Proposal Promise Quotes

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I unfolded the note, and it took me a few seconds to decipher Adrian’s writing. If he did write me a dating proposal, I really hoped he would type it.
Richelle Mead (Blood Promise (Vampire Academy, #4))
With the world securely in order, Dain was able to devote the leisurely bath time to editing his mental dictionary. He removed his wife from the general category labeled "Females" and gave her a section of her own. He made a note that she didn't find him revolting, and proposed several explanations: (a) bad eyesight and faulty hearing, (b)a defect in a portion of her otherwise sound intellect, (c) an inherited Trent eccentricity, or (d) an act of God. Since the Almighty had not done him a single act of kindness in at least twenty-five years, Dain thought it was about bloody time, but he thanked his Heavenly Father all the same, and promised to be as good as he was capable of being.
Loretta Chase (Lord of Scoundrels (Scoundrels, #3))
I did not think you would be angry, Jem burst out, and it was like ice cracking across a frozen waterfall, freeing a torrent. We were engaged, Tessa. A proposal-an offer of marriage-is a promise. A promise to love and care for someone always. I did not mean to break mine to you. But it was that or die. I wanted to wait, to be married to you and live wit you for years, but that wasn't possible. I was dying too fast. I would have given it up-all of it up-to be married to you for a day. A day that would never have come. You are a reminder-a reminder of everything I am losing. The life I will not have.
Cassandra Clare (Clockwork Princess (The Infernal Devices, #3))
I promise to stand by you, to hold you up when you’re about to fall, and to always keep you safe. I never believed there was a girl out there for me. Until I met you. You changed everything. And I never want to live without you. I love you more than I ever thought possible.
J. Sterling (The Game Changer (The Perfect Game, #2))
When I said yes, it implies till death, and forever thence. When I said love, it connotes trust, allied in situations tough. And today, when I hold your hand, I am prepared to stand, any trouble, any avalanche.
Jasleen Kaur Gumber
People spend their lives searching for their one true love, their other half. I found mine in college, dancing in a fraternity house driveway. Lucky for me, she found me right back.
J. Sterling (The Game Changer (The Perfect Game, #2))
May all your letters be received with an abundance of love.
Beth Wiseman (Plain Proposal (Daughters of the Promise, #5))
Say yes, Jenny. Promise you'll marry me. Promise you'll still be here, driving me crazy and loving me when we're little and old and surrounded by grandchildren. Promise that you'll let me love you until I take my last breath. Promise.
Maggie Osborne (The Promise of Jenny Jones)
There is no such place as the promised land, but it would be foolish to reject even an unpromised land as worthless without first inspecting it thoroughly.
Mary Balogh (The Proposal (The Survivors' Club, #1))
Sydney: Can I ask you a question? Me: As long as you promise never again to start a question off with whether or not you can propose a question. Sydney: Okay, asshole. I know I shouldn't be thinking about him at all, but I'm curious. What did he wrote on that paper when we went to get my purse? And what did you write back that made hit you? Me: I agree that you shouldn't be thinking about him at all, but I'm honestly shocked it's taken you this long to ask me about it. Sydney: Well? Ugh. I hate writing it verbatim, but she wants to know, so... Me: He wrote "Are you fucking her?" Sydney: OMG! What a prick! Me: Yep. Sydney: So what did you say back to him that made him punch you? Me: I write, "Why do you think I'm here for her purse? I gave her a hundred for tonight, and now she owes me change." I reread the text, and I'm not so sure it sounds as funny as I thought it did.
Colleen Hoover (Maybe Someday (Maybe, #1))
If I didn't, would you be happy with someone like me? If we met under different circumstances, would you?
Kristine Pierce (You'll Be Safe Here (Promises, Prayers & Secrets Series, Book 1))
If you can open your mouth to say; I love you! To someone without taking such person(s) as your priority, even with your gifts and money, something more important than your freebie is missing out!
Michael Bassey Johnson
Love cannot be a means to any end. Love does not promise success, power, achievement, health, recovery, satisfaction, peace of mind, fulfillment, or any other prizes. Love is an end in itself, a beginning in itself. Love exists only for love. The invitation of love is not a proposal for self-improvement or any other kind of achievement. Love is beyond success and failure, doing well or doing poorly. There is not even a right and wrong way. Love is a gift. One can never be proud of being in love. One can only be grateful.
Gerald G. May (The Awakened Heart: Opening Yourself to the Love You Need)
I propose instead that you don’t commit to anything in the future, but just look at the options available now, and choose those that will give you the most promising range of options afterward.
David Epstein (Range: Why Generalists Triumph in a Specialized World)
I do believe you think what now you speak, But what we do determine oft we break. Purpose is but the slave to memory, Of violent birth, but poor validity, Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree, But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be. Most necessary ’tis that we forget To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt. What to ourselves in passion we propose, The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
William Shakespeare
A man proposes to demonstrate to his woman how much he values her.
Kelly Eileen Hake (The Bride Blunder (Prairie Promises, #3))
Did you tell her it was just until all was safe, or did you promise her forever?” Victoria shook her head. “Sounds to me like you’ve got some proposing to do before you’re really a married man. Maybe a few days alone will loosen your tongue and make that knee of your bend easier.
Jodi Thomas (To Kiss a Texan (McLain, #2))
Griff held out his empty hand. "Pauline, I'm here asking you--begging you, if it comes to that--to take my hand. Just take my hand, and promise before God you will never let it go. I will vow the same. Can we arrange for that to happen, someday soon? In a church?" After a moment, he added in a quiet voice, "Please?
Tessa Dare (Any Duchess Will Do (Spindle Cove, #4))
Then we will do two things," Penumbra says, nodding. "First, I will tell you just a little of our history. Then, to understand, you must see the Reading Room. There, my proposal will become clear, and I dearly hope you will accept it." Of course we'll accept it. That's what you do on a quest. You listen to the old wizard's problem and then you promise to help him.
Robin Sloan (Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore (Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore, #1))
I want forever with you. I want to wake up next to you every morning and go to bed beside you every night. I want to wear a ring on my finger every day of my life marking me as yours. I want to make you promises, and I want to spend every day of my life working to keep those promises.
Chanel Cleeton (Flirting with Scandal (Capital Confessions, #1))
Clyman thought that the proposed shortcut saved little distance and promised much harder traveling than the proven route. They sat by a campfire in the sagebrush that night and argued about it. In the morning they argued some more. But Hastings
Daniel James Brown (The Indifferent Stars Above: The Harrowing Saga of the Donner Party)
when I propose to you, I want it to be as easy as breathing for you to say yes. I promise to do everything in my power between now and that moment to make it that way. Anything you need, anything you want, say the words. I will do everything I can for you.
Kiera Cass (The Elite (The Selection, #2))
Are you for peace? The great test of your devotion to peace is not how many words you utter on its behalf. It’s not even how you propose to deal with people of other countries, though that certainly tells us something. To fully measure your “peacefulness” requires that we examine how you propose to treat people in your own backyard. Do you demand more of what doesn’t belong to you? Do you endorse the use of force to punish people for victimless “crimes”? Do you support politicians who promise to seize the earnings of others to pay for your bailout, your subsidy, your student loan, your child’s education or whatever pet cause or project you think is more important than what your fellow citizens might personally prefer to spend their own money on? Do you believe theft is OK if it’s for a good cause or endorsed by a majority? If you answered yes to any of these questions, then have the courage to admit that peace is not your priority. How can I trust your foreign policy if your domestic policy requires so much to be done at gunpoint?
Lawrence W. Reed
What will be the immediate result should our party change its general procedure to suit a viewpoint that wants to emphasise the practical results of our struggle, that is social reforms? As soon as “immediate results” become the principal aim of our activity, the clear-cut, irreconcilable point of view, which has meaning only in so far as it proposes to win power, will be found more and more inconvenient. The direct consequence of this will be the adoption by the party of a “policy of compensation,” a policy of political trading, and an attitude of diffident, diplomatic conciliation. But this attitude cannot be continued for a long time. Since the social reforms can only offer an empty promise, the logical consequence of such a program must necessarily be disillusionment.
Rosa Luxembourg (Reform or Revolution)
Publicity is effective precisely because it feeds upon the real. Clothes, food, cars, cosmetics, baths, sunshine are real things to be enjoyed in themselves. Publicity begins by working on a natural appetite for pleasure. But it cannot offer the real object of pleasure and there is no convincing substitute for a pleasure in that pleasure's own terms. The more convincingly publicity conveys the pleasure of bathing in a warm, distant sea, the more the spectator-buyer will become aware that he is hundreds of miles away from that sea and the more remote the chance of bathing in it will seem to him. This is why publicity can never really afford to be about the product or opportunity it is proposing to the buyer who is not yet enjoying it. Publicity is never a celebration of a pleasure-in-itself. Publicity is always about the future buyer. It offers him an image of himself made glamorous by the product or opportunity it is trying to sell. The image then makes him envious of himself as he might be. Yet what makes this self-which-he-might-be enviable? The envy of others. Publicity is about social relations, not objects. Its promise is not of pleasure, but of happiness : happiness as judged from the outside by others. The happiness of being envied is glamour. Being envied is a solitary form of reassurance. It depends precisely upon not sharing your experience with those who envy you. You are observed with interest but you do not observe with interest - if you do, you will become less enviable. ... ... The spectator-buyer is meant to envy herself as she will become if she buys the product. She is meant to imagine herself transformed by the product into an object of envy for others, an envy which will then justify her loving herself. One could put this another way : the publicity images steals her love of herself as she is, and offers it back to her for the price of the product. (P. 128)
John Berger (Ways of Seeing)
I took her in my arms and kissed her. And thus in the midst of a city of wild conflict, filled with the alarms of war; with death and destruction reaping their terrible harvest around her, did Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium, true daughter of Mars, the God of War, promise herself in marriage to John Carter, Gentleman of Virginia.
Edgar Rice Burroughs
I want us to wake up together, to drink coffee from the same cup, to go to sleep at the same time. I want to go out with you, to show you off and around. I want us to eat dinner, then watch some hockey match together and then your melodramas. I promise I will keep your most favorite CD in my car, and we'll listen to it whenever you'll want, even when I know it will drive me insane. I want you to look at me when I am shaving in the mornings and I promise wherever we go I will always look only at you. I want to finally understand why you smell so fresh and flowery, I want to hold your hand, not under the table, but over it. I want us to cook together, to laugh together, to cry together, I want you for worse and for better. I want us to get married some day, have kids,a lot of them, then grow up and even die in one day. I want it all with you. And I get it that I haven't been around for 4 years, but if you still want me, if you still love me like you did all those years ago, I will make up for our lost time.
Melanie Sargsian (Lovember: A Collection of Short Love Stories)
Isabella Swan? I promise to love you forever—every single day of forever. Will you marry me?
Stephenie Meyer (Eclipse (The Twilight Saga, #3))
I promise to keep you happy, safe, and in love - for as long as my heart wakes; and as much as you soul takes.
Prashant Chopra (The Eyes that drowned Uyuni)
It was typical of Washington’s style of leadership to present a promising proposal as someone else’s idea, rather than his own.
David Hackett Fischer (Washington's Crossing)
I don't have diamonds or solitaires now, but with this water of the pool and this bottle of beer, I vow before you to love you forever.
Parul Wadhwa (The Masquerade)
I don’t think any other retail company in the world could do what I’m going to propose to you. It’s simple. It won’t cost us anything. And I believe it would just work magic, absolute magic on our customers, and our sales would escalate, and I think we’d just shoot past our Kmart friends in a year or two and probably Sears as well. I want you to take a pledge with me. I want you to promise that whenever you come within ten feet of a customer, you will look him in the eye, greet him, and ask him if you can help him. Now I know some of you are just naturally shy, and maybe don’t want to bother folks. But if you’ll go along with me on this, it would, I’m sure, help you become a leader. It would help your personality develop, you would become more outgoing, and in time you might become manager of that store, you might become a department manager, you might become a district manager, or whatever you choose to be in the company. It will do wonders for you. I guarantee it. Now, I want you to raise your right hand—and remember what we say at Wal-Mart, that a promise we make is a promise we keep—and I want you to repeat after me: From this day forward, I solemnly promise and declare that every time a customer comes within ten feet of me, I will smile, look him in the eye, and greet him. So help me Sam.
Sam Walton (Sam Walton: Made In America)
The first symptom of the trouble appeared when Madison studied Hamilton’s proposal for the funding of the domestic debt. On the one hand, Hamilton’s recommendation looked straightforward: All citizens who owned government securities should be reimbursed at par—that is, the full value of the government’s original promise. But many original holders of the securities, mainly veterans of the American Revolution who had received them as pay for their service in the war, had then sold them at a fraction of their original value to speculators. What’s more, the release of Hamilton’s plan produced...
Joseph J. Ellis (Founding Brothers: The Revolutionary Generation)
In our company the trick is to change jobs in time to guarantee that the long-term pay-off you promised four years ago in your capital budget proposal becomes someone else’s short-term performance target.
Gary Hamel (Competing for the Future)
An ironic religion -- one that never claims to be absolutely true but only professes to be relatively beautiful, and never promises salvation but only proposes it as a salubrious idea. A century ago there were people who thought art was the thing that could fuse the terms of this seemingly insuperable oxymoron, and no doubt art is part of the formula. But maybe consumerism also has something to teach us about forging an ironic religion -- a lesson about learning to choose, about learning the power and consequences, for good or ill, of our ever-expanding palette of choices. Perhaps . . . the day will come when the true ironic religion is found, the day when humanity is filled with enough love and imagination and responsibility to become its own god and make a paradise of its world, a paradise of all the right choices.
Alex Shakar (The Savage Girl)
proposed an antidote to the deadening impact of capitalist spectacle in what he named “constructed situations,” which calls on artists to create moments that coax people out of passivity, rendering them the co-creators of what promises to be, according to Debord, a less mediocre life.
Anne Bogart (What's the Story: Essays about art, theater and storytelling)
After a few Republicans on the Houston city council supported the Democratic majority's proposal that stalled cars be towed immediately off the city's notoriously clotted freeways, local Republican officials promised retribution. 'We're not looking for council members who are going to go along and get along,' said Jared Woodfill, chairman of the Harris County Republican Party. 'We're looking for council members who are going to stand up for conservative values.' Surely, political ideology has teetered over some high cliff when towing can be described as a 'value.' What's next, a doctrine of potholes, the water pressure credo?
Bill Bishop (The Big Sort: Why the Clustering of Like-Minded America is Tearing Us Apart)
[O]ne can see, perhaps, how "perfect" Christianity was in that sense. It took the slave's mind off Africa, or material freedom, and proposed that if the black man wished to escape the filthy paternalism and cruelty of slavery, he wait, at least, until he died, when he could be transported peacefully and majestically to the Promised Land.
LeRoi Jones (Blues People: Negro Music in White America)
Married, married. My ring on your finger. Yours on mine. Till death do us part,” he rattles off. “Come on Mabes, it’s the next logical step. We’ve been living together for long enough. It’s time to make an honest man out of me.” “We’ve been living together for five hours,” I say, looking at the clock. He shrugs. “When it’s right, it’s right.
Lily Morton (Promise Me (Beggar's Choice #1))
Are you married?” “I will be.” Resting a leather-sleeved forearm on the gas tank, he leans in. “Does five o’clock tonight work for you?” I sip the coffee and hum. “Is that a proposal?” “It’s a foregone conclusion.” He rubs his jaw with a gloved hand. “I always wondered what you would look like.” “You wondered what I would look like?” “My forever.
Pam Godwin (One is a Promise (Tangled Lies, #1))
Knowing how to quit is just as important as knowing how not to quit. You see, if I offer three hundred books to one person and this person does not read even one; if I give her knowledge and she refuses to apply; if I propose therapy but she refuses to accept it; Then, after dozens of forgiveness and failed promises, it is time to quit and let her go from my life.
Robin Sacredfire
...we begin to understand marriage as the insistently practical union that it is. We begin to understand it, that is, as it is represented in the traditional marriage ceremony, those vows being only a more circumstantial and practical way of saying what the popular songs say dreamily and easily: "I will love you forever"--a statement that, in this world, inescapably leads to practical requirements and consequences because it proposes survival as a goal. Indeed, marriage is a union much more than practical, for it looks both to our survival as a species and to the survival of our definition as human beings--that is, as creatures who make promises and keep them, who care devotedly and faithfully for one another, who care properly for the gifts of life in this world.
Wendell Berry (The Art of the Commonplace: The Agrarian Essays)
Similarly, a 2016 World Resources Institute report analyzes a variety of possible dietary modifications and finds that “ambitious animal protein reduction”—focused on reducing overconsumption of animal-based foods in regions where people devour more than 60 grams of protein and 2,500 calories per day—holds the greatest promise for ensuring a sustainable future for global food supply and the planet.
Paul Hawken (Drawdown: The Most Comprehensive Plan Ever Proposed to Reverse Global Warming)
He grinned. “Do not fear. I am here to serve you, as I promised.” Despite the fit of schoolgirl giggles that had seized her in Carbonek when he first proposed to be her knight, his assurance annoyed her now. “You inspire me with confidence,” she said, honey-sweet. “With a few more years and experience, you would make a capable guardian, I’m sure.” “And you an amiable ward,” he said, bowing again.
Suzannah Rowntree (Pendragon's Heir)
I knew that in order to accomplish that, I needed to use language that spoke to all Americans and propose policies that touched everyone—a topflight education for every child, quality healthcare for every American. I needed to embrace white people as allies rather than impediments to change, and to couch the African American struggle in terms of a broader struggle for a fair, just, and generous society.
Barack Obama (A Promised Land)
I licked my dry lips, glancing around at everyone staring at us. Finally I looked up into Cole’s handsome face. “I’m here because I love you, and I need to ask you something.” I took a deep breath. It was time to go big. I lowered myself to one knee. Cole’s eyes grew round and I heard a few female gasps behind him. “Shannon, what—” “Cole Walker, I once told you in fear that you were nothing, but there has never been a day of your life that that was true and there has never been a day I’ve ever really thought that. You’ve been extraordinary to me since we were fifteen.” I smiled shakily, feeling vulnerable and frightened but hopeful too as he stared down at me with growing tenderness in his expression. “Apart from Logan I’ve never had a real family. The kind you can count on through everything. The kind that gives you second, third, fourth chances because the other option is no option at all. Because they love you and they’re there for you. Unconditionally. Logan was the only one who ever gave me that. Until you. You’re my family, Cole. I want you to be my family forever.” I laughed hoarsely. “I don’t have a ring or anything. I just have me. And I know I’m not perfect and I know you deserve perfect . . . but I love you more than anyone else in this world and I promise you I’ll never let you forget that again.” My heart slowed its rapid beating as a sense of calm came over me. A sense of rightness. It was as if I’d found the balance I’d been missing ever since I got in that car and left Cole behind on that stoop on Scotland Street all those years ago. “It’s always been you, and I always want it to be . . . Marry me, Cole.
Samantha Young (Echoes of Scotland Street (On Dublin Street, #5))
Fifty-six Democratic senators proposed repealing the free-speech protections of the First Amendment. The media were silent, and yet the American people deserve to know that a majority of their senators were so afraid of political opposition that they wanted to empower the federal government to police who can speak, and when, and for how long—and on what subjects. That was a radical break from the vision of our Founders.
Ted Cruz (A Time for Truth: Reigniting the Promise of America)
The Distinctions: SINCERITY - is the assessment that you are honest, that you say what you mean and mean what you say; you can be believed and taken seriously. It also means when you express an opinion it is valid, useful, and is backed up by sound thinking and evidence. Finally, it means that your actions will align with your words. RELIABILITY - is the assessment that you meet the commitments you make, that you keep your promises. COMPTENCE - is the assessment that you have the ability to do what you are doing or propose to do. In the workplace this usually means the other person believes you have the requisite capacity, skill, knowledge, and resources, to do a particular task or job. CARE - is the assessment that you have the other person’s interests in mind as well as your own when you make decisions and take actions. Of the four assessments of trustworthiness, care is in some ways the most important for building lasting trust. When people believe you are only concerned with your self-interest and don’t consider their interests as well, they may trust your sincerity, reliability and competence, but they will tend to limit their trust of you to specific situations or transactions. On the other hand, when people believe you hold their interest in mind, they will extend their trust more broadly to you.
Charles Feltman (The Thin Book of Trust; An Essential Primer for Building Trust at Work)
The investigating officer, Col. George Nauman, went to Fort Yuma, verified that Burke had never entertained — much less refused — such a proposal, and the two sent runners out to local tribes promising ransoms for the white captives. Word arrived that one of the girls, probably Mary Ann, had died, and Lorenzo, with the support of his neighbors in El Monte, petitioned Governor J. Neely Johnson in Sacramento, asking for help in rescuing Olive.
Margot Mifflin (The Blue Tattoo: The Life of Olive Oatman (Women in the West))
They’ll hear about your husband’s fortune. The suitors will begin to gather, and I want you to promise me this. Whenever one of them proposes, as they will, Doris must say rapturously, ‘Oh, David! All my life I’ve wanted to live in Israel.’ When he hears that she intends to live there instead of bringing him to the United States, you’ll see his interest evaporate. I said evaporate. It vanishes.” He waved his hands violently back and forth across his face to indicate total abolishment.
