Time Capsule Sayings And Quotes

Even if it were possible to cast my horoscope in this one life, and to make an accurate prediction about my future, it would not be possible to 'show' it to me because as soon as I saw it my future would change by definition. This is why Werner Heisenberg's adaptation of the Hays Office—the so-called principle of uncertainty whereby the act of measuring something has the effect of altering the measurement—is of such importance. In my case the difference is often made by publicity. For example, and to boast of one of my few virtues, I used to derive pleasure from giving my time to bright young people who showed promise as writers and who asked for my help. Then some profile of me quoted someone who disclosed that I liked to do this. Then it became something widely said of me, whereupon it became almost impossible for me to go on doing it, because I started to receive far more requests than I could respond to, let alone satisfy. Perception modifies reality: when I abandoned the smoking habit of more than three decades I was given a supposedly helpful pill called Wellbutrin. But as soon as I discovered that this was the brand name for an antidepressant, I tossed the bottle away. There may be successful methods for overcoming the blues but for me they cannot include a capsule that says: 'Fool yourself into happiness, while pretending not to do so.' I should actually want my mind to be strong enough to circumvent such a trick.

What is it with you and time capsules?" "I like the idea of a permanent record," he explains. "Something to say, This Is Who I Am, even when I'm not that person anymore...

Why are Muslims being “preserved” in some time capsule of centuries gone by? Why is it okay that we continue to live in a world where our women are compared to candy waiting to be consumed? Why is it okay for women of the rest of the world to fight for freedom and equality while we are told to cover our shameful bodies? Can’t you see that we are being held back from joining this elite club known as the 21st century? Noble liberals like yourself always stand up for the misrepresented Muslims and stand against the Islamophobes, which is great but who stands in my corner and for the others who feel oppressed by the religion? Every time we raise our voices, one of us is killed or threatened. . . . What you did by screaming “racist!” was shut down a conversation that many of us have been waiting to have. You helped those who wish to deny there are issues, deny them. What is so wrong with wanting to step into the current century? There should be no shame. There is no denying that violence, misogyny and homophobia exist in all religious texts, but Islam is the only religion that is adhered to so literally, to this day. In your culture you have the luxury of calling such literalists “crazies.” . . . In my culture, such values are upheld by more people than we realise. Many will try to deny it, but please hear me when I say that these are not fringe values. It is apparent in the lacking numbers of Muslims willing to speak out against the archaic Shariah law. The punishment for blasphemy and apostasy, etc, are tools of oppression. Why are they not addressed even by the peaceful folk who aren’t fanatical, who just want to have some sandwiches and pray five times a day? Where are the Muslim protestors against blasphemy laws/apostasy? Where are the Muslims who take a stand against harsh interpretation of Shariah?7

He welcomes the chance to do fatherly things with the little girl, and those ten morning minutes with dear little four-year-old Ruby, with her deep soulful eyes, and the wondrous things she sees with them, and her deep soulful voice, and the precious though not entirely memorable things she says with it, and the smell of baby shampoo and breakfast cereal filling the car, that little shimmering capsule of time is like listening to cello music in the morning, or watching birds in a flutter of industry building a nest, it simply reminds you that even if God is dead, or never existed in the first place, there is, nevertheless, something tender at the center of creation, some meaning, some purpose and poetry.

Our Vietnamese a time capsule, a mark of where your education ended. Ma, to speak in our mother tongue is to speak only partially in Vietnamese, but entirely in war. That night I promise myself I'd never be wordless when you needed me to speak for you. So I began my career as our family's official interpreter. From then on, I would fill in our blanks, our silences, our stutters, whenever I could. I code switched. I took off our language and wore my English, like a mask, so that others would see my face, and therefore yours. It's true that, in Vietnamese, we rarely say I love you, and when we do, it is almost always in English. Care and love, for us, are pronounced clearly through service...

Last-Minute Message For a Time Capsule I have to tell you this, whoever you are: that on one summer morning here, the ocean pounded in on tumbledown breakers, a south wind, bustling along the shore, whipped the froth into little rainbows, and a reckless gull swept down the beach as if to fly were everything it needed. I thought of your hovering saucers, looking for clues, and I wanted to write this down, so it wouldn't be lost forever - - that once upon a time we had meadows here, and astonishing things, swans and frogs and luna moths and blue skies that could stagger your heart. We could have had them still, and welcomed you to earth, but we also had the righteous ones who worshipped the True Faith, and Holy War. When you go home to your shining galaxy, say that what you learned from this dead and barren place is to beware the righteous ones.

