Tully Quotes

Back in Washington, alone in the late afternoon of December 7, a chastened Franklin Roosevelt considered the situation.  He may have wondered how things had gone so terribly wrong.  But what might have been was now hindsight—the United States was at war and was in it to win. He spoke quietly to his secretary, Grace Tully. “Sit down, Grace. I’m going before Congress tomorrow. I’d like to dictate my message. It will be short.” 

The mightiest kings have had their minions; Great Alexander loved Hephaestion, The conquering Hercules for Hylas wept; And for Patroclus, stern Achilles drooped. And not kings only, but the wisest men: The Roman Tully loved Octavius, Grave Socrates, wild Alcibiades.

Being calm is a skill that starts with proper breathing. Dr. Tully taught me that breathing deeply and regularly is not only the key to remaining calm, but also instantly connects us to a higher vibration.

Catelyn had never liked this godswood. She had been born a Tully, at Riverrun far to the south, on the Red Fork of the Trident. The godswood there was a garden, bright and airy, where tall redwoods spread dappled shadows across tinkling streams, birds sang from hidden nests, and the air was spicy with the scent of flowers.

The shy girl she had known at Riverrun had grown into a woman who was by turns proud, fearful, cruel, dreamy, reckless, timid, stubborn, vain, and, above all inconstant.

Tully/Ysolde: "Brom?" I asked, releasing his head. He reeled backwards for a moment, his eyes huge. "Are you all right?" Brom: "I couldn't breathe," he said, giving my boobs a wary glance.

It hurts when you lose a friend to death, it hurts even more when you lose a friend still living.

Madeleine Tully turned fourteen yesterday, but today she did not turn anything. Oh, wait. She turned a page.

The past isn't really the past," Tully said. "It's just music, books, and films.

What's the hurry?" he said "This door is locked," Tully told him. "So?" "Can you pick a lock?" "I'll give it a try." "Be my guest" Tully said, stepping to one side. Pap blew the lock away with the shotgun. He pushed the door open with the barrel.

The Lannisters may have their pride,” she told Mya, “but the Tullys are born with better sense.

She sighed. “I wish I had their faith. Crimson is a Lannister color.” “That thing’s not crimson,” Ser Brynden said. “Nor Tully red, the mud red of the river. That’s blood up there, child, smeared across the sky.” “Our blood or theirs?” “Was there ever a war where only one side bled?

My first rule of war, Cat-never give the enemy his wish

I will not go back. I may stumble, but I will not fall.

If everyone in the world took care of each other the way folks do out on the trail, and if everyone approached each day with as much hope and optimism as hikers do, the world would be a better place.

There is no more fertile ground for revolution than the educated unemployed

We can now give you a biological reason why cramming doesn’t work,” says Dr. Tully. The best way to prepare for a final exam is to mentally review the material periodically during the day, until the material becomes part of your long-term memory. This may also explain why emotionally charged memories are so vivid and can last for decades. The CREB repressor gene is like a filter, cleaning out useless information. But if a memory is associated with a strong emotion, it can either remove the CREB repressor gene or increase levels of the CREB activator gene.

A real Irishman will give everything of himself--except that kernel of his soul which makes him a mystery to other peoples.

Ingersoll is with Homer and Tully and Shakespeare and Burns.

Everyone feels that way, that we will never stop loving someone, that we will never love anyone else, that we can never feel more than we do right now, but yet... we do, somehow, stop loving. We do get over it. Don't we? We have to. We must. Otherwise, how could we go on?

Plundering and stealing, cheating and lying, laboring, fighting and loving; taking all we could and returning little, we went our careless and irresponsible ways, with laughter in our hearts and sneers on our lips - as anti-social as hyenas who howled at the changes in the weather.

Flash Floods are about as predictable as a crazy dream after one too many fish tacos - one minutes you're fine, and the next minute a moose is floating past you wearing a fishing hat and ladies' pajamas.