Dial Press Trade Paperback (The Drifters)
Theory of mind postulates that, even though these cannot be directly observed, we readily impute mental states to others (and also to ourselves, since the bedrock proposal is that we understand our own mental states well enough to generalize from them). And so we constantly infer someone else’s intentions, thoughts, knowledge, lack of knowledge, doubts, desires, beliefs, guesses, promises, preferences, purposes, and many, many more things in order to behave as social creatures in the world.
Karen Joy Fowler (We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves)
Part of what kept him standing in the restive group of men awaiting authorization to enter the airport was a kind of paralysis that resulted from Sylvanshine’s reflecting on the logistics of getting to the Peoria 047 REC—the issue of whether the REC sent a van for transfers or whether Sylvanshine would have to take a cab from the little airport had not been conclusively resolved—and then how to arrive and check in and where to store his three bags while he checked in and filled out his arrival and Post-code payroll and withholding forms and orientational materials then somehow get directions and proceed to the apartment that Systems had rented for him at government rates and get there in time to find someplace to eat that was either in walking distance or would require getting another cab—except the telephone in the alleged apartment wasn’t connected yet and he considered the prospects of being able to hail a cab from outside an apartment complex were at best iffy, and if he told the original cab he’d taken to the apartment to wait for him, there would be difficulties because how exactly would he reassure the cabbie that he really was coming right back out after dropping his bags and doing a quick spot check of the apartment’s condition and suitability instead of it being a ruse designed to defraud the driver of his fare, Sylvanshine ducking out the back of the Angler’s Cove apartment complex or even conceivably barricading himself in the apartment and not responding to the driver’s knock, or his ring if the apartment had a doorbell, which his and Reynolds’s current apartment in Martinsburg most assuredly did not, or the driver’s queries/threats through the apartment door, a scam that resided in Claude Sylvanshine’s awareness only because a number of independent Philadelphia commercial carriage operators had proposed heavy Schedule C losses under the proviso ‘Losses Through Theft of Service’ and detailed this type of scam as prevalent on the poorly typed or sometimes even handwritten attachments required to explain unusual or specific C-deductions like this, whereas were Sylvanshine to pay the fare and the tip and perhaps even a certain amount in advance on account so as to help assure the driver of his honorable intentions re the second leg of the sojourn there was no tangible guarantee that the average taxi driver—a cynical and ethically marginal species, hustlers, as even their smudged returns’ very low tip-income-vs.-number-of-fares-in-an-average-shift ratios in Philly had indicated—wouldn’t simply speed away with Sylvanshine’s money, creating enormous hassles in terms of filling out the internal forms for getting a percentage of his travel per diem reimbursed and also leaving Sylvanshine alone, famished (he was unable to eat before travel), phoneless, devoid of Reynolds’s counsel and logistical savvy in the sterile new unfurnished apartment, his stomach roiling in on itself in such a way that it would be all Sylvanshine could do to unpack in any kind of half-organized fashion and get to sleep on the nylon travel pallet on the unfinished floor in the possible presence of exotic Midwest bugs, to say nothing of putting in the hour of CPA exam review he’d promised himself this morning when he’d overslept slightly and then encountered last-minute packing problems that had canceled out the firmly scheduled hour of morning CPA review before one of the unmarked Systems vans arrived to take him and his bags out through Harpers Ferry and Ball’s Bluff to the airport, to say even less about any kind of systematic organization and mastery of the voluminous Post, Duty, Personnel, and Systems Protocols materials he should be receiving promptly after check-in and forms processing at the Post, which any reasonable Personnel Director would expect a new examiner to have thoroughly internalized before reporting for the first actual day interacting with REC examiners, and which there was no way in any real world that Sylvanshine could expect
David Foster Wallace (The Pale King)
Since the assassinations of King and Robert Kennedy, wrote Remnick, the liberal constituencies of America had been waiting for a savior figure. Barack Obama proposed himself. In the eyes of his supporters, he was a promise in a bleak landscape; he possessed an inspirational intelligence and an evident competence . . . he was an embodiment of multi-ethnic inclusion when the country was becoming no longer white in its majority. This was the promise of his campaign, its reality or vain romance, depending on your view.35
Jason L. Riley (Please Stop Helping Us: How Liberals Make It Harder for Blacks to Succeed)
Huiann swallowed, her hands clasped together and her eyes glassy with tears, then she spoke some more. “Her heart is full of feeling for you, but she knows it is wrong for her to stay with you. She wishes for you to find a white woman who will fit into your life and be the wife you need.” Alan started shaking his head before Dong Li even finished translating. “No. Tell her she makes me happy. She is exactly the wife I need.” He breathed deeply, steadying the quaver in his voice. “Ask Chua Huiann if she will do me the honor of marrying me.” Dong clicked his tongue, but offered Alan’s proposal. Huiann’s eyes opened wide and she spoke rapidly. “How would your family and your people react to you marrying a foreign bride? You would be ostracized. It cannot be.” Dong added his own thoughts to the translation. “The girl speaks sense and sees more clearly than you.” Alan frowned. He couldn’t promise his family would accept Huiann or ever welcome them home as a couple, but he didn’t care. Maybe she was seeing reason, but he was only seeing her.
Bonnie Dee (Captive Bride)
He set his hand over her lips, stopping her words. “I sent you away once.” His fingers trailed down her cheek. “There are some things that cannot be made right by simple apology. It’s not simply marriage I intend. It’s a promise. I will never be without you again.” Her heart thudded wildly in her chest. “I was hoping I could avoid the bit in the proposal where I lay out all the advantages of the match to you. There aren’t nearly enough of them. The truth is simply this: you can find a better man than I. God knows you wouldn’t have to look very hard. But I don’t believe you can find one who loves you more.” She sucked in her breath. “Love will never magically make me whole. It won’t heal old wounds. But when I’m around you, I do not feel as if I must be alone. I smile when you’re in the room and I laugh when you’re happy. I feel as if I’ve come home to you.” He slid his fingers up her arm, around her back. “There isn’t one part of me that you’ve flinched from. I don’t know why you’d marry me, but I know why I’m desperate for you. Nobody else on earth would bring me to myself as you have.
Courtney Milan
Like Plato, Kant believed that human beings have a dual nature: part animal and part rational. The animal part of us follows the laws of nature, just as does a falling rock or a lion killing its prey. There is no morality in nature; there is only causality. But the rational part of us, Kant said, can follow a different kind of law: It can respect rules of conduct, and so people (but not lions) can be judged morally for the degree to which they respect the right rules. What might those rules be? Here Kant devised the cleverest trick in all moral philosophy. He reasoned that for moral rules to be laws, they had to be universally applicable. If gravity worked differently for men and women, or for Italians and Egyptians, we could not speak of it as a law. But rather than searching for rules to which all people would in fact agree (a difficult task, likely to produce only a few bland generalities), Kant turned the problem around and said that people should think about whether the rules guiding their own actions could reasonably be proposed as universal laws. If you are planning to break a promise that has become inconvenient, can you really propose a universal rule that states people ought to break promises that have become inconvenient? Endorsing such a rule would render all promises meaningless. Nor could you consistently will that people cheat, lie, steal, or in any other way deprive other people of their rights or their property, for such evils would surely come back to visit you. This simple test, which Kant called the “categorical imperative,” was extraordinarily powerful. It offered to make ethics a branch of applied logic, thereby giving it the sort of certainty that secular ethics, without recourse to a sacred book, had always found elusive.
Jonathan Haidt (The Happiness Hypothesis: Finding Modern Truth in Ancient Wisdom)
Tariq was still speaking, his voice hushed, then high, beseeching, then reasoning; his face hopeful, then stricken. "I can't," Laila said. "Don't say that. I love you." "I'm sorry - " "I love you." How long had she waited to hear those words from him? How many times had she dreamed them uttered? There they were, spoken at last, and the irony crushed her. "It's my father I can't leave," Laila said. "I'm all he has left. His heart couldn't take it either." Tariq knew this. He knew she could not wipe away the obligations of her life any more than he could his, but it went on, his pleadings and her rebuttals, his proposals and her apologies, his tears and hers. In the end, Laila had to make him leave. At the door, she made him promise to go without goodbyes. She closed the door on him. Laila leaned her back against it, shaking against his pounding fists, one arm gripping her belly and a hand across her mouth, as he spoke through the door and promised that he would come back, that he would come back for her. She stood there until he tired, until he gave up, and then she listened to his uneven footsteps until they faded, until all was quiet, save for the gunfire cracking in the hills and her own heart thudding in her belly, her eyes, her bones.
Khaled Hosseini (A Thousand Splendid Suns)
In fact, war itself could become a commodity, just like opium. In 1821 the Greeks rebelled against the Ottoman empire. The uprising aroused great sympathy in liberal and romantic circles in Britain - Lord Byron, the poet, even went to Greece to fight alongside the insurgents. But London financiers saw an opportunity as well. They proposed to the rebel leaders the issue of tradable Greek Rebellion Bonds on the London stock exchange. The Greeks would promise to repay the bonds, plus interest, if and when they won their independence. Private investors bought bonds to make a profit, or out of sympathy for the Greek cause, or both. The value of Greek Rebellion Bonds rose and fell on the London stock exchange in tempo with military successes and failures on the battlefields of Hellas. The Turks gradually gained the upper hand. With a rebel defeat imminent, the bondholders faced the prospect of losing their trousers. The bondholders' interest was the national interest, so the British organised an international fleet that, in 1827, sank the main Ottoman flotilla in the Battle of Navarino. After centuries of subjugation, Greece was finally free. But freedom came with a huge debt that the new country had no way of repaying. The Greek economy was mortgaged to British creditors for decades to come.
Yuval Noah Harari (Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind)
In a remarkable letter to the director of the Vatican Observatory, John Paul II wrote: The church does not propose that science should become religion or religion science. On the contrary, unity always presupposes the diversity and integrity of its elements. Each of these members should become not less itself but more itself in a dynamic interchange, for a unity in which one of the elements is reduced to the other is destructive, false in its promises of harmony, and ruinous of the integrity of its components. We are asked to become one. We are not asked to become each other. . . . Unity involves the drive of the human mind towards understanding and the desire of the human spirit for love. When human beings seek to understand the multiplicities that surround them, when they seek to make sense of experience, they do so by bringing many factors into a common vision. Understanding is achieved when many data are unified by a common structure. The one illuminates the many: it makes sense of the whole. . . . We move towards unity as we move towards meaning in our lives. Unity is also the consequence of love. If love is genuine, it moves not towards the assimilation of the other but towards union with the other. Human community begins in desire when that union has not been achieved, and it is completed in joy when those who have been apart are now united.10
Ilia Delio (Making All Things New: Catholicity, Cosmology, Consciousness (Catholicity in an Evolving Universe Series))
By contrast, the American left and the Democratic Party operate on the principle that “free stuff” is truly free. The proposals of free healthcare, free education and free monthly checks all come with the tantalizing promise that someone else is going to pay. Not one Democratic candidate will stand up at a rally, point his finger toward the audience, and say, “The government is going to provide, and you are the ones who are going to pay for it.” This would bring an awkward, menacing silence. The reason for the cheering is the audience’s excitement over its realization that their bills and benefits will be footed by some other guy. This isn’t social insurance; it’s theft socialism.
Dinesh D'Souza (United States of Socialism: Who's Behind It. Why It's Evil. How to Stop It.)
I had thought of calling the next sort of superficial people the Idealists; but I think this implies a humility towards impersonal good they hardly show; so I call them the Autocrats. They are those who give us generally to understand that every modern reform will “work” all right, because they will be there to see. Where they will be, and for how long, they do not explain very clearly. I do not mind their looking forward to numberless lives in succession; for that is the shadow of a human or divine hope. But even a theosophist does not expect to be a vast number of people at once. And these people most certainly propose to be responsible for a whole movement after it has left their hands. Each man promises to be about a thousand policemen. If you ask them how this or that will work, they will answer, “Oh, I would certainly insist on this”; or “I would never go so far as that”; as if they could return to this earth and do what no ghost has ever done quite successfully—force men to forsake their sins. Of these it is enough to say that they do not understand the nature of a law any more than the nature of a dog. If you let loose a law, it will do as a dog does. It will obey its own nature, not yours. Such sense as you have put into the law (or the dog) will be fulfilled. But you will not be able to fulfil a fragment of anything you have forgotten to put into it.
G.K. Chesterton (Eugenics and Other Evils (Illustrated))
For the first three years, it’s fun being a pro football player’s girlfriend.   “Marlee, let me see your hand! Did Chris propose yet?” Amber asks.   I’m in year ten.   “Still naked.” I wiggle my fingers in front of her the same way I did last week and the week before that . . . and the week before that. #HeDidntPutARingOnIt   Sometimes, I like to hashtag my life. #CheaperThanTherapy   I sip my margarita. “When it happens, I promise to let you know.” Or, you know, keep asking every time you see me.   “Marlee.” Courtney sighs. She stands at the head of the table clutching a glitter-coated gavel. “We made exceptions for you to join the Lady Mustangs. Try to acknowledge that and save your little side conversation until we’ve finished.”   “Sorry, Court.” Every time I call her Court, she strains her Botoxed forehead and glares in my direction, so obviously, it’s the only thing I call her. Well, sometimes I call her bitch, but she doesn’t know about that.   “As I was saying, the annual Lady Mustangs Fashion Show is in three weeks. Everyone must attend the next meeting so we can discuss the outfits for you and your husbands.”   I catch her eye again. She raises her chin, and her fat-injected lips form an actual smile.   “Oh, I’m sorry. In your case, Marlee, you and your boyfriend.”   See? What a bitch.   “Thanks for the clarification, Court, but I understood.
Alexa Martin (Intercepted (Playbook, #1))
No,” she whispered. “No more.” His breath came hot and heavy against her ear as his arm crept back around her waist. “Why not?” For a moment her mind was blank. What reason could she give that would make sense to him? If she protested that they weren’t married, he would simply put an end to that objection by marrying her, and that would be disastrous. Then she remembered Petey’s plan. “Because I’ve already promised myself to another.” His body went still against hers. An oppressive silence fell over them both, punctuated only by the distant clanging of the watch bell. But he didn’t move away, and at first she feared he hadn’t heard her. “I said—” she began. “I heard you.” He drew back, his face taught with suspicion. “What do you mean ‘another?’ Someone in England?” She considered inventing a fiancé in London. But that would have no weight with him, would it? “Another sailor. I . . . I’ve agreed to marry one of your crew.” His expression hardened until it looked chiseled from the same oak that formed his formidable ship. “You’re joking.” She shook her head furiously. “Peter Hargraves asked me to . . . to be his wife last night. And I agreed.” A stunned expression spread over his face before anger replaced it. Planting his hands on either side of her hips, he bent his head until his face was within inches from her. “He’s not one of my crew. Is that why you accepted his proposal—because he’s not one of my men? Or do you claim to have some feeling for him?” He sneered the last words, and shame spread through her. It would be too hard to claim she had feelings for Petey when she’d just been on the verge of giving herself to Gideon. But that was the only answer that would put him off her. Her ands trembled against his immovable chest. “I . . . I like him, yes.” “The way you ‘like’ me?” When she glanced away, uncertain what to say to that, he caught her chin and forced her to look at him. Despite the dim light, she could tell that desire still held him. And when he spoke again, his voice was edged with the tension of his need. “I don’t care what you agreed to last night. Everything has changed. You can’t possibly still want to marry him after the way you just responded to my touch.” “That was a mistake,” she whispered, steeling herself to ignore the flare of anger in his eyes. “Petey and I are well suited. I knew him from before, from the Chastity. I know he’s an honorable man, which is why I still intend to marry him.” A muscle ticked in Gideon’s jaw. “He’s not a bully, you mean. He’s not a wicked pirate like me, out to ‘rape and pillage.’” He pushed away from the trunk with an oath, then spun towards the steps. “Well, he’s not for you, Sara, no matter what you may think. And I’m going to put a stop to his courtship of you right now!
Sabrina Jeffries (The Pirate Lord)
If you were you ask ten couples how they got engaged, each of them would have a different story. If you asked ten Christians how they came to know Christ, they would have different stories as well. God treats us as individuals. He knows what makes our hearts sing. He knows our love language. Jesus orchestrates His “proposal” moment with us and knows what it takes to woo us. He desires for us to rise up and leave all other pursuers. He wants us to be His alone, knowing that one day He will return when all is ready for the wedding. He will call to us to come away and be with Him forever. Until that day, we can live with unwavering confidence, knowing that we are promise to Him. We are spoken for.
Robin Jones Gunn (Spoken For: Embracing Who You Are and Whose You Are)
What are you smiling about?" Rider asked. Willow glanced at him and flushed. "That must have been some daydream you were having." If you only knew, Willow thought. "Come on, Freckles, it's time you get back to the ranch. I have work to do." His big work-roughened hand swallowed hers as he helped her to her feet. Against her will, her body responded to its warmth. She snatched her hand away, garnering a searching expression in his dark brown eyes. She quickly excused her reaction with a flirty smile. "I promised not to touch you, remember?" "Yes,but I dont't recall promising not to touch you." He wiggled his brows in a comical imitation of an evil villain in a bad play. She laughed and shook her head. "Help me mount Sugar before I decide to wipe that grin off your face." "And how do you propose to do that?" he asked, retrieving the horses and returning to he side. He bent down, cupped his hands, and boosted her into the mare's saddle. "You weren't planning on slapping my face again, I hope," he said, reaching for Sultan's reins. "Oh,no, nothing like that." She batted her lashes coquettishly, the affect intensified by the naughty twinkle in her eyes. "You better stop looking at me like that, or I'll have to follow Sultan's example and break down your door tonight." "I don't think Juan would be too happy about making me two new doors. It wasn't easy explaining what happened to the first one!
Charlotte McPherren (Song of the Willow)
I was just settling into the salons of Austenian Bath when Gabriel muttered, "This is strange." I looked up to see him pulling a long blue-gray thread from between the nearly translucent pages. My jaw dropped, and I was kneeling on the chaise in a flash. "Is the binding coming loose? No, don't pull it! I can take it to my book doctor tomorrow night." "Stop hyperventilating, sweetheart. I think it's a bookmark," he said, pulling on the thread until he stretched it to my hand. "Here." I wound the thread around my finger. "What passage was it marking?" He scanned the page and lifted an eye. "It's an Edward and Jane scene. I know how you love those. Edward's saying, 'I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you---especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame.'" I was so caught up in watching his lips as they formed the words that I barely noticed the sudden tension on the fiber wound around my finger. I realized now that Gabriel had slipped a ring onto the thread and was sliding it toward me. I watched as the respectable diamond twinkled in the light of the oil lamp. "I'm not Edward, " Gabriel promised. "I'm not afraid the thread will break and leave me bleeding. Our thread's already been tested. And it will hold up. I'm asking you to make the link permanent. Please, marry me.
Molly Harper (Nice Girls Don't Bite Their Neighbors (Jane Jameson, #4))
The co-op proposed to include a quota system in its bylaws and deeds, promising that the proportion of African Americans in the Peninsula Housing Association would not exceed the proportion of African Americans in California’s overall population. This concession did not appease government officials, and the project stalled. Stegner and other board members resigned; soon afterward the cooperative was forced to disband because it could not obtain financing without government approval. In 1950, the association sold its land to a private developer whose FHA agreement specified that no properties be sold to African Americans. The builder then constructed individual homes for sale to whites in “Ladera,” a subdivision that still adjoins the Stanford campus.
Richard Rothstein (The Color of Law: A Forgotten History of How Our Government Segregated America)
In a hurry to escape he let himself out of the house and walked to the truck. Before he could climb inside Marilee raced down the steps. Breathless,she came to a sudden halt in front of him. At the dark look in his eyes she swallowed. "Please don't go,Wyatt. I've been such a fool." "You aren't the only one." He studied her with a look that had her heart stuttering.A look so intense, she couldn't look away. "I've been neating myself up for days,because I wanted things to go my way or no way." "There's no need.You're not the only one." Her voice was soft,throaty. "You've always respected my need to be independent.But I guess I fought the battle so long,I forgot how to stop fighting even after I'd won the war." "You can fight me all you want. You know Superman is indestructable." Again that long,speculative look. "I know I caught you off guard with that proposal. It won't happen again. Even when I understood your fear of commitment, I had to push to have things my way.And even though I still want more, I'm willing to settle for what you're willing to give,as long as we can be together." She gave a deep sigh. "You mean it?" "I do." "Oh,Wyatt.I was so afraid I'd driven you away forever." He continued studying her. "Does this mean you're suffering another change of heart?" "My heart doesn't need to change. In my heart,I've always known how very special you are.It's my head that can't seem to catch up." She gave a shake of her head,as though to clear it. "I'm so glad you understand me. I've spent so many years fighting to be my own person, it seems I can't bear to give up the battle." A slow smile spread across his face, changing it from darkness to light. "Marilee,if it's a sparring partner you want,I'm happy to sigh on. And if,in time,you ever decide you want more, I'm your man." He framed her face with his hands and lowered his head,kissing her long and slow and deep until they were both sighing with pleasure. Her tears started again,but this time they were tears of joy. Wyatt brushed them away with his thumbs and traced the tracks with his lips. Marilee sighed at the tenderness. It was one of the things she most loved about this man. Loved. Why did she find it so hard to say what she was feeling? Because,her heart whispered, love meant commitment and promises and forever after,and that was more than she was willing to consider. At least for now. After a moment he caught her hand. "Where are we going?" "Your place.It's closer than the ranch, and we've wasted too much time already." "i can't leave the ambulance..." "All right." He turned away from the ranch truck and led her toward her vehicle. "See how easy I am?" At her little laugh he added, "I'm desperate for some time alone with you." Alone. She thought about that word. She'd been alone for so long.What he was offering had her heart working overtime. He was willing to compromise in order to be with her. She was laughing through her tears as she turned the key in the ignition. The key that had saved his life. "Wyatt McCord,I can't think of anything I'd rather be than alone with you.