I won't waste your time with the injuries of my childhood, with my loneliness, or the fear and sadness of the years I spent inside the bitter capsule of my parents' marriage, under the reign of my father's rage, after all, who isn't a survivor from the wreck of a childhood? I have no desire to describe mine; I only want to say that in order to survive the dark and often terrifying passage of my life I came to believe certain things about myself.

The time capsule is a characteristically twentieth-century invention: a tragicomic time machine. It lacks an engine, goes nowhere, sits and waits. It sends our cultural bits and bobs traveling into the future at snail's pace. At our pace, that is. They travel through time in parallel with the rest of us, at our standard velocity of one second per second, one day per day... Builders of time capsules are projecting something forward into the future, but it's mainly their own imaginations. Like people who buy lottery tickets for the momentary dreams of riches, they get to dream of a time to come when, though long dead, they will be the cynosure of all eyes... Clear the airwaves: Dr. Thornwell Jacobs, Oglethorpe University, AD 1936, has something to say.

We try so hard to make these little time capsules. Memories strung up just so, like holiday lights, casting the perfect glow in the perfect tones. But that picking and choosing what to look at, what to put on display—that’s not the true nature of remembering. Memory is a mean thing, slicing at you from the harshest angles, dipping your consciousness into the wrong colors again and again. A moment of humiliation, or devastation, or absolute rage, to be rewound and replayed, spinning a thread that wraps around the brain, knotting itself into something of a noose. It won’t exactly kill you, but it makes you feel the squeeze of every horrible moment. How do you stop it? How do you work the mind free? I wish I could command my brain, say to it: Here. Go ahead. Unspool, and let the memories go. Let them be gone.

You look…exactly the same.” Gulp. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? “I do?” I get up on my tiptoes. “I think I’ve grown at least an inch since eighth grade.” And my boobs are at least a little bigger. Not much. Not that I want John to notice--I’m just saying. “No, you look…just like how I remembered you.” John Ambrose reaches out, and I think he’s trying to hug me but he’s only trying to take my bag from me, and there’s a brief but strange dance that mortifies me but he doesn’t seem to notice. “So thanks for inviting me.” “Thanks for coming.” “Do you want me to take this stuff up for you?” “Sure,” I say. John takes the bag from me and looks inside. “Oh, wow. All of our old snacks! Why don’t you climb up first and I’ll pass it to you.” So that’s what I do: I scramble up the ladder and he climbs up behind me. I’m crouched, arms outstretched, waiting for him to pass me the bag. But when he gets halfway up the ladder, he stops and looks up at me and says, “You still wear your hair in fancy braids.” I touch my side braid. Of all the things to remember about me. Back then, Margot was the one who braided my hair. “You think it looks fancy?” “Yeah. Like…expensive bread.” I burst out laughing. “Bread!” “Yeah. Or…Rapunzel.” I get down on my stomach, wriggle over to the edge, and pretend like I’m letting down my hair for him to climb. He climbs up to the top of the ladder and passes me the bag, which I take, and then he grins at me and gives my braid a tug. I’m still lying down but feel an electric charge like he’s zapped me. I’m suddenly feeling very anxious about the worlds that will be colliding, the past and the present, a pen pal and a boyfriend, all in this little tree house. Probably I should have thought this through a bit better. But I was so focused on the time capsule, and the snacks, and the idea of it--old friends coming back together to do what we said we’d do. And now here we are, in it. “Everything okay?” John asks, offering me his hand as I rise to my feet. I don’t take his hand; I don’t want another zap. “Everything’s great,” I say cheerily. “Hey, you never sent back my letter,” he says. “You broke an unbreakable vow.” I laugh awkwardly. I’d kind of been hoping he wouldn’t bring that up. “It was too embarrassing. The things I wrote. I couldn’t bear the thought of another person seeing it.” “But I already saw it,” he reminds me.

No, I don't really think there's a "golden age" of anything. I think now is pretty fucking amazing. I'm probably the least nostalgic person. I don't think there was a golden time for music. There's always been people making great music standing here on Earth and saying, "This is where I stand, and this is what I've got to say, and this is how I feel about it." The industry of music has always been lousy. The stuff on the top, the stuff that rises, it's always been bad, right from when we first started getting into music. You just have to dig deeper. You have to look inward and outward. And then, when you make music, you can't just copy people. You can't just say, "This is how this was done, I'll do the same." You have to find what makes it good and kind of drag that kicking and screaming into your own world. Music is like a time capsule with no bearing. It doesn't really carry a message from the time when it was made. 1930s blues music doesn't really give you a sense of what it was like to live in America in 1930. It relates to your heartbeat now and where you are and what you're doing. I've said this in other interviews, but when I listen to Iggy Pop singing "Search And Destroy," it has no reference to Vietnam in my world. How could it? I'm from a small town in the middle of England. That's how music works. Looking back in music isn't even really looking back. Music's traveled to where you are.

