Weight Is Just A Number Quotes

Get Off The Scale! You are beautiful. Your beauty, just like your capacity for life, happiness, and success, is immeasurable. Day after day, countless people across the globe get on a scale in search of validation of beauty and social acceptance. Get off the scale! I have yet to see a scale that can tell you how enchanting your eyes are. I have yet to see a scale that can show you how wonderful your hair looks when the sun shines its glorious rays on it. I have yet to see a scale that can thank you for your compassion, sense of humor, and contagious smile. Get off the scale because I have yet to see one that can admire you for your perseverance when challenged in life. It’s true, the scale can only give you a numerical reflection of your relationship with gravity. That’s it. It cannot measure beauty, talent, purpose, life force, possibility, strength, or love. Don’t give the scale more power than it has earned. Take note of the number, then get off the scale and live your life. You are beautiful!

Some can be more intelligent than others in a structured environment—in fact school has a selection bias as it favors those quicker in such an environment, and like anything competitive, at the expense of performance outside it. Although I was not yet familiar with gyms, my idea of knowledge was as follows. People who build their strength using these modern expensive gym machines can lift extremely large weights, show great numbers and develop impressive-looking muscles, but fail to lift a stone; they get completely hammered in a street fight by someone trained in more disorderly settings. Their strength is extremely domain-specific and their domain doesn't exist outside of ludic—extremely organized—constructs. In fact their strength, as with over-specialized athletes, is the result of a deformity. I thought it was the same with people who were selected for trying to get high grades in a small number of subjects rather than follow their curiosity: try taking them slightly away from what they studied and watch their decomposition, loss of confidence, and denial. (Just like corporate executives are selected for their ability to put up with the boredom of meetings, many of these people were selected for their ability to concentrate on boring material.) I've debated many economists who claim to specialize in risk and probability: when one takes them slightly outside their narrow focus, but within the discipline of probability, they fall apart, with the disconsolate face of a gym rat in front of a gangster hit man.

Idiot. It was just a word. It had no weight, no atomic number, no chemical structure with which it could bind to and thus make it real. But it hurt.

You could feel weight, yes—when you were carrying too much, it made you ploddy—but wasn’t it, like time, basically just a human construct? Hands on a clock, numbers on a bathroom scale, weren’t they only ways of trying to measure invisible forces that had visible effects? A feeble effort to corral some greater reality beyond what mere humans thought of as reality?

Age in just a number. It carries no weight. The real weight is in impacts. The truth is that you can do it at any age. Get up and be willing to leave a mark.

When you love, age, height and weight are just .numbers I agree and filling that the heart, has its own way ... count people and things!

Time is invisible. Unlike weight. Ah, but maybe that wasn't true. You could feel weight, yes--when you were carrying too much, it made you ploddy--but wasn't it, like time, basically just a human construct? Hands on a clock, numbers on a bathroom scale, weren't they only ways of trying to measure invisible forces that had visible effects? A feeble effort to corral some greater reality beyond what mere humans thought of as reality?

I, like every kid I knew, loved The Dukes of Hazzard. But I would have done well to think more about why two outlaws, driving a car named the General Lee, must necessarily be portrayed as “just some good ole boys, never meanin’ no harm”—a mantra for the Dreamers if there ever was one. But what one “means” is neither important nor relevant. It is not necessary that you believe that the officer who choked Eric Garner set out that day to destroy a body. All you need to understand is that the officer carries with him the power of the American state and the weight of an American legacy, and they necessitate that of the bodies destroyed every year, some wild and disproportionate number of them will be black.

We can deeply love our poison. We can love the taste of it, the scent of it, the comforting weight of it in our belly and find ourselves woken in the night with stabbing cramps, arms around porcelain toilet bowls, hurling every last bit until collapsing on bathroom tile, limp from dehydration. Sometimes parting with love is essential for survival. I’ve found the most tragic aspect of losing loved ones wasn’t the big boom of the fallout, but realizing later how much healthier I was without them.

There is a constant amount of weight in the world. If one person loses weight, another must gain it. If somebody dies, an appropriate number of babies are born. Do not stand too close to a person who is losing weight. That fat is just looming, looking for a person to inhabit.

My parents’ attempts to stop my habit were through guilt and force. They grounded me several times. Carl made cracks when he felt that I was eating too much and snide comments on my weight yo-yoing. They sent me to psychiatrists who tried to quick fix me by Paxil, Zoloft, and Effexor prescriptions. All were antidepressants with weight gain for side effects, which might as well have been rat poison for a bulimic.

You need to be Queen. Everyone who knows anything knows htat, but most people don't know anything, and that is a problem." He scratched at the back of his head and shifted his weight. "I would never take that away from you. No matter what happens, I'd never take the crown from you, and I'd defend you against anybody who tried." I didn't say anything to that. I'd never heard Tove talk so much before, and I didn't know what he was getting at. "I know that you're in love with...well, not me," he said carefully. "And I'm not in love with you either. But I do respect you and I like you." "I respect and like you too," I said, and he gave me a small smile. "But it's a number of things, and it's none of them." He let out a deep breath. "That didn't make sense. I mean,it's because you need somebody to help you keep the throne, and somebody on your side, and I can do that. But...it's just because I think...I want to." "What?" I asked, and he actually looked at me, letting his mossy eyes stare into mine. "Will you...I mean,do you want to get married?" Tove asked. "To me?" "I,um..." I didn't know what to say. "If you don't want to,nothing has to change between us," Tove said hurriedly. "I asked because it sounds like a good idea to me." "Yeah," I said,and I didn't know what I would say until it was comign out of my mouth. "I mean,yes,I do.I will. I would...I'll marry you." "Yeah?" Tove smiled. "Yes." I swallowed hard and tried to smile back. "Good." He exhaled and looked back down the hall. "This is good,right?" "Yeah,I think so," I said, and I meant it. "Yeah." He nodded. "I sorta feel like throwing up now,though." "I think that's normal." "Good." He nodded again and looked at me. "Well,I'll let you go...do whatever you need to do.And I'll go do what I do." "okay," I nodded. "All right." He randomly patted me on the shoulder, then nodded again, and walked away.

