Pfaff Quotes

Pfaff, citado por Spitta, altera a redação de um ditado familiar: 'diga-me alguns dos teus sonhos, e eu te direi sobre o teu eu interior'.

The criminal justice system is not a ‘system’ at all,” Pfaff writes, “and treating it as such can lead analysts to overlook important causes of prison growth.

The accounts that history presents have to be paid.

In 1996, I entered into pastoral counseling with Pastor David Drake from the Metropolitan Chapel on North Forest Road in East Amherst, New York.

Pfaff: The riposte of a civilized nation: one that believes in good, in human society and does oppose evil, has to be narrowly focused and, above all, intelligent. Missiles are blunt weapons. Those terrorists are smart enough to make others bear the price for what they have done, and to exploit the results. A maddened U.S. response that hurts still others is what they want: It will fuel the hatred that already fires the self-righteousness about their criminal acts against the innocent. What the United States needs is cold reconsideration of how it has arrived at this pass. It needs, even more, to foresee disasters that might lie in the future.

Miriam gave her hair a preliminary drying, gathered her dressing-gown together and went upstairs. From the schoolroom came unmistakable sounds. They were evidently at dinner. She hurried to her attic. What was she to do with her hair? She rubbed it desperately—fancy being landed with hair like that, in the middle of the day! She could not possibly go down.... She must. Fraulein Pfaff would expect her to—and would be disgusted if she were not quick—she towelled frantically at the short strands round her forehead, despairingly screwed them into Hinde's and towelled at the rest. What had the other girls done? If only she could look into the schoolroom before going down—it was awful—what should she do?... She caught sight of a sodden-looking brush on Mademoiselle's bed. Mademoiselle had put hers up—she had seen her... of course... easy enough for her little fluffy clouds—she could do nothing with her straight, wet lumps—she began to brush it out—it separated into thin tails which flipped tiny drops of moisture against her hands as she brushed. Her arms ached; her face flared with her exertions. She was ravenous—she must manage somehow and go down. She braided the long strands and fastened their cold mass with extra hairpins. Then she unfastened the Hinde's—two tendrils flopped limply against her forehead. She combed them out. They fell in a curtain of streaks to her nose. Feverishly she divided them, draped them somehow back into the rest of her hair and fastened them.

I really am sorry,” Tad explains. “I just want to belong. A frog who can’t eat flies—it just feels so wrong.” “Being different can be hard, but, you’ll figure it out somehow. Someday, you may find it’s a gift, even if you don’t think so right now.” “How would you know?” Tad’s eyes fill with tears. “Because, I’m allergic to honey—have been for years! Since I couldn’t make honey like other bees do, I trained as a Medic, and now I get to help you!

Mom! Dad! I’m sorry I scared you guys. I guess to be a frog, I don’t have to eat flies.” His parents hug him with all of their might. “That’s correct, Taddy Bear. We’re so glad you’re all right! It’s not what you eat, but what’s here, inside, that defines who you are and fills us with pride!

You’re wrong! I’m NOT a frog because I can’t eat flies; but, I’m able to eat these bugs. Can I be a raccoon like you guys?” “Silly frog, you can’t be a raccoon! Mamma eats frogs, and she’ll be back soon.

Daniel Russman’s career in the automotive industry is marked by his progression from Saleen Canada to his current role at Pfaff Automotive Partners.

Daniel Russman, a seasoned professional in the automotive industry, currently serves as the Vice President of Operations at Pfaff Automotive Partners Inc.

I don’t concern myself about articles of faith, but I will not tolerate it, if a cleric (Pfaffe) concerns himself with earthly matters. The organized lie must somehow be broken, so that the state is absolute lord.

The BSU, under Unit Chief Jack Pfaff at the time I took my hostage-negotiation training, was dominated by two strong and insightful personalities—Howard Teten and Patrick Mullany. Teten is about six foot four with penetrating eyes behind wire-rim glasses. Though an ex-Marine, he’s a contemplative type—always totally dignified; the model of an intellectual professor. He joined the Bureau in 1962 after serving with the San Leandro, California, Police Department, near San Francisco. In 1969, he began teaching a landmark course called Applied Criminology, which eventually (after Hoover’s death, I suspect) became known as Applied Criminal Psychology. By 1972, Teten had gone up to New York to consult with Dr. James Brussel, the psychiatrist who had cracked the Mad Bomber case, who agreed to personally teach Teten his profiling technique. Armed with this knowledge, the big breakthrough of Teten’s approach was how much you could learn about criminal behavior and motives by focusing on the evidence of the crime scene. In some ways, everything we’ve done in behavioral science and criminal investigative analysis since then has been based on this.