Many articles speculate about Tom’s retreat from public life. He’s an organization helmed by committee, a criminal, a group of women. Much has been written about why he won’t permit interpretation of Parakeet. That he believes in time-capsule art, that he is a misogynist maestro. They’re all wrong. Baffled companies who want to produce this odd, violent heart of a play are not being held to the specifications of a playwright, but of a little girl. We were hypersensitive, sickly kids, constantly made fun of in school. Every day my classmates reminded me I was different though there was little chance I’d forget. They’d mark my out-loud face as if doing me a favor: Your eyebrows are joined, they’d say. Your calves are not shaped the way mine are. Your mother looks like an Arab spy. My mother demanded silence, but when we were together Tom and I were feral. One night, frustrated by our noise, she booted the door down and hurled handfuls of my stuffed animals into trash bags. Tom stood between her and them and widened his stance so he could not be moved. My mother backhanded him against the corner of a bureau.

The seventies were crazy everywhere, but crazier in Los Angeles. It was the era of freewheeling drugs and sex, the rag end of the sixties. I refer to sprees, to strange couplings and triplings, to nights that started with beer and wine and ended with cocaine and capsules, to debaucheries too various to chronicle. In a sense, we were all Robert Mitchum, smoking rope in bed with two girls while the sun was still noon high. We thought it was normal. You would walk into a house for a pool party, and there, on the cocktail table in the center of the living room, as if it were nuts or cooked shrimp, would be a platter of cocaine. We did it because we were stupid, because we did not know the danger. When I talk about my drug years, I am talking about twenty-four months in the middle of the seventies. I was in the rock and roll world, which meant I was around the stuff all the time. Of course, it was more than mere proximity. I was fun when I was high, talkative and all-encompassing. I could go forever, never be done talking. To some extent, I was really self-medicating, using the drugs to skate over issues in my own life. The fact is, money and success had come so fast, while I was away doing something else, not paying attention, that, when I finally realized where I was and just what I had, I could not understand it. There was this voice in my head, saying, Who do you think you are? What do you think you did? You are a fraud! You don’t deserve any of this! I tortured myself, and let the anxiety well up, then beat back the anxiety with the drugs, on and on, until one day, I stood up and said, “Screw it. That’s over. I’m done.” No rehab, no counseling, nothing like that. Just a moment of clarity, in which I saw myself from the outside, the mess I was making, the waste. I was slipping, not working as hard as I used to. I started leaving the office early on Fridays, then skipping Fridays altogether. Then I started leaving early on Thursdays, then arriving late on Mondays. I was letting myself go. Then one day, I just decided, It has to stop. I threw away the pills and bottles, took a cold shower, had a barbershop shave, and stepped into the cool of Sunset Boulevard, and began fresh. Maybe it had to do with my family situation. I was a father again.

Garlic[43] : This amazing aromatic plant, the most powerful antioxidant known, has been used to treat and cure illnesses through the ages. Even Hippocrates recommended consuming large amounts of crushed garlic as a remedy. A study in China finds that consuming raw garlic regularly cuts the risk of lung cancer in half, and previous studies have suggested that it may also ward off other malignant tumors, such as colon cancer. It is best to let it sit for at least fifteen minutes after the pods have been crushed. This time is needed to release an enzyme (allicin) that produces antifungal and anti-cancer compounds. Alliates (garlic, onion, chives) and their cousins (leek, shallot) improve liver detoxification and therefore help protect our genes from mutations. I take it in three forms: tablet, powder and fresh. I use it in almost all my dishes and sauces, it is the anti-cancer food par excellence. Vegetables[44] : To avoid disease, nothing like a diet rich in raw and organic vegetables. The daily intake of vegetables would prevent cancers of the mouth, pharynx, esophagus, lung, stomach, breast, colon and rectum. I eat it abundantly; you could even say that it has become my staple food. I eat of course all the cabbage, garlic, onion, pepper but also asparagus, mushrooms, leek, cucumber, scallions (green onions), zucchini, celery, all salads, spinach, endives, pickles, radishes, green beans, parsley and aromatic herbs. At first, I ate cooked tomatoes but stopped because they contain too much sugar. Omega 3 :   Omega 3, in cancer, are anti-inflammatory. Omega 6 or linoleic acids (found in sunflower and peanut oils) are inflammatory. You must always have an omega 3 / omega 6 ratio favorable to omega 3. This is why I take capsules of this fatty acid in addition to eating sardines and anchovies[45]. An inflammatory environment is conducive to the formation and proliferation of cancer cells. To restore the balance, it is necessary to consume more foods rich in omega 3 such as fatty fish, rather small ones because of mercury pollution (sardines, anchovies, mackerel, herring), organic eggs or eggs from hens fed with flax, chia seeds and flax seeds, avocados, almonds, olive oil. These good fatty acids help in the prevention of several cancers including breast, prostate, mouth and skin.

