grounds may have been, a third of the camps’ population was granted permission during the war to leave, for education or employment).
R.M. Douglas (Orderly and Humane: The Expulsion of the Germans After the Second World War)
When we pester the Lord after He has already clearly shown His will, He may step back and allow us to have our way even though it does not correspond with His original plan. When our hearts are set on a course of action, God will grant us permission, though He knows we will later answer for the course we choose.
John Bevere (Enemy Access Denied: Slam the Devil's Door With One Simple Decision)
As Eragon spoke, an idea occurred to him, one that resonated within him too strongly to ignore. He explained it to Saphira, and once again she granted him her permission, although somewhat more reluctantly than before. Must you? she asked. Yes. Then do as you will, but only if she agrees. When they finished speaking of Vroengard, he looked Arya in the eyes and said, “Would you like to hear my true name? I would like to share it with you.” The offer seemed to shock her. “No! You shouldn’t tell it to me or anyone else. Especially not when we’re so close to Galbatorix. He might steal it from my mind. Besides, you should only give your true name to…to one whom you trust above all others.” “I trust you.” “Eragon, even when we elves exchange our true names, we do not do so until we have known each other for many, many, years. The knowledge they provide is too personal, too intimate, to bandy about, and there is no greater risk than sharing it. When you teach someone your true name, you place everything you are in their hands.” “I know, but I may never have the chance again. This is the only thing I have to give, and I would give it to you.” “Eragon, what you are proposing…It is the most precious thing one person can give another.” “I know.” A shiver ran through Arya, and then she seemed to withdraw within herself. After a time, she said, “No one has ever offered me such a gift before…I’m honored by your trust, Eragon, and I understand how much this means to you, but no, I must decline. It would be wrong for you to do this and wrong for me to accept just because tomorrow we may be killed or enslaved. Danger is no reason to act foolishly, no matter how great our peril.” Eragon inclined his head. Her reasons were good reasons, and he would respect her choice. “Very well, as you wish,” he said.
Christopher Paolini (Inheritance (The Inheritance Cycle, #4))
Faith allows your soul to break free and travel to places your envious mind rarely grants it permission to visit.
Nidhi M. Jhaveri (I'll just save myself)
I’m trying to make a profit. I’m using batteries, toilet paper, and paper towels as currency. Each is something that will eventually be in short supply.” “You’re trying to get all the toilet paper in town?” Astrid shrilled. “Are you kidding?” “No, Astrid, I’m not kidding,” Albert said. “Look, right now, kids are playing with the stuff. I saw little kids throwing rolls of it around on their lawns like it was a toy. So—” “So your solution is to try and take it all away from people?” “You’d rather see it wasted?” “Yeah, actually,” Astrid huffed. “Rather than you getting it all for yourself. You’re acting like a jerk.” Albert’s eyes flared. “Look, Astrid, now kids know they can buy their way into the club with it. So they’re not going to waste it anymore.” “No, they’re going to give it all to you,” she shot back. “And what happens when they need some?” “Then there will still be some left because I made it valuable.” “Valuable to you.” “Valuable to everyone, Astrid.” “It’s you taking advantage of kids dumb enough not to know any better. Sam, you have to put a stop to this.” Sam had drifted away from the conversation, his head full of the music. He snapped back. “She’s right, Albert, this isn’t okay. You didn’t get permission—” “I didn’t think I needed permission to give kids what they want. I mean, I’m not threatening anyone, saying, ‘Give me your toilet paper, give me your batteries.’ I’m just playing some music and saying, ‘If you want to come in and dance, then it’ll cost you.’” “Dude, I respect you being ambitious and all,” Sam said. “But I have to shut this down. You never got permission, even, let alone asked us if it was okay to charge people.” Albert said, “Sam, I respect you more than I can even say. And Astrid, you are way smarter than me. But I don’t see how you have the right to shut me down.” That was it for Sam. “Okay, I tried to be nice. But I am the mayor. I was elected, as you probably remember, since I think you voted for me.” “I did. I’d do it again, man. But Sam, Astrid, you guys are wrong here. This club is about all these kids have that can get them together for a good time. They’re sitting in their homes starving and feeling sad and scared. When they’re dancing, they forget how hungry and sad they are. This is a good thing I’m doing.” Sam stared hard at Albert, a stare that kids in Perdido Beach took seriously. But Albert did not back down. “Sam, how many cantaloupes did Edilio manage to bring back with kids who were rounded up and forced to work?” Albert asked. “Not many,” Sam admitted. “Orc picked a whole truckload of cabbage. Before the zekes figured out how to get at him. Because we paid Orc to work.” “He did it because he’s the world’s youngest alcoholic and you paid him with beer,” Astrid snapped. “I know what you want, Albert. You want to get everything for yourself and be this big, important guy. But you know what? This is a whole new world. We have a chance to make it a better world. It doesn’t have to be about some people getting over on everyone else. It can be fair to everyone.” Albert laughed. “Everyone can be equally hungry. In a week or so, everyone can starve.
