Thank You For Assistance Quotes

To become a better you, remember to be grateful to people who have contributed to making you who you are today.

Oh, certainly, sir. Would you like me to accompany you?” “That won’t be necessary, Lieutenant, but thank you for the offer.” “I—s-sir,” he stammers. “Of course, it’s m-my pleasure, sir, to assist you—” Good God, I have taken leave of my senses. I never thank Delalieu. I’ve likely given the poor man a heart attack.

Will you accompany me in this dance?” he said, bowing and holding out his hand. “No, thank you.” Miri smiled. The prince frowned and looked and the chief delegate as if for assistance. Miri laughed self consciously. “I, uh, I was teasing.

thanks for saving me back there larten errmm thats mr crepsley to you - darren shan and larten creplsley - the vampires assistant

That an old Charonte custom that go back forever 'casue we a really old race of demons who go back even before forever." She looked over to where Danger's shade glittered in the opposite corner while the former Dark-Huntress was assisting Pam and Kim with the birth, and explained the custom to her. "When a new baby is born you kill off an old annoying family member who gets on everyone's nerves which for all of us would be the heifer-goddess 'cause the only person who like her be you Akra-Kat. I know she you mother and all, but sometimes you just gotta say no thank you. You a mean old heifer-goddess who need to go play in traffic and get run over by something big like a steamroller or bus or something else really painful that would hurt her a lot and make the rest of us laugh" "Not to mention the Simi barbecue would have been fun too if someone, Akra-Kat, hadn't stopped the Simi from it. I personally think it would have been a most magnificent gift for the baby. Barbecued heifer-goddess Artemis. Yum! No better meal. Oh then again baby got a delicate constitution and that might give the poor thing indigestion. Artemis definitely give the Simi indigestion and I ain't even ate her yet.

You," I surmised, and gestured round. "Thank you." "No," he denied. His pale hair floated out from beneath his cap in a halo as he shook his head. "But I assisted. Thank you for bathing. It makes my task of checking on you less onerous. I'm glad you're awake. You snore abominably." I let this comment pass. "You've grown." I observed. "Yes. So have you. And you've been sick. And you slept quite a long time. And now you're awake and bathed and fed. You still look terrible. But you no longer smell. It's late afternoon now. Are there any other obvious facts you'd like to review?

There was definitely something very weird about them, she decided. Aziraphale bowed again. “So glad to have been of assistance,” he said. “Thank you,” said Anathema, icily. “Can we get on?” said Crowley. “Goodnight, miss. Get in angel.” Ah. Well, that explained it. She had been perfectly safe after all.

Halt," said Will eventually, "can I ask you a question?" "I think you just did," Halt replied, with the faintest hint of a smile in his voice. It was an old formula between the two of them. Will grinned, then sighed and became serious. "Does life always get harder when you get older?" Page | 142 "You're not exactly ancient," Halt said gently. "But things have a way of turning out, you know. Just give them time." Will made a frustrated little gesture with his hands. "I know... it's just, I mean... oh, I don't know what I mean!" he finished. Halt eyed him carefully. "Pauline said to thank you for rescuing her assistant," he said. This time, he was sure he saw a reaction. So that was it. "I was glad to do it," Will replied eventually, his voice neutral. "I think I'll turn in. Good night, Halt." "Good night, son," Halt said. He chose the last word intentionally. He watched as the dim figure strode away toward the fire, seeing the shoulders straighten as he went. Sometimes, life threw up problems that even the wisest, most trusted mentor couldn't solve for you. It was part of the pain of growing up. And having to stand by and watch was part of the pain of being a mentor.

I've got an idea,' I said. 'I'll just turn up tomorrow morning and start having meetings until my brain turns to jelly. Then we'll stop and I'll hide for a bit, then do some more while thinking of other things, then forget it all by the evening, and we'll do pretty much the same thing again the day after that—and rely on subordinates and assistants to deal with actually running the place.' 'Thank goodness for that,' said Duffy with a sigh of relief. 'I was worried you had no experience of running a large public department.

None of us got to where we are alone. Whether the assistance we received was obvious or subtle, acknowledging that help is a very important part of understanding... and is also the importance of saying... THANK YOU.

Goodwill is something you put away like preserves, for a rainy day, for winter, for lean times, and it was moving to find that i had more than I had ever imagined. People gathered from all directions, and I was taken care of beautifully...Afterward...I occasionally wished that life was always like this, that I was always being showered with flowers and assistance and solicitousness, but you only get it when you need it. If you're lucky, you get it when you need it. To know that it was there when I needed it changed everything a little in the long run.

Pinner. "'Thank you very much,' said he; 'I fear that I underrated the difficulty of the task. This list will be of very material assistance to me.' "'It took some time,' said I.

You speak as if you envied him." "And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my envy." Emma could say no more. They seemed to be within half a sentence of Harriet, and her immediate feeling was to avert the subject, if possible. She made her plan; she would speak of something totally different—the children in Brunswick Square; and she only waited for breath to begin, when Mr. Knightley startled her, by saying, "You will not ask me what is the point of envy.—You are determined, I see, to have no curiosity.—You are wise—but I cannot be wise. Emma, I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the next moment." "Oh! then, don't speak it, don't speak it," she eagerly cried. "Take a little time, consider, do not commit yourself." "Thank you," said he, in an accent of deep mortification, and not another syllable followed. Emma could not bear to give him pain. He was wishing to confide in her—perhaps to consult her;—cost her what it would, she would listen. She might assist his resolution, or reconcile him to it; she might give just praise to Harriet, or, by representing to him his own independence, relieve him from that state of indecision, which must be more intolerable than any alternative to such a mind as his.—They had reached the house. "You are going in, I suppose?" said he. "No,"—replied Emma—quite confirmed by the depressed manner in which he still spoke—"I should like to take another turn. Mr. Perry is not gone." And, after proceeding a few steps, she added—"I stopped you ungraciously, just now, Mr. Knightley, and, I am afraid, gave you pain.—But if you have any wish to speak openly to me as a friend, or to ask my opinion of any thing that you may have in contemplation—as a friend, indeed, you may command me.—I will hear whatever you like. I will tell you exactly what I think." "As a friend!"—repeated Mr. Knightley.—"Emma, that I fear is a word—No, I have no wish—Stay, yes, why should I hesitate?—I have gone too far already for concealment.—Emma, I accept your offer—Extraordinary as it may seem, I accept it, and refer myself to you as a friend.—Tell me, then, have I no chance of ever succeeding?" He stopped in his earnestness to look the question, and the expression of his eyes overpowered her. "My dearest Emma," said he, "for dearest you will always be, whatever the event of this hour's conversation, my dearest, most beloved Emma—tell me at once. Say 'No,' if it is to be said."—She could really say nothing.—"You are silent," he cried, with great animation; "absolutely silent! at present I ask no more." Emma was almost ready to sink under the agitation of this moment. The dread of being awakened from the happiest dream, was perhaps the most prominent feeling. "I cannot make speeches, Emma:" he soon resumed; and in a tone of such sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably convincing.—"If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am.—You hear nothing but truth from me.—I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it.—Bear with the truths I would tell you now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne with them. The manner, perhaps, may have as little to recommend them. God knows, I have been a very indifferent lover.—But you understand me.—Yes, you see, you understand my feelings—and will return them if you can. At present, I ask only to hear, once to hear your voice.

So often," Jackaby said. "people think that when we arrive at a crossroads, we can choose only one path, but- as I have often and articulately postulated- people are stupid. We're not walking the path. We are the path. We are all of the roads and all of the intersections. Of course you can choose both." I blinked. "Also, if I hear any more nonsense about your allowing other people to decide where you're going in your own life, I will seriously reconsider your employment. You were hired for your mind, Miss Rook. I won't have an assistant incapable of thinking for herself." "Yes, sir," I said. "Thank you, sir.

It’s that time of the month again… As we head into those dog days of July, Mike would like to thank those who helped him get the toys he needs to enjoy his summer. Thanks to you, he bought a new bass boat, which we don’t need; a condo in Florida, where we don’t spend any time; and a $2,000 set of golf clubs…which he had been using as an alibi to cover the fact that he has been remorselessly banging his secretary, Beebee, for the last six months. Tragically, I didn’t suspect a thing. Right up until the moment Cherry Glick inadvertently delivered a lovely floral arrangement to our house, apparently intended to celebrate the anniversary of the first time Beebee provided Mike with her special brand of administrative support. Sadly, even after this damning evidence-and seeing Mike ram his tongue down Beebee’s throat-I didn’t quite grasp the depth of his deception. It took reading the contents of his secret e-mail account before I was convinced. I learned that cheap motel rooms have been christened. Office equipment has been sullied. And you should think twice before calling Mike’s work number during his lunch hour, because there’s a good chance that Beebee will be under his desk “assisting” him. I must confess that I was disappointed by Mike’s over-wrought prose, but I now understand why he insisted that I write this newsletter every month. I would say this is a case of those who can write, do; and those who can’t do Taxes. And since seeing is believing, I could have included a Hustler-ready pictorial layout of the photos of Mike’s work wife. However, I believe distributing these photos would be a felony. The camera work isn’t half-bad, though. It’s good to see that Mike has some skill in the bedroom, even if it’s just photography. And what does Beebee have to say for herself? Not Much. In fact, attempts to interview her for this issue were met with spaced-out indifference. I’ve had a hard time not blaming the conniving, store-bought-cleavage-baring Oompa Loompa-skinned adulteress for her part in the destruction of my marriage. But considering what she’s getting, Beebee has my sympathies. I blame Mike. I blame Mike for not honoring the vows he made to me. I blame Mike for not being strong enough to pass up the temptation of readily available extramarital sex. And I blame Mike for not being enough of a man to tell me he was having an affair, instead letting me find out via a misdirected floral delivery. I hope you have enjoyed this new digital version of the Terwilliger and Associates Newsletter. Next month’s newsletter will not be written by me as I will be divorcing Mike’s cheating ass. As soon as I press send on this e-mail, I’m hiring Sammy “the Shark” Shackleton. I don’t know why they call him “the Shark” but I did hear about a case where Sammy got a woman her soon-to-be ex-husband’s house, his car, his boat and his manhood in a mayonnaise jar. And one last thing, believe me when I say I will not be letting Mike off with “irreconcilable differences” in divorce court. Mike Terwilliger will own up to being the faithless, loveless, spineless, useless, dickless wonder he is.

Before she knew it the afternoon was done, and the trainees were taking their new mounts to the stables for grooming. Daine, Onua, Buri, and Sarge helped then too, though Daine couldn't see how she could ever be comfortable telling a twenty-year-old man he was missing spots on the pony he was grooming. She did try it: "Excuse me, trainee what did you say your name was?" Blue gray eyes twinkled at her over his cream-colored mare's back. "I didn't. It's Farant. " His blond hair curled thickly over his head, almost matching the pony's in color. "Thank you. Trainee Farant, you're missing spots. " "Not at all, sweetheart. I'm just combing too fast for you to see. " "Trainee Farant, you're missing spots!" Sarge boomed just behind Daine. She thought later she actually might have levitated at that moment certainly Farant had. Next time the assistant horsemistress tells you something, don't flirt correct it!" He moved on, and Daine pressed her hands against her burning cheeks. Farant leaned on his mare and sighed. "Yes, Assistant Horsemistress. Right away. " He winked at her and went back to work. Daine went to Sarge as the trainees were finishing up. "Sarge, I-" He shook his head. Daine thought if he leaned against the stable wall any harder, it would collapse. How did a human, without bear blood in him, get to be so large? "Not your fault. These city boys see you, you're young, sweet-lookin'",he winked at her,"they're gonna try to take advantage. If they can't keep their minds on the job after I've had them two weeks already in my patty-paws, then I ain't been doing my job right. " His grin was wolfish. "But that can be fixed. " Seeing her open mouthed stare, he asked, "Something the matter, my lamb?" She closed her jaw. "No, sir. I just never met nobody like you. " "And if you're lucky, you won't again, " muttered Buri, passing by.

So either this was a coincidence, or you have a traitor among the alphas.” Jim’s eyes flashed green. “There are no traitors on the Council.” I sighed. “Of course not—how dare the mighty shapeshifters have human vices.” Curran leaned half an inch forward. “We’re not mercenaries, Kate. Don’t measure us by your standard.” Thank you, Your Majesty. I looked at Jim. “The Order appreciates the offer of aid from the Pack, but given the sensitive nature of our investigation, we decline your assistance at this time.” Curran showed me the edge of his teeth. “Are you implying my people can’t be circumspect?” I looked at Jim. “Please relay my congratulations to His Majesty on learning such a big word all by himself.

I'm never going to get these folds just so," she remarked. "We'll practice that, too," Alec promised. She didn't start to blush until Father Murdock asked what else they were practicing. "Perhaps I could lend my expertise," he suggested eagerly. "A private matter," Jamie blurted out. "We can't use your assistance, Father, but we both thank you for offering." Alec's devilish smile widened.