As I watched him, I wondered how many times a heart can heal. Are we allotted a specific number of comebacks from heartbreak? Or is that what really kills us, in the end—not strokes or cancer or pneumonia—but instead just one too many blows to the heart? Doctors talk of 'cardiac insults'—such a perfect tun of phrase—but they know nothing of the heart, not truly.

There is no magic weight, no magic size, no magic number on the scale where, as soon as you hit it, confetti rains down and a band starts to play and hidden doors slide open and Daniel Craig walks through them to lift you in his arms (because, thin as you are, he totally can) and carry you into the life of uninterrupted bliss that you just know could be yours, if you only wore a size two dress.

Weight Watchers points is a beautiful system for someone who is absentminded about food. They aren’t the greatest for someone who has had eating disorders all her life. The world became numbers to me and I was doing more math than I ever had before. I got off Weight Watchers and went back to just counting calories. The world became different kinds of numbers, the old, familiar kind. This is how I eat now. The world is still numbers, but it is algebra, not calculus.

We are accustomed to think of ourselves as a great democratic body, linked by common ties of blood and language, united indissolubly by all the modes of communication which the ingenuity of man can possibly devise; we wear the same clothes, eat the same diet, read the same newspapers, alike in everything but name, weight and number; we are the most collectivized people in the world, barring certain primitive peoples whom we consider backward in their development. And yet— yet despite all the outward evidences of being close-knit, interrelated, neighborly, good−humored, helpful, sympathetic, almost brotherly, we are a lonely people, a morbid, crazed herd thrashing about in zealous frenzy, trying to forget that we are not what we think we are, not really united, not really devoted to one another, not really listening, not really anything, just digits shuffled about by some unseen hand in a calculation which doesn't concern us.

I object to all punishment whatsoever. I don't want to punish anybody, but there are an extraordinary number of people who I want to kill. Not in any unkind or personal spirit. But it must be evident to all of you, you must all know half a dozen people at least, who are no use in this world; who are more trouble than they are worth. And I think it would be a good thing to make everybody come before a properly appointed board just as he might come before the income tax commissioners and say every 5 years or every 7 years, just put them there, and say, sir or madam, now will you be kind enough to justify your existence? If you can’t justify your existence; if you’re not pulling your weight in the social boat; if you are not producing as much as you consume or perhaps a little more, then clearly we cannot use the big organization of our society for the purpose of keeping you alive, because your life does not benefit us, and it can’t be of very much use to yourself.

The term “obese” is derived from the Latin obesus, meaning “having eaten oneself fat,” inherently blaming fat people for our bodies. A growing number of fat activists consider the term to be a slur, and many avoid it altogether. The term “overweight” implies that there is an objectively, externally determined correct weight for every body. Both terms are derived from a medical model that considers fat bodies as deviations in need of correction. Both are also defined terms used frequently within medical and academic research.

The Troubadours Etc." Just for this evening, let's not mock them. Not their curtsies or cross-garters or ever-recurring pepper trees in their gardens promising, promising. At least they had ideas about love. All day we've driven past cornfields, past cows poking their heads through metal contraptions to eat. We've followed West 84, and what else? Irrigation sprinklers fly past us, huge wooden spools in the fields, lounging sheep, telephone wires, yellowing flowering shrubs. Before us, above us, the clouds swell, layers of them, the violet underneath of clouds. Every idea I have is nostalgia. Look up: there is the sky that passenger pigeons darkened and filled— darkened for days, eclipsing sun, eclipsing all other sound with the thunder of their wings. After a while, it must have seemed that they followed not instinct or pattern but only one another. When they stopped, Audubon observed, they broke the limbs of stout trees by the weight of the numbers. And when we stop we'll follow—what? Our hearts? The Puritans thought that we are granted the ability to love only through miracle, but the troubadours knew how to burn themselves through, how to make themselves shrines to their own longing. The spectacular was never behind them. Think of days of those scarlet-breasted, blue-winged birds above you. Think of me in the garden, humming quietly to myself in my blue dress, a blue darker than the sky above us, a blue dark enough for storms, though cloudless. At what point is something gone completely? The last of the sunlight is disappearing even as it swells— Just for this evening, won't you put me before you until I'm far enough away you can believe in me? Then try, try to come closer— my wonderful and less than.

