Resort To Name Calling Quotes

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Your body does not eliminate poisons by knowing their names. To try to control fear or depression or boredom by calling them names is to resort to superstition of trust in curses and invocations. It is so easy to see why this does not work. Obviously, we try to know, name, and define fear in order to make it “objective,” that is, separate from “I.
Alan W. Watts (The Wisdom of Insecurity: A Message for an Age of Anxiety)
There is a difference between criticizing people and criticizing a people's uninformed ideals. That is, unless one defines himself or others by their ideals, then he is offended, and usually offended secretly. Because oddly enough, this person is the same person quickest to resort to dismissive name-calling, such as 'bigot' or 'zealot'. And oddly enough, he is always the one, the 'open-minded' one, who adamantly protests for, not only himself, but others not to listen to any type of scholarly theological truth inherently for the sake of his own personal, moral beliefs.
Criss Jami (Killosophy)
Britt Said “I’m glad.” Merlin nodded “If you’re so glad then you should work to win over more of your men.” “Yes, Merlin.” “Don’t you ‘yes, Merlin’ me!” “Of course, Merlin.” “That’s hardly any better.” “You don’t think I know that?” “Harridan.” “I find it amusing that you resort to name calling when you can’t think of anything better to say.” “Only to those who deserve it.” “Yes, Merlin.
K.M. Shea (Enchanted (King Arthur and Her Knights, #2))
Tristan’s Mom: What are these? Tristan: Your granddaughters. Tristan’s Dad: Don’t worry honey, you don’t look old enough to be a mother let alone a grandmother. Tristan’s Mom: Again with the flattery, thank you dear. Where did they come from? Tristan: Camie gave birth last night. Jeff: I didn’t know she was pregnant. Tristan: She wasn’t. It was a miracle. Tristan’s Mom: Do they have names? Tristan: Phineas and Ferb. Jeff: From the cartoon? Tristan’s Dad: That figures, he named the dog Scooby. Tristan’s Mom: They sound like boy names. Tristan: Mom! Shhh, you’ll give them a complex. Jeff: If that Ferb one climbs my legs again I’m drop kicking it. Tristan: That’s child abuse and I’ll press charges. Besides, they just miss their mom. Jeff: I’m calling CPS (cat protective services)… Tristan: What for? Jeff: Because you’re making your kids live in a broken home unnecessarily. Tristan: I’m not talking to you anymore. Jeff: Fine, as long as you to talk to her. Tristan: Back off. Jeff: Nope, not gonna do it. Tristan: I’m warning you man. Jeff: You miss her too. Tristan: Yeah, so? Jeff: So do something about it. Tristan: Happy? Last night was miserable and I think it’s too late. Jeff: You still have a 12 year old ace in the hole. Tristan: Saving it as a last resort. Tristan’s Dad: Honey, do you have a clue as to what they’re talking about? Tristan’s Mom: No and I don’t want one. Jeff: I’m just helping my nieces get their parents back together. Dude, it’s time. Make the call. Tristan: Alright, I did it. But I get the feeling I’m about to do business with the mob. I hope I don’t wake up with the head of my horse in bed with me tonight. Jeff: Well, a good father will do anything he can to protect his family, even if that means he runs the risk of sleeping with the fishes. Tristan: Okay girls, your aunt helped Daddy come up with a plan and if it works you should get to see Mommy today. Cross your paws, or claws, or whatever…just cross something for luck.
Jenn Cooksey (Shark Bait (Grab Your Pole, #1))
the root of the opposition to liberalism cannot be reached by resort to the method of reason. This opposition does not stem from reason, but from a pathological mental attitude, from resentment and from a neurasthenic condition that one might call a Fourier complex, after the French socialist of that name
Ludwig von Mises (The Anti-capitalistic Mentality)
Britt Said “I’m glad.” Merlin nodded “If you’re so glad then you should work to win over more of your men.” “Yes, Merlin.” “Don’t you ‘yes, Merlin’ me!” “Of course, Merlin.” “That’s hardly any better.” “You don’t think I know that?” “Harridan.” “I find it amusing that you resort to name calling when you can’t think of anything better to say.” “Only to those who deserve it.” “Yes, Merlin.