Things I Used to Get Hit For: Talking back. Being smart. Acting stupid. Not listening. Not answering the first time. Not doing what I’m told. Not doing it the second time I’m told. Running, jumping, yelling, laughing, falling down, skipping stairs, lying in the snow, rolling in the grass, playing in the dirt, walking in mud, not wiping my feet, not taking my shoes off. Sliding down the banister, acting like a wild Indian in the hallway. Making a mess and leaving it. Pissing my pants, just a little. Peeing the bed, hardly at all. Sleeping with a butter knife under my pillow. Shitting the bed because I was sick and it just ran out of me, but still my fault because I’m old enough to know better. Saying shit instead of crap or poop or number two. Not knowing better. Knowing something and doing it wrong anyway. Lying. Not confessing the truth even when I don’t know it. Telling white lies, even little ones, because fibbing isn’t fooling and not the least bit funny. Laughing at anything that’s not funny, especially cripples and retards. Covering up my white lies with more lies, black lies. Not coming the exact second I’m called. Getting out of bed too early, sometimes before the birds, and turning on the TV, which is one reason the picture tube died. Wearing out the cheap plastic hole on the channel selector by turning it so fast it sounds like a machine gun. Playing flip-and-catch with the TV’s volume button then losing it down the hole next to the radiator pipe. Vomiting. Gagging like I’m going to vomit. Saying puke instead of vomit. Throwing up anyplace but in the toilet or in a designated throw-up bucket. Using scissors on my hair. Cutting Kelly’s doll’s hair really short. Pinching Kelly. Punching Kelly even though she kicked me first. Tickling her too hard. Taking food without asking. Eating sugar from the sugar bowl. Not sharing. Not remembering to say please and thank you. Mumbling like an idiot. Using the emergency flashlight to read a comic book in bed because batteries don’t grow on trees. Splashing in puddles, even the puddles I don’t see until it’s too late. Giving my mother’s good rhinestone earrings to the teacher for Valentine’s Day. Splashing in the bathtub and getting the floor wet. Using the good towels. Leaving the good towels on the floor, though sometimes they fall all by themselves. Eating crackers in bed. Staining my shirt, tearing the knee in my pants, ruining my good clothes. Not changing into old clothes that don’t fit the minute I get home. Wasting food. Not eating everything on my plate. Hiding lumpy mashed potatoes and butternut squash and rubbery string beans or any food I don’t like under the vinyl seat cushions Mom bought for the wooden kitchen chairs. Leaving the butter dish out in summer and ruining the tablecloth. Making bubbles in my milk. Using a straw like a pee shooter. Throwing tooth picks at my sister. Wasting toothpicks and glue making junky little things that no one wants. School papers. Notes from the teacher. Report cards. Whispering in church. Sleeping in church. Notes from the assistant principal. Being late for anything. Walking out of Woolworth’s eating a candy bar I didn’t pay for. Riding my bike in the street. Leaving my bike out in the rain. Getting my bike stolen while visiting Grandpa Rudy at the hospital because I didn’t put a lock on it. Not washing my feet. Spitting. Getting a nosebleed in church. Embarrassing my mother in any way, anywhere, anytime, especially in public. Being a jerk. Acting shy. Being impolite. Forgetting what good manners are for. Being alive in all the wrong places with all the wrong people at all the wrong times.

There was definitely something very weird about them, she decided. Aziraphale bowed again. “So glad to have been of assistance,” he said. “Thank you,” said Anathema, icily. “Can we get on?” said Crowley. “Goodnight, miss. Get

There was definitely something very weird about them, she decided. Aziraphale bowed again. “So glad to have been of assistance,” he said. “Thank you,” said Anathema, icily. “Can we get on?” said Crowley. “Goodnight, miss. Get

Welcome, praetor!” he said. “You need any giants’ faces smashed while you’re in town, just let me know.” “Thanks, Terminus,” Percy said. “I’ll keep that in mind.” “Yes, good. Your praetor’s cape is an inch too low on the left. There—that’s better. Where is my assistant? Julia!” The little girl ran out from behind the pedestal. She was wearing a green dress tonight, and her hair was still in pigtails. When she smiled, Percy saw that her front teeth were starting to come in. She held up a box full of party hats. Percy tried to decline, but Julia gave him the big adoring eyes. “Ah, sure,” he said. “I’ll take the blue crown.” She offered Hazel a gold pirate hat. “I’m gonna be Percy Jackson when I grow up,” she told Hazel solemnly. Hazel smiled and ruffled her hair. “That’s a good thing to be, Julia.” “Although,” Frank said, picking out a hat shaped like a polar bear’s head, “Frank Zhang would be good too.” “Frank!” Hazel said.

The next time you drive into a Walmart parking lot, pause for a second to note that this Walmart—like the more than five thousand other Walmarts across the country—costs taxpayers about $1 million in direct subsidies to the employees who don’t earn enough money to pay for an apartment, buy food, or get even the most basic health care for their children. In total, Walmart benefits from more than $7 billion in subsidies each year from taxpayers like you. Those “low, low prices” are made possible by low, low wages—and by the taxes you pay to keep those workers alive on their low, low pay. As I said earlier, I don’t think that anyone who works full-time should live in poverty. I also don’t think that bazillion-dollar companies like Walmart ought to funnel profits to shareholders while paying such low wages that taxpayers must pick up the ticket for their employees’ food, shelter, and medical care. I listen to right-wing loudmouths sound off about what an outrage welfare is and I think, “Yeah, it stinks that Walmart has been sucking up so much government assistance for so long.” But somehow I suspect that these guys aren’t talking about Walmart the Welfare Queen. Walmart isn’t alone. Every year, employers like retailers and fast-food outlets pay wages that are so low that the rest of America ponies up a collective $153 billion to subsidize their workers. That’s $153 billion every year. Anyone want to guess what we could do with that mountain of money? We could make every public college tuition-free and pay for preschool for every child—and still have tens of billions left over. We could almost double the amount we spend on services for veterans, such as disability, long-term care, and ending homelessness. We could double all federal research and development—everything: medical, scientific, engineering, climate science, behavioral health, chemistry, brain mapping, drug addiction, even defense research. Or we could more than double federal spending on transportation and water infrastructure—roads, bridges, airports, mass transit, dams and levees, water treatment plants, safe new water pipes. Yeah, the point I’m making is blindingly obvious. America could do a lot with the money taxpayers spend to keep afloat people who are working full-time but whose employers don’t pay a living wage. Of course, giant corporations know they have a sweet deal—and they plan to keep it, thank you very much. They have deployed armies of lobbyists and lawyers to fight off any efforts to give workers a chance to organize or fight for a higher wage. Giant corporations have used their mouthpiece, the national Chamber of Commerce, to oppose any increase in the minimum wage, calling it a “distraction” and a “cynical effort” to increase union membership. Lobbyists grow rich making sure that people like Gina don’t get paid more. The

My recommendation is to keep up the good work. I’m changing your title to senior executive assistant, and giving you a three percent raise effective next payday. Congratulations.” Wow, three percent. I could move up that early retirement plan to age seventy-five now, instead of eighty. Lucky me. Thank you,” I said. “That’s very generous.” You’re quite welcome.” Ms. Saunders nodded and grabbed a gold-plated letter opener to begin attacking her stack of mail. I turned to leave. Didn’t want to outstay my welcome. Damn it!” she exclaimed, and I turned back around. She winced and nodded at the letter opener that she’d dropped to her desktop. “Damn thing slipped. I’m probably going to need stitches now. Can you be a dear and fetch the first-aid kit for me?” She held her left index finger and frowned at the steady flow of blood oozing out. A few small drops of red splashed onto the other letters spread out on the desk. I felt woozy. And suddenly dizzy. I blinked. When I opened my eyes, I was no longer standing by the door about to leave. I was crouched down next to Ms. Saunders’s imported black leather chair, grasping her wrist tightly…… and sucking noisily on her fingertip. I shrieked and let go of her, staggering backward. I grabbed at her desk to keep from falling, but I dropped on my butt, anyhow, taking most of the contents of the top of her desk with me. She held her injured finger far away from her and stared at me, wide-eyed, with a mixture of shock and disgust. I scrambled to my feet and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. What in the holy hell just happened? I… I… uh… I’m so sorry,” I managed. “I don’t know what… I wouldn’t normally do something… I just…” Ms. Saunders pulled her hand close to her chest, perhaps to protect it from further abuse. Get out,” she said quietly. Yeah, I’ll get back to work. Again, I’m so, so sorry. Would you like me to bring you a cup of coffee?” No, not to your desk,” she said evenly, but her volume increased with every word. “Get out of here, you freak. I don’t care what you’ve heard, I’m not into women. You’re fired. Now get out of here before I call security.” But… my job review—” Get out!” she yelled.

I work either way, you see - assisted or unassisted - because that is what you must do in order to live a fully creative life. I work steadily, and I always thank the process. Whether I am touched by grace or not, I thank creativity for allowing me to engage with it at all.

In life if you decide to assist and render a helping hand other do not expect much from your recipients. Just do it for your own sake and never wait for them to come back and appreciate you. From ancient times it is known that only one out of ten will return or reciprocate the favor.

I didn’t call you here to bust my chops.” I clarified, “I need some advice.” He sarcastically replied, “Awesome. How may I assist the almighty Nik Strand?” “Fuck you,” I said with no heat. My brother knew how much his opinion mattered to me. He laughed, “No, thanks. I’m really not into that sort of thing. Besides, incest is illegal,” he pointed out. “Hardy

I will need no one is the resounding and self-affirming mantra of the narcissist, particularly for male narcissists. You owe me is more often the female narcissist’s recurring refrain. These underlying themes are, of course, completely outside of the narcissist’s awareness—an automatic tune that plays repeatedly in the background thanks to well-grooved memories. This intricate memory system is also where self-preserving well-worn masks that assist in coping reside.

A big white bag with a red star was passed over the console. “Thanks for coming in—my name’s Antoine, by the way. If you want to come back for shoes.” After shoving his former clothes inside, Xcor found himself bowing at the waist. “Your assistance has been much appreciated.” Antoine raised his palm like he was getting ready to do a clap on the shoulder again. But once more, he caught himself and smiled instead. “Knock her dead, my man.” “Oh, no.” Xcor shook his head. “That shan’t be necessary. This one I like.

Thank you, Master Gleeman. I would be happy to assist you." "Thom Merrilin," the gleeman said. They stared. "My name is Thom Merrilin, not Master Gleeman." He hitched the multihued cloak up on his shoulders, and abruptly his voice once more seemed to reverberate in a great hall. "Once a Court bard, I am now indeed risen to the exalted rank of Master Gleeman, yet my name is plain Thom Merrilin, and gleeman is the simple title in which I glory." And he swept a bow so elaborate with flourishes of his cloak that Mat clapped and Egwene murmured appreciatively.

Prayer to an Unseen Friend My special friend, thank you for listening to me. You know how hard I am trying to fulfill your faith in me. Thank You, also for the place in which I dwell. Let neither work nor play, no matter how satisfying or glorious, ever separate me for long from my precious family. Teach me how to play the game of life with fairness, courage, fortitude and confidence. Provide me with a few friends who understand me and yet remain my friends. Allow me a forgiving heart and a mind unafraid to travel though the trail may not be marked. Give me a sense of humor and a little leisure with nothing to do. Help me to strive for the highest legitimate reward of merit, ambition and opportunity, and yet never allow me to forget to extend a kindly, helping hand to others who need encouragement and assistance. Provide me with the strength to encounter whatever is to come, that I be brave in peril, constant in tribulation, temperate in anger and always prepared for any change of fortune. Enable me to give a smile instead of a frown, a kindly word instead of harshness and bitterness. Make me sympathetic to the grief of others, realizing that there are hidden woes in every life, no matter how exalted. Keep me forever serene in every activity of life, neither unduly boastful nor given to the more serious sin of self-depreciation. In sorrow, may my soul be uplifted, by the thought that if there were no shadow, there would be no sunshine. In failure, preserve my faith. In success, keep me humble. Steady me to do the full share of my work, and more, as well as I can, and when that is done, stop me, pay me what wages Thou wilt, and permit me to say, from a loving heart... A grateful Amen

here’s your change and receipt. You want a bag for your old stuff?” “Yes, please. Thank you.” A big white bag with a red star was passed over the console. “Thanks for coming in—my name’s Antoine, by the way. If you want to come back for shoes.” After shoving his former clothes inside, Xcor found himself bowing at the waist. “Your assistance has been much appreciated.” Antoine raised his palm like he was getting ready to do a clap on the shoulder again. But once more, he caught himself and smiled instead. “Knock her dead, my man.” “Oh, no.” Xcor shook his head. “That shan’t be necessary. This one I like.

Master of beauty, craftsman of the snowflake, inimitable contriver, endower of Earth so gorgeous & different from the boring Moon, thank you for such as it is my gift. I have made up a morning prayer to you containing with precision everything that most matters. ‘According to Thy will’ the thing begins. It took me off & on two days. It does not aim at eloquence. You have come to my rescue again & again in my impassable, sometimes despairing years. You have allowed my brilliant friends to destroy themselves and I am still here, severely damaged, but functioning. Unknowable, as I am unknown to my guinea pigs: how can I ‘love’ you? I only as far as gratitude & awe confidently & absolutely go. I have no idea whether we live again. It doesn’t seem likely from either the scientific or the philosophical point of view but certainly all things are possible to you, and I believe as fixedly in the Resurrection-appearances to Peter and to Paul as I believe I sit in this blue chair. Only that may have been a special case to establish their initiatory faith. Whatever your end may be, accept my amazement. May I stand until death forever at attention for any your least instruction or enlightenment. I even feel sure you will assist me again, Master of insight & beauty.

Your phone’s vibrating,” Scottie says. She takes my cell phone out of her pocket, the phone she has stolen from me to text her friend. She doesn’t even care that she has disobeyed. She doesn’t care that she said “finger-fucked” in front of me. It’s as though I’m not a father. I don’t recognize the number, so I don’t answer. I like to let people leave messages, and then I’ll call back after I rehearse what to say. “You never answer your phone,” Scottie says. “What if someone needs help?” “Then they can leave a message and I’ll call right back.” Alex takes the phone out of my hands. “Hello?” she says. “What the—? Do I not exist, girls? Do you realize I’m in charge here?” Scottie whispers, “Who is it?” “Oh, no,” Alex says. “This is the right number. This is his assistant…Sharon.” Scottie opens her mouth, delighted. I’ve always been impressed by Alex’s effortless ability to lie. “That sounds nice,” Alex says, then punches me lightly on the arm. “Where? Great. And for how long? Okay. Well, thanks. Maybe we’ll peek in on Sunday. Thanks so much. Okay.” She closes the phone. “Well?” “That was a Realtor, Dad, from Brian’s office. She says she’d be happy to show you the house you called about. Well done, Dad. Very clever.” “Good one, King,” Sid says. “What about Brian?” I ask. I feel strange talking about this with Joanie in the room. I position myself so that I face away from her.

There is a new trend among authors to thank every famous people for inspiration, non-existent assistance, and/or some casual reference to the author’s work. Authors do this to pump themselves up. So, on the off chance that this is helpful, I wish to thank the following people: the Prime Minister of India for promoting literacy; Dr APJ Abdul Kalam, who called me up one day and said, “Hey, you’re a good writer”; Kabir Das, who inspired me to write about love; Shahrukh Khan, who is an awesome actor; and last but not least, President of India, who once waved to me in New Delhi as the convoy moved from the streets to the Rashtrapati Bhavan Building, screwing up traffic for half an hour, thereby forcing me to kill time by thinking of a great plot to write this book.