R.C. Ryan (Montana Destiny)
ministers were at Waterloo Station, already in the train for Southampton, the news came through that Reynaud had resigned. The French government had rejected the proposed union, and the war was decided. Pétain had been appointed premier. ‘It’s all over,’ de Gaulle told Monnet on the phone. ‘There is no sense in pressing further. I am coming back.’ Churchill got off the train and went home. On that same night, 120 German bombers attacked England for the first time. Nine British civilians were killed, the first. Paul Reynaud could have been the same kind of leader as Churchill. He regarded Hitler as the Genghis Khan of the modern age, he demanded total dedication and promised that his government would ‘summon together and lead all the forces of France’ in continuing the
Geert Mak (In Europe: Travels Through the Twentieth Century)
The Book of Mormon proposes a new purpose for America: becoming a realm of righteousness rather than an empire of liberty. Against increasing wealth and inequality, the Book of Mormon advocates the cause of the poor. Against the subjection of the Indians, it promises the continent to the native people. Against republican government, it proposes righteous rule by judges and kings under God's law. Against a closed canon Bible and non-miraculous religion, the Book of Mormon stands for ongoing revelation, miracles and revelation to all nations. Against skepticism, it promotes belief; against nationalism, a universal Israel. It foresees disaster for the nation if the love of riches, resistance to revelation, and Gentile civilization prevail over righteousness, revelation and Israel.
Richard L. Bushman
Democracy is a proposal (rarely realized) about decision making; it has little to do with election campaigns. Its promise is that political decisions be made after, and in the light of, consultation with the governed. This is dependent upon the governed being adequately informed about the issues in question, and upon the decision-makers having the capacity and will to listen and take account of what they have heard. Democracy should not be confused with the ‘freedom’ of binary choices, the publication of opinion polls or the crowding of people into statistics. These are its pretences. Today the fundamental decisions, which effect the unnecessary pain increasingly suffered across the planet, have been and are taken unilaterally without any open consultation or participation. Both
John Berger (Hold Everything Dear: Dispatches on Survival and Resistance)
At this stage though, with the greatest will in the world, I wasn’t going to be climbing anything, not unless I could raise the sponsorship. And little did I know quite how hard that could be. I had no idea how to put a proposal for sponsorship together; I had no idea how to turn my dream into one company’s opportunity; and I certainly didn’t know how to open the doors of a big corporation just to get heard. On top of that, I had no suit, no track record, and certainly no promise of any media coverage. I was, in effect, taking on Goliath with a plastic fork. And I was about to get a crash course in dealing with rejection. This is summed up so well by that great Churchill quote: “Success is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm.” It was time to get out there with all of my enthusiasm, and commit to fail…until I succeeded.
Bear Grylls (Mud, Sweat and Tears)
It is important here not to confuse publicity with the pleasure or benefits to be enjoyed from the things it advertises. Publicity is effective precisely because it feeds upon the real. Clothes, food, cars, cosmetics, baths, sunshine are real things to be enjoyed in themselves. Publicity begins by working on a natural appetite for pleasure. But it cannot offer the real object of pleasure and there is no convincing substitute for a pleasure in that pleasure's own terms. The more convincingly publicity conveys the pleasure of bathing in a warm, distant sea, the more the spectator-buyer will become aware that he is hundreds of miles away from that sea and the more remote the chance of bathing in it will seem to him. This is why publicity can never really afford to be about the product or opportunity it is proposing to the buyer who is not yet enjoying it. Publicity is never a celebration of a pleasure-in-itself. Publicity is always about the future buyer. It offers him an image of himself made glamorous by the product or opportunity it is trying to sell. The image then makes him envious of himself as he might be. Yet what makes this self-which-he-might-be enviable? The envy of others. Publicity is about social relations, not objects. Its promise is not of pleasure, but of happiness : happiness as judged from the outside by others. The happiness of being envied is glamour. Being envied is a solitary form of reassurance. It depends precisely upon not sharing your experience with those who envy you. You are observed with interest but you do not observe with interest - if you do, you will become less enviable. ....... The spectator-buyer is meant to envy herself as she will become if she buys the product. She is meant to imagine herself transformed by the product into an object of envy for others, an envy which will then justify her loving herself. One could put this another way : the publicity images steals her love of herself as she is, and offers it back to her for the price of the product.
John Berger (Ways of Seeing)
I feel his gentle hands as he tilts my head to face him. “Look at me,” he insists. His voice is hesitant. “I need for you tell me everything is going to be all right.” I don’t know what he means. I’m back, aren’t I? I shake my head. “Nothing’s wrong.” He searches my face. “You promise?” His eyebrows draw together tightly. “You’re certain?” I push his shoulder so that he has to sit up a little. “Certain about what?” I ask. He withdraws from me, and I’m left wet and well worked. My arms and legs are limp, and I can barely think. “Are you asking me if I’m going to leave again?” He nods. “And other things.” “What other things?” He stands up, and… Goodness, he’s beautiful naked. He’s beautiful with clothes on, too, but naked…my goodness. He’s a work of art. “I want you to fucking marry me, Em,” he says. My heart trips a beat. “Well, that’s the worst proposal ever,” I joke. “Tell me this is real,” he implores me. I take his hand and look into his blue eyes. “It’s as real as it gets,” I say. He pulls me to my feet. “Good.
Tammy Falkner (Smart, Sexy and Secretive (The Reed Brothers, #2))
Saint John Paul II wrote, “when its concepts and conclusions can be integrated into the wider human culture and its concerns for ultimate meaning and value.”7 Religion, too, develops best when its doctrines are not abstract and fixed in an ancient past but integrated into the wider stream of life. Albert Einstein once said that “science without religion is lame and religion without science is blind.”8 So too, John Paul II wrote: “Science can purify religion from error and superstition; religion can purify science from idolatry and false absolutes. Each can draw the other into a wider world, a world in which both can flourish.”9 Teilhard de Chardin saw that dialogue alone between the disciplines is insufficient; what we need is a new synthesis of science and religion, drawing insights from each discipline into a new unity. In a remarkable letter to the director of the Vatican Observatory, John Paul II wrote: The church does not propose that science should become religion or religion science. On the contrary, unity always presupposes the diversity and integrity of its elements. Each of these members should become not less itself but more itself in a dynamic interchange, for a unity in which one of the elements is reduced to the other is destructive, false in its promises of harmony, and ruinous of the integrity of its components. We are asked to become one. We are not asked to become each other. . . . Unity involves the drive of the human mind towards understanding and the desire of the human spirit for love. When human beings seek to understand the multiplicities that surround them, when they seek to make sense of experience, they do so by bringing many factors into a common vision. Understanding is achieved when many data are unified by a common structure. The one illuminates the many: it makes sense of the whole. . . . We move towards unity as we move towards meaning in our lives. Unity is also the consequence of love. If love is genuine, it moves not towards the assimilation of the other but towards union with the other. Human community begins in desire when that union has not been achieved, and it is completed in joy when those who have been apart are now united.10 The words of the late pope highlight the core of catholicity: consciousness of belonging to a whole and unity as a consequence of love.
Ilia Delio (Making All Things New: Catholicity, Cosmology, Consciousness (Catholicity in an Evolving Universe Series))
Free spirits, the ambitious, ex-socialists, drug users, and sexual eccentrics often find an attractive political philosophy in libertarianism, the idea that individual freedom should be the sole rule of ethics and government. Libertarianism offers its believers a clear conscience to do things society presently restrains, like make more money, have more sex, or take more drugs. It promises a consistent formula for ethics, a rigorous framework for policy analysis, a foundation in American history, and the application of capitalist efficiencies to the whole of society. But while it contains substantial grains of truth, as a whole it is a seductive mistake. . . . The most fundamental problem with libertarianism is very simple: freedom, though a good thing, is simply not the only good thing in life. . . . Libertarians try to get around this fact that freedom is not the only good thing by trying to reduce all other goods to it through the concept of choice, claiming that everything that is good is so because we choose to partake of it. Therefore freedom, by giving us choice, supposedly embraces all other goods. But this violates common sense by denying that anything is good by nature, independently of whether we choose it. . . . So even if the libertarian principle of “an it harm none, do as thou wilt,” is true, it does not license the behavior libertarians claim. Consider pornography: libertarians say it should be permitted because if someone doesn’t like it, he can choose not to view it. But what he can’t do is choose not to live in a culture that has been vulgarized by it. . . . There is no need to embrace outright libertarianism just because we want a healthy portion of freedom, and the alternative to libertarianism is not the USSR, it is America’s traditional liberties. . . . Paradoxically, people exercise their freedom not to be libertarians. The political corollary of this is that since no electorate will support libertarianism, a libertarian government could never be achieved democratically but would have to be imposed by some kind of authoritarian state, which rather puts the lie to libertarians’ claim that under any other philosophy, busybodies who claim to know what’s best for other people impose their values on the rest of us. . . . Libertarians are also naïve about the range and perversity of human desires they propose to unleash. They can imagine nothing more threatening than a bit of Sunday-afternoon sadomasochism, followed by some recreational drug use and work on Monday. They assume that if people are given freedom, they will gravitate towards essentially bourgeois lives, but this takes for granted things like the deferral of gratification that were pounded into them as children without their being free to refuse. They forget that for much of the population, preaching maximum freedom merely results in drunkenness, drugs, failure to hold a job, and pregnancy out of wedlock. Society is dependent upon inculcated self-restraint if it is not to slide into barbarism, and libertarians attack this self-restraint. Ironically, this often results in internal restraints being replaced by the external restraints of police and prison, resulting in less freedom, not more. This contempt for self-restraint is emblematic of a deeper problem: libertarianism has a lot to say about freedom but little about learning to handle it. Freedom without judgment is dangerous at best, useless at worst. Yet libertarianism is philosophically incapable of evolving a theory of how to use freedom well because of its root dogma that all free choices are equal, which it cannot abandon except at the cost of admitting that there are other goods than freedom. Conservatives should know better.
Robert Locke
Lynum had plenty of information to share. The FBI's files on Mario Savio, the brilliant philosophy student who was the spokesman for the Free Speech Movement, were especially detailed. Savio had a debilitating stutter when speaking to people in small groups, but when standing before a crowd and condemning his administration's latest injustice he spoke with divine fire. His words had inspired students to stage what was the largest campus protest in American history. Newspapers and magazines depicted him as the archetypal "angry young man," and it was true that he embodied a student movement fueled by anger at injustice, impatience for change, and a burning desire for personal freedom. Hoover ordered his agents to gather intelligence they could use to ruin his reputation or otherwise "neutralize" him, impatiently ordering them to expedite their efforts. Hoover's agents had also compiled a bulging dossier on the man Savio saw as his enemy: Clark Kerr. As campus dissent mounted, Hoover came to blame the university president more than anyone else for not putting an end to it. Kerr had led UC to new academic heights, and he had played a key role in establishing the system that guaranteed all Californians access to higher education, a model adopted nationally and internationally. But in Hoover's eyes, Kerr confused academic freedom with academic license, coddled Communist faculty members, and failed to crack down on "young punks" like Savio. Hoover directed his agents to undermine the esteemed educator in myriad ways. He wanted Kerr removed from his post as university president. As he bluntly put it in a memo to his top aides, Kerr was "no good." Reagan listened intently to Lynum's presentation, but he wanted more--much more. He asked for additional information on Kerr, for reports on liberal members of the Board of Regents who might oppose his policies, and for intelligence reports about any upcoming student protests. Just the week before, he had proposed charging tuition for the first time in the university's history, setting off a new wave of protests up and down the state. He told Lynum he feared subversives and liberals would attempt to misrepresent his efforts to establish fiscal responsibility, and that he hoped the FBI would share information about any upcoming demonstrations against him, whether on campus or at his press conferences. It was Reagan's fear, according to Lynum's subsequent report, "that some of his press conferences could be stacked with 'left wingers' who might make an attempt to embarrass him and the state government." Lynum said he understood his concerns, but following Hoover's instructions he made no promises. Then he and Harter wished the ailing governor a speedy recovery, departed the mansion, slipped into their dark four-door Ford, and drove back to the San Francisco field office, where Lynum sent an urgent report to the director. The bedside meeting was extraordinary, but so was the relationship between Reagan and Hoover. It had begun decades earlier, when the actor became an informer in the FBI's investigation of Hollywood Communists. When Reagan was elected president of the Screen Actors Guild, he secretly continued to help the FBI purge fellow actors from the union's rolls. Reagan's informing proved helpful to the House Un-American Activities Committee as well, since the bureau covertly passed along information that could help HUAC hold the hearings that wracked Hollywood and led to the blacklisting and ruin of many people in the film industry. Reagan took great satisfaction from his work with the FBI, which gave him a sense of security and mission during a period when his marriage to Jane Wyman was failing, his acting career faltering, and his faith in the Democratic Party of his father crumbling. In the following years, Reagan and FBI officials courted each other through a series of confidential contacts. (7-8)
Seth Rosenfeld (Subversives: The FBI's War on Student Radicals, and Reagan's Rise to Power)
The day we were going to meet, I was going to give this to you. I wanted to give you something that conveyed how I felt about you and this was the only thing I had of value." Tears filled Darcy's eyes, but they never left Lucien's gaze. "You were going to give me her necklace?" "It was all I had to give." She was about to throw herself into his arms. Oh my God. What a gesture. .But he stopped her. "I'm not done." "Sorry," Darcy said, but she couldn't manage disgruntled. She was just too damn happy. "I was going to give this to you as a promise, a promise to never hurt you, to never leave you, to always find my way back to you even when we were pissed off and wanted to kill each other. A promise to love only you as long as I drew breath." His hand closed over the necklace. "But you didn't show up." "What?" And then she punched him because he had made her cry again with the most perfect words ever. He laughed before he unhooked the clasp and secured it around her neck. "I was a kid then." He climbed from bed and returned with a small box in his hand. He handed it to her. Her hands shook when she lifted the lid to see the sapphire, the color almost the exact shade of her eyes, surrounded by diamonds. "But the man I've become still loves you as desperately as the kid I was. Marry me, Darcy.
L.A. Fiore (Beautifully Forgotten (Beautifully Damaged, #2))
This book festival...grew to attract thousands of visitors every year. Now they felt like they needed a new purpose. The festival’s continuing existence felt assured. What was it for? What could it do? How could it make itself count? The festival’s leadership reached out to me for advice on these questions. What kind of purpose could be their next great animating force? Someone had the idea that the festival’s purpose could be about stitching together the community. Books were, of course, the medium. But couldn’t an ambitious festival set itself the challenge of making the city more connected? Couldn’t it help turn strong readers into good citizens? That seemed to me a promising direction—a specific, unique, disputable lodestar for a book festival that could guide its construction...We began to brainstorm. I proposed an idea: Instead of starting each session with the books and authors themselves, why not kick things off with a two-minute exercise in which audience members can meaningfully, if briefly, connect with one another? The host could ask three city- or book-related questions, and then ask each member of the audience to turn to a stranger to discuss one of them. What brought you to this city—whether birth or circumstance? What is a book that really affected you as a child? What do you think would make us a better city? Starting a session with these questions would help the audience become aware of one another. It would also break the norm of not speaking to a stranger, and perhaps encourage this kind of behavior to continue as people left the session. And it would activate a group identity—the city’s book lovers—that, in the absence of such questions, tends to stay dormant. As soon as this idea was mentioned, someone in the group sounded a worry. “But I wouldn’t want to take away time from the authors,” the person said. There it was—the real, if unspoken, purpose rousing from its slumber and insisting on its continued primacy. Everyone liked the idea of “book festival as community glue” in theory. But at the first sign of needing to compromise on another thing in order to honor this new something, alarm bells rang. The group wasn’t ready to make the purpose of the book festival the stitching of community if it meant changing the structure of the sessions, or taking time away from something else. Their purpose, whether or not they admitted it, was the promotion of books and reading and the honoring of authors. It bothered them to make an author wait two minutes for citizens to bond. The book festival was doing what many of us do: shaping a gathering according to various unstated motivations, and making half-hearted gestures toward loftier goals.
Priya Parker (The Art of Gathering: How We Meet and Why It Matters)
Paul Graham, computer scientist and cofounder of Y Combinator—the start-up funder of Airbnb, Dropbox, Stripe, and Twitch—encapsulated Ibarra’s tenets in a high school graduation speech he wrote, but never delivered: It might seem that nothing would be easier than deciding what you like, but it turns out to be hard, partly because it’s hard to get an accurate picture of most jobs. . . . Most of the work I’ve done in the last ten years didn’t exist when I was in high school. . . . In such a world it’s not a good idea to have fixed plans. And yet every May, speakers all over the country fire up the Standard Graduation Speech, the theme of which is: don’t give up on your dreams. I know what they mean, but this is a bad way to put it, because it implies you’re supposed to be bound by some plan you made early on. The computer world has a name for this: premature optimization. . . . . . . Instead of working back from a goal, work forward from promising situations. This is what most successful people actually do anyway. In the graduation-speech approach, you decide where you want to be in twenty years, and then ask: what should I do now to get there? I propose instead that you don’t commit to anything in the future, but just look at the options available now, and choose those that will give you the most promising range of options afterward.
David Epstein (Range: Why Generalists Triumph in a Specialized World)
Later that week, I was bicycling down a pavement in the City of London when I passed a company called DLE, which stands for Davis Langdon & Everest. Hmm, I thought, as I skidded to a halt. I took a deep breath and then confidently walked into their ultraclean, ultrasmart reception, and asked to be put through to the CEO’s office, saying it was both urgent and confidential. Once I had the CEO’s secretary on the line, I pleaded with her to help me get just two minutes of her boss’s time. Eventually after three attempts, due to a combination of pity and intrigue, she agreed to ask the CEO to see me for “literally two minutes.” Bingo. I was escorted into a lift and then ushered into the calm of the CEO’s top-floor office. I was very nervous. The two head guys, Paul Morrell and Alastair Collins, came in, looking suspiciously at this scruffy youngster holding a pamphlet. (They later described it as one of the worst-laid-out proposals they had ever seen.) But they both had the grace to listen. By some miracle, they caught the dream and my enthusiasm, and for the sake of £10,000 (which to me was the world, but to them was a marketing punt), they agreed to back my attempt to put the DLE flag on top of the world. I promised an awesome photograph for their boardroom. We stood up, shook hands, and we have remained great friends ever since. I love deals like that.
Bear Grylls (Mud, Sweat and Tears)
Do tell the story,” says Shadow. Cal taps a finger against his cup. “It was almost as if she just appeared in my room one day, out of the blue.” “Oh! Who is she?” cries the duchess. “A lady I met in Renovia,” he answers, as Shadow’s cheeks burn. “In a castle.” “Renovian,” says the duchess with distaste. “What is she like?” “Shadow is about to answer when Cal cuts her off. He looks right at her when he speaks. “She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. Brave, courageous, loyal. In all the kingdoms of Avantine I have never met her equal.” “And how did you propose, brother? Seeing that you had sworn off marriage and children to look after Mother’s estate,” says Shadow softly. “Ah, but she too had vowed not to marry,” Cal answers. “So we promised to be unmarried to each other, but together forever.” “What an atypical arrangement,” says Shadow, not quite meeting his eye. The duchess was fully agitated by now. “Sworn off marriage and children? How strange! What kind of engagement is this?” She takes an aggressive bite of toast. “A promise between two souls,” he says, but he only has eyes for Shadow. “A promise can be broken,” Shadow replies. “Not mine,” he says, so quietly that he’s not sure she can hear him. “Nor mine,” she says, which means that she did. They catch each other’s eye, and Cal wants nothing more than to reach across the table for her hand and to pull her to him. But they are at the Duke and Duchess of Girt’s table, and must conform to propriety.
