Rewrite Best Quotes

I will write in words of fire. I will write them on your skin. I will write about desire. Write beginnings, write of sin. You’re the book I love the best, your skin only holds my truth, you will be a palimpsest lines of age rewriting youth. You will not burn upon the pyre. Or be buried on the shelf. You’re my letter to desire: And you’ll never read yourself. I will trace each word and comma As the final dusk descends, You’re my tale of dreams and drama, Let us find out how it ends.

There's a Chinese saying. 'When is the best time to plant a tree? Twenty years ago.' " The Chinese engineer smiles. "Good one." " 'When is the next best time? Now.' " "Ah! Okay!" The smile turns real. Until today, he has never planted anything. But Now, that next best of times, is long, and rewrites everything.

The best writing is rewriting.

When our villains win, do not fret, just rewrite the story. - mother knows best II

What if we’re there for each other’s big moments, but we aren’t at the heart of those big moments anymore? What if the universe always wanted us to meet and stay in each other’s lives forever as best friends? What if we rewrite everything we expect from happy endings? Or . . . What if we haven’t seen the best us yet?

When men understand that the best way to solve their own problem is to help women solve those that men have created for women, they will have taken one of the first significant steps toward its solution. . . . The truth will make men free as well as women.

You don’t propose marriage after one date. You don’t decide on a career after one article or class session. You don’t cast your vote based on one opinion of the candidate in question. Stories, essays, novels, and memoirs all deserve to be, indeed have to be read multiple times. Every writer worth his or her salt knows that writing is rewriting. Every reader should know the same thing about understanding text: that is, real reading is rereading.

If life is a movie most people would consider themselves the star of their own feature. Guys might imagine they're living some action adventure epic. Chicks maybe are in a rose-colored fantasy romance. And homosexuals are living la vida loca in a fabulous musical. Still others may take the indie approach and think of themselves as an anti-hero in a coming of age flick. Or a retro badass in an exploitation B movie. Or the cable man in a very steamy adult picture. Some people's lives are experimental student art films that don't make any sense. Some are screwball comedies. Others resemble a documentary, all serious and educational. A few lives achieve blockbuster status and are hailed as a tribute to the human spirit. Some gain a small following and enjoy cult status. And some never got off the ground due to insufficient funding. I don't know what my life is but I do know that I'm constantly squabbling with the director over creative control, throwing prima donna tantrums and pouting in my personal trailor when things don't go my way. Much of our lives is spent on marketing. Make-up, exercise, dieting, clothes, hair, money, charm, attitude, the strut, the pose, the Blue Steel look. We're like walking billboards advertising ourselves. A sneak peek of upcoming attractions. Meanwhile our actual production is in disarray--we're over budget, doing poorly at private test screenings and focus groups, creatively stagnant, morale low. So we're endlessly tinkering, touching up, editing, rewriting, tailoring ourselves to best suit a mass audience. There's like this studio executive in our heads telling us to cut certain things out, make it "lighter," give it a happy ending, and put some explosions in there too. Kids love explosions. And the uncompromising artist within protests: "But that's not life!" Thus the inner conflict of our movie life: To be a palatable crowd-pleaser catering to the mainstream... or something true to life no matter what they say?

Right now each of us is a private oral culture. We rewrite our pasts to suit our needs and support the story we tell about ourselves. With our memories we are all guilty of a Whig interpretation of our personal histories, seeing our former selves as steps toward our glorious present selves.

Never say never,” Arthur says. “Right?” So much hope hangs in one word. “Right,” I say. “Never know what the universe has planned for us.” I don’t know what we have planned for us. What if there’s a do-over down the line for us? What if we end up in the same city again and pick up where we left off? What if we go as far as we once hoped we would, and boom, happy ending for us? But what if this is it for us? What if we never get to kiss again? What if we’re there for each other’s big moments, but we aren’t at the heart of those big moments anymore? What if the universe always wanted us to meet and stay in each other’s lives forever as best friends? What if we rewrite everything we expect from happy endings? Or . . . What if we haven’t seen the best us yet?

The cover is alluring. The beginning may be enthralling. But there's no culmination and no happy ending. So I sagely advise you to stop chaptering. I'm badly written." His nose met mine. "Give me the rights, and I'll edit and rewrite. Polish you to perfection. But you won't make best sellers, for you’ll never be published. You will be on my shelf only.

Civilization had too many rules for me, so I did my best to rewrite them. —BILL COSBY

Allen Ginsberg instructs: "First thought, best thought." Oh, to have my every spontaneous thought count as poetry! No draft after draft like a draft horse. Clayton Eshleman, laughing, said, "'First thought best thought' is not 'First word best word ' Ginsberg does rewrite. I'm sure he does.

Sometimes the best edit is a complete rewrite.

The beauty of postmodernism was that it erased the world with one hand while rewriting it with the other, allowing you to inherit the authority you discredited like a spoil of war.

Give me the rights, and I’ll edit and rewrite. Polish you to perfection. But you won’t make best sellers, for you’ll never be published. You will be on my shelf only.

What if there’s a do-over down the line for us? What if we end up in the same city again and pick up where we left off? What if we go as far as we once hoped we would, and boom, happy ending for us? But what if this is it for us? What if we never get to kiss again? What if we’re there for each other’s big moments, but we aren’t at the heart of those big moments anymore? What if the universe always wanted us to meet and stay in each other’s lives forever as best friends? What if we rewrite everything we expect from happy endings? Or… What if we haven’t seen the best us yet?

My first book was a pile of trash, but I still feel fulfilled knowing that I grinded for four years to put out that work of art. Re-writing it seventeen times while manic probably wasn't the best idea, though...or while dealing with my multiple personalities.

In our day civil governments have a vested interest in protecting marriage because strong families constitute the best way of providing for the health, education, welfare, and prosperity of rising generations. But civil governments are heavily influenced by social trends and secular philosophies as they write, rewrite, and enforce laws. Regardless of what civil legislation may be enacted, the doctrine of the Lord regarding marriage and morality cannot be changed. Remember: sin, even if legalized by man, is still sin in the eyes of God!