K.M. Shea (Enchanted (King Arthur and Her Knights, #2))
Father Travis leaned back. I glanced up at him. He was watching us from under his brow, his hands folded in his lap. His eyes had taken on that cyborg gleam. His cheekbones looked like they were going to break right through his skin. Not only did he own a copy of Alien, not only did he have an amazing and terrible wound, but he had called us humiliating names without actually resorting to the usual swear words. Besides that there was the deft speed with which he’d caught Angus, the free weights beside the television, the fancy Michelob. It was almost enough to make a boy want to be a Catholic.
Louise Erdrich (The Round House)
The owner of The Mandrake Hotel and Resort is a man called Rot, a billionaire like Bill Gates, only nerdier. 
 Rot Kugelschreiber isn’t the name he was born with. No, the name on his birth certificate is Dark Jar Tin Zoo. He chose that penname because in German it means Red Pen—and a Red Pen is mightier than a Red Sword, which in turn is mightier than a Rothschild. 
 Most of the time he goes by Rot, but occasionally he reverts back to Dark Jar Tin Zoo.
Jarod Kintz (The Mandrake Hotel and Resort to violence if necessary)
From around the corner's edge a grotesque light was trickling out, the first intimations of an ominous sunrise over a dark horizon. I dimly recognized this colored light, though not from my waking memory. It grew more intense, now pouring out in weird streams from beyond the solid margin of the building. And the more intense it grew, the more clearly I could hear the screaming voice that had called out to me in a dream. I shouted his name, but the swelling colored brightness was a field of fear which kept me from making any move toward it. It was no amalgam of colors comparable to anything in mortal experience. It was as if all natural colors had been mutated into a painfully lush iridescence by some prism fantastically corrupted in its form; it was a rainbow staining the sky after a poison deluge; it was an aurora painting the darkness with a blaze of insanity, a blaze that did not burn vigorously but shimmered with an insect-jeweled frailness. And, in actuality, it was nothing like these color-filled effusions, which are merely a feeble means of partially fixing a reality uncommunicable to those not initiated to it, a necessary resorting to the makeshift gibberish of the mystic isolated by his experience and left without a language to describe it. ("The Dreaming In Nortown")
Thomas Ligotti (The Nightmare Factory)
Even Diotima and Amheim were shy of using it without a modifier, for it is still possible to speak of having a great, noble, craven, daring, or debased soul, but to come right out with "my soul" is something one simply cannot bring oneself to do. It is distinctly an older person's word, and this can only be understood by assuming that in the course of life people become more and more aware of something for which they urgently need a name they cannot find until they finally resort, reluctantly, to the name they had originally despised. How to describe it, then? Whether one is at rest or in motion, what matters is not what lies ahead, what one sees, hears, wants, takes, masters. It forms a horizon, a semicircle before one, but the ends of this semicircle are joined by a string, and the plane of this string goes right through·the middle of the world. In front, the face and hands look out of it; sensations and strivings run ahead of it, and no one doubts that whatever one does·is always reasonable, or at least passionate. In other words, outer circumstances call for us to act in a way everyone can understand; and if, in the toils of passion, we do something incomprehensible, that too is, in its own way, understandable.
Robert Musil (The Man Without Qualities: Volume I)
She used to like talking to people, especially ones who disagreed with her. They provided mental stimulation and allowed her to practice emotional control in her arguments, she liked to let others be the first to resort to name-calling. When someone called her a moron, Kate took it as a signal of victory. However lately she noticed she had been isolating herself more, allowing her thoughts to carry her off to some distant point. It was as though she were stuck, unable to move or grow in an internal conflict that left her feeling somewhat one-dimensional, obsessive and compelled to move toward something unknown that was gnawing at her. While Kate recognized her new state of mind might not be a good thing, she felt helpless to pull herself out of it. As
Holly A. Bell (Trading Salvos (Kate Adams #1))
The name Mary Jo Quinn was written neatly in faded blue marker on the front of the scrapbook, its gray edges frayed with age and wear, as though it had been handled often. Such a memento was a strange thing to find in a used bookstore, especially when one considered its contents. I’d discovered the handmade tome buried on the bottom shelf on the back wall of a little musty-smelling shop in the tiny resort town of Copper Harbor. This picturesque community is the gateway to Isle Royale National Park, an island in the western quarter of Lake Superior that beckoned to hikers, kayakers and canoers. Copper Harbor is the northern-most bastion of civilization in Michigan on a crooked finger of land called the Keweenaw Peninsula. Its remote, pristine shoreline provided an excellent respite from a hellacious year for my best friend from high school and me on a late September weekend.
