Registry Quotes

Zara: It's just a registry... Kit: Am I the only one who's read X-Men and realizes why this is a bad idea?

People that hold onto hate for so long do so because they want to avoid dealing with their pain. They falsely believe if they forgive they are letting their enemy believe they are a doormat. What they don’t understand is hatred can’t be isolated or turned off. It manifests in their health, choices and belief systems. Their values and religious beliefs make adjustments to justify their negative emotions. Not unlike malware infesting a hard drive, their spirit slowly becomes corrupted and they make choices that don’t make logical sense to others. Hatred left unaddressed will crash a person’s spirit. The only thing he or she can do is to reboot, by fixing him or herself, not others. This might require installing a firewall of boundaries or parental controls on their emotions. Regardless of the approach, we are all connected on this "network of life" and each of us is responsible for cleaning up our spiritual registry.

I’ve watched hundreds of deed transfers take place right here on the steps of the Registry,” Michele mused. “At those moments of transfer, I’ve seen in the eyes of desperate sellers an emotional reconciliation of irrevocably relinquishing a homestead, a treasured dominion, willingly or otherwise. Perhaps all these deeds, Mr. Geoffrey…perhaps they, too, have their own soul, a predilection that would tell me more than what they say if only I had the capacity to ask.

Number one on the roster was a boy, everything began with the boys, and that felt like the right, natural thing. Boys lined up first, boys led every procession no matter where they were headed, boys gave their presentations first, and boys had their homework checked first while the girls quietly waited their turn, bored, sometimes relieved that they weren’t going first, but never thinking this was a strange practice. Just as we never question why men’s national registry numbers begin with a “1” and women’s begin with a “2.

A CRUSH, A KISS, AND CRUSHING HEARTACHE: [ARE YOU GUYS KIDDING ME??? THIS HAS SOOOOOO BEEN REDACTED. AND AS SOON AS I CAN FIGURE OUT HOW TO EDIT THE SUBHEADINGS ON THESE FILES, THAT’S GETTING REDACTED TOO! BE GLAD I’M NOT PULLING A KEEFE AND EDITING MY ENTIRE FILE. AND SERIOUSLY, STAY OUT OF MY PERSONAL LIFE! GAH—WHY WOULD THE REGISTRY BE TRACKING THIS???????]

You will come with us. We are at home with situations of legal ambiguity. The treaties under which our arm of the Registry operates grant us a great deal of flexibility. And we create flexibility, in situations where it is required.

There were these things and the flames ate these things, and since fire doesn't distinguish between the word of God and the word of the Soviet Communications Registry Bureau, both Qur'an and telephone directory returned to His mouth in the same inhalation of smoke.

When I get married, I'm gonna register at Bank of America.

He was distressed to learn that the Pottery Barn Kids gift registry did not extend to children's books in Italian or Yiddish.

Oh! To rationalize oneself into matrimony...Oh! To decide something so grave in life 'after mature consideration'! Choose the color of a dress after a thousand hesitations, but for God's sake, get married without reflecting on it! That's the grace I wish I wish for you. May you even be so distracted that day that you walk past the registry office without remembering to stop there.

[I’M NOT YOUR LEGACY-BOY] Sencen NOTE: Despite numerous attempts—and lots of enhancements to registry security—the information in this file remains hopelessly altered, presumably by Keefe Sencen, who was likely given access by Dex Dizznee. Until we can figure out how they did it, we can’t seem to fix it.

It’s usually a good idea to restart the computer after changing the registry, as many changes do not take effect until restarting the computer.

Dex’s technopathy skills extend far beyond gadget creation, and likely also include the ability to tamper with registry feeds and hack into registry files. For this reason, it might be wise to [REDACTED. NICE TRY, GUYS. I’M ONTO YOU!]

Of course, for some bizarre reason, we don't have a National Registry of Who Your Friends Are. One would assume that this administration would have thought of that, and rammed it through Congress. It would certainly make my work easier now.

In this life that sometimes seems to be a vast, ill-defined landscape without signposts, amid all of the vanishing lines and the lost horizons, we hope to find reference points, to draw up some sort of land registry so as to shake the impression that we are navigating by chance. So we forge ties, we try to find stability in chance encounters.

There are eternal bonds which are made in registry offices and in churches, there are eternal bonds which are made in other and stranger and more terrible ways.

L'amore ha i suoi differenti toni, i suoi variegati registri, non sta quasi mai in silenzio. Non è taciturno, ma parla, strepita, canta, inveisce. Ferisce, non solo l'orecchio. L'amore talvolta è violento.

The next morning he drove the stranger’s car half way to the Registry of Motor Vehicles before he realized he could not apply for a driver’s license. He suddenly realized he had left his name at the prison.

From the perspective of the world's national security apparatuses you exist in several locations. You appear on property and income-tax registries, on passport and ID card databases. You show up on passenger manifests and telephone logs . . . You are fingertip swirls, facial ratios, dental records, voice patterns, spending trails, e-mail threads.

Someone had turned the National Sex Offender Registry into a social networking site for pedophiles. The start-up from hell.

The profiles of the people who like my online dating profile look like a sex-offender registry.

Memory is the cabinet of imagination, the treasury of reason, the registry of conscience, and the council chamber of thought.

Although not a person whom one could give as an example or model of bravery, Senhor José, after his years in the Central Registry, has acquired a knowledge of the night, of shadows, obscurity and darkness that makes up for his natural timidity and now permits him, without excessive fear, to reach his arm into the body of the dragon in search of the light switch.

The Registry is a special database in the computer that contains a multitude (literally thousands) of configuration settings used by Windows and many of the programs installed on the computer

You added the feeding pillow to the list?” he asks as we turn down the nursing aisle. “I told you I did.” I look down at the iPad though to make sure I really did. (I did.) When I look up again, he’s holding up the two pumps from a double electric breast pump on display to his chest. “Please, please, please can we get these?” I roll my eyes. “Oh my God. Are you twelve?” I don’t mention his second slip of the word “we.” “This is like having a video game on your chest.” He pretends to shoot the pumps in my direction. I snatch one out of his hand. “Yeah, that’s exactly what it’s like.” “I’d never leave my house.” He’s examining the remaining pump, as if trying to figure out how he could make one of his own. “You’d never leave the house if you had breasts, period.” I grab the second one from him and return it to the shelf. He stands over my shoulder to look at the screen of the registry iPad. “Put it on the list. Put it on. Put. It. On.” Shaking my head, I add it to the list.

The law says they aren’t allowed to share the info with anyone else, but of course they did—who wouldn’t?—so now we’re marked for life. His picture is even posted on the New Jersey Sex Offender Internet Registry.

perhaps she would finally ask him what the devil the Central Registry was up to going to so much trouble over one person, a woman of no importance, it would be an indecent lie, as well as arrant stupidity, to tell her that we are all equal in the eyes of the Central Registry, just as the sun is there for everyone each time it rises, there are things one should avoid saying to an older person if we don’t want them to laugh in our faces.

You desperately want all the right tools because you want to mother 'the right way'. But motherhood is messy, and raw, and nuanced, and requires things a baby registry could never provide: surrender, and trust, and dependence on the Lord Almighty to fuel you with grace, with perseverance, with steadfast love, with sacrificial willingness to get up the next morning with your eyes half shut and do it all over again. That is what you need to mother.

... the General Cemetery's unwritten motto is All the Names, although it should be said that, in fact, these three words fit the Central Registry like a glove, because it is there that all the names are to be found, both those of the dead and those of the living, while the cemetery, given its role as ultimate destination and ultimate depository, has to content itself only with the names of the dead. This mathematical evidence, however, is not enough to silence the keepers of the General Cemetery who, confronted by what they call their apparent numerical inferiority, usually shrug their shoulders and argue, With time and patience everyone ends up here, the Central Registry, from this point of view, is merely a tributary of the General Cemetery.

