Usual.suspects Quotes

Adrien, people get killed all the time. Since when is it your job to find out what happened to them?" "I'm not usually suspected of murdering them." "You have been as long as I've known you.

The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.

There's the usual suspects in there, Green Day and The Clash and The Smiths, yeah, but there's also Ella and Frank, even Dino, some Curtis Mayfield and Minor Threat and Dusty Springfield and Belle & Sebastian, and as I flip through his musical life, getting to know his tastes, I must acknowledge that not only am I not frigid, but I also may be multi-orgasmic.

Writers of fiction embellish reality almost without knowing it.

A memory: Isola as a toddler, sugarlump teeth, skin still smelling of milk. Hair that curled without use of an iron and sweet dresses that didn’t matter were dirtied. When she was old enough, she demanded the usual suspects at bedtime: The Little Mermaid, Hansel and Gretel, Beauty and the Beast. Even then, Mother’s contempt for non-Pardieu fairytales was obvious. ‘Hmph,’ she snorted derisively, folding up her knees to perch on Isola’s bed. ‘Listen to me, Isola. The original Beauty’s just an encouragement to young women to accept arranged marriages. What it’s really saying to impressionable girls is, “Don’t worry if your new husband is decades older than you, or ugly, or horrid. If you’re sweet and obedient enough, you might just discover he’s a prince in disguise!’’ Mother’s Most Lasting Advice ‘Never be that girl, Isola. Never pick the beast or the wolf on the off-chance he won’t devour you.

He leapt onto the cushion now and curled into a skein of snoring yellow fur.

There’s a reason you probably haven’t heard much about this aspect of the heartland. This kind of blight can’t be easily blamed on the usual suspects like government or counterculture or high-hat urban policy. The villain that did this to my home state wasn’t the Supreme Court or Lyndon Johnson, showering dollars on the poor or putting criminals back on the street. The culprit is the conservatives’ beloved free-market capitalism, a system that, at its most unrestrained, has little use for smalltown merchants or the agricultural system that supported the small towns in the first place....

Well I believe in God, and the only thing that scares me is Keyser Söze.

Where once witchcraft accusations were the norm, bullying has taken its place. And just as during the Trials, it's not always the usual suspects who get bullied; it can happen to anyone for any reason. But the only way it happens is if the community supports it. Group agreement and group silence are equally as deadly. The moment someone speaks up, it's possible to stop that cycle. It's not the easiest thing to do, but greatness is never without risk. And there is nothing greater in the whole world than kindness - kindness to someone being bullied, kindness to a stranger, kindness to an inured animal. Every act counts.

One former McKinsey consultant wrote anonymously, ¨To those convinced that a secretive cabal controls the world, the usual suspect are Illuminati, Lizard People, or ´globalists.' They are wrong, naturally. There is no secret society shaping every major decision and determining the direction of human history. There is, however, McKinsey & Company.

Who didn’t want to dip into the deep end of someone else’s childhood and meet all the usual suspects—the strict parent, the competitive siblings, the crazy aunt?

It’s easy to believe bad stories and let them color how you see things.

What was the point of trying to be better when other folks always believed the worst about you? Sometimes you just want to give in and be what they believe you are.

The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.”—from the motion picture screenplay The Usual Suspects, by Christopher McQuarrie

[It] could be argued that the favorite sin of Satan would not be vanity, as described in 'Devil's Advocate', or even unbelief in the existence of the devil, as described in 'The Usual Suspects,' but the imagining of a generic, Christless God. The very essence of the Christian faith centers on the identity of Jesus Christ as God's only begotten Son, who alone is the source of salvation and author of faith (Acts 4:12). So it stands to reason that Satan's favorite sin is the belief in a God without Jesus, because that is a god without atonement or redemption and that is what populates hell in the name of heaven.