Michael Grant (Hunger (Gone, #2))
In 1992 Pryor applied for permission to read his Stasi file. In 1994 it was granted, and he returned to a reunified Berlin. In the reading room established by then for victims of the secret police in the former Stasi headquarters on Magdalenenstrasse, the sheer heft of his ten-thousand-page file gave him what felt momentarily like special status. Then someone appeared with fifteen thousand and he took his place among the mortals. He
Giles Whittell (Bridge of Spies)
Shelby came back,” he said. Silence answered him. “She did?” Muriel finally asked in a shocked breath. “Yes, ma’am. And apparently Luke did enough groveling to satisfy her, because she’s moved in with him. And this morning he paid me a visit, asked my permission to propose.” “Get out of town! Did you grant it?” “No. I told him to go to hell. I should have just shot him. I told him that.” “Oh, you’d like me to believe you’re that kind of bully, wouldn’t you?” “The silly girl seems to love him. And you should see him. Whipped into shape that fast. I bet if we pulled up his shirt, there would be lash marks all over his back. He’s limp as a noodle.” “I bet he’s not,” she said with a laugh. “Well, good for Shelby. That maneuver never worked for me. When I stomped off into the night, they just said, ‘Okay, bah-bye.’” “What’s
Robyn Carr (Paradise Valley)
A private chain is just a cloud database achieved by way of the peer-to-peer Ethereum protocol: it’s a silo that you control and that you can grant access to. This should be contrasted with a permissioned blockchain , which like an enterprise software application has defined roles with permissions that can be set by a central administrator.
Chris Dannen (Introducing Ethereum and Solidity: Foundations of Cryptocurrency and Blockchain Programming for Beginners)
We have to stop asking the question ~ 'Did this happen to you?' We need to start asking the question - 'How do you want to live with this personal traumatic event in your life?' Dr. Kc
Dr. Kathleen carterMartinez (Permission Granted: The Journey from Trauma to Healing: From Rape, Sexual Assault, And Emotional Abuse (The Collective Voice of 'We' Healing Collection Book 1))
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017 Jacket photography © Plain Picture / Hanka Steidle Extract of The Lonely City (2016) by Olivia Laing reproduced by permission from Canongate Books Ltd Gail Honeyman asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Source ISBN: 9780008172114 Ebook Edition © May 2017 ISBN: 9780008172138 Version: 2018-10-18 Praise for Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine ‘Eleanor Oliphant is a truly original literary creation: funny, touching, and unpredictable. Her journey out of dark shadows is expertly woven and absolutely gripping’ Jojo Moyes, Me Before You ‘A highly readable but beautifully written story that’s as perceptive and wise as it is funny and endearing … warm, funny and thought-provoking’ Observer ‘At times dark and poignant, at others bright and blissfully funny … a story about loneliness and friendship, and a careful study of abuse, buried grief and resilience. A debut to treasure’ Gavin Extence, The Universe Versus Alex Woods ‘Gail Honeyman’s Eleanor Oliphant is a woman scarred by profound loneliness, and the shadow of a harrowing childhood she can’t even bear to remember. Deft, compassionate and deeply moving – Honeyman’s debut will have you rooting for Eleanor with every turning page’ Paula McClain, The Paris Wife ‘So powerful – I completely loved Eleanor Oliphant’ Fiona Barton, The Widow ‘An absolute joy, laugh-out-loud funny but deeply moving
Gail Honeyman (Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine)
I’m not a Black Nationalist, because I believe the Reconstruction and Nineteenth Amendments could redeem this whole bigoted and misogynist enterprise. But white people won’t let them. It really is that simple. I say the fifteenth Amendment must mean that the votes of Black people cannot be suppressed by voter ID laws, and white people tell me no. I say that Black political power cannot be gerrymandered away by racist white legislatures, and white people tell me no. I say that the Fourteenth Amendment’s grant of equal protection of laws must protect me from racial harassment by the cops, and entitles me to equal pay for my talents, and promises me that my peaceful protest will be treated with the same permissiveness the cops accord to a mob of white insurrectionists storming the nation’s Capitol, and white people tell me no, no, no. These amendments are a tonic white people refuse to drink. They can cure the Constitution of its addiction to white male supremacy, if white people would just take the medicine.
