Refuel Quotes

I have to be alone very often. I'd be quite happy if I spent from Saturday night until Monday morning alone in my apartment. That's how I refuel." (Audrey Hepburn: Many-Sided Charmer, LIFE Magazine, December 7, 1953)

People were... exhausting. They made her anxious. Leaving her apartment every morning was the turning over of a giant hourglass, the mental energy she’d stored up overnight eroding grain by grain. She refueled during the day by grabbing moments of solitude and sometimes felt her life was a long-distance swim between islands of silence.

I was ready to start over as a comet: refuel, reignite, and burn across the sky.

I'm definitely an introvert, because people drain me. And now I need silence to refuel.

Libraries are safe but also exciting. Libraries are where nerds like me go to refuel. They are safe-havens where the polluted noise of the outside world, with all the bullies and bro-dudes and anti-feminist rhetoric, is shut out. Libraries have zero tolerance for bullshit. Their walls protect us and keep us safe from all the bastards that have never read a book for fun.

Celebrating your achievements and applauding your triumphs is a sure way to refuel your enthusiasm and keep yourself motivated for your future endeavours.

Libraries are safe but also exciting. Libraries are where nerds like me go to refuel. They are safe-havens where the polluted noise of the outside world, with all the bullies and bro-dudes and anti-feminist rhetoric, is shut out. Libraries have zero tolerance for bullshit. Their walls protect us and keep us safe from all the bastards that have never read a book for fun. I

Nina worried she liked being alone too much; it was the only time she ever fully relaxed. People were . . . exhausting. They made her anxious. Leaving her apartment every morning was the turning over of a giant hourglass, the mental energy she’d stored up overnight eroding grain by grain. She refueled during the day by grabbing moments of solitude and sometimes felt her life was a long-distance swim between islands of silence. She enjoyed people—she really did—she just needed to take them in homeopathic doses; a little of the poison was the cure.

Cars are little privacy cocoons that we take with us. If you could refuel while driving you could, theoretically, stay moving forever.

In this game, everyone needs a break to refuel, recharge, and jump back in full throttle.

Our physical, emotional, and spiritual health requires rest. We need to take a break. We need to nurture ourselves. To take a time out to refuel, rejuvenate, and revive ourselves.

Leaving her apartment every morning was the turning over of a giant hourglass, the mental energy she’d stored up overnight eroding grain by grain. She refueled during the day by grabbing moments of solitude and sometimes felt her life was a long-distance swim between islands of silence. She enjoyed people—she really did—she just needed to take them in homeopathic doses; a little of the poison was the cure.

We keep going, we fuel and refuel, we pass on our life to a biped of the next century, with frenzy, at any cost, as if it were the greatest of pleasures to perpetuate ourselves, as if, when all’s said and done, it would make us immortal.

some abusers are rarely home at all, using the house only as a base for periodic refueling.

We went there to grope for our happiness, which all the world was threatening with the utmost ferocity. We were ashamed of wanting what we wanted, but something had to be done about it all the same. Love is harder to give up than life. In this world we spend our time killing or adoring, or both together. "I hate you! I adore you!" We keep going, we fuel and refuel, we pass on our life to a biped of the next century, with frenzy, at any cost, as if it were the greatest of pleasures to perpetuate ourselves, as if, when all's said and done, it would make us immortal. One way or another, kissing is as indispensable as scratching.

Long periods without quiet refueling leave introverts feeling physically exhausted and emotionally hollow.

Grace has such simple needs. Wake, give love, receive love, refuel, expend energy, sleep. I love that about her.

I was really more like an old star, out of fuel, my own gravity pulling me inward, crushing me. I ran out of energy for my too-perfect life, my too-predictable job, my loveless relationship--exhausted at only twenty-seven. Like a star, my life in Chicago collapsed under the force of its own weight, so I was leaving. Massive stars leave behind black holes. Small stars leave behind white dwarfs. I was barely leaving behind a shadow. All of my light was coming with me. I was ready to start over as a comet: refuel, reignite, and burn across the sky.

I would normally have scheduled my driving time according to published studies on fatigue and booked accommodation accordingly. But I had been too busy to plan. Nevertheless, I stopped for rest breaks every two hours and found myself able to maintain concentration. At 11.43 p.m., I detected tiredness, but rather than sleep I stopped at a service station, refuelled, and ordered four double espressos. I opened the sunroof and turned up the CD player volume to combat fatigue, and at 7.19 a.m. on Saturday, with the caffeine still running all around my brain, Jackson Browne and I pulled into Moree.

Managing our stress and our rest is a sign of living wisely. Refueling as a way to find joy, to create pleasure, and to celebrate life in the midst of all its demands fills our hearts with renewed hope. When we take the time to breathe, listen, and rest from the daily grind to see miracles bubbling up in our lives.

If one were to list all the cruelties and maltreatments, both physical and emotional, that parents and adults inflict on children under the guise of love, the list would be a long one. But, going beyond such sinister examples, even kissing and hugging may or may not convey to a child that he is loved. Love is a feeling, an emotional state. Artists, writers, philosophers, poets have tried to define it. Marcel Proust says, "Love is space and time measured by the heart." What is space and time? It is the here and now. It is you. As unfortunately I am no poet, I will try to recall from my own experience how it feels to be truly loved by someone. It makes me feel good, it opens me up, it gives me strength, I feel less vulnerable, less lonely, less helpless, less confused, more honest, more rich; it fills me with hope, trust, creative energy and it refuels me. How do I perceive the other person who gives me these feelings? As honest, as one who sees and accepts me for what I really am, who objectively responds without being critical, whose authenticity and values I respect and who respects mine, who is available when needed, who listens and hears, who looks and sees me, who shares herself - who cares. Cares. To care is to put love in action. The way we care for our babies is then how they experience our love.