Eva will be impressed, too. Bet you’re counting on that heading into the weekend.” Damn right. I would need all the points I could earn when I met up with Eva in San Diego. “She’s about to go out of town. And you have to head into the conference room before they get too restless in there. I’ll join you as soon as I can.” He stood. “Yes, I heard. Your mother’s here. Let the wedding insanity begin. Since you’re free this weekend, how about we round up some of the usual suspects at my place tonight? It’s been a while, and your bachelor days are numbered. Well, technically they’re over, but no one else knows that.” And he was bound by attorney-client privilege. It took me a beat to decide. “All right. What time?” “Eight-ish.” I nodded, then caught Scott’s eye. He got

I inspect the notebook of CDs laying on the floor. There’s the usual suspects in there, Green Day and The Clash and The Smiths, yeah, but there’s also Ella and Frank, even Dino, some Curtis Mayfield and Minor Threat and Dusty Springfield and Belle & Sebastian,

There will be a severe backlash against this drift from the usual suspects, but increased sharing is inevitable. There is an honest argument over what to call it, but the technologies of sharing have only begun. On my imgainary Sharing Meter Index we are still at 2 out of 10. There is a whole list of subjects that experts once believed we modern humans would not share—our finances, our health challenges, our sex lives, our innermost fears—but it turns out that with the right technology and the right benefits in the right conditions, we’ll share everything. How

although we know an awful lot of those embroidered, quilted, crocheted, and knitted visions are unrealistic,” Ardis said, “there’s nothing wrong with embellished dreams and hopes. We all have them. I have them. And I need them. They give me respite—from reality, from the world, from Daddy’s increasing infirmity. They give me strength.

Most of what we got was crockery: from exotic crystal bowls to ceramic anomalies. Then, a cross-section of rugs- from a beautiful Kashmiri original to a memorable one with printed dragons and utterly incomprehensible hieroglyphics. Dibyendu (typically) gave us a scrabble set and Runai Maashi: that rocking chair. Yuppie work friends, trying to be unique and aesthetically offbeat, went for wind-chimes but there were really far too many of them by the end. We also got a fantastic number of white and off-white kurtas, jamdani sarees with complementary blouses, no less than nine suitcases, suit pieces, imported condoms, bed-sheets, bed-covers, coffee makers, coffee tables, coffee-table books, poetry books, used gifts (paintings of sunsets and other disasters), three nights and four days in Darjeeling, along with several variations of Durga, Ganesh and all the usual suspects in ivory, china, terracotta, papier-mâché, and what have you. Someone gave us a calendar that looking back, I think, was laudably sardonic. Others gave us money, in various denominations: from eleven to five hundred and one. And in one envelope, came a letter for her that she read in tears in the bathroom.’ ('Left from Dhakeshwari')

But then there are other cases… Cases in which the narrative of disease strays off the expected path, where the usual suspects all seem to have alibis, and the diagnosis is elusive. For these, the doctor must don her deerstalker cap and unravel the mystery. It is in these instances where medicine can rise once again to the level of an art and the doctor-detective must pick apart the tangled strands of illness, understand which questions to ask, recognize the subtle physical findings, and identify which tests might lead, finally, to the right diagnosis.

There have been plenty of people in my life - family, friends, colleagues, lovers, a forecast of the usual suspects that make a person's social circle - but mine has always felt a little bent out of shape. None of the relationships I've ever formed with another human being feel real to me, more like a series of missed connections. People might recognize my face, they may even know my name, but they'll never know the real me. Nobody does. I've always been selfish with the true thoughts and feelings inside my head. I don't share them with anyone because I can't. There is a version of me I can only ever be with myself.

To be sure, like the rest of race, whiteness is a fiction, what in the jargon of the academy is termed a social construct, an agreed-on myth that has empirical grit because of its effect, not its essence. But whiteness goes even one better: it is a category of identity that is most useful when its very existence is denied. That’s its twisted genius. Whiteness embodies Charles Baudelaire’s admonition that “the loveliest trick of the Devil is to persuade you that he does not exist.” Or, as an alter ego of the character Keyser Söze says in the film The Usual Suspects, “The greatest trick the devil ever played was to convince the world that he didn’t exist.” The Devil. Racism. Another metaphor. Same difference.

Once I had found the courage to tell Rebecca about the children in my head, it wasn't so hard in the coming months to tell Roberta. On the train from Huddersfield one day in May I made a roll call of the usual suspects: Baby Alice; Alice 2, who was two years old and liked to suck sticky lollipops; Billy; Samuel; Shirley; Kato; and the enigmatic Eliza. There was boy I would grow particularly fond of named limbo, who was ten, but like Eliza he was still forming. There were others without names or specific behaviour traits. I didn't want to confuse the issue with this crowd of 'others' and just counted off the major players with their names, ages and personalities, which Roberta scribbled down on a pad. Then she looked slightly embarrassed. 'You know, I've met Billy on a few occasions, and Samuel once too,' she said. 'You're joking.' I felt betrayed. 'Why didn't you tell me?' 'I wanted it to come from you, Alice, when you were ready.' For some reason I pulled up my sleeves and showed he my arms. 'That's Kato,' I said, 'or Shirley.' She looked a bit pale as she studied the scars. I had feeling she didn't know what to say. The problem with counsellors is that they are trained to listen, not to give advice or diagnosis. We sat there with my arms extended over the void between us like evidence in court, then I pushed down my sleeves again. 'I'm so sorry, Alice,' she said finally and I shrugged. 'It's not your fault, is it?' Now she shrugged, and we were quiet once more.