Dear Tully-- I know you won't be able to stand my fucking funeral. You're not the star. I hope you at least had the photos of me airbrushed. There are so many things I should say to you, but in our lifetime we've said them all. Take care of Johnny and the kids for me, okay? Teach the boys how to be gentlemen and Marah how to be strong. When they're ready, give them my journal and tell them about me when they ask. The truth, too. I want them to know it all. It's going to be hard on you, now. That's one of the things I regret the most. So, here's what I have to say in my beyond-the-grave letter (very dramatic, don't you think?): I know you'll be thinking that I left you, but it's not true. All you have to do is remember Firefly Lane, and you'll find me. There will always be a TullyandKate. BFF <3 Kate

Oh, I can see that,” Catelyn said. “Lord Tully is fond of song, I hear. No doubt you’ve been to Riverrun.” “A hundred times,” Marillion the singer said airily. “They keep a chamber for me, and the young lord is like a brother.” Catelyn smiled, wondering what Edmure would think of that. Another singer had once bedded a girl her brother fancied; he had hated the breed ever since. “And Winterfell?” she asked him. “Have you traveled north?” “Why would I?” Marillion asked. “It’s all blizzards and bearskins up there, and the Starks know no music but the howling of wolves.” Distantly, she was aware of the door banging open at the far end of the room.

Ein Zimmer ohne Bücher ist wie ein Körper ohne Seele.

If you had to fall into a woman's arms, my son, why couldn't they have been Margaery Tyrell's?

If there was one thing Tully had always done well, it was to ignore unpleasantness. For most of her life she’d been able to box up bad memories or disappointments and store them deep in the back of her mind, in a place so dark they couldn’t be seen. Sure, she dreamed about the bad times, and woke occasionally in a cold sweat with memories on the oily surface of consciousness, but when daylight came, she pushed those thoughts back into their hiding place and found it easy to forget.

She hadn't realized how much she'd needed a dream, but it had transformed her, changed her from poor motherless and abandoned Tully to a girl poised to take on the world. The goal made her life story unimportant, gave her something to reach for, to hang on to

When I then turned toward the scriptures, they appeared to me to be quite unworthy to be compared with the dignity of Tully. For my inflated pride was repelled by their style, nor could the sharpness of my wit penetrate their inner meaning. Truly they were of a sort to aid the growth of little ones, but I scorned to be a little one and, swollen with pride, I looked upon myself as fully grown.

James Tully, an authority on indigenous rights, spells out the historical implications: land used for hunting and gathering was considered vacant, and ‘if the Aboriginal peoples attempt to subject the Europeans to their laws and customs or to defend the territories that they have mistakenly believed to be their property for thousands of years, then it is they who violate natural law and may be punished or “destroyed” like savage beasts.

Out in the fog, weary, yet buoyant from the drinks, his mind dulled along with his aches and his energy returning, Tully was free of the sense of impending ordeal that had been with him for weeks. He felt whole, self-sufficient, felt his life had at last opened up and that now nothing stood between him and the future's infinite possibilities.

He’s drowning, suffocating under the weight of my darkness and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

Tully shook her head. “Marah, your mother loves you no matter what and she’s proud of you. Believe me, princess, that’s the coolest thing in the world.

Tully Dawson made himself new to the world, and ripe for the glories of that summer, by showing he was unlike his father.

Who you mom is and how she lives her life isn't a reflection of you. You can make your own choices. And there's nothing for you to be ashamed of. But you'll have to dream big, Tully.

It might interest you to know," Tully says, "that there's a reason people build miniatures. Doesn't matter if it's guys laying out model railroads or women decorating dollhouses. It's about control. It's about reinventing reality." [...] "Some people get a lot of satisfaction in creating a little world they can escape to. In making things turn out the way they want, at least in their dreams.

The first time I went out with Gronk in Boston was probably the last time I could go out with him without being recognized. A few of us, including Gronk and Tully Banta-Cain, went out to a club in Boston, and before long Gronk was on the floor, dress shirt unbuttoned down to his stomach, dancing around like a big ogre. People were asking, “Who’s that guy?” I said, “That’s Gronk. You’ll get to know him.

Did You Know That … … my teacher Dr. Tully once told me that the best thing you can do for others, for yourself, and for the world is to be happy? This is the best way to appreciate your blessings and your guides’ support.

Once that would have sent him running. Once that might even have made him cry. Now it only made him angry. He would be a Sworn Brother of the Night’s Watch soon, and face worse dangers than Catelyn Tully Stark. “He’s my brother,”he said.