We can’t change someone’s path once their mind is made up. You can’t go back and rewrite his story or think of the what-ifs. It’s why you shouldn’t try to scramble that letter into something it’s not. You accept what people have done and respond to it in the way that’s best for you.

By the respectable terms of the modern literary profession, novelists do not preach. And, in fact, there has probably not been a less respectable novelist among the irrefutably enduring writers of our time than Ayn Rand: philosopher queen of the best-seller lists in the forties and fifties, cult phenomenon and nationally declared threat to public morality in the sixties, guru to the Libertarians and to White House economic policy in the seventies, and a continuing exemplar or Wilde's tragic observation that more than half of modern culture depends on what one shouldn't read.

I have a lot of dreams, Cade Jennings. But none of them compare to the best dream come true of all. Loving you. Being loved by you. It’s the most special and real feeling I’ve ever experienced. I think I’m in a place now where the whole author thing can be done from anywhere—from Sutten—as long as it’s somewhere with you.

Never let go of your appetite to go after new ideas, new experiences, and new adventures. Compete with yourself, not with others. Judge yourself on what is your personal best and you’ll accomplish more than you could ever have imagined. Life stops for no one, so keep moving. Stay awake and stay alive. There’s no AutoCorrect in life—think before texting the universe. Breaking the rules just for fun is too easy—the real challenge lies in perfecting the art of knowing which rules to accept and which to rewrite. The more you experiment, take risks, and make mistakes, the better you’ll know yourself, the better you’ll know the world, and the more focused you’ll be.

Faced with an ecological crisis whose roots lie in this disengagement, in the separation of human agency and social responsibility from the sphere of our direct involvement with the non-human environment, it surely behoves us to reverse this order of priority. I began with the point that while both humans and animals have histories of their mutual relations, only humans narrate such histories. But to construct a narrative, one must already dwell in the world and, in the dwelling, enter into relationships with its constituents, both human and non-human. I am suggesting that we rewrite the history of human-animal relations, taking this condition of active engagement, of being-in-the-world, as our starting point. We might speak of it as a history of human concern with animals, insofar as this notion conveys a caring, attentive regard, a 'being with'. And I am suggesting that those of us who are 'with' animals in their day-to-day lives, most notably hunters and herdsmen, can offer us some of the best possible indications of how we might proceed.

Pham Nuwen spent years learning to program/explore. Programming went back to the beginning of time. It was a little like the midden out back of his father’s castle. Where the creek had worn that away, ten meters down, there were the crumpled hulks of machines—flying machines, the peasants said—from the great days of Canberra’s original colonial era. But the castle midden was clean and fresh compared to what lay within the Reprise’s local net. There were programs here that had been written five thousand years ago, before Humankind ever left Earth. The wonder of it—the horror of it, Sura said—was that unlike the useless wrecks of Canberra’s past, these programs still worked! And via a million million circuitous threads of inheritance, many of the oldest programs still ran in the bowels of the Qeng Ho system. Take the Traders’ method of timekeeping. The frame corrections were incredibly complex—and down at the very bottom of it was a little program that ran a counter. Second by second, the Qeng Ho counted from the instant that a human had first set foot on Old Earth’s moon. But if you looked at it still more closely. . .the starting instant was actually some hundred million seconds later, the 0-second of one of Humankind’s first computer operating systems. So behind all the top-level interfaces was layer under layer of support. Some of that software had been designed for wildly different situations. Every so often, the inconsistencies caused fatal accidents. Despite the romance of spaceflight, the most common accidents were simply caused by ancient, misused programs finally getting their revenge. “We should rewrite it all,” said Pham. “It’s been done,” said Sura, not looking up. She was preparing to go off-Watch, and had spent the last four days trying to root a problem out of the coldsleep automation. “It’s been tried,” corrected Bret, just back from the freezers. “But even the top levels of fleet system code are enormous. You and a thousand of your friends would have to work for a century or so to reproduce it.” Trinli grinned evilly. “And guess what—even if you did, by the time you finished, you’d have your own set of inconsistencies. And you still wouldn’t be consistent with all the applications that might be needed now and then.” Sura gave up on her debugging for the moment. “The word for all this is ‘mature programming environment.’ Basically, when hardware performance has been pushed to its final limit, and programmers have had several centuries to code, you reach a point where there is far more signicant code than can be rationalized. The best you can do is understand the overall layering, and know how to search for the oddball tool that may come in handy—take the situation I have here.” She waved at the dependency chart she had been working on. “We are low on working fluid for the coffins. Like a million other things, there was none for sale on dear old Canberra. Well, the obvious thing is to move the coffins near the aft hull, and cool by direct radiation. We don’t have the proper equipment to support this—so lately, I’ve been doing my share of archeology. It seems that five hundred years ago, a similar thing happened after an in-system war at Torma. They hacked together a temperature maintenance package that is precisely what we need.” “Almost precisely.

It’s painfully simple but also challenging to execute because it requires a rewrite, a re-rendering, a reboot, and a reframe. And the best part is that it requires nothing from your partner—this is entirely within your control. It is the most unromantic piece of advice you will ever receive: Manage your expectations. Let go of the rescue fantasy. If you don’t, and you decide to stay, it will only destroy you, bit by bit. So now that you know the beast is never going to turn into a prince.

When a child estranges herself from you (there’s that word Eleanor tries not to employ when speaking of her situation, but it applies) you can allow it to crush you. Or you rebuild your world—smaller maybe, less ambitious, imperfect, with space for sorrow, but also occasional joy. Maybe you see your child only once a year. Maybe never. Maybe she doesn’t want you to see your grandchildren. She may rewrite the history of her childhood, casting you as the source of her greatest trauma. She gets to have her story. But nobody can take away yours—that you loved her, you tried your best. The door remains open.