If only she knew how much I’m holding back. All the words that I don’t say. Instead, I swallow the words whole, and the letters are pointy on their corners and sharp on their edges and they hurt going down. They stay there inside of me and make my stomach ache. Sometimes I think that if someone cut me open, the words would really be there. Like a whale that consumed too much garbage, and now her body is nothing but a time capsule for all the things humans throw away.

eye combination my mother always made a fuss about. Maybe that’s why my skin crawled every time someone commented on how attractive a couple we were. It was more a reflection on me than us. He lifts his hand and moves my hair off my forehead. The gesture is intimate, but I’m too stunned to stop him. He brushes his thumb over the scar on my temple. “I was worried about you. You wouldn’t let me see you in the hospital. Or after?” A sigh escapes before I can school my features into something a little more… regretful. “Well, I was embarrassed.” That’s a lie. I just didn’t want to face whatever the fuck emotional roller coaster I was riding the last six months. Seriously. My life went from normal to shit in a split second. Adding Jack—and the life that I thought I had, the one that seemed to go up in a puff of smoke when I woke up in the hospital—would’ve been more pain than I was ready to accept. “Violet!” I step away from Jack, ignoring his wounded expression, and turn to my other friends. Half the dance team is here, and they all crowd around me. Someone pulls at my coffee-stained blouse, and another swoops in to clean the floor where my cup dropped. I had forgotten, in my Jack-shock. “Lucky it wasn’t hot.” Willow nudges me. “Luck and I aren’t on speaking terms.” She visited faithfully every day while I was stuck in the hospital. Kept me sane, kept me looped in to the gossip. She’s the only one who knows what I went through, and I’m keeping it that way. I’m not in the habit of airing my dirty laundry—or my newfound nightmares. I’ve been plagued by bright lights, crunching metal, and snapping bones. She rolls her eyes at my luck comment. “You need to change. We’re taking you out.” Oh boy. My first instinct is to say no, but honestly? I could use a bit of normalcy. My therapist—the talk one, not the physical one—said something about getting back into a routine. Well, for the last two years, I’ve gone out with my girls on Friday nights. There’s nothing more normal than that. I’m actually looking forward to it. She leads the way to the bedroom I haven’t been in since… before. She steps aside and lets me do the honors. Opening the door is like cracking into a time capsule. Fucking devastating. Willow stands behind me, her hand on my shoulder, as I stare around at the remnants of the person I used to be. If I wasn’t aware of how different I was after six months away, I am now. Mentally, physically. There are still clothes that I left on the floor. My chair is pulled out and covered in clothes. There’s a pile of books that I had planned to conquer over the summer in the center of the desk. My bed is made. “I kept the door open