Pap said, "Lend me those bolt cutters, Bo" "They're in the back of the Explorer." The old man got out the bolt cutter, walked around and snipped one of the leads to the battery on each of the ATV's. The others stood in the darkness watching him, listening to the snip-snip of the bolt cutter. "Not a bad idea," said Dave. "That way is any of them get past us, he's going to be on foot." "There's that," Tully said. "And then there's the fact that the old man loves bolt cutters...

The new-made Lord Quenton had two strong sons and a plump grandson to assure the succession, but as his first wife had been carried off by spotted fever three years earlier, he further agreed to take one of Lord Tully’s daughters as his bride.

The likelihood that anything traumatic or life-changing can or will happen during the time you have your phone turned off is miniscule. If something does happen, the timeframe in which you learn about it will, in all probability, make no difference.

Eloquence, when at its highest pitch, leaves little room for reason or reflection; but addressing itself entirely to the fancy or the affections, captivates the willing hearers, and subdues their understanding. Happily, this pitch it seldom attains. But what a Tully or a Demosthenes could scarcely effect over a Roman or Athenian audience, every Capuchin, every itinerant or stationary teacher can perform over the generality of mankind, and in a higher degree, by touching such gross and vulgar passions.

My dearest Tully— I am so sorry. I know how afraid you are of being alone, of being left behind, but God has His plan for all of us. I would have stayed with you longer if I could have. Your grandfather and I will always be watching out for you from Heaven.

True love doesn't need time to grow. It just needs a heart to take root in." Tully wiped the tears from Libby's face. "And it needs its other half to flourish." She tapped over her heart. "You've taken root in here," she tapped Libby's chest, "and in here is where it will flourish.

He lived in the Hotel Coma--named perhaps for some founder of the town, some California explorer or pioneer, or for some long-deceased Italian immigrant who founded only the hotel itself. Whoever it commemorated, the hotel was a poor monument, and Billy Tully had no intention of staying on.

Today, I am eight hundred and twenty-seven days sober. My name is Jake Tully and I’m an addict. And I’ll always be an addict. I’ll never beat this. But I’ll keep going to meetings, and I’ll talk to my sponsor (who I’m going to ask to marry me), and I’ll fight this until I win. We are going to win.

One of the finest minds I've ever known...even if he was a priest.

The harder you push people to follow, the more they go their own way, but the more acceptance and friendship you offer, the more they fall in line.

Past events leave traces in the memory like an ax chopping wood. Chips fly; they remain where they fall even after the wood has been used to light the stove.

You are not the fucking boss of us, Tully. I’m the boss of us.” “Nope.” I go to the linen press and take out two blankets. “You are the boss when it comes to the sex between us. You’re the…” I narrow my eyes as I think of the right terminology. “You’re the operations manager. Physical contact is the operations.” He screws up his face. “And what the hell are you?

You know what else is forever?” “Dirty diapers.” Kate reached out for Tully’s hand, noticing how cold her friend’s skin was. How could she convince Tully that this was the Y in their lives, the inevitable separation, but not an abandonment? “Us,” she said pointedly. “We’ll be friends through jobs and kids and marriages.” She grinned. “I’m sure I’ll outlast several of your husbands.

They killed Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn and King Robb," she said. "He was our king! He was brave and good, and the Freys murdered him. If Lord Stannis will avenge him, we should join Lord Stannis.

the days of the young, when they gulped the air and lived to see the better world, the grown-up world, when they could not wait for the days to end so that they could get on with the rest of their lives.

Tully starts in again. 'See, the hidden value can go way deeper than sentimental attachment. Sometimes you feel it down to your soul. Like maybe you're the one person who appreciates a work of art that everybody else hates. [...] This thing you treasure, this thing nobody else wants, could also be what you'd call organic. It could be alive. [...] That's what falling in love is, isn't it? Discovering the hidden value in someone.

Later during the Dance, Ser Elmo Tully led the riverlords into battle at Second Tumbleton, but on the side of Queen Rhaenyra rather than King Aegon II, whom his grandsire had favored. The battle proved a victory—at least in part—and soon after, his grandfather finally died, and Ser Elmo became Lord of Riverrun. But he did not long enjoy his station; he died on the march forty-nine days later, leaving his young son, Ser Kermit, to succeed him.