Melissa de la Cruz (The Queen's Assassin (The Queen's Secret, #1))
1953. It was a world with a war that had just ended and, like a devil that grows a new tail after you’ve chopped one off, another war had begun. With a draft and an enemy just like the one before, only this time there were nuclear weapons; there were veterans’ cemeteries that refused to bury Negro soldiers; there was a government telling you what to look for in a nuclear flash, what kind of structure to hide under should the sirens start wailing—though they must have known that it would have been madness to look or hide or consider anything except lying down and taking your death in with one full breath. There were the subcommittee hearings with Sheedy asking McLain on TV, “Are you a red?” whereupon McLain threw water into his face, and Sheedy threw water back and knocked off his glasses. A world in which TV stations were asked to segregate characters on their shows for Southern viewers, in which all nudes were withdrawn from a San Francisco art show because “local mother Mrs. Hutchins’s sensibilities are shaken to the core;” and beautiful Angel Island became a guided missile station, and a white college student was expelled for proposing to a Negro, and they were rioting against us in Trieste; the Allies freed Trieste not many years ago, and suddenly they hated us … and hovering above all this, every day in the paper, that newsprint visage like the snapshot of a bland Prometheus: Ethel Rosenberg’s face. When would the all clear come? Didn’t somebody promise us an all clear if we were good, and clean, and nice,
Andrew Sean Greer (The Story of a Marriage)
Honestly, sir,” I said, “I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss.” We had excused ourselves to speak privately for a moment, leaving poor Charlie politely rocking on his heels in the foyer. The office was warm and smelled of sage and witch hazel, and the desk was littered with bits of twine and herbs where Jackaby had been preparing fresh wards. Douglas had burrowed into a nest of old receipts on the bookshelf behind us and was sound asleep with his bill tucked back into his wing. I had given up trying to get him to stop napping on the paperwork. “You’re the one who told me that I shouldn’t have to choose between profession and romance,” I said. “I’m not the one making a fuss. I don’t care the least bit about your little foray into . . . romance.” Jackaby pushed the word out of his mouth as though it had been reluctantly clinging to the back of his throat. “If anything, I am concerned that you are choosing to make precisely the choice that I told you you should not make!” “What? Wait a moment. Are you . . . jealous?” “Don’t be asinine! I am not jealous! I am merely . . . protective. And perhaps troubled by your lack of fidelity to your position.” “That is literally the definition of jealous, sir. Oh, for goodness’ sake. I’m not choosing Charlie over you! I’m not going to suddenly stop being your assistant just because I spend time working on another case!” “You might!” he blurted out. He sank down into the chair at his desk. “You just might.” “Why are you acting like this?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Because things change. Because people change. Because . . . because Charlie Barker is going to propose,” he said. He let his hand drop and looked me in the eyes. “Marriage,” he added. “To you.” I blinked. “I miss a social cue or two from time to time, but even I’m not thick enough to believe all that was about analyzing bloodstains together. He has the ring. It’s in his breast pocket right now. He’s attached an absurd level of emotional investment to the thing—I’m surprised it hasn’t burned a hole right through the front of his jacket, the way its aura is glowing. He’s nervous about it. He’s going to propose. Soon, I would guess.” I blinked. The air in front of me wavered like a mirage, and in another moment Jenny had rematerialized. “And if he does,” she said softly, “it will be Abigail’s decision to face, not yours. There are worse fates than to receive a proposal from a handsome young suitor.” She added, turning to me with a grin, “Charlie is a good man.” “Yes, fine! But she has such prodigious potential!” Jackaby lamented. “Having feelings is one thing—I can grudgingly tolerate feelings—but actually getting married? The next thing you know they’ll be wanting to do something rash, like live together ! Miss Rook, you have started something here that I am loath to see you leave unfinished. You’ve started becoming someone here whom I truly want to meet when she is done. Choosing to leave everything you have here to go be a good man’s wife would be such a wretched waste of that promise.” He faltered, looking to Jenny, and then to the floorboards. “On the other hand, you should never have chosen to work for me in the first place. It remains one of your most ill-conceived and reckless decisions to date—and that is saying something, because you also chose to blow up a dragon once.” He sighed. “Jenny is right. You could make a real life with that young man, and you shouldn’t throw that away just to hang about with a fractious bastard and a belligerent duck.” He sagged until his forehead was resting on his desk.
William Ritter (The Dire King (Jackaby, #4))
I perceived how foolish I had been in consenting to take my turn with you in praising love, and saying that I too was a master of the art, when I really had no conception how anything ought to be praised. For in my simplicity I imagined that the topics of praise should be true, and that this being presupposed, out of the true the speaker was to choose the best and set them forth in the best manner. And I felt quite proud, thinking that I knew the nature of true praise, and should speak well. Whereas I now see that the intention was to attribute to Love every species of greatness and glory, whether really belonging to him or not, without regard to truth or falsehood—that was no matter; for the original proposal seems to have been not that each of you should really praise Love, but only that you should appear to praise him. And so you attribute to Love every imaginable form of praise which can be gathered anywhere; and you say that 'he is all this,' and 'the cause of all that,' making him appear the fairest and best of all to those who know him not, for you cannot impose upon those who know him. And a noble and solemn hymn of praise have you rehearsed. But as I misunderstood the nature of the praise when I said that I would take my turn, I must beg to be absolved from the promise which I made in ignorance, and which (as Euripides would say (Eurip. Hyppolytus)) was a promise of the lips and not of the mind. Farewell then to such a strain: for I do not praise in that way; no, indeed, I cannot. But if you like to hear the truth about love, I am ready to speak in my own manner, though I will not make myself ridiculous by entering into any rivalry with you. Say then, Phaedrus, whether you would like to have the truth about love, spoken in any words and in any order which may happen to come into my mind at the time. Will that be agreeable to you? Aristodemus
Plato (Symposium)
The shift in focus served to align the goals of the Civil Rights Movement with key political goals of poor and working-class whites, who were also demanding economic reforms. As the Civil Rights Movement began to evolve into a “Poor People’s Movement,” it promised to address not only black poverty, but white poverty as well—thus raising the specter of a poor and working-class movement that cut across racial lines. Martin Luther King Jr. and other civil rights leaders made it clear that they viewed the eradication of economic inequality as the next front in the “human rights movement” and made great efforts to build multiracial coalitions that sought economic justice for all. Genuine equality for black people, King reasoned, demanded a radical restructuring of society, one that would address the needs of the black and white poor throughout the country. Shortly before his assassination, he envisioned bringing to Washington, D.C., thousands of the nation’s disadvantaged in an interracial alliance that embraced rural and ghetto blacks, Appalachian whites, Mexican Americans, Puerto Ricans, and Native Americans to demand jobs and income—the right to live. In a speech delivered in 1968, King acknowledged there had been some progress for blacks since the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, but insisted that the current challenges required even greater resolve and that the entire nation must be transformed for economic justice to be more than a dream for poor people of all colors. As historian Gerald McKnight observes, “King was proposing nothing less than a radical transformation of the Civil Rights Movement into a populist crusade calling for redistribution of economic and political power. America’s only civil rights leader was now focusing on class issues and was planning to descend on Washington with an army of poor to shake the foundations of the power structure and force the government to respond to the needs of the ignored underclass.”36
Michelle Alexander (The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness)
Modern electrical power distribution technology is largely the fruit of the labors of two men—Thomas Edison and Nikola Tesla. Compared with Edison, Tesla is relatively unknown, yet he invented the alternating electric current generation and distribution system that supplanted Edison's direct current technology and that is the system currently in use today. Tesla also had a vision of delivering electricity to the world that was revolutionary and unique. If his research had come to fruition, the technological landscape would be entirely different than it is today. Power lines and the insulated towers that carry them over thousands of country and city miles would not distract our view. Tesla believed that by using the electrical potential of the Earth, it would be possible to transmit electricity through the Earth and the atmosphere without using wires. With suitable receiving devices, the electricity could be used in remote parts of the planet. Along with the transmission of electricity, Tesla proposed a system of global communication, following an inspired realization that, to electricity, the Earth was nothing more than a small, round metal ball. [...] With $150,000 in financial support from J. Pierpont Morgan and other backers, Tesla built a radio transmission tower at Wardenclyffe, Long Island, that promised—along with other less widely popular benefits—to provide communication to people in the far corners of the world who needed no more than a handheld receiver to utilize it. In 1900, Italian scientist Guglielmo Marconi successfully transmitted the letter "S" from Cornwall, England, to Newfoundland and precluded Tesla's dream of commercial success for transatlantic communication. Because Marconi's equipment was less costly than Tesla's Wardenclyffe tower facility, J. P. Morgan withdrew his support. Moreover, Morgan was not impressed with Tesla's pleas for continuing the research on the wireless transmission of electrical power. Perhaps he and other investors withdrew their support because they were already reaping financial returns from those power systems both in place and under development. After all, it would not have been possible to put a meter on Tesla's technology—so any investor could not charge for the electricity!
Christopher Dunn (The Giza Power Plant: Technologies of Ancient Egypt)
Politicians are the only people in the world who create problems and then campaign against them. Have you ever wondered why, if both the Democrats and Republicans are against deficits, we have deficits? Have you ever wondered why if all politicians are against inflation and high taxes, we have inflation and high taxes? You and I don’t propose a federal budget. The president does. You and I don’t have Constitutional authority to vote on appropriations. The House of Representatives does. You and I don’t write the tax code. Congress does. You and I don’t set fiscal policy. Congress does. You and I don’t control monetary policy. The Federal Reserve Bank does. One hundred senators, 435 congressmen, one president and nine Supreme Court justices — 545 human beings out of 235 million — are directly, legally, morally and individually responsible for the domestic problems that plague this country. I excused the members of the Federal Reserve Board because that problem was created by the Congress. In 1913, Congress delegated its Constitutional duty to provide a sound currency to a federally chartered by private central bank. I exclude all of the special interests and lobbyists for a sound reason. They have no legal authority. They have no ability to coerce a senator, a congressman or a president to do one cotton-picking thing. I don’t care if they offer a politician $1 million in cash. The politician has the power to accept or reject it. No matter what the lobbyist promises, it is the legislators’ responsibility to determine how he votes. Don’t you see the con game that is played on the people by the politicians? Those 545 human beings spend much of their energy convincing you that what they did is not their fault. They cooperate in this common con regardless of party. What separates a politician from a normal human being is an excessive amount of gall. No normal human being would have the gall of Tip O’Neill, who stood up and criticized Ronald Reagan for creating deficits. The president can only propose a budget. He cannot force the Congress to accept it. The Constitution, which is the supreme law of the land, gives sole responsibility to the House of Representatives for originating appropriations and taxes. Those 545 people and they alone are responsible. They and they alone should be held accountable by the people who are their bosses — provided they have the gumption to manage their own employees.
Charley Reese
For a brief moment she considered the unfairness of it all. How short was the time for fun, for pretty clothes, for dancing, for coquetting! Only a few, too few years! Then you married and wore dull-colored dresses and had babies that ruined your waist line and sat in corners at dances with other sober matrons and only emerged to dance with your husband or with old gentlemen who stepped on your feet. If you didn't do these things, the other matrons talked about you and then your reputation was ruined and your family disgraced. It seemed such a terrible waste to spend all your little girlhood learning how to be attractive and how to catch men and then only use the knowledge for a year or two. When she considered her training at the hands of Ellen and Mammy, se knew it had been thorough and good because it had always reaped results. There were set rules to be followed, and if you followed them success crowned your efforts. With old ladies you were sweet and guileless and appeared as simple minded as possible, for old ladies were sharp and they watched girls as jealously as cats, ready to pounce on any indiscretion of tongue or eye. With old gentlemen, a girl was pert and saucy and almost, but not quite, flirtatious, so that the old fools' vanities would be tickled. It made them feel devilish and young and they pinched your cheek and declared you were a minx. And, of course, you always blushed on such occasions, otherwise they would pinch you with more pleasure than was proper and then tell their sons that you were fast. With young girls and young married women, you slopped over with sugar and kissed them every time you met them, even if it was ten times a day. And you put your arms about their waists and suffered them to do the same to you, no matter how much you disliked it. You admired their frocks or their babies indiscriminately and teased about beaux and complimented husbands and giggled modestly and denied you had any charms at all compared with theirs. And, above all, you never said what you really thought about anything, any more than they said what they really thought. Other women's husbands you let severely alone, even if they were your own discarded beaux, and no matter how temptingly attractive they were. If you were too nice to young husbands, their wives said you were fast and you got a bad reputation and never caught any beaux of your own. But with young bachelors-ah, that was a different matter! You could laugh softly at them and when they came flying to see why you laughed, you could refuse to tell them and laugh harder and keep them around indefinitely trying to find out. You could promise, with your eyes, any number of exciting things that would make a man maneuver to get you alone. And, having gotten you alone, you could be very, very hurt or very, very angry when he tried to kiss you. You could make him apologize for being a cur and forgive him so sweetly that he would hang around trying to kiss you a second time. Sometimes, but not often, you did let them kiss you. (Ellen and Mammy had not taught her that but she learned it was effective). Then you cried and declared you didn't know what had come over you and that he couldn't ever respect you again. Then he had to dry your eyes and usually he proposed, to show just how much he did respect you. And there were-Oh, there were so many things to do to bachelors and she knew them all, the nuance of the sidelong glance, the half-smile behind the fan, the swaying of hips so that skirts swung like a bell, the tears, the laughter, the flattery, the sweet sympathy. Oh, all the tricks that never failed to work-except with Ashley.
Margaret Mitchell (Gone with the Wind)
What kind of growth would you like today? Angela Merkel suggested ‘sustained growth’. David Cameron proposed ‘balanced growth’. Barack Obama favoured ‘long-term, lasting growth’. Europe’s José Manuel Barroso was backing ‘smart, sustainable, inclusive, resilient growth’. The World Bank promised ‘inclusive green growth’. Other flavours on offer? Perhaps you’d like it to be equitable, good, greener, low-carbon, responsible or strong. You choose—just so long as you choose growth.
Kate Raworth (Doughnut Economics: Seven Ways to Think Like a 21st-Century Economist)
With varying degrees of subtlety and varying degrees of success, GOP candidates adopted it as their central theme, whether they were running for president or trying to get elected to the local school board. It became the template for Fox News and conservative radio, the foundational text for every think tank and PAC the Koch Brothers financed: The government was taking money, jobs, college slots, and status away from hardworking, deserving people like us and handing it all to people like them—those who didn’t share our values, who didn’t work as hard as we did, the kind of people whose problems were of their own making. The intensity of these convictions put Democrats on the defensive, making leaders less bold about proposing new initiatives, limiting the boundaries of political debate. A deep and suffocating cynicism took hold. Indeed, it became axiomatic among political consultants of both parties that restoring trust in the government or in any of our major institutions was a lost cause, and that the battle between Democrats and Republicans each election cycle now came down to whether America’s squeezed middle class was more likely to identify the wealthy and powerful or the poor and minorities as the reason they weren’t doing better.
Barack Obama (A Promised Land)
It's okay, princess. You don't have to be afraid. I didn't invite you here so I could do anything untoward to you. I promise. See, all I want is to tell you my story. And after you hear it, there's something else I want to say to you. Telling you at the Institute just wasn't going to work, y'know? Besides, I figured showing you my castle would help it sink in that what I'm saying is the truth. Oh! On a side note, this is the guy who brought you here. Good work on the kidnapping." "I'm only too happy to do anything you ask, Asahi." "Okay! What say we get to the meat of things, hm? I challenge you to a Cook-Off. If I win... ... I want you to swear you'll be my bride." "You're challenging me?" "I totally meant to do it the old-fashioned way at first, y'know? But turns out you're way more innocent about romance than I expected. So I figured challenging you to a Cook-Off would get the point across quicker.
Yuto Tsukuda (食戟のソーマ 32 [Shokugeki no Souma 32] (Food Wars: Shokugeki no Soma, #32))
And no amount of “deconstruction” helps here: the ultimate formof idolatry is the deconstructive purifying of this Other, so that all thatremains of the Other is its place, the pure form of Otherness as theMessianic Promise. It is here that we encounter the limit of decon-struction: as Derrida himself has realized in the last two decades, themore radical a deconstruction is, the more it has to rely on its inher-ent undeconstructible condition of deconstruction, the messianicpromise of Justice.This promise is the true Derridean object of belief,and Derrida’s ultimate ethical axiom is that this belief is irreducible,“undeconstructible.” Thus Derrida can indulge in all kinds of para-doxes, claiming, among other things, that it is only atheists who trulypray—precisely by refusing to address God as a positive entity, theysilently address the pure Messianic Otherness. Here one should em-phasize the gap which separates Derrida from the Hegelian tradition:It would be too easy to show that, measured by the failure to establishliberal democracy, the gap between fact and ideal essence does notshow up only in . . . so-called primitive forms of government, theoc-racy and military dictatorship....But this failure and this gap alsocharacterize,a prioriand by definition,all democracies, including theoldest and most stable of so-called Western democracies. At stake hereis the very concept of democracy as concept of a promise that can onlyarise in such a diastema(failure, inadequation, disjunction, disadjust-ment, being “out of joint”).That is why we always propose to speak ofa democracy to come,not of a futuredemocracy in the future present, noteven of a regulating idea, in the Kantian sense, or of a utopia—at leastto the extent that their inaccessibility would still retain the temporalform of a future present,of a future modality of the living present.15Here we have the difference between Hegel and Derrida at its purest:Derrida accepts Hegel’s fundamental lesson that one cannot assert theinnocent ideal against its distorted realization.This holds not only fordemocracy, but also for religion—the gap which separates the idealconcept from its actualization is already inherent to the concept itself:just as Derrida claims that “God already contradicts Himself,” that anypositive conceptual determination of the divine as a pure messianicpromise already betrays it, one should also say that “democracy already139 contradicts itself.” It is also against this background that Derrida elab-orates the mutual implication of religion and radical evil:16radical evil(politically: “totalitarianism”) emerges when religious faith or reason(or democracy itself) is posited in the mode of future present. Against Hegel, however, Derrida insists on the irreducible excess inthe ideal concept which cannot be reduced to the dialectic betweenthe ideal and its actualization: the messianic structure of “to come,”the excess of an abyss which can never be actualized in its determinatecontent. Hegel’s own position here is more intricate than it may ap-pear: his point is not that, through gradual dialectical progress, onecan master the gap between the concept and its actualization, andachieve the concept’s full self-transparency (“Absolute Knowing”).Rather, to put it in speculative terms, his point is to assert a “pure”contradiction which is no longer the contradiction between theundeconstructible pure Otherness and its failed actualizations/determinations, but the thoroughly immanent “contradiction” whichprecedes any Otherness.
Five years later, the legacy of Trump’s presidency and his promises can be addressed. There never was an infrastructure bill. Trump’s budgets consistently proposed cuts to the social programs he vowed not to touch. He did little to combat the opioid epidemic he promised to end, with deaths rising by the end of his tenure. The national debt Trump promised to erase has ballooned by almost $7.8 trillion. Trump’s failed effort to repeal the Affordable Care Act and replace it with nothing remains the nadir of his public approval, surpassing even the days following his incitement of an armed attack on the Capitol building in an effort to overturn his 2020 election loss. Trump has the worst jobs record of any president since 1939, with more than three million lost. He is, in fact, the worst jobs president “god ever created,” despite inheriting an economy that had finally begun to boom in the later years of the Obama administration. The promises of better healthcare didn’t materialize, and the job and wage growth from the economy he inherited were crushed by the pandemic he refused to address. Those were not the promises Trump kept.
Adam Serwer (The Cruelty Is the Point: The Past, Present, and Future of Trump's America)
called Nancy the next day, explaining that my team had drafted a drastically scaled-back healthcare proposal as a fallback but that I wanted to push ahead with passing the Senate bill through the House and needed her support to do it. For the next fifteen minutes, I was subjected to one of Nancy’s patented stream-of-consciousness rants—on why the Senate bill was flawed, why her caucus members were so angry, and why the Senate Democrats were cowardly, shortsighted, and generally incompetent. “So does that mean you’re with me?” I said when she finally paused to catch her breath. “Well, that’s not even a question, Mr. President,” Nancy said impatiently. “We’ve come too far to give up now.” She thought for a moment. Then, as if testing out an argument she’d later use with her caucus, she added, “If we let this go, it would be rewarding the Republicans for acting so terribly, wouldn’t it? We’re not going to give them the satisfaction.
Barack Obama (A Promised Land)
This was not real life – it was agonizing torment. He didn’t have the strength of will to reject me, much less to find a way out of our painful predicament. His tenderness toward me remained constant; at our meetings he was just as affectionate and loving, but I realized how impotent and exhausted he was, even though he assured me of the opposite and often asserted, as if to comfort himself and me, “It can’t get any worse!” We both were aware of how much fate and other people threatened us: he had given in to them, and I could resist no further. We were both weary, he more than I. He didn’t talk about what was happening at home; but from his gloomy look, I could conclude that he was being subjected to persecution or entreaties. Subsequently, I learned that both were applied and tormented him equally. I didn’t want to wrest a confession from him. My own situation became more painful and difficult by the day; I felt, even though I didn’t admit it to myself, that the support I got from his presence was growing noticeably weaker every day and gradually disappearing. Once I even proposed that we end our relationship and give in completely to the people who were trying to keep us apart. This suggestion, made so abruptly and firmly, distressed him and aroused him from the moral lethargy into which he had sunk. All of a sudden he rebelled heatedly, reproached me for my weakness and loss of hope, reminded me of all our promises and oaths, and mercilessly accused me of not loving him any more. This fiery burst of passion totally disarmed me; I was ashamed of my lack of faith, reproached only myself, begged him to forgive me, and swore never to doubt him again.