There are food stations around the room, each representing one of the main characters. The Black Widow station is all Russian themed, with a carved ice sculpture that delivers vodka into molded ice shot glasses, buckwheat blini with smoked salmon and caviar, borsht bite skewers, minipita sandwiches filled with grilled Russian sausages, onion salad, and a sour cream sauce. The Captain America station is, naturally, all-American, with cheeseburger sliders, miniwaffles topped with a fried chicken tender and drizzled with Tabasco honey butter, paper cones of French fries, mini-Chicago hot dogs, a mac 'n' cheese bar, and pickled watermelon skewers. The Hulk station is all about duality and green. Green and white tortellini, one filled with cheese, the other with spicy sausage, skewered with artichoke hearts with a brilliant green pesto for dipping. Flatbreads cooked with olive oil and herbs and Parmesan, topped with an arugula salad in a lemon vinaigrette. Mini-espresso cups filled with hot sweet pea soup topped with cold sour cream and chervil. And the dessert buffet is inspired by Loki, the villain of the piece, and Norse god of mischief. There are plenty of dessert options, many of the usual suspects, mini-creme brûlée, eight different cookies, small tarts. But here and there are mischievous and whimsical touches. Rice Krispies treats sprinkled with Pop Rocks for a shocking dining experience. One-bite brownies that have a molten chocolate center that explodes in the mouth. Rice pudding "sushi" topped with Swedish Fish.

The government doesn’t care if our kids learn to think or learn for the sake of learning, as long they learn to love their country, and grow up and pay taxes. How much of what we learnt in 10 years of our schooling actually comes handy in our day-to-day lives? Why can’t we learn useful skills, like cooking, in school that actually come in handy when it comes to survival? Does schooling need to last for 10 years? Is it possible to complete schooling in 7 years? Nobody knows and schools have done a great job at not letting us ask questions. We live in times where we cautiously invest 4 years in undergrad schools or 2 years in B-schools in the hope that we acquire strong skills or at least secure a job. Schooling, as it exists, is a 10-year course that neither helps us get a job nor imparts a skill and unfortunately, it is compulsory. Half the jobs that exist today won’t even exist 10 years from now. That’s how fast the world is progressing. We still ask our kids to learn when Shah Jahan was born. It is a joke that at the end of these 10 years, we are expected to choose a career in science, commerce, or arts when school education hardly helped us explore ourselves. Some of the world’s greatest artists, athletes, inventors and scientists are from India. Unfortunately, they are all engineers and tragically none of them know about their talents. The biggest reason for this tragedy isn’t the society, parenting, coaching or anything else. The school is the reason and they too are all eventually victims of the same century-old schooling system. In the legendary words of Kevin Spacey from Usual Suspects, “The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.” and our school is our society’s biggest devil.

What explains these paradoxes? No doubt there are the usual suspects. First, the U.S. is privately recognized as a prosperous, free and dynamic society in the way most others nations are not.

John List was the inspiration for the elusive, enigmatic character of Keyser Soze in the 1995 film “The Usual Suspects,” starring Kevin Spacey.

Many of the one-liners teach volumes. Some summarize excellence in an entire field in one sentence. As Josh Waitzkin (page 577), chess prodigy and the inspiration behind Searching for Bobby Fischer, might put it, these bite-sized learnings are a way to “learn the macro from the micro.” The process of piecing them together was revelatory. If I thought I saw “the Matrix” before, I was mistaken, or I was only seeing 10% of it. Still, even that 10%—“ islands” of notes on individual mentors—had already changed my life and helped me 10x my results. But after revisiting more than a hundred minds as part of the same fabric, things got very interesting very quickly. For the movie nerds among you, it was like the end of The Sixth Sense or The Usual Suspects: “The red door knob! The fucking Kobayashi coffee cup! How did I not notice that?! It was right in front of me the whole time!” To help you see the same, I’ve done my best to weave patterns together throughout the book, noting where guests have complementary habits, beliefs, and recommendations. The completed jigsaw puzzle is much greater than the sum of its parts.