Nancy Barr (Page One: Vanished)
The first thing he did was to attempt to analyse a mental device he was in the habit of resorting to - a device that supplied him with the secret substratum of his whole life. This was a certain trick he had of doing what he called 'sinking into his soul’. This trick had been a furtive custom with him from very early days. In his childhood his mother had often rallied him about it in her light-hearted way, and had applied to these trances, or these fits of absent-mindedness, an amusing but rather indecent nursery name. His father, on the other hand, had encouraged him in these moods, taking them very gravely, and treating him, when under their spell, as if he were a sort of infant magician. It was, however, when staying in his grandmother's house at Weymouth that the word had come to him which he now always used in his own mind to describe these obsessions. It was the word ‘mythology’ ; and he used it entirely in a private sense of his own.
John Cowper Powys (Wolf Solent)
How did the name misfit even come about?" Sam asked. "It's so... dumb." Willo laughed. "Well, it's really not," she said. "We used to call them all sorts of slang terms: kooks, greasers, killjoys, chumps, and we had to keep changing the name as times changed. We used nerds for a long time, and then we started calling them dweebs." Willo hesitated. "And then a group of kids wasn't so nice to your mom." "I had braces," Deana said. "I had pimples. I had a perm. You do the math." She smiled briefly, but Sam could tell the pain was still there. Deana continued: "And I worked here most of the time so I really didn't get a chance to do a lot with friends after school. It was hard." This time, Willo reached out to rub her daughter's leg. "Your mom was pretty down one Christmas," she said. "All of the kids were going on a ski trip to a resort in Boyne City, but she had to stay here and work during the holiday rush. She was moping around one night, lying on the couch and watching TV..." "... stuffing holiday cookies in my mouth," Deana added. "... and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer came on. She was about to change the channel, but I made her sit back down and watch it with me. Remember the part about the Island of Misfit Toys?" Sam nodded. Willo continued. "All of those toys that were tossed away and didn't have a home because they were different: the Charlie-in-the-Box, the spotted elephant, the train with square wheels, the cowboy who rides an ostrich..." "... the swimming bird," Sam added with a laugh. "And I told your mom that all of those toys were magical and perfect because they were different," Willo said. "What made them different is what made them unique." Sam looked at her mom, who gave her a timid smile. "I walked in early the next morning to open the pie pantry, and your mom was already in there making donuts," Willo said. "She had a big plate of donuts that didn't turn out perfectly and she looked up at me and said, very quietly, 'I want to start calling them misfits.' When I asked her why, she said, 'They're as good as all the others, even if they look a bit different.' We haven't changed the name since.
Viola Shipman (The Recipe Box)
Nor are languages any respecters of frontiers. If you drew a map of Europe based on languages it would bear scant resemblance to a conventional map. Switzerland would disappear, becoming part of the surrounding dominions of French, Italian, and German but for a few tiny pockets for Romansh (or Rumantsch or Rhaeto-Romanic as it is variously called), which is spoken as a native language by about half the people in the Graubünden district (or Grisons district—almost everything has two names in Switzerland) at the country’s eastern edge. This steep and beautiful area, which takes in the ski resorts of St. Moritz, Davos, and Klosters, was once effectively isolated from the rest of the world by its harsh winters and forbidding geography. Indeed, the isolation was such that even people in neighboring valleys began to speak different versions of the language, so that Romansh is not so much one language as five fragmented and not always mutually intelligible dialects. A person from the valley around Sutselva will say, “Vagned nà qua” for “Come here,” while in the next valley he will say, “Vegni neu cheu” [cited in The Economist, February 27, 1988]. In other places people will speak the language in the same way but spell it differently depending on whether they are Catholic or Protestant.