December 13th IT’S JUST A NUMBER “You aren’t bothered, are you, because you weigh a certain amount and not twice as much? So why get worked up that you’ve been given a certain lifespan and not more? Just as you are satisfied with your normal weight, so you should be with the time you’ve been given.” —MARCUS AURELIUS, MEDITATIONS, 6.49

Heat is lost at the surface, so the more surface area you have relative to volume, the harder you must work to stay warm. That means that little creatures have to produce heat more rapidly than large creatures. They must therefore lead completely different lifestyles. An elephant’s heart beats just thirty times a minute, a human’s sixty, a cow’s between fifty and eighty, but a mouse’s beats six hundred times a minute—ten times a second. Every day, just to survive, the mouse must eat about 50 percent of its own body weight. We humans, by contrast, need to consume only about 2 percent of our body weight to supply our energy requirements. One area where animals are curiously—almost eerily—uniform is with the number of heartbeats they have in a lifetime. Despite the vast differences in heart rates, nearly all animals have about 800 million heartbeats in them if they live an average life. The exception is humans. We pass 800 million heartbeats after twenty-five years, and just keep on going for another fifty years and 1.6 billion heartbeats or so. It is tempting to attribute this exceptional vigor to some innate superiority on our part, but in fact it is only over the last ten or twelve generations that we have deviated from the standard mammalian pattern thanks to improvements in our life expectancy. For most of our history, 800 million beats per lifetime was about the human average, too.

Everyone knew that at some point in history, early humans got access to a big supply of protein, which allowed their brains to expand like a thirsty sponge in a bucket of water. Our brains kept growing until they were seven times larger than the brains of any comparable mammal. They also sucked up an ungodly number of calories; even though our brains account for only 2 percent of our body weight, they demand 20 percent of our energy, compared with just 9 percent for chimps.

… if you substitute arbitrary violence, hatred and jealousy for justice, legality and right, it may be that you will succeed in carrying your point; it may be that a great wrong will be accomplished by the exercise of sheer force, and the weight of superior numbers: but your reputation among the nations of the earth will be irretrievably injured and debased, and the flag of which you are so justly proud will no longer be the standard of freedom and the hope of the oppressed, but will be associated with deeds of falsehood and treachery.

I have never believed that striving for perfection is a commendable habit. It just sets you up to fail before you even begin. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve seen a wish for perfection totally paralyze a person who dwells on the idea that “If I can’t do it perfectly, I can’t do it at all.” “Good enough” is a target that’s, well, good enough. Having a welcoming, comfortable home is a wonderful thing, even if you have a little clutter here and there. It says that your home is loved and lived in. When you reach “good enough,” relax and enjoy the view.

Jesus,” Morgan said feelingly. When he saw Jane’s lips purse with disapproval, he reminded her that he was not a godly man. “Taking the Lord’s name in vain is the least of the commandments I’ve broken.” “I’m not sure they were numbered for purposes of ranking. I believe they deserve equal weight.” “Maybe so, Miss Middlebourne, and maybe the next time I get the urge to invoke the Lord’s name, I’ll just kill Miss Ross instead.” Jane pressed her lips together, but it was an inadequate stopper for her amusement. Laughter bubbled anyway. “You have a wicked sense of humor, Mr. Longstreet.

It went on like that all day: the previous night replaying over and over, seeming to confer a kind of weighted legitimacy onto all the routine, boring parts of the day, making me feel like I was in a movie. Why was it that, when you got to a routine or boring scene in a movie, you didn’t panic or despair? In a movie, the number, duration, and meaning of scenes were determined in advance. You just had to wait it out. Theoretically, I supposed, this was true of real life—certainly, the number and duration of scenes weren’t infinite—but there was always the chance it would just end without anything meaningful happening at all.

For us, the possibility of kindly use is weighted with problems. In the first place, this is not ultimately an organization or institutional solution. Institutional solutions tend to narrow and simplify as they approach action. A large number of people can act together only by defining the point or the line on which their various interests converge. Organizations tend to move toward single objectives -- a ruling, a vote, a law -- and they find it relatively simple to cohere under acronyms and slogans. But kindly use is a concept that of necessity broadens, becoming more complex and diverse, as it approaches action. The land is too various in its kinds, climates, conditions, declivities, aspects, and histories to conform to any generalized understanding or to prosper under generalized treatment. The use of land cannot be both general and kindly -- just as the forms of good manners, generally applied (applied, that is, without consideration of differences), are experienced as indifference, bad manners. To treat every field, or every part of every field, with the same consideration is not farming but industry. Kindly use depends upon intimate knowledge, the most sensitive responsiveness and responsibility. As knowledge (hence, use) is generalized, essential values are destroyed. As the householder evolves into a consumer, the farm evolves into a factory -- with results that are potentially calamitous for both.

Dewey mournfully remarks, “A certain tragic fate seems to attend all intellectual movements.” With no standard, no proof, anywhere in the premises, a brand of philosophy can be overthrown as easily as it can rise up. Said Thomas Huxley: Generation after generation, philosophy has been doomed to roll the stone uphill; and just as all the world swore it was at the top, down ic has rolled to the bottom again . . . until now the weight and the number of those who refuse to be the prey of verbal mystifications has begun to tell in practical life. Huxley’s grandson, Aldous, observes that philosophical arguments are mostly angry shoutings at one another by two people who use the same words but mean different things by them.

We cannot say, in familiar everyday terms, what it 'means' for an electron to be in a state of superposition of two places at once, with complex-number weighting factors w and z. We must, for the moment, simply accept that this is indeed the kind of description that we have to adopt for quantum-level systems. Such superpositions constitute an important part of the actual construction of our microworld, as has now been revealed to us by Nature. It is just a fact that we appear to find that the quantum-level world actually behaves in this unfamiliar and mysterious way. The descriptions are perfectly clear cut-and they provide us with a micro-world that evolves according to a description that is indeed mathematically precise and, moreover, completely deterministic!