Evgeniya Tur (Antonina (European Classics))
Promoting that story—a story that fed not trust but resentment—had come to define the modern Republican Party. With varying degrees of subtlety and varying degrees of success, GOP candidates adopted it as their central theme, whether they were running for president or trying to get elected to the local school board. It became the template for Fox News and conservative radio, the foundational text for every think tank and PAC the Koch Brothers financed: The government was taking money, jobs, college slots, and status away from hardworking, deserving people like us and handing it all to people like them—those who didn’t share our values, who didn’t work as hard as we did, the kind of people whose problems were of their own making. The intensity of these convictions put Democrats on the defensive, making leaders less bold about proposing new initiatives, limiting the boundaries of political debate. A deep and suffocating cynicism took hold. Indeed, it became axiomatic among political consultants of both parties that restoring trust in the government or in any of our major institutions was a lost cause, and that the battle between Democrats and Republicans each election cycle now came down to whether America’s squeezed middle class was more likely to identify the wealthy and powerful or the poor and minorities as the reason they weren’t doing better.
Barack Obama (A Promised Land)
Quoting page 63: Business interests not surprisingly supported the [1965 immigration reform] bill as well, but were not a driving force behind it. Because the baby boom was pouring new workers into the economy, and the assault on racial discrimination promised to feed millions of underemployed blacks into the workforce as well, employers did not seem to be looking for workers overseas. Even the growers were quiet. Sponsors of the Bracero farm worker program that had imported hundreds of thousands of mostly Mexican contract workers since 1942—the program averaged 430,000 guestworkers a year from Mexico during its peak 1955-60 years—the growers had been attacked by organized labor, religious, and civil rights organization for exploiting foreign workers and depressing labor standards. The same liberal coalition that backed the civil rights and immigration reforms of 1964-65 had persuaded Congress to terminate the Bracero program in 1964. … The Wall Street Journal, commenting on the conservative nature of the immigration reform, noted on October 4, 1965, that the family preference priorities would ensure that “the new immigration system would not stray radically from the old one.” The historically restrictionist American Legion Magazine agreed, reassured by the promises of continuity. As Senator Edward Kennedy had pledged in the Senate hearings on immigration, first, “Under the proposed bill, the present level of immigration remains substantially the same,” and second, “the ethnic mix of this country will not be upset.
Hugh Davis Graham (Collision Course: The Strange Convergence of Affirmative Action and Immigration Policy in America)
when you dig into the details, each of the options they propose—whether nationalization of the banks, or stretching the definitions of criminal statutes to prosecute banking executives, or simply letting a portion of the banking system collapse so as to avoid moral hazard—would have required a violence to the social order, a wrenching of political and economic norms, that almost certainly would have made things worse. Not worse for the wealthy and powerful, who always have a way of landing on their feet. Worse for the very folks I’d be purporting to save. Best-case scenario, the economy would have taken longer to recover, with more unemployment, more foreclosures, more business closures. Worst-case scenario, we might have tipped into a full-scale depression.
Barack Obama (A Promised Land)
observed that two weeks earlier, when the House Republicans and I had issued sharply contrasting budget proposals, with profound implications for the nation, the news had instead been dominated by talk of my birth certificate. I noted that America faced enormous challenges and big decisions; that we should expect serious debates and sometimes fierce disagreements, because that was how our democracy was supposed to work, and I was certain that we had it in us to shape a better future together.
Barack Obama (A Promised Land)
How do we desire to live out these end times of human existence so that our end might no longer be conditioned by the fear of that end? If it is an end, and if it is true that there is no turning back from this tipping point of extinction time, why are we choosing to live out that end by adapting to the conditions of our own demise, rather than with experimenting with other ways of living less attached to preserving our life as such, and more attuned to the inevitability of death and extinction as realities that can contribute to the intensity of our experience of worldly living for the finite time that we are left with as a species already fated to extinction in the end? These questions are profoundly philosophical. And rightly so! The assault we are witnessing on the political today is so intellectually catastrophic that the only solutions presented to us as viable propose changes so that everything ultimately remains the same. For what are we really conserving when we offer vulnerability to counter vulnerability and insecurity to counter insecurity? This is the real mastery of neoliberalism. For it has led us into a catastrophic quagmire that is fully in keeping with its need to reproduce conditions that are insecure by design; and yet it is managing to repackage itself as the most enlightened way to navigate the uncertain waters, albeit with a captainless crew, which ultimately accepts that the promised land will never be shored.
Julian Reid (Resilient Life: The Art of Living Dangerously)
Our problem, as Mitch McConnell had calculated from the start, was that so long as Republicans uniformly resisted our overtures and raised hell over even the most moderate of proposals, anything we did could be portrayed as partisan, controversial, radical—even illegitimate. In fact, many of our progressive allies believed that we hadn’t been partisan enough. In their view, we’d compromised too much, and by continually chasing the false promise of bipartisanship, we’d not only empowered McConnell and squandered big Democratic majorities; we’d thrown a giant wet blanket over our base—as evidenced by the decision of so many Democrats to not bother to vote in the midterms.
Barack Obama (A Promised Land)
was taking money, jobs, college slots, and status away from hardworking, deserving people like us and handing it all to people like them—those who didn’t share our values, who didn’t work as hard as we did, the kind of people whose problems were of their own making. The intensity of these convictions put Democrats on the defensive, making leaders less bold about proposing new initiatives, limiting the boundaries of political debate. A deep and suffocating cynicism took hold. Indeed, it became axiomatic among political consultants of both parties that restoring trust in the government or in any of our major institutions was a lost cause, and that the battle between Democrats and Republicans each election cycle now came down to whether America’s squeezed middle class was more likely to identify the wealthy and powerful or the poor and minorities as the reason they weren’t doing better. I didn’t want to believe that this was all our politics had to offer.
Barack Obama (A Promised Land)
La Galatea, by Miguel de Cervantes,”24 said the barber. “This Cervantes has been a good friend of mine for many years, and I know that he is better versed in misfortunes than in verses. His book has a certain creativity; it proposes something and concludes nothing. We have to wait for the second part he has promised; perhaps with that addition it will achieve the mercy denied to it now; in the meantime, keep it locked away in your house, my friend.
Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (Don Quixote)
At school, you have geniuses who can only memorize the facts. Reading and memorising books from cover to cover, without any promise of creativity or of proposing your new idea to the world.
Mwanandeke Kindembo
But when it came to actual policy—when I asked GOP leaders what exactly they proposed to help drive down medical costs, protect people with preexisting conditions, and cover thirty million Americans who couldn’t otherwise get insurance—their answers were as threadbare as Chuck Grassley’s had been during his visit to the Oval months before. I’m
Barack Obama (A Promised Land)
But one of the reasons everyone had converged on a cap-and-trade proposal was that it had already been successfully tried—and by a Republican president, no less. Back in 1990, George H. W. Bush’s administration had put a cap-and-trade system in place to curb the sulfur dioxide coming out of factory smokestacks and contributing to acid rain, which was destroying lakes and forests across the East Coast. Despite dire predictions that the measure would lead to factory closures and mass layoffs, the offending companies had quickly figured out cost-efficient ways to retrofit their factories, and within a few years, the problem of acid rain had all but disappeared.
Barack Obama (A Promised Land)
They needed contractors whose reputations were unsullied, builders who were honest and could get the job done as promised. The directors asked five builders to appear before them in Smith’s office in the Biltmore Hotel to discuss the job and to make proposals.
John Tauranac (The Empire State Building: The Making of a Landmark)
Any employee with a promising idea is invited to give a ten-minute pitch to the panel, followed by a fifteen-minute Q&A session. If members agree that the idea has potential, the employee returns for a second round of discussions with a broader group of company experts whose knowledge or support may be important to the success of the proposed venture. Ideas that get a green light often receive funding—on average $100,000, but sometimes as much as $600,000—within eight or ten days. Each project goes through a proof-of-concept review, in which the team must demonstrate that its plan is indeed workable in order to win further funding. This review typically marks the point at which the GameChanger panel helps successful ventures find a permanent home inside Shell.
Daniel M. Cable (Alive at Work: The Neuroscience of Helping Your People Love What They Do)
Did Larry dismiss my proposal in front of the president because he thought it wasn’t fully fleshed out, or was it because I wasn’t assertive enough? Or was it because he doesn’t take women as seriously as men? Did Rahm consult with Axe and not me on that issue because he happened to need a political perspective, or because the two of them have a long-standing relationship? Or is it that he’s not as comfortable with Black people? Should I say something? Am I being overly sensitive?
Barack Obama (A Promised Land)
told the team we were staying the course. But honestly, my decision didn’t have much to do with how lucky I felt. Rahm wasn’t wrong about the risks, and perhaps in a different political environment, on a different issue, I might have accepted his idea of negotiating with the GOP for half a loaf. On this issue, though, I saw no indication that Republican leaders would throw us a lifeline. We were wounded, their base wanted blood, and no matter how modest the reform we proposed, they were sure to find a whole new set of reasons for not working with us. More than that, a scaled-down bill wasn’t going to help millions of people who were desperate, people like Laura Klitzka in Green Bay. The idea of letting them down—of leaving them to fend for themselves because their president hadn’t been sufficiently brave, skilled, or persuasive to cut through the political noise and get what he knew to be the right thing done—was something I couldn’t stomach.
Barack Obama (A Promised Land)
By the time the Copenhagen conference kicked off in December, it seemed that my worst fears were coming to pass. Domestically, we were still waiting for the Senate to schedule a vote on cap-and-trade legislation, and in Europe, the treaty dialogue had hit an early deadlock. We’d sent Hillary and Todd ahead of me to try to drum up support for our proposed interim agreement, and over the phone, they described a chaotic scene, with the Chinese and other BRICS leaders dug in on their position, the Europeans frustrated with both us and the Chinese, the poorer countries clamoring for more financial assistance, Danish and U.N. organizers feeling overwhelmed, and the environmental groups in attendance despairing over what increasingly looked like a dumpster fire. Given the strong odor of imminent failure, not to mention the fact that I was still busy trying to get other critical legislation through Congress before the Christmas recess, Rahm and Axe questioned whether I should even make the trip. Despite my misgivings, I decided that even a slight possibility of corralling other leaders into an international agreement overrode the fallout from a likely failure. To make the trip more palatable, Alyssa Mastromonaco came up with a skinnied-down schedule that had me flying to Copenhagen after a full day in the Oval and spending about ten hours on the ground—just enough time to deliver a speech and conduct a few bilateral meetings with heads of state—before turning around and heading home. Still, it’s fair to say that as I boarded Air Force One for the red-eye across the Atlantic, I was less than enthusiastic. Settling into one of the plane’s fat leather conference-room chairs, I ordered a tumbler of vodka in the hope that it would help me get a few hours’ sleep and watched Marvin fiddle with the controls of the big-screen TV in search of a basketball game. “Has anyone ever considered,” I said, “the amount of carbon dioxide I’m releasing into the atmosphere as a result of these trips to Europe? I’m pretty sure that between the planes, the helicopters, and the motorcades, I’ve got the biggest carbon footprint of any single person on the whole goddamn planet.” “Huh,” Marvin said. “That’s probably right.” He found the game we were looking for, turned up the sound, then added, “You might not want to mention that in your speech tomorrow.
Barack Obama (A Promised Land)
The Nazi formations were trained to vent fury and sow terror—to break up meetings of opponents, to administer beatings, provoke street fights, stage riots, mutilate bodies, kick in skulls. These were the methods by which Hitler proposed to make his nationalism, his socialism, and his promises to every group come true.
Leonard Peikoff (Ominous Parallels)
This middle-grade graphic offering is the first in a proposed series (with a promised second volume entitled Tater Invaders). Writer and illustrator Fremont’s animation background is highly visible here, with fast pacing, quirky characters, and ample silliness. Driven by its jet-fueled plotting, young readers careen from one side-splitting scene to the next as the simply wrought, full-color cartoons rocket sequences along. ...those who want their humor to have a fast and furious velocity should be right at home here, making this perfect for fans of series like Chris Schweizer’s The Creeps or Jarrett J. Krosoczka’s Lunch Lady." -Kirkus Reviews
Kirkus Reviews (Starred)
After Netanyahu was defeated in the 1999 election, his more liberal successor, Ehud Barak, made efforts to establish a broader peace in the Middle East, including outlining a two-state solution that went further than any previous Israeli proposal. Arafat demanded more concessions, however, and talks collapsed in recrimination. Meanwhile, one day in September 2000, Likud party leader Ariel Sharon led a group of Israeli legislators on a deliberately provocative and highly publicized visit to one of Islam’s holiest sites, Jerusalem’s Temple Mount. It was a stunt designed to assert Israel’s claim over the wider territory, one that challenged the leadership of Ehud Barak and enraged Arabs near and far. Four months later, Sharon became Israel’s next prime minister, governing throughout what became known as the Second Intifada: four years of violence between the two sides, marked by tear gas and rubber bullets directed at stone-throwing protesters; Palestinian suicide bombs detonated outside an Israeli nightclub and in buses carrying senior citizens and schoolchildren; deadly IDF retaliatory raids and the indiscriminate arrest of thousands of Palestinians; and Hamas rockets launched from Gaza into Israeli border towns, answered by U.S.-supplied Israeli Apache helicopters leveling entire neighborhoods. Approximately a thousand Israelis and three thousand Palestinians died during this period—including scores of children—and by the time the violence subsided, in 2005, the prospects for resolving the underlying conflict had fundamentally changed. The Bush administration’s focus on Iraq, Afghanistan, and the War on Terror left it little bandwidth to worry about Middle East peace, and while Bush remained officially supportive of a two-state solution, he was reluctant to press Sharon on the issue. Publicly, Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states continued to offer support to the Palestinian cause, but they were increasingly more concerned with limiting Iranian influence and rooting out extremist threats to their own regimes.
Barack Obama (A Promised Land)
Happy Propose Day 2021 - Valentine's Day Week February 7, 2021 – Happy Rose Day. February 8, 2021 – Happy Propose Day. February 9, 2021 – Happy Chocolate Day. February 10, 2021 – Happy Teddy Day. February 11, 2021 – Happy Promise Day. February 12, 2021 – Happy Hug Day. February 13, 2021 – Happy Kiss Day. February 14, 2021 – Happy Valentines Day.
Pradhanmantri Info
Harry Truman proposed a national healthcare system twice, once in 1945 and again as part of his Fair Deal package in 1949, but his appeal for public support was no match for the well-financed PR efforts of the American Medical Association and other industry lobbyists. Opponents didn’t just kill Truman’s effort. They convinced a large swath of the public that “socialized medicine” would lead to rationing, the loss of your family doctor, and the freedoms Americans hold so dear.
Barack Obama (A Promised Land)
And harder economic times strained civic trust. As the U.S. growth rate started to slow in the 1970s—as incomes then stagnated and good jobs declined for those without a college degree, as parents started worrying about their kids doing at least as well as they had done—the scope of people’s concerns narrowed. We became more sensitive to the possibility that someone else was getting something we weren’t and more receptive to the notion that the government couldn’t be trusted to be fair. Promoting that story—a story that fed not trust but resentment—had come to define the modern Republican Party. With varying degrees of subtlety and varying degrees of success, GOP candidates adopted it as their central theme, whether they were running for president or trying to get elected to the local school board. It became the template for Fox News and conservative radio, the foundational text for every think tank and PAC the Koch Brothers financed: The government was taking money, jobs, college slots, and status away from hardworking, deserving people like us and handing it all to people like them—those who didn’t share our values, who didn’t work as hard as we did, the kind of people whose problems were of their own making. The intensity of these convictions put Democrats on the defensive, making leaders less bold about proposing new initiatives, limiting the boundaries of political debate. A deep and suffocating cynicism took hold. Indeed, it became axiomatic among political consultants of both parties that restoring trust in the government or in any of our major institutions was a lost cause, and that the battle between Democrats and Republicans each election cycle now came down to whether America’s squeezed middle class was more likely to identify the wealthy and powerful or the poor and minorities as the reason they weren’t doing better.
Barack Obama (A Promised Land)
Hughes has put forward a number of promising policy proposals to remain competitive. These include collaboration between the U.S. private and public sectors to increase competitiveness; fiscal and monetary reform; technological innovation; the creation of a lifelong learning culture;3 and increased U.S. civilian research and development.
Michael Pillsbury (The Hundred-Year Marathon: China's Secret Strategy to Replace America as the Global Superpower)
There is also one obvious contextual issue for the translation of the verbal form of ḥērem. If the seven nations are to be “destroyed” (v. 2), why should intermarriage need to be prohibited (vv. 3–4)? Since, to put it bluntly, corpses present no temptation to intermarriage, the text surely envisages the continuance of living non-Israelites in close proximity to Israel.61 In the light of this, I propose a reading of Deuteronomy 7:1–5 in which the text is construed as a definitional exposition of ḥērem as an enduring practice for Israel. The basic idea that something that is designated ḥērem is thereby absolutely removed from all use is here given a specific focus. Thus when Israel comes into contact with the seven nations in the promised land and YHWH enables Israel to overcome them, then the requirement is that Israel should practice ḥērem with regard to them (7:1–2a). This means refusing normal practices of treaty making or being moved to pity for the vanquished (7:2b).
R.W.L. Moberly (Old Testament Theology: Reading the Hebrew Bible as Christian Scripture)
We arrived back at the Abbey hand in hand and in perfect amity. In the space of our short walk we had agreed upon a new career and a new style of living. We should embrace simplicity, at least a privileged and eccentric sort of simplicity. We would have rooms for consulting and photographic equipment as well as a sitting room and bedroom with further accommodation for Morag and Aquinas. A pair of guest rooms and another pair for a cook and maid would complete our domestic arrangements. That still left a few rooms unused, but I had little doubt we would eventually put them to good purpose. As to the work Brisbane proposed, I felt a thrill at the prospect of taking on such important and clandestine activities. There was much yet to be discussed, but I felt the new year had dawned full of expectant promise, and already it was being fulfilled.
Deanna Raybourn (Twelfth Night (Lady Julia Grey, #5.6))
The victorious Conservative/Liberal coalition government honoured its promises and proposed making it far harder for libel tourists to use the London courts to punish their critics.
Nick Cohen (You Can't Read This Book: Censorship in an Age of Freedom)
The Price Promise. When you suspect you won't be the low bidder on a proposal, say this: "Pat, just so you understand, we're never the low bidder. In putting this proposal together for you, I'm assuming you're looking for the highest value and not the lowest price. Am I right on that, or will you be forced to choose the least expensive supplier regardless of quality?
Samuel D. Deep (Close the Deal: 120 Checklists for Sales Success)
Many discussions of virtue, and many discussions of faith, begin from where we presently are, as muddled, sinful, half-believing human beings, and explore the ways in which virtue (including "faith" in some sense) can help us move forward to become the people God wants and intends us to become. In this, as in many areas of theological exploration, I find it helpful to start instead from the far end, from the ultimate goal. I propose that we begin with the picture of what God intends us to be, and has promised that we shall be, and to work back from there to where we are. This is, I suppose, rather like the procedure adopted by some management consultants: to ask where the company ought to be twenty years from now, to imagine that we are already at that moment of presumed or anticipated success, and then to ask the question, How did we get here? What steps did we take on the way?
J. Ross Wagner (The Word Leaps the Gap: Essays on Scripture and Theology in Honor of Richard B. Hays)
They proposed to the rebel leaders the issue of tradable Greek Rebellion Bonds on the London stock exchange. The Greeks would promise to repay the bonds, plus interest, if and when they won their independence. Private investors bought bonds to make a profit, or out of sympathy for the Greek cause, or both. The value of Greek Rebellion Bonds rose and fell on the London stock exchange in tempo with military successes and failures on the battlefields of Hellas. The Turks gradually gained the upper hand. With a rebel defeat imminent, the bondholders faced the prospect of losing their trousers. The bondholders’ interest was the national interest, so the British organised an international fleet that, in 1827, sank the main Ottoman flotilla in the Battle of Navarino. After centuries of subjugation, Greece was finally free. But freedom came with a huge debt that the new country had no way of repaying. The Greek economy was mortgaged to British creditors for decades to come. 40.