Bill Bryson (The Mother Tongue: English and How it Got that Way)
With the lessons learned from the Mike SSN disaster in the North Sea off Norway, the Typhoon’s captain decided to remain where he was to await rescue. Mack knew the Russian captain had lost his cool; he was now in the South China Sea, where no Russian ships could come to his rescue. What’s more, Cheyenne had finally picked up the last Akula, whose captain had elected to pull off to be able to fight another day and which had managed to distance itself from the fray. Cheyenne was there as the Typhoon reached the surface. The Russian submarine had been severely damaged, but Mack ordered four more torpedoes into the defenseless Typhoon. There was seldom mercy in wartime, and Cheyenne’s and Mack’s orders were clear. If he had allowed the Typhoon to survive, its crew would have cut the missile hatches open with blow torches and completed their launch against Taiwan. The result of the additional four torpedoes exploding beneath the Typhoon caused major seawater system flooding. The ensuing scene was similar to the devastation experienced by the Yankee class SSBN southeast of the Bermudas years before. Only this time there was no capability to protect and remove the crew. Life rafts were put over the side, only to be attacked by the South China Sea shark population, so the crew watched helplessly from the huge, flat missile-tube deck. The oversized submarine started settling slowly deeper, the water level rising to within meters of the missile- tube deck, with the crew topside. The captain—the admiral-to-be-had already sent a message to his North Fleet Headquarters concerning the impending demise of his capital ship and the lack of help from his Akula escorts by name, two of which had been sunk. He had not been given any means to communicate with the Chinese, so he resorted to calling home. After that he went topside to be with his men, sat down, and held hands in a circle as their submarine slid beneath the surface of the sea, sailors to the end, for eternity.
Tom Clancy (SSN: A Strategy Guide to Submarine Warfare)
The preconventional level of moral reasoning, which develops during our first nine years of life, considers rules as fixed and absolute. In the first of its two stages (the stage of obedience and punishment), we determine whether actions are right or wrong by whether or not they lead to a punishment. In the second stage (the stage of individualism and exchange), right and wrong are determined by what brings rewards. The desires and needs of others are important, but only in a reciprocal sense—“You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.” Morality at this level is governed by consequence.   The second level of moral reasoning starts in adolescence, and continues into early adulthood. It sees us starting to consider the intention behind behavior, rather than just the consequences. Its first stage, often called the “good boy—nice girl” stage, is when we begin classifying moral behavior as to whether it will help or please. Being seen as good becomes the goal. In the second stage (the law and order stage), we start to equate “being good” with respecting authority and obeying the law, believing that this protects and sustains society.   The third level of moral development is when we move beyond simple conformity, but Kohlberg suggested that only around 10–15 percent of us ever reach this level. In its first stage (the social contract and individual rights stage), we still respect authority, but there is a growing recognition that individual rights can supersede laws that are destructive or restrictive. We come to realize that human life is more sacred than just following rules. The sixth and final stage (the stage of universal ethical principles) is when our own conscience becomes the ultimate judge, and we commit ourselves to equal rights and respect for all. We may even resort to civil disobedience in the name of universal principles, such as justice.   Kohlberg’s six-stage theory was considered radical, because it stated that morality is not imposed on children (as psychoanalysts said), nor is it about avoiding bad feelings (as the behaviorists had thought). Kohlberg believed children developed a moral code and awareness of respect, empathy, and love through interaction with others.
Nigel Benson (The Psychology Book: Big Ideas Simply Explained)
In their eagerness to eliminate from history any reference to individuais and individual events, collectivist authors resorted to a chimerical construction, the group mind or social mind. At the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth centuries German philologists began to study German medieval poetry, which had long since fallen into oblivion. Most of the epics they edited from old manuscripts were imitations of French works. The names of their authors—most of them knightly warriors in the service of dukes or counts—were known. These epics were not much to boast of. But there were two epics of a quite different character, genuinely original works of high literary value, far surpassing the conventional products of the courtiers: the Nibelungenlied and the Gudrun. The former is one of the great books of world literature and undoubtedly the outstanding poem Germany produced before the days of Goethe and Schiller. The names of the authors of these masterpieces were not handed down to posterity. Perhaps the poets belonged to the class of professional entertainers (Spielleute), who not only were snubbed by the nobility but had to endure mortifying legal disabilities. Perhaps they were heretical or Jewish, and the clergy was eager to make people forget them. At any rate the philologists called these two works "people's epics" (Volksepen). This term suggested to naive minds the idea that they were written not by individual authors but by the "people." The same mythical authorship was attributed to popular songs (Volkslieder) whose authors were unknown. Again in Germany, in the years following the Napoleonic wars, the problem of comprehensive legislative codification was brought up for discussion. In this controversy the historical school of jurisprudence, led by Savigny, denied the competence of any age and any persons to write legislation. Like the Volksepen and the Volkslieder, a nation s laws, they declared, are a spontaneous emanation of the Volksgeist, the nations spirit and peculiar character. Genuine laws are not arbitrarily written by legislators; they spring up and thrive organically from the Volksgeist. This Volksgeist doctrine was devised in Germany as a conscious reaction against the ideas of natural law and the "unGerman" spirit of the French Revolution. But it was further developed and elevated to the dignity of a comprehensive social doctrine by the French positivists, many of whom not only were committed to the principies of the most radical among the revolutionary leaders but aimed at completing the "unfinished revolution" by a violent overthrow of the capitalistic mode of production. Émile Durkheim and his school deal with the group mind as if it were a real phenomenon, a distinct agency, thinking and acting. As they see it, not individuais but the group is the subject of history. As a corrective of these fancies the truism must be stressed that only individuais think and act. In dealing with the thoughts and actions of individuais the historian establishes the fact that some individuais influence one another in their thinking and acting more strongly than they influence and are influenced by other individuais. He observes that cooperation and division of labor exist among some, while existing to a lesser extent or not at ali among others. He employs the term "group" to signify an aggregation of individuais who cooperate together more closely.