Johnny’s with her now,” Mrs. M. said, touching his shoulder. For the first time in years, Tully felt like an outsider in this family. “I should be with her.” “Don’t you worry, Tully,” Mrs. M. said, watching her closely. “She’ll always need you.” “But things are different now.” “Of course they are. Katie’s married. You girls are on separate paths, but you’ll always be best friends.” Separate paths. There it was; the thing she should have seen but somehow hadn’t.

A crowd of men stood in front of them. Of all ages, with expressions of sex-wonder in their eyes, gazing curiously as men who cannot solve a mystery that populates graveyards and through the ages has sent poets, popes, kings and fools to the junk heap.

[Mary Lamb] Let me ask you something. If you could go anywhere on Earth, where would you go? [Paul Hunham] (chuckling): Oh. Greece. Italy. Egypt, Peru. Carthage. Tunisia now, of course. In college, I started a monograph on Carthage. I’d like to finish that someday. (Sighs.) A monograph is like a book, only shorter. [Mary Lamb] I know what a monograph is. [Angus Tully] Why not just write a book? [Paul Hunham] I’m not sure I have an entire book in me. [Mary Lamb] You can’t even dream a whole dream, can you?

Being Tully’s sister required a very specific skill set. You had to be an animated conversationalist (Tully was easily bored) but also a calming influence. You had to be fully invested in whatever she was talking about but be prepared for the fact that Tully would lose interest five minutes later. You had to love her with your whole heart but do so from arm’s length. Getting close to her was like trying to get close to a helicopter—you always ended up windswept and breathless…and occasionally you lost your head.

Bohaterka tej historii chciałaby, żeby wojna i dla niej wreszcie się skończyła. Ale wojna, jeśli już się zacznie, nie ma końca. W każdym razie nie dla każdego. Generałowie podpiszą akt kapitulacji, w niebo wystrzelą kolorowe fajerwerki, szeregowcy upiją się ze szczęścia, że ocaleli. I do cywila. A dla cywili dalej trwa cicha, niewidoczna wojna. Wykrwawiają się w niej samotnie dzień po dniu, noc po nocy, rok po roku. Do końca swoich dni, a niektórzy znacznie dłużej. Wojna, jak masa upadłościowa, przechodzi na własność potomnych.

There’s a price, that’s for sure. For my generation, at least, you couldn’t do this job and be married. You could get married—I did; three times—but you couldn’t stay married. And forget about kids. When a story broke, I needed to be there, period. It could have been my kid’s wedding day and I’d have left. So I’ve lived by myself.” She looked at Tully. “And I’ve loved it. Every damn second. If I end up dying in a nursing home alone, who gives a shit? I was where I wanted to be every second of my life, and I did something that mattered.

Once you’ve made the effort to get off of the consumer merry-go-round and focus on doing and being instead of spending and having, you will have a very strange epiphany: the constant passing parade of advertised products, services, sales, and alleged bargains will look strangely foreign. You will be fine without them.

Wezwałam stroiciela. Po wyjęciu pierwszych klawiszy zobaczyliśmy grubą warstwę kurzu, pod którym leżało przedwojenne pięć groszy. Widocznie wpadły kiedyś między klawisze jak do skarbonki. Leżał tam także biały guzik od męskiej koszuli, celuloidowy, z tęczowym połyskiem. Musiał trzasnąć przy czyimś mankiecie - kiedy właściwie? w latach trzydziestych? czterdziestych? - gdy lewa ręka - ale czyja? brała akord w najniższym rejestrze. Jesienią trzydziestego dziewiątego roku, jak wiadomo przjechali do Warszawy obcy pianiści. Bylo ich wielu i wszyscy potrzebowali kwater w dobrej dzielnicy, umeblowanych, z wygodami, najchetniej wyposażonych w przyzwoite instrumenty. Poprzedni właściciele pianin zostali czym predzej wyrzuceni z domów a instrumenty przeszły na własność nowoprzybyłych. Po stłumieniu powstania, wywołanego przez pianistów miejscowych, przyjezdni pianiści wysadzili im w powietrze dom po domu, ulicę po ulicy. Wyczucie formy wcale im w tym nie przeszkadzało.