Even in my profession how little the art of reading has been studied! how little a clear manner, and good delivery, have been attended to! I speak rather of the past, however, than the present.--There is now a spirit of improvement abroad; but among those who were ordained twenty, thirty, forty years ago, the larger number, to judge by their performance, must have thought reading was reading, and preaching was preaching. It is different now. The subject is more justly considered. It is felt that distinctness and energy, may have weight in recommending the most solid truths; and, besides, there is more general observation and taste, a more critical knowledge diffused, than formerly; in every congregation, there is a larger proportion who know a little of the matter, and who can judge and criticise.

Future Europe’s problems are many, but four stand out. The first is energy: The Europeans are more dependent upon energy imports than the Asians, and no two major European countries think that problem can be solved the same way. The Germans fear that not having a deal with the Russians means war. The Poles want a deal with anyone but Russia. The Spanish know the only solution is in the Western Hemisphere. The Italians fear they must occupy Libya. The French want to force a deal on Algeria. The Brits are eyeing West Africa. Everyone is right. Everyone is wrong. The second is demographic: The European countries long ago aged past the point of even theoretical repopulation, meaning that the European Union is now functionally an export union. Without the American-led Order, the Europeans lose any possibility of exporting goods, which eliminates the possibility of maintaining European society in its current form. The third is economic preference: Perhaps it is mostly subconscious these days, but the Europeans are aware of their bloody history. A large number of conscious decisions were made by European leaders to remodel their systems with a socialist bent so their populations would be vested within their collective systems. This worked. This worked well. But only in the context of the Order with the Americans paying for the bulk of defense costs and enabling growth that the Europeans could have never fostered themselves. Deglobalize and Europe’s demographics and lack of global reach suggest that permanent recession is among the better interpretations of the geopolitical tea leaves. I do not see a path forward in which the core of the European socialist-democratic model can survive. The fourth and final problem: Not all European states are created equal. For every British heavyweight, there is a Greek basket case. For every insulated France, there is a vulnerable Latvia. Some countries are secure or rich or have a tradition of power projection. Others are vulnerable or poor or are little more than historical doormats. Perhaps worst of all, the biggest economic player (Germany) is the one with no options but to be the center weight of everything, while the two countries with the greatest capacity to go solo (France and the United Kingdom) hedged their bets and never really integrated with the rest of Europe. There’s little reason to expect the French to use their reach to benefit Europe, and there’s no reason to expect assistance from the British, who formally seceded from the European Union in 2020. History,

Back in the twentieth century, American girls had used baseball terminology. “First base” referred to embracing and kissing; “second base” referred to groping and fondling and deep, or “French,” kissing, commonly known as “heavy petting”; “third base” referred to fellatio, usually known in polite conversation by the ambiguous term “oral sex”; and “home plate” meant conception-mode intercourse, known familiarly as “going all the way.” In the year 2000, in the era of hooking up, “first base” meant deep kissing (“tonsil hockey”), groping, and fondling; “second base” meant oral sex; “third base” meant going all the way; and “home plate” meant learning each other’s names. Getting to home plate was relatively rare, however. The typical Filofax entry in the year 2000 by a girl who had hooked up the night before would be: “Boy with black Wu-Tang T-shirt and cargo pants: O, A, 6.” Or “Stupid cock diesel”—slang for a boy who was muscular from lifting weights—“who kept saying, ‘This is a cool deal’: TTC, 3.” The letters referred to the sexual acts performed (e.g., TTC for “that thing with the cup”), and the Arabic number indicated the degree of satisfaction on a scale of 1 to 10. In the year 2000, girls used “score” as an active verb indicating sexual conquest, as in: “The whole thing was like very sketchy, but I scored that diesel who said he was gonna go home and caff up [drink coffee in order to stay awake and study] for the psych test.” In the twentieth century, only boys had used “score” in that fashion, as in: “I finally scored with Susan last night.” That girls were using such a locution points up one of the ironies of the relations between the sexes in the year 2000. The continuing vogue of feminism had made sexual life easier, even insouciant, for men. Women had been persuaded that they should be just as active as men when it came to sexual advances. Men were only too happy to accede to the new order, since it absolved them of all sense of responsibility

The down side is that more and more of them keep coming. The noise is like a dinner bell. Hungries are crowding into the green space from the streets on every side, at what you’d have to call a dead run. There’s no limit to their numbers, and there is a limit to his ammo. Which he hits, suddenly. The gun stops vibrating in his hands and the noise of his shots dies away through layers of echoes. He ejects the empty magazine, gropes for another in his pocket. He’s done this so often he could go through the moves in his sleep. Slap the new mag in and give it a quick, sharp tug, pivoting it on the forward lip so it locks into place. Pull the bolt all the way back. The bolt sticks halfway. The weapon’s just dead weight until he can clear whatever’s jamming it–the first round, most likely, elbowed in the chamber. And two hungries are on top of him now, triangulating from left and right. One of them used to be a man, the other a woman. They’re about a second away from the world’s nastiest three-way. It’s