Can you believe she’s never seen The Usual Suspects?” Liza scoffed. “Liza!” “Relax. We’re just shooting real guns in the house, not watching R-rated movies.

When life weighs on you, even the blankets become too heavy to move

The answer is all the usual suspects—too much sympathetic nervous system arousal, too much secretion of glucocorticoids. But another factor is relevant, one that is wildly controversial, namely estrogen.

I fought hard for such a framing at the Conference of the Parties 6 in The Hague in 2000, but was opposed not by the usual suspects—industrial interests and OPEC—but rather by those who were more “green”—World Wildlife Fund, Greenpeace, and European Green Party delegates. I was dumbfounded. Why didn’t they want to support a plan to both keep carbon in the forests and get a double bonus of biodiversity protection? The debates were heated. I thought the argument against it—no baseline for additionality—was legitimate, but not an insurmountable obstacle. Baselines are negotiable, and protecting primary forests should at least have been on the agenda. The passion of the opponents seemed totally misplaced. One evening during COP 6, I went to the environment NGOs’ tent for a reception. In this more informal setting,

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.” —Verbal Kint The Usual Suspects

he didn’t always step into the same river of time as the rest of us.

In the end, when the Chicago inerrantists call out “naturalism, evolutionism, scientism, secular humanism, and relativism” - the “usual suspects” of crimes against inerrancy - they are throwing up a whale of a red herring (not to mix marine metaphors). In reality, none of these presuppositions are necessary in order to conclude that the Bible contradicts itself. For instance, a Muslim is not any of these things; the Muslim believes in supernatural revelation, miracles, creation, absolute truth - all the essentials. But the Muslim can still detect errors in the Bible. Moreover, so can the Christian. I speak here from experience. I was an inerrantist, until I wasn’t. I never doubted the supernatural; I never doubted the possibility of special revelation; I never doubted that some things are just objectively true. In fact, it was precisely because of my faith in the Bible that I came to recognize that it was not inerrant. I believed that because it was inerrant, it could certainly survive a little critical scrutiny. Based on that assumption, I proceeded to scrutinize the text, and found that given consistent principles of exegesis, the construct of inerrancy could not be sustained. I neither wanted nor expected to discover what I discovered, but my faith in the Bible’s inerrancy contained within it, as they say, the seeds of its own destruction.

Terminology and classification Leukaemias are traditionally classified into four main groups: • acute lymphoblastic leukaemia (ALL) • acute myeloid leukaemia (AML) • chronic lymphocytic leukaemia (CLL) • chronic myeloid leukaemia (CML). In acute leukaemia there is proliferation of primitive stem cells leading to an accumulation of blasts, predominantly in the bone marrow, which causes bone marrow failure. In chronic leukaemia the malignant clone is able to differentiate, resulting in an accumulation of more mature cells. Lymphocytic and lymphoblastic cells are those derived from the lymphoid stem cell (B cells and T cells). Myeloid refers to the other lineages, i.e. precursors of red cells, granulocytes, monocytes and platelets (see Fig. 24.2, p. 989). The diagnosis of leukaemia is usually suspected from an abnormal blood count, often a raised white count, and is confirmed by examination of the bone marrow. This includes the morphology of the abnormal cells, analysis of cell surface markers (immunophenotyping), clone-specific chromosome abnormalities and molecular changes. These results are incorporated in the World Health Organization (WHO) classification of tumours of haematopoietic and lymphoid tissues; the subclassification of acute leukaemias is shown in Box 24.47. The features in the bone marrow not only provide an accurate diagnosis but also give valuable prognostic information, allowing therapy to be tailored to the patient’s disease.

A typical hiring manager will have a narrow aperture, considering only certain people with certain titles in certain fields, those who will undoubtedly do today’s job well. But the successful manager sets a wider aperture and rounds up people beyond the usual suspects.