We were married in April, in a small registry office off Euston Square. No parents invited. And no God. Nothing religious, at Kathy’s insistence. But I said a secret prayer during the ceremony. I silently thanked Him for giving me such unexpected, undeserved happiness. I saw things clearly now, I understood His greater purpose. God hadn’t abandoned me during my childhood, when I had felt so alone and so scared—He had been keeping Kathy hidden up His sleeve, waiting to produce her, like a deft magician.

The reality is that the United States lacks a centralized gun registry, which seriously limits the ability of law enforcement to prevent and investigate crimes in a country with 4.5 percent of the world’s population but 42 percent of the civilian-owned guns.

It had been four years. Four years ago, the return home had been to take care of paperwork related to the family registry when I got married. When I thought back on it, what a pointless trip! I thought it was all paperwork. The problem was that nobody else thought it. It comes down to the different ways in which minds work. What's over for one person isn't over for another. But the path splits in two different directions, and so you end up apart. From that point on there was no hometown for me. Nowhere to return to. What a relief! No one to want me, no one to want anything from me.

It’s a bit ironic, you know,” Henry says, gazing up at it. “Me, the cursed gay heir, standing here in Victoria’s museum, considering how much she loved those sodomy laws.” He smirks. “Actually … you remember how I told you about the gay king, James I?” “The one with the dumb jock boyfriend?” “Yes, that one. Well, his most beloved favorite was a man named George Villiers. ‘The handsomest-bodied man in all of England,’ they called him. James was completely besotted. Everyone knew. This French poet, de Viau, wrote a poem about it.” He clears his throat and starts to recite: “‘One man fucks Monsieur le Grand, another fucks the Comte de Tonnerre, and it is well known that the King of England, fucks the Duke of Buckingham.’” Alex must be staring, because he adds, “Well, it rhymes in French. Anyway. Did you know the reason the King James translation of the Bible exists is because the Church of England was so displeased with James for flaunting his relationship with Villiers that he had the translation commissioned to appease them?” “You’re kidding.” “He stood in front of the Privy Council and said, ‘Christ had John, and I have George.’” “Jesus.” “Precisely.” Henry’s still looking up at the statue, but Alex can’t stop looking at him and the sly smile on his face, lost in his own thoughts. “And James’s son, Charles I, is the reason we have dear Samson. It’s the only Giambologna that ever left Florence. He was a gift to Charles from the King of Spain, and Charles gave it, this massive, absolutely priceless masterpiece of a sculpture, to Villiers. And a few centuries later, here he is. One of the most beautiful pieces we own, and we didn’t even steal it. We only needed Villiers and his trolloping ways with the queer monarchs. To me, if there were a registry of national gay landmarks in Britain, Samson would be on it.

in the Central Registry there were only words, in the Central Registry you could not see how faces had changed or continued to change, when that was precisely what was most important, the thing that time changes, not the name, which never changes. When Senhor José’s stomach began to rumble, there were seven

The chief legacy of Toms River instead has been to solidify governmental opposition to conducting any more Toms River–style investigations. And because only governments have unimpeded access to cancer registry information (due to privacy concerns), if public agencies do not investigate clusters, then no one will.

[ARE YOU GUYS KIDDING ME??? THIS HAS SOOOOOO BEEN REDACTED. AND AS SOON AS I CAN FIGURE OUT HOW TO EDIT THE SUBHEADINGS ON THESE FILES, THAT’S GETTING REDACTED TOO! BE GLAD I’M NOT PULLING A KEEFE AND EDITING MY ENTIRE FILE. AND SERIOUSLY, STAY OUT OF MY PERSONAL LIFE! GAH—WHY WOULD THE REGISTRY BE TRACKING THIS???????]

Well, sure, I understood. In this life that sometimes seems to be a vast, ill-defined landscape without signposts, amid all of the vanishing lines and the lost horizons, we hope to find reference points, to draw up some sort of land registry so as to shake the impression that we are navigating by chance. So we forge ties, we try to find stability in chance encounters.

You desperately want all the right tools because you want to mother “the right way.” But motherhood is messy, and raw, and nuanced, and requires things a baby registry could never provide: surrender, and trust, and dependence on the Lord Almighty to fuel you with grace, with perseverance, with steadfast love, with a sacrificial willingness to get up the next morning with your eyes half shut and do it all over again.

I have always found it difficult not to be moved by Jerusalem, even when I hated it—and God knows I have hated it for the sheer human cost of it. But the sight of it, from afar or inside the labyrinth of its walls, softens me. Every inch of it holds the confidence of ancient civilizations, their deaths and their birthmarks pressed deep into the city's viscera and onto the rubble of its edges. The deified and the condemned have set their footprints in its sand. It has been conqured, razed and, rebuilt so many times that its stones seem to possess life, bestowed by the audit trail of prayer and blood. Yet somehow, it exhales humility. It sparks an inherent sense of familiary in me—that doubtless, irrefutable Palestinian certainty that I belong to this land. It possesses me, no matter who conquers it, because its soil is the keeper of my roots, of the bones of my ancestors. Because it knows the private lust that flamed the beds of all my foremothers. Because I am the natural seed of its passionate, tempestuous past. I am a daughter of the land, and Jerusalem reassures me of this inalienable right, far more than the yellowed property deeds, the Ottoman land registries, the iron keys to our stolen homes, or UN resolutions and decrees of superpowers could ever do.

People get rid of plenty when they move—sometimes they’re changing not just places but personalities. Up or down “the economic ladder.” Maybe the bed won’t fit in the new place, or the sofa’s too boxy, or they’re newlyweds and put a new living-room set on their registry. A lot of these white-flight families splitting for the suburbs, Long Island and Westchester, they’re making a whole new start—shaking the city off, and that means getting rid of how they used to see themselves.

IT MAY LOOK FUNKY, BUT THE TWIGGLER HACKED THROUGH LUMENARIA’S SECURITY AND HELPED SAVE THE GNOMES! FIRST: THIS IS A PANIC SWITCH—NOT A BORING COGNATE RING. IT ALSO SAVED SOPHIE’S LIFE TWICE. AND IT WORKS SO WELL THAT I’VE BEEN MAKING THEM FOR EVERYONE I CARE ABOUT! THE EVADER MAKES IT SUPER EASY TO HACK INTO THINGS LIKE THE REGISTRY—AND IT LEAVES NO TRACE THAT I WAS THERE! (WELL, UNLESS I CHANGE STUFF…) NOW I JUST NEED TO MAKE A FEW TWEAKS SO I CAN BYPASS THE SECURITY ON CERTAIN FILES.

Dex has developed a habit of changing the fur color of Sophie’s pet imp. He started doing this to cheer Sophie up after a hard day, and it has since turned into a regular occurrence. In fact, it’s possible the tiny creature may never be his natural fur color again. And while it feels strange including a section on multicolored imp fur in a registry file, the habit does also speak to Dex’s character. He’s creative, caring, and clever, and always looking for new ways to make people smile.