Yuval Noah Harari (Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind)
During NASA’s first fifty years the agency’s accomplishments were admired globally. Democratic and Republican leaders were generally bipartisan on the future of American spaceflight. The blueprint for the twenty-first century called for sustaining the International Space Station and its fifteen-nation partnership until at least 2020, and for building the space shuttle’s heavy-lift rocket and deep spacecraft successor to enable astronauts to fly beyond the friendly confines of low earth orbit for the first time since Apollo. That deep space ship would fly them again around the moon, then farther out to our solar system’s LaGrange points, and then deeper into space for rendezvous with asteroids and comets, learning how to deal with radiation and other deep space hazards before reaching for Mars or landings on Saturn’s moons. It was the clearest, most reasonable and best cost-achievable goal that NASA had been given since President John F. Kennedy’s historic decision to land astronauts on the lunar surface. Then Barack Obama was elected president. The promising new chief executive gave NASA short shrift, turning the agency’s future over to middle-level bureaucrats with no dreams or vision, bent on slashing existing human spaceflight plans that had their genesis in the Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush, Clinton, and Bush White Houses. From the starting gate, Mr. Obama’s uncaring space team rolled the dice. First they set up a presidential commission designed to find without question we couldn’t afford the already-established spaceflight plans. Thirty to sixty thousand highly skilled jobs went on the chopping block with space towns coast to coast facing 12 percent unemployment. $9.4 billion already spent on heavy-lift rockets and deep space ships was unashamedly flushed down America’s toilet. The fifty-year dream of new frontiers was replaced with the shortsighted obligations of party politics. As 2011 dawned, NASA, one of America’s great science agencies, was effectively defunct. While Congress has so far prohibited the total cancellation of the space agency’s plans to once again fly astronauts beyond low earth orbit, Obama space operatives have systematically used bureaucratic tricks to slow roll them to a crawl. Congress holds the purse strings and spent most of 2010 saying, “Wait just a minute.” Thousands of highly skilled jobs across the economic spectrum have been lost while hundreds of billions in “stimulus” have been spent. As of this writing only Congress can stop the NASA killing. Florida’s senior U.S. Senator Bill Nelson, a Democrat, a former spaceflyer himself, is leading the fight to keep Obama space advisors from walking away from fifty years of national investment, from throwing the final spade of dirt on the memory of some of America’s most admired heroes. Congressional committees have heard from expert after expert that Mr. Obama’s proposal would be devastating. Placing America’s future in space in the hands of the Russians and inexperienced commercial operatives is foolhardy. Space legend John Glenn, a retired Democratic Senator from Ohio, told president Obama that “Retiring the space shuttles before the country has another space ship is folly. It could leave Americans stranded on the International Space Station with only a Russian spacecraft, if working, to get them off.” And Neil Armstrong testified before the Senate’s Commerce, Science & Transportation Committee that “With regard to President Obama’s 2010 plan, I have yet to find a person in NASA, the Defense Department, the Air Force, the National Academies, industry, or academia that had any knowledge of the plan prior to its announcement. Rumors abound that neither the NASA Administrator nor the President’s Science and Technology Advisor were knowledgeable about the plan. Lack of review normally guarantees that there will be overlooked requirements and unwelcome consequences. How could such a chain of events happen?
Alan Shepard (Moon Shot: The Inside Story of America's Race to the Moon)
Femi turned around as he heard the door swing open. Chioma appeared in a white thick towel tied around her sexy body, from above her small and well-rounded breasts. Her artificial hair took refuge under a transparent shower cap. Even with a washed-up makeup-free face, her beauty radiated and penetrated every inch of the tastelessly furnished room. Tension traveled across the floor that separated the pair as they stared hard and awkwardly at each other’s sexy figure. After a momentary loss of consciousness, the two were brought back to their senses. ‘You need to turn around so I can get dressed,’ she purred. As a gentleman would, Femi, without any utterance, quickly turned away without nurturing a second thought. He stared through the window, again, at the police van parked outside. He tried to observe what was going on inside the van, but nothing. His attention was brought back to Chioma as he stared at her from the back of his eyes. He went into whirlwinds of impure thoughts. ‘Femi… Femi… Femi!’ He was brought back to his senses as Chioma repeatedly called out his name. He slowly trained his sight upon Chioma who was dressed in a sexy, semi-transparent, cream nightgown that revealed shades of her nakedness. The nipples of her erect boobies were stiff and swollen. The gown terminated far above her knees, exposing her succulent fresh thighs. Femi’s heart began to race fast. He cleared his throat and quickly caught his breath. ‘Where do I sleep?’ Chioma asked in a half-sexy voice. ‘You have the bed. I’ll have the rug,’ Femi proposed. ‘Are you going to be comfortable sleeping on the rug? We can sleep on the bed together as long as you promise to remain on your side of the bed.’ Femi considered the very tempting offer, but summoned the strength to turn it down. ‘Don’t worry about me. I will be comfortable on the rug. I sometimes sleep on the rug when I’m alone.’ Chioma slipped into the bed in her nightgown and camisole, while Femi strolled to the light switch fastened to the wall.
Nick Nwaogu (The Almost Kiss)
Will you marry me, Genevieve?” He kissed her cheek while Jenny flailed about for a response, any response at all. “The paint fumes are affecting you, Elijah, or you’ve spent too much time imbibing His Grace’s wassail.” “You affect me. I paint better when you’re near, and I was warned about His Grace’s wassail—or Her Grace’s—by the regent himself. Marry me.” She wanted to say yes, even if this declaration was not made out of an excess of romantic love. “If I marry you, I cannot go to Paris.” He leaned back, resting his head against the stones behind them, closing his eyes. “I’ll take you to bloody Paris, and you can appreciate for yourself that the cats have ruined the place. Rome isn’t much better, though I suppose you’ll want to go there and sniff it for yourself too.” He’d promise to take her there, probably to Moscow as well if she asked. “Babies put rather a cramp in one’s travel plans.” Because if she were married to him, and Windham proclivities ran true, babies would follow in the near, middle, and far terms, and all hope of painting professionally would be as dead as her late brothers. “Your siblings all managed to travel with babies. What’s the real reason, Genevieve? We’re compatible in the ways that count, and you’re dying on the vine here, trying to be your parents’ devoted spinster daughter. Marry me.” He was tired, and he felt sorry for her. Of those things, Jenny was certain, but not much else. She hadn’t foreseen an offer from him that would ambush her best intentions and be so bewilderingly hard to refuse. “You need to go home, Elijah. I need to go to Paris. Painting with you has only made me more certain of that. If I capitulate to your proposal, I will regret it for the rest of my days, and you will too. You feel sorry for me, and while I appreciate your sentiments, in Paris I will not be an object of pity.
Grace Burrowes
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Here, the focus is not on the irrevocable covenantal promises so prominent in Genesis but rather on the proven record of fidelity and integrity that rabbinic thought attributes to those national ancestors. Presented with God’s offer, Israel protests her unworthiness—people do not, after all, deserve to have a specific person love them to the point of proposing marriage—
Jon D. Levenson (The Love of God: Divine Gift, Human Gratitude, and Mutual Faithfulness in Judaism (Library of Jewish Ideas Book 8))
Michelle, since the first day I met you I knew you were the one for me. I knew that I would make you my wife. I love waking up to your beautiful face every morning and seeing you before I close my eyes each night. I love you with everything in me, and I promise to be the man that you need for the rest of our lifetime together. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?
Blaque Diamond (His or Her Betrayal?)
And speaking of women lamenting about men who “promise” marriage and then disappear—isn’t it odd that in most societies in the world today, women generally cannot propose marriage? Marriage is such a major step in your life, and yet you cannot take charge of it; it depends on a man asking you. So many women are in long-term relationships and want to get married but have to wait for the man to propose—and often this waiting becomes a performance, sometimes unconscious and sometimes not, of marriage-worthiness. If we apply the first Feminism Tool here, then it makes no sense that a woman who matters equally has to wait for somebody else to initiate what will be a major life change for her.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (Dear Ijeawele, or A Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions)
Your father is waiting, so fly up that mountain and through the alomb. Find Nardukha and tell him I have upheld my end of the bargain. Now it is his turn.” He stares at me, a dangerous light in his eye, and then his gaze travels beyond me, in the direction of the funeral. My hand moves to his muscled forearm, and I squeeze it hard. “ No. ” He sneers, his hand moving quickly to catch mine. He yanks me close, his head bending to look down at me. “Zahra,” he murmurs, his voice like falling rocks. “Why do you care for these humans? For thousands of years they have enslaved you, forced you to bend and bow to their silly whims. They have mistreated you, abused you, and yet you defend them still?” He drops his morning star to cradle my head in his other hand, and he licks his lips. His fangs flash. “Come with me to Ambadya. Be my bride, as you were always meant to be.” Revulsion choking my throat, I pull away, slapping him hard across the jaw, but he barely registers the blow. “I’m not anything to you, Zhian. I never will be. You should have abandoned that notion long ago.” “I did not bargain for your life so that you could play servant to these mortals! My father would have killed you thousands of years ago, like all the other Shaitan, if I hadn’t intervened!” “I never asked you to.” He roars, and I clap my hands over my ears at the terrible sound. Somewhere behind me, a horn blasts twice. “They heard you, you fool!” I snap. “The Eristrati are coming, and their charmers will bottle you up again! Go, go !” He snarls, his hand grabbing for me, but I shift into a tiger and snarl back at him, my hackles on end. Get out of here, Zhian! Go find Nardukha and tell him I have set you free! Now he must free me. The horn blasts again. At last Zhian comes to his senses, and he pulls back, scowling. I’ll be back for you, he promises. And you and I will be joined at last, the jinn prince and his princess, unstoppable and undisputed!
Jessica Khoury (The Forbidden Wish)
Progressivism as a concept has a long history in Europe but was seeded as an official Progressive Party by Theodore Roosevelt in 1912 and is blossoming today in America; it is a convoluted form consisting of socialist goals (welfare and financial redistribution) implemented via largely fascist methods (control of private business) even though in progressivism’s infancy fascist principles were not yet labeled into a separate system. Progressivism is widely misunderstood because the word sounds forward-looking and full of promise, seducing the uninformed into thinking they are supporting a better future when, in fact, the system is as destructive as the other three. Although different in theory, these four are the same in practice, and all can be categorized under the broader concept of collectivism, which proposes that the welfare or “good” of society (the group) should prevail over the rights of the individual—obvious question: who decides what constitutes the “good” of society? Communism
Alexandra York (LYING AS A WAY OF LIFE: Corruption and Collectivism Come of Age in America)
don’t have all day. It’s almost five, and I promised to fetch my fiancée home.” He smirked. “I’ll be renting a carriage from you for a few weeks, until after the wedding.” Ice raced through Curt’s veins. “Fiancée? Wedding?” He cursed himself for sounding like a parrot. “Your friend Faith Lindberg has accepted my proposal. Once we’re wed, we plan to take her old grandpappy and head for Oregon.” The words struck Curt with the force of a blow. “Congratulations. She’s a fine girl. You’re blessed.” His voice sounded as tight as a wagon spring. “Blessed, or lucky. Whatever you want to call it.” “I’ll
Ann Shorey (Where Wildflowers Bloom (Sisters at Heart, #1))
Transparency and the rule of law will be the touchstones of this administration,” President Obama declared back in 2009. Rarely has there been a greater gap between what a politician said and what he did. Indeed, in the mold of Richard Nixon, the White House asserted dubious claims of executive privilege to avoid scrutiny in the Fast and Furious scandal. But Obama is publicly oblivious to the contradictions. At a media awards dinner in March 2016, President Obama scolded the press for enabling a candidate like Donald Trump and suggested it had a greater responsibility than to hand someone a microphone. But as far as Jake Tapper on CNN was concerned “the messenger was a curious one.” He succinctly reviewed the Obama administration’s deplorable record on transparency and openness and concluded: “Maybe, just maybe, your lecturing would be better delivered to your own administration.” Speaking with some passion, Tapper told his viewers: “Many believe that Obama’s call for us to probe and dig deeper and find out more has been made far more difficult by his administration than any in recent decades. A far cry from the assurances he offered when he first took office.” Tapper noted that Obama promised to run the “most transparent administration in history.” “Obama hasn’t delivered,” ProPublica reporter Justin Elliott wrote in the Washington Post in March 2016. “In fact, FOIA has been a disaster under his watch.” Elliott went on to write: Newly uncovered documents (made public only through a FOIA lawsuit) show the Obama administration aggressively lobbying against reforms proposed in Congress. The Associated Press found last year that the administration had set a record for censoring or denying access to information requested under FOIA, and that the backlog of unanswered requests across the government had risen by 55 percent, to more than 200,000. A recent analysis found the Obama administration set a record of failing nearly 130,000 times to respond to public records requests under the Freedom of Information Act.1 Tapper closed his broadcast by quoting former Washington Post executive editor Leonard Downie, who helped break the Watergate scandal and said in 2013 that Obama had the “most aggressive” administration toward the press since Richard Nixon.
Tom Fitton (Clean House: Exposing Our Government's Secrets and Lies)
The Handbook of Near-Death Experiences chronicles fifty-five researchers or teams who have published at least sixty-five studies of over 3,500 NDEs.23 Many have come to the conclusion there is life after death. Alternative explanations have been proposed over the years, but none make as much logical sense of the evidence as the simple conclusion: there is life after death!
John Burke (Imagine Heaven: Near-Death Experiences, God's Promises, and the Exhilarating Future That Awaits You)
The decay of power creates fertile soil for demagogic challengers who exploit disappointments with incumbents, promise change, and take advantage of the bewildering noise created by the proliferation of actors, voices, and proposals. The confusion created by changes that come too fast, that are too disruptive and undercut old certainties and ways of doing things—all by-products of the More, Mobility, and Mentality revolutions—offer great opportunities for leaders with bad ideas.
Moisés Naím (The End of Power)
He proposed a radical experiment to Raffaghello and her colleagues: Take mice with cancer, and starve some of them for as long as they could stand it, and then blitz them with huge doses of chemotherapy drugs, which are (obviously) highly toxic to all cells. “I still remember when I presented the idea to one of her MD collaborators in Italy,” he says. “He looked at me shaking his head, and thinking that was the dumbest idea he had ever heard.” But the results surprised everyone: In some of the experiments, all the pre-starved animals survived the chemo, while all the normally fed ones died. The short-term fasting appeared to have switched the animals’ normal cells into a protected state, while the tumor cells remained more vulnerable to the chemotherapy agents. This “differential stress resistance,” as they termed it, could make the drugs more effective by targeting them at the cancer cells themselves; the cancer cells would be unable to adapt, while the noncancerous cells were in a protected state because of the fasting. So they would suffer less collateral damage. Trying it out in human patients was not easy. Chronic calorie restriction had long been known to protect mammals against cancer—as it had done for the monkeys—but the severe weight loss it entails would seem to rule it out for use by actual cancer patients, who were already fighting to keep their weight. The oncologists were skeptical, and many were not willing to subject their already-suffering patients to yet more suffering. The patients weren’t thrilled at first, either. “Nobody wants to fast, especially people with cancer,” he says. “They’re like, What? You’re telling me not to eat? It just seems weird to people.” Doctors resisted it, too. But Longo and an MD in his lab named Fernando Safdie ultimately found ten late-stage cancer patients who were willing to give it a try on a voluntary basis. They fasted for between two and five days (!) in conjunction with a cycle of chemo, and surprisingly, all ten reported less severe side effects from the treatment after fasting. In some patients, the chemo also appeared to be more effective. It was only a tiny pilot study, but the results were intriguing enough that there are now five larger clinical trials going on, trying short-term fasting in conjunction with chemotherapy in about one hundred patients each, at USC, the Mayo Clinic and in Leiden, the Netherlands, and other locations. Early results have been promising. “The key mechanism, we think, is really what I call death by confusion,” Longo explains.
Bill Gifford (Spring Chicken: Stay Young Forever (or Die Trying))
Democracy is a proposal (rarely realized) about decision making; it has little to do with election campaigns. Its promise is that political decisions be made after, and in the light of, consultation with the governed. This is dependent upon the governed being adequately informed about the issues in question, and upon the decision-makers having the capacity and will to listen and take account of what they have heard. Democracy should not be confused with the ‘freedom' of binary choices, the publication of opinion polls or the crowding of people into statistics. These are its pretences.
John Berger (Hold Everything Dear: Dispatches on Survival and Resistance)
Stop doing this,” she cried fiercely. “You’ll drive me mad. You want to behave as if I belong to you, but I don’t, and I never will. Your worst nightmare is becoming a husband and father, and so you seem determined to form some kind of lesser attachment that I do not want. Even if I were pregnant and you felt duty-bound to propose, I would still refuse you, because I know it would make you as unhappy as it would make me.” Devon’s intensity didn’t lessen, but it changed from anger into something else. He held her with a gaze of hot blue infinity. “What if I said I loved you?” he asked softly. The question drove a spike of pain through her chest. “Don’t.” Her eyes smarted with tears. “You’re not the kind of man who could ever say that and mean it.” “It’s not who I was.” His voice was steady. “But it’s who I am now. You’ve shown me.” For at least a half minute, the only sound was the crackling, shivering fire on the hearth. She didn’t understand what he truly thought or felt. But she would be a fool to believe him. “Devon,” she eventually said, “when it comes to love…neither you nor I can trust your promises.” She couldn’t see through the glittering film of misery, but she was aware of him moving, bending to pick up the coat he had tossed aside, rummaging for something. He came to her, catching her arm lightly in his hand, drawing her to the bed. The mattress was so high that he had to fit his hands around her waist and hoist her upward to sit on it. He set something on her lap. “What is this?” She looked down at a small wooden box. His expression was unfathomable. “A gift for you.” Her sharp tongue got the better of her. “A parting gift?” Devon scowled. “Open it.” Obeying, she lifted the lid. The box was lined with red velvet. Pulling aside a protective layer of cloth, she uncovered a tiny gold pocket watch on a long chain, the casing delicately engraved with flowers and leaves. A glass window on the hinged front cover revealed a white enamel dial and black hour and minute markers. “It belonged to my mother,” she heard Devon say. “It’s the only possession of hers that I have. She never carried it.” Irony edged his voice. “Time was never important to her.
Lisa Kleypas (Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels, #1))
Following the Sandy Hook school shooting in December 2012, the Florida Legislature proposed providing the Broward County school district with an additional $55 million for school safety.4 But, according to the Sun Sentinel, Superintendent Runcie and the school board “hated the idea because control over the money would have gone to a separate taxing district board.” School board member Ann Murray declared, “I’m not willing to give up any authority to anyone.” Her colleague Robin Bartleman worried that the state money could interfere with the soon-to-be-launched PROMISE program. Superintendent Runcie wrote a letter to the legislature saying that he didn’t want the additional money and explaining that he was already moving ahead on a host of school safety initiatives (which he never implemented).5 A
Andrew Pollack (Why Meadow Died: The People and Policies That Created The Parkland Shooter and Endanger America's Students)
The $10 million or so needed for phase III could probably be found lost in the cushions of Pentagon sofas, given that the military’s annual budget approaches $700 billion. The VA has an additional budget of $140 billion. And although the number of veterans receiving treatment for PTSD and other mental disorders reached 1.3 million in 2012, with an average of twenty-two veterans a day committing suicide, the VA has yet to contribute a dime to researching MDMA-assisted psychotherapy. For some years now, even though there has been some enthusiasm for the promise of MDMA therapy among middle-ranking psychiatrists in the VA or DOD, any proposal to contribute to research got kicked upstairs to die. But that may be changing. Rick’s networking recently connected him with another major donor: Richard Rockefeller, the great-grandson of the oil tycoon John D. Rockefeller and cousin of West Virginia senator Jay Rockefeller. Richard, a physician and philanthropist, was introduced to Rick by a mutual friend and soon became a major supporter of MDMA-PTSD research. As the former chair of the U.S. advisory board of Doctors Without Borders, an international association of medical providers who minister to people caught in armed conflicts and other disasters, Rockefeller, who died when his small plane went down on Friday the thirteenth of June 2014, had seen more than his share of suffering resulting from war. As a result, he said, the development of MDMA therapy had become the centerpiece of his extensive philanthropic efforts. “We need to know how to treat the trauma that afflicts most of the world or we’re screwed,” he said.
Tom Shroder (Acid Test: LSD, Ecstasy, and the Power to Heal)
Every time local politicians propose to tax people in order to build a stadium for a billionaire major-league owner, they hold out in their right hand the promise that the increased business activity will more than replace the money spent. But they don’t want you to look at the left hand—the jobs and wealth created by the money that people would have spent if it hadn’t been taxed away for the stadium. •
David Boaz (The Libertarian Mind: A Manifesto for Freedom)
I thought no matter what I did, you would forgive me. I took your love for granted. When you found out, you changed. The way you looked at me… You wouldn’t let me touch you, and no matter what I promised, you didn’t believe me. You wouldn’t let me fix it. I could feel you slipping through my fingers. I was going to propose, but you took off.” He brushed a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. “I know I drove you away. I was so fucking scared that someone had you and would…
Mia Knight (Crime Lord's Captive (Crime Lord, #1))
There's another promising idea about what the dark matter is, which emerges from a different proposal for improving the equations of physics. As we've discussed, QCD is in a profound and literal sense constructed as the embodiment of symmetry. There is an almost perfect match between the observed properties of quarks and gluons and the most general properties allowed by local color symmetry, in the framework of special relativity and quantum mechanics. The only exception is that the established symmetries of QCD fail to forbid one sort of behavior that is not observed to occur. The established symmetries permit a sort of interaction among gluons that would spoil the symmetry of the equations of QCD under a change in the direction of time. Experiments provide severe limits on the possible strength of that interaction. The limits are much more severe than might be expected to arise accidentally. The Core theory does not explain this "coincidence." Roberto Peccei and Helen Quinn found a way to expand the equations that would explain it. Steven Weinberg and I, independently, showed that the expanded equations predict the existence of new, very light, very weakly interacting particles called axions. Axions are also serious candidates to provide the cosmological dark matter. In principle they might be observed in a variety of ways. Though none is easy, the hunt is on. It's also possible that both ideas are right, and both kinds of particles contribute to the total amount of dark matter. Wouldn't that be pretty?