We go to the parlor on Stormy’s floor to sit and thaw out. There’s only one reading light on, so it’s dim and quiet. All the residents are in their apartments for the night, it seems. It feels strange to be here without Stormy and everyone, like being at school at night. We sit on the fancy French-style couch, and I take off my boots so my feet can get warm. I wriggle my toes to get the feeling back. “Too bad we can’t start a fire,” John says, stretching his arms and looking at the fireplace. “Yeah, it’s fake,” I say. “There must be some sort of nursing-home law about fireplaces, I bet…” My voice trails off as I see Stormy, in her silky kimono, tiptoeing out of her apartment and down the hall. To Mr. Morales’s apartment. Oh my God. “What?” John asks, and I slap my hand over his mouth. I duck down low in my seat and slide all the way off the couch to the floor. I pull him down next to me. We stay down until I hear the door click closed. He whispers, “What is it? What did you see?” Sitting up, I whisper back, “I don’t know if you want to know.” “Dear God. What? Just tell me.” “I saw Stormy in her red kimono, sneaking into Mr. Morales’s apartment.” John chokes. “Oh my God. That’s…” I give him sympathetic eyes. “I know. Sorry.” Shaking his head, he leans back against the couch, his legs stretched out long in front of him. “Wow. This is rich. My great-grandmother has a way more active sex life than I do.” I can’t resist asking, “So then…I guess, have you not had sex with that many girls?” Hastily I say, “Sorry, I’m a very inquisitive person.” I scratch my cheek. “Some might say nosy. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” “No, I’ll answer. I’ve never had sex with anybody.” “What!” I can’t believe it. How can that be? “Why are you so shocked?” “I don’t know, I guess I thought all guys were doing it.” “Well, I’ve only had one girlfriend, and she was religious, so we never did it, which was fine. Anyway, trust me, not all guys are having sex. I’d say the majority aren’t.” John pauses. “What about you?” “I’ve never done it either,” I say. He frowns, confused. “Wait, I thought you and Kavinsky…” “No. Why would you think that?” Oh. The video. I swallow. I thought maybe he was the one person who hadn’t seen it. “So you’ve seen the hot tub video, huh.” John hesitates and then, says, “Yeah. I didn’t know it was you at first, not until after the time capsule party when I figured out you guys were together. Some guy showed it to me in homeroom, but I didn’t look at it that closely.” “We were just kissing,” I say, ducking my head. “I wish you hadn’t seen it.” “Why? Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me at all.” “I guess I liked the thought of you looking at me a certain kind of way. I feel like people see me differently now, but you still thought of me as the old Lara Jean. Do you know what I mean?” “That is how I see you,” John says. “You’re still the same to me. I’ll always see you that way, Lara Jean.

With just one departure daily, the station is mostly empty. But Mr. Shiekhly says that in his mind’s eye he can still see the girl, and everything else that once made the station such a special place to him: a nice restaurant over there; groups of men playing backgammon and dominoes; the officers’ lounge that was, he recalls, “beautiful and full of wood.” The station itself is a time capsule. The ticket booths in the circular room are identified by destinations long out of reach to passenger trains. One sign reads, “Booking for Mosul Train.” Another booth is where passengers once bought tickets to Turkey, Syria and Anbar Province. “Now you have to take tanks or jet fighters to get to these places,” said Ahmed Abdulrahman, 50, who has worked at the station since the late 1970s.

At 5.30 a.m. Washington time, the Moscow News radio channel announced Gagarin’s successful landing and recovery. An alert journalist called NASA’s launch centre in Florida to ask if America could catch up. Press officer John ‘Shorty’ Powers was trying to catch a few hours’ rest in his cramped office cot. He and many other NASA staffers were working 16-hour days in the lead-up to astronaut Alan Shepard’s first flight in a Mercury capsule. When the phone at his side rang in the pre-dawn silence, he was irritable and unprepared. ‘Hey, what is this!’ he yelled into the phone. ‘We’re all asleep down here!’ Next morning the headlines read: ‘SOVIETS PUT MAN IN SPACE. SPOKESMAN SAYS US ASLEEP.

I suggested she tell him she really likes his new look, if she can say it with a straight face.

For me, radio was a space for reflection. On the air, I submerged myself in music and literature. I listened along with my audience; I read to myself and to them, I discussed all kinds of ideas with total strangers. It was the perfect medium: intense, warm, interactive, and highly volatile. From my very first session in the broadcast studio, I felt like I was in a time capsule, a sensory-deprivation chamber. It was a protective bubble where nothing and no one could touch me. The semidarkness, the illuminated panel, and the on-air light combined to create a cozy, womblike environment, a sort of cosmic solitude. I had the sensation of floating in space, completely isolated from the real world. My only human contact was with the disembodied voices of callers. Everything seemed dusted with an ethereal—yes, I'll say it—ghostly quality. I could touch and hear the whole world, while no one could be sure of my existence; I was just one more voice in the teeming concert of hertzian waves. It was a land of the blind, where we were guided by sounds and voices, and space took the shape our words gave it. We transformed it with every description, comment, insult, or digression. It was almost like death, floating aimlessly at night, listening to spectral voices that in turn spoke about specters, indifferent to their own condition.

Hitler promises that the nervous years have ended, that with him, the German way of life will be determined for the next thousand years. He promises national health care, government schooling, partnerships between the government and businesses. He says he will inject government funds into social welfare and the industrial sector, as well as the military.