Before 1975, if you knew the name Howard Sackler it was because he was the author behind the 1969 Broadway play The Great White Hope, which won Sackler the Tony and New York Drama Critics Circle award as the year’s Best Play as well as the Pulitzer Prize for Drama. A friend of film producer David Brown, Sackler accepted the offer to do a re-write on Jaws author Peter Benchley’s script for the film version of his novel. Sackler’s main contribution to the story was the back story that the shark fisherman, Quint, derived his hatred for sharks from having survived the sinking of the U.S.S. Indianapolis in July of 1945 (in the film, Quint errantly states the date as “June the 29th, 1945”).

Like Willow, we all can honor our pain and then move toward something more joyful. We can focus on our resilience and remember our joys or sorrows. We can craft stories that tell us we are loved, strong, resilient, respected, worthy, generous, forgiven, and happy. We all have such stories if only we can uncover them.... To rewrite our story, we need effort and imagination. We can access imagination by journaling, painting, music, or art. One of my favorite things about writing is that I get to tell a second story about whatever happens to me. And, in this second story I can shape events in ways that are more beautiful and happiness-producing. Indeed, what is all art if not an attempt to tell a better story? Some of our stories bring out the best in us, whereas others induce despair, fear or anger. We can ask ourselves questions that remind us of our kindness, hard work, and strength over the years. We can explore our uncelebrated virtues and our survival skills.

As an aside, Sheldon Rovin in his first draft of a guide to Systems Thinking, repeated this old chestnut: The often-quoted tribal wisdom of the Dakota Indians, passed on from generation to generation, says that, ‘When you discover that you are riding a dead horse, the best strategy is to dismount.’ However, in government more advanced strategies are often employed, such as: 1. Buying a stronger whip. 2. Changing riders. 29 3. Appointing a committee to study the horse. 4.    Arranging to visit other countries to see how other cultures ride horses. 5. Lowering the standards so that dead horses can be included. 6. Reclassifying the dead horse as living impaired. 7. Hiring outside contractors to ride the dead horse. 82 8. Harnessing several dead horses together to increase speed. 9. Providing extra funding/training to increase the dead horse’s performance. 10.  Doing a productivity study to see if lighter riders would improve the dead horse’s performance. 3 11.  Declaring that as the dead horse does not have to be fed, it is less costly, carries lower overhead and therefore contributes substantially more to the bottom line of the economy than live horses. 12.  Rewriting the expected performance requirements for all horses. And, of course… 13.  Promoting the dead horse to a supervisory position.

Astonishment: these women’s military professions—medical assistant, sniper, machine gunner, commander of an antiaircraft gun, sapper—and now they are accountants, lab technicians, museum guides, teachers…Discrepancy of the roles—here and there. Their memories are as if not about themselves, but some other girls. Now they are surprised at themselves. Before my eyes history “humanizes” itself, becomes like ordinary life. Acquires a different lighting. I’ve happened upon extraordinary storytellers. There are pages in their lives that can rival the best pages of the classics. The person sees herself so clearly from above—from heaven, and from below—from the ground. Before her is the whole path—up and down—from angel to beast. Remembering is not a passionate or dispassionate retelling of a reality that is no more, but a new birth of the past, when time goes in reverse. Above all it is creativity. As they narrate, people create, they “write” their life. Sometimes they also “write up” or “rewrite.” Here you have to be vigilant. On your guard. At the same time pain melts and destroys any falsehood. The temperature is too high! Simple people—nurses, cooks, laundresses—behave more sincerely, I became convinced of that…They, how shall I put it exactly, draw the words out of themselves and not from newspapers and books they have read—not from others. But only from their own sufferings and experiences. The feelings and language of educated people, strange as it may be, are often more subject to the working of time. Its general encrypting. They are infected by secondary knowledge. By myths. Often I have to go for a long time, by various roundabout ways, in order to hear a story of a “woman’s,” not a “man’s” war: not about how we retreated, how we advanced, at which sector of the front…It takes not one meeting, but many sessions. Like a persistent portrait painter. I sit for a long time, sometimes a whole day, in an unknown house or apartment. We drink tea, try on the recently bought blouses, discuss hairstyles and recipes. Look at photos of the grandchildren together. And then…After a certain time, you never know when or why, suddenly comes this long-awaited moment, when the person departs from the canon—plaster and reinforced concrete, like our monuments—and goes on to herself. Into herself. Begins to remember not the war but her youth. A piece of her life…I must seize that moment. Not miss it! But often, after a long day, filled with words, facts, tears, only one phrase remains in my memory (but what a phrase!): “I was so young when I left for the front, I even grew during the war.” I keep it in my notebook, although I have dozens of yards of tape in my tape recorder. Four or five cassettes… What helps me? That we are used to living together. Communally. We are communal people. With us everything is in common—both happiness and tears. We know how to suffer and how to tell about our suffering. Suffering justifies our hard and ungainly life.

sometimes the best thing to do is rewrite history, or at least our perspective about it, just enough to help us keep going.

I began to see all kinds of ways that climate change could become a catalyzing force for positive change—how it could be the best argument progressives have ever had to demand the rebuilding and reviving of local economies; to reclaim our democracies from corrosive corporate influence; to block harmful new free trade deals and rewrite old ones; to invest in starving public infrastructure like mass transit and affordable housing; to take back ownership of essential services like energy and water; to remake our sick agricultural system into something much healthier; to open borders to migrants whose displacement is linked to climate impacts; to finally respect Indigenous land rights—all of which would help to end grotesque levels of inequality within our nations and between them.