Ser Osmund Strong was the king’s fourth Hand. His first had been Lord Orys Baratheon, his bastard half-brother and companion of his youth, but Lord Orys was taken captive during the Dornish War and suffered the loss of his sword hand. Aegon next called on Edmyn Tully, Lord of Riverrun, to take up the Handship. Lord Edmyn served from 7–9 AC, but when his wife died in childbed, he decided that his children had more need of him than the realm, and begged leave to return to the riverlands. Alton Celtigar, Lord of Claw Isle, replaced Tully, serving ably as Hand until his death from natural causes in 17 AC, after which the king named Ser Osmund Strong.

And he had done his own part here at Riverrun without actually ever taking up arms against the Starks or Tullys. Once he found the Blackfish, he would be free to return to King’s Landing, where he belonged. My place is with my king. With my son. Would Tommen want to know that? The truth could cost the boy his throne. Would you sooner have a father or a chair, lad? Jaime wished he knew the answer. He does like stamping papers with his seal. The boy might not even believe him, to be sure. Cersei would say it was a lie. My sweet sister, the deceiver. He would need to find some way to winkle Tommen from her clutches before the boy became another Joffrey. And whilst at that, he should find the lad a new small council too.

It was near evening when he approached the village of Tully-Veolan, with feelings and sentiments how different from those which attended his first entrance. Then life was so new to him that a dull or disagreeable day was one of the greatest misfortunes which his imagination anticipated, and it seemed to him that his time ought only to be consecrated to elegant or amusing study, and relieved by lively society or youthful frolic. Now, how changed, how saddened, yet how elevated was his character, within the course of a very few months! Danger and misfortune are rapid, though severe teachers. 'A sadder and a wiser man,' he felt, in internal confidence and mental dignity, a compensation for the gay dreams which in his case experience had so rapidly dissolved.

Coincidentally the couple who had endowed it had lived in her parents’ building. They had had an eight-year-old with a pretty singing voice who drowned at a Maine summer camp. “You can’t imagine what happened,” said Sarah, but of course Rebecca could imagine. Being a boy soprano had a shorter shelf life than being a supermodel. She could almost see it as Sarah went on and on, the boy with the pale blue eyes, insensible to the hormones coursing through his body as he stood on the stage at Alice Tully Hall. Apparently his choir director had chosen “Old Man River,” sung not in the bass range made famous by Paul Robeson, or in the dialect in which it had been written, but in a high register with crisp consonants. (To be fair to the choir director, he had never

She covered his mouth with her hand. Then she kissed him. For a long silent moment no words were necessary. She pushed away, a dangerous half-smile on her face. Shaking her head in the negative, she spoke softly. “No. Say nothing more. I’ll not have you fog my mind again with honeyed words.” She slowly walked to the door and opened it. “Guards!” she called and in an instant a pair appeared. Pointing at an astonished Laurie, she said, “Don’t let him move! If he tries to leave, sit on him!” Carline vanished from sight down the hall, and the guards turned amused expressions on Laurie. He sighed and sat down quietly upon his bed. A few minutes later the Princess was back, an irritated Father Tully in tow. The old prelate had his night robe hastily gathered about him, as he had been almost ready for sleep. Lyam, looking equally inconvenienced, followed his sister. Laurie fell backward onto the bed with an audible groan as Carline marched into the room and pointed at him. “He told me he wants to marry me!” Laurie sat up. Lyam regarded his sister with an astonished expression. “Should I congratulate him or have him hung? From your tone it’s difficult to tell.

Moje kłopoty zaczęły się nie bardzo dramatycznie, od pomieszania języków.. Od początku należały do mnie dwa komplety słów. Były to pierwsze w moim życiu słowa i nikt mnie nie ostrzegł, żeby z nimi uważać. Dwa światy, w których żyłam jednocześnie, nie stykały się horyzontami, ale skąd miałam o tym wiedzieć? Znałam tylko balansowanie między światami i nie miałam pojęcia, że inni żyją inaczej. Kiedy już rozumiałam, że moje słowa należą do dwóch kompletów, one dalej mi się mieszały jak klocki z różnych pudełek, bo co innego wiedzieć, a co innego utrzymywać porządek. Jedno pudełko dostałam od niego, drugie od niej. Gdyby częściej ze mna rozmawiali, pamiętałabym od kogo który klocek.