Frank Wilczek (The Lightness of Being: Mass, Ether, and the Unification of Forces)
The season for love is coming around The reason to love is nowhere around. Looking around I see no dearth The longing of love is blossoming around. The roses are there to express the love Love to express so instant love. Proclaim your love with roses so red Passions aflame extinguish them now. Propose to the one before it's late With chocolates, teddies and promises of love. A hug a kiss will make your day Is Valentine day all you have? Love is perennial so let it blossom Let it bloom and spread around. No season for love no reasons to love The greatest is love so love all around.
Amit Abraham
You said that you had a theory about why it wouldn’t have mattered whether or not you’d kept your promise the day you met the asshole for a drink.  I’d like to hear it if you don’t mind.” “You were never going to marry me Anton.  We both know that.  It’s not your style.  Or maybe it is, but you haven’t met the right girl yet.  I don’t know and it doesn’t matter.  I’m not her and never have been.  You proposed because you felt pressured to do so.  If it hadn’t been my mistake with Tony, it would have been something else.  You’d have found a good reason to leave because I’m not perfect and never will be.  You’re a “bottom line” kind of guy, so here it is: I’ve loved you so long I don’t know how to stop.  And every time you break my heart, you break my spirit just a little bit more.  Ten days ago you walked away from me and I gave up.  You wanna know why I didn’t answer my phone?  I had nothing to say.  I quit working, I quit eating and I quit caring.
Jo Willow (Designing Woman (The Sloan Brothers Book 2))
He extended his hands, his brow smoothing and his lips curving into a smile when Abigail placed her hands in his. His hands were warm and comforting, his smile the one she had dreamt of so often. If dreams came true, soon he would say the words she longed to hear: I love you. Ethan’s smile faded slightly as he said, “I know you dislike the West and Army life, but there’s no way around it. I owe the Army another year. Will you wait for me?” Those weren’t the words she had expected. “Wait for what?” Abigail wouldn’t make the mistake of assuming she knew what Ethan meant. Though the look in his eyes, a look that mirrored her own, spoke of love, she needed the words. Why wouldn’t he say them? Ethan rolled his eyes. “There I go again, putting the cart before the horse. It’s your fault, you know. I was never this way before I met you.” He tightened his grip on her hands. “I love you, Abigail. I love your smile, your kind heart, your impulsive nature. I love everything about you.” Ethan paused, and she sensed that the man who had faced death without flinching was afraid of her reaction. “Is it possible that you love me?” Her dream had come true. Her heart overflowing with happiness, Abigail smiled at the man she loved so dearly. She had longed for three special words, and Ethan had given them to her. Not once but three times. And if that weren’t enough, the momentary fear she’d seen had shown her the depth of his love. Ethan loved her. He loved her, and now she could tell him of her own love. “Of course I love you.” Abigail infused her words with every ounce of sincerity she possessed. Ethan must never, ever doubt how much she loved him. “I think I’ve loved you from the first time I saw you, although I didn’t recognize it at the time. I thought God brought me to Wyoming to help Charlotte, but as the weeks passed, it seemed that he had more in store for me. Now I know what it was. He brought me to you.” “And used you to show me what love is.” Ethan rose, tugging Abigail to her feet. “Will you make my life complete? Will you marry me when my time with the Army is ended?” There was only one possible answer. “No.” As Ethan’s eyes widened, Abigail saw disbelief on his face. “You won’t? I don’t understand. If you love me, why won’t you marry me? Don’t you want to?” Again, there was only one answer. “I do want to marry you, Ethan. More than anything else.” His confusion was endearing, and Abigail knew they’d speak of this moment for years to come. “Then why did you refuse me?” “It wasn’t your proposal I refused; it was the timing. Why should we wait a year?” “Because you hate Army life. I don’t want to start our marriage knowing you’re miserable.” “Oh, you silly man.” Abigail smiled to take the sting from her words. “How could I be miserable if I’m with you? The only thing that would make me miserable is being apart. I love you, Ethan. I want to spend the rest of my life as your wife . . . starting now.” Ethan’s smile threatened to split his face. “That’s the Abigail I love: headstrong and impulsive, with a heart that’s bigger than all of Wyoming. I wouldn’t have you any other way.
Amanda Cabot (Summer of Promise (Westward Winds, #1))
Abigail looked up. Though night was falling, they were close enough to one of the street lamps that Abigail could see the question in Ethan’s eyes. He was still waiting for her to confirm that she liked his suggestion. “It’s the perfect answer. I love the idea, and I’m sure Charlotte will too. How can I possibly thank you?” Ethan tilted his head to one side as a mischievous smile curved his lips. “How about another kiss?” 15 A kiss?” Abigail’s eyes widened with something that might have been shock. How stupid could a man be? Ethan could have kicked himself for the words that had come from his mouth, seemingly of their own volition. Abigail was obviously appalled by the idea of another kiss. Justifiably so. Now that he thought about it, he was appalled. Of course she wouldn’t want to kiss him, especially since the kiss he’d envisioned had been far different from the gentle buss on the cheek she’d given him when he agreed to rescue Puddles. The only excuse Ethan could find for suggesting such a ridiculous thing was that his brain must have taken a leave of absence. That was no excuse at all, especially since his foolishness had upset Abigail. What he needed to do was find a way to ease her discomfort. “It was a joke, Abigail,” he said, hoping she’d accept the implied apology. “I was teasing.” “Oh.” Her expression changed. Surely it wasn’t disappointment that he saw reflected from her eyes. It couldn’t be, for he knew she hadn’t wanted to kiss him. As if to prove that, the furrows between her eyes vanished as she said, “A joke. Of course. I understand.” The awkward moment was past. There was no reason to dwell on it, no reason to even remember how silly he’d been to propose a kiss. And yet that night when Ethan dreamed, it was of a woman kissing him, a woman with Abigail’s hazel eyes and a smile that could light the evening sky.
Amanda Cabot (Summer of Promise (Westward Winds, #1))
As his littermates scampered away, the smallest one, realizing he’d been abandoned, tried to catch up with them. But his legs were too short, and all he managed to do was stumble into a puddle, turning his once tan chest and legs brown. Abigail smiled as the puppy, apparently enjoying the sensation of muddy water on his legs, flopped onto his back and began to roll in the mud. “Muddy paws?” Ethan chuckled. “This one looks like he has muddy everything.” The pup rose and shook his fur, sending droplets of mud toward Abigail before he plopped down in front of her and looked up with the biggest brown eyes she’d ever seen on a dog. Right now those eyes were beseeching Abigail, tugging at her heart. “Oh, Ethan, he’s so cute. You can’t drown him.” “What do you propose?
Amanda Cabot (Summer of Promise (Westward Winds, #1))
Presidents may run for office on ideological platforms and promised policies, but their presidency is actually defined by the encounter between fortune and virtue, between the improbable and the unexpected—the thing that neither their ideology nor their proposals prepared them for—and their response. The president’s job is to anticipate what will happen, minimize the unpredictability, then respond to the unexpected with cunning and power.
George Friedman (The Next Decade: What the World Will Look Like)
Nathaniel said, “Allow me to help.” She kept pacing. “What can you do?” “I can marry you.” She whirled, incredulous. “Marry me?” He flinched as though she’d slapped him. “I know it was Lewis you wanted. If that is still the case, I will do everything in my power to convince him. In fact, he may be more amenable, now he knows of your inheritance.” She frowned. “I don’t want to marry Lewis. How would marrying anybody help my sister?” “If Marcus has proposed to your sister to force you from hiding . . . and still hopes to marry you for your inheritance . . .” “My birthday is only two weeks away. If I can remain unwed until I receive my inheritance I will grant Caroline a generous dowry and she can marry someone worthy of her. And I can marry, or not, as I wish.” He shook his head. “You have been living under our roof for months now, Margaret. A gentleman in such a situation, unusual as this one is, has a certain duty, a certain obligation.” A chill ran through her. She lifted her chin. “I assure you there is no obligation, Mr. Upchurch. You and your brother did not know I was here, though I suspect your sister knew all along. You need not worry. You are under no compunction to uphold my honor, such as it is after all this.” “It would be no burden, Miss Macy, I promise you.” He took a step nearer, a grin touching his mouth. “In fact, I can think of no other woman I would rather be shackled to.” She stiffened, anger flaring. “I don’t want you to be shackled to me. I don’t want anyone to have to marry me. Not Marcus Benton, not Lewis, and not you.” “Margaret, I was only joking. Don’t—” She whipped opened the door and whispered harshly, “Now I must ask you to leave, sir, this very moment.” Nathaniel hesitated. Then, with a look of pained regret, he complied.
Julie Klassen (The Maid of Fairbourne Hall)
You poor, dear child,” Mrs. Wilkes said, after several restorative sips. “I can only begin to image the insults and humiliations you have been forced to endure, living among those…savages.” Tipsy, Livy wondered if she was referring to Lawson or the Gunns. “I can’t change what you have been through, but I can promise you this. You will never have to see the Gunns again. They were intolerably negligent in placing you in a situation where a savage could propose to make you his…his…wife.” Mrs. Wilkes mouth pursed, as if she’d gone for the snuff and mistakenly taken alum. She lay a hand over her heart. “You needn’t fear going back. You may stay with us for as long as you wish. I swear to you, there is nothing on heaven or earth that could ever persuade me to return you to that nest of vipers.” Mr. Wilkes came in carrying a shawl. “When I think of a child of her caliber being forced into such degraded association with those red instruments of Satan, it makes my blood boil.” He draped the shawl around Livy’s shoulders and patted her kindly. “Mr. Lawson may be a rascal,” Mr. Wilkes continued, “but we owe him a debt of gratitude for rescuing you. I cannot believe one of those creatures actually proposed marriage! To be honest, the mere thought of you with him makes me ill. You were fortunate, Deliverance. I mean to say, I am assuming that the savage did not actually act on his evil intentions?” Livy flinched at his words. Mrs. Wilkes looked sympathetic, but her eyes were bright with curiosity. Every grown person Livy’d been near lately seemed to have their minds stuck on Sodom and Gomorrah. They made her feel dirty. And they wanted to keep her here. To rescue her form Rising Hawk. From Rising Hawk! She looked into the fire. There were bright blue and white tiles the entire length of the hearth. A silver tea service sparkled on a walnut sideboard. This room, with its warm fire and pretty things, had seemed like a haven, peaceful and civilized, up to this moment. They watched her, her head down, studying the tabletop. Suddenly she stood up. “Mr. Wilkes, Mrs. Wilkes. You have both been so kind to me and Ephraim that I feel I owe you the truth.” She paused and put a corner of the shawl to her eyes. “The fact is, me and the Indian have been sinning together for, oh, I don’t know how long. And now here I am, a month gone already and nearly a widow before I’m married.” Mrs. Wilkes fainted with a loud thud. Livy took a certain satisfaction in the sound.
Betsy Urban (Waiting for Deliverance)
THAT SPRING WASHINGTON received a letter from Lafayette, who had long since returned to France. Now that peace was looking like a certainty, he had a “wild scheme” to propose: the two of them should buy a small plantation together and “try the experiment to free the Negroes and use them only as tenants. Such an example as yours might render it a general practice.” Lafayette’s time in Virginia had given him a firsthand knowledge of the horrifying realities of southern slavery. He still loved Washington like a father, but something needed to be done to ensure that the promise of the Declaration of Independence—“liberty and justice for all”—applied to all Americans, no matter what their skin color.
Nathaniel Philbrick (In the Hurricane's Eye: The Genius of George Washington and the Victory at Yorktown)
We are already bound together in the way of my people. Will you speak vows in the way of yours?” Her blue eyes widened with shock, eyes a man could drown in. Eyes a man could spend eternity staring into. A small, very male smile tugged at his mouth. He had succeeded in shocking her. “Mikhail, are you asking me to marry you?” “I am not really certain I know how it is done. Should I be on my knee?” He was grinning openly at her. “You’re proposing to me with a carload of assassins approaching?” “Potential assassins.” He gave her a small, heart-wrenching smile. “Say yes. You know you cannot possibly resist me. Say yes.” “After you made me drink that disgusting apple juice? You set your wolves on me, Mikhail. I know there’s a long list of sins I should be reciting.” Her eyes were sparkling with mischief. He pulled her into his arms, against the heavy muscles of his chest, fitting her neatly into the cradle of his hips. “I can see this is going to take some heavy persuasion.” His lips moved over her face like a brand, fastened on her mouth, and rocked the very earth. “No one should be able to kiss like you do,” Raven whispered. He kissed her again, tantalizingly sweet, his tongue sliding over hers sensuously, pure magic, pure promise. “Say yes, Raven. Feel how much I need you.” Mikhail dragged her closer so the hard evidence of his desire was clearly imprinted against her flat stomach. Taking her hand in his, he brought it down to cover the aching bulge and rubbed her palm slowly back and forth across him, tormenting both of them. He opened his mind so she could feel the sharpness of his hunger, the edge to his passion, the flood of warmth and love enveloping her, them. Say yes, Raven; he whispered it in her head, needing her to want him back, to accept him, good or bad. “You take such unfair advantage.” Her reply held a trace of amusement, was warm honey spilling over with love.
Christine Feehan (Dark Prince (Dark, #1))
The guarantee part of the proposal is the promise, the assurance, that a basic job offer will always be available to those who seek it. The job part deals with another paradox, namely that while paid work in the modern world is life-defining and indispensable, it has, for many, become elusive, onerous, and punitive. The job component in the Job Guarantee aims to change all that by establishing a decent, living-wage job as a standard for all jobs in the economy, while paving the way for the transformation of public policy, the nature of the work experience, and the meaning of work itself.
Pavlina R. Tcherneva (The Case for a Job Guarantee)
I'm thinking you should always go topless." "That'll perk things up at work," Min said, and then remembered that there was nothing perky about her. "I meant—" "Not in public, dummy," Cal said. "Just at home. We'll put it in the wedding vows. You can promise to love, honor, cherish, and be naked from the waist up every night." "Married?" Min said, trying to sit up. "Well, of course, married," Cal said, watching her with interest. "You think I'd tie up somebody I wasn't serious about?" "You haven't asked," Min said, yanking on the belt. "Will you marry me?" Cal said, still watching her breasts. "No," Min said, torn between love and murder. "Right," Cal said. "Because years from now when Harry asks how I proposed, you don't want to say, 'Well, he tied me to the couch and ripped off my nightgown and ate doughnuts off my breasts and then he asked me.
Jennifer Crusie (Bet Me)
He pulled out the little pink pig and handed him to her with an identical card to the ones she’d been carrying. She opened the card and read it out loud. ‘Pooh, promise you won’t forget about me, ever. Not even when I’m a hundred.’ [Pooh thought for a little.] ‘How old shall I be then?’ ‘Ninety-nine.’ [Pooh nodded.] ‘I promise. If you live to be 100, I want to live to be 100 minus one day so I never have to live without you.’ “Promise me,” Noah said. Arie looked up. “Promise me that you will allow me to live to be one hundred minus one day with you so that I never have to live without you.” Arie looked down at the card, and then down at Piglet, and then at Noah. And then at Piglet again. What is tied to Piglet’s bow? “Oh my goodness,” she gasped. “Marry me, Arie. I’m asking you again. Please. Be my wife.
N.A. Leigh (Mr. Hinkle's Verum Ink: the navy blue book (Mr. Hinkle's Verium Ink 1))
She was cast in the egodeflating role she had always played, and her interest in radio was at a low ebb. Then she met CBS boss William Paley at a nightclub. Paley proposed that she star in a prospective comedy series, to be called Our Miss Brooks, but the script she received failed to convince her. The promised rewrite, by Al Lewis and Joe Quillan, was more to her liking: the character was perhaps settling around Arden’s real personality by then. Lewis would later put her in a comedy league with Groucho Marx, calling her the only woman in show business capable of achieving that kind of humor. She agreed to do the show if the eight weeks could be transcribed, allowing her to get away with her children for the summer. The network ban against transcriptions had already begun crumbling, so Our Miss Brooks premiered in July 1948 by transcription.
John Dunning (On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio)
I know you're meant for me. I know you're the other half of my soul. We are meant to be together. I know in one year we will be married, and I promise to spend the rest of my life loving you, taking care of and standing beside you. Say yes.
Kindle Alexander (Always (Always & Forever #1))
The Promise The prophecy on the suffering Servant begins with a promise in Isaiah 52:13 (NASB): “Behold, My servant will prosper.” The entire mission of the suffering Servant begins with a promise direct from God himself. Because of God’s promise, the work of the suffering Servant will accomplish its purpose. It cannot fail. In Isaiah 52–53 God does not present a tentative proposal for his people. He thunders forth from the courts of heaven a promise for his covenant people. He promises a Servant who will save, and he promises the prosperity of his Servant’s work.
R. Albert Mohler Jr. (The Apostles' Creed: Discovering Authentic Christianity in an Age of Counterfeits)
I'll drive." Sam held out his hand. "It's my car. I'll drive." Sam bristled. "I'm the man." "So?" "The man drives. That's a man's job. Just like fixing things, building things, taking out the trash, proposing marriage, mowing the lawn, barbecuing, carrying heavy furniture..." Layla snorted. "Wake up. It's not the '50's anymore. No one drives this woman's Jeep. I can build anything from IKEA without help, and if I ever do find someone I want to marry, I'll ask the dude myself. However, if you want to take out the trash or fix the leaky faucet in the restroom, knock yourself out." "How about Layla takes her Jeep and Sam takes his car and I promise not to tell anyone that you two single-handedly destroyed the environment?" Daisy suggested. "That's ridiculous," Sam snapped. "We're going to the same place for the same reason. We only need one vehicle." "This is my gig," Layla said. "I'm driving my car. If you can't get over your traditional sexist patriarchal controlling self, then I'll meet you there.
Sara Desai (The Marriage Game)
Few Americans can claim to know China as well as Ambassador Stapleton Roy. Born in China, a fluent Mandarin speaker, Roy also served as the American ambassador to China from 1991 to 1995 and has stayed exceptionally well informed on US-China relations. He explained what happened: In a joint press conference with President Obama on September 25, 2015, Xi Jinping had proposed a more reasonable approach on the South China Sea. Xi had supported full and effective implementation of the 2002 Declaration on the Conduct of Parties in the South China Sea, signed by China and all ten ASEAN members; had called for early conclusion of the China-ASEAN consultations on a Code of Conduct for the South China Sea; and had added that China had no intention of militarizing the Spratlys, where it had engaged in massive reclamation work on the reefs and shoals it occupied. Roy said that Obama missed an opportunity to capitalize on this reasonable proposal. Instead, the US Navy stepped up its naval patrols. China responded by proceeding with militarization. In short, Xi did not renege on a promise. His offer was effectively spurned by the US Navy. The big question is how an untruth becomes accepted as a fact by well-informed, thoughtful Western elites.
Kishore Mahbubani (Has China Won?: The Chinese Challenge to American Primacy)
He’ll be in a day camp for the first three weeks, then nothing. My mind keeps returning to the Middle East. It’s almost two months since I promised to send printed catalogues. I’ve done nothing. Every time I think about it, my will to invest in those relationships vanishes. My confidence that I can manage a long-term, expensive project has disappeared. And if I devote a lot of hours to designing and printing a catalogue, I’ll be ignoring other, more promising work. I don’t want to waste money on brochures that won’t produce income until some point far in the future. And with what I’ve learned from Bob Waks, I have even more reason to give up. I can’t see how we could interact with Middle Eastern clients in the manner that Bob suggests. It’s going to be very difficult to avoid sending complete proposals, and it will be almost impossible to do Glance sessions. The time difference is too much. I decide to drop the whole thing. I talk myself into this by arguing that I don’t think anyone in Kuwait or Dubai will be terribly upset. They weren’t pining for my presence, and they won’t miss me. In the back of my mind, though, I have nagging doubts. It’s hard for me to walk away from the potential for business, no matter how unpromising.
Paul Downs (Boss Life: Surviving My Own Small Business)
Quoting page 63: The Wall Street Journal, commenting on the conservative nature of the immigration reform, noted on October 4, 1965, that the family preference priorities would ensure that “the new immigration system would not stray radically from the old one.” The historically restrictionist American Legion Magazine agreed, reassured by the promises of continuity. As Senator Edward Kennedy had pledged in the Senate hearings on immigration, first, “Under the proposed bill, the present level of immigration remains substantially the same,” and second, “the ethnic mix of this country will not be upset.