Donald was stunned. They must be making a sensaysh out of it, to sacrifice so much time from even their ten-minute condensed-news cycle! His Mark II confidence evaporated. Euphoric from his recent eptification, he had thought he was a new person, immeasurably better equipped to affect the world. But the implications of that expensive plug stabbed deep into his mind. If State were willing to go to these lengths to maintain his cover identity, that meant he was only the visible tip of a scheme involving perhaps thousands of people. State just didn’t issue fiats to a powerful corporation like English Language Relay Satellite Service without good reason. Meaningless phrases drifted up, dissociated, and presented themselves to his awareness, all seeming to have relevance to his situation and yet not cohering. My name is Legion. I fear the Greeks, even bearing gifts. The sins of the fathers shall be visited on the children. Say can you look into the seeds of time? Was this the face that launch’d a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Struggling to make sense of these fragments, he finally arrived at what his subconscious might be trying to convey. The prize, these days, is not in finding a beautiful mistress. It’s in having presentable prodgies. Helen the unattainable is in the womb, and every mother dreams of bearing her. Now her whereabouts is known. She lives in Yatakang and I’ve been sent in search of her, ordered to bring her back or say her beauty is a lie—if necessary to make it a lie, with vitriol. Odysseus the cunning lurked inside the belly of the horse and the Trojans breached the wall and took it in while Laocoön and his sons were killed by snakes. A snake is cramped around my forehead and if it squeezes any tighter it will crack my skull. When the purser next passed, he said, “Get me something for a headache, will you?” He knew that was the right medicine to ask for, yet it also seemed he should have asked for a cure for bellyache, because everything was confused: the men in the belly of the wooden horse waiting to be born and wreak destruction, and the pain of parturition, and Athena was born of the head of Zeus, and Time ate his children, as though he were not only in the wooden horse of the express but was it about to deliver the city to its enemy and its enemy to the city, a spiralling wild-rose branch of pain with every thorn a spiky image pricking him into other times and other places. Ahead, the walls. Approaching them, the helpless stupid Odysseus of the twenty-first century, who must also be Odin blind in one eye so as not to let his right hand know what his left was doing. Odinzeus, wielder of thunderbolts, how could he aim correctly without parallax? “No individual has the whole picture, or even enough of it to make trustworthy judgments on his own initiative.” Shalmaneser, master of infinite knowledge, lead me through the valley of the shadow of death and I shall fear no evil … The purser brought a white capsule and he gulped it down. But the headache was only a symptom, and could be fixed.

At the time, Fisher was focused on designing strategies that could prevent nuclear war, and he had noticed a troubling fact. Any sitting president would have access to launch codes that could kill millions of people but would never actually see anyone die because he would always be thousands of miles away. “My suggestion was quite simple,” he wrote in 1981. “Put that [nuclear] code number in a little capsule, and then implant that capsule right next to the heart of a volunteer. The volunteer would carry with him a big, heavy butcher knife as he accompanied the President. If ever the President wanted to fire nuclear weapons, the only way he could do so would be for him first, with his own hands, to kill one human being. The President says, ‘George, I’m sorry but tens of millions must die.’ He has to look at someone and realize what death is—what an innocent death is. Blood on the White House carpet. It’s reality brought home. “When I suggested this to friends in the Pentagon they said, ‘My God, that’s terrible. Having to kill someone would distort the President’s judgment. He might never push the button.

