Rereading Messages Quotes

I read Ivan's messages over and over, thinking about what they meant. I felt ashamed, but why? Why was it more honorable to reread and interpret a novel like Lost Illusions than to reread and interpret some email from Ivan? Was it because Ivan wasn't as good a writer as Balzac? (But I thought Ivan was a good writer.) Was it because Balzac's novels had been read and analyzed by hundreds of professors, so that reading and interpreting Balzac was like participating in a conversation with all these professors, and was therefore a higher and more meaningful activity than reading an email only I could see? But the fact that the email had been written specifically to me, in response to things I had said, made it literally a conversation, in the way that Balzac's novels—written for a general audience, ultimately in order to turn a profit for the printing industry—were not; and so wasn't what I was doing in a way more authentic, and more human?

Emergency? Knighthawk sent. I’m just bored. I blinked, holding my phone and rereading that text. Bored? I sent. You’re literally spying on the entire world, Knighthawk. You can read anyone’s mail, listen to anyone’s phone calls. First, it’s not the whole world, he wrote. Only large chunks of North and Central America. Second, do you have any idea how mind-numbingly DULL most people are? I started a reply, but a flurry of messages came at me, interrupting what I was going to say. Oh! Knighthawk wrote. Look at this pretty flower! Hey. I want to know if you like me, but I can’t say that, so here’s an awkward flirtation instead. Where are you? I’m here. Where? Here. There? No, here. Oh. Look at my kid. Look at my dog. Look at me. Look at me holding my kid and dog. Hey, everyone. I took a huge koala this morning. Barf. The world is ruled by deific beings who can do stuff like melt buildings into puddles of acid, and all people can think of to do with their phones is take pictures of their pets and try to figure out how to get laid.

Xander: Remember when you promised you’d never leave me? My fingers tremble as I read and re-read the message. Before I can fathom a reply, another text comes. Xander: I free you of that promise.

Kids are really good at ignoring the heavy-handed message and getting with the fun parts. It's good they are, because adults have devoted a lot of effort writing them message thinly disguised as stories and clubbing children over the head with them.

In these journals I would frequently write messages to myself, a person whom I addressed as Big Me, or The Future Me. Rereading these entries as the addressee, I try not to be insulted, since my former self admonishes me frequently. "I hope you are not a failure," he says. "I hope you are happy," he says.

Every story, the moment it’s written down, will be reread,” she said. “And every rereading will be a reinterpretation. In that sense, there is not an original story and there is not an original message.

I often reread passages of "Lolita" for its exquisite language. To me, "Lolita" has no message, no purpose, other than to exist as a marvel of literary creation. It has wit, intelligence and style. It pointedly makes no attempt to serve a higher moral purpose, and previous attempts by critics to find one have proven ludicrous. The annotated edition is accompanied by a brilliant afterword by Nabokov that is a lucid reminder of the pure joy of writing, its interplay with life.

I turned my copy over to reread the back cover: always a creepy experience once you had finished a book, like getting a message from a dead person. “Nadja, originally published in France in 1928, is the first and perhaps best Surrealist romance ever written,” it said.

I read a lot of older children's books when I was a kid, and you wouldn't believe how many sugar-coated tracts I sucked the sugar off and cheerfully ran off, spitting out the message undigested. (Despite going to church several times every Sunday for my who childhood, I never figured out Aslan was Jesus until told later.)

There was something in Lima that was wrappd up in yards of violet satin from which protruded a great dropsical head and two fat pearly hands; and that was its archbishop. Between the rolls of flesh that surrounded them looked out two black eyes speaking discomfort, kindliness, and wit. A curious and eager soul was imprisoned in all this lard, but by dint of never refusing himself a pheasant or a goose or his daily procession of Roman wines, he was his own bitter jailer. He loved his cathedral; he loved his duties; he was very devout. Some days he regarded his bulk ruefully; but the distress of remorse was less poignant than the distress of fasting, and he was presently found deliberating over the secret messages that a certain roast sends to the certain salad that will follow it. And to punish himself he led an exemplary life in every other respect. He had read all the literature of antiquity and forgotten all about it except a general aroma of charm and disillusion. He had been learned in the Fathers and the Councils and forgotten all about them save a floating impression of dissensions that had no application to Peru. He had read all the libertine masterpieces of Italy and France and reread them annually;

We tend to believe that the most important thing about an email is its content, but that’s not exactly right. The most important aspect of an email, from a time management perspective, is how urgently it needs a reply. Because we forget when the sender needs a reply, we waste time rereading the message. The solution to this mania is simple: only touch each email twice. The first time we open an email, before closing it, answer this question: When does this email require a response? Tagging each email as either “Today” or “This Week” attaches the most important information to each new message, preparing it for the second (and last) time we open it. Of course, for super-urgent, email-me-right-now-type messages, go ahead and respond. Messages that don’t need a response at all should be deleted or archived immediately.