Elie Mystal (Allow Me to Retort: A Black Guy’s Guide to the Constitution)
DIVORCE ABROAD When a couple can be divorced in more than one country serious legal problems can develop. British nationals who live abroad can decide whether to be divorced at home or abroad. What matters is where it makes most sense for them to be divorced, and they should work out which jurisdiction is equally fair to both parties. One of the factors that will determine where the divorce takes place is who puts a petition in first. This will carry some weight when everything else is finely balanced. So if there is jurisdiction in Britain and another country and you would be better off in Britain, start proceedings quickly. But if the English courts would favour the husband more than the wife, a judge would be likely to tell them to use the jurisdiction that would be fairest to both. It creates a bad impression on a judge if you, as petitioner, have deliberately opted for the jurisdiction most favourable to you. One English woman, who had lived in France and was married to a Frenchman, decided to file her petition in the UK. Her husband was able to have the proceedings stopped completely, however, because the judge believed that justice would be served better in France. An American couple who were married in Italy but had lived in the UK for six years and wanted to divorce could have their case heard in any of the three countries. They could go to the States because they were still domiciled there (in the sense that that was where they came from and where they were both likely to die), but they could also use the English or Italian courts because in the first instance this would their country of residence and in the second this would be where their assets were. However, even if they had lived in Britain for a few years, if most of their assets were still in Italy it would be more sensible for the divorce to take place there. Under Moslem law a man divorces his wife simply by saying ‘I divorce you’ three times, and his liability to his wife is only five gold coins. That is patently unfair for a British woman or, say, an Iranian or an Iraqi living in Britain. While the British courts accept the divorce, it does not preclude the woman from gaining some settlement from her husband’s assets in Britain, provided, of course, he has not taken everything he owns out of the country. British courts can make orders for financial provision when a divorce or separation has taken place abroad, provided permission has been granted by a High Court judge. The judge will only give the go-ahead if he or she considers that the circumstances warrant it – if, for example, the person making the application now lives in Britain. When a divorce takes place abroad, provided that it was recognized the country which granted it, it will always be recognized in the UK. This is not always the case in reverse: if a couple were married in a Catholic country (which does not recognize divorce) and they came to live in the UK and subsequently divorce there, UK legislation would only cover them, their dependants and assets in the UK. We pointed out in Chapter 8 that when assets are held abroad, UK courts have only limited powers to make a husband transfer a share if his assets to his wife, or vice versa, particularly when the money is tied up in the Middle or Far East.
Fiona Shackleton (The Divorce Handbook)
I'm not convinced," Dodds said. It was Thursday morning, just six hours after Bosch and Chu had ended their surveillance of Chang, with the suspect going to an apartment in Monterey Park and apparently retiring for the night. "Well, Cap, you shouldn't be convinced yet," Bosch said. "That's why we want to continue the surveillance and get the wire." "What I mean is, I'm not convinced it's the way to go," Dodds said, "Surveillance is fine. But a wire is a lot of work and effort for long-shot results." Bosch understood. Dodds had an excellent repu tation as a detective, but he was now an administrator and about as far removed from the detective work in his division as a Houston oil executive is from the gas pump, He now worked with personnel numbers and budgets, He had to find ways of doing more with less and never allowing a dip in the statistics of arrests made and cases closed. That made him a realist and the reality was that electronic surveillance was very expensive. Not only did it take double-digit man hours to carefully draft a fifty plus-page affidavit secking court permission, but once permission was granted, a wiretap room had to be staffed twenty-four hours a day with a detective monitoring the line. Often a single-number tap led to other numbers needing to be tapped and under the law each line had to have its own monitor. Such an operation quickly sucked up overtime like a giant sponge. With the RHD's OT budget seriously down because of economic constraints on the department, Dodds was reluctant to give any of it up for what amounted to an investigation of the mur der of a South Side liquor store clerk. He would rather save it for a rainy day-a big-time media case that might come up and that would demand it.
Michael Connelly (Nine Dragons (Harry Bosch, #14; Harry Bosch Universe, #20))
I told myself you deserved more than me, more than my miserable offerings.” He shakes his head. “But this?” he says, appalled. “These words? This explanation? You chose him because he’s kind to you? Because he’s offered you basic charity?” I’m suddenly angry. I’m suddenly mortified. I’m outraged by the permission Warner’s granted himself to judge my life—that he thought he’d been generous by stepping aside. I narrow my eyes, clench my fists. “It’s not charity,” I snap. “He cares about me—and I care about him!” Warner nods, unimpressed. “You should get a dog, love. I hear they share much the same qualities.
Tahereh Mafi (Ignite Me (Shatter Me, #3))
. . . we now live in a politically charged world of endless entitlement and victimization; anything upsetting, unfulfilling, or considered disenfranchising or oppressive is to be laid at the feet of society and the cultures that are produced—everything is society's fault. With its evolutionary understanding of life and reality, retaliation is not only expected it is culturally applauded—society must evolve—people must change. This cultural conditioning has become the necessary catalyst for murder and suicide. It not only sets the expectation but practically grants permission. This is the message today's young people are taught every day of their lives.
Roger Ball (American Bloodlust: The Violent Psychological Conditioning of Today’s Young People)