Scientists have found that there are two important genes, the CREB activator (which stimulates the formation of new connections between neurons) and the CREB repressor (which suppresses the formation of new memories). Dr. Jerry Yin and Timothy Tully of Cold Spring Harbor have been doing interesting experiments with fruit flies. Normally it takes ten trials for them to learn a certain task (e.g., detecting an odor, avoiding a shock). Fruit flies with an extra CREB repressor gene could not form lasting memories at all, but the real surprise came when they tested fruit flies with an extra CREB activator gene. They learned the task in just one session. “This implies these flies have a photographic memory,” says Dr. Tully. He said they are just like students “who could read a chapter of a book once, see it in their mind, and tell you that the answer is in paragraph three of page two seventy-four.” This effect is not just restricted to fruit flies. Dr. Alcino Silva, also at Cold Spring Harbor, has been experimenting with mice. He found that mice with a defect in their CREB activator gene were virtually incapable of forming long-term memories. They were amnesiac mice. But even these forgetful mice could learn a bit if they had short lessons with rest in between. Scientists theorize that we have a fixed amount of CREB activator in the brain that can limit the amount we can learn in any specific time. If we try to cram before a test, it means that we quickly exhaust the amount of CREB activators, and hence we cannot learn any more—at least until we take a break to replenish the CREB activators. “We can now give you a biological reason why cramming doesn’t work,” says Dr. Tully. The best way to prepare for a final exam is to mentally review the material periodically during the day, until the material becomes part of your long-term memory. This may also explain why emotionally charged memories are so vivid and can last for decades. The CREB repressor gene is like a filter, cleaning out useless information. But if a memory is associated with a strong emotion, it can either remove the CREB repressor gene or increase levels of the CREB activator gene. In the future, we can expect more breakthroughs in understanding the genetic basis of memory. Not just one but a sophisticated combination of genes is probably required to shape the enormous capabilities of the brain. These genes, in turn, have counterparts in the human genome, so it is a distinct possibility that we can also enhance our memory and mental skills genetically. However, don’t think that you will be able to get a brain boost anytime soon. Many hurdles still remain. First, it is not clear if these results apply to humans.

Once inside, he sent every man of his to the parapets, armed with spears and bows and crossbows, promising lands and riches to whichever of them could bring the dragon down. “Had I a daughter, the dragonslayer could claim her hand as well,” Harren the Black proclaimed. “Instead I will give him one of Tully’s daughters, or all three if he likes. Or he may pick one of Blackwood’s whelps, or Strong’s, or any girl born of these traitors of the Trident, these lords of yellow mud.

Aegon granted the ruined castle of Harrenhal and its domains to Ser Quenton Qoherys, his master-at-arms on Dragonstone, but required him to accept Lord Edmyn Tully of Riverrun as his liege lord.

Smeds could see the shadow of the future. Get Old Man Fish and Timmy Locan to kype the spike. Get dumb old Smeds to croak them when they do. Then take the loot and walk. Who is Smeds going to complain to when he has the blood of two men on his hands? That would be just like Tully. Just like him.

Seasmoke’s descent upon Riverrun had at last persuaded that reluctant warrior, Ser Elmo Tully, to call his banners for the queen, in defiance of the wishes of his bedridden grandsire, Lord Grover.

If you waste only one year out of your lifetime, and that to please your father, the wastage is very small,” said Tully.

Your 20s are great, but then your 30s come around the corner like a garbage truck in a 5 a.m

Kate heard the bravado in her friend’s voice and saw it in her eyes. “I prayed for you.” “You did?” Tully asked. “Wow. Thanks.” Kate didn’t know what to say to that. To her, praying was like brushing your teeth before bed, just something you did. Tully

They party all night Friday night, straight through Saturday and Saturday night, and then they sleep enough on Sunday to go to work on Monday. That's what people do when they don't have a direction or passion in their life. And then sooner or later they fuck up, get a chick pregnant, and then they try to grow up and deal with that. That's what the forgotten children of the world do. Your average suburbanite who isn't born rich or supersmart [sic]. A guy who will maybe learn a trade, but he won't like his job. He'll be angry about it. He'll get wasted to block it out, make bad decisions. And with a little bad luck, maybe even go to jail. Or you've been doing OxyContins every weekend, and so someone gives you some heroin, and at that moment it doesn't seem like that bad of an idea, so you stick a needle in your arm. One thing leads to another, and you die. It's that easy.