Astronomers suspect that the Oort Cloud could extend as far as three light-years from our solar system. That is more than halfway to the nearest stars, the Centauri triple star system, which is slightly more than four light-years from Earth. If we assume that the Centauri star system is also surrounded by a sphere of comets, then there might be a continuous trail of comets connecting it to Earth. It may be possible to establish a series of refueling stations, outposts, and relay locations on a grand interstellar highway. Instead of leaping to the next star in one jump, we might cultivate the more modest goal of "comet hopping" to the Centauri system. This thoroughfare could become a cosmic Route 66.

Taking a break for a brainworker is not losing time but refueling energy and sharpening your axe (think about the archiving brain) for the next task.

Fasting empties the stomach and the mind; freeing up space to refuel our bodies with the Bread of Life.

its key components are action and practice, which in turn prompt success, which refuels motivation. Figure

China's internal divisions have made it far harder to strike the kind of deals that made it possible for the two countries to open up diplomatic relations decades ago or get China entry into the World Trade Organization. If Nixon were going to open China today, the Interior Ministry would probably get into an argument with the Chinese president's office about whether to let Air Force One land, and then demand the plane's antimissile technology as the price for refueling

If I had the luxury of an entire week, I would spend it meditating and reading, refreshing myself spiritually and intellectually. . . . Amidst the struggle, amidst the frustrations, amidst the endless work, I often reflect that I am forever giving—never pausing to take in. I feel urgently the need for even an hour of time to get away, to withdraw, to refuel. I need more time to think through what is being done, to take time out from the mechanics of the movement, to reflect on the meaning of the movement.

What’s so interesting here is that through the course of development, these secure children increasingly “internalize” their parents’ emotional availability and responsiveness and come to hold the same constant or dependable loving feeling toward themselves that their parents originally held toward them (certainly, a beautiful developmental process to watch unfold in securely attached children). Said differently, cognitive development increasingly allows securely attached children to internally hold a mental representation of their emotionally responsive parents when the attachment figures are away and they can increasingly soothe themselves as their caregivers have done—facilitating the child’s own capacity for affect regulation and independent functioning. Thus, as these children grow older and mature cognitively and emotionally, they become increasingly able to soothe themselves when distressed, function for increasingly longer periods without emotional refueling, and effectively elicit appropriate help or support when necessary. In this way, object constancy and more independent functioning develops—facilitating their ability to comfort themselves and become the source of their own self-esteem and secure identity as capable, love-worthy persons. Furthermore, they possess the cognitive schemas or internal working models necessary to establish new relationships with others that hold this same affirming affective valence.

the Deep Space Gateway, which will act as a refueling and resupply station for missions to Mars and the asteroids. It will be the basis for a permanent human presence in space. Construction of this lunar space station will begin in 2023 and it will be operational by 2026. Four SLS missions will be required to build it.

There are days when one feels not like being out there – it’s ok go ahead and hibernate. There are days when one wants to give affection – trust me there are many ways to do that and plenty of people wanting it. There are days when one wants to feel it’s ok to have needs – please don’t hide who you are. There are days when one feels like nobody understands you – it’s ok to play a low key and watch life quietly. There are days when one feels like is giving more than receiving – take a step back to refuel yourself, ask for help and simply stop for a breather. There are days when one feels like not sharing – share to give others a chance to know you.

Keep your Eyes on All that's Good and Beautiful and Possible in the World. Because "The Stories We Tell Create the People We Become.

To master the virtual equation and make all the elements work together, you have to become the connector. In fact, your greatest role as a virtual manager is to link the various parts of his/her team to accomplish the goals that lead to its formation in the first place. You may need to shift gears, perform ream tune-ups, realign, and refuel your team's energy along the way.

What could be more intimate, more placental? This steamy, candlelit cradle she'd made use, twins tied in the womb. Grooming each other, letting the soil and torment that is the world's indifference disappear down the drain. Here, at last, was my partner. Tucked behind the wet walls of our sanctum. Here we could gleam anew with infant vigor, could refuel each other...with the will to believe again.

The true bodhisattva spirit grows out of this personal sense of freedom. You discover that you don't feel so needy anymore. You don't crave another refueling - with shamatha or with other people's love and attention - because you know within yourself how to be free, how to be confident. With this sense of security and freedom, you begin to direct your attention to the needs of others. The compassion expands.

they set out to acquire—steal—our industrial secrets. “Curiously our free-world media fail dismally to point out that all Soviet advances are based originally on one of our stolen inventions or techniques, that without our grain they starve, and without our vast and ever-growing financial assistance and credits to buy our grains and technology they cannot fuel and refuel their whole military-industrial infrastructure which keeps their empire and people enthralled.

Tip: When your child comes home from school, realize that it may be no different than someone coming home from a hard day at work. No matter how anxious you are to hear about how her test went or know how much homework she has, she may have no interest in rehashing her day—especially if it was stressful or talking about it would create more stress. Offer a snack, perhaps some space, or some light conversation about your own day. Do what you can to help your child refuel.

And then come and join us in a toast. I'm about to whisk Lauren off to Las Vegas to get married. The plane is being refueled and checked out right now." "Does Lauren know about this?" Mary said, frowning. "She's downstairs in Jim's office, hard at work." "I'll convince her of the wisdom of the plan." "When the plane is airborne and she has no choice," Ericka put in with a knowing smile. "Exactly." Nick grinned in high good spirits. He had missed her so much that he'd called her three times a day, every day, like a lovesick schoolboy.

I even reached a point of detachment where I was able to see clearly that he was a top operator of a complex vehicle who had some great skills and some fundamental problems. The trick to working well with him was to understand that the problems were his, not mine, and they all seemed to stem from his insecurity. He was unable to view his colleagues as anything other than competitors out to destroy him, who therefore needed to be squashed like bugs. Once, flying up to Washington in a NASA jet, I stopped to refuel and a military guy I’d never met before noticed the plane and said, “Hey, do you know ____? What an asshole!