Before bed each night, I reread my notes and studied the Bible, savoring its rich lessons. Right there in bold print, for anyone to read, was the message of love. God treasured all his children equally, regardless of gender. For the first time in my life, I was truly content simply being a person, not a wife, not a mother, not a woman. A person.

I picked up my phone from my nightstand, skin prickling all over with hurt, eyes stinging a little too brightly at the words he’d written down on the paper…until I saw the text message waiting for my on the screen. At some point, Sully had changed his name in my contacts from ‘Hottest Guy In The World’ to ‘Lamest Guy In The World’. The lone message he’d sent to me contained few words, but they hit hard. Sully: Don’t do it, Lang. Don’t go. I sat up in bed, staring at the note, re-reading it over and over again, knowing now what he was really telling me. He did love. He would miss me. He didn’t want me to go.

I just blew my art teacher and he apsolutely loved it! He gave me extra credit and everything:) Glennis:  That’s nice sweetie :) I remember having to do that when I was in college too. You make me proud! Xx Arnulfo:  Um… I just re-read my text. I meant drew but my phone changed it. What. The Hell?!? Glennis:  Oh uh… That’s what I thought you meant. Don’t tell your dad about this, okay? Xx

Despite the march of digital technologies, it is hard to believe that paper will completely disappear as a means of communication. For some messages we trust it above all other media. There is nothing that quite grips the stomach while simultaneously making your heart skip than a letter from your beloved arriving by post. Phone calls are fine and intimate, text messages and e-mails are instantaneous and gratifying, but to hold in your hands the very material that your beloved touched and to breathe in their sweetness from the paper is truly the stuff of love. It is a communication of more than words. There is a permanence, a physical solidity to soothe those of an insecure nature. It can be read and reread over and over again. It physically takes up space in your life. The paper itself becomes a simulacrum of the loved one’s skin, it smells of their scent, and their writing is as much an expression of their unique nature as a fingerprint. A love letter is not faked, and is not cut and pasted. What is it about paper that allows words to be expressed that might otherwise be kept secret? They are written in a private moment, and as such, paper lends itself to sensual love—the act of writing being one fundamentally of touch, of flow, of flourish, of sweet asides and little sketches, an individuality that is free from the mechanics of the keyboard. The ink becomes a kind of blood that demands honesty and expression, it pours on to the page, allowing thoughts to flow. Letters make splitting up harder too, since like photographs they echo forever on the page. For one whose heart is broken this is a cruelty, and for those who have moved on it is a stinging rebuke of infidelity or, at the very least, a thorn of inconstancy in the side of their constructed personality. Paper, though, as a carbon-based material, has a bright solution for those wanting to be released from such torture: a match.

Mead’s work is ground zero for gender socialization theory because she demonstrated how variable sex roles can be. It has inspired claims that these roles are mostly or entirely cultural. After rereading Male and Female, however, I am no longer convinced that this was Mead’s main message. She discusses several worldwide truths about being male or female. For example, she claims that girls are always kept closer to home and permanently clothed, whereas boys of the same age may go about naked and are given freedom to roam. A boy also learns that he’ll have a long way to go before he will ever be “the man who can win and keep a woman in a world filled with other men.” Mead stresses the universality of male competition, stating that “in every known human society, the male’s need for achievement can be recognized.” Men, to feel fulfilled and successful, need to excel at something—to be better at it than other men and better than women.

I love to read. However, there have been times when certain books did not resonate with me because the timing was off kilter. Their lessons fell flat because their messages were not pertinent, relevant, or interesting to me at the time. Then, when I would re-read the same book years later, it could rock my world and change my life for the better. The message was more in alignment with where I was at that moment in time. With most anything, just because your timing may not be good now, does not mean it won’t be better later.

Bronnie Ware, an Australian palliative care nurse, became famous for her arresting writings and book, The Top Five Regrets of the Dying, about her patients in the final twelve weeks of life. Though her list has been widely published, it can’t be shared often enough. If not for the heaviness of its message, it should be posted on every fridge and bathroom mirror for every person on this earth to reread daily. The top five regrets of dying people were: I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me. I wish I hadn’t worked so hard. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

in his stocking feet so as not to awaken Emilee or the children, Hans padded into the living room, walked past the Christmas tree, and moved into the small vestibule that served as his home office. Only then did he turn on a small desk lamp. He opened the drawer of his desk and withdrew the leatherbound book he had placed there earlier that day. He opened it to the first page and looked at the neatly lettered inscription: To My Beloved Hans Merry Christmas, 1932 From Emilee, Alisa, Jolanda, Hans Otto, Enrika, & Nikolaus Your Adoring Family Hans smiled and reread the handwritten message on the inside cover. Hans: A brief note of explanation. I can hear you saying to yourself as you read this: “Really? A journal? My

I read and reread his message, admitting to myself I found him brave for being the bigger man. He could’ve easily blocked me or simply left things there. I would have.