#Nitric Boost Ultra Reviews 2025: Consumer Reports Complaints.# A remarkable formula designed to support sexual performance through a powerhouse of exceptional nutrients, chosen for their potential to support healthy erection and improve overall energy levels. It works by helping the body generate Nitric Oxide (NO), which enhances blood flow by relaxing and expanding blood vessels, leading to a firm, long-lasting erection. Ingredients include Beet Root Powder, Horny Goat Weed, Dong Quai, Ginkgo Biloba Powder, L-Arginine, L-Citrulline DL-Malate, D-Aspartic Acid, and Niacin. The product is natural, plant-based, non-GMO, easy to swallow, has no stimulants, and is non-habit forming. It comes with a 180-day money-back guarantee. ✅Click Here To Visit – Official Website If you’re searching for Nitric Boost Ultra Reviews in August 2025, you’re probably feeling tired, low on energy, or frustrated with slow workout results—and you’re not alone. Nitric Boost Ultra is one of the most talked-about circulation and performance supplements this year. Touted as a natural nitric oxide booster, it claims to increase blood flow, improve stamina, and help with everything from heart health to bedroom confidence. But is it really worth your money? Or just another overhyped powder in a fancy jar? To be honest, we were skeptical at first. With so many copycat supplements flooding the market, it’s easy to get burned. But after weeks of researching ingredients, scanning consumer complaints, and checking user results, we found some interesting truths. Some users say it’s a total game-changer. Others complain about weak results, shipping delays, or refund hassles. So the big question is: Does Nitric Boost Ultra really work—or is it just clever marketing? Table of Contents Nitric Boost Ultra Overview Feature Nitric Boost Ultra Summary Our Editorial Notes Product Name Nitric Boost Ultra Trademarked formula trending in 2025 Form Capsules (dietary supplement) Easy-to-use, no mixing or measuring Target Audience Men over 30 with low energy, poor stamina, or weak circulation Boost nitric oxide for better blood flow, stamina, energy, and male vitality. Main Purpose Boost nitric oxide for better blood flow, stamina, energy, and male vitality Not a stimulant—acts via blood vessel dilation Key Ingredients L-Arginine, L-Citrulline, Beet Root, Horny Goat Weed, Ginkgo Biloba, Niacin Strong base formula with vasodilation support Main Benefits Increased energy, improved circulation, enhanced physical performance, better endurance Results vary—best seen after 3–4 weeks Usage Instructions 2 capsules daily, preferably with food and water Take consistently for best results Expected Results Timeline 2–4 weeks for mild changes, 6–8 weeks for full effects Patience required—this isn’t instant Safety & Side Effects Generally well-tolerated; some may experience mild headaches or stomach upset Take consistently for the best results Price & Package Options $69 (1 bottle), $177 (3 bottles), $294 (6 bottles) Bulk discounts offer better value Refund Policy 180-day full money-back guarantee One of the longest risk-free windows in the category Our Rating ⭐ 8.4/10 Strong formula, clean label, but results can take time Our Verdict A reliable nitric oxide booster for men seeking circulation and stamina support Not for quick fixes, but worth trying if used consistently Official Website [Click here to visit] It may also benefit women needing circulation support What Is Nitric Boost Ultra? Feeling tired, sluggish, or with poor circulation? Nitric Boost Ultra can help—naturally boost your body’s nitric oxide production.

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What is the best brand for biotin? NUTRAHARMONY(My experience with ) I’ve tried different biotin supplements over the last few years, and I kept returning to NUTRAHARMONY because the formulas felt clean, practical, and genuinely supportive for hair, skin, and nails. What I appreciated most is that the brand offers multiple formats, so you can choose what fits your routine instead of forcing yourself into one type. The classic Biotin with Collagen & Keratin was the first I used. It’s a straightforward daily capsule, and within a few weeks I noticed less hair breakage and stronger nails. It became the “steady base” supplement for me. Later, I tried the liquid biotin with collagen. It absorbs quickly and is perfect when you want something you can take without pills. It felt lighter on digestion, and the routine was simple to stick to. The gummies turned out to be a pleasant surprise. They’re easy to take, taste good, and still support hair and nail health thanks to the combination of biotin and collagen. They’re great for days when you want a gentler, more enjoyable option without losing consistency. I wouldn’t say there is one universally best type of biotin — it depends on your lifestyle and what’s easiest to take regularly. But in terms of quality, softness, and noticeable results over time, NUTRAHARMONY has been the brand that worked best for me personally. If you're comparing biotin supplements and want something reliable without unnecessary additives, these three options may help you choose the format that feels most comfortable.