Schedule family meetings. You wouldn’t expect your car to run without periodic refueling and maintenance, yet we expect our family unit to run without regular checkups. The most enthusiastic endorsement for family meetings comes from parents and children who have experienced them. One teenager told us, “It’s a great way to make sure tensions never build up. We sit around and talk about family activities, chores, who wants to do what, who wants to trade off what, who’s bothered by what.” His mother added, “It’s a time for all of us to think creatively about what we need for ourselves and how we can be supportive of each other.

How long will it take to get to Venice?" she asked. "It shouldn't be too much longer," Daniel almost whispered into her ear. "You sound like a pilot who's been in a holding pattern for an hour, telling his passengers 'just another ten minutes' for the fifth time," Luce teased. When Daniel didn't respond, she looked up at him. He was frowning in confusion. The metaphor was lost on him. "You've never been on a plane," she said. "Why should you when you can do this?" She gestured at his gorgeous beating wings. "All the waiting and taxiing would probably drive you crazy." "I'd like to go on a plane with you. Maybe we'll take a trip to the Bahamas. People fly there, right?" "Yes." Luce swallowed. "Let's." She couldn't help thinking how many impossible things had to happen in precisely the right way for the two of them to be able to travel like a normal couple. It was too hard to think about the future right now, when so much was at stake. The future was as blurry and distant as the ground below-and Luce hoped it would be as beautiful. "How long will it really take?" "Four, maybe five hours at this speed." "But won't you need to rest? Refuel?" Luce shrugged, still embarrassingly unsure of how Daniel's body worked. "Won't your arms get tired?" He chuckled. "What?" "I just flew in from Heaven, and boy, are my arms tired." Daniel squeezed her waist, teasing. "The idea of my arms ever tiring of holding you is absurd.

They are totally different kinds of hard. As a mom, I can get help, share responsibility with my husband, enlist the help of grandmas and friends. That’s not to say it isn’t hard—because, holy moly, it’s hard!—but it can be shared. To truly be your best in running, you can’t outsource much, if anything. It’s all on you. Even if you have a coach, nobody else can do your training. Nobody else can sleep for you. Nobody else can refuel. Nobody else can set your goals. Nobody else can run the race. This realization hit me just the other day as I was planning for the upcoming year and strategizing my support crew to help with the various parts of my life: motherhood, running, and Picky Bars. Running was the one where I went, ‘Oh shit, that’s all me.

To make matters worse, Unit 4 was at the end of a fuel cycle. One of the features of the RBMK design is ‘online refuelling’, which is the ability to swap out spent fuel while the reactor is at power. Because fuel burn-up is not even throughout the core, it was not uncommon for the reactor to contain both new and old fuel, which was usually replaced every two years. On April 26th, around 75% of the fuel was nearing the end of its cycle.95 This old fuel had, by now, been given time to accumulate hot and highly radioactive fission products, meaning any interruption in the flow of cooling water could quickly damage the older fuel channels and generate heat faster than the reactor was designed to cope with. Unit 4 was scheduled for a lengthy shutdown and annual maintenance period upon conclusion of the test, during which all of the old fuel would be replaced. It would have been far more sensible to conduct the test with fresh fuel, but management decided to push ahead anyway.

Nevertheless, in certain respects and in certain places, despite philosophy, despite progress, the spirit of the cloister lingers on, in the middle of the nineteenth century, and a bizarre new outbreak of asceticism now astounds the civilized world. The persistence of antiquated institutions in perpetuating themselves is like the stubbornness of stale scent clinging to your hair, the urgency of spoiled fish clamouring to be eaten, the oppression of childish garb expecting to clothe the adult, and the tenderness of corpses wanting to come back to kiss the living. 'Ungrateful wretch!' says the garment. 'I protected you in bad weather. Why will you have nothing more to do with me?' 'I come from the open sea,' says the fish. 'I was a rose,' says the perfume. 'I loved you,' says the corpse. 'I civilized you,' says the convent. There is only one answer to this: once upon a time. To dream of the indefinite protraction of defunct things and of embalmment as a way of governing mankind, to restore ravaged dogmas, regild shrines, patch up cloisters, re-bless reliquaries, revitalize superstitions, refuel fanaticisms, replace the handles on holy-water sprinklers and on sabres, recreate monasticism and militarism, to believe in the salvation of society by the multiplication of the parasites, to force the past on the present - this seems strange. Still, there are theorists who propound these theories. Such theorists, and they are intelligent people, have a very simple method: they put a gloss on the past, a gloss they call 'social order', 'divine right', 'morality', 'family', 'respect for elders', 'ancient authority', 'sacred tradition', 'legitimacy', 'religion', and they go about shouting, 'Look! Take this, honest people.' This logic was known to the ancients The haruspices practiced it. They rubbed a black heifer with chalk and said, 'It's white.' We ourselves respect the past in certain instances and in all cases grant it clemency, provided it consents to being dead. If it insists on being alive, we attack and try to kill it. Superstitions, bigotries, false pieties, prejudices, these spectres, for all that they are spectres, cling to life. They have teeth and nails in their vaporousness, and they must be tackled head-on, and war must be waged against them, and it must be waged constantly. For it is one of the fates of humanity to be doomed to eternal battle against phantoms. Shades are difficult to throttle and destroy.

Throughout the autumn and the winter activity increased in the Beaulieu area, and with it came mysteries. Lepe House, the mansion at the entrance to the river, was taken over by the Navy and became full of secretive Naval officers; it became known that this was part of a mysterious Navel entity called 'Force J'. Near Lepe House and at the very mouth of the river a construction gang began work in full strength to make a hard, sloping concrete platform running down into the river where the flat-bottomed landing craft could beach to refuel and let their ramps down to embark the vehicles and tanks. This place was about two miles from 'Mastodon'. A mile or so along the coast a country house was occupied by a secret Naval party who did strange things with tugs and wires and winches, and with what looked like a gigantic reel of cotton floating in the sea; this was 'Pluto', Pipe Line Under The Ocean, which was to lay pipes from England to France to carry petrol to supply the armies which were due to land in Normandy. On a bare beach nearby a thousand navvies were camped making huge concrete structures known as 'Phoenix', one of many such sites all along the coast. It was not till after the invasion that it became known that these were a part of the artificial harbour 'Mulberry' on the north coast of France.