A villain. The enemy. Sandor watched Sophie tug on her eyelashes—her nervous habit, back in full force. “Nothing is going to happen,” he promised, tucking her blond hair behind her ear with a surprisingly gentle touch for a seven-foot-tall goblin warrior. It definitely helped having Sandor back at her side—especially after almost losing him during the battle on Mount Everest. And Sandor wasn’t the only goblin at Foxfire anymore. Each of the six wings in the main campus building had been assigned its own patrol, with two additional squadrons keeping watch over the sprawling grounds. The Council had also added security throughout the Lost Cities. They had to. The ogres were still threatening war. And in the three weeks since Sophie and her friends had returned from hiding with the Black Swan, the Neverseen had scorched the main gate of the Sanctuary and broken into the registry in Atlantis. Sophie could guess what the rebels had hoped to gain from the elves’ secret animal preserve—they obviously didn’t know that she’d convinced the Council to set the precious alicorns free. But the registry attack remained a mystery. The Councillors kept careful records on every elf ever born, and no one would tell her if any files had been altered or stolen. A bubble popped on Sophie’s head, and Sandor caught the box of Prattles that had been hovering inside. “If you’re going to eat these, I should check them first,” he told her. Sandor’s wide, flat nose scented no toxins in the nutty candy, but he insisted on examining the pin before handing them over. Every box of Prattles came with a special collectible inside, and in the past, the Black

One rather odd use of xerography insures that brides get the wedding presents they want. The prospective bride submits her list of preferred presents to a department store; the store sends the list to its bridal-registry counter, which is equipped with a Xerox copier; each friend of the bride, having been tactfully briefed in advance, comes to this counter and is issued a copy of the list, whereupon he does his shopping and then returns the copy with the purchased items checked off, so that the master list may be revised and thus ready for the next donor.

Eccomi qui, superbo come un dio greco, eppure in debito verso questo idiota per un osso su cui reggermi! Siano maledetti questi reciproci debiti degli umani, che non possono togliere di mezzo i libri mastri. Mi piacerebbe essere libero come l’aria, e invece sono segnato nei registri del mondo intero. Sono così ricco che avrei potuto rilanciare ogni offerta dei pretoriani più ricchi all’asta dell’impero romano (che era l’asta del mondo), eppure sono debitore perfino della carne della lingua con cui mi vanto. Per Dio! Prenderò un crogiuolo e mi ci dissolverò dentro fino a ridurmi ad una piccola vertebra che comprenda tutto. Proprio.

simple obviously being in her mind a key word in dealing with overwhelmed and cranky grooms. “Really really simple and neutral.” It seemed to be registry protocol that the groom should be allowed to select the casual china (I guess for all those Super Bowl parties I would be hosting with the guys, ha ha) while the “formal ware” should be left to the experts: the ladies. “It’s fine,” I said, more curtly than I’d meant to, when I realized they were waiting for me to say something. Plain, white, modern earthenware wasn’t something I could work up a lot of enthusiasm for, particularly when it went for four hundred dollars a plate. It made me think of the nice old Marimekko-clad ladies I sometimes went to see in the Ritz Tower: gravel-voiced, turban-wearing, panther-braceleted widows looking to move to Miami,

When researchers with the National Weight Control Registry examined the tactics used by successful dieters, they found that two characteristics, in particular, stood out. People who successfully maintain weight loss typically eat breakfast every morning. They also weigh themselves each day. Part of the reason why these habits matter is practical: Eating a healthy breakfast makes it less likely you will snack later in the day, according to studies. And frequently measuring your weight allows us—sometimes almost subconsciously—to see how changing our diets influences the pounds lost. But just as important is the mental boost that daily, incremental weight loss provides. The small win of dropping even half a pound can provide the dose of momentum we need to stick with a diet. We need to see small victories to believe a long battle will be won.

But then they hand you your beautiful baby, and the baby gazes up at you and says hello, and your heart just melts.” “It talks?” Sophie asked, then remembered Alden telling her months earlier that elvin babies spoke from birth. It sounded even stranger now that she could picture it. “Your speaking caused quite the uproar,” Mr. Forkle told her. “Though luckily no one could understand the Enlightened Language, so they thought you were babbling. I spent the majority of your infancy inventing excuses for the elvin things you did.” “Okay,” Sophie said, wishing he’d stop with the weird-info overload. “But what I mean is . . . I’ve been counting my age from my birthday.” Mr. Forkle didn’t look surprised. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “How could I? Humans built everything around their birthdays. As long as you were living with them I had to let you do the same. And since you’ve been in the Lost Cities, we’ve had so little contact. I assumed someone would notice, since your proper ID is on your Foxfire record—and in the registry. But I don’t think anyone realized you were counting differently.” “Alden wouldn’t have thought to check,” Della agreed. “Neither of us knew humans didn’t count inception.” “So wait,” Biana jumped in, “does that mean that by our rules Sophie is—” “Thirty-nine weeks older than she’s been saying,” Mr. Forkle finished for her. Fitz cocked his head as he stared at Sophie, like everything had turned sideways. “So then you’re not thirteen . . .” “Not according to the way we count,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “Going by Sophie’s ID, she’s fourteen and a little more than five months old.” Keefe laughed. “Only Foster would find a way to age nine months in a day. Also, welcome to the cool fourteen-year-olds club!” He held out his hand for a high five.

You who came of age in the past decade have had eight years of a Black U.S. president, and that gloss looked good, and there were even a few inches gained on some issues such as health care, and maybe that can cause a person to relax a bit. But think of how exponentially drone attacks increased under Obama, how many Black people were shot by police under Obama, because the violence is systemic. How many of the people now hearteningly pledging to sign up for a Muslim registry signed up for a Black Lives Matter or protested the discriminatory immigration program NSEERS? The National Security Entry-Exit Registration System subjected my students from the Middle East to hours of interrogation and intimidation every time they reentered after going home to visit their families, arbitrarily barred tons of innocent people from entry, and was ineffective against terrorism anyway. It's systemic injustice we are after changing, and we should not ever be lulled.

Hilda argued that our fate is more likely determined by what she called our “unique environment”—the one we do not share with anyone, not even our siblings. It is the environment we seek out and create for ourselves, for example, when we find something which delights and fascinates us and drives us in a certain direction. Rather like Blomkvist’s reaction as a young boy, perhaps, when he saw the film All the President’s Men and was struck by a strong urge to become a journalist. Heredity and environment interact constantly, Hilda wrote. We seek out occurrences and activities which stimulate our genes and make them flourish, and we avoid things which frighten us or make us uncomfortable. She based her conclusions on a series of studies, among others MISTRA, the Minnesota Study of Twins Reared Apart, and investigations by the Swedish Twin Registry at the Karolinska Institute. Identical twins, or so-called monozygotic twins, with their essentially indistinguishable sets of genes, are ideal subjects. Thousands of twins, both identical and fraternal, grow up apart from each other, either because one or both have been adopted, or, more rarely, as the result of some unfortunate mix-up in a maternity ward.

I have always found it difficult not to be moved by Jerusalem, even when I hated it—and God knows I have hated it for the sheer human cost of it. But the sight of it, from afar or inside the labyrinth of its walls, softens me. Every inch of it holds the confidence of ancient civilizations, their deaths and their birthmarks pressed deep into the city's viscera and onto the rubble of its edges. The deified and the condemned have set their footprints in its sand. It has been conquered, razed and, rebuilt so many times that its stones seem to possess life, bestowed by the audit trail of prayer and blood. Yet somehow, it exhales humility. It sparks an inherent sense of familiarity in me—that doubtless, irrefutable Palestinian certainty that I belong to this land. It possesses me, no matter who conquers it, because its soil is the keeper of my roots, of the bones of my ancestors. Because it knows the private lust that flamed the beds of all my foremothers. Because I am the natural seed of its passionate, tempestuous past. I am a daughter of the land, and Jerusalem reassures me of this inalienable right, far more than the yellowed property deeds, the Ottoman land registries, the iron keys to our stolen homes, or UN resolutions and decrees of superpowers could ever do.