Ludwig von Mises (Theory and History: An Interpretation of Social and Economic Evolution)
Ruth: Grounding Bondi's flights of fancy By Daniel Ruth, Times Columnist | 722 words Could this be the final call for Pam Bondi's reign as the attorney general of feedbags? For the past four years, Bondi has used her office as if it were a subsidiary of Expedia, jetting off hither and yon to attend fancy-pants soirees at resorts and hotels that were organized by the Republican Attorneys General Association. She was so good at navigating the buffet line, the group named her its president (or is it Dom Perignon-in-chief?) for 2015.
Anonymous
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Double prehistory of good and evil. The concept of good and evil has a double prehistory: namely, first of all, in the soul of the ruling clans and castes. The man who has the power to requite goodness with goodness, evil with evil, and really does practice requital by being grateful and vengeful, is called "good." The man who is unpowerful and cannot requite is taken for bad. As a good man, one belongs to the "good," a community that has a communal feeling, because all the individuals are entwined together by their feeling for requital. As a bad man, one belongs to the "bad," to a mass of abject, powerless men who have no communal feeling. The good men are a caste; the bad men are a multitude, like particles of dust. Good and bad are for a time equivalent to noble and base, master and slave. Conversely, one does not regard the enemy as evil: he can requite. In Homer, both the Trojan and the Greek are good. Not the man who inflicts harm on us, but the man who is contemptible, is bad. In the community of the good, goodness is hereditary; it is impossible for a bad man to grow out of such good soil. Should one of the good men nevertheless do something unworthy of good men, one resorts to excuses; one blames God, for example, saying that he struck the good man with blindness and madness. Then, in the souls of oppressed, powerless men, every other man is taken for hostile, inconsiderate, exploitative, cruel, sly, whether he be noble or base. Evil is their epithet for man, indeed for every possible living being, even, for example, for a god; "human," "divine" mean the same as "devilish," "evil." Signs of goodness, helpfulness, pity are taken anxiously for malice, the prelude to a terrible outcome, bewilderment, and deception, in short, for refined evil. With such a state of mind in the individual, a community can scarcely come about at all--or at most in the crudest form; so that wherever this concept of good and evil predominates, the downfall of individuals, their clans and races, is near at hand. Our present morality has grown up on the ground of the ruling clans and castes.
Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human
We’ve resorted to formalities suddenly? Am I to assume we haven’t been intimate enough for you to call me by my first name?” Despite his casual tone, his eyes suggested so much more. “Perhaps I should rectify that.
Melissa Lurquette (A Beautiful Bounty (The Historical Romance Davenport Trilogy, #1))
We’ve resorted to formalities suddenly? Am I to assume we haven’t been intimate enough for you to call me by my first name?” Despite his casual tone, his eyes suggested so much more. “Perhaps I should rectify that.
Melissa Lurquette (A Beautiful Bounty (The Historical Romance Davenport Trilogy, #1))
Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter! Isaiah 5:20 Isn’t it interesting that people in our culture can also serve Satan without realizing it? Look at the social causes that people stand up for and support. For instance, they often say that a woman has a right to choose. Always ask them, “To choose what?” To choose to murder a baby puts them on the devil’s team, not on God’s team. Further, if you or someone else opposes the “socially accepted” sins of our culture, then you or they might be called a racist, bigot, homophobe, Islamophobe, Nazi, or intolerant. When others resort to name-calling, it typically means they don’t have a valid argument. As Christians, we have dealings with all kinds of people. We want everyone to be saved. We don’t categorize others or refuse to hang out with certain groups. We never want to put ourselves in a high and mighty class because of the position we hold in life, our money, our smarts, or our athletic abilities. Be careful. God made everyone. All lives matter to God. He wants all of them to be reached for Jesus Christ!