the cotton fields and strawberry patches of a much harsher world whose tragedies and daily burdens had blunted her temperament and quelled her emotions. But its most immediate impact on this teenage girl was not the lack of a demure coquettishness that otherwise might have defined her had she grown up in better circumstances; it was the visible evidence of the hardship of her journey. This was not a pom-pom-waving homecoming queen or a varsity athlete who had toned her body in a local gym. My mother never complained, but it was her struggles that had visibly shaped her shoulders, grown her biceps, and crusted her palms—while in a less visible way narrowing her view of her own long-term horizons. Decades later, when I was in my forties, I suppressed a defensive anger as I watched my mother sit quietly in an expansive waterfront Florida living room while a well-bred woman her age described the supposedly difficult impact of the Great Depression on her family. As the woman told it, the crash on Wall Street and the failed economy had made it necessary for them to ship their car by rail from New York to Florida when they headed south for the winter. Who could predict, she reasoned, whether there would be food or gasoline if their driver had to refuel and dine in the remote and hostile environs of small-town Georgia? My mother merely smiled and nodded, as

The Soviet Union was the only nation involved in the Second World War to put women in the sky as fighter and bomber pilots, and what women they were! Products of the Soviet aviation drive of the 1930s, these young fliers were championed by Marina Raskova, the Amelia Earhart of the USSR. The day bombers and the fighter pilots (among the latter, Lilia Litviak, seen in cameo at the Engels training camp, was killed in an aerial dogfight during the war, but became history’s first female ace) eventually integrated with male personnel . . . but the night bombers remained all-female throughout their term of service and were fiercely proud of this fact. The ladies of the Forty-Sixth Taman Guards Night Bomber Aviation Regiment went to war in the outdated Polikarpov U-2, an open-cockpit cloth-and-plywood biplane, achingly slow and highly flammable, built without radio, parachute, or brakes. (It was redesignated the Po-2 after 1943; I was unable to pinpoint an exact date for the change, and continued to use the term U-2 for clarity.) The women flew winter and summer, anywhere from five to eighteen runs per night, relying on stimulants that destroyed their ability to rest once off-duty. They flew continuously under these conditions for three years, surviving on catnaps and camaraderie, developing the conveyor belt land-and-refuel routine that gave them a far more efficient record than comparable night bomber regiments. The women’s relentless efficiency waged ruthless psychological warfare on the Germans below, who thought their silent glide-down sounded like witches on broomsticks, and awarded them the nickname “die Nachthexen.” Such dedication took a toll: the regiment lost approximately 27 percent of its flying personnel to crashes and enemy fire. The Night Witches were also awarded a disproportionately higher percentage of Hero of the Soviet Union medals—the USSR’s highest decoration.

the greatest inspiration for institutional change in American law enforcement came on an airport tarmac in Jacksonville, Florida, on October 4, 1971. The United States was experiencing an epidemic of airline hijackings at the time; there were five in one three-day period in 1970. It was in that charged atmosphere that an unhinged man named George Giffe Jr. hijacked a chartered plane out of Nashville, Tennessee, planning to head to the Bahamas. By the time the incident was over, Giffe had murdered two hostages—his estranged wife and the pilot—and killed himself to boot. But this time the blame didn’t fall on the hijacker; instead, it fell squarely on the FBI. Two hostages had managed to convince Giffe to let them go on the tarmac in Jacksonville, where they’d stopped to refuel. But the agents had gotten impatient and shot out the engine. And that had pushed Giffe to the nuclear option. In fact, the blame placed on the FBI was so strong that when the pilot’s wife and Giffe’s daughter filed a wrongful death suit alleging FBI negligence, the courts agreed. In the landmark Downs v. United States decision of 1975, the U.S. Court of Appeals wrote that “there was a better suited alternative to protecting the hostages’ well-being,” and said that the FBI had turned “what had been a successful ‘waiting game,’ during which two persons safely left the plane, into a ‘shooting match’ that left three persons dead.” The court concluded that “a reasonable attempt at negotiations must be made prior to a tactical intervention.” The Downs hijacking case came to epitomize everything not to do in a crisis situation, and inspired the development of today’s theories, training, and techniques for hostage negotiations. Soon after the Giffe tragedy, the New York City Police Department (NYPD) became the first police force in the country to put together a dedicated team of specialists to design a process and handle crisis negotiations. The FBI and others followed. A new era of negotiation had begun. HEART

Another episode startled Trump’s advisers on the Asia trip. As the president and his entourage embarked on the journey, they stopped in Hawaii on November 3 to break up the long flight and allow Air Force One to refuel. White House aides arranged for the president and first lady to make a somber pilgrimage so many of their predecessors had made: to visit Pearl Harbor and honor the twenty-three hundred American sailors, soldiers, and marines who lost their lives there. The first couple was set to take a private tour of the USS Arizona Memorial, which sits just off the coast of Honolulu and straddles the hull of the battleship that sank into the Pacific during the Japanese surprise bombing attack in 1941. As a passenger boat ferried the Trumps to the stark white memorial, the president pulled Kelly aside for a quiet consult. “Hey, John, what’s this all about? What’s this a tour of?” Trump asked his chief of staff. Kelly was momentarily stunned. Trump had heard the phrase “Pearl Harbor” and appeared to understand that he was visiting the scene of a historic battle, but he did not seem to know much else. Kelly explained to him that the stealth Japanese attack here had devastated the U.S. Pacific Fleet and prompted the country’s entrance into World War II, eventually leading the United States to drop atom bombs on Japan. If Trump had learned about “a date which will live in infamy” in school, it hadn’t really pierced his consciousness or stuck with him. “He was at times dangerously uninformed,” said one senior former adviser. Trump’s lack of basic historical knowledge surprised some foreign leaders as well. When he met with President Emmanuel Macron of France at the United Nations back in September 2017, Trump complimented him on the spectacular Bastille Day military parade they had attended together that summer in Paris. Trump said he did not realize until seeing the parade that France had had such a rich history of military conquest. He told Macron something along the lines of “You know, I really didn’t know, but the French have won a lot of battles. I didn’t know.” A senior European official observed, “He’s totally ignorant of everything. But he doesn’t care. He’s not interested.” Tillerson developed a polite and self-effacing way to manage the gaps in Trump’s knowledge. If he saw the president was completely lost in the conversation with a foreign leader, other advisers noticed, the secretary of state would step in to ask a question. As Tillerson lodged his question, he would reframe the topic by explaining some of the basics at issue, giving Trump a little time to think. Over time, the president developed a tell that he would use to get out of a sticky conversation in which a world leader mentioned a topic that was totally foreign or unrecognizable to him. He would turn to McMaster, Tillerson