E serve che si rompa l'isolamento e che sia incoraggiata ogni occasione buona per fare comunità, per stare e fare insieme: la festa (d'inverno, prima che d'estate!), la banda del paese e le musiche, il ritrovo per giocare e parlare e insieme vedere la televisione, i lavori condivisi, la gestione e la manutenzione collettiva degli spazi comuni, dell'acqua e delle strade. Poi serve che si torni a fare produrre la terra e il bosco, per tanto o per poco, per lavoro o per passatempo, per fare commercio o anche solo per l'orto di famiglia. E serve che i ristoratori e i negozi preparino e vendano il più possibile i prodotti locali, la carne degli allevamenti che tengono in vita i pascoli, le acque minerali più vicine. E bisogna fare in modoche chi lavora su questi monti possa farlo in pace, senza l'aggravio di oneri, registri, carte, controlli. E che i diritti comunitari della terra e le sue risorse siano preservati e sia interrotto il processo di liquidazione delle terre comuni e degli usi civici. È una cosa nobile recuperare la memoria, è bene farlo senza cedere alla nostalgia, ed è anche importante recuperare le musiche, le varietà agricole, le case e le ricette; ma ciò che, sopratutto, bisogna recuperare è la comunità, quella degli abitanti, quella di tutti i giorni, nel bello e nel cattivo tempo. La montagna può tornare a vivere.

The traditional Roman wedding was a splendid affair designed to dramatize the bride’s transfer from the protection of her father’s household gods to those of her husband. Originally, this literally meant that she passed from the authority of her father to her husband, but at the end of the Republic women achieved a greater degree of independence, and the bride remained formally in the care of a guardian from her blood family. In the event of financial and other disagreements, this meant that her interests were more easily protected. Divorce was easy, frequent and often consensual, although husbands were obliged to repay their wives’ dowries. The bride was dressed at home in a white tunic, gathered by a special belt which her husband would later have to untie. Over this she wore a flame-colored veil. Her hair was carefully dressed with pads of artificial hair into six tufts and held together by ribbons. The groom went to her father’s house and, taking her right hand in his, confirmed his vow of fidelity. An animal (usually a ewe or a pig) was sacrificed in the atrium or a nearby shrine and an Augur was appointed to examine the entrails and declare the auspices favorable. The couple exchanged vows after this and the marriage was complete. A wedding banquet, attended by the two families, concluded with a ritual attempt to drag the bride from her mother’s arms in a pretended abduction. A procession was then formed which led the bride to her husband’s house, holding the symbols of housewifely duty, a spindle and distaff. She took the hand of a child whose parents were living, while another child, waving a hawthorn torch, walked in front to clear the way. All those in the procession laughed and made obscene jokes at the happy couple’s expense. When the bride arrived at her new home, she smeared the front door with oil and lard and decorated it with strands of wool. Her husband, who had already arrived, was waiting inside and asked for her praenomen or first name. Because Roman women did not have one and were called only by their family name, she replied in a set phrase: “Wherever you are Caius, I will be Caia.” She was then lifted over the threshold. The husband undid the girdle of his wife’s tunic, at which point the guests discreetly withdrew. On the following morning she dressed in the traditional costume of married women and made a sacrifice to her new household gods. By the late Republic this complicated ritual had lost its appeal for sophisticated Romans and could be replaced by a much simpler ceremony, much as today many people marry in a registry office. The man asked the woman if she wished to become the mistress of a household (materfamilias), to which she answered yes. In turn, she asked him if he wished to become paterfamilias, and on his saying he did the couple became husband and wife.

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Are you ready, children?” Father Mikhail walked through the church. “Did I keep you waiting?” He took his place in front of them at the altar. The jeweler and Sofia stood nearby. Tatiana thought they might have already finished that bottle of vodka. Father Mikhail smiled. “Your birthday today,” he said to Tatiana. “Nice birthday present for you, no?” She pressed into Alexander. “Sometimes I feel that my powers are limited by the absence of God in the lives of men during these trying times,” Father Mikhail began. “But God is still present in my church, and I can see He is present in you. I am very glad you came to me, children. Your union is meant by God for your mutual joy, for the help and comfort you give one another in prosperity and adversity and, when it is God’s will, for the procreation of children. I want to send you righteously on your way through life. Are you ready to commit yourselves to each other?” “We are,” they said. “The bond and the covenant of marriage was established by God in creation. Christ himself adorned this manner of life by his first miracle at a wedding in Cana of Galilee. A marriage is a symbol of the mystery of the union between Christ and His Church. Do you understand that those whom God has joined together, no man can put asunder?” “We do,” they said. “Do you have the rings?” “We do.” Father Mikhail continued. “Most gracious God,” he said, holding the cross above their heads, “look with favor upon this man and this woman living in a world for which Your Son gave His life. Make their life together a sign of Christ’s love to this sinful and broken world. Defend this man and this woman from every enemy. Lead them into peace. Let their love for each other be a seal upon their hearts, a mantle upon their shoulders, and a crown upon their foreheads. Bless them in their work and in their friendship, in their sleeping and in their waking, in their joys and their sorrows, in their life and in their death.” Tears trickled down Tatiana’s face. She hoped Alexander wouldn’t notice. Father Mikhail certainly had. Turning to Tatiana and taking her hands, Alexander smiled, beaming at her unrestrained happiness. Outside, on the steps of the church, he lifted her off the ground and swung her around as they kissed ecstatically. The jeweler and Sofia clapped apathetically, already down the steps and on the street. “Don’t hug her so tight. You’ll squeeze that child right out of her,” said Sofia to Alexander as she turned around and lifted her clunky camera. “Oh, wait. Hold on. Let me take a picture of the newlyweds.” She clicked once. Twice. “Come to me next week. Maybe I’ll have some paper by then to develop them.” She waved. “So you still think the registry office judge should have married us?” Alexander grinned. “He with his ‘of sound mind’ philosophy on marriage?” Tatiana shook her head. “You were so right. This was perfect. How did you know this all along?” “Because you and I were brought together by God,” Alexander replied. “This was our way of thanking Him.” Tatiana chuckled. “Do you know it took us less time to get married than to make love the first time?” “Much less,” Alexander said, swinging her around in the air. “Besides, getting married is the easy part. Just like making love. It was the getting you to make love to me that was hard. It was the getting you to marry me…” “I’m sorry. I was so nervous.” “I know,” he said. He still hadn’t put her down. “I thought the chances were twenty-eighty you were actually going to go through with it.” “Twenty against?” “Twenty for.” “Got to have a little more faith, my husband,” said Tatiana, kissing his lips.

HER HUSBAND’S ALMOST HOME. He’ll catch her this time. There isn’t a scrap of curtain, not a blade of blind, in number 212—the rust-red townhome that once housed the newlywed Motts, until recently, until they un-wed. I never met either Mott, but occasionally I check in online: his LinkedIn profile, her Facebook page. Their wedding registry lives on at Macy’s. I could still buy them flatware. As I was saying: not even a window dressing. So number 212 gazes blankly across the street, ruddy and raw, and I gaze right back, watching the mistress of the manor lead her contractor into the guest bedroom. What is it about that house? It’s where love goes to die. She’s lovely, a genuine redhead, with grass-green eyes and an archipelago of tiny moles trailing across her back. Much prettier than her husband, a Dr. John Miller, psychotherapist—yes, he offers couples counseling—and one of 436,000 John Millers online. This particular specimen works near Gramercy Park and does not accept insurance. According to the deed of sale, he paid $3.6 million for his house. Business must be good. I know both more and less about the wife. Not much of a homemaker, clearly; the Millers moved in eight weeks ago, yet still those windows are bare, tsk-tsk. She practices yoga three times a week, tripping down the steps with her magic-carpet mat rolled beneath one arm, legs shrink-wrapped in Lululemon. And she must volunteer someplace—she leaves the house a little past eleven on Mondays and Fridays, around the time I get up, and returns between five and five thirty, just as I’m settling in for my nightly film. (This evening’s selection: The Man Who Knew Too Much, for the umpteenth time. I am the woman who viewed too much.) I’ve noticed she likes a drink in the afternoon, as do I. Does she also like a drink in the morning? As do I? But her age is a mystery, although she’s certainly younger than Dr. Miller, and younger than me (nimbler, too); her name I can only guess at. I think of her as Rita, because she looks like Hayworth in Gilda. “I’m not in the least interested”—love that line. I myself am very much interested. Not in her body—the pale ridge of her spine, her shoulder blades like stunted wings, the baby-blue bra clasping her breasts: whenever these loom within my lens, any of them, I look away—but in the life she leads. The lives. Two more than I’ve got.