Albert wrote to his ‘dearest cousin’ on 26 June to offer his 'sincerest felicitations on that great change which had taken place in your life’. It was a difficult letter to compose. Now that she was 'Queen of the mightiest land of Europe’, he went on, 'the happiness of millions’ lay in her hands, and he trusted that Heaven would assist her in 'that high but difficult task.” He hoped for a long and happy - and glorious - reign, in which she would achieve the 'thankfulness and love’ of her subjects. He wished neither to be indiscreet nor to 'abuse’ her time, but, he closed, 'May I pray you to think likewise sometimes of your cousins in Bonn, and to continue to them that kindness you favoured them with till now.’ And he signed it as 'your Majesty’s most obedient and faithful servant, Albert’.

You are a story fed by generations You carry songs of grief, triumph Loss and joy Feel their power as they ascend Within you As you walk, run swiftly, even fly Into infinite possibilities Let go that which burdens you Let go any acts of unkindness or brutality From or against you Let go that which has burdened your family Your community, your nation Or disturbed your soul Let go one breath into another Pray thankfulness for this Earth we are For this becoming we are For this sunlight touching skin we are For the cooling of the dark we are Listen now as Earth sheds her skin Listen as generations move One against the other to make power We are bringing in a new story We will be accompanied by ancient songs And will celebrate together Breathe this new dawn Assist it as it opens its mouth To sing.

I suppose you think I should be thanking you, for stepping up to assist in reviving me.' 'I have no illusions that the day you thank me for anything, Rhysand, is the day the burning fires of hell go cold.' 'Poetic.' A low snarl. Too easy. It was far too easy to bait him, rile him. And though I reminded myself of the wall, of the peace we needed, I said, 'You saved my mate's life on several occasions. I will always be thankful for that.' I knew the words found their mark. My mate. Low. It was a low blow. I had everything- everything I'd wished for, dreamed of, begged the stars to grant me. He had nothing. Had been given everything and squandered it. He didn't deserve my pity, my sympathy. No, Tamlin deserved what he'd brought upon himself, this husk of a life. He deserved every empty room, every snarl of thorns, every meal he had to hunt for himself.

Intelligent assistance involves leveraging artificial intelligence to enable the government, individual companies, and the nonprofit social sector to develop more sophisticated online and mobile platforms that can empower every worker to engage in lifelong learning on their own time, and to have their learning recognized and rewarded with advancement. Intelligent assistants arise when we use artificial intelligence to improve the interfaces between humans and their tools with software, so humans can not only learn faster but also act faster and act smarter. Lastly, we need to deploy AI to create more intelligent algorithms, or what Reid Hoffman calls “human networks”—so that we can much more efficiently connect people to all the job opportunities that exist, all the skills needed for each job, and all the educational opportunities to acquire those skills cheaply and easily.

Mrs. Indianapolis was in town again. She looked like a can of Sprite in her green and yellow outfit. She always likes to come down to the front desk just to chat. It was 4:04 am and thankfully I was awake and at the front desk when she got off the elevator and walked towards me. 
 “Good morning, Jacob,” she said.
 “My name is Jarod,” I replied.
 “When did you change your name?” “I was born Jarod, and I’ll probably die. Maybe.”
 “You must be new here. You look like a guy named Jacob that used to work at the front desk.”
 “Nope, I’m not new. And there’s no Jacob that’s worked the front desk, nor anybody who looks or looked like me. How can I assist you, Mrs. Indianapolis?”
 “I’d like to inform you that the pool is emitting a certain odor.”
 “What sort of odor?”
 “Bleach.”
 “Ah, that’s what we like to call chlorine. It’s the latest craze in the sanitation of public pools. Between you and me, though, I think it’s just a fad.”
 “Don’t get sassy with me, young man. I know what chlorine is. I expect a clean pool when I go swimming. But what I don’t expect is enough bleach to get the grass stain out of a shirt the size of Kentucky.”
 “That’s not our policy, ma’am. We only use about as much chlorine as it would take to remove a coffee stain the size of Seattle from a light gray shirt the size of Washington.” “Jerry, I don’t usually give advice to underlings, but I’m feeling charitable tonight. So I’ll tell you that if you want to get ahead in life, you have to know when to talk and when not to talk. And for a guy like you, it’d be a good idea if you decided not to talk all the time. Or even better, not to talk at all.”
 “Some people say some people talk too much, and some people, the second some people, say the first some people talk to much and think too little. Who is first and who is second in this case? Well, the customer—that’s you, lady—always comes first.”
 “There you go again with the talking. I’d rather talk to a robot than to you.”
 “If you’d rather talk to a robot, why don’t you just find your husband? He’s got all the personality and charm of a circuit board. Forgive me, I didn’t mean that.”
 “I should hope not!”
 “What I meant to say was fried circuit board. It’d be quite absurd to equate your husband’s banter to a functioning circuit board.”
 “I’m going to have a talk to your manager about your poor guest service.”
 “Go ahead. Tell him that Jerry was rude and see what he says. And by the way, the laundry room is off limits when no lifeguard is on duty.

He stared down at her for a moment, wanting to heal every cut on her soft skin. But he couldn’t, not yet. He needed to get her, and her car, far from this place so neither he nor Kate would be implicated in any way with the gruesome murder site. It also meant he would have to drive. In all his years, he had never driven an automobile. The closest he had come was watching various assistants through the years as they chauffeured him. He wasn’t sure he could even remember how to start the car, but right now he had no choice. Grudgingly, he got into the driver’s seat, and finding the lever underneath, he pushed it back so he sat comfortably behind the wheel. After trying three different keys, he found one that slipped into the ignition. From what he had seen over the past hundred years, driving was not a complex operation, and he was an immortal with reflexes far more keen than a human man. How difficult could it be? He turned the key and nearly jerked the wheel off the steering column when the car surprised him by lurching forward. The car went silent. The engine wasn’t running. What was he doing wrong? He stared at the gearshift, wondering if he should move it. His frustration reared up, but his agitation would not make the car drive itself. He had to keep a cool head. Not knowing what else to try, he pushed one of the pedals at his feet to the floor and turned the key again. This time the car didn’t move, and it roared to life. Grasping the gearshift, he jammed it into the first position and glanced over at Kate. Why couldn’t she have owned a car with an automatic transmission? Shaking his head, he put some pressure on the gas pedal and slowly released the clutch. Thankfully the car rolled a few feet, but without warning it jumped forward. He pressed the clutch back to the floor before the engine lost power again. Calisto slammed his hand against the wheel, muttering under his breath in Spanish. At this rate it would take him all night to drive her home. The faded yellow convertible pitched forward again, threatening to stall as he continued out of the parking lot, thankful it was late. The streets were fairly empty. At least he wouldn’t get into an accident with another car. Her car staggered ahead, lurching each time he tried to release the clutch, bouncing and jostling them both until Kate finally stirred and woke up. § “Are we out of gas or something?” Calisto watched her with a tight smile. “Not exactly.” Kate winced in pain when she laughed. “You can’t drive a stickshift, can you?” “Does it show?” Calisto pulled over, finally allowing the engine to stall. She nodded her head slowly to avoid more pain. “Just a little. What happened?” “You don’t remember?” “I remember being mugged. And I remember seeing you, but everything after that is blank.” She watched his eyes as Calisto reached over to brush her hair back from her face, and his touch sent shivers through her body. This wasn’t how she had hoped she would run into him, but she learned a long time ago fate didn’t always work out the way you expected.

Yes,” her boss responded, “one for us and one for the customer.” “I’m sorry, so you are saying that the client is asking for a copy and we need a copy for internal use?” “Actually, I’ll check with the client—they haven’t asked for anything. But I definitely want a copy. That’s just how I do business.” “Absolutely,” she responded. “Thanks for checking with the customer. Where would you like to store the in-house copy? There’s no more space in the file room here.” “It’s fine. You can store it anywhere,” he said, slightly perturbed now. “Anywhere?” she mirrored again, with calm concern. When another person’s tone of voice or body language is inconsistent with his words, a good mirror can be particularly useful. In this case, it caused her boss to take a nice, long pause—something he did not often do. My student sat silent. “As a matter of fact, you can put them in my office,” he said, with more composure than he’d had the whole conversation. “I’ll get the new assistant to print it for me after the project is done. For now, just create two digital backups.” A day later her boss emailed and wrote simply, “The two digital backups will be fine.” Not long after, I received an ecstatic email from this student: “I was shocked! I love mirrors! A week of work avoided!” Mirroring will make you feel awkward as heck when you first try it. That’s the only hard part about it; the technique takes a little practice. Once you get the hang of it, though, it’ll become a conversational Swiss Army knife valuable in just about every professional and social setting.

Will you go?” Maelyn asked. “Not a chance,” said Briette. “ ‘I shall eagerly await your reply and I wish you health and wealth. Your affectionate friend, “ ‘The Duchess of Merridell’ ” Heidel snorted. “Duchess of Mudsuckers.” “Wait, she wrote an additional note at the bottom,” said Briette. “ ‘I nearly forgot! I must also thank you for assisting with the birth of my beautiful daughter. She is strong and healthy, thank our Good Sire above. I remember you were curious about the name and at long last I have chosen it! Her name is Roselle.’ ” Briette stopped. “Is that it?” said Heidel. Briette stared at the name. She covered her mouth with her fingers and began to blink rapidly. “What’s the matter?” said Maelyn. Briette stood, the parchment falling to her feet. “I uh, I have to go upstairs.” “What is it, Briette?” Heidel asked. “I’m sorry. Please excuse me.” Briette cut between the armchairs and managed to get out without stumbling. She passed through the corridors and climbed the stairs, holding the wall as she went. Her thoughts spun, her heart staggered. Now she knew what had been in the basket. Miss Gerda would have told her. Briette was sure of it. I’m afraid there is more, she had said. But the poor woman had not been given the chance. And the dream! The dream in which her own reflection reached out and pulled her hair. It was a memory. Her mind had fabricated a mirror to make sense of the dream but no mirror had ever been there. The face she had seen was not her own, though it matched in every way. It had belonged to another child. Her name was Roselle. Briette entered her chamber, shut the door, and slid down in front of it. She covered her face and wept a blend of joy and sorrow. “I have a twin.” *

WE’RE GOOD AT WRONG SPOTTING If you’ve ever received feedback at work—or had an in-law—you are familiar with the many shapes and sizes of wrong: It’s 2 + 2 = 5 wrong: It is literally incorrect. I could not have been rude at that meeting because I was not at that meeting. And my name is not Mike. It’s different-planet wrong: Somewhere in the universe there may exist a carbon-based life form that would have taken offense at my e-mail, but here on Earth everyone knows it was a joke. It used to be right: Your critique of my marketing plan is based on how marketing worked when you were coming up. Before the Internet. And electricity. It’s right according to the wrong people: Some see me that way, but next time, talk to at least one person who is not on my Personal Enemies List. Your context is wrong: I do yell at my assistant. And he yells at me. That’s how our relationship works—key word being “works.” It’s right for you, but wrong for me: We have different body types. Armani suits flatter you. Hoodies flatter me. The feedback is right, but not right now: It’s true that I could lose a few pounds—which I will do as soon as the quintuplets are out of the house. Anyway, it’s unhelpful: Telling me to be a better mentor isn’t helping me to be a better mentor. What kind of mentor are you anyway? Why is wrong spotting so easy? Because there’s almost always something wrong—something the feedback giver is overlooking, shortchanging, or misunderstanding. About you, about the situation, about the constraints you’re under. And givers compound the problem by delivering feedback that is vague, making it easy for us to overlook, shortchange, and misunderstand what they are saying. But in the end, wrong spotting not only defeats wrong feedback, it defeats learning.

Anarchists and antiauthoritarians clearly differentiate between charity and solidarity--especially thanks to working with indigenous solidarity movements and other international solidarity movements--based on the principles of affinity and mutual aid. Affinity is just what it sounds like: that you can work most easily with people who share your goals, and that your work will be strongest when your relationships are based on trust, friendship, and love. Mutual aid is the idea that we all have a stake in one another's liberation, and that when we can act from that interdependence, we can share with one another as equals. Charity, however, is something that is given not only because it feels like there is an excess to share but also because it is based in a framework that implies that others inherently need the help--that they are unable to take care of themselves and that they would suffer without it. Charity is patronizing and selfish. It establishes some people as those who assist and others as those who need assistance, stabilizing oppressive paradigms by solidifying people's positions in them. Autonomy and self-determination are essential to making this distinction as well. Recognizing the autonomy and self-determination of individuals and groups acknowledges their capability. It's an understanding of that group as having something of worth to be gained through interactions with them, whether that thing is a material good or something less tangible, like perspective, joy, or inspiration. The solidarity model dispels the idea of one inside and one outside, foregrounding how individuals belong to multiple groups and how groups overlap with one another, while simultaneously demanding respect for the identity of self-sufficientcy of each of those groups. Original Zine: Ain't no PC Gonna Fix it, Baby. 2013. Featured in: A Critique of Ally Politics. Taking Sides.

-1 PETER 5:3 Over and over I have attempted to be an example by doing rather than telling. I feel that God's great truths are "caught" and not always "taught." In the book of Deuteronomy, Moses (the author) says the following about God's commandments, statutes, and judgments: "You shall teach them diligently to your sons and shall talk of them when you sit in your house and when you walk by the way and when you lie down and when you rise up" (6:7). In other words, at all times we are to be examples. It is amazing how much we can teach by example in every situation: at home, at the beach, while jogging, when resting, when eating-in every part of the day. It's amazing how often I catch our children and grandchildren imitating the values we exhibited in our home-something as little as a lighted candle to warm the heart, to a thank you when food is being served in a restaurant. Little eyes are peering around to see how we behave when we think no one is looking. Are we consistent with what we say we believe? If we talk calmness and patience, how do we respond when standing in a slow line at the market? How does our conversation go when there is a slowdown on Friday evening's freeway drive? Do we go by the rules on the freeway (having two people or more in the car while driving in the carpool lane, going the speed limit, and obeying all traffic signs)? How can we show God's love? By helping people out when they are in need of assistance, even when it is not convenient. We can be good neighbors. Sending out thank you cards after receiving a gift shows our appreciation for the gift and the person. Being kind to animals and the environment when we go to the park for a campout or picnic shows good stewardship. We are continually setting some kind of example whether we know it or not. PRAYER Father God, let my life be an example to those around me, especially the little ones who are learning the ways of faith. May I exhibit proper conduct even when no one is around. I want to be obedient to Your guiding principles. Thank You for Your example. Amen.