_______________________________________________________________ The primary setting that best fits this event is: _______________ _______________________________________________________________ The recurring pattern in my life that I want to break free from is: _______________ _______________________________________________________________

The Things They Carried has sold over two million copies internationally, won numerous awards, and is an English classroom staple. Isabel Allende was the first writer to hold me inside a sentence, rapt and wondrous. It's no surprise that her most transformative writing springs from personal anguish. Her first book, The House of the Spirits, began as a letter to her dying grandfather whom she could not reach in time. Eva Luna, one of my favorite novels, is about an orphan girl who uses her storytelling gift to survive and thrive amid trauma, and Allende refers to the healing power of writing in many of her interviews. Allende's books have sold over fifty-six million copies, been translated into thirty languages, and been made into successful plays and movies. Such is the power of mining your deep. Jeanette Winterson acknowledges that her novel Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit is her own story of growing up gay in a fundamentalist Christian household in the 1950s. She wrote it to create psychic space from the trauma. In her memoir, she writes of Oranges, “I wrote a story I could live with. The other one was too painful. I could not survive it.” Sherman Alexie, who grew up in poverty on an Indian reservation that as a child he never dreamed he could leave, does something similar in his young adult novel, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-time Indian, named one of the “Best Books of 2007” by School Library Journal. He has said that fictionalizing life is so satisfying because he can spin the story better than real life did. Nora Ephron's roman à clef Heartburn is a sharply funny, fictionalized account of Ephron's own marriage to Carl Bernstein. She couldn't control his cheating during her pregnancy or the subsequent dissolution of their marriage, but through the novelization of her experience, she got to revise the ending of that particular story. In Heartburn, Rachel, the character based on Ephron, is asked

In Opening Up: The Healing Power of Expressing Emotions, expressive therapy pioneer Dr. James W. Pennebaker devotes several chapters to the history and power of personal honesty. According to his extensive studies, all humans have inappropriate thoughts, fears, and uncomfortable memories. The best way to move past them is to travel through them.

It’s also best (although not required) to have a project in mind as you go through the system. For instance, maybe you want to write (or rewrite) your website, or maybe you want to craft a sales letter.

Books have always been my best companions. They have not only provided entertainment but also served as wise, nonjudgmental mentors whenever I needed advice. The problem with my situation was that I had not come across a single book to guide me or at least accompany me as I laid out the roadmap for the rest of my life. In fact, I had no idea how I had arrived at this unfamiliar crossroad. I certainly did not deserve to be in this predicament.

We need a revolution in mental health awareness to help us grasp the wonder and complexity of human behavior, health and functioning, and the nuances and intersections of brilliance and madness. This starts with dismantling myopic myths that prevent us from seeing the simultaneous wonder and complexity of our fullest selves. It involves providing access to the tools that mitigate being overtaken by the ravages of burnout and mental decompensation: the very risks of living in the modern world. Our sense-making approaches need to be comprehensive- grounded both scientifically and medically, steeped in love, and in ways that account for the multidimensionality of emotional and spiritual essence. Those that go beyond what the mind can first conceive of. This new mental health imperative relies upon universal precautions and a vehement resistance to linear checklists and binary labels that frame our gorgeous spirits solely as either complex and fraught or indomitable and wondrous. It also relies not on good will and best practices but the moral courage of policy makers to treat human beings like human beings. Dogs are often treated better than people. This is our new imperative: to radically change the way we care for ourselves and one another. We cannot extricate ourselves from the fact that the lines we walk are incredibly thin and blurry, and our only hope is to rewrite and navigate them together in solidarity, with every measure of creative reason and conscious community that can be mustered...

I love you. I’ve been in love with you my entire life, Cade Jennings. This summer was the best summer of my life because of you. And if you felt anything close to what I feel for you, you wouldn’t let us end this way.

Cade leans in, trapping my lips between his before I can get out any kind of answer for him. It’s best that way, I was about to tell him that loving him never felt like a choice to me—it feels embedded in my soul. It just is. No choice, no accident. But that would’ve been me confessing I’ve fallen for him, and I don’t know if we’re ready for that yet.

I’m tired of fighting myself over how much I think about you. I’m tired of telling myself that I shouldn’t look at my little sister’s best friend the way I look at you. I’m really just tired of pretending that my entire head isn’t full of you and only you.

I wish that Cade and I can figure this out together. I wish for this to be the best summer of my life. My biggest wish is that I get to keep him once this summer ends.

I hate knowing the best thing I can do for the woman I’m hopelessly in love with is to let her go.

We’re probably a show for those around us, just innocent bystanders trying to buy books. They don’t know that I’m breaking inside or how much it hurts me to know I can’t be the best for someone who is everything to me. “You’re meant to go, and I’m meant to stay.

Our story is nowhere near perfect. We had bumps and bruises along the way that took ages to heal. But the imperfections make it ours. And to me, it’s the best love story that’s ever been told.

I want what’s best for you. And from what I’ve observed over the years, what’s best for the both of you, is each other. The two of you have always been like magnets. It’s always been like you can sense each other. It’s something special that I don’t think comes around often.

I want what’s best for you. And from what I’ve observed over the years, what’s best for the both of you, is each other.

Scene by scene, look at the verbs you’ve chosen: Are they the best verbs, the most active, the most surprising? Or are they more pedestrian, everyday, overly mundane? Replacing even some of the most typical verbs with more precise and interesting ones will lift the level of your prose.

But note that there are plenty of reasons you might use to be: the goal here isn’t to eliminate it entirely, only to be sure you’re always using the strongest verb you can, on your way to making the best sentence possible.

It gives a fifth story, a story that is completely unlike any of the canonical four, a fifth story that in effect rewrites the Gospels, producing a fifth Gospel. This is perfectly fine to do if that’s what you want—it’s a free country, and no one can stop you. But for historical critics, this is not the best way to approach the Gospels.

Ah, that was a long time ago. Best not dwell on the parts of your story you couldn’t rewrite.

In my opinion, probably the most important opportunity is designing your software to be flexible. I’ve described this as “fail open and layer policy”; the best system rewrite is the one that didn’t happen, and if you can avoid baking in arbitrary policy decisions that will change frequently over time, then you are much more likely to be able to keep using a system for the long term.