THE GREAT GULON INCIDENT: [JUST GONNA LEAVE THIS ONE WITH: REDACTED] [NOT THAT I HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS!] THE VACKER CONNECTION: [UH, FITZY’S MY BEST FRIEND—NOT A “CONNECTION.” AND ALDEN AND DELLA ARE WAY NICER TO ME THAN MY OWN PARENTS ARE. BIANA’S SUPER AWESOME TOO. ALVAR… NOT SO MUCH. I PROBABLY SHOULD’VE SEEN THAT ONE COMING. BUT WHATEVER, MY POINT IS: I DIDN’T TRY TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH THE VACKERS—NO MATTER WHAT WEIRD STUFF WAS IN ONE OF MY ERASED MEMORIES. SO DON’T GO THINKING THERE’S MORE TO IT THAN THAT.] [AND HOW DO YOU GUYS EVEN KNOW ABOUT THAT MEMORY? THAT KINDA MAKES ME WANT TO RIP THIS REGISTRY PENDANT OFF MY NECK AND THROW IT FAR, FAR AWAY!] INSTANT RIVALRY: [YOU THINK BANGS BOY AND ME ARE “RIVALS”? HATE TO BREAK IT TO YOU, BUT NOPE! I MEAN, YEAH, HE’S SUPER ANNOYING WITH ALL THE “LOOK AT ME, I’M A MOODY SHADE” NONSENSE—AND HIS HAIR IS TOTALLY RIDICULOUS. BUT THERE’S NO RIVALRY. JUST DON’T EXPECT US TO BE BESTIES, AND WE’LL BE GOOD.] UNWITTING ERRAND BOY: [OKAY, THAT SUBHEADING MAKES ME WANT TO PUNCH WHOEVER WROTE IT IN THE MOUTH. BUT… I GUESS IT’S ALSO KIND OF TRUE. MY MOM DID HAVE ME DO STUFF AND THEN ERASE MY MEMORIES SO I WOULDN’T KNOW ABOUT IT. MOM OF THE YEAR, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. TRY NOT TO BE JEALOUS.] [AND I’M WORKING ON GETTING THOSE MEMORIES BACK, BY THE WAY. I’VE BEEN FILLING JOURNALS WITH DRAWINGS AND EVERYTHING. IT’S JUST TAKING A WHILE BECAUSE I’VE BEEN A LITTLE BUSY ALMOST DYING AND STUFF.] TEAM FOSTER-KEEFE: [WOO-HOO, TEAM FOSTER-KEEFE IS OFFICIALLY A THING!] [BUT THE REST OF THE STUFF IN THIS SECTION IS SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO GETTING REDACTED. SERIOUSLY—BOUNDARIES, PEOPLE! FOSTER’S AMAZING—AND OBVIOUSLY WORKING WITH ME MAKES HER EVEN MORE AMAZING. BUT YOU GUYS NEED TO STOP WITH ALL OF YOUR WEIRDO SPECULATING.] ONE PART OF A TRIANGLE: [OKAY, THAT’S IT. I’M DEEEEEEEEEEFINITELY DITCHING THIS PENDANT THING. WHY IS THE COUNCIL PAYING ATTENTION TO THIS STUFF???????????] [ACTUALLY, YOU KNOW WHAT? IT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, BUT I’M GOING TO ADD ONE THING: FOSTER GETS TO DO WHATEVER SHE WANTS, OKAY? SHE CAN LIKE WHOEVER SHE WANTS. OR BE CONFUSED ABOUT WHAT SHE’S FEELING. SHE CAN EVEN BE OBLIVIOUS—IT’S HER LIFE. HER CHOICE. AND EVERYONE NEEDS TO STAY OUT OF IT.] [EVEN ME.] [ESPECIALLY ME. I WOULD NEVER WANT TO…] [NEVER MIND. MY POINT IS, LET THE POOR GIRL FIGURE THIS OUT ON HER OWN. AND SERIOUSLY, STAY OUT OF OUR LIVES!!!!]

Sam was about to travel to Asia with her boyfriend and she was fretting about what her backers would think if she released some of her new songs while she was 'on vacation'. She was worried that posting pictures of herself sipping a Mai Tai was going to make her look like an asshole. What does it matter? I asked her, where you are whether you're drinking a coffee, a Mai Tai or a bottle of water? I mean, aren't they paying for your songs so that you can... live? Doesn't living include wandering and collecting emotions and drinking a Mai Tai, not just sitting in a room writing songs without ever leaving the house? I told Sam about another songwriter friend of mine, Kim Boekbinder, who runs her own direct support website through which her fans pay her monthly at levels from $5 to $1,000. She also has a running online wishlist of musical gear and costumes kindof like a wedding registry, to which her fans can contribute money anytime they want. Kim had told me a few days before that she doesn't mind charging her backers during what she calls her 'staring at the wall time'. She thinks this is essential before she can write a new batch of songs. And her fans don't complain, they trust her process. These are new forms of patronage, there are no rules and it's messy, the artists and the patrons they are making the rules as they go along, but whether these artists are using crowdfunding (which is basically, front me some money so I can make a thing) or subscription services (which is more like pay me some money every month so that I can make things) or Patreon, which is like pay per piece of content pledge service (that basically means pay me some money every time I make a thing). It doesn't matter, the fundamental building block of all of these relationships boils down to the same simple thing: trust. If you're asking your fans to support you, the artist, it shouldn't matter what your choices are, as long as you're delivering your side of the bargain. You may be spending the money on guitar picks, Mai Tais, baby formula, college loans, gas for the car or coffee to fuel your all-night writing sessions. As long as art is coming out the other side, and you're making your patrons happy, the money you need to live (and need to live is hard to define) is almost indistinguishable from the money you need to make art. ... (6:06:57) ... When she posts a photo of herself in a vintage dress that she just bought, no one scolds her for spending money on something other than effects pedals. It's not like her fan's money is an allowance with nosy and critical strings attached, it's a gift in the form of money in exchange for her gift, in the form of music. The relative values are... messy. But if we accept the messiness we're all okay. If Beck needs to moisturize his cuticles with truffle oil in order to play guitar tracks on his crowdfunded record, I don't care that the money I fronted him isn't going towards two turntables or a microphone; just as long as the art gets made, I get the album and Beck doesn't die in the process.

The Chemical Abstracts Service of the American Chemical Society maintains a registry that includes (at the moment) descriptions of 67,883,986 “commercially available chemicals” (many are themselves used in synthesis), and 56,703,135 descriptions of synthetic procedures.

Extended Arms Registry offers skilled senior care provider. As an established and reliable In home care provider, Extended Arms Registry is well equipped to match you up with a skilled and qualified caregiver, who can tend to your needs and assist you in several ways to make your daily life much easier.