Hugh Davis Graham (Collision Course: The Strange Convergence of Affirmative Action and Immigration Policy in America)
Jefferson did try. “Nothing shall be spared on my part to obliterate the traces of party and consolidate the nation, if it can be done without abandonment of principle,” he said in March 1801.8 Thirty-four months later, after the partisan wars of his first term, he struck more practical notes, accepting the world as it was. “The attempt at reconciliation was honorably pursued by us for a year or two and spurned by them,” he said.9 As Jefferson well knew, in practice the best he could hope for was a truce between himself and his opponents, not a permanent peace. Political divisions were intrinsic; what mattered most was how a president managed those divisions. Jefferson’s strategy was sound. Believing in the promise of democratic republicanism and in his own capacity for transformative leadership, he took a broad view: “There is nothing to which a nation is not equal where it pours all its energies and zeal into the hands of those to whom they confide the direction of their force.”10 He proposed a covenant: Let us meet the political challenges of the country together and try to restrain the passions that led to the extremist, apocalyptic rhetoric of what Jefferson called the “gloomy days of terrorism” of the 1790s, and perhaps politics could become a means of progress, not simply a source of conflict.11 The prevailing Federalist view was that such a covenant was lovely to talk about but impossible to bring into being. John Quincy Adams was right when he told his diary that political war was to be the rule, not the exception, in American life. “The country is so totally given up to the spirit of party, that not to follow blindfold the one or the other is an inexpiable offense,” Adams wrote during Jefferson’s first term.12
Jon Meacham (Thomas Jefferson: The Art of Power)
I like ‘just’ you, Mackenzie. At least what I’ve seen and heard so far. We’ll go out and see what happens. I promise I won’t propose tomorrow if you won’t jump my bones in the parking lot. Deal?” Mackenzie
Susan Stoker (Justice for Mackenzie (Badge of Honor: Texas Heroes, #1))
The often-told tale was that the remarkable awakening of antigovernment rage that spread across the country in 2009 was triggered by an unplanned outburst on live television from Rick Santelli, a former futures trader, who was a regular on-air contributor to the CNBC business news network. The date of Santelli’s tirade was notably early in Obama’s presidency, February 19, 2009, less than one month after Obama was sworn in as president. At the time, Obama enjoyed approval ratings of over 60 percent. A year later, a congressman championing Obama’s health-care proposal would be spat on, and two years later his party would lose control of the House of Representatives, effectively ending his ability to enact “change you can believe in,” as promised in his campaign. Arguably, the precipitous downhill slide began that day.
Jane Mayer (Dark Money: The Hidden History of the Billionaires Behind the Rise of the Radical Right)
On October 26, 1963, Nikita Khrushchev contacted President Kennedy and offered to remove the missiles from Cuba in exchange for a promise that the United States would not invade the Island Nation. A day later on October 27th, Khrushchev sent a letter proposing that the Soviet Union would dismantle their missiles in Cuba, if the Americans reciprocated by removing their missile installations in Turkey. Although the cold war was far from over, both sides knowing how close they came from an all-out conflict, had a “hot line” installed between Washington and Moscow, hoping to prevent any similar situations in the future. The hot line is sometimes called the red telephone, even though it wasn’t even a telephone, nor was it red. The first connection was a teletype machine, after which a fax machine was used. In 1986, the hotline became a computer link and messages are now sent by email.
Hank Bracker
I don’t understand the Italian, but it’s obvious that they’re all fighting over him. The principessa wants Luca to have dinner here; Catia wants him to come back with us, as do all the other girls but Elisa, who wants him to carry her off in his car, treat her to a romantic dinner, and then, probably, propose. And Luca knows all of this; I glance at him, and see a complacent expression on his face as he takes his mother’s hand and kisses it, a gesture that brings more sighs from Kelly, Kendra, and Paige. Well, I’m never going to be like that with him, I promise myself. I take a step back till I’m leaning against the side of an armchair, watching the scene play out as if it had nothing to do with me. I’m never going to be part of a group of girls all vying to catch his attention, jumping up and down, practically screaming: Look at me, Luca! Look at me! The more I see that, the farther I’ll walk away from it. If Luca wants me, he’ll have to come and get me. And if he doesn’t--his oss. Brave words, I think sarcastically: even my vin santo tastes a little bitter going down, probably from the acid at the back of my throat, watching Luca flirt with the girls as he kisses them all goodbye on each cheek. Let’s see if you can stick to those brave words, Violet.
Lauren Henderson (Flirting in Italian (Flirting in Italian #1))
My lover looked me in the eyes before responding, “I’m happy being with you, so don’t second guess what I want or don’t want. You are the person I love; I don’t need to have sex with another unless E.R.O.S. duty calls for me to do so. If we have liaisons, we are in it together. Therefore, stop creating alone time for me with Sam. “Don’t get me wrong, I like Sam and he is a great guy. Maybe, if fate crosses our paths in the distant future, I might consider having a relationship with him. But for the present moment, I am yours unless you are not agreeable to my proposal.” I couldn’t disagree with my lover because I loved him as much as he loved me, so I promised Andy I would let life proceed as he meant it to, and would not create situations for him and Sam to be alone again.
Young (Unbridled (A Harem Boy's Saga, #2))
Just wait a month, and this meadow will be carpeted in bluebonnets,” Sarah promised him. “And the next month, gold and red flowers, Indian blanket, Mexican hat, primroses—Nolan, you can’t believe how beautiful it is!” “I can’t believe how beautiful you are, Sarah,” he said, cupping her cheek. “And as I said in church, how kind, how brave…” “Brave? Me? I’m not brave at all,” she protested. “Milly would tell you I’ve been a quiet little mouse all my life. She’s been the brave one, the leader.” “I don’t think she’d say that anymore, Nurse Sarah. In fact, I think you have all the qualities to make an excellent doctor’s wife.” When his words hit her, she gaped at him. “Dr. Nolan Walker! Did you just propose to me, on our very first outing together?” He grinned. “Ayuh,” he said, in a deliberately exaggerated “Downeast” accent. “We men of Maine don’t waste time. Am I going too fast, sweetheart? I promise you’ll get your courtship, never fear, but you and I both know I’ve been courting you every time we met—as much as you’d let me, anyway—ever since Founder’s Day last fall.” She considered his words. “I guess that’s true. All right, as long as you don’t stint on the courtship—we Texas ladies set great store by courting, I’ll have you know—I agree.” “Did you just say yes, Miss Sarah, on our very first outing as a courting couple?” She nodded, blushing a rosy pink that made her even lovelier still. He couldn’t wait any longer, and lowered his lips to hers.
Laurie Kingery (The Doctor Takes a Wife (Brides of Simpson Creek, #2))
I’ve missed you,” he said hoarsely when they broke apart, gasping for breath. “More than I thought possible. “Me too.” She held on to him just as tightly. “I really do love you, Cooper. And I want to be here. In fact, I can honestly say, standing here right now, I can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.” He brushed the damp from her cheeks. “That’s good. Because I don’t know that I could let you go.” He pulled her back into his arms. “But yes to the rest.” “What rest?” He looked down at her. “If--when--you need to go off, fill your soul, feel different earth under your feet, I’ll do my best to handle missing you. As long as you promise to always come back.” She nodded, sniffling. “Like a boomerang; you won’t be able to get rid of me.” He chuckled, still getting past being stunned, then kissed her again, and this time the relief, the joy, started to shift to that all-consuming hunger that was always there for them and, he suspected, always would be. With that in mind, he went to scoop her up, thinking his family and hers would have to understand if they needed a little time alone, when she pressed her palms against his chest. “Wait. I have one more thing I have to ask.” “Anything.” She smiled. “Is that marriage proposal still on the table?” He grinned. Just when he thought his heart couldn’t get any fuller. “Why, Starfish, I thought you’d never ask.
Donna Kauffman (Starfish Moon (Brides of Blueberry Cove, #3))
Victor, Andy, and I sat waiting at the café within Miss Selfridge (the young fashion section of the department store) for our entourage to finish shopping. I took this opportunity to seek their advice.               “Tad proposed to me at the Oriental Club,” I declared nonchalantly.               “I know,” came Andy’s reply.               Boggled by his response, I questioned, “Why didn’t you ask me about it?” “I was waiting for you to tell me,” he answered. “He also gave you a key to his town house.” Shocked by his knowingness, I exclaimed, “How did you know?” “I know more about you than you,” he teased. Both men laughed at me. I looked at my teacher, confused. “You knew, too?” “Of course I did. I was present when Tad sought your Valet’s permission.” “Why did Tad come to you for permission?” I questioned. Victor promulgated, “Because he’s an honourable gentleman and a true romantic.” Andy nodded in agreement. My chaperone vociferated, “I’m your guardian, so he came to me to ask for your hand.” “Ask for my hand!” I exclaimed. “I’m not planning to marry him…” Before I could continue, my Valet pronounced, “Then it’s settled. You don’t want to be his property.” “I’m nobody’s property but my own!” I cried. The men burst into mirth. “I’m glad you are being sensible. In the Arab culture, being a kept boy is similar to being in a heterosexual marriage. The dominant partner has total control of his ‘wife boy,’” Triqueros commented. “I’m nobody’s ‘wife boy’!” I burst out. “And definitely not Tad’s.” “Very well then. It’s settled that you are not taking up his offer. I’ll convey your sentiments,” Andy finalized. Case closed. “I can tell him myself. I don’t need you to do it for me,” I voiced. Victor cited, “Since you are Andy’s charge, it is appropriate for him to act on your behalf to inform the intended of your decision. It’s customary protocol, as a man asks the father for his daughter’s hand.” I argued, “But I’m not a girl. I’m a boy who can make his own decisions. I am responsible for me!” Both mentors laughed again. “Are you sure about that?” my lover ruffled my hair and sniggered. “You could have fooled me.” My chaperone and I started a playful tug-of-war until my judicious professor put a stop to our silliness. “Young, stop this absurdity,” Triqueros commanded. “As I’d promised, I’m giving you a short lesson about the ‘real’ England. The existing British monarchy.” His words perked my attention.
Young (Turpitude (A Harem Boy's Saga Book 4))
and about the same time an invitation from the Commissioners in Boston of the “Society in London for Propagating the Gospel in New England and the parts adjacent” to become their missionary to the Indians, who then formed a large part of the Stockbridge settlement. After acquainting himself by a residence of several months in Stockbridge with the conditions of the work, and after receiving satisfactory assurances, in a personal interview with the Governor, with regard to the conduct of the Indian mission, he accepted both of these proposals. He had scarcely done so when he received a call, with the promise of generous support, from a church in Virginia. The
Jonathan Edwards (Selected Sermons Of Jonathan Edwards)
Sunset. He had promised her until sunset. “If something goes wrong, we need to get her out.” Miles Dorrington looked thoughtful. “I say, we could raise the Jolly Roger and storm the fort as pirates. While they’re panicking, you sneak in and retrieve Jane.” “Too many cannons,” said Jack tersely. “You’ll be blown to splinters before we can get inside. Next?” Lizzy raised her crossbow. “I could—” “No,” said Jack and his father in unison. When Jack had finished glaring at his father, he said, “Jane and I discussed this. If she’s not back by sundown, Lord Richard and I”—Jack nodded to the blond man, who nodded back—“will go after her disguised as dragoons.” Lord Richard quickly took charge. “I’ll see that my men acquire the relevant uniforms.” “No,” said Jack’s new stepmother. “No?” Jack looked narrowly at his stepmother. “What do you propose, then?” His stepmother paced decisively down the deck. “Richard”—Lord Richard leaped agilely out of range of her parasol—“will stay and mind the Bien-Aimée . If Jane isn’t back by sundown”—Jack’s stepmother regarded him imperiously—“you and I will go after her.” “Gwen is very good at rappelling down walls,” said Jack’s father, looking at his bride with gooey eyes. “Up them, too.” “We’re not rappelling,” said Jack. If there was anything he hated, it was rappelling. It was as showy and useless as swinging through windows on ropes. “We’re going through the door.” “I’ve known that girl since she was born.” His stepmother stalked towards him, parasol point glinting. “I’ve protected her from more assailants than you’ve had hot suppers. If you go, I go.” “How lovely,” said Lady Henrietta brightly. “You can get to know each other.” Miles Dorrington prudently lifted his wife by the waist and deposited her out of parasol range. “We don’t know that she’ll need rescuing,” said Jack, staring down his new stepmother. “The plan might go as planned.” His stepmother snorted. “With the Gardener? I’ll go get my pistols.” And she departed, leaving Jack with a sick feeling at the pit of his stomach as he tried not to contemplate what the Gardener might be doing with Jane right now.
Lauren Willig (The Lure of the Moonflower (Pink Carnation, #12))
behind the many pseudo-sciences that have recently dominated literary criticism . . . you will find the same suspicion of literature, a desire to sever our relation to it by denuding it of meaning. The "methods" proposed are laughable caricatures of science; and the results delivered are useful to no one. But that was not the point. The methods of the new literary theorist are really weapons of subversion: an attempt to destroy humane education from within, to rupture the chain of sympathy that binds us to our culture. That is why the new schools of criticism have acquired a following: they promise to release us from the burden of study by showing that there is nothing after all to learn.*
Roger Kimball (Tenured Radicals: How Politics Has Corrupted Our Higher Education)
Ciara, you stole my heart without warning. I fell so fast and yet there isn’t a thing I would change. You know me better than anyone else in this world and somehow, you unconditionally accept every part of me. Every day since you said yes to my proposal, I get to laugh with you and share epic and mundane moments with you, care for you and protect you at any cost. Your needs are my only priority. You’ll never have to walk alone again as long as I walk by your side. I’ll never let you fall. I’ll always be there to catch you. I promise to be faithful, loyal and totally yours. There’s still a part of me that can’t believe you’re willing to take this journey with me… especially since I promise to love you for the next hundred years and the next hundred after that. Sweetness, you’re the only one capable of making my heart beat out of my chest. You are my one true love.
Scarlett Avery (Always & Forever (The Seduction Factor #6))
But what’s that book next to it?” “La Galatea, by Miguel de Cervantes,”24 said the barber. “This Cervantes has been a good friend of mine for many years, and I know that he is better versed in misfortunes than in verses. His book has a certain creativity; it proposes something and concludes nothing. We have to wait for the second part he has promised; perhaps with that addition it will achieve the mercy denied to it now; in the meantime, keep it locked away in your house, my friend.
Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (Don Quixote)
Whoowee, Miss Dandridge, you sound like a regular Sunday preacher. But I didn’t ask you out here to talk about God.” “And so what did you wish to discuss, Lieutenant?” “You. I figure you’re about the prettiest gal in all of Texas. Do you have a beau?” Hannah hadn’t realized this was the direction Lieutenant Atherton had figured to take. “My father’s partner has proposed marriage,” she replied. “However, with my father missing, I cannot even begin to think of courtship or proposals.” “Your father’s partner is Mr. Lockhart, is he not?” “That’s right. Do you know him?” “Enough to know he’s not a good choice for you. He’s old enough to be your pa. Most likely he just wants what he can get from you—money and property and such. He’s that kind of a man.” Hannah bristled. “I see.” “Well, I didn’t mean it to sound like you weren’t prize enough. It’s just that someone like Lockhart is always thinking of his own needs, and if your pa is . . . well . . . if he’s not coming back, then Lockhart probably figures to get this ranch for himself.” “Well, thank you, Lieutenant Atherton, for sharing your opinion with me.” “On the other hand, Miss Dandridge, I admire you for yourself. I think you’re a fine woman.” Hannah shook her head. “You are kind to say so, Lieutenant. However, if you would excuse me, I promised my brother and sister I would read to them.” He reached out to take hold of her arm. “I’m sorry if my boldness offended you. It’s just that I don’t have much time, and I thought I should make my interest known. Will said you weren’t anything to him . . . I mean . . . Well now, that sounded bad. He just told me that you two weren’t a couple or . . .
Tracie Peterson (Chasing The Sun (Land of the Lone Star, #1))
Visitors wanted a perspective on the issues and risks associated with the promise of science. Addressing the public means including their questioning in the museum's presentation strategies. This is achieved on the one hand by associating the ideas and the questioning, and on the other by including social issues in the proposals submitted for debate: in short, the museum must be a true public place that the public seeks.
Massimiano Bucchi (Handbook of Public Communication of Science and Technology (Routledge International Handbooks))
In 1992, as we sought to establish our permanent terrestrial campus, we put out an RFP (request for proposals) that basically said, “Hi there, we’re ISU. We have this concept for a permanent campus. We’ve held five summer programs in five different cities, and this is our vision for what we want to create and where we want to go. Please tell us how much cash endowment, buildings, and operational money you will give us to bring our vision to your city.” Had we gotten no response at all, I would not have been surprised. But that wasn’t the case. Within six months, we received seven proposals ranging from $20 million to $50 million in funding, buildings, faculty, equipment, and even the promise of accreditation. In short, everything we needed to implement the next phase of ISU.
Peter H. Diamandis (Bold: How to Go Big, Create Wealth and Impact the World)
I don’t have all day. It’s almost five, and I promised to fetch my fiancée home.” He smirked. “I’ll be renting a carriage from you for a few weeks, until after the wedding.” Ice raced through Curt’s veins. “Fiancée? Wedding?” He cursed himself for sounding like a parrot. “Your friend Faith Lindberg has accepted my proposal. Once we’re wed, we plan to take her old grandpappy and head for Oregon.” The words struck Curt with the force of a blow. “Congratulations. She’s a fine girl. You’re blessed.” His voice sounded as tight as a wagon spring. “Blessed, or lucky. Whatever you want to call it.
Ann Shorey (Where Wildflowers Bloom (Sisters at Heart, #1))
21. Even the best books on politics and public policy tend to have the same flaw: The bulk of the book consists of a subtle, in-depth analysis of deeply worrying trends. Then, the conclusion suggests glib, hurried suggestions for what to do about them. This is no coincidence: It’s much easier to diagnose problems than to solve them. A deep understanding of a problem does not necessarily point the way toward a sensible solution. And even when a proposed solution looks to be right on the merits, it is often obvious that it would never be adopted. All these problems apply to my topic as much as they would to most others. And that is why I want to offer the reader a simple deal before I launch into my own account of the potential remedies to democracy’s crisis: Finding solutions to the deep challenges I’ve outlined in the book is incredibly hard. I have taken the task seriously, and identified some promising ways of approaching the problem. I genuinely think—and fervently hope—that thinking about the challenge in the way I outline here, and even adopting some of the concrete policies I mention, would maximize our chances of rejuvenating our democracies, and keeping authoritarian populists in check. But I will not pretend that these suggestions are magic bullets. Nor can I promise that adopting them would ultimately be enough to save liberal democracy. They may well turn out not to be enough; but if we are serious about saving liberal democracy, they are the best we can do.
Yascha Mounk (The People vs. Democracy: Why Our Freedom Is in Danger and How to Save It)
The major set Lily in a chair near the fire, and he dropped to one knee in front of her, took her hand in his, and kissed it He looked so like a prince from a fairy tale that Lily was nearly overcome. “I didn’t make a proper proposal before,” he said quietly. “Oh, Caleb.” “There’s never been anyone else for me, Lily,” he went on, “and there never will be again. I’m promising you right now that your happiness will always be as important to me as my own.” Lily’s eyes brimmed with joyous tears. Why had she waited so long? She put her arms around Caleb’s neck and embraced him, and his head was cradled against the plump cushion of her breasts. “I love you so much,” she whispered. He looked up at her, a glint dancing in his eyes. “Show me, Mrs. Halliday.” Lily
Linda Lael Miller (Lily and the Major (Orphan Train, #1))
Knowing when to quit is just as important as knowing when not to quit. You see, if I offer three hundred books to one person and this person does not read even one; if I give her knowledge and she refuses to apply; if I propose therapy but she refuses to accept it; Then, after dozens of forgiveness and failed promises, it is time to quit and let her go from my life.
Robin Sacredfire
In the midst of a pandemic, with hundreds of thousands of deaths attributed to COVID, and the economy in free fall, Dr. Fauci’s suggestion that we withhold promising treatments that have an established safety profile—from patients who have a potentially lethal disease—pending the completion of randomized controlled clinical trials, is highly manipulative and utterly unethical. It is not medically ethical to allow a COVID-19 patient to deteriorate in the early stages of the infection when there is an inexpensive, safe, and demonstrably effective HCQ treatment that CDC’s and NIAID’s own studies show blocks coronavirus replication. It would be equally unethical to enroll sick individuals in such studies—as Dr. Fauci proposes—in which half the infected patients would receive a placebo.
Robert F. Kennedy Jr. (The Real Anthony Fauci: Bill Gates, Big Pharma, and the Global War on Democracy and Public Health)
Reader’s Digest ran articles by Carrel advising women that a “husband should not be induced by an oversexed wife to perform a sexual act,” since sex drained the mind. In his best-selling book, Man, the Unknown, he proposed fixing what he believed was “an error” in the U.S. Constitution that promised equality for all people. “The feebleminded and the man of genius should not be equal before the law,” he wrote. “The stupid, the unintelligent, those who are dispersed, incapable of attention, of effort, have no right to a higher education.
Rebecca Skloot (The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks)
To make sure that X only works on the most promising ideas, the company has a “Rapid Evaluation” team that processes proposals, vets ideas, and promotes only those that seem achievable. This team, which consists of a combination of senior managers and inventors, first runs a pre-mortem, trying to come up with as many reasons as possible why the idea could fail.50 “Rapid Eval,” as the team is known, considers the problem's scale, feasibility, and technological risks.
Amy C. Edmondson (The Fearless Organization: Creating Psychological Safety in the Workplace for Learning, Innovation, and Growth)
Same for the open office, which was first proposed by a pair of German brothers, Eberhard and Wolfgang Schnelle, in 1958. In place of rows of desks and corner offices, the Schnelles saw dynamic clusters and movable partitions: an office landscape, or Bürolandschaft.
Charlie Warzel (Out of Office: The Big Problem and Bigger Promise of Working from Home)