There’s an amazing family of genes, called HOX genes. When they’re mutated in fruit flies (Drosophila melanogaster) the results are incredible phenotypes, such as legs growing out of the head14. There’s a long ncRNA known as HOTAIR, which regulates a region of genes called the HOX-D cluster. Just like the long ncRNAs investigated by Jeannie Lee, HOTAIR binds the PRC2 complex and creates a chromatin region which is marked with repressive histone modifications. But HOTAIR is not transcribed from the HOX-D position on chromosome 12. Instead it is encoded at a different cluster of genes called HOX-C on chromosome 215. No-one knows how or why HOTAIR binds at the HOX-D position. There’s a related mystery around the best studied of all long ncRNAs, Xist. Xist ncRNA spreads out along almost the entire inactive X chromosome but we really don’t know how. Chromosomes don’t normally become smothered with RNA molecules. There’s no obvious reason why Xist RNA should be able to bind like this, but we know it’s nothing to do with the sequence of the chromosome. The experiments described in the last chapter, where Xist could inactivate an entire autosome as long as it contained an X inactivation centre, showed that Xist just keeps on travelling once it’s on a chromosome. Scientists are basically still completely baffled about these fundamental characteristics of this best-studied of all ncRNAs.

If you are working on a short story for a small online press, don't try to write a serious, world-changing, add-this-to-the-literary-canon masterpiece. Do your best work, but keep it all in perspective. Save the stress for when it is really called for, like facing a two-week deadline to rewrite a novel for a major house.

Meyer summarizes his code of honor as “(1) Show up. (2) Work hard. (3) Be kind. (4) Take the high road.” As he contributed in ways that revealed his skills without spawning jealousy, colleagues began to admire and trust his comedic genius. “People started to see him as somebody who wasn’t just motivated personally,” Tim Long explains. “You don’t think of him as a competitor. He’s someone you can think of on a higher plane, and can trust creatively.” Carolyn Omine adds, “Compared to other writers’ rooms I’ve been in, I would say The Simpsons tends to look longer for jokes. I think it’s because we have writers, like George, who will say, ‘No, that’s not quite right,’ even if it’s late, even if we’re all tired. I think that’s an important quality. We need those people, like George, who aren’t afraid to say, ‘No, this isn’t good enough. We can do better.’” In a classic article, the psychologist Edwin Hollander argued that when people act generously in groups, they earn idiosyncrasy credits—positive impressions that accumulate in the minds of group members. Since many people think like matchers, when they work in groups, it’s very common for them to keep track of each member’s credits and debits. Once a group member earns idiosyncrasy credits through giving, matchers grant that member a license to deviate from a group’s norms or expectations. As Berkeley sociologist Robb Willer summarizes, “Groups reward individual sacrifice.” On The Simpsons, Meyer amassed plenty of idiosyncrasy credits, earning latitude to contribute original ideas and shift the creative direction of the show. “One of the best things about developing that credibility was if I wanted to try something that was fairly strange, people would be willing to at least give it a shot at the table read,” Meyer reflects. “They ended up not rewriting my stuff as much as they had early on, because they knew I had a decent track record. I think people saw that my heart was in the right place—my intentions were good. That goes a long way.

The High Priestess met his eyes, evaluating him for another long moment. “I have wondered always what kind of man you would become, Narian. You can believe what you will, but to me you were never just a tool to be forged, an instrument of unique purpose and, therefore, worth. You came to me as a babe in arms, and I treated you as my son to the extent my brother would permit. Now I see that you are also a rare man.” Nantilam shifted her commanding eyes to me. “And you, Alera, are no doubt part of the reason. Had you been born Cokyrian, you would probably be at my side, one of my trusted shield maidens, for you have more than enough courage and ingenuity to merit such an honor. Again, something I did not expect to find in Hytanica.” “Then let’s come to it,” Narian snapped. “Be the wise and fair ruler I grew up believing you to be. If Cannan and his men should succeed in routing our troops, then accept that outcome and recognize Hytanica as a free land. Negotiate a peace treaty with Alera. Ask for whatever crops and goods Cokyri needs, but trade for them.” “You cannot rewrite history, Narian,” she reproached. “Hytanica asked to be conquered the day its king attacked us. I was charged with that crusade before I was even crowned.” “You cannot rewrite history, but you don’t have to be controlled by it, either,” he argued, and Nantilam’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “In the end, the Overlord’s crusade had little to do with history. He wanted to dominate Hytanica for domination’s sake. That was never your purpose--you fought to preserve your people’s pride and their heritage, you took the actions you believed necessary to ensure your empire’s growth and prosperity. Reaffirm your goals now--recognize that what is best for Cokyri is enduring peace with Hytanica.” “And are you giving me advice as the commander of my military, or are you issuing a threat?” “I am offering advice,” Narian replied, with a deferential bow, then his tone and posture subtly became more intimidating. “Although I will stand against you if I am forced to make that choice.” The High Priestess came to her feet, and for the first time, I saw indecision on her face. If Narian fought against her, any battle with Hytanica would be long and brutal, with no guarantee of victory. The Overlord’s powers had not passed to her, would not in all probability reemerge until Nantilam gave birth to a daughter, so for the time being, Narian held the upper hand.

all kinds of ways that climate change could become a catalyzing force for positive change—how it could be the best argument progressives have ever had to demand the rebuilding and reviving of local economies; to reclaim our democracies from corrosive corporate influence; to block harmful new free trade deals and rewrite old ones; to invest in starving public infrastructure like mass transit and affordable housing; to take back ownership of essential services like energy and water; to remake our sick agricultural system into something much healthier; to open borders to migrants whose displacement is linked to climate impacts; to finally respect Indigenous land rights—all

I've done this sort of thing before. Not prophecies so much, but you'd be surprised how many people want to realign their ancestral lines to seem nobler, or rewrite their family history to remove more morally questionable episodes." He paused to recall a recent rewrite. "One lord wanted the murderers removed from his family line. His family was so corrupt, he ended up with three virgin births, two generations removed entirely and a lady who gave birth at the age of two. Still, no one questions it as there is evidence in the archives." Bubo smugly tapped a book. "There is one thing though, faking a prophecy in the past is easy, you already know the result. How will you make this come true in the future?" "I have someone in mind for it, but I'm not sure he'll go for it. But then prophecy is all optional anyway." Corvid looked up as if a thought had occurred to him. "I'd best go check on my man, I've not met him yet.