As time passed, I learned more and more about the culture that comes with beign an injured veteran. There are a lot of really wonderful people and organizations to help veterans returning from war. Right about the time I started to really move forward in my recovery, two women came by and introduced themselves. They explained that they raise money to help injured veterans with various needs. They asked if there was anything I or my family needed. I said, “No thank you, I’m all good.” But my sisters piped up and said, “He needs clothes. He doesn’t have anything.” The women smiled and said they’d be back. They came back with some sweatpants and a shirt and then announced that they were taking us to the mall. This would be my first time leaving the campus of Walter Reed, my first real trip out of the hospital. We were all excited. Leaving the hospital was a big step for me but my poor sisters had been cooped up much of the time with me in there as well. I was a little nervous, but I owed it to them to push aside my anxiety. We decided that the electric wheelchair would be too heavy and too much trouble to get in and out of the car, so Jennifer wheeled me down to the front door where the ladies were waiting in their car. With very little assistance, Jennifer was able to get me for that chair into the car and we were off to the mall. When we arrived, my sisters pulled the wheelchair out of the trunk and placed it next to the car door. They opened the door and Jennifer leaned down and with one swift motion lifted me up like a nearly weightless child and placed me in the chair. I laughed it off. “My sister’s strong. She’s really strong,” I boasted on her behalf. Sara, Katherine, and Jennifer were laughing the whole time because I didn’t realize how scrawny I was, how much weight I had lost. Jennifer could pick me up with no problem because I practically weighed nothing at all. But through the laughter, I felt a pang of guilt. I am the brother of three sisters. It was my job to protect and care for them. Yet here I was, barely able to take care of myself.

Why reinvent the light bulb Did you have a problem with the burning light? Thanks to Thomas Edison’s effort, we don’t need to invent a flashlight, we just go to the store or our closet and pull one out and fuck in. I’m sure you realize that Thomas Edison took many attempts before the lamp was mastered by someone who once asked him if he discouraged his failure and said, “Cut, I haven’t failed yet, I’ve discovered another way not to make a light lamp. You see, there’s nothing like failure, there’s just results. Someone once said that defining madness is doing something over and over and getting the same results. To do our lives right, we have to change the things we do. Just like light can burn, so we can. Life can become dark and depressed and we feel no light, no hope of sight. This picture is certainly not clear. Let me highlight this situation (intentional). When we feel down and deep in the hole, that’s when we need light to see our way through. Some of us are lucky enough to have some light on our hands, others have to come out and get it back. Many people try to invent light for themselves by thinking about positive ideas, but so far it takes them. It just gives a lot of light and there’s more light available, but people at a secondary level are about how to get it. We must not be like Thomas Edison, continue to look at the problem and think of ways to solve it. For every problem, there’s a solution. How do we find a solution? We can try, as we have said, to try to figure it out ourselves, or we can find someone who has already crossed this obstacle and do what they did. There are many books on the market today that can help us understand how to overcome obstacles in our lives. We have to read and learn from the failure of others, they’ve been through it before, and they can help teach us how to go through it. We all need more light in our lives and sometimes we can’t see light at the end of the tunnel, but there’s always hope and assistance. You know how others overcome their challenges and keep this education in you even when you feel weak and life seems bad. Don’t try to reinvent the light lamp. Learn how to carry light in yourself.

Cultivating loyalty is a tricky business. It requires maintaining a rigorous level of consistency while constantly adding newness and a little surprise—freshening the guest experience without changing its core identity.” Lifetime Network Value Concerns about brand fickleness in the new generation of customers can be troubling partly because the idea of lifetime customer value has been such a cornerstone of business for so long. But while you’re fretting over the occasional straying of a customer due to how easy it is to switch brands today, don’t overlook a more important positive change in today’s landscape: the extent to which social media and Internet reviews have amplified the reach of customers’ word-of-mouth. Never before have customers enjoyed such powerful platforms to share and broadcast their opinions of products and services. This is true today of every generation—even some Silent Generation customers share on Facebook and post reviews on TripAdvisor and Amazon. But millennials, thanks to their lifetime of technology use and their growing buying power, perhaps make the best, most active spokespeople a company can have. Boston Consulting Group, with grand understatement, says that “the vast majority” of millennials report socially sharing and promoting their brand preferences. Millennials are talking about your business when they’re considering making a purchase, awaiting assistance, trying something on, paying for it and when they get home. If, for example, you own a restaurant, the value of a single guest today goes further than the amount of the check. The added value comes from a process that Chef O’Connell calls competitive dining, the phenomenon of guests “comparing and rating dishes, photographing everything they eat, and tweeting and emailing the details of all their dining adventures.” It’s easy to underestimate the commercial power that today’s younger customers have, particularly when the network value of these buyers doesn’t immediately translate into sales. Be careful not to sell their potential short and let that assumption drive you headlong into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Remember that younger customers are experimenting right now as they begin to form preferences they may keep for a lifetime. And whether their proverbial Winstons will taste good to them in the future depends on what they taste like presently.

In a Harvard Business Review article titled “Do Women Lack Ambition?” Anna Fels, a psychiatrist at Cornell University, observes that when the dozens of successful women she interviewed told their own stories, “they refused to claim a central, purposeful place.” Were Dr. Fels to interview you, how would you tell your story? Are you using language that suggests you’re the supporting actress in your own life? For instance, when someone offers words of appreciation about a dinner you’ve prepared, a class you’ve taught, or an event you organized and brilliantly executed, do you gracefully reply “Thank you” or do you say, “It was nothing”? As Fels tried to understand why women refuse to be the heroes of their own stories, she encountered the Bem Sex-Role Inventory, which confirms that society considers a woman to be feminine only within the context of a relationship and when she is giving something to someone. It’s no wonder that a “feminine” woman finds it difficult to get in the game and demand support to pursue her goals. It also explains why she feels selfish when she doesn’t subordinate her needs to others. A successful female CEO recently needed my help. It was mostly business-related but also partly for her. As she started to ask for my assistance, I sensed how difficult it was for her. Advocate on her organization’s behalf? Piece of cake. That’s one of the reasons her business has been successful. But advocate on her own behalf? I’ll confess that even among my closest friends I find it painful to say, “Look what I did,” and so I don’t do it very often. If you want to see just how masterful most women have become at deflecting, the next time you’re with a group of girlfriends, ask them about something they (not their husband or children) have done well in the past year. Chances are good that each woman will quickly and deftly redirect the conversation far, far away from herself. “A key type of discrimination that women face is the expectation that feminine women will forfeit opportunities for recognition,” says Fels. “When women do speak as much as men in a work situation or compete for high-visibility positions, their femininity is assailed.” My point here isn’t to say that relatedness and nurturing and picking up our pom-poms to cheer others on is unimportant. Those qualities are often innate to women. If we set these “feminine” qualities aside or neglect them, we will have lost an irreplaceable piece of ourselves. But to truly grow up, we must learn to throw down our pom-poms, believing we can act and that what we have to offer is a valuable part of who we are. When we recognize this, we give ourselves permission to dream and to encourage the girls and women

One morning, a farmer knocked loudly on the door of a monastery. When Brother Porter opened the door, the farmer held out to him a magnificent bunch of grapes. “Dear Brother Porter, these are the finest grapes from my vineyard. Please accept them as a gift from me.” “Why, thank you! I’ll take them straight to the Abbot, who will be thrilled with such a gift.” “No, no. I brought them for you.” “For me? But I don’t deserve such a beautiful gift from nature.” “Whenever I knocked on the door, you opened it. When the harvest had been ruined by drought, you gave me a piece of bread and a glass of wine every day. I want this bunch of grapes to bring you a little of the sun’s love, the rain’s beauty and God’s miraculous power.” Brother Porter put the grapes down where he could see them and spent the whole morning admiring them: they really were lovely. Because of this, he decided to give the present to the Abbot, whose words of wisdom had always been such a boon to him. The Abbot was very pleased with the grapes, but then he remembered that one of the other monks was ill and thought: “I’ll give him the grapes. Who knows, they might bring a little joy into his life.” But the grapes did not remain for very long in the room of the ailing monk, for he in turn thought: “Brother Cook has taken such good care of me, giving me only the very best food to eat. I’m sure these grapes will bring him great happiness.” And when Brother Cook brought him his lunch, the monk gave him the grapes. “These are for you. You are in close touch with the gifts Nature gives us and will know what to do with this, God’s produce.” Brother Cook was amazed at the beauty of the grapes and drew his assistant’s attention to their perfection. They were so perfect that no one could possibly appreciate them more than Brother Sacristan, who had charge of the Holy Sacrament, and whom many in the monastery considered to be a truly saintly man. Brother Sacristan, in turn, gave the grapes to the youngest of the novices in order to help him understand that God’s work is to be found in the smallest details of the Creation. When the novice received them, his heart was filled with the Glory of God, because he had never before seen such a beautiful bunch of grapes. At the same time, he remembered the day he had arrived at the monastery and the person who had opened the door to him; that gesture of opening the door had allowed him to be there now in that community of people who knew the value of miracles. Shortly before dark, he took the bunch of grapes to Brother Porter. “Eat and enjoy. You spend most of your time here all alone, and these grapes will do you good.” Brother Porter understood then that the gift really was intended for him; he savoured every grape and went to sleep a happy man. In this way, the circle was closed; the circle of happiness and joy which always wraps around those who are in contact with the energy of love.

You’re going to do great,” Lizzy said as they reached the mini Tiki bar. The air was cool in the high fifties and the scent of various meats on the grill filled the air. Even though they’d had the party catered, apparently Grant had insisted on grilling some things himself. “I wouldn’t have recommended you apply for it otherwise.” Athena ducked behind the bar and grinned at the array of bottles and other garnishes. She’d been friends with Lizzy the past couple months and knew her friend’s tastes by now. As she started mixing up their drinks she said, “If I fail, hopefully they won’t blame you.” Lizzy just snorted but eyed the drink mix curiously. “Purple?” “Just wait. You’ll like it.” She rolled the rims of the martini glasses in sugar as she spoke. “Where’d you learn to do this?” “I bartended a little in college and there were a few occasions on the job where I had to assist because staff called out sick for an event.” There’d been a huge festival in Madrid she’d helped out with a year ago where three of the staff had gotten food poisoning, so in addition to everything else she’d been in charge of, she’d had to help with drinks on and off. That had been such a chaotic, ridiculous job. “At least you’ll have something to fall back on if you do fail,” Lizzy teased. “I seriously hope not.” She set the two glasses on the bar and strained the purple concoction into them. With the twinkle lights strung up around the lanai and the ones glittering in the pool, the sugar seemed to sparkle around the rim. “This is called a wildcat.” “You have to make me one of those too!” The unfamiliar female voice made Athena look up. Her eyes widened as her gaze locked with Quinn freaking Brody, the too-sexy-man with an aversion to virgins. He was with the tall woman who’d just asked Athena to make a drink. But she had eyes only for Quinn. Her heart about jumped out of her chest. What was he doing here of all places? At least he looked just as surprised to see her. She ignored him because she knew if she stared into those dark eyes she’d lose the ability to speak and then she’d inevitably embarrass herself. The tall, built-like-a-goddess woman with pale blonde hair he was with smiled widely at Athena. “Only if you don’t mind,” she continued, nodding at the drinks. “They look so good.” “Ah, you can have this one. I made an extra for the lush here.” She tilted her head at Lizzy with a half-smile. Athena had planned to drink the second one herself but didn’t trust her hands not to shake if she made another. She couldn’t believe Quinn was standing right in front of her, looking all casual and annoyingly sexy in dark jeans and a long-sleeved sweater shoved up to his elbows. Why did his forearms have to look so good? “Ha, ha.” Lizzy snagged her drink as Athena stepped out from behind the bar. “Athena, this is Quinn Brody and Dominique Castle. They both work for Red Stone but Dominique is almost as new as you.” Forcing a smile on her face, Athena nodded politely at both of them—and tried to ignore the way Quinn was staring at her. She’d had no freaking idea he worked for Red Stone. He looked a bit like a hungry wolf. Just like on their last date—two months ago. When he’d decided she was too much trouble, being a virgin and all. Jackass. “It’s so nice to meet you both.” She did a mental fist pump when her voice sounded normal. “I promised Belle I’d help out inside but I hope to see you both around tonight.” Liar, liar. “Me too. Thanks again for the drink,” Dominique said cheerfully while Lizzy just gave Athena a strange look. Athena wasn’t sure what Quinn’s expression was because she’d decided to do the mature thing—and studiously ignore him.