The attacks on the Taj and the Oberoi, in which executives and socialites died, had served as a blunt correction. The wealthy now saw that their security could not be requisitioned privately. They were dependent on the same public safety system that ill served the poor. Ten young men had terrorized one of the world’s biggest cities for three days—a fact that had something to do with the ingenuity of a multi-pronged plot, but perhaps also to do with government agencies that had been operating as private market-stalls, not as public guardians. The crisis-response units of the Mumbai Police lacked arms. Officers in the train station didn’t know how to use their weapons, and ran and hid as two terrorists killed more than fifty travelers. Other officers called to rescue inhabitants of a besieged maternity hospital stayed put at police headquarters, four blocks away. Ambulances failed to respond to the wounded. Military commandos took eight hours to reach the heart of the financial capital—a journey that involved an inconveniently parked jet, a stop to refuel, and a long bus ride from the Mumbai airport. By the time the commandos arrived in south Mumbai, the killings were all but over.

In what appeared to be a rehearsal for a strike on Iran, one hundred Israeli F-15 and F-16 fighters flew from Israel over the eastern Mediterranean to Greece and returned. The exercise included the deployment of Israeli rescue helicopters and the use of refueling tankers. Flight tactics and other elements of a potential strike were rehearsed. The distance the fighters flew was 862 nautical miles. The distance from the Israeli airfield to the Iranian uranium enrichment facility at Natanz was 860 nautical miles.

The only time when i realize that i use a car, which is a "Luxury", is when i go to the fuel station to refuel it.

Godly relationships will help grow, replenish, and refuel us so we can continually move closer to our dreams... It's critical that we constantly evaluate whom we're in relationships with to ensure they're taking us toward our dreams and not holding us back from our destinies.

Rest, Recreated, Refreshed and Refuel!

(You’ll know why when you get to chapter 8.) Refuel Your Body After a workout, it’s important to refuel your body, especially with complex carbohydrates. Some experts speak about the “carb window,” the sixty-minute period following a workout when your body needs carbs to replenish glycogen and your muscles can make this conversion three times faster than normal—in this way, you can refuel your body’s energy resources, boost

The family is both the fundamental unit of society as well as the root of culture. It ... is a perpetual source of encouragement, advocacy, assurance, and emotional refueling that empowers a child to venture with confidence into the greater world and to become all that he can be. Marianne E. Neifert Dr. Mom’s Parenting Guide

I mean, these guys started with horses and six shooters and now we're talking about twenty-two million dollar business jets, ship at sea refueling, electronic warfare…

Running relaxes the body and the mind. Racing taxes the mind and takes a toll on the body. The mind gives out fastest, or at least mine does. When you quit paying attention, you get injured doing the wrong workout, pushing when you don’t need to, eating poorly, and forgetting to refuel properly…silly little things.

The Boeing B-52 Stratofortress strategic bombers, introduced in February 1955, have been in service for an impressive 58 years, and they will probably be phased out around 2045. The grandchildren of people who flew the original batch of B-52s could be flying B-52s today. The last B-52H was built in 1962, and this last group of 85 planes still in service has been modified and improved several times. These bombers can go 650 miles per hour and climb to 50,000 feet with a range of 10,145 miles, and they have broken many flight records. They have flown around the world non-stop in 45 hours 19 minutes with in-flight refueling, and can fly from Japan to Spain with one load of fuel. A B-52 can land sideways in a heavy cross-wind, using its in-board landing gear with coupled steering.

At my lowest point, she awoke the artist in me. She stoked the embers, refueling my passion. My obsession. She had the kind of beauty people look right past. To everyone else, she was a pretty face they forgot about the moment they turned away. The quiet girl in the corner. But I saw her differently. That kind of beauty, sad, hard, damaged, raw—it was captivating. It told a story. One I needed to know the ending to.

Neuroscientists have a biological explanation for why those downward negative-thought spirals happen in the first place. MRIs have shown that every time people think angry thoughts or imagine worst-case scenarios, they send a surge of blood flowing into the brain regions associated with depression and anger—which refuels their depression and anger in a destructive feedback loop.

curriculum companies provide more work than is needed. I never finished the complete curriculum when I taught in a classroom or at home. If your race is with your curriculum, learn to pick and choose what to use, and please do not attempt to cover it all or your race will be ongoing and you will be exhausted. Even races require pit stops to refuel.

his strongest desire was to return to farming, but Weizman had insisted that Hod replace him as air force chief early in 1966. Since then, he had concentrated on refining Focus, reducing the turnaround time for refueling and rearming jets to less than eight minutes. The Egyptian turnaround rate, by comparison, was eight hours. “He may not be able to quote [the Hebrew poet] Bialik or Shakespeare,” Weizman said of Hod, “but he will screw the Arabs in plain Hebrew.