So I saw that there is nothing better for men than that they should be happy in their work, for that is what they are here for, and no one can bring them back to life to enjoy what will be in the future, so let them enjoy it now. —Ecclesiastes 3:22 (TLB) Recently, I learned that a book on friendship that I’d written with my best friend, Melanie, was rejected by a publisher who had been very positive about it for over two years. I was devastated. All those months and years of writing, rewriting, and then reworking it again…only to have it rejected in the end. I was ready to give up my career altogether, retire, and concentrate on biking, swimming, kayaking, and traveling. Then I read something my pen pal Oscar had written about his own retirement twenty-five years earlier. He wrote that in retirement we must have direction and purpose, accept change, remain curious and confident, communicate, and be committed. The longer I looked at his list, the more it spoke to me. Why, those are the very attributes I need to be a good writer, I thought. So I decided to buckle down and rework other unsold manuscripts I’d written over the years. Using Oscar’s plan of direction, purpose, confidence, and commitment helped me to stop telling people that I didn’t have any marketing genes and to keep busy rewriting and looking for different publishers. I may never sell all of my work, but I’m living a life filled with purpose. And I’m a whole lot happier in my semiretirement than if I was just playing every day, all day. Father, give me purpose in life whether it’s volunteer work, pursuing dreams, reworking an old career, or finding a new way to use the talents You’ve given me. —Patricia Lorenz Digging Deeper: Prv 16:9; Rom 12:3–8

We write and rewrite to construct the best, in life we make our life and when we commit mistakes we try again so we could be the best

Grace was my best friend. I can't let anyone forget her. I'm sure you understand." Mr. Farrow smiled, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Of course, it's easy to rewrite history when we lose a loved one, isn't it? Sometimes we only remember the things we want to remember.

The best way to enter the game of listening to data is simply to develop extreme curiosity. Brands that are falling behind are not challenging themselves to change their businesses in kind or in degree with the massive shifts in marketing and communications today. Category context of a product or service doesn’t matter nearly as much as the cultural context of the consumer.

3. Develop a personal learning style Having known your personal profile, you can pick the learning style that can give you the most benefits. There are three common types of learning styles; Visual, Auditory and Kinesthetic. By identifying the learning style that best suit your profile, you will be able to maximize your strengths and compensate for your weaknesses. Visual Learning – If your dyslexia isn’t anything related to your visual processing or any visual dyslexia, this learning type may just suit you. Visual learners like to see things with the eyes. They likely think in pictures and uses different illustrations, diagrams, charts, graphs, videos and mind maps when they study. If you are a visual learner it will be useful to rewrite notes, put information on post-it notes and stick it everywhere, and to re-create images in the mind. Auditory Learning – Auditory learners, on the other hand, think in verbal words rather than in pictures. The best they can do to learn is to tape the information and replay it. It also helps if they discuss the materials that must be learned with others by participating in class discussions, asking questions to their teachers and even trying teaching others. It is also helpful to use audio books and read aloud when trying to memorize information. Kinesthetic Learning – Kinesthetic learners are those who are better to learn with direct exposure to the activity. They are the ‘hands-on’ people and learn best when they actually do something. For them, wiring a circuit board would be much more informative than listening to a lecture about circuits or reading a text book or about it. However, it may also help to underline important terms and meanings and highlight them with bright colors, write notes in the margin when learning from text and repeat information while walking. 4. Don’t force your mind Don’t force your mind to do something beyond your ability. Don’t force yourself to enter a library and finish reading a shelf of books in one day. Be patient on yourself. Take everything slowly and learn step by step. Do not also push yourself if you are not in the mood to read, it will just cause you unnecessary stress. 5.

One of the best things about developing that credibility was if I wanted to try something that was fairly strange, people would be willing to at least give it a shot at the table read,” Meyer reflects. “They ended up not rewriting my stuff as much as they had early on, because they knew I had a decent track record. I think people saw that my heart was in the right place—my intentions were good. That goes a long way.

While I was at University, and afterward, I behaved in what seemed to me to be a logical manner. But now I realize that what I did was do things irrationally, and then after I would arrange the events in my mind so they seemed to follow some sort of reasonable path. That is not logic -- it is wishful thinking, and involves rewriting one's own history as one goes along. Life is not logical -- it just goes along happening, and the best anyone can do is try to deal with the present as well as they can.

I was a burned-out star in the galaxy, and then she came into my life. She is the sun, moon, and all the stars in the sky. She is my light. “The best me has my arms around you.

every rewrite contains the danger of lost meaning or lost information or even the possibility you’ll make the sentence factually incorrect. So while reworking for clarity, the writer must always keep a tight rein on accuracy and meaning.

You don't stop loving someone even after they break your heart. You can't stop loving them, no matter what damage was done.

When I saw her! It was mid day, it was a sunny noon, When she passed through, I felt the shimmer of the moon, And for a moment I believed everything about her was true, Her eyes that radiated with the charm of the day, Her wavy arms that moved like the waves of calm and graceful sea, Her beautiful face that you would notice anyway, And when she passed by, you hoped this is what you would always and forever see, Her every step that led her somewhere, Made you forget your errands and just be with her, Wherever she went, just anywhere, And you imagined a life with her, only with her, And when she spoke to someone else, You cursed the skies for this prejudice, For in that moment you wanted to be this someone, and not anyone else, And you wanted to rewrite the fate’s treatise, So that whenever she talked, she only talked to you, Whenever she passed by someone in the street, She always passed staring at you, And wherever she went, it was just you she intended to meet, But right now, she just passed by and I saw her walk away, Until she had reached far, and become a distant star, And now I only keep gazing at the sky every night and day, And I deal with the never ending inner war, Where she still peeps through all my memories, Where she still makes me believe what I saw was true, And I feel like these helpless daisies, Who can do nothing, but just wait for the winter to pass and hope the sky will once again turn blue, So I am a flower that is rooted in its place and its faith, And I only grow in the field of her beauty, That is what my heart feels and that is what my mind always sayeth, For sometimes to love and to believe is the noblest duty! And I love her still although she is a star so distant, Rescued by my memories that form the only bridge, Between what I felt then , what I so long to feel now, ah it is a feeling so eminent, But I have to live with the star and its distance and volunteer myself for this daily emotional sacrilege! But then, living loving someone is a beautiful feeling, Maybe that is why daisies bloom every year, To witness the kiss of the summer, that magical thing, And for its sake bearing the pain of winter, seems nothing, every year, and every next year!