O happy age, which our first parents called the age of gold! Not because of gold, so much adored in this iron age, was then easily purchased, but because those two fatal words mine and thine, were distinctions unknown to the people of those fortunate times; for all things were in common in that holy age: men, for their sustenance, needed only lift their hands and take it from the sturdy oak, whose spreading arms liberally invited them to gather the wholesome savoury fruit; while the clear springs, and silver rivulets, with luxuriant plenty, ordered them their pure refreshing water. In hollow trees, and in the clefts of rocks, the laboring and industrious bees erected their little commonwealths, that men might reap with pleasure and with ease the the sweet and fertile harvest of their toils. The tough and strenuous cork-trees did of themselves, and without other art than their native liberality, dismiss and impart their broad light bark, which served to cover these lowly huts, propped up with rough-hewn stakes, that were first built as a shelter against the inclemencies of air. All then was union, all peace, all love and friendship in the world; as yet no rude plough-share with violence to pry into the pious bowels of our mother earth, for she, without compulsion, kindly yielded from every part of her fruitful and spacious bosom, whatever might at once satisfy, sustain, and indulge her frugal children. Then was the when innocent, beautiful young sheperdesses went tripping over the hills and vales; their lovely hairs sometimes plaited, sometimes loose and flowing, clad in no other vestment but what was necessary to cover decently what modesty would always have concealed. The Tyrian dye and the rich glossy hue of silk, martyred and dissembled into every color, which are now esteemed so fine and magnificent, were unknown to the innocent plainness of that age; arrayed in the most magnificent garbs, and all the most sumptous adornings which idleness and luxury have taught succeeding pride: lovers then expressed the passion of their souls in the unaffected language of the heart, with the native plainness and sincerity in which they were conceived, and divested of all that artificial contexture, which enervates what it labours to enforce: imposture, deceit and malice had not yet crept in and imposed themselves unbribed upon mankind in the disguise of truth and simplicity: justice, unbiased either by favour or interest, which now so fatally pervert it, was equally and impartially dispensed; nor was the judge's fancy law, for then there were neither judges nor causes to be judged: the modest maid might walk wherever she pleased alone, free from the attacks of lewd, lascivious importuners. But, in this degenerate age, fraud and a legion of ills infecting the world, no virtue can be safe, no honour be secure; while wanton desires, diffused into the hearts of men, corrupt the strictest watches, and the closest retreats; which, though as intricate and unknown as the labyrinth of Crete, are no security for chastity. Thus that primitive innocence being vanished, the opression daily prevailing, there was a necessity to oppose the torrent of violence: for which reason the order of knight-hood-errant was instituted to defend the honour of virgins, protect widows, relieve orphans, and assist all the distressed in general. Now I myself am one of this order, honest friends; and though all people are obliged by the law of nature to be kind to persons of my order; yet, since you, without knowing anything of this obligation, have so generously entertained me, I ought to pay you my utmost acknowledgment; and, accordingly, return you my most hearty thanks for the same.

joke around—nothing serious—as I work to get my leg back to where it was. Two weeks later, I’m in an ankle-to-hip leg brace and hobbling around on crutches. The brace can’t come off for another six weeks, so my parents lend me their townhouse in New York City and Lucien hires me an assistant to help me out around the house. Some guy named Trevor. He’s okay, but I don’t give him much to do. I want to regain my independence as fast as I can and get back out there for Planet X. Yuri, my editor, is griping that he needs me back and I’m more than happy to oblige. But I still need to recuperate, and I’m bored as hell cooped up in the townhouse. Some buddies of mine from PX stop by and we head out to a brunch place on Amsterdam Street my assistant sometimes orders from. Deacon, Logan, Polly, Jonesy and I take a table in Annabelle’s Bistro, and settle in for a good two hours, running our waitress ragged. She’s a cute little brunette doing her best to stay cheerful for us while we give her a hard time with endless coffee refills, loud laughter, swearing, and general obnoxiousness. Her nametag says Charlotte, and Deacon calls her “Sweet Charlotte” and ogles and teases her, sometimes inappropriately. She has pretty eyes, I muse, but otherwise pay her no mind. I have my leg up on a chair in the corner, leaning back, as if I haven’t a care in the world. And I don’t. I’m going to make a full recovery and pick up my life right where I left off. Finally, a manager with a severe hairdo and too much makeup, politely, yet pointedly, inquires if there’s anything else we need, and we take the hint. We gather our shit and Deacon picks up the tab. We file out, through the maze of tables, and I’m last, hobbling slowly on crutches. I’m halfway out when I realize I left my Yankees baseball cap on the table. I return to get it and find the waitress staring at the check with tears in her eyes. She snaps the black leather book shut when she sees me and hurriedly turns away. “Forget something?” she asks with false cheer and a shaky smile. “My hat,” I say. She’s short and I’m tall. I tower over her. “Did Deacon leave a shitty tip? He does that.” “Oh no, no, I mean…it’s fine,” she says, turning away to wipe her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I just…um, kind of a rough month. You know how it is.” She glances me up and down in my expensive jeans and designer shirt. “Or maybe you don’t.” The waitress realizes what she said, and another round of apologies bursts out of her as she begins stacking our dirty dishes. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Really. I have this bad habit…blurting. I don’t know why I said that. Anyway, um…” I laugh, and fish into my back pocket for my wallet. “Don’t worry about it. And take this. For your trouble.” I offer her forty dollars and her eyes widen. Up close, her eyes are even prettier—large and luminous, but sad too. A blush turns her skin scarlet “Oh, no, I couldn’t. No, please. It’s fine, really.” She bustles even faster now, not looking at me. I shrug and drop the twenties on the table. “I hope your month improves.” She stops and stares at the money, at war with herself. “Okay. Thank you,” she says finally, her voice cracking. She takes the money and stuffs it into her apron. I feel sorta bad, poor girl. “Have a nice day, Charlotte,” I say, and start to hobble away. She calls after me, “I hope your leg gets better soon.” That was big of her, considering what ginormous bastards we’d been to her all morning. Or maybe she’s just doing her job. I wave a hand to her without looking back, and leave Annabelle’s. Time heals me. I go back to work. To Planet X. To the world and all its thrills and beauty. I don’t go back to my parents’ townhouse; hell I’m hardly in NYC anymore. I don’t go back to Annabelle’s and I never see—or think about—that cute waitress with the sad eyes ever again. “Fucking hell,” I whisper as the machine reads the last line of

approach the tunnel." "Thank you, Captain. I'd volunteer to join you, but our suits don't have an extended EVA capability. What can we do to assist?" "I've been thinking about that. They haven't fired at us in a while,

Mariabella is divine,” Maximus said, leaning in toward Cass. “Beautiful and talented. She used to assist me in my act from time to time. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the beauty your brother fell in love with.” “What did--does--she look like?” Cass asked. Maximus pulled a rose out of thin air. “She has silky dark hair and the most delicious set of lips.” He reached out his index finger as though to touch Cass’s lips and then seemed to think better of it. “You resemble her, in a way. Except you don’t have her birthmark.” He traced the shape of a heart in the air. Cass’s blood accelerated in her veins. A heart-shaped birthmark. It had to be the same girl. Mariabella. A maid missing from Joseph Dubois’s estate, and now a dead courtesan, one of his chosen companions. Could it possibly be a coincidence? Emotions churned together in her stomach--excitement and wonder and fear. And more excitement. She leaned in to give the conjurer an impulsive peck on the cheek. The conjurer pressed the rose into her palm. “I think your master is watching us.” Cass glanced up and saw Falco staring at her--no, at them--from the doorway of the portego. Cass hadn’t even heard the front doors open. “I see you’ve met my beautiful signorina,” Falco said, nodding to the conjurer as he snaked his fingers around one of Cass’s small wrists. The conjurer winked at Cass. “Indeed. There’s something magical about her, wouldn’t you say?” “You’ve no idea,” Falco said. He pulled her across the room, out of the conjurer’s earshot. “Is it safe to leave you alone for a few minutes while I go speak to the owner of the house?” “No need,” Cass said. She couldn’t help but smile triumphantly. “I’ve not only learned the name of the dead girl, but I also know where she lives.” Falco arched an eyebrow. “All that, and you still found the time to bat your eyelashes at some traveling con man? That is impressive.” “I wasn’t batting anything,” Cass said. “I was appreciating his performance. Come on. I’ll fill you in on the way to her place.” As the two passed the conjurer, Falco’s grip on her was so tight, she was afraid he was going to leave a bruise. “Good-bye, Maximus,” she called behind her. “Thank you for the magic.

All of this was happening in private. U.S. electors knew nothing of Sater’s Kremlin outreach scheme. Trump did, though. So did Cohen. Cohen said he talked to Trump about the Moscow tower three times. When it appeared that the project was faltering, despite a letter of intent, Cohen took a bold step. He sent an email to someone big: Putin’s press secretary, Dmitry Peskov. The email was a petition, a meekly phrased plea for help. It was sent in mid-January 2016. Cohen wrote: Over the past few months I have been working with a company based in Russia regarding the development of a Trump Tower-Moscow project in Moscow City. Without getting into lengthy specifics, the communication between our two sides has stalled. As this project is too important, I am hereby requesting your assistance. I respectfully request someone, preferably you, contact me so that I might discuss the specifics as well as arranging meetings with the appropriate individuals. I thank you in advance for your assistance and look forward to hearing from you soon. Cohen dispatched the email to a generic address, rather than to Peskov’s personal account. Nonetheless, the email would have been found and closely examined. The email’s recipient, Peskov, wasn’t only Putin’s long-serving mouthpiece—he was also in charge of the operation to compromise Clinton, according to the Steele dossier, and someone who saw Russia’s president practically every day. Cohen insisted there was no collusion. And yet this is precisely what his email looked like: a direct (and covert) request for assistance from Team Trump to Team Putin. Was this politics or business or both? As always with Trump, it was hard to tell.

You look beautiful in those colors, Kathleen.” His voice was low and soft. She felt her face prickle. “Don’t use my first name.” “By all means,” Devon mocked, glancing down at his towel-clad form, “let’s be formal. She made the mistake of following his gaze, and colored deeply at the sight of him…the intriguing dark hair on his chest, the way the muscle of his stomach seemed to have been carved like mahogany fretwork. A knock came at the bedroom door. Kathleen retreated deeper into the bathroom like a turtle withdrawing in its shell. “Come in, Sutton,” she heard Devon say. “Your clothes, sir.” “Thank you. Lay them out on the bed.” “Won’t you require assistance?” “Not today.” “You will dress yourself?” the valet asked, bewildered. “I’ve heard that some men do,” Devon replied sardonically. “You may leave now.” The valet heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, sir.

Your clothes, sir.” “Thank you. Lay them out on the bed.” “Won’t you require assistance?” “Not today.” “You will dress yourself?” the valet asked, bewildered. “I’ve heard that some men do,” Devon replied sardonically.

Greetings, Friends [or Esteemed Colleagues], Due to high workload, I am currently checking and responding to e-mail twice daily at 12:00 P.M. ET [or your time zone] and 4:00 P.M. ET. If you require urgent assistance (please ensure it is urgent) that cannot wait until either 12:00 P.M. or 4:00 P.M., please contact me via phone at 555-555-5555. Thank you for understanding this move to more efficiency and effectiveness. It helps me accomplish more to serve you better. Sincerely, Tim Ferriss

My Lord, It was very kind of you to send the lovely gift which is very useful now that the weather has turned. I am pleased to relate that the cashmere absorbed an application of black dye quite evenly so that it is now appropriate for mourning. Thank you for your thoughtfulness. Lady Trenear “You dyed it?” Devon asked aloud, setting the note on his desk with mixture of amusement and irritation. Reaching for a silver penholder, he inserted a fresh nib and pulled a sheet of writing paper from a nearby stack. That morning he had already written a half-dozen missives to lawyers, his banker, and contractors, and had hired an outside agent to analyze the estate’s finances. He grimaced at the sight of his ink-stained fingers. The lemon-and-salt paste his valet had given him wouldn’t entirely remove the smudges. He was tired of writing, and even more so of numbers, and Kathleen’s letter was a welcome distraction. The challenge could not go unanswered. Staring down at the letter with a faint smile, Deon pondered the best way to annoy her. Dipping the pen nib into the inkwell, he wrote, Madam, I am delighted to learn that you find the shawl useful in these cooler days of autumn. On that subject, I am writing to inform you of my recent decision to donate all the black curtains that currently shroud the windows at Eversby Priory to a London charitable organization. Although you will regrettably no longer have use of the cloth, it will be made into winter coats for the poor, which I am sure you will agree is a far nobler purpose. I am confident in your ability to find other ways of making the atmosphere at Eversby Priory appropriately grim and cheerless. If I do not receive the curtains promptly, I will take it to mean that you are eager for my assistance, in which case I will be delighted to oblige you by coming to Hampshire at once. Trenear Kathleen’s reply was delivered a week later, along with massive crates containing the black curtains.

By being with her and involving her. • Plan time to spend with her alone. • Develop common interests with her. • Let her know how she can help you/work along side you. • Call her from work. • Tell her about what you do. By seeking to understand her and help her. •Ask what she did today and then listen. • Inquire as to her well-being and then pay attention. • Plan a regular time to talk about her concerns and then pray/study/and help her find solutions. • Ask her how you can pray for her. • Pray with her. • Assist her when she needs it. By appreciating her. • Thank God for her. • Think and verbalize specific qualities or deeds that you are thankful for. • Speak well of her to others. • Leave her a note of appreciation. By treating her special compared to others. • Open doors for her. • Plan dates. • Put her “needs” and desires above others. • Show her non-sexual affection. • Be sexually intimate with her, focusing most on her enjoyment. By revealing yourself to her. • Communicate your thoughts, perspectives, and goals to her. • Let her know how she can pray for you.

You are overheated, my lady,” her new partner said severely. “It will be a pleasure to escort you outside for fresh air.” She opened her mouth to protest such forwardness, but then the man opened his mouth slightly so that she could glimpse his fangs. “Clayton cannot touch you here, no matter how much he may pretend otherwise.” Blinking in astonishment, she nodded and allowed him to lead her off the dance floor. Clayton glared at the vampire with such malice that she was reassured this was an ally. Her fear reduced, she followed him out the French doors. Once outside, the vampire frowned at her and shook his head. “Honestly, for a countess, you are shockingly inept at duplicity.” “And who are you?” she asked faintly. The vampire bowed. “I am Aldric Cadell, Viscount Thornton and Lord of Blackpool. I have come to assist with the war.” Cassandra curtsied. “Rafael and I are grateful for your assistance.” Rafe burst out the French doors, eyeing Blackpool suspiciously. “I would greatly appreciate it if you would inform me before absconding with my fiancée.” “I was not absconding with her,” Blackpool replied calmly. “I was rescuing her from Edmondson. Did you not notice his odious presence?” Rafe snarled. “I did. But I should have gotten her away from him. It is my duty to protect her.” “You couldn’t have left the dance without shaming yourself and her as well,” Blackpool retorted. “As your ally, it is my duty to provide aid when it is required.” Rafe rubbed his temples. “You are right. I apologize, and thank you for taking her away from our enemy.

produced my most resonant tone: “Boarrrrr’s Head Turkey.” “OK, do it again.” A little more gusto this time. “Booooarrrrrrr’s Head Turkey!” “Again.” Maybe I wasn’t accentuating the right syllable. “Booooar’s Head TUR-key!” “Again.” “BoaRRRRR’s Head Tur-KEY.” “Again.” “BOOOOOARS Head Turrrrr-key.” “Again.” “Boarrr’s HEAD Tur-KEYYYY.” “Again.” I was stuck in a sadistic loop with this fucker. He knew I’d never get the part, but he was making me repeat this damn line over and over. I couldn’t think of any new ways to say it! I was barely intelligible at this point. It was like that scene at the end of The Miracle Worker when Anne Bancroft gets Patty Duke to say “water” but it sounds like “wwwaaaaaauuhh-waaaahhhhwuh.” I refused to be the first to quit. “BWOOORRRS HEHD TUH-TUH.” “Again.” “TURRRRRRRR GA-BWAW BWAH.” “Again.” “BUHHHH HUH TURRRR TURRRR.” “Again.” A knock at the door. His assistant, asking if he was ready for the next auditioner. “Yes, send him in. Thank you Mister . . . Kelly.” “You are . . . welcome.” I waited years for that commercial to make

Thank you, Mina Holmes. We would never have been able to do this without your assistance. - Lurelia

Lower River, low-class peasants. Fain is still smiling wide at me, smug as a contented cat. There’s an anticipatory gleam in his eye, and I realize that he’s waiting for my thanks. “I’m leaving,” I tell him succinctly. “Thank you for your assistance, but I need to find my family.” I pin Fain with a polite but level stare, my heart pounding out my hurt. “And I wouldn’t want to sully your tent further with my rustic, peasant ways.