There is only one unsolved case of hijacking in US aviation history - that of DB Cooper. A man, actually going by the name of Dan Cooper (it was later reported incorrectly by the media) bought a one-way ticket for flight 305 between Portland International Airport and Seattle, Washington. Shortly after take-off, Cooper whispered to an air stewardess to take a note from him, and that he had a bomb. The note requested she sit next to him and that he was hijacking the place. She did as told, and with some trepidation asked to see the bomb. Cooper opened up his briefcase enough the stewardess to see eight red cylinders in two rows. He gave her his demands - $200,000, four parachutes (two main and two reserve) and a fuel truck standing by in Seattle to refuel the aircraft as soon as it landed.

century. Moreover it has been carbon-dated and appears to be 400 years old, give or take. I am completely mystified!” I checked the paper every day after that for months but there was never another mention of the mysterious refueling-can. A letter to the British museum elicited the following curt reply: “Professor Barry Deancliff’s team will be spending many years analyzing the finds from the dig and as yet, he has no further comment to make about

Once I started to walk, I woke up every day early in the morning and went for a stroll to practice my gait. I loved those mornings - the feeling of freedom was incredible. Walking with my chin up, no crutches, no canes and without the hunched-up depressed posture I had all those years was something that felt extremely empowering. It still does, maybe not as much as those days but whenever I need to uplift myself, going for a prideful walk always refuels my self-confidence.

A marathoner is an individual who displays exceptional endurance. True. But I think the exceptional marathoner is the individual who completes the great distance without all the launched confetti, without all the refueling stations, and without the receipt of a finisher's medal. Whether they know it or not.

The constant desire to change yourself then becomes its own sort of addiction: each cycle of “changing yourself” results in similar failures of self-control, therefore making you feel as though you need to “change yourself” all over again. Each cycle refuels you with the hope you’re looking for. Meanwhile, the Classic Assumption, the root of the problem, is never addressed or questioned, let alone thrown out.

The studies concluded that willpower is a mental muscle that doesn’t bounce back quickly. If you employ it for one task, there will be less power available for the next unless you refuel. To do our best, we literally have to feed our minds, which gives new credence to the old saw, “food for thought.” Foods that elevate blood sugar evenly over long periods, like complex carbohydrates and proteins, become the fuel of choice for high-achievers—literal proof that “you are what you eat.

The Way by Maisie Aletha Smikle There is one Way And only one Way To get to God our heavenly Father The Way is through His only Son Not many ways are there only one If you are on your way But did not go through the Son Then you are lost Turn and make a U-turn Then go straight Turn neither to the left or right The street is narrow The road is a one-way street The arrow points in only one direction There are no roundabouts There are no intersections Continue till you reach your destination Refuel frequently with prayer Lest Lucifer gets you off track And recalibrate your GPS So you lose your way With Lucifer you are lost Lucifer is not the Way nor the Truth Neither is he Life or the Light Jesus is the Way Jesus is the Truth Jesus is the Life Jesus is the Light

We have the ability to build genuine rest and refueling into our schedule. We don’t want our kids to think living completely burnt out is healthy either.

Golden Wheel Towing Fort Worth will get a professional to your vehicle at any hour of the day. We do not wait for garages to open and offer many of their services on site. For instance, if your car gets stuck out of gas and needs refueling, we will send our professional to fill it up, so that you do not have to walk for miles to reach a nearby station. We do this gladly and are always at your service. Call us at (682) 232-224 for top-notch towing service in Fort Worth, Texas and surrounding areas.

I am definitely an introvert, because people drain me. And now I need silence to refuel.

Tooey” Spaatz was an aviation pioneer who had shot down three German planes in World War I and helped set a world record for staying aloft in 1929 through innovative midair refueling

Nina worried she liked being alone too much; it was the only time she ever fully relaxed. People were . . . exhausting. They made her anxious. Leaving her apartment every morning was the turning over of a giant hourglass, the mental energy she’d stored up overnight eroding grain by grain. She refueled during the day by grabbing moments of solitude and sometimes felt her life was a long-distance swim between islands of silence. She enjoyed people—she really did—she just needed to take them in homeopathic doses; a little of the poison was the cure.

What not to refuel with is fruit. Yes, it’s high in simple sugar, but that simple sugar is most often fructose (there are some exceptions, such as bananas and grapes). Your liver loves fructose and will soak it up at the expense of your muscles. Better to stick to veggies, which are made up of long chains of glucose and are more efficient at restocking your stores.

Emotions are dynamic processes that are in a state of flux. If you don’t refuel them through obsessive thinking, they will change and fade.

What a magical way to live . . . to embrace and enjoy our homes as the sacred spaces they are and to allow ourselves to be refueled by simply being here. Here, in this special space, surrounded by this imperfect, messy life, I’m so grateful. I’m grateful I learned this hard lesson.

I lock onto her touch and relax my fingers to let hers find their way into the spaces between. It’s such a light touch, and it might be all the energy she has to give, but it’s enough to refuel me and remind me why I will walk through fire for this girl if that’s what she needs. Eleanor Trombley is special. Always has been, always will be. And the more I get to know her, especially all of her broken bits, the more I think we’re finding each other at the exact moment we’re supposed to.

Posted on the other side of the world, it was early on the morning of December 8 in the Philippines when Douglas MacArthur received news of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor hours earlier. With that, it could only be a matter of time before the Japanese attacked the Philippines. MacArthur’s air commander, Lewis Brereton, urged an immediate bombing raid against Formosa, but MacArthur dithered. Eventually, the heavy B-17 Flying Fortresses were scrambled for their own protection, only to be caught back on the ground refueling when the expected Japanese air raids hit mid-morning.

The steeper angle of a true dive bombing run (about 70 degrees) was far less vulnerable to flak and far more accurate. Japanese carriers had thin unarmored flight decks, and on board the ships there were hundreds of aircraft, many of them being refuelled and re-armed. All the factors were now aligned for a devastating attack. Yorktown’s

The organization of high-tempo air operations from carriers remains an extremely challenging proposition even today, but in June 1942, the Japanese were world leaders in this field. Their fleet carriers would typically hold about 90 aircraft, confined into a very tight space. There were two hangar decks, with lifts connecting them to the flight deck above. Japanese ground crews were very well trained, with the result that they could turn around aircraft much faster than their British or American counterparts. Nonetheless, these were crowded ships, and they were already coming under attack from the Midway-based American aircraft. Furthermore, in addition to switching armament for Nagumo’s reserve bomber force, the crews were maintaining a rotating force of covering fighters. There were always Zeros on deck waiting to take off, being refuelled, or just having landed. Hoisting heavy torpedoes into the bomb bays of the Kates was also a very skilled operation that only specialist torpedo armorers were able to undertake. In short, this was a recipe for delay and confusion, even given the superb quality of the Japanese ground crew, and as Nagumo changed his mind twice in the span of less than an hour, the issues the Japanese faced on the carriers were exacerbated. 