Stanley reads The Mirror Thief. It’s a book of poems, but it tells a story: an alchemist and spy called Crivano steals an enchanted mirror, and is pursued by his enemies through the streets of a haunted city. Stanley long ago stopped paying the story any mind. He’s come to regard it as a fillip at best, at worst as a device meant to conceal the book’s true purpose, the powerful secret it contains. Nothing, he’s quite certain, could be so obscure by accident. As he reads, his eyes graze each poem’s lines like a needle over an LP’s grooves, atomizing them into letters, reassembling them into uniform arcades. What he’s looking for is a key: a gap in the book’s mask, a loose thread to unravel its veil. He tries tricks to find new openings—reading sideways, reading upsidedown, reading whitespace instead of text—but the words always close ranks like tiles in a mosaic, like crooks in a lineup, and mock him with their blithe expressions. The usual suspects.

The usual suspects, The Sierra Club, Greenpeace, a United Nations “sustainability” group, and the Southern Alliance for Clean Energy – this last one the group of billionaire global warming True Believer and political activist Tom Steyer — are enthusiastic about this kind of “deregulation.” Breitbart has reported that Steyer money is helping to promote these initiatives, and is even trying to seduce various conservative groups to go along with policies that would almost certainly advance a left-wing agenda but do nothing to improve the environment. As is always the case when environmentalists start talking about “deregulation” and energy independence, it’s time to put up the nonsense filters.

Here’s a sampling I made from the usual suspects (print, TV, radio, magazines). Zombies on the left, purgatives on the right, word counts in parentheses. Accommodation The theater has seating accommodation for 600. (7) The theater seats 600. (4) Activity They enjoyed recreational activity. (4) They liked games. (3) The king agreed to limited exploration activity. (7) The king agreed to limited exploration. (6) Basis He agreed to play on an amateur basis. (8) He agreed to play as an amateur. (7) They accepted employment on a part-time basis. (7) They accepted part-time work. (4)

The Chief Administrator considered this question for a moment and then, leaning back in his chair with the barest hint of a smile, replied: “Round up the usual suspects.

He thinks he's Sam Spade or Sherlock Holmes, watched The Usual Suspects five times, still thinks Dean Keaton is Keyser Soze.

Still can’t decide what to throw overboard? Okay, time to make like Inspector Renault: round up the usual suspects. Here are a few things that many women are having too much of: potato chips, bagels, pasta, pizza, fried foods, juices, beer or hard liquor, candy bars, ice cream, soda, and junky chocolate.

Here, too, are some freaks who did harm in their own way. They have names not like Mao and Che and Fidel and the other usual suspects who the world already knows too well, but names like Crowley, Duranty, Hay, Reich, Benjamin, Alinsky, Millett, the Frankfurt School—more elusive targets off the radar, and who the world should know more about, at the least because they serve as subtle (or not so subtle) markers and cautionary tales of the consequences of these ideas.

This kind of blight can’t be easily blamed on the usual suspects like government or counterculture or high-hat urban policy. The villain that did this to my home state wasn’t the Supreme Court or Lyndon Johnson, showering dollars on the poor or putting criminals back on the street. The culprit is the conservatives’ beloved free-market capitalism, a system that, at its most unrestrained, has little use for smalltown merchants or the agricultural system that supported the small towns in the first place. Deregulated capitalism is what has allowed Wal-Mart to crush local businesses across Kansas and, even more important, what has driven agriculture, the state’s raison d’être, to a state of near collapse. “The

Whiteness embodies Charles Baudelaire’s admonition that “the loveliest trick of the Devil is to persuade you that he does not exist.” Or, as an alter ego of the character Keyser Söze says in the film The Usual Suspects, “The greatest trick the devil ever played was to convince the world that he didn’t exist.

By the time she was given the role (of Ilsa Lund) in April, Bergman would have accepted a script much worse than Casablanca. She had been stuck in Rochester, New York, where her husband was in medical school, since August, and she despaired of ever making another movie. She wrote despairing letters to Ruth Roberts from Rochester, New York where her husband Petter Lindstrom, who had been a dentist in Sweden, was preparing to become a neurosurgeon. "I am so fed up with Rochester and Main Street I am ready to cry," she wrote.

By the time she was given the role (of Ilsa Lund) in April, Bergman would have accepted a script much worse than Casablanca. She had been stuck in Rochester, New York, where her husband was in medical school, since August, and she despaired of ever making another movie.

RENAULT I have often speculated on why you do not return to America. Did you abscond with the church funds? Did you run off with the President's wife? I should like to think you killed a man. It is the romantic in me. RICK It was a combination of all three. RENAULT And what in Heaven's name brought you to Casablanca? RICK My health. I came to Casablanca for the waters. RENAULT Waters? What waters? We are in the desert. RICK I was misinformed.