The same thing happens with emails. Most people open their inbox and see ten new unread messages. Almost everyone will click each message open, read it, and then move on to the next message. If an email requires some action, they’ll get back to it later—in which case they’ll have to re-read the message! Remember, touching something once doesn’t mean you have to-do everything yourself. Delegating an item is almost always the most time efficient thing to-do, so if you touch it once and delegate to somebody, do it. Also, not every task should be touched immediately. A large project or something that is going to run into a previously scheduled time block should be scheduled for later. Most people will have a rule of thumb about when to action something immediately. Most people I know will take immediate action on something if it takes less than five or ten minutes.

It was a casual warning about using sketchy third-party wallets in some crypto Discord group. I blew it off, figuring I had done my research, that I was being cautious enough. A week later, that warning haunted me as I woke up to a disastrous reality: I had lost $275,000. I had been using a wallet-something that seemed so legitimate-but which, actually, was a very ingenious scam. Suddenly, everything was going great, and then my balance disappeared into nowhere. I was in a state of utter panic. I had always been very cautious about security; yet, I managed to let my guard down. I felt stupid, helpless, and betrayed. Frantic, I scrolled through the same Discord group in which the warning first appeared; my hands shaking while rereading old messages, hoping for some miracle solution. That's when I saw it-multiple people tagging CRANIX ETHICAL SOLUTIONS HAVEN and saying that they were the ones that helped them recover their stolen funds. Desperate, I reached out. I sent in a message detailing everything that happened. Much to my relief, CRANIX ETHICAL SOLUTIONS HAVEN  got in almost immediately, and from that on, I had this feeling like I was no longer alone with it. They explained the process to me and assured me of how they would handle the matter, and with that, it was all working. I can feel the burden coming off me. It wasn't just their expertise that impressed me, but they were indeed so patient with my endless questions and very transparent about the whole recovery process. They even took the pain to explain how the scam happened and what I could do to prevent it from happening again. More than the recovery, they gave me a lesson in security that I'll never forget. Days went by, and I was on edge, but CRANIX ETHICAL SOLUTIONS HAVEN kept on top of all that was happening. I never felt abandoned or in the dark about what was happening. Then, the moment of truth: "We've recovered your funds." I could not believe my ears. My $275,000 was back into my wallet. It was a very important lesson learned in retrospect, one that taught me much more than about wallets and scams: to trust the right people. Discord saved my money and my sanity, and CRANIX ETHICAL SOLUTIONS HAVEN was the team that made it all possible. Never again will I ignore community warnings. I'm grateful, wiser, and now an advocate for securing your crypto properly. EMAIL: cranixethicalsolutionshaven (@) post (.) com WHATSAPP: +4.4.7.4.6.0.6.2.2.7.3.0 TELEGRAM: @ Cranixethicalsolutionshaven WEBSIITE: https:// cranixethicalsolutionshaven . info

A crypto influencer on TikTok posted about his $100,000 recovery with Rapid Digital Recovery. I was hyped along with him and decided to follow it, just in case. At that time, I wasn't worried, as I did have everything: two-factor authentication, backups on cold storage, and strong passwords. I thought I was untouchable. Wrong. Months later, I woke up to a nightmare: my wallet, holding $320,000, was completely drained. I checked my email-nothing. I checked my security logs-no alerts. How did this happen? I scrambled through every account, searching for clues. That's when I saw it—a phishing attack. I had clicked on a link for a fake update weeks prior, and the hackers had been patiently waiting for their moment. Panic set in. I scoured the internet for solutions, but every forum post, every so-called "expert" I contacted-all were saying the same thing: Once it's gone, it's gone. But then I remembered that TikTok post. I DMed the influencer, desperate for an honest answer: Is Rapid Digital Recovery actually legit? The response came immediately. "100%. They saved me. Reach out now." Website: https:// rapid digital recovery. org That was all I needed. I contacted Rapid Digital Recovery, hoping for a miracle. From the very first message, they were professional, calm, and insanely knowledgeable. They asked the right questions, identified how my funds had been stolen, and immediately set their forensic recovery tools in motion. While I was drowning in anxiety, they worked methodically, patiently, and relentlessly. Whatsapp: +1 4.14 8.0 71.4 8.5 Hours felt like days, then the message came: "We've recovered your funds." I reread it a total of three times. Every last dollar was back. I had gone from devastation to absolute disbelief and relief. Not only did they recover my money, but they also educated me on what had gone wrong. They walked me through better security practices, helped me secure my wallets properly, and ensured that I'd never fall for the same trick again. That TikTok post? It saved me. And now, I'm the one telling everyone I know: Follow Rapid Digital Recovery before you ever need them. Email: rapiddigitalrecovery (@) execs. com