People still said that “The Sun Never Sets on the British Empire,” even though the Commonwealth was starting to come apart. In spite of the obvious, it was unthinkable that the United States had a colony in Africa; well they had one, and that was where I was headed! World War II had been over for ten years and in Europe they were getting on with things and for now all was well in Africa, and with the World! Unless especially fitted out, aircraft didn’t have the range to cross the Atlantic in one jump, so after leaving Idlewild Airport in New York City, we flew halfway across the Atlantic Ocean to the Portuguese island of Santa Maria in the Azores. After refueling and stretching our legs we continued on to Lisbon. Our layovers were only for as long as it took to take care of business. There were no days built in, for me to have a leisurely, gentlemanly, civilized journey to my destination. Instead my seat was beginning to feel as hard as a rock pile. The engines continued to drone on as the Atlantic Ocean eventually gave way to the Iberian Peninsula. My view of Portugal was only what I could see from the air and what was at the airport. Again we landed for fuel in Lisbon, and then without skipping a beat, headed south across the Mediterranean to the North African desert. The beaches under us, in Morocco and the Spanish Sahara, were endless and the sand went from the barren coastal surf inland, to as far as the eye could see. With very few exceptions there was no evidence of civilization.

The night before we attacked, the refueler told me that I better get as much fuel as possible, because he did not want to be anywhere near a tank when the battle started. He was terrified, and I understood why. There’s nowhere to hide in the desert, and tanks are the number one target.

I like disconnecting and feeling invisible, a sensation like floating, when it’s good. A run alone in the mountains in the early morning when no one is around can be like that. Solitude refuels me, clarifies and heightens my interactions with the world.

Fletcher was aware that the Japanese invasion force headed for Tulagi had been sighted as it approached the Solomon Islands, but he didn’t know that Task Force 11, which had completed refueling ahead of schedule, was only 69 miles east of Task Force 17.

A run alone in the mountains in the early morning when no one is around can be like that. Solitude refuels me, clarifies and heightens my interactions with the world.

Instead of wishing for the devotional life we may have had before children, let’s discover what a devotional life looks like now: with a baby in our arms, a teen needing a ride, or a grandchild coming over after school. On demanding days, a verse on an index card by the kitchen sink may be like the cup of water a marathon runner grabs along her race route. The Holy Spirit will use that one verse to refuel us. On other days - even most days - we will be capable of more than a moment of prayer or a brief reflection here or there. On those days, let’s challenge ourselves to dig in. The Holy Spirit will faithfully use the words on the page to shape our character, prepare us for our day’s work, and increase our love for Christ. Rest assured that every bit matters: God promises “my word shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it” (Isaiah 55:11). Let’s ask God for the wisdom and creativity to draw near to Him through His Word.

reminder of the importance of refueling grit along the way, and not letting the needle hit “empty.

Grit is based on several things. To increase and refuel the grit inside you, we’ll start by exploring agency, the sense that you can make things happen rather than being helpless. Then I’ll cover different aspects of determination, including patience and a fierce tenacity. We’ll finish with ways to increase your vitality, including through accepting and appreciating your body.

They feel excited in a Parisian café where pride in cooking and eating can be felt in the air. By contrast, eating at home tends to be quick, efficient, and routine. Fuel gets put into your stomach. Otherwise, there is no nourishment to the senses or the soul. The modernist architect Le Corbusier called a house “a machine for living,” which sounds rather bleak. It’s just as bleak when meals turn into pit stops for refueling. Your body isn’t looking for fuel the way a diesel truck is. It’s looking for a myriad of nutrients. The ones that work as fuel are few and easy to outline:

Rudolf Diesel deliberately set out to design a new, more efficient, prime mover, and by 1897 his first (heavy and stationary) engine had reached an efficiency of 30 percent, double the performance of the best steam engines.[40] But the first marine engine was installed only in 1912 on Christian X, a Danish freighter. Diesel-powered ships carried much less fuel than coal-fired steamers, but could travel further without refueling because the new engines were nearly twice as efficient—and because, per unit of mass, diesel oil contains nearly twice as much energy. An

The Royal Navy had no fleet oilers, only tankers, which were not equipped with replenishment gear to refuel at sea.

I read once that the difference between an extrovert and an introvert isn’t how you act in a group setting. It’s whether or not those group settings give you fuel or drain you. An introvert can outwardly appear to others to be an extrovert, and vice versa. But it all comes down to how those interactions influence you internally. I am definitely an introvert, because people drain me. And now I need silence to refuel.