Elle reached inside a cabinet, withdrawing an assortment of cups, none of them matching. She placed his favorite, a cup resembling a mock Holy Grail, in front of him. “We’ve got the usual suspects. Wine, water, and . . .” She shut one eye, thinking. “Coffee.” “Water works, thanks.” “Oh! We might have hot chocolate but it’s the kind without the marshmallows.” “No, you have the ones with marshmallows. They’re behind your coffee filters, beside the box of apple cider packets that expired in 2014.” Darcy stepped inside the kitchen, posting up against the counter.

The solitary chess game Rick is playing when the camera first focuses on him in Casablanca was a real game Bogart was playing by mail with Irving Kovner of Brooklyn. Bogart would play chess with anyone at any time, and, when he was making Casablanca he was also doing his patriotic duty by playing a number of mail games with sailors in the U.S. Navy. Whatever the quality of his game, Bogart loved chess. "I enjoy chess because there's no luck to it," he told Ezra Goodman.

Not long ago, on a flight to India, I was filling out a customs declaration form. It asked most of the questions one would anticipate, including “Are you bringing the following items … ?” One of the items on the list was Prohibited Articles. Turning the card over to find out what was prohibited, I found, along with the usual suspects (narcotic drugs, counterfeit currency, etc.), something I did not quite expect: “Maps and literature where Indian external boundaries have been shown incorrectly.

It is possible that one of the seven other major studios might have bought and made a movie from Everybody comes to Rick's, an unproduced play about a cynical American who owns a bar in Casablanca. (One producer at M-G-M, Sam Marx, did want to buy the play for $5.000, but his boss didn't think it was worth the money.) It wouldn't have been the same movie, not only because it would have starred Gary Cooper at Paramount, Clark Gable at M-G-M, or Tyrone Power at Fox but because another studio's style would have been more languid, less sardonic, or opulently Technicolored.

But whiteness goes even one better: it is a category of identity that is most useful when its very existence is denied. That’s its twisted genius. Whiteness embodies Charles Baudelaire’s admonition that “the loveliest trick of the Devil is to persuade you that he does not exist.” Or, as an alter ego of the character Keyser Söze says in the film The Usual Suspects, “The greatest trick the devil ever played was to convince the world that he didn’t exist.” The Devil. Racism. Another metaphor. Same difference.

Two of the pillars I focus on are the usual suspects, the state and markets. Many forests have been consumed by books on the relationship between the two, some favoring the state and others markets.

We turned the gun over to the police.

Movies today are bigger, brighter, technically dazzling, awesome in their computer generated special effects. But they are also thinner; they lack the thick layers of character actors who brought depth to the background and refracted the stars’ light, so that it formed a different and more complicated image.

Today, any movie that didn’t show Rick and Ilsa sweatily grappling with each other’s naked bodies in Rick’s apartment above the café would be considered old-fashioned. But graphic sex wipes out ambiguity, and the ambiguity in Casablanca, the uncertainty about events and motives, is one of the things that still entices us.

The world is a cornucopia of grays. I believed the romantic interpretation of Casablanca then - love lost for the good of the world - and believe it now. But it is the very ambiguity of Casablanca that keeps it current. No movie can last if it cannot find new things to say to new generations. Captain Renault, the one gray character in a black and white time, would’ve been amused.

It is a mistake to confuse old with golden, a word within which those letters are often trapped. But the old Hollywood studios did have a golden era, when art, and commerce, and hard work fitted comfortably together.

If we think about this we can see that it can lead to somewhat disturbing conclusions. One is that my ‘I’, my sense of self, a very important part of my inside, must not really exist. Nor must those of the scientists and philosophers writing books declaring that my inside or theirs doesn’t really exist. What is really writing those books are the physical processes that create the illusion that there are individual ‘I’s’ doing it. But for there to be an illusion, there must be someone being ‘fooled’ by it. The usual suspect here would be me. But if ‘I’ am the illusion, one wants to ask who it is that I am fooling? Another possibility is that, if there is no inside, then everything, all of reality, must only be an outside. But here are some logical problems here too. To have an ‘outside’ one must have an ‘inside’, just as in order to have a back one must have a front. Yet if there is no ‘inside’, and so no ‘outside’ what are we left with?