A week is a long time to go without bedding someone?” Marcus interrupted, one brow arching. “Are you going to claim that it’s not?” “St. Vincent, if a man has time to bed a woman more than once a week, he clearly doesn’t have enough to do. There are any number of responsibilities that should keep you sufficiently occupied in lieu of…” Marcus paused, considering the exact phrase he wanted. “Sexual congress.” A pronounced silence greeted his words. Glancing at Shaw, Marcus noticed his brother-in-law’s sudden preoccupation with knocking just the right amount of ash from his cigar into a crystal dish, and he frowned. “You’re a busy man, Shaw, with business concerns on two continents. Obviously you agree with my statement.” Shaw smiled slightly. “My lord, since my ‘sexual congress’ is limited exclusively to my wife, who happens to be your sister, I believe I’ll have the good sense to keep my mouth shut.” St. Vincent smiled lazily. “It’s a shame for a thing like good sense to get in the way of an interesting conversation.” His gaze switched to Simon Hunt, who wore a slight frown. “Hunt, you may as well render your opinion. How often should a man make love to a woman? Is more than once a week a case for unpardonable gluttony?” Hunt threw Marcus a vaguely apologetic glance. “Much as I hesitate to agree with St. Vincent…” Marcus scowled as he insisted, “It is a well-known fact that sexual over-indulgence is bad for the health, just as with excessive eating and drinking—” “You’ve just described my perfect evening, Westcliff,” St. Vincent murmured with a grin, and returned his attention to Hunt. “How often do you and your wife—” “The goings-on in my bedroom are not open for discussion,” Hunt said firmly. “But you lie with her more than once a week?” St. Vincent pressed. “Hell, yes,” Hunt muttered. “And well you should, with a woman as beautiful as Mrs. Hunt,” St. Vincent said smoothly, and laughed at the warning glance that Hunt flashed him. “Oh, don’t glower—your wife is the last woman on earth whom I would have any designs on. I have no desire to be pummeled to a fare-thee-well beneath the weight of your ham-sized fists. And happily married women have never held any appeal for me—not when unhappily married ones are so much easier.” He looked back at Marcus. “It seems that you are alone in your opinion, Westcliff. The values of hard work and self-discipline are no match for a warm female body in one’s bed.” Marcus frowned. “There are more important things.” “Such as?” St. Vincent inquired with the exaggerated patience of a rebellious lad being subjected to an unwanted lecture from his decrepit grandfather. “I suppose you’ll say something like ‘social progress’? Tell me, Westcliff…” His gaze turned sly. “If the devil proposed a bargain to you that all the starving orphans in England would be well-fed from now on, but in return you would never be able to lie with a woman again, which would you choose? The orphans, or your own gratification?” “I never answer hypothetical questions.” St. Vincent laughed. “As I thought. Bad luck for the orphans, it seems.

There is an art to the business of making sandwiches which it is given to few ever to find the time to explore in depth. It is a simple task, but the opportunities for satisfaction are many and profound: choosing the right bread for instance. The Sandwich Maker had spent many months in daily consultation and experiment with Grarp the baker and eventually they had between them created a loaf of exactly the consistency that was dense enough to slice thinly and neatly, while still being light, moist and having that fine nutty flavour which best enhanced the savour of roast Perfectly Normal Beast flesh. There was also the geometry of the slice to be refined: the precise relationships between the width and height of the slice and also its thickness which would give the proper sense of bulk and weight to the finished sandwich: here again, lightness was a virtue, but so too were firmness, generosity and that promise of succulence and savour that is the hallmark of a truly intense sandwich experience. The proper tools, of course, were crucial, and many were the days that the Sandwich Maker, when not engaged with the Baker at his oven, would spend with Strinder the Tool Maker, weighing and balancing knives, taking them to the forge and back again. Suppleness, strength, keenness of edge, length and balance were all enthusiastically debated, theories put forward, tested, refined, and many was the evening when the Sandwich Maker and the Tool Maker could be seen silhouetted against the light of the setting sun and the Tool Maker’s forge making slow sweeping movements through the air trying one knife after another, comparing the weight of this one with the balance of another, the suppleness of a third and the handle binding of a fourth. Three knives altogether were required. First there was the knife for the slicing of the bread: a firm, authoritative blade which imposed a clear and defining will on a loaf. Then there was the butter-spreading knife, which was a whippy little number but still with a firm backbone to it. Early versions had been a little too whippy, but now the combination of flexibility with a core of strength was exactly right to achieve the maximum smoothness and grace of spread. The chief amongst the knives, of course, was the carving knife. This was the knife that would not merely impose its will on the medium through which it moved, as did the bread knife; it must work with it, be guided by the grain of the meat, to achieve slices of the most exquisite consistency and translucency, that would slide away in filmy folds from the main hunk of meat. The Sandwich Maker would then flip each sheet with a smooth flick of the wrist on to the beautifully proportioned lower bread slice, trim it with four deft strokes and then at last perform the magic that the children of the village so longed to gather round and watch with rapt attention and wonder. With just four more dexterous flips of the knife he would assemble the trimmings into a perfectly fitting jigsaw of pieces on top of the primary slice. For every sandwich the size and shape of the trimmings were different, but the Sandwich Maker would always effortlessly and without hesitation assemble them into a pattern which fitted perfectly. A second layer of meat and a second layer of trimmings, and the main act of creation would be accomplished.