Hannibal was able to refuel his army with arms and other supplies.

for the rest of the night. Other than to refuel with holiday leftovers. “Would you still love me if I told you I didn’t know what tasted better, Christmas leftovers or you?” Jana cocked her eyebrow with a sexy smile on her face. Damn, she was beautiful. “No but I will be mad unless you do some very thorough research and come up with a satisfying answer…” I grinned. This Christmas was unlike any of the others Jana and I had spent together. This time we had two little boys, a bigger family and we’d faced our biggest threat yet and come out on top. “If it’s for the sake of research, consider me in babe.” And I spent the rest of the night doing science. Between the gorgeous legs of my beautiful wife. I was pretty sure in that moment, life for the Reckless Bastard’s couldn’t get any better. Merry friggin’ Christmas to us! * * * * If you think the Reckless Bastards are spicy bad boys, they’re nothing compared to the steam in my next series Reckless MC Opey, TX Chapter where Gunnar and Maisie move to Texas! There’s also a sneak peek on the next page.   Don’t wait — grab your copy today!  Copyright © 2019 KB Winters and BookBoyfriends Publishing Inc Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing Inc Chapter One Gunnar “We’re gonna be cowboys!” Maisie had been singing that song since we got on the interstate and left Nevada and the only family we’d had in the world behind. For good. Cross was my oldest friend, and I’d miss him the most, even though I knew we’d never lose touch. I’d miss Jag too, even Golden Boy and Max. The prospects were cool, but I had no attachment to them. Though I gave him a lot of shit, I knew I’d even miss Stitch. A little. It didn’t matter that the last year had been filled with more shit than gold, or that I was leaving Vegas in the dust, we were all closer for the hell we’d been through. But still, I was leaving. Maisie and I’d been on the road for a couple of days. Traveling with a small child took a long damn time. Between bathroom breaks and snack times we’d be lucky to make it to Opey by the end of the month. Lucky for me, Maisie had her mind set on us becoming cowboys, complete with ten gallon hats, spurs and chaps, so she hadn’t shed one tear, yet. It wasn’t something I’d been hoping for but I was waiting patiently for reality to sink in and the uncontrollable sobs that had a way of breaking a grown man’s heart. “You’re not a boy,” I told her and smiled through the rear view mirror. “Hard to be a cowboy if you’re not even a boy.” Maisie grinned, a full row of bright white baby teeth shining back at me right along with sapphire blue eyes and hair so black it looked to be painted on with ink. “I’m gonna be a cowgirl then! A cowgirl!” She went on and on for what felt like forever, in only the way that a four year old could, about all the cool cowgirl stuff she’d have. “Boots and a pony too!” “A pony? You can’t even tie your shoes or clean up your toys and you want a pony?” She nodded in that exaggerated way little kids did. “I’ll learn,” she said with the certainty of a know it all teenager, a thought that terrified the hell out of me. “You’ll help me, Gunny!” Her words brought a smile to my face even though I hated that fucking nickname she’d picked up from a woman I refused to think about ever again. I’d help Maisie because that’s what family did. Hell, she was the reason I’d uprooted my entire fucking life and headed to the great unknown wilds of Texas. To give Maisie a normal life or as close to normal as I was capable of giving her. “I’ll always help you, Squirt.” “I know. Love you Gunny!” “Love you too, Cowgirl.” I winked in the mirror and her face lit up with happiness. It was the pure joy on her face, putting a bloom in her cheeks that convinced me this was the right thing to do. I didn’t want to move to Texas, and I didn’t want to live on a goddamn ranch, but that was my future. The property was already bought and paid for with my name

Being a high performer is like being an elite race car, speeding past the competition with ease. But even the best cars need to make pit stops to recharge and refuel. Take the time to rest, re-energize, and focus on self-care, for it's these moments of rejuvenation that will give you the strength to cross the finish line and win the race.

Remember to prioritize self-care and rest, as they are essential components of success. By taking time to refuel, you'll be able to perform better and reach your goals faster.

And therein lies another key difference between walking today and in ancient times. If I walk ten thousand extra steps to place my body in negative energy balance, it is literally a piece of cake for me to wipe out the extra cost of such a walk. The ease of refueling with a donut or a Gatorade or just by sitting at my desk for the rest of the day helps explain the counterintuitive result we just saw from the DREW study in which the women who exercised the most lost less weight than predicted: they ate more.36 Happily, more than a dozen studies on the effects of exercise, food intake, and non-exercise physical activity on weight loss found that modest doses of prescribed exercise rarely cause people to spend the rest of the day as couch potatoes erasing the benefits of their exertions.37 However, several experiments that required large doses of exercise (one involved training for a half marathon) did cause exercisers to eat more.38 When the body regulates energy balance like a thermostat, it apparently does so more through diet than through physical activity.

In this respect, I think it is important to own up to the fact that perhaps some of our worship habits are a missed opportunity; that we fail to draw on the formative riches of the tradition and thereby shut down channels for the Spirit’s work. I think we need to be honest that Christians in North America (and elsewhere) have perhaps developed some bad habits in this regard. We may have construed worship as a primarily didactic, cognitive affair and thus organized it around a message that fails to reach our embodied hearts, and thus fails to touch our desire. Or we may have construed worship as a refueling event—a chance primarily to get what I “need” to make it through the week (perhaps with a top-up on Wednesday night), with the result that worship is more about me than about God, more about individual fulfillment than about the constitution of a people. Or we may have reduced gathered worship to evangelism and outreach, pushing us to drop some of the stranger elements of liturgy in order to be relevant and accessible. In all these cases, we’ll notice that some key elements of the church’s liturgical tradition drop out. Key historical practices are left behind. While we might be inclined to think of this as a way to update worship and make it contemporary, my concern is that in the process we lose key aspects of formation and discipleship. In particular, we lose precisely those worship practices that function as counter-formations to the liturgies of the mall, the stadium, and the frat house. We also lose a sense that worship is the “work of the people”—that the “work of praise” is something we can only do as a people who are an eschatological foretaste of the coming kingdom of God. In short, we lose the sense in which Christian worship is also political: it marks us out as and trains us to be a peculiar people who are citizens of another city and subjects of a coming King.

It seems to me that it perpetuates itself, this exchange of nothing. Behind it is an existential exhaustion, the sickness, the fear, the lockdowns, the stretching of the human mind past its capacity to manage. We have been running on empty for so long that we've lost the urge to refuel. We have spent so long anxiously scanning the news that we are now in a fixed state of objectless checking. This is our reading matter now. We are not looking for anything, we are just looking. It seems that if we stop looking, something terrible could happen. Looking is our magical thinking. It used to feel protective, but now it's turned dark. Now, if we don't check, if we don't perpetually look over our shoulder, we suspect we might bring about disaster. The last thing propping up the sky is our eternal vigilance.