Leo spoke before she could say a word. "I'd like to arrange a room for my wife and myself." His wife? Catherine twisted to give him an offended glance. "I want my own room. And I'm not-" "She doesn't, really." Leo smiled at the innkeeper, the rueful, commiserating smile of one put-upon man to another. "A marital squabble. She's cross because I won't let her mother visit us." "Ahhh..." The innkeeper made an ominous sound and bent to write in the registry book. "Don't give in, sir. They never leave when they say they will. When my mother-in-law visits, the mice throw themselves at the cat, begging to be eaten. Your name?" "Mr. and Mrs. Hathaway." "But-" Catherine began, nettled. She broke off as she felt the carpetbag quiver in her grasp. Dodger wanted to get out. She had to keep him hidden until they were safely upstairs. "All right," she said shortly. "Let's hurry." Leo smiled. "Eager to make up after our quarrel, darling?" She gave him a look that should have stayed him on the spot.

I want my own room. And I’m not—” “She doesn’t, really.” Leo smiled at the innkeeper, the rueful, commiserating smile of one put-upon man to another. “A marital squabble. She’s cross because I won’t let her mother visit us.” “Ahhh…” The innkeeper made an ominous sound and bent to write in the registry book. “Don’t give in, sir. They never leave when they say they will. When my mother-in-law visits, the mice throw themselves at the cat, begging to be eaten.

in the minds of many genetic engineers at the time—there was no difference between cells and computers. Computers use a software code of 1s and 0s, whereas biology uses a code of As, Cs, Ts, and Gs. Computers use compilers and storage registries; biology uses RNA (ribonucleic acid) and ribosomes. Computers use peripherals; biology uses proteins.

The argument most often heard in favor of the registries after they are established, is that, given the violence perpetuated by many autistics and “autistics”, it is good to know who and where they are at any given time, just like it is important to know the whereabouts of convicted sex offenders after their release from court proceedings or prison.

Another reason for people running autistic advocacy groups to get on autism registries is because the need for autistic rights groups is diminishing in light of national healthcare systems increasingly becoming more hands on (some say intrusive) in people's lives. It has already been determined by most governments who is getting what in terms of medical care, and while people can petition for more, it is doubtful they will receive much given that there is only a finite amount of funds available which must be distributed to everyone. But if a person can get into the existing pool, at least they can get a cut of “what's due them,” even if they aren't really autistic. It's

Finally, (and as I said before) another use for the autism registries is that they can give a “true” accounting of how many autistics there really are. But this case isn't just being made by autistic advocacy organizations, but by organizations who are making the case for an in utero genetic test for autism. If they can take the numbers from the registries and use them to point out that the “autism epidemic” is raging out of control, they can point out that an in utero genetic test for autism is needed now, so that autistics can be aborted out of the human race before the human race becomes too sullied and unpure. Many

Things aren't as black or white as they seem, Mia. Don't let your head get so locked in one direction that you can't see the destruction you leave behind you.

It was time to begin making notes on how the search was going, the people he had met, the conversations he had had, his thoughts, his plans and tactics for an investigation that promised to be complex, The steps taken by someone in search of someone else, he thought, and the truth is, that although the process was only in its early stages, he already had a lot to say, If this were a novel, he murmured as he opened the notebook, the conversation with the lady in the ground-floor apartment would be a chapter in itself. He picked up a pen to begin but stopped halfway, his eyes caught the paper on which he had written down the addresses, there was something he hadn’t considered before the perfectly plausible hypothesis that the unknown woman, after she got divorced, had gone to live with her parents, the equally possible hypothesis that her husband had left the apartment, leaving the telephone in his name. If that was so, and bearing in mind that the street in question was near the Central Registry, the woman on the bus might well have been the same one. The inner dialogue seemed to want to start up again, It was, It wasn’t, It was, It wasn’t, but this time, Senhor José paid no heed to it and, bending over the notebook, he began to write the first words, Thus, I went into the building, went up the stairs to the second floor and listened at the door of the apartment where the unknown woman was born, then I heard a little baby crying, it could be her child I thought, and, at the same time, I heard a woman crooning to it softly, It must be her, later, I found out that it wasn’t.

Good morning to Karen’s fertile and barren friends. I thought I’d send over the plan for the completely unnecessary, mawkish, and expensive non-tradition borrowed from America that is our friend Karen’s baby shower. Karen thinks it’s always good to demand money and time from people to celebrate her own personal life choices and we felt you haven’t given her quite enough in recent history, what, with the $1500 pound hen do in Ibiza, wedding in Majorca with a strict dress code, and gift registry at Selfridges. (NB: ladies-- if you get a new job or buy or flat on your own, you get a card and that’s it! We want to make sure there’s no prprecedent set. We’re not made of money!!) The good news is, after Karen gives birth she won’t see any of her childless friends unless all they want to do is talk about her baby and nothing else. So you can treat this as her farewell party as well as her baby shower. And save those pennies for a couple of years, that is of course until she comes back to you when she’s stopped breast feeding and is bored out of her mind, demands you all go out to drink, dance, and take loads of drugs, then sends you an offish text the following week saying she can’t really have a night out like that again because “I’M A MOTHER NOW.

What she’s lost, really, is her closest ally: someone just as fiercely independent, just as passionate about his work, someone who – not so long ago – would’ve shuddered at the thought of wedding registries filled with fancy china and fondue sets. It’s a smaller loss. But it’s still a loss

Woo!” Cas yelled. “Did you see that?” She waved the book. “The power of love, bitches!” I frowned. “Did she steal the wedding registry book?” “It appears so.” Alex ruffled his hair, shaking sand free.

The term ‘ocean acidification’ was only coined in 2003, by the atmospheric scientist Ken Caldeira. According to the media registry Tímarit.is, this concept first appeared in print in Icelandic, súrnun sjávar , in the newspaper Morgunbladid on 12 September 2006. After that, it appeared once in 2007, never in 2008 and twice in 2009. By contrast, the word ‘profit’, hagnadur , came up 1,170 times in 2006 and 540 times in 2009, according to the same source. By 2011, the debate had developed only so far as to warrant five print occurrences of ‘ocean acidification’. ‘Kardashian’ appeared 180 times.

Il nuovo dizionario inglese Oxford-Paravia vuole caratterizzarsi come moderno dizionario generale, valido sia come sussidio didattico sia come strumento professionale, che permetta di affrontare la lingua contemporanea nei suoi diversi registri, dal colloquiale al letterario, e che riservi tutta la necessaria attenzione ai linguaggi specifici delle attività

God knew what they had been through before they had decided to sail for America. Here, at Ellis Island, all of their fright, courage, and - most of all- hope, funneled into this one moment: passing through the registry office to the stairwell, the exit to their freedom, and to possibilities of which they could only dream before now.

Books in the Land Registry archive contain almost as much information on the realities of life as the complete works of the most respected philosophers - if not more.

I am the middling type, for whom flirtation is neither a demeaning jape nor an Icarus-like tilt at the sun. Flirting with a middling girl is a dangerous business, because we might - indeed, we probably will - take it seriously. And before the poor chap knows it, there'll be a bun in the oven and a hastily arranged rendezvous at the Registry Office.

Proximity to Whiteness can help immigrants and people of color literally survive in this country. Your othering will be minimized, and if you're lucky, you can be spared from discrimination, profiling, and ending up on the wrong registries.

Brewer found a list of names of offshore corporations, along with country of registry, nominating agent, and other related material for each one.

Jewish Israelis who marry Jews from abroad needn’t worry about their spouses’ citizenship. But Israel tracks Palestinian noncitizens through a population registry, and it bars Palestinian citizens from passing on their status to anyone on that registry—abroad or in the West Bank.