When we went on the stock market, it didn’t mean anything to some of us country boys. The chairman always said I came across the Red River barefooted and hunting a job, which is almost the way it was. I didn’t even know what stock was. But I bought some, thank God, because Phil Green said, ‘Hey, you buy some of that stock, boy.’ I bought it and I kept it because I believed in Mr. Walton, and I believed in my store. It’s real simple. I believed him when he said we could do all these things with the company. And we did.” —AL MILES, first assistant manager, store number 6, Fayetteville, Arkansas, now a retired Wal-Mart executive

very confusing. But you must make every effort to keep yourself pure of all that until this is over. And if there is anyone here to whom being sequestered would present an undue hardship for the next several weeks, for reasons of health or family responsibility, please speak up when your name is called. We are going to need twelve jurors and two alternates. And ladies and gentlemen, we thank you for your assistance.” He turned to the bailiff then and told him to call the names of the prospective jurors. The first woman was so frightened she almost tripped on the way to her seat, and she was shaking so hard Marielle could see it as she watched her. The second juror was a woman too, an elderly black woman who had a hard time getting to her seat, she was so old and crippled. Then there were two men, both middle-aged, and a man about forty with one leg, a Chinese girl with incredibly long hair in braids, a good-looking young black man, two pretty young girls,

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I ask that any and all beings assist and comfort anyone that I have ever harmed either physically, mentally, morally, spiritually or emotionally in any past, present or future life, and I ask any and all beings to assist and comfort the families and friends of anyone I have ever harmed in any way, in any past, present or future life, thank you!

VITAL Action As you take action on your social-anxiety playing field, you can use the following skills to guide you in each and every action: V Identify your values and goals. (Hint: Values guide your actions and are never “finished”; goals are things you can check off and say you’re done with.) I Remain in the present moment, first anchoring your attention to the breath and then shifting your focus to, and staying fully present with, what really matters in the situation; revisit your anchor as needed when your focus drifts from the present moment. T Take notice of your experience from your observer perspective (perhaps embodying your inner mountain or another observer image), noticing feelings, thoughts, and urges to use safety behaviors (including avoidance). AL Allow your experience to be exactly as it is, with the assistance of metaphors (flip on your willingness switch, drop the rope, welcome Uncle Leo, and so on) and defusion strategies (labeling, thank your mind, and so on). Try bringing attitudes of curiosity, openness, compassion, and acceptance to your experience.

Hellooo, hoochie mama.” His brother Kellman shoved at him. “Excuse my mentally defective brother, Evalle. Real glad to see you again. Thanks for the assist.” “You’re welcome. Gotta fight demon now. Go.

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Santhi Gems is a well-known gold buyer in Chennai that sets itself apart with exceptional services and a consistent commitment to customer loyalty. Santhi Gems has achieved a stellar reputation in the industry thanks to its straightforwardness, trustworthiness, and dependability, as well as its extensive history. This article delves into the key features that set Santhi Gems apart from other Chennai gold buyers, including its customer-focused approach, ethical practices, and extensive range of services. Research how Santhi Pearls' dedication to significance and genuineness go with it a leaned toward choice for those wanting to sell or credit against their gold assets in Chennai. 1. Introduction to Santhi Adornments' History and Foundation Santhi Gems, headquartered in Chennai, has been a trusted name in the gold purchasing industry for more than two decades. Santhi Gems has established a reputation for unwavering quality and authenticity thanks to a solid foundation built on trustworthiness and customer loyalty. Santhi Gems' mission and values are to provide customers with a straightforward and fair gold purchasing experience. Each partnership is guided by their genuine sincerity regarding the benefits, trust, and customer-centricity, ensuring that customers are treated with respect and consideration throughout the selling cycle. 2. Direct Assessing and Appraisal Communication Clear Valuation Procedures Selling Gold Jewelry Santhi Adornments provides a consistent and straightforward cycle for selling gold items, whether you want to branch out from your existing collection or update it. Their capable staff ensures that clients get fair motivator for their important effects. Gold Advance Offices Santhi Adornments offers gold advance offices in addition to buying gold gems, allowing customers to use their gold resources for financial assistance. They make it advantageous and secure to access reserves thanks to their flexible terms and competitive rates. 6. By placing an emphasis on client instruction, Santhi Adornments moves beyond value-based connections. They encourage customers to make educated decisions regarding their gold resources by providing experiences into the patterns of the gold market as well as advice on how to care for and maintain gold. Direction on Patterns in the Gold Market When managing valuable metals, it is essential to remain informed about the gold market. Santhi Gems ensures that customers are up to date on market trends, allowing them to make crucial decisions regarding gold investments or transactions. Tips for Taking Care of Gold Gems Proper care and attention can have a significant impact on their value and lifespan. Santhi Diamonds outfits clients with central hints on endlessly protecting their gold things, ensuring that they hold their greatness and shimmer for a seriously significant time-frame into what's in store. 7. Obligation to Follow Moral Principles The activities of Santhi Adornments are centered on following moral principles and being capable of doing so. They keep the advantages of uprightness and social responsibility in the gold business by focusing on fair exchange gold acquiring and implementing earth-manageable practices.

BARTON CENTRE, 912, 9th Floor, Mahatma Gandhi Rd, Bengaluru, Karnataka - 560 001 Phone Number +91 8884400919 London Tour Package From Bangalore with Surfnxt Do you long to see the famous landmarks of London, learn about the city's fascinating past, and experience the vibrant culture of one of the world's greatest cities? Your ideal vacation is just a booking away with the London Tour Package from Bangalore offered by Surfnxt! From the bustling streets of London to the heart of India, this carefully curated package ensures that every aspect of your trip is taken care of. Why Should You Take Your Next Vacation to London? London, the UK's capital, is a place where tradition meets modernity. From Buckingham Palace to the Tower of London, the British Museum to Covent Garden's bustling streets, London has something for everyone traveling there. This city has it all, whether you're interested in history, art, and culture, or modern attractions like the London Eye and West End theaters. Your Travel Partner for a London Adventure: Surfnxt Surfnxt is known for creating tour packages that place a high value on comfort, ease of use, and engaging experiences. Their Bangalore-based London Tour Package is designed to let travelers see all of London's famous landmarks and sample the city's diverse culture. Highlights of the London Tour Package from Surfnxt: Flying directly from Bangalore: The hassle-free and comfortable journey from Bangalore to London is made possible by Surfnxt's direct or one-stop flights. With top carriers, you can have confidence of a smooth travel insight. Comprehensive Travel Route: Visits to all of London's must-see attractions are included in the package. You'll get a tour of the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, and Houses of Parliament with a guide. Additionally, you will tour Camden's bustling markets, visit beautiful parks, and take a scenic river cruise. Places to Stay in the Best Areas: Choose from a selection of hotels in the heart of London. Surfnxt ensures that your accommodation offers comfort and easy access to key attractions, whether it's a modern stay near Piccadilly Circus or a boutique hotel near Hyde Park. Options for Customizable Tours: Surfnxt offers adaptable itineraries that can be tailored to your interests, whether you want to include a day trip to nearby Oxford or Windsor or explore London's lively neighborhoods. You can also include guided museum tours, shopping trips, or a night out at a West End theater. Transfers and assistance with travel are seamless: Surfnxt takes care of all the details, from airport transfers in Bangalore and London to local transportation within the city, so you can focus on having fun. Throughout your stay, they also offer assistance with transportation. Assistance for Visas: Concerned about visa documentation? The travel specialists at Surfnxt provide travelers with complete visa assistance, guiding you through the application process for a stress-free experience. Pricing All-Inclusive: The price of the package is all-inclusive, covering everything from airfare to lodging to guided tours to entry fees to local transportation. Why Select Surfnxt? Your London Tour Package From Bangalore is sure to be one to remember thanks to Surfnxt's expertise and attention to detail. They put a strong emphasis on providing services that are tailored to each customer, ensuring that your travel experience is trouble-free, pleasurable, and full of memorable moments. Conclusion Surfnxt's London Tour Package from Bangalore offers the ideal combination of convenience, adventure, and cultural immersion, whether this is your first trip to London or your second. Surfnxt takes care of everything, from booking your flights to making sure you see the best of London, so you don't have to worry about anything. With Surfnxt, you can begin planning your trip to London right away!

Suraj solar and allied industries, Wework galaxy, 43, Residency Road, Bangalore-560025. Mobile number : +91 808 850 7979 Introduction to Solar Rooftop in Bangalore Solar rooftop systems have emerged as a game-changing innovation in Bangalore's energy consumption, providing a green and sustainable alternative to conventional sources of power. Solar rooftops are gaining a lot of traction among residential, commercial, and industrial users in the city as it deals with rising energy demands and environmental concerns. This article examines the advantages, drawbacks, government initiatives, case studies, and prospects for the future of solar rooftops, which have had a profound effect on Bangalore's energy landscape. 1. Introduction to Bangalore's Solar Rooftops An Overview of Bangalore's Solar Rooftop Systems Ah, Bangalore! Home to tech whiz kids, filter coffee connoisseurs, and now the progressive pioneers who are embracing solar rooftops! The eco-friendly Batman of the energy industry, solar rooftop systems are perched atop buildings and convert sunlight into clean, renewable power. Installed on rooftops, these systems use solar panels to generate electricity, assisting in the reduction of reliance on conventional grid power. 2. Economic Benefits of Solar Rooftops for Energy Consumption Who doesn't love saving money while protecting the environment? The economic benefits of solar rooftops in Bangalore are significant. By producing your own power, you can slice those heavy energy bills and even bring in an additional money by selling overabundance influence back to the matrix. It's like having a solar side business on your roof! Impact on the Environment Let's be honest: Bangalore's air quality could use a break. When it comes to reducing emissions of greenhouse gases and air pollution, solar rooftops emerge as the cloaked crusaders. You are reducing your carbon footprint and contributing to a cleaner and greener Bangalore by using solar power. When the sun shines on your rooftop panels, it's like giving Mother Nature a high five. 3. Impact of Solar Rooftop in Bangalore Energy Landscape Reduction of Carbon Footprint Bangalore, with its vibrant culture and bustling IT hubs, can also be a hotbed for emissions. Sun powered roofs go about as the eco-heroes, checking carbon impressions and advancing manageability. The city has the potential to make a significant leap toward a more healthy environment and a brighter future for future generations by utilizing solar energy. Integration with Existing Energy Infrastructure The beauty of solar rooftops in Bangalore is that they seamlessly combine solar power with traditional grid energy. These frameworks can undoubtedly incorporate with the current energy foundation, making a more strong and dependable energy organization. It's like combining the best of both worlds to guarantee the city's bustling energy supply's stability and sustainability. 4. Adopting Solar Rooftops: Obstacles and Solutions Initial Cost and Return on Investment We understand that the initial cost of installing solar rooftops may appear to be the bad guy in this sustainability tale. However, rest assured! The return on investment for solar rooftops in Bangalore is brighter than a sunny day thanks to government subsidies, tax incentives, and lower panel prices. Consider it a long-term investment in the environment and your savings. Technical Considerations and Maintenance Although the process of maintaining solar rooftops may appear intimidating, it is not rocket science—rather, it is solar science! To keep your solar panels in top condition, all you need to do is clean them on a regular basis, keep an eye on how well the system is working, and do occasional maintenance checks. Navigating the technical aspects of solar rooftops has never been easier thanks to technological advancements and the assistance of local experts.

Principles are the first thing dictators attack. Various “Putins” around the world are undermining principles in their societies through propaganda and repression so that people cannot stand up for what they believe in. And then, when the dictatorship gains strength and resources, it tries to export its lack of principles, creating gray zones devoid of values. Europe has had to face this many times. Now we are experiencing another defining moment. Russia is trying to convince nations that it is easy to compromise principles—that they can ignore international law and turn a blind eye to injustice if it will supposedly bring stability. This is Moscow's main message - Putin invites everyone to forget about their principles, to show no resolve, to give up Ukrainian land and people, and then, he says, Russian bombing will stop. But throughout history, every time such agreements have been made, the threat has returned even stronger. Today, we have a chance to win in Eastern Europe so that we don't have to fight on the northern or other eastern fronts—in the Baltic states and Poland, or in the south—in the Balkans, where it is easy to ignite a conflict, or in African countries, whose problems are much closer to European societies than it may seem. We have to stand up for international law and the values on which our societies are built. We must be decisive. People matter. The law matters. State borders and the right of every nation to determine its own future matters. And while we know that Putin is threatening leaders and countries who can help us force Russia to peace, we must not give in. I thank you for every package of defense assistance to Ukraine. Every weapon you have provided helps to defend normal life—the kind of life you live here in Iceland or in any of your other countries, a life that no longer exists in Russia, where basic human rights have been taken away. We are now in the third year of a full-scale war, and our soldiers on the front lines need fresh strength. That is why we are working to equip our brigades. This is an urgent need. We are already cooperating with others—France has helped to equip one brigade, and we have an agreement on another. We invite you to join us in creating brigades, Scandinavian brigades, and demonstrate your continued commitment to the defense of Europe. I am grateful to Denmark and other partners who invest in arms production in Ukraine. Artillery, shells, drones—everything that allows Ukraine to defend itself despite any logistical delays on the part of partners or changing political moods in world capitals. We see that Putin is increasing weapons production, and rogue regimes like Pyongyang are helping him with this. Next year, Putin intends to catch up with the EU in munitions production. We can only prevent this now (...). - Translated from Ukrainian

Gold Buyer in Chennai: Santhi Jewellery Chennai is a city where gold holds a special place because of its extensive cultural heritage. Gold has been used as a symbol of wealth and prestige in South Indian culture for centuries. Santhi Jewellery is the most popular place to sell gold in Chennai because of its dedication to trust, openness, and excellent service among the many gold buyers there. Why Exchange Gold? The decision to sell gold can be made for a variety of reasons, including the need to upgrade outdated designs, unlock financial liquidity in the event of an emergency, or simply to make a strategic financial decision. In any case, if you want to get the most money for your precious metal, you need to find a reputable gold buyer. Santhi Gems - A Confided in Gold Buyer in Chennai Santhi Gems has procured a standing as quite possibly of the most confided in gold purchaser in Chennai. Santhi Jewellery, which is located in the center of the city, takes pride in providing transparent and sincere evaluations for your gold assets, ensuring that you receive the best price based on market rates at the present time. Why Santhi Jewelers? Fair Market Value: Santhi Jewellery is known for providing honest and accurate gold appraisals. They use cutting-edge technology to evaluate the purity and weight of your gold, ensuring that you are compensated fairly based on current market prices. The process is open and transparent. Experience and knowledge: Santhi Jewellery has a deep understanding of gold's value and market trends thanks to years of experience in the gold industry. Whether your gold is in the form of old jewelry, coins, or bullion, their team of experts will make sure you get the best price for it. A focus on the customer: Customer satisfaction is a top priority at Santhi Jewellery. They make selling easy and comfortable for you, and they make sure that all of your questions are answered. Whether you are selling a little piece of gems or a lot of gold, each exchange is dealt with absolute attention to detail and impressive skill. Payment in a flash: The guarantee of immediate payments is one of the biggest advantages of selling gold at Santhi Jewellery. Payment is processed immediately after your gold has been evaluated and you agree to the price. Because of this, it is a convenient choice for people who require quick access to funds. No extra costs: At Santhi Jewellery, openness is important. Santhi Jewellery guarantees a transparent transaction, in contrast to some gold buyers who may deduct concealed fees or charges. The whole thing is easy, so there won't be any surprises. You'll know exactly how much you'll get. Convenient Location Santhi Jewellery is conveniently located in the center of Chennai, making it convenient for people looking to sell gold in the city. Their courteous staff is always available to assist you with any inquiries, and their modern and secure premises guarantee a safe environment for your transaction. Conclusion Santhi Jewellery is a name that stands out when looking for a dependable Gold Buyer in Chennai because of its professionalism, open process, and dedication to customer satisfaction. Santhi Jewellery guarantees that you will receive the highest possible value for your gold, without any hassle, whether you are selling old gold jewelry or looking for a quick financial solution. Visit them right now for a hassle-free and dependable gold buying experience.