Develop a rapid cadence. Ideal running requires a cadence that may be much quicker than you’re used to. Shoot for 180 footfalls per minute. Developing the proper cadence will help you achieve more speed because it increases the number of push-offs per minute. It will also help prevent injury, as you avoid overstriding and placing impact force on your heel. To practice, get an electronic metronome (or download an app for this), set it for 90+ beats per minute, and time the pull of your left foot to the chirp of the metronome. Develop a proper forward lean. With core muscles slightly engaged to generate a bracing effect, the runner leans forward—from the ankles, not from the waist. Land underneath your center of gravity. MacKenzie drills his athletes to make contact with the ground as their midfoot or forefoot passes directly under their center of gravity, rather than having their heels strike out in front of the body. When runners become proficient at this, the pounding stops, and the movement of their legs begins to more closely resemble that of a spinning wheel. Keep contact time brief. “The runner skims over the ground with a slithering motion that does not make the pounding noise heard by the plodder who runs at one speed,” the legendary coach Percy Cerutty once said.7 MacKenzie drills runners to practice a foot pull that spends as little time as possible on the ground. His runners aim to touch down with a light sort of tap that creates little or no sound. The theory is that with less time spent on the ground, the foot has less time to get into the kind of trouble caused by the sheering forces of excessive inward foot rolling, known as “overpronation.” Pull with the hamstring. To create a rapid, piston-like running form, the CFE runner, after the light, quick impact of the foot, pulls the ankle and foot up with the hamstring. Imagine that you had to confine your running stride to the space of a phone booth—you would naturally develop an extremely quick, compact form to gain optimal efficiency. Practice this skill by standing barefoot and raising one leg by sliding your ankle up along the opposite leg. Perform up to 20 repetitions on each leg. Maintain proper posture and position. Proper posture, MacKenzie says, shifts the impact stress of running from the knees to larger muscles in the trunk, namely, the hips and hamstrings. The runner’s head remains up and the eyes focused down the road. With the core muscles engaged, power flows from the larger muscles through to the extremities. Practice proper position by standing with your body weight balanced on the ball of one foot. Keep the knee of your planted leg slightly bent and your lifted foot relaxed as you hold your ankle directly below your hip. In this position, your body is in proper alignment. Practice holding this position for up to 1 minute on each leg. Be patient. Choose one day a week for practicing form drills and technique. MacKenzie recommends wearing minimalist shoes to encourage proper form, but not without taking care of the other necessary work. A quick changeover from motion-control shoes to minimalist shoes is a recipe for tendon problems. Instead of making a rapid transition, ease into minimalist shoes by wearing them just one day per week, during skill work. Then slowly integrate them into your training runs as your feet and legs adapt. Your patience will pay off.

Parents always have the best of intentions when they wish not to impose too much on their children, but in the absence of a normative standard, something else always fills the vacuum. Today, for instance, we flatter ourselves that we are morally neutral, that we can’t comment on a girl’s behavior for fear of crushing her “sexuality,” and yet we are constantly negatively judging a girl’s body rather than praising her internal qualities. The reality is that we haven’t moved away from judgment at all; it’s just that we judge girls now for their superficial “deficiencies.” Think of the alarming increase in the number of parents who buy their thirteen-to-eighteen-year-old daughters breast implants despite the high risk of surgical complications, or consider eleven-year-old Lilly Grasso, an athletic girl of normal weight who came home from school toting a so-called “fat letter” warning her mother that her BMI put her at risk. (Twenty-one out of fifty states now mandate BMI testing in schools, with dubious results.) Then there is the large number of boys who report that they are “revolted” by girls whose privates do not resemble those of the porn stars they view online, and in 2013, a student body president at the University of Texas–Austin even felt free to share his views about how to judge a woman’s private parts, and whether they will prove to be “gross,” based on her general appearance. Is encountering such negative judgments directed against a young woman’s body and most private areas empowering? Is such an attitude enlightened for either party? Or is it more empowering to praise a young woman for her internal qualities of character? I personally feel that it is the latter.

We’re talking about fundamentals here; the fundamental physical laws pertaining to the day-to-day running of the universe. Physicists call them the fundamental constants—things like the masses of atomic particles, the speed of light, the electric charges of electrons, the strength of gravitational force.… They’re beginning to realize just how finely balanced they are. One flip of a decimal point either way and things would start to go seriously wrong. Matter wouldn’t form, stars wouldn’t twinkle, the universe as we know it wouldn’t exist and, if we insist on taking the selfish point of view in the face of such spectacular, epic, almighty destruction, nor would we. The cosmic harmony that made life possible exists at the mercy of what appear, on the face of it, to be unlikely odds. Who or what decided at the time of the Big Bang that the number of particles created would be 1 in 1 billion more than the number of antiparticles, thus rescuing us by the width of a whisker from annihilation long before we even existed (because when matter and antimatter meet, they cancel each other out)? Who or what decided that the number of matter particles left behind after this oversize game of cosmic swapping would be exactly the right number to create a gravitational force that balanced the force of expansion and didn’t collapse the universe like a popped balloon? Who decided that the mass of the neutron should be just enough to make the formation of atoms possible? That the nuclear force that holds atomic nuclei together, in the face of their natural electromagnetic desire to repulse each other, should be just strong enough to achieve this, thus enabling the universe to move beyond a state of almost pure hydrogen? Who made the charge on the proton exactly right for the stars to turn into supernovas? Who fine-tuned the nuclear resonance level for carbon to just delicate enough a degree that it could form, making life, all of which is built on a framework of carbon, possible? The list goes on. And on. And as it goes on—as each particularly arrayed and significantly defined property, against all the odds, and in spite of billions of alternative possibilities, combines exquisitely, in the right time sequence, at the right speed, weight, mass, and ratio, and with every mathematical quality precisely equivalent to a stable universe in which life can exist at all—it adds incrementally in the human mind to a growing sense, depending on which of two antithetical philosophies it chooses to follow, of either supreme and buoyant confidence, or humble terror. The first philosophy says this perfect pattern shows that the universe is not random; that it is designed and tuned, from the atom up, by some supreme intelligence, especially for the purpose of supporting life. The other says it’s a one in a trillion coincidence.