Mark Cahill (Ten Questions from the King)
Not at all perturbed by the surprise arrival and very official-looking demeanor, and yet respectful of it all the same--he’d have done as much or more if some bloke was sniffing after his sister--he doffed his hat and stuck out his hand. “You must be Logan. Or should I call you Chief McCrae?” Logan McCrae hesitated a short moment, then took Cooper’s hand in a quick, firm shake. Cooper was also glad to see McCrae didn’t feel the need to resort to some kind of macho game of whose handshake is the firmest to prove who would control their little meeting. But then, he did have a gun strapped to his hip, Cooper noted, so possibly that was simply unnecessary. “Cooper Jax,” McCrae said, sidestepping his name query for now anyway. “I thought maybe we could take a quick walk if you have a few moments?” “Off a short pier?” Cooper replied, smile unwavering as he gestured for McCrae to lead the way through the courtyard. The bigger man’s dark gaze remained zeroed in, but the tight line of his square jaw relaxed, as did his shoulders. “That depends. We do have one or two.” Cooper knew a lot more about the oldest McCrae sib than he assumed McCrae knew about him, but from all that Kerry had said about her only brother, Cooper was predisposed to like the bloke. The hint of humor underlying McCrae’s words told him to trust that instinct. “I’ll do my best to keep both feet on the ground then.” “Good start,” McCrae replied, then headed through the courtyard.
Donna Kauffman (Starfish Moon (Brides of Blueberry Cove, #3))
To gain any intuitive understanding of the breakdown of this ultimate symmetry through vacuum effects at the critical 10^-44 seconds after the Big Bang, we will have to resort to examples in the space of our experience. Starting at that critical instant, gravity assumes a part of its own, distinct from the other three forces; these remain unified up to another branching point at 10^-36 seconds after the Big Bang. Up to it, they are jointly described by what the physicist calls a GUT, a grand unified theory. This theory joins the conjoined electroweak force and the strong force by means of an interaction we know very little of, and which we will call the GUT force. At 10^-36 seconds after the Big Bang, the strong force split off from the unified weak and electromagnetic forces. The range of the GUT force then is miniscule, close to zero, while that of the other forces remains infinite. The theory that describes the development of our universe from the second branch point at 10^-36 seconds to a third one at about 10^-10 seconds after the Big Bang, we know quite well, and it has acquired the familiar name of the standard model of particle interactions. To be more precise, we should specify "of the strong and electroweak interactions." The breaking of GUT symmetry is accompanied by an effect of enormous importance for the development of our universe. This effect, called inflation, describes the unimaginably rapid growth of the universe by a factor of 10^50 in the miniscule time span of 10^-33 seconds. We will discuss this inflation together with the breaking of GUT symmetry. The overall symmetry breaking across the three branch points we mentioned was accomplished by the time our universe had reached the mature age of 10^-10 seconds; by this time, the forces were much as we know them today, with their diverging strengths and ranges. Of the present forces, only gravity, electromagnetism, and the color force retain infinite range, just like the unified force prior to the first branch point. It is the Higgs field that must be held responsible for the fact that the weak force and the GUT force lost infinite range when it pervaded our space. To visualize this, recall from Chapter 7 how the Higgs field gives masses to the particles that interact with it, including the exchange particles of the weak and the GUT interaction. The larger the mass of an exchange particle, the smaller the range of the force it transmits. Conversely, infinite range can be realized only by forces that are carried by massless field particles.
Henning Genz (Nothingness: The Science Of Empty Space)
Break free from such self-limiting and unhealthy thought patterns. Of course, you deserve better in life or will find someone who treats you with respect and dignity. To keep you in your place, manipulators will resort to plenty of name-calling. If you express a desire, they will make you feel as though you are arrogant, selfish, proud, cold, and inhumane. They want you to remain dependent on them. By seeking new opportunities for jobs, relationships, hobbies, etc., you are only weakening their control over you.