SEPTEMBER 11 Fueling Relief When we finally got the clearance to drive through the checkpoints, two weeks after the World Trade Center attacks, the street was lined with New Yorkers—New Yorkers!—waving banners with simple messages. “We love you. You’re our heroes. God bless you. Thank you.” The workers were running on that support as their vehicles ran on fuel. They had so little good news in a day. They faced a mountainously depressing task of removing tons and tons of twisted steel, compacted dirt, smashed equipment, broken glass. But every time they drove past the barricades, they faced a line of fans cheering them on, like the tunnel of cheerleaders that football players run through, reminding them that an entire nation appreciated their service. In a Salvation Army van with lights flashing, we attracted some of the loudest cheers of all. Moises Serrano, the Salvation Army officer leading us, was Incident Director for the city. He had been on the job barely a month when the planes hit. He worked thirty-six straight hours and slept four, forty hours and slept six, forty more hours and slept six. Then he took a day off. His assistant had an emotional breakdown early on, in the same van I was riding in, and may never recover. Many of the Salvationists I met hailed from Florida, the hurricane crews who keep fully stocked canteens and trucks full of basic supplies. When the Manhattan buildings fell, they mobilized all those trucks and drove them to New York. The crew director told me, “To tell you the truth, I came up here expecting to deal with Yankees, if you know what I mean. Instead, it’s all smiles and thank yous.” I came to appreciate the cheerful toughness of the Salvation Army. These soldiers worked in the morgue and served on the front lines. Over the years, though, they had developed an inner strength based on discipline, on community, and above all on a clear vision of whom they were serving. The Salvation Army may have a hierarchy of command, but every soldier knows he or she is performing for an audience of One. As one told me, Salvationists serve in order to earn the ultimate accolade from God himself: “Well done, thy good and faithful servant.” Finding God in Unexpected Places

Chapter 15 Grace One morning, after an uneventful sojourn at the bath house. The ward received a rare visit from the Physician Superintendent. He walked into the day room accompanied by the charge nurse just as me and Art were preparing the patients for lunch. “Do you say Grace before meals?” inquired the Superintendent of the charge. “Yes Sir.” The charge was well aware of the hospital rules and snapped almost to attention in reply. His response was true. Our charge, being a stickler for the rule book of the institution, always insisted on saying grace. The order was; “Stand behind your chairs.” Usually bellowed by the deputy although Art and I occasionally got the chance. The seventy odd patients milling round in the dining gallery would stand behind their chairs in absolute silence. Years of institutional living had taught them that meals would only be served after a period of absolute silence, followed by grace. The charge, not leaving his chair, would open his office door and poking his head out would call. “For whayouare aboutorecieve maythelor mayoutruly thankful.” To which the patients would dutifully chorus “Amen” and sit down to eat. On this day the “Big Chief” was present and Art and I could tell things were going to be different. “Stand behind your chairs.” Was said. Nothing happened.—Louder, “Stand behind your chairs.” Nothing.—Art bellowed “Stand behind your chairs.” The effect was electric and the mass moved into its lunchtime position of silence standing behind their chairs in the dining room. The charge had slipped into his long white nursing coat. He was going to assist with lunch. He moved away from the side of the Physician Superintendent and stood in the centre of the dining room. There he adopted a posture which he adjudged spiritually appropriate. Hands clasped in front of him, eyes lowered, he bowed his head. Not wishing to get on the wrong side of our boss. Art and I stood one either side of him and followed suit. Absolute silence reigned. Before the charge could proceed any further with this charade the ward kitchen door opened to reveal Benny and Jimmy. They were two long standing ward worker patients who’s job it was to prepare the plates on the servery ready for the meal. Patients assisting with serving meals was against the “rules” and Benny realising that the Superintendent was present blurted out. “For Christ’s sake shut that bloody door.” Seventy nine patients solemnly responded with “Amen.” and promptly sat down in eager anticipation of their dinner. “I see.” said the Physician Superintendent and walked poker faced from the dining room with the red faced charge trailing in his wake. We never said Grace again after that.

Specific behaviors to demonstrate include appropriate daily interactions such as greetings, introductions, saying thank you and excuse me, how to give and accept a compliment, when to show respect and allow others to go first, assisting people in need, answering a phone, how to wait in line, offering to take someone’s jacket, and how to properly interrupt a conversation.

I cannot allow you to burn the candle at both ends, Emmaline,” St. Just scolded. “Either we find you some assistance in the kitchen, or we get you some more rest. You look exhausted, and Douglas agrees, so it’s a bona fide fact. I’m going to take Winnie out with me tomorrow morning, and you’re going to sleep in.” “Sleep in,” Emmie said, the way some women might have said “a dozen new bonnets” or “chocolate” or “twenty thousand a year.” “It isn’t a baking day tomorrow,” the earl went on. “Winnie has acquainted me with every detail of her schedule, and baking isn’t on for tomorrow. So you will rest?” “I will sleep in,” Emmie said as they reached her room and pushed her door open. He preceded her into the darkened chamber and lit several candles while she watched. “You will go directly to bed,” he admonished. “No languishing in the arms of Mr. Darcy or whatever it is you read to soothe you into slumber.” She listened to him lecturing as she drifted around the room in slow, random motion. “Emmie?” He set the candles down and frowned at her. “What is amiss?” “Nothing.” But her voice quavered just the least little bit as she sat on her bed. “I’m just tired. My thanks for a pleasant evening.” He went to the bed and paused, frowning down at her mightily. He let out a gusty exhalation, then drew her to feet and wrapped his arms around her. “We will both be relieved when your damned menses have arrived.” For an instant, she was stiff and resisting against him, but then she drew in a shuddery breath, nodded silently, and laid her cheek on his chest. He held her, stroking her hair with one hand, keeping her anchored to him with the other, and the warmth and solid strength of him left her feeling more tired but in some fashion relieved, as well. Winnie would thrive in his care. Thrive in ways Emmie could never have afforded. “There is no crime, Emmie, in seeking a little comfort betimes. Being grown up doesn’t mean we can’t need the occasional embrace or hand to hold.” She nodded again and let her arms steal around his waist. Slowly, she gave in to what he offered, letting him support more and more of her weight. His hand drifted from her hair to her back, and when he swept his palm over her shoulder blades in a slow, circular caress, she sighed and rubbed her cheek against him. She could have stood there all night, so peaceful and right did it feel to be in his arms. His scent was enveloping her, his body warming hers. “Thank you,” she said, mustering a smile when he stepped back. “And good night, good knight.” He must have comprehended her play on words, because he returned her smile, kissed her forehead and her cheek, and withdrew. She

My grandson, Rizq, is of age, which is celebrated in Muslim tradition by his circumcision. The day of his surgery I will be throwing him a Rite of Passage celebration party. I wish for you to provide him with some male sensual and sexual education. "Would you be willing to take on this task of being his mentors? I have asked Gaston and Jacques to educate him in heterosexual lovemaking." Andy looked at me for a response. I nodded so he replied, "We will assist this young man to the best of our ability. Thank you for trusting in us to take on this mentorship role. We are most grateful and honored." "Well, that is wonderful. I’d like Rizq to have a few sexual experiences before his circumcision, and then again after he has healed from his surgery. That way he will better understand the different sensations, before and after circumcision,” he replied.

To her surprise, Linc was waiting around the first curve on the road, listening to the radio. She could see his hand tapping a beat on the back of the other seat. Kenzie slowed her car to a stop when their windows lined up. He rolled his down. “Hey. How’d it go?” “No big deal. I handed the papers to his temp assistant. What the hell are you doing here?” Linc studied her face. “I wanted to see if the beacon I put on your car was working.” She should have known. “Is that necessary?” “The readout is on this.” He tapped the face of his watch. “I can’t see. And I don’t believe you.” Kenzie put her car into park, got out, and walked around. He turned his wrist to show her. “Check it out. Your dot merged into my dot.” “Isn’t that sweet.” He grinned. “It’s not a problem to remove the beacon if you don’t like it.” “No. It’s all right. You’re the only person who knows where I am most of the time now.” That didn’t seem to have occurred to him. “Really?” She nodded. “So where are you off to?” Kenzie shot him a mocking look. “You don’t have to ask, do you?” Linc laughed. “The beacon can’t read your mind.” She rolled her eyes. “Thank God for that. If you want to know, I was heading to the drugstore to print out some of the photos for Mrs. Corelli. Where are you going?” “Just running errands,” he said. “Need anything from the electronics store?” “I don’t think so.” “Okay. I’m just picking up a couple of components.” Kenzie gave a little yelp. “Yikes--that reminds me. Yesterday my boss asked me to pick something up for him out in the boondocks. I forgot until you said that. So if my dot falls off your watch, you’ll know why.” He smiled at her warmly as he bent his arm and rested it on the bottom of the window frame. The bicep under the flannel rounded up very nicely as he lifted a hand and chucked her gently under the chin. “Funny.” The friendly touch was unexpectedly intimate. In fact, it triggered a dangerous sensation of giving in. She smiled at him, feeling weak. His brown eyes were dark and warm. She felt herself blush under his steady gaze. Linc was the real deal. Maybe she didn’t have to be so tough all the time. It was okay to be protected. More than okay. Back when she’d had Tex at her side, she’d actually liked the feeling. Like all military working dogs, he’d been trained to maintain an invisible six-foot circle around her, and woe to anyone who crossed into it without her permission. Including guys she was dating. “Kenzie?” She snapped out of it. “Sorry. You knocked on my stupid spot.” “I’ll have to remember that.” She shook her head in mock dismay. “Please don’t. Let’s touch base around four or five o’clock.” He nodded and turned the key in the ignition. “Works for me.” His gaze stayed on her a moment longer. “Call me if you need anything.” “I will. Thanks.” She glanced back at the gray monolith a little distance behind them and her mouth tightened. But when her green gaze met Linc’s brown eyes, she managed a quick smile. He raised his left hand in a quick good-bye wave and eased his car ahead of hers, rolling up the window again. She watched him go, then got back into hers and drove on, turning off on the road to the firing range.

To her surprise, Linc was waiting around the first curve on the road, listening to the radio. She could see his hand tapping a beat on the back of the other seat. Kenzie slowed her car to a stop when their windows lined up. He rolled his down. “Hey. How’d it go?” “No big deal. I handed the papers to his temp assistant. What the hell are you doing here?” Linc studied her face. “I wanted to see if the beacon I put on your car was working.” She should have known. “Is that necessary?” “The readout is on this.” He tapped the face of his watch. “I can’t see. And I don’t believe you.” Kenzie put her car into park, got out, and walked around. He turned his wrist to show her. “Check it out. Your dot merged into my dot.” “Isn’t that sweet.” He grinned. “It’s not a problem to remove the beacon if you don’t like it.” “No. It’s all right. You’re the only person who knows where I am most of the time now.” That didn’t seem to have occurred to him. “Really?” She nodded. “So where are you off to?” Kenzie shot him a mocking look. “You don’t have to ask, do you?” Linc laughed. “The beacon can’t read your mind.” She rolled her eyes. “Thank God for that.

1974 Bangkok   On my way from London to Kuala Lumpur that summer, I stopped in Bangkok for a few days, since I had never been to Krung Thep Maha Nakhon (Bangkok in Thai). I thought it an excellent idea to visit this vibrant city, known to some as the ‘Sin City of the East’ due to its liberal stance in sexual issues.               As soon as I’d stepped out of the airport to flag a taxi to the legendary Oriental Bangkok Hotel, I was confronted by hordes of haggling Thai men jostling for my business, bargaining with me in broken English to deliver me to my luxury lodging for the best price. But just then, a suave-looking foreigner in his thirties stepped in to dissipate their heated transactions. He wasted no time to disperse all the drivers except one. The gentleman had bargained in Thai for the best price on my behalf. He spoke in German-accented English, “I’m Max. The cab driver will take us to our hotel?”               “Oh, you are also staying at the Oriental?” I chirped.               “Hop into the cab so we can get out of this madding crowd,” he expressed vehemently, opening the car door to let me in.               As soon as we were comfortably situated at the back seat, he asked, “What brings you to Thonburi, Mr.…?” He trailed off.               “I’m Young. Thank you for your assistance! It’s my first time to Bangkok. I wasn’t expecting such a rowdy welcome. If it weren’t for you, I may have landed in a Thai hospital,” I joked. “Where’s Thonburi?”               He sniggered mischievously. “Thonburi, the city of treasures gracing the ocean, is Bangkok’s official name, although some refer to it more appropriately as Meụ̄xng k̄hxng khwām s̄uk̄h kām, the city of erotic pleasures,” he quipped.               Overhearing the words Meụ̄xng k̄hxng khwām s̄uk̄h kām, the cab driver commented, “You want boy, girl or boy-girl or girl-boy? I take you to happy place!”               Max burst out in laughter. He proceeded to have a conversation in Thai with the driver. I sat, silent, since I had no idea what was being said, until my acquaintance asked, “What brings you to Bangkok?”               “I’m on vacation. What brings you to Thonburi?” I queried.               “I’m here on business, and usually stay a while for leisure,” was his response. “Since we are staying in the same hotel, we’ll see more of each other. I’m happy to show you the city,” he added.               “That’ll be wonderful. I’ll take up your offer,” I said appreciatively, glad I’d met someone to show me around.               By the time our cab pulled up at the Oriental’s entrance, we had agreed to meet for dinner the following evening.