When I saw her! It was mid day, it was a sunny noon, When she passed through, I felt the shimmer of the moon, And for a moment I believed everything about her was true, Her eyes that radiated with the charm of the day, Her wavy arms that moved like the waves of calm and graceful sea, Her beautiful face that you would notice anyway, And when she passed by, you hoped this is what you would always and forever see, Her every step that led her somewhere, Made you forget your errands, because you only wished to be with her, Wherever she went, just anywhere, And you imagined a life with her, only with her, And when she spoke to someone else, You cursed the skies for this prejudice, For in that moment you wanted to be this someone, and not anyone else, And you wanted to rewrite the fate’s treatise, So that whenever she talked, she only talked to you, Whenever she passed by someone in the street, She first ogled at you, And felt the desire that you were the only one she wished to meet, But right now, she just passed by and I saw her walk away, Until she had reached far, and become a distant star, And now I only keep gazing at the sky every night and day, And I deal with the never ending inner war, Where she still peeps through all my memories, Where she still makes me believe what I saw, and felt in that moment was true, And it makes me feel like these helpless daisies, Who can do nothing, but just wait for the winter to pass and hope the sky will once again turn blue, So I am a flower that is rooted in its place and its faith, And I only grow in the field of her beauty, That is what my heart feels and that is what my mind always sayeth, For sometimes to love and to believe is the noblest duty! And I love her still although she is a star so distant, Rescued by my memories that form the only bridge, Between what I felt then, what I so long to feel now, ah it is a feeling so eminent, But I have to live with the star and its distance and volunteer myself for this daily emotional sacrilege! But then, living loving someone is a beautiful feeling, Maybe that is why daisies bloom every year, To witness the kiss of the summer, that magical thing, And for its sake bearing the pain of winter, seems nothing, every year, and every next year!

In the field of biology, “superbugs” evolve when a bacterium, fungus, or virus is put in a low-stakes setting where it can both thrive and test itself against a panoply of our best defenses (like antibiotics). Hospitals present one such setting in that they serve as gathering points for already-infected individuals (many of whom are immunocompromised, making them “easy mode” for viruses, fungi, and bacteria) and are packed with antivirals, antifungal, and antibiotic medications. . . . Our modern social landscape has created a similar environment, enabling cultural viruses to evolve. These viruses cannot survive and reproduce independently and must parasitize healthy cultural ecosystems, rewriting healthy cultures' internal machinery to carry out their life cycles.

The new puritans, then, are best understood as a clergy for a godless age, presiding over a dreamscape of their own making, rewriting our language, history and traditions as they go

The new puritans, then, are best understood as a clergy for a godless age, presiding over a dreamscape of their own making, rewriting our language, history and traditions as they go along.

It’s the best thing in the fucking world to know how fucking ready you are for me. I love the idea of your pussy already dripping with need for me, and I haven’t even tasted or touched you yet.

Maybe I thought that if I just collected enough words, I could totally rewrite myself one day. When I wasn’t collecting, I was reading Sweet Mallow over and over, lingering on passages that Duncan had liked best.

of a young girl rewriting her history. In the reality she constructed for herself nothing had been wrong before her brother fell off that pallet. I wish I had my best friend back, she wrote. Before his injury, I never got hurt at all. * My

Life has its own ways of teaching us, its being & it got its ups & downs but We hold the decisions to accept what Life throws at us & We're Life itself.Whatever we stand to change, gives us a life that was chosen.So whatever We choose to be or want, need or aspire; We're sure the benefactors of such Life & We got to be responsible for whatever comes with it.We got to sacrifice almost everything for the kind of life We want & need.We got to always understand that there're pains attached to it.We got to be bruised no matter what, wounded in other to be moulded & mounted on a larger milestone of a desired dream and life of goodness.So Wherever we find ourselves then, We don't quit or give excuses for not moving forward.We just have to embrace the results & stories and then Push On to Rewriting a Matchless story,With Resounding results.The truth is, We were Given this Life, to decide what's best for Us & in it lies death. Death is, not wanting to try but accepting that- It's Over.As a result of this, Possibility Neurons Die & guess what, Failure of self & being,Failure of will comes with it.We're the architects of Our lives, however We see it, Life runs in the directions of Our Choices.

When teams decide to automate a set of existing tests that were previously designed as manual tests, the best way forward is to rewrite and redesign the tests from scratch. Keep the purpose, but throw away pretty much everything else.

Sylvia Plath's achingly powerful The Bell Jar weaves her personal battle with depression into the tapestry of fiction. Ned Vizzini's best-selling It's Kind of a Funny Story was inspired by his own psychiatric hospitalization. The House on Mango Street, by Sandra Cisneros, contains

EBB: As I recall, “Cell Block Tango” was a very difficult number to write. It’s not so much a song as a musical scene for six women, and each has to tell her personal story in the course of a musical refrain that keeps repeating. It was difficult because each of the stories had to be entertaining and also meaningful. Each one had to be of a length that didn’t go on too long and run the risk of being boring. We kept rewriting and rewriting those stories that the women told to go with the refrain— He had it coming He had it coming He only had himself to blame. If you’d have been there If you’d have seen it I betcha would have done the same! KANDER: When Gwen was sick during Chicago, Liza took over for eight weeks and she came close to making the show a hit. EBB: She did all of Gwen’s blocking. KANDER: She learned that show in a week. EBB: I guess I should confess this. I had been with Liza in California, and when we were on our way back to New York on the plane, when I knew Liza was going to do Chicago, I was egging her on to get little things back into the show that I lost during my collaboration with Fosse. I desperately wanted “My Own Best Friend” to be a song just for Roxie. That was the way it was originally supposed to be done. But Bobby took that song and added Chita as Velma. He had them at the edge of the stage, obviously mocking the high-end cabaret singers with their phony Oh-look-at-me attitude. He hated songs like— KANDER: “I Did It My Way.” EBB: And “I Gotta Be Me.” He hated them.