Christopher Kingler (Masters of Emotional Blackmail: Disarm the Hidden Techniques of the Blackmailer, Set Boundaries and Free Yourself from Feelings of Fear, Obligation, Guilt and Anxiety)
For more than forty years the ZMC-2 languished in an abandoned hangar along the runway of a deserted naval air station near Key West, Florida. Then in 1988, the property was sold by the government to a financial conglomerate headed by a wealthy publisher, Raymond LeBaron, who intended to develop it as a resort. Shortly after arriving from his corporate headquarters in Chicago to inspect the newly purchased naval base, LeBaron stumbled onto the dusty and corroded remains of the ZMC-2 and became intrigued. Charging it off to promotion, he had the old lighter-than air craft reassembled and the engines rebuilt, calling her the Prosperteer after the business magazine that was the base of his financial empire, and emblazoning the name in huge red letters on the side of the envelope.
Clive Cussler (Cyclops (Dirk Pitt, #8))
There was nothing particularly new about the name-calling. It was the same language Sir Sidney Lee had used a century before (“ madhouse chatter,” “foolish craze,” “morbid psychology”). The language betrayed a lack of confidence in their own position. Instead of arguing calmly from facts, they resorted to the old ad hominem attacks.
Elizabeth Winkler (Shakespeare Was a Woman and Other Heresies: How Doubting the Bard Became the Biggest Taboo in Literature)
In the evening I roam about the gloomy Quarter, and cross the St. Martin's canal. It is as dark as the grave, and seems exactly made to drown oneself in. I remain standing at the corner of Rue Alibert. Why Alibert? Who is he? Was not the graphite which the chemist found in my sulphur called Alibert-graphite? Well, what of it? Strangely enough, an impression of something not yet explained remains in my mind. Then I enter Rue Dieu. Why "Dieu," when the Republic has washed its hands of God? Then Rue Beaurepaire—a fine resort of criminals. Rue de Vaudry—is the Devil conducting me? I take no more notice of the names of the streets, wander on, turn round, find I have lost my way, and recoil from a shed which exhales an odour of raw flesh and bad vegetables, especially sauerkraut. Suspicious-looking figures brush past me, muttering objurgations. I become nervous, turn to the right, then to the left, and get into a dark blind alley, the haunt of filth and crime. Street girls bar my way, street boys grin at me. The scene of Christmas night is repeated, "_Væ soli!_."[2] Who is it that plays me these treacherous tricks as soon as I seek for solitude? Someone has brought me into this plight. Where is he? I wish to fight with him!
August Strindberg (Inferno)
Mary Carter Paint Company. Founded in 1958 as the successor to a 1908 company, it started as an acquirer of other paint companies, then evolved into a resort and casino developer in the Bahamas. Changing its name to Resorts International, it divested itself of the paint business and name. In 1972 the company had warrants that sold for 27 cents when the stock traded at $8 a share. The warrants were so cheap because they were worthless unless the stock traded above $40 a share. Fat chance. Since our model said the warrants were worth $4 a share, we bought all we could at the unbelievable bargain price of 27 cents each, which turned out to be 10,800 warrants at a total cost, after commissions, of $3,200. We hedged our risk of loss by shorting eight hundred shares of the common stock at $8. When the stock later fell to $1.50 a share, we bought back our short stock for a profit of about $5,000. Our gain now consisted of the warrants for “free” plus about $1,800 in cash. The warrants were trading close to zero but below the tiny amount the model said they were worth, so I decided we should put them away and forget them. Six busy years passed. Then in 1978 we started getting calls from people who wanted to buy our warrants. The company had purchased property in Atlantic City, New Jersey, after which it successfully lobbied, along with others, to bring casino gambling to the state, limited to Atlantic City. On May 26, 1978, Resorts opened the first US casino outside Nevada. Having received early approval, they had no competition and reaped windfall profits until other casinos opened late in 1979. With the stock now trading at $15 a share, ten times its earlier lowest price, and the warrants trading between $3 and $4, the model said they were worth about $7 or $8. So, instead of selling and reaping a $30,000 to $40,000 profit, I bought more warrants and sold stock short to hedge the risk of loss. As the stock broke through the $100 mark, we were still buying warrants and shorting stock. We finally sold the 27-cent warrants and others for above $100 each. We ultimately made more than $1 million.