You’re welcome to stay at Ravenwood for as long as you need, and I’ll do whatever I can to assist you.” “Thank you, Bram. I certainly appreciate your offer, although I’m not sure anyone can assist me with Silas. He’s a very influential man, has unsavory contacts throughout the country, and doesn’t know how to take no for an answer. I’ve been at my wits’ end for years trying to figure out a way to get away from him once and for all, but I’ve yet to come up with a viable plan.” For a moment, Bram said absolutely nothing as he continued watching her with a considering look in his eyes. Then he took hold of her hand, giving it a good squeeze. “I believe one of the best solutions available to you, and one that will rid you of Silas Ruff once and for all, is this.” He sent her a charming smile as his hand tightened on hers. “You’re going to have to get married, and as circumstances would have it, I would be perfectly willing, and incredibly honored, of course, to offer you the safety of my name.

We can always pass some time visiting my herd of sheep.” “I think I’ve seen all the animals I care to see today, thank you very much, and even though the thought of avoiding whatever unpleasantness is transpiring between Abigail and Iris is tempting, I really won’t be comfortable leaving Abigail for long, even with Archibald and Mr. Kenton to keep an eye on her.” “That’s very thoughtful of you,” Bram said, sending Lucetta a charming smile that had her knees going a little wobbly. Shoving aside the idea that he was far too attractive when he smiled, and ignoring the curious condition of her knees, Lucetta fell into step beside him and began chatting about the weather, of all things. As they walked into a stand of trees, the temperature dropped, easing some of the heat that still remained on Lucetta’s neck, heat that immediately returned when Bram drew her to a stop and smiled at her again. “If you’ll turn around, I’ll help you with those buttons,” he said. His suggestion had the heat traveling up her neck and settling on her face, a reaction that took her by complete surprise. Being an actress, she’d become used to having many people button her up over the years, male and female, but their assistance had never bothered her before. Out of necessity, she’d rarely given much thought to modesty over the past few years, but now, surrounded only by trees and a gentleman who had one of the nicest smiles she’d ever seen, thoughts of modesty were pushing their way to the forefront of her mind. “Tell me about your sheep,” she said as she stood rooted to the spot, unable to turn around, and unwilling to take him up on his offer to help with her buttons just yet. She was thankful when Bram didn’t press her to turn. “It’s a diverse herd, made up of a wide variety of once abused and neglected sheep, all of them having a mistrust of humans.” He shook his head. “They’re becoming fairly well adjusted now, and I have high hopes that the longer they’re here, the more they’ll realize they’re finally safe and will settle into happy lives, chomping high grass on the castle grounds.” “Where did you get them?” Bram shrugged. “Here and there. It’s become known that I’m always willing to take in strays, so . . . people drop off all sorts of animals at Ravenwood, or people send me letters, letting me know of animals that might need my help. My staff and I spend a lot of time tracking down neglected animals, and once we find them, we bring them here to live out the rest of their lives.” Lucetta’s heart gave a lurch. “You’re a collector of misfits.” Bram smiled. “I like misfits, probably because I’ve always been a bit of a misfit as well.” He moved an inch closer to her. “Shall I button you up?” “I should probably do it myself.” His smile turned remarkably sweet. “I won’t look, in fact, I can close my eyes if it’ll make you feel better.” Drawing in a deep breath even as she realized she was being a complete ninny because there was no way she could reach the buttons on the back of her gown, she presented Bram with her back. A second later she nearly jumped out of her skin when his finger slid against the nape of her neck, pushing hair still wet from her bath out of the way before he began securing one button after another. “There, all done, and I didn’t peek—not once.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. Still

Right now, We are living in perhaps the most exciting time in history to buy, own or play that eternal instruments, The piano Cover. What is your goal is to purchase something as small as software that can record what you want to play, a newly designed player piano, a digital machine or a classic phonetic model, there have never been as many options for the trencherman. Player Pianos Also called reproducing pianos. this class of instrument describe a modern update on the paper-outcry player pianos you keep in mind from old movies, and they have grown enormously in popularity over the final decennial. These are not digital instruments they are real, philological pianos with hammers and rope that can be played generally. but they can also start themselves. using filthy electronic technology. Instead of shove paper, they take their hint from lethargic disks, specially formatted CDs or internal memory systems. different manufacturers offer vast sanctum of pre-recorded titles for their systems. music in every genre from pop to the classics filed by some of the earth’s top pianists. These sophisticated systems arrest every nuance of the original performances and play them back with dramatic accuracy providing something that’s actually so much better than CD fidelity because the activities are live. Watch my new cover : Dancing on my own piano Thanks to these new systems, many people who do not play the piano are enjoying live piano music at any time of at morning, night and day. How many they are concurrent dinners for two or entertaining a houseful of partygoers, these high-tech pianos take centre period. For people who do play the piano, these systems can be used to record their own piano deeds, Interface by- Computers, aid in music education, assist with composing and many other applications. In short, these modern marvels aren’t your grandfather's’ player pianos! If you want to learn see the video first : Dancing on my own piano cover

You look healthy,” Dev said. “If I did not know you were sporting the remains of a bullet wound, I would think you in the pink.” “Thank you.” Anna smiled. “I slept well last night.” For the first time in weeks, she truly had. “Well”—Val sat down and reached for the iced lemonade pitcher—“I did not sleep well. We need another thunderstorm.” “I wonder.” Anna’s eyes met Val’s. “Does Morgan still dread the thunderstorms?” “She does,” he replied, sitting back. “She figured out that the day your parents died, when she was trapped in the buggy accident, it stormed the entire afternoon. Her associations are still quite troubling, but her ears don’t physically hurt.” Dev and Anna exchanged a look of surprise, but Val was tucking into his steak. Dev turned his attention back to his plate. “Anna, are you ready to remove to the ducal mansion?” “As ready as I’ll be,” Anna replied, her steak suddenly losing its appeal. “Would you like me to cut that for you?” Dev asked, nodding at the meat on her plate. “I’ve pulled a shoulder now and then or landed funny from a frisky horse, and I know the oddest things can be uncomfortable.” “I just haven’t entirely regained my appetite,” Anna lied, eyeing the steak dubiously. “And I find I am tired, so perhaps you gentleman will excuse me while I catch a nap before we go?” She was gone before they were on their feet, leaving Dev and Val both frowning. “We offered to assist him in any way,” Dev said, picking up his glass. “I think this goes beyond even fraternal devotion.” “He’s doing what he thinks is right,” Val responded. “I have had quite enough of my front-row seat, Dev. Tragedy has never been my cup of tea.” “Nor farce mine.

ASK YOURSELF: How can you utilize active listening to provide sensational customer service? How will this help resolve complaints from unhappy customers? • Give them your full attention and listen without interruption or defensiveness. • Thank them for bringing the issue to your attention. • Take their concerns seriously and share their sense of urgency to resolve the problem quickly. • Ask questions and focus on what they are really saying. • Listen to their words, tone of voice, body language, and most importantly, how they feel. • Beware of making assumptions or rushing to conclusions before you hear their concern fully. • Explain, guide, educate, assist, and do what’s necessary to help them reach the resolution. • Treat them with respect and empathy. When you do an amazing job of resolving an unhappy customer’s problem, you may end up impressing them more than if the problem had never occurred. You may have just earned their loyalty . . . forever!

13 Simple Ways to Deliver Service Beyond Self 1. Make it Easy for People to Do Business with You. 2. Be an Awesome, Sincere Listener. 3. Listen to Customers’ Words and tone of voice, body language, and how they feel. Ask questions, listen, and meet them on their level. Explain, guide, educate, assist and do what is necessary to help them get the information they need to fully understand regarding their question or issue. 4. Show Enthusiasm. Greet customers with genuine interest. Give them your best. Think, act, and talk with positive enthusiasm and you will attract positive results. Your attitude is contagious! 5. Identify and Anticipate Needs. Most customer needs are more emotional rather than logical. 6. Under Promise & Over Deliver. Apply the principle of “Service Beyond Self” . . . give more than expected. Meet and exceed their expectations. If you can’t serve their needs, connect them with whoever can. 7. Make them Feel Important. Our deepest desire is to feel important. People rarely care how much you know until they know how much you care. Use their names, find ways to compliment them—and be sincere. 8. Take Responsibility for their Satisfaction. Do whatever is necessary to help them solve their problems. Let them know that if they can’t find answers to their questions to come back to you for help. 9. Treat your TEAM well. Fellow colleagues are your internal customers and need a regular dose of appreciation. Thank them and find ways to let them know how important they are. Treat your colleagues with respect; chances are they will have a higher regard for customers. 10. Choose an Attitude of Gratitude. Gratitude changes your perspective and helps you appreciate the good rather than simply taking it for granted. 11. Perform, Provide and Follow-Up. Always perform or provide your service in a spirit of excellence and integrity. If you say you’re going to do something—DO IT! There is tremendous value in being a resource for your customer. If you can help them to succeed, they are more likely to help you succeed. 12. Use Gracious Words. "Thank you, thank you very much.

12 Simple Ways to Deliver Service Beyond Self 1. Make it Easy for People to Do Business with You. 2. Be an Awesome, Sincere Listener. 3. Listen to Customers’ Words and tone of voice, body language, and how they feel. Ask questions, listen, and meet them on their level. Explain, guide, educate, assist and do what is necessary to help them get the information they need to fully understand regarding their question or issue. 4. Show Enthusiasm. Greet customers with genuine interest. Give them your best. Think, act, and talk with positive enthusiasm and you will attract positive results. Your attitude is contagious! 5. Identify and Anticipate Needs. Most customer needs are more emotional rather than logical. 6. Under Promise & Over Deliver. Apply the principle of “Service Beyond Self” . . . give more than expected. Meet and exceed their expectations. If you can’t serve their needs, connect them with whoever can. 7. Make them Feel Important. Our deepest desire is to feel important. People rarely care how much you know until they know how much you care. Use their names, find ways to compliment them—and be sincere. 8. Take Responsibility for their Satisfaction. Do whatever is necessary to help them solve their problems. Let them know that if they can’t find answers to their questions to come back to you for help. 9. Treat your TEAM well. Fellow colleagues are your internal customers and need a regular dose of appreciation. Thank them and find ways to let them know how important they are. Treat your colleagues with respect; chances are they will have a higher regard for customers. 10. Choose an Attitude of Gratitude. Gratitude changes your perspective and helps you appreciate the good rather than simply taking it for granted. 11. Perform, Provide and Follow-Up. Always perform or provide your service in a spirit of excellence and integrity. If you say you’re going to do something—DO IT! There is tremendous value in being a resource for your customer. If you can help them to succeed, they are more likely to help you succeed. Use Gracious Words. "Thank you, thank you very much.

he found himself rubbing his chest again. So fuckin’ gorgeous. Outside of his close circle of friends and brothers-in-arms, she was the best person he had ever met. “I just hope we can keep going,” she said. Seeing his question, she continued, “The area is slowly being renovated and some of the buildings have been bought. I know they’re cheap…well, cheap if you have several million to buy and renovate. I’ve heard that there’s someone who’s wanting to buy our building, and that would turn all the residents out. But so far, I’m holding on and I’ll fight anyone who tries to take this away from them.” Seeing the passion in her eyes, he found himself wanting all that passion turned his way. Buying the building out from under her? I’ll have Lily and BJ check to see what they can find out. The meal finished too quickly and he knew he needed to get her back to Ross. Standing, he assisted as she slipped into her coat and with fingers laced they walked outside. The night sky was clear and filled with stars. The wind had died down, leaving the early spring chill not as biting as earlier. As they drove to her building, he parked outside. Turning to each other, they both began talking at once. Laughing, he said, “Ladies first.” “I just wanted to thank you. Gabe, I haven’t had so much fun in a really long time.” Fun. That’s what Jobe said to give her. Smiling,

TO CHARLES A. KUFFNER JR. Without you, Charlie, this book would not be possible. Thank you for your inspiration, your assistance, your input, and your friendship. Your experiences and your willingness to share them freely in the writing of this book were typical of the reputation you have so justly earned as judge, lawyer, father, husband, brother, son, and one of the finest human beings anyone would be privileged to know. Thank you.

As the crowd jeered and laughed, the leader of the attackers vowed meekly, “We will never touch girls again. Honest, we won’t.” Then the three men edged away from the smirking crowd. As my pulse rate returned to normal, I discovered I was as amazed as everyone else. Taking a deep breath, I thanked God for His help and miraculous assistance. Those who had seen the encounter continued to call out their approval and good wishes. “Well done, Superwoman!” “You should be a coach. You should be training all the young women and girls. Make the streets safe!” Eventually I would earn my black belt, become a coach and share the Gospel the same way that I was saved.

helping me. It’s a full-time job, and I am grateful for your concern for my reader friends. Of course, thanks to my daughter and sons, who pull together—bringing me iced green tea and understanding my sometimes crazy schedule. I love that you know you’re still first, before any deadline. Thank you to my mom, Anne Kingsbury, and to my sisters, Tricia and Sue. Mom, you are amazing as my assistant—working day and night sorting through the mail from my readers. I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know. Traveling together these past years for Extraordinary Women and Women of Joy events has given us times that we will always treasure. Now we will be at Women

Thank you, Pig Keeper," Phillip said, and placed a few gold coins in the boy's hand. The boy's eyes went wide as he felt the weight of the gold,even as he absently corrected his prince. "Uh, Assistant Pig Keeper, actually.