Always be alert to feedback that doesn’t come from the usual suspects. Some of the most useful feedback is unsolicited, even unintentional. Temper the ego by paying close attention to how people react to you nonverbally. Do their expressions show intrigue or boredom? Are they irritated, agitated, tired? Here, again, it’s worth looking for alignment. Do many different people drift off when you’re talking about a subject? It might be time to pull back on that one. When people offer their reflections, we must pick and choose what we follow carefully and wisely.

We should of course analyze in detail the social conditions which made the coronavirus epidemic possible. Just think about the way, in today’s interconnected world, a British person meets someone in Singapore, returns to England, and then goes skiing to France, infecting there four others … The usual suspects are waiting in line to be questioned: globalization, the capitalist market, the transience of the rich.

Currently, the Initiatic Orders of a theurgical and esoteric nature that have a genuine affiliation don't promote themselves openly on the net like others do, and they are certainly not AMORC, despite the latter being one of the most known Rosicrucian affiliations in the world. AMORC (just like the O.T.O.) has created a sort of monopoly in this sector, often infiltrating and manipulating smaller orders and affiliations, threatening even lawsuits to stop any form of competition or improper use of their brand of sectarian magick. They are a sort of multinational of the occult., and prefers to present itself as an emanation of the false positivity of the New Age era. It is actually an additional tool of manipulation in the hands of the usual suspects.

But I can keep her sequestered in her room until the case is solved.” “Wonder how long that’ll take, Cy?” “I don’t know. Sometimes it takes years to solve a murder.” The two of us laughed, even though both of us knew that neither of us would be satisfied if the case dragged on. “Okay, Louie, it’s time to inconvenience the guests. Round up the usual suspects.” My partner laughed at my reference to the movie Casablanca, then turned toward the door. Our job wasn’t finished. It had barely begun.

Or, as an alter ego of the character Keyser Söze says in the film The Usual Suspects, “The greatest trick the devil ever played was to convince the world that he didn’t exist.” The Devil. Racism. Another metaphor. Same difference.

Whiteness embodies Charles Baudelaire’s admonition that “the loveliest trick of the Devil is to persuade you that he does not exist.” Or, as an alter ego of the character Keyser Söze says in the film The Usual Suspects, “The greatest trick the devil ever played was to convince the world that he didn’t exist.” The Devil. Racism. Another metaphor. Same difference.

said, “The greatest theologians in history were pastors.” He named his usual suspects—Augustine, Anselm, Luther, Calvin, Edwards—adding, “These were the great geniuses of the theological world. They were all pastors. . . . When I was studying them, I realized they were all world-class scholars, but they were also battlefield theologians. They took their message to the people.”19 Through their sermons that have been published and translated, these battlefield theologians are still taking the message to the people.

much of it for use against the usual suspects – Fenians, anarchists and the like.

Some sentences have the power to change everything. There are the usual suspects: I love you, I hate you, I’m pregnant, I’m dying, I regret to tell you that this country is at war. But the words with the greatest power to create both havoc and marvels are these: “I need your help.

Snow rubs his thumbs over the bird and snake heads. “There’s a pretty pair.” He flips it. “And an inscription.” An inscription? I must’ve missed it in the whirlwind of reaping day. Without asking for permission, he pulls a pair of specs from his breast pocket and tilts the striker to catch the light. “Ah, very sweet. From L.D. Who might that be?” Lying to conceal her won’t help. Even though they didn’t air it to the country, I bet they showed Snow what happened during the reaping. Me trying to save a girl from the Peacekeepers. Her reaction to my reaping. Twelve’s a small district. If he has a mind to, he will track down my girlfriend. “Lenore,” I say. “But Lenore what? No, no, don’t tell me. Let me guess. D . . . D . . . That’s a tough one. None of the usual suspects, but they so rarely are. I can think of plenty prefaced by deep or dark. Deep blue. Dark green. But that’s not how they work. Perhaps something in nature? Like amber or ivory. Daffodil . . . dandelion . . . diamond? No, that’s no color at all, really. All right, I’m stumped. Lenore what?” The milk has soured in my stomach at his musings and what they reveal. He knows Lenore Dove is Covey; only they name their children this way. First name from a ballad, second a color. Amber and Ivory are actual family names. How has he unearthed this obscure fact about a pocket of musicians in the throwaway district of 12? Capitol informers? “Dove,” I tell him. “Dove!” He smacks his forehead. “Dove. I have always heard ‘dove color,’ though. It’s a bit of a cheat. But who could resist when you get both the color and the bird? And we know how they feel about their birds.