We were once great boulders, said the sand to the sea, Mighty and steadfast in our registry — ’Till time and wind came calling, to bring about our falling...

Sector Human Registry is the database that keeps track of everyone’s identity. It involves DNA testing as an infant, and then constant, weekly monitoring of growth, emotional and intellectual intelligence, hormone levels, personality tests—basically everything that’s possible to know about an individual.

16 In 1994, Congress passed the Jacob Wetterling Crimes against Children and Sexually Violent Offender Registration Act, which effectively required every state to establish a sex offender registry by 1997. 17

I absolutely refuse to let those people at the motor registry take my photograph. Their lighting set-up is terrible. They seem to take cruel delight in making everyone look like they’ve been dead for six months.

in Canada, Hawaii, Chicago, or Washington, D.C., police are unable to point to a single instance of gun registration aiding the investigation of a violent crime. In a 2013 deposition, D.C. Police Chief Cathy Lanier said that the department could not “recall any specific instance where registration records were used to determine who committed a crime.”1 The idea behind a registry is that guns left at a crime scene can be used to trace back to the criminals. Unfortunately, guns are very rarely left at the scene of the crime. Those that are left behind are virtually never registered—criminals are not stupid enough to leave behind guns registered to them. In the few cases where registered guns were left at the scene, the criminal had usually been killed or seriously injured. Canada keeps some of the most thorough data on gun registration. From 2003 to 2009, a weapon was identified in fewer than a third of the country’s 1,314 firearm homicides. Of these identified weapons, only about a quarter were registered. Roughly half of these registered guns were registered to someone other than the person accused of the homicide. In just sixty-two cases—4.7 percent of all firearm homicides—was the gun identified as being registered to the accused. Since most Canadian homicides are not committed with a gun, these sixty-two cases correspond to only about 1 percent of all homicides. From 2003 to 2009, there were only sixty-two cases—just nine a year—where registration made any conceivable difference. But apparently, the registry was not important even in those cases. Despite a handgun registry in effect since 1934, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and the Chiefs of Police have not yet provided a single example in which tracing was of more than peripheral importance in solving a case. No more successful was the long-gun registry that started in 1997 and cost Canadians $2.7 billion before being scrapped. In February 2000, I testified before the Hawaii State Senate joint hearing between the Judiciary and Transportation committees on changes that were being proposed to the state gun registration laws.2 I suggested two questions to the state senators: (1) how many crimes had been solved by their current registration and licensing system, and (2) how much time did it currently take police to register guns? The Honolulu police chief was notified in advance about those questions to give him time to research them. He told the committee that he could not point to any crimes that had been solved by registration, and he estimated that his officers spent over 50,000 hours each year on registering guns. But those aren’t the only failings of gun registration. Ballistic fingerprinting was all the rage fifteen years ago. This process requires keeping a database of the markings that a particular gun makes on a bullet—its unique fingerprint, so to speak. Maryland led the way in ballistic investigation, and New York soon followed. The days of criminal gun use were supposedly numbered. It didn’t work.3 Registering guns’ ballistic fingerprints never solved a single crime. New York scrapped its program in 2012.4 In November 2015, Maryland announced it would be doing the same.5 But the programs were costly. Between 2000 and 2004, Maryland spent at least $2.5 million setting up and operating its computer database.6 In New York, the total cost of the program was about $40 million.7 Whether one is talking about D.C., Canada, or these other jurisdictions, think of all the other police activities that this money could have funded. How many more police officers could have been hired? How many more crimes could have been solved? A 2005 Maryland State Police report labeled the operation “ineffective and expensive.”8 These programs didn’t work.

The model number on the .38 dated it back to the mid-1940s, decades before gun registry laws were introduced in 1968. Even if the gun was

One of the cases we worked on concerned the shortage of organ donations, which results in eighteen deaths each day in the United States alone. I never forgot this case, and seventeen years later, Facebook worked with organ registries around the world to launch a tool to encourage donor registration.

Oh and I’ve been wanting a word with you too, Arthur,” said Mr. Crouch, his sharp eyes falling upon Mr. Weasley. “Ali Bashir’s on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets.” Mr. Weasley heaved a deep sigh. “I sent him an owl about that just last week. If I’ve told him once I’ve told him a hundred times: Carpets are defined as a Muggle Artifact by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?” “I doubt it,” said Mr. Crouch, accepting a cup from Percy. “He’s desperate to export here.

research validating Tom’s instincts. When researchers with the National Weight Control Registry examined the tactics used by successful dieters, they found that two characteristics, in particular, stood out. People who successfully maintain weight loss typically eat breakfast every morning. They also weigh themselves each day. Part of the reason why these habits matter is practical: Eating a healthy breakfast makes it less likely you will snack later in the day, according to studies. And frequently measuring your weight allows us—sometimes almost subconsciously—to see how changing our diets influences the pounds lost. But just as important is the mental boost that daily, incremental weight loss provides. The small win of dropping even half a pound can provide the dose of momentum we need to stick with a diet. We need to see small victories to believe a long battle will be won.

The last one is easy,” Win said. “Oh?” “He’s hiding.” “From?” “His siblings perhaps,” Win said. “As I said before, this inheritance battle is rather nasty.” “That might make sense—and I stress the word ‘might’—if he’d been around before. But how can there be no paperwork on him? What is he hiding from? And why on earth would he put his name in the bone marrow registry?” “Good questions,” Win said. “Very good,” Esperanza added. Myron reread the article and looked at his two friends. “Nice to have a consensus,” he said.

Beauty may fade, intellect dulls, but your spirit, that will live on forever,

The Fusion log This is a very useful tool for debugging failed attempts by the CLR to bind to an assembly at run time. Rather than trying to step through the application in the Visual Studio debugger, it is better to turn Fusion on and read the log file that results. To enable Fusion you must edit the Windows registry, as shown in the following code.HKLM\Software\Microsoft\Fusion\ForceLog 1 HKLM\Software\Microsoft\Fusion\LogPath C:\FusionLogs

Se registri i loro fischi, Shell, e li ascolti al rallentatore si possono sentire le cose più straordinarie. Quello che il nudo orecchio sente come una sola nota, in realtà è fatta spesso di due o tre note cantate insieme. Un uccello riesce a cantare tre note contemporaneamente!". "Vorrei saper parlare in questo modo. Vorrei poter dire dodici cose insieme. Vorrei poter dire tutto quello che c'è da dire in una sola parola. Odio tutte le cose che possono accadere tra l'inizio di una frase e la sua fine".