So when it comes to running on the treadmill, learn to hold your body weight first, and learn to run without load-shedding on the treadmill, and your back will be safe. Not just safe but even stronger. Remember, technique matters more than number of calories.

Blood glucose instability is a huge problem that affects the moods of millions of people. The brain accounts for only about 2 percent of body weight, but requires 25 percent of all blood pumped by the heart (up to 50 percent in kids). Therefore, low blood sugar hits the brain hard, causing depression, anxiety, and lassitude. If you often become uncomfortably hungry, you’ve got a serious problem and should solve it. Eat high-protein, nutrient-dense meals, and snack enough to keep your blood sugar up, but not with insulin-stimulating sweets or starches. Remember that hunger kills brain cells, just like getting drunk. Be careful of caffeine, which causes blood sugar swings, and never crash diet. Food sensitivities are common reactions that are not classic food allergies, so most conventional allergists underestimate the damage they do. They play a major role in mood disruption, much more frequently than most people realize. They cause chemical reactions in the body that destabilize blood sugar and wreak havoc upon hormonal and neurotransmitter balance. This can trigger depression, anxiety, impaired concentration, insomnia, and hyperactivity. The most common sensitivities, unfortunately, are to the foods people most often overconsume: wheat, milk, eggs, corn, soy, and peanuts. The average American gets about 75 percent of her calories from just 10 favorite foodstuffs, and this narrow range of eating disrupts the digestive process and causes abnormal reactions. If a particular food doesn’t agree with you and commonly causes heartburn, gas, bloating, water weight gain, a craving for more, or a burst of nervous energy, you’re probably reactive to it. There are several good books on the subject, and there are many labs that test for sensitivities. Ask a chiropractor, naturopath, or doctor of integrative medicine about them. Don’t expect much help from a conventional allergist. Exercise and Mood Dozens of studies indicate that exercise is often as effective for depression as medication, partly because it increases production of stimulating hormones, such as norepinephrine, and also because it increases oxygen flow to the brain. Exercise can, in addition, help relieve and prevent anxiety, creating a so-called tranquilizer effect that persists for about 4 hours after exercising. Exercise also decreases the biological stress response, which dampens the automatic fear reaction. It is also uniquely effective at causing secretion of Nerve Growth Factor, one of the limited number of substances that cause brain cells to grow. Another benefit of exercise is that it increases endorphin output by about 500 percent and decreases the incidence of major and minor illnesses. For mood, the ideal amount is 30 to 45 minutes of cardiovascular exercise daily. Studies show that exercising less than 30 minutes or more than 1 hour decreases mood benefits.

He laid out the defining characteristics, workflow, and management as follows. A two-pizza team will: Be small. No more than ten people. Be autonomous. They should have no need to coordinate with other teams to get their work done. With the new service-based software architecture in place, any team could simply refer to the published application programming interfaces (APIs) for other teams. (More on this new software architecture to follow.) Be evaluated by a well-defined “fitness function.” This is the sum of a weighted series of metrics. Example: a team that is in charge of adding selection in a product category might be evaluated on: a)  how many new distinct items were added for the period (50 percent weighting) b)  how many units of those new distinct items were sold (30 percent weighting) c)  how many page views those distinct items received (20 percent weighting) Be monitored in real time. A team’s real-time score on its fitness function would be displayed on a dashboard next to all the other two-pizza teams’ scores. Be the business owner. The team will own and be responsible for all aspects of its area of focus, including design, technology, and business results. This paradigm shift eliminates the all-too-often heard excuses such as, “We built what the business folks asked us to, they just asked for the wrong product,” or “If the tech team had actually delivered what we asked for and did it on time, we would have hit our numbers.” Be led by a multidisciplined top-flight leader. The leader must have deep technical expertise, know how to hire world-class software engineers and product managers, and possess excellent business judgment. Be self-funding. The team’s work will pay for itself. Be approved in advance by the S-Team. The S-Team must approve the formation of every two-pizza team.

Her momma finds her stray hair still left in the bathroom sink. Where she combed out her ratty do for what seemed like forever. Staring at herself in the mirror and pulling and teasing and shaping all that her stingy god would give her and nothing ever more. She’d contemplate her face there. Her flat wide nose and dark eyes and the combinations. She’d test her looks to see how she looked when she kissed. She'd extend her tongue as far out of her mouth as she could to check out how long it was and if she had anything extra special to offer. And what she'd have to do to serve it up. Momma grabs a kleenex and cleans around the deep rust stains in the sink. Does she throw away the old dry hairs crumbled in her hand under the tissue or keep such sad memories. Does she store them in a drawer or is she just being silly. Should she cherish this precious angel manna or try and just fucking get over it. Not give into it. Could she even possibly throw them away into the garbage without bawling uncontrollably. Can she possibly change the urge over from utter despair. When she sees her child getting brutally raped and hammered into, her baby's baby fingers digging into the rocks and dirt she can pass by daily. A dilapidated pit that crumbles in the middle of all their continuing lives and remains standing out of sheer old bull-headed promise and well organized planning. The forefathers of this neighborhood didn't count on the incredibly heavy weight of the public’s filthy laziness. My poor baby. My poor baby. She has to seek help. This nameless faceless mother. She can’t deal with this all alone. She can’t quit these imaginings from her old yellowed eyes and ears and off her cleaning washing working fingertips and the very constant edges of her smaller brain. The sickness that slipped thick repetitive blobs of useless male sperm and thin streams of rust washed metal stripping toxins bleeding down her daughter’s black throat may or may not be only one in a great number of difficult dreams and attempts but she just can’t find a polite perspective anymore. She can’t live like this any longer. She should have offered her child more than a dirty smudged mirror in a peeling and running bathroom when she got home from a dirty hot school every damn day. Where were the cops? And the doctors who were supposed to save her? And the fucking psychiatrists who could have done some trepanning into that evil dog's motherfucking bursting crack head before he was let out on the streets with his glass dick and his screaming pussy hunting cock. Dogs don't need help. They need to be put down.