Usability plays a much wider role in our lives than most people realize. It’s not just about using a website, a piece of software, or the latest technology. Usability is about setting up a tent, relighting a furnace to heat a home, trying to figure out a tax form, or driving an unfamiliar rental car. Usability impacts everyone, every day. It cuts across cultures, age, gender, and economic class.

The decision to release Bhindranwale was taken by the government.

In fact it was the burning of his sermons, not his arrest, which turned Bhindranwale against his political godfather, Zail Singh, and against Mrs Gandhi.

paramilitary police officers believed the Punjab police were on Bhindranwale's

Jagjit Singh Bawa, a Sikh property dealer, said that Bhindranwale used to extort money by threats from his own community too. Bawa once received a letter demanding 20,000 rupees. He

There had been earlier incidents of sacrilege by placing heads and other parts of the anatomy of cows in Hindu temples,

Longowal and the Akali Dal Trinity must also bear their share of the blame for the failure to arrest Bhindranwale.

There is therefore considerable evidence to suggest that Bhindranwale's release was ordered by the Home Minister. He certainly still enjoyed Zail Singh's patronage.

As for alcohol, when India's fervent teetotaller Prime Minister, Morarji Desai, visited Punjab in 1978 the Akali Dal Chief Minister, Badal, announced that in Morarji's honour the Punjab government would introduce a weekly dry day (a day when liquor shops and bars are closed). Morarji Desai replied tartly, 'You need to. Punjab has the highest per capita consumption of alcohol in the country.

Internal Security Act, which gave the police virtually unlimited powers to arrest and detain without trial.

Unfortunately, according to Amarinder Singh, news of the agreement leaked out to Bhajan Lai. He managed to persuade the Prime Minister that settling the water and the Chandigarh disputes without first being seen to consult his state would be disastrous. The Chief Minister of Rajasthan, the other state affected by the water dispute, also happened to be in Delhi on that

Veteran journalists, Mark Tully and Satish Jacob in Amritsar: Mrs Gandhi’s Last Battle recounted how Atwal’s body lay riddled with bullets for two hours before the administration was given permission by the temple authorities to remove the corpse.

Operation Blue Star

By the time of Santokh Singh's death Bhindranwale's men were known to have killed two policemen and ten civilians, attempted to murder a senior civil servant and planted a bomb in the office of a deputy inspector-general of police. There had been several other bomb explosions and attempts to derail trains, one successful. An airliner had been hijacked

Sanjay had crashed his light aircraft when he was stunt-flying over central Delhi.

The former head of the Indian Air Force, Air Chief Marshal Arjun Singh, was told to prove that he was not going to demonstrate at the Games. Lieutenant-General Jagjit Singh Aurora, who took the surrender of the Pakistan army after the Bangladesh war, suffered the same indignity.

Deputy Inspector-General Atwal's body, riddled with bullets, lay in the main entrance to the Sikhs' most sacred shrine for more than two hours before the District Commissioner could persuade the Temple authorities to hand it over.

So it could be that the Deputy Inspector-General of Police was not quite the innocent worshipper he appeared to be on that morning of 25th April.

He gave a grim meaning to this threat by killing three of his Sikh opponents in one week.

The eighty-year-old scholar had openly criticised Bhindranwale for storing arms and ammunition in the Akal Takht, and had said that Bhindranwale's presence in the shrine was sacrilege. The hukmnama against Bhindranwale was never issued.

I think sometimes I feel like I have to run in with the fire hose and the helmet on and save these people. But sometimes the lesson really is: That person can walk down the stairs and out the door themselves. Do I really need to put myself through that emotional experience? Is this of service? Or is this just my ego finding and deriving self-esteem by rescuing somebody?