Mandati a zappare la terra invece di andare a scuola Calabria, registri esaminati dai carabinieri. Genitori denunciati Il paese Piazza Filottete nel centro storico di Petilia Policastro Gaetano Mazzuca | 563 parole La lotta alla criminalità in Calabria si fa anche spulciando tra i registri di classe. Fermare l’emorragia della dispersione scolastica, infatti, vuol dire non solo garantire il diritto all’istruzione, ma anche bloccare il reclutamento di nuove leve da parte dei clan locali. Così anche quest’anno, come accade già da qualche tempo, a fare gli scrutini negli istituti di Petilia Policastro, il paese di Lea Garofalo la testimone di giustizia trucidata dagli uomini della ’ndrangheta, non c’erano solo i professori, ma anche i carabinieri. Scrutini con i carabinieri La verifica condotta dai carabinieri, guidati dal capitano Claudio Martino, ha portato al deferimento in stato di libertà alla Procura della Repubblica di Crotone di 20 genitori, responsabili della mancata frequentazione delle scuole dell’obbligo da parte dei loro figli. I minori frequentavano, o meglio avrebbero dovuto frequentare, le scuole medie e il biennio delle superiori dei comuni di Petilia, Mesoraca e Cotronei. Le scuse dei genitori, come ad esempio improbabili ( e senza alcuna certificazione medica) malattie dei giovani, non sono state sufficienti per giustificare quello che per molti ragazzi è stato un vero e proprio abbandono scolastico, con la conseguente, naturale, perdita dell’anno. Giovani italiani Si tratta nella quasi totalità di famiglie italiane (solo una coppia è di nazionalità romena). In alcuni casi i minori sono figli di contadini che rinunciano ad andare a scuola per aiutare i genitori nei campi. Così invece di studiare storia o imparare l’aritmetica, si ritrovano a 11 anni a lavorare la terra in quest’angolo di Calabria. Una drammatica necessità, spiegano. Ma c’è di peggio. In alcune case semplicemente all’istruzione non viene dato alcun valore, anzi la scuola dell’obbligo è vista come un inutile impiccio. Il sentiero per questi ragazzini è già stato tracciato dalle loro famiglie: andranno a ingrossare le fila della criminalità locale. Le regole le impareranno per strada e non seduti davanti a un banco. Insomma, la lotta per la legalità inizia a questa età. Lo sanno bene i carabinieri di Petilia che da quattro anni controllano i registri delle scuole. Tutto è iniziato quando i militari hanno notato il figlio di un esponente della cosca petilina passare tutte le mattine nel bar del centro del paese. Sono andati a controllare nella scuola dove risultava iscritto, hanno dovuto battere la ritrosia e forse anche la paura dei vertici scolastici prima di mettere le mani sul registro e scoprire che quel ragazzino in classe non ci andava da tre mesi. Assenze ingiustificate Da quel momento l’attenzione delle forze dell’ordine è rimasta sempre alta ottenendo col tempo la massima collaborazione di presidi e docenti. Ora dopo due settimane di assenza senza certificazione medica parte la segnalazione e i risultati iniziano a vedersi. Il primo anno le denunce erano state 28, l’anno seguente 26, poi 22 e infine quest’anno 20. Ma non c’è solo la repressione. La caserma ha aperto le sue porte a 500 studenti, si è discusso di legalità, codice della strada, droga. Un momento di condivisione suggellato dal panino con nutella offerto ai ragazzi. Una “ricetta” semplice che sembra funzionare.

All'inizio dell'anno scolastico, mi capita di chiedere ai miei studenti di descrivermi una biblioteca. Non una biblioteca pubblica. No, il mobile, quello dove si mettono i libri. E loro mi descrivono un muro. Una scogliera di sapere, rigorosamente ordinata, assolutamente impenetrabile, una parete contro la quale non si può fare altro che rimbalzare. - E un lettore? Descrivetemi un lettore.- - Un vero lettore?- - Se volete, anche se non so cosa intendete per vero lettore.- I più - rispettosi- fra loro mi descrivono il Padreterno in persona, una specie di eremita antidiluviano, seduto da sempre su una montagna di libri dei quali avrebbe succhiato il senso fino a capire il perché di tutte le cose. Altri mi abbozzano il ritratto di un individuo affetto da autismo profondo, talmente assorbito nei libri da andare a sbattere contro tutte le porte della vita. Altri ancora mi fanno un ritratto in negativo, applicandosi a enumerare tutto ciò che un lettore non è: non è sportivo, non è vivace, non è simpatico, non gli piace né il mangiare, né il vestirsi, né le auto, né la tivù, né la musica, né gli amici... altri, infine, più - strateghi- erigono davanti al professore la statua accademica del lettore consapevole dei mezzi messi a disposizione dai libri per accrescere le sue conoscenze e affinare le sue facoltà intellettuali. Alcuni mescolano questi diversi registri, ma non ce n'è uno, uno solo che descriva se stesso, o un membro della sua famiglia o uno degli innumerevoli lettori che incrocia tutti i giorni sulla metropolitana.

RAYNAL, ABBE. Philosophical and Political History of the British Settlements and Trade in North America. Translated from the French. (Dependence of Great Britain upon colonies and Discussion of taxation. Colonies held as "Shackled in their Industry and Commerce," etc.) 2 Vols. Edinburgh: 1776. Record of Indentures, Individuals Bound Out as Apprentices, Servants, etc., and of German and Other Redemptioners in the ofice of the Mayor of the City of Philadelphia. October 3, 1771 to October 5, 1773. Before Mayors John Gibson and William Fisher. MS. Presented to American Phil. Society by Thos. P. Roberts, 1835. Reproduced in publications of Pennsylvania Germany Society, Vol. XVI, Lancaster, Pa., 1907. 321 closely printed pages averaging about twenty-two names to each double page or above 3,500 names recorded; both recently arrived and transfers recorded. Full description of terms, considerations, previous place of residence, etc. RECORD BEFORE THE MAYOR. (1745.) James Hamilton, Register. MS. contributed by George W. Neifle, Chester, Pa. Pa. Mag. Hist. and Biog., Vols. 30, 31 and 32. REDEMPTIONERS, REGISTRY OF THE "Book A" Germans, etc. (1785-1804); "Book C" (1817-1831). MSS. Library Historical Society of Pennsylvania. RICHARDS, ML H. "German Emigration from New York Province into Pennsylvania," Pennsylvania-German Society Proceedings, Vol. VII Lancaster: 1899.

The domain namespace is chaotic—every top-level domain and registry seems to have its own rules for things like minimum character lengths for domains, whether or not you can register at the top level (foo.nr vs. foo.com.nr for example)—and I didn’t want to go compile all these nuances by hand. So I used Mechanical Turk to gather things like the min-char lengths for each top-level domain, top-level registration possibilities, and all the second-level domains they may or may not use (Brazil is the craziest).

[1]  I do not want to sound as though I am in any way blaming Judy Nilan for what happened to her, but I want to say something here to any female reading this book. If you are a jogger/walker, I beg of you to take a different route each time you head out for a run, even if you change it up just a little bit. No matter where you live, no matter how safe you think you are, there could be a psychopath like Scott Deojay lurking in the shadows, watching you run/walk by his house or place of employment every single day, and as each day passes, he might become more and more obsessed with you to the point where he needs to act out on the twisted fantasies flowing through his mind. Don’t give him that satisfaction. Take a different route. And also, please check the sex offender’s registry in your area with a quick Google search and find out where the sex offenders in your neighborhood live. Believe me, no matter where you live, there are sex offenders near you. Again, I am in no way blaming Judy Nilan for what happened to her by saying this, but let us learn something from Judy’s brutal murder.

Geez,” I said, looking back at Selene. “Is being at the top of the social food chain like a universal birthright or something?” She grimaced. “I think there’s a national registry. It’s online at eat-crap-dot-com.” I forced another smile. “So I guess he was popular at your old school?” “Um, yeah, you could say that.

The pharmacies in turn will charge customers about $1 a gram, and the government will keep a registry of buyers, who can score as much as 40 grams a month.

course, I loved it”: Ibid. “It fairly well takes the position”: The New York Times, May 23, 1963. He came across the Atlantic: Author interview with Jacqueline Grobarek, October 2013. “if it had not been for”: Peter, Zyklus, unpaginated. “A mighty good American”: Newsletter, The Charles Hancock Reed Papers. “He lives through the Regiment”: Ibid. “He was a peaceful, kind person”: Author interview with Anne Stewart, October 2013. “It was 34 years”: Ibid. The international Lipizzaner registry: Current numbers of Lipizzaners comes from an email interview with Karin Mayrhofer, press spokeswoman for the Spanish Riding School, Vienna.