MITOLYN REVIEWS and ComplaintS: An Honest Customer 2025 Review! (iu07) ## Is Mitolyn Right For You? An In-Depth 2024 Review Are you looking for a natural way to boost your energy and support your weight loss goals? Mitolyn is a dietary supplement that claims to do just that. This review will give you an honest look at Mitolyn, exploring its ingredients, benefits, potential drawbacks, and real customer experiences to help you decide if it's the right choice for you. CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website ### Mitolyn: Key Facts * **Certification:** GMP Approved * **Formulation:** Capsules * **Price/Bottle:** $69 * **Serving/Bottle:** 60 Capsules ### What is Mitolyn? Mitolyn is marketed as a dietary supplement formulated to increase energy levels and aid in weight loss. It aims to support overall health through a blend of natural ingredients designed to boost metabolism and enhance blood flow. Mitolyn comes in easy-to-swallow capsules. The manufacturer states that the formula is 100% organic and free from GMOs. Mitolyn is produced in the USA, adhering to stringent regulations in an FDA-registered and GMP-certified facility. ### The Science Behind Mitolyn: Key Ingredients One of the most important things to consider when choosing a supplement is its ingredients. Mitolyn contains a blend of ingredients that are believed to support energy production and weight management. Here's a closer look at some of the key components: * **Green Tea Extract:** A popular ingredient known for its potential metabolism-boosting properties. It may help burn fat and increase energy levels. * **Garcinia Cambogia:** Often included in weight loss supplements, Garcinia Cambogia is believed to help reduce appetite and inhibit fat production. * **L-Carnitine:** An amino acid that plays a role in fat metabolism and may provide energy during physical activity. * **B Vitamins:** Essential for energy production and overall health and well-being. This combination of ingredients suggests that Mitolyn aims to provide a comprehensive approach to boosting energy and supporting metabolic function. ### My Experience with Mitolyn Like many people, I was looking for a natural energy supplement to help me get through busy days and complement my weight loss efforts. Mitolyn seemed like a promising option. Over time, I noticed some positive effects: * **1-3 Months:** Increased energy levels. I felt a noticeable boost in daily energy. * **4-6 Months:** Improved focus. I experienced better concentration and mental clarity. * **7-12 Months:** Better sleep. My sleep patterns became more consistent. Overall, my experience with Mitolyn has been positive. I felt more energized and able to tackle my daily activities. ### What Others Are Saying: Real User Reviews It's important to consider the experiences of other users when evaluating a supplement. Here's a sampling of Mitolyn reviews: * **Mike R., 45 (4/5):** "I've noticed a significant boost in my energy levels, especially during workouts. Helps me power through my sessions!" * **Carly B., 34 (5/5):** "Fantastic for weight loss! I’ve struggled for years, but with Mitolyn, I’ve finally seen results. Highly recommend!" * **Jessica L., 29 (3/5):** "It worked for a while, but I did experience some mild side effects, like a slight jitteriness. Not too bad, but just be wary if you’re sensitive." * **David T., 36 (4/5):** "Great metabolism support! I’ve paired it with

MITOLYN REVIEWS and ComplaintS: An Honest Customer 2025 Review! (0w5w) MITOLYN Reviews: Does This Supplement Really Work for Energy and Weight Loss? Are you looking for a natural way to boost your energy and support your weight loss goals? Mitolyn is a dietary supplement that claims to do both. But does it live up to the hype? This in-depth review will explore the key features, ingredients, user experiences, and potential drawbacks of Mitolyn to help you make an informed decision. CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website What is Mitolyn? Mitolyn is a dietary supplement formulated to enhance energy levels and aid in weight management. It’s designed to support healthy blood flow and overall well-being using a blend of natural ingredients. Key Features: * Capsule form for easy consumption. * Formulated with all-natural ingredients. * Free from GMOs. * Manufactured in the USA in an FDA-registered and GMP-certified facility. Mitolyn Highlights: * All-Natural Formula: Combines amino acids, vitamins, herbal extracts, and minerals. * Nutritional Support: Offers health benefits beyond just energy and weight loss. * Price: $69 per bottle (60 capsules) * Certifications: GMP Approved My Experience with Mitolyn Like many, I was initially drawn to Mitolyn because I was searching for a natural energy supplement that could also support my metabolism. I wanted something to complement my weight loss efforts and provide a sustained energy boost throughout the day. Mitolyn Ingredients: What’s Inside? Understanding the ingredients is crucial. Here's a breakdown of the primary components: * Green Tea Extract: Known for its metabolism-boosting and fat-burning properties. * Garcinia Cambogia: Believed to reduce appetite and inhibit fat production. * L-Carnitine: An amino acid that aids in fat metabolism and energy production. * B Vitamins: Essential for energy production and overall health. This combination aims to provide a balanced approach to increasing energy and supporting metabolic functions. My Results After 12 Months Here’s a summary of my personal experience with Mitolyn over a year: | Time Period | Perceived Effect | Notes | | :---------- | :----------------- | :------------------------------------------- | | 1-3 months | Increased Energy | Felt a noticeable boost in daily energy. | | 4-6 months | Improved Focus | Noticed better concentration and mental clarity. | | 7-12 months | Better Sleep | Sleep patterns became more consistent. | Overall, my experience with Mitolyn has been positive. Consistent use led to heightened energy levels, allowing me to be more active throughout the day. Real User Reviews of Mitolyn Here's what other users are saying about Mitolyn: * Mike R., 45 (4/5): "I've noticed a significant boost in my energy levels, especially during workouts." * Carly B., 34 (5/5): "Fantastic for weight loss! I’ve finally seen results. Highly recommend!" * Jessica L., 29 (3/5): "It worked for a while, but I did experience some mild side effects, like a slight jitteriness." * David T., 36 (4/5): "Great metabolism support! I’ve paired it with a balanced diet and feel lighter and more energetic." * Samantha W., 27 (5/5): "I was skeptical at first, but it truly helped with my cravings. I’m managing my weight better than ever!" The majority of reviews are positive, suggesting that Mitolyn