Edward O. Thorp (A Man for All Markets: From Las Vegas to Wall Street, How I Beat the Dealer and the Market)
come to call “ideograms.” An ideogram is often a pictorial character that refers not to the visible entity that it explicitly pictures but to some quality or other phenomenon readily associated with that entity. Thus—to invent a simple example—a stylized image of a jaguar with its feet off the ground might come to signify “speed.” For the Chinese, even today, a stylized image of the sun and moon together signifies “brightness”; similarly, the word for “east” is invoked by a stylized image of the sun rising behind a tree.5 The efficacy of these pictorially derived systems necessarily entails a shift of sensory participation away from the voices and gestures of the surrounding landscape toward our own human-made images. However, the glyphs which constitute the bulk of these ancient scripts continually remind the reading body of its inherence in a more-than-human field of meanings. As signatures not only of the human form but of other animals, trees, sun, moon, and landforms, they continually refer our senses beyond the strictly human sphere.6 Yet even a host of pictograms and related ideograms will not suffice for certain terms that exist in the local discourse. Such terms may refer to phenomena that lack any precise visual association. Consider, for example, the English word “belief.” How might we signify this term in a pictographic, or ideographic, manner? An image of a phantasmagorical monster, perhaps, or one of a person in prayer. Yet no such ideogram would communicate the term as readily and precisely as the simple image of a bumblebee, followed by the figure of a leaf. We could, that is, resort to a visual pun, to images of things that have nothing overtly to do with belief but which, when named in sequence, carry the same sound as the spoken term “belief” (“bee-leaf”). And indeed, such pictographic puns, or rebuses, came to be employed early on by scribes in ancient China and in Mesoamerica as well as in the Middle East, to record certain terms that were especially amorphous or resistant to visual representation. Thus, for instance, the Sumerian word ti, which means
David Abram (The Spell of the Sensuous: Perception and Language in a More-Than-Human World)
Perhaps it was foolhardy to suppose that in real life we could undo what had been done, cancel our knowledge of evil, uninvent our weapons, stow away what remained in some safe hiding place. With the devastation of World War II still grimly visible, its stench hardly gone from the air, the community of nations started to fragment, its members splitting into factions, resorting to threats and, finally, to violence and to war. The certainty of peace had proved little more than a fragile dream. “And so the great democracies triumphed,” Sir Winston Churchill wrote later. “And so were able to resume the follies that had nearly cost them their life.” Prophetic as he was, Churchill did not foresee the awesome extremes to which these follies would extend: diplomacy negotiated within a balance of nuclear terror; resistance tactics translated into guidelines for fanatics and terrorists; intelligence agencies evolving technologically to a level where they could threaten the very principles of the nations they were created to defend. One way or another, such dragon’s teeth were sown in the secret activities of World War II. Questions of utmost gravity emerged: Were crucial events being maneuvered by elite secret power groups? Were self-aggrandizing careerists cynically displacing principle among those entrusted with the stewardship of intelligence? What had happened over three decades to an altruistic force that had played so pivotal a role in saving a free world from annihilation or slavery? In the name of sanity, the past now had to be seen clearly. The time had come to open the books.
William Stevenson (A Man Called Intrepid: The Incredible True Story of the Master Spy Who Helped Win World War II)
Despite the perma-shock in which many of us have lived our entire lives, with alarms in our ears made only more shrill by 24 hour news cycles, and unrelenting internet death row photos of dogs and cats at animal shelters, we inexplicably expect our shocking truths--that ours is a society built on oppression, rape and murder--to get heard the first time through. When the truths aren't heard, we end up beyond frustrated. We butt up against other people's moral hypocrisies and shut down as we hear the same stories about people who are compassionate but still eat animals. We grow weary of taking people's hands and walking them down the road to see the more than 23 million chickens killed for food every day in the U.S. And we forget that people can't see the animals hiding in their words and signifiers; we forget that we can't see them either. Beyond beef and bacon, there are other words that hide animals: deforestation, road construction, housing development, war. We must learn to be attuned to those words. And we have to learn how to speak kindly to people who are thinking about them, even if they don't recognize the absent referents in their speech. When we are thinking about how oppressors have guns, prisons, and slaughterhouses, we remember that words are weapons. When we turn them on each other and our potential allies, we forget. Out of frustration over all the things that haven't gotten better, we resort to name calling, dismiss the possibility of bridge building with other movements and within our own, and retreat back to internet cliques to discuss cupcake recipes or bash something read in the Huffington Post.
Sarahjane Blum (Confronting Animal Exploitation: Grassroots Essays on Liberation and Veganism)
Just awful,” said Theodosia. Drayton faced Theodosia with sad eyes. “I agree. A gentleman should never resort to name-calling.” “I meant the condos,” Theodosia replied.
Laura Childs (Death by Darjeeling (A Tea Shop Mystery, #1))