I will write this story only once, for me, as a form of catharsis – my final attempt at closure. There will be no rewrites, no editors, and no sales strategy – even if I end up holding the only copy of the book ever printed. This story is the retelling of events that occurred three years ago, exactly as they happened and as best I can communicate them. Police reports and coroner’s inquests are not intended nor equipped to address evil. It is not taught in our schools nor recognised in our counselling – yet I walked with evil as it stalked the halls, the hearts and the classrooms of Hunter High on that Black Friday. Then I wasted three years trying to explain and analyse the evil away. Wasted lives, then wasted years -- but I can no longer allow the truth to remain buried with the dead, and the whole story must, finally, now be told.

Iron Man‘s success more than made up for that July’s Incredible Hulk. The result of Marvel’s most difficult production right up to the present, the second Hulk film starred Ed Norton, who proved a terrible fit for Maisel and Feige’s philosophy that studio executives should be the ultimate creative authority. Undeniably one of the best actors of his generation, Norton is also famous in Hollywood for being “difficult” and highly opinionated, refusing to allow artistic choices he disagrees with and seeking to rewrite scripts he doesn’t like, which is what he did on The Incredible Hulk. The clashes intensified in post-production, and the director, Louis Letterier, sided with Norton over the studio. They both learned who has the ultimate power at Marvel, though, when Feige took control of editing. He excised many of the darkest scenes, including a suicide attempt meant to portray how much the scientist Bruce Banner wants to rid himself of the curse of transforming into the Hulk when he’s mad. The resulting movie was still darker and more dramatic than any other Marvel Studios production and not different enough from the Hulk movie of 2003. It grossed only $263 million at the box office and barely broke even, the worst performance for any Marvel Studios film to date. The Incredible Hulk never got a sequel, but the character has returned in Avengers films, played by the easygoing Mark Ruffalo. The usually cheerful Feige stated that the decision to recast the role was “rooted in the need for an actor who embodies the creativity and collaborative spirit of our other talented cast members.

I am not sure what it is you are trying to get across with this would-be debut novel—but it is not for us here at ****. There is not enough story for us to take notice. The character, though compelling, does not support a moral value or something the reader can latch on to without feeling confused. In all honesty, he is quite the repulsive antihero. I suggest a rewrite, underlining the over-all message you are trying to convey. We may accept something more developed, but until then, here is the manuscript. With our apologies, and best of luck.

We also had the flip side of the expansion of powers: the warping of rights. In 1938, the infamous Footnote Four in the Carolene Products case bifurcated our rights such that certain rights are more equal than others in a kind of Animal Farm approach to the Constitution. So it’s the New Deal Court that politicized the Constitution, and thus also the confirmation process, by laying the foundation for judicial mischief of every stripe-- but particularly letting laws sail through that should be invalidated. The Warren Court picked up that baton by rewriting laws in areas that are best left to the political branches, micro-managing cultural disputes in a way that made the justices into philosopher kings, elevating and sharpening society’s ideological tensions.

MUTANT BLAZON My rapist’s eyes remind me of the sun. To look at them will mean that I go blind. His mouth beside my ear—they form a gun. Each breath: a bullet targeting my mind. My rapist’s eyes remind me of the sun. His throat: a fist to silence mine designed. His reason: a ventriloquist’s illusion. No tenor in the end could hearing find. My rapist’s eyes remind me of the sun— Too close for any vessel with a mind. Survive or get to die—that is the question. No longer have I any will to mind. My rapist’s eyes remind me of the sun— Not dead, not living, neither keen nor blind; A daily haunting; memory rebegun; Disaster in some future undivined. I write, rewrite, a “sonnet” about rape To hunt that voice I wish I could escape.

But Now, that next best of times, is long, and rewrites everything.

Best writing advice ___WRITE. Complete what you're writing. Edit/rewrite if you have a finished piece. No writing tip is going to help if you don't write.

Affirmations should always be stated as a positive. Affirm what you do want, not what you don’t want. Affirmations work best when they are short and very clear about a single desired goal. Take the time to write, rewrite, and polish your affirmation until you can express your desire in a short statement of precise and well-chosen words. Affirmations should be specific about the desired goal, but not about how to accomplish it. Your subconscious knows better than you what it can do and how it can do it. Do not make unreasonable time demands. Your subconscious can’t make anything happen “suddenly” or “now.” Just saying the words will have little effect. When you affirm your desire you must do it with such faith and conviction that your subconscious becomes convinced of how important it is to you. As you affirm your desire to yourself, visualize it in your mind’s eye as big as a billboard. Make it big, powerful, and memorable. Repetition of your emotionalized affirmation is crucial.

When is the next best time? Now.’ ” “Ah! Okay!” The smile turns real. Until today, he has never planted anything. But Now, that next best of times, is long, and rewrites everything.

Make a list of your key people and write down what you perceive as their primary value to the organization. Having done that, evaluate their job descriptions, asking yourself this question: “How can I free up more of their time to do the things that add the most value to this organization?” Encourage your staff to rewrite their current job descriptions with the goal of refocusing their time on the things they do best. Lead your key people through a discussion of the principles discussed in these three chapters. Create opportunities for your staff to discuss ways to better leverage their abilities.