However, inspired by the fund, WFIA in November 1973 launched a simpler fund open to all the bank’s institutional clients—seeded with $5 million from Wells Fargo’s own pension fund and an equal amount from Illinois Bell’s retirement system—that would simply seek to mimic the performance of the S&P 500.* At the time, this accounted for about two-thirds of the entire US stock market anyway,20 and the index was “capitalization-weighted”—in other words, the weighting of each company was according to its overall stock market value, and the fund would just have to buy an equal number of shares in each company. By 1976, Samsonite folded the money in its original vehicle into WFIA’s S&P 500 index fund.

Ponder this: From 1983 to 2008, the number of people in the world with diabetes increased sevenfold, from 35 to 240 million. In just three years, from 2008 to 2011, we added another 110 million diabetics to our global population. Shouldn’t the main question we ask be why is this happening? instead of what new drug can we find to treat it?

Realize that weight is just a number, so develop a healthy relationship with the scale. It’s very liberating.

Stop Buying the Protein Myth A common myth that persists and persists is that it’s difficult to get enough protein from a vegan diet. Let’s just put that myth to rest. The fact is, people on the standard American diet (SAD) eat nearly twice the recommended daily amount of protein—which can actually be unhealthy. According to the U.S. Food and Nutrition Board, recommended protein intake should be calculated according to your weight and age; it recommends 0.8 grams of protein per kilo of body weight, meaning that the average woman requires approximately 50 grams of protein per day, 56 grams for the average man. These guidelines also indicate that the preferred form of protein is from nonanimal sources, such as beans, legumes, nuts, and seeds. These protein sources are also naturally lower in fat, too, again supporting your weight loss efforts. Most of the fats they do contain are unsaturated and they’re always cholesterol free. To put it more simply, your average daily protein intake should be about 15 to 20 percent of your total daily calories (other sources say it can be even less—more like 10.7 percent)—a number easy to get to on a plant-based diet. There is protein in just about everything. So as long as you are eating a varied diet of whole grains, beans, and legumes, vegetables, fruits, and meat and dairy alternatives, you will be just fine. No, there is absolutely no need to consume animal foods to get enough protein. In fact the American Dietetic Association holds that vegan diets provide more than enough protein, even without any special food combinations. Nutritionists used to think you needed to eat “complementary proteins”— beans and rice, for example—in one sitting to get all the nutrients we needed. We now know that’s not true. As long as you are eating a bit of everything throughout the day, all is well.

For some politics has become a battle ground that allows them to vent their frustrations, while at the same time hide behind the anonymity of the social media. For others it has become a weapon to overwhelm their opponents by the weight of the number of comments sent to the originator of the blog or article. Fair or not, this method of cyber warfare works and could possibly change the course of history. A continuance of this cyber activity is still not totally understood by most bloggers, but certainly can be threatening and intimidating. Recently we have witnessed where foreign countries become involved in the attempt to rig elections by altering the mind set of those receiving overwhelming amounts of mostly altered news. This is certainly presently true in France. In Pakistan a student was murdered by his fellow students, simply because he had a difference of opinion. Art has become a victim of this form of attack, being accused of being a financial drain on the country’s economy whereas it, in all of its forms, is a stabilizer of civilization. Helping and feeding those less fortunate then ourselves also stabilizes a good society. On the opposite side of this topic a destabilizing activity is war, which cost us much more, however it does get us to alter our focus. It is the threat of nuclear annihilation that really gets our attention and may even eventually offer job opportunities to the survivors. I feel certain that the opposing sides of these issues are already marshaling their forces and stand fast to their beliefs. You would think that funding for the arts should be non-political, however I have found it to be a hot button issue, whereas going to war is accepted by an overwhelming majority of people, even before we attempt peaceful diplomatic negotiations. Building a wall separating us from Mexico is a great idea that is embraced by many who still believe that Mexico will eventually pay for it, but our “Affordable Health Care” must be thrown out! What will give our people more bang for the buck? An improved health care Bill or a Beautiful Wall? I’ve heard that Medicare and Social Security are things we can no longer afford, but it’s the same people who still believe that we can afford a nuclear war. These are issues that we can and should address, however I’ll just get back to my books and deal with the pro or anti Castro activists, or neo-Nazis, or whoever else wants to make a political statement. My next book “Seawater One….” will have some sex in it…. Perhaps we can all agree that, that’s a good thing or perhaps not.

Eyeing stairs that now seemed downright daunting, he drew in a breath, hitched Miss Plum up a little higher in the hopes it would distribute her weight more evenly, then began to climb, counting the steps as he did so. “. . . forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine . . . You’re really quite sturdy, aren’t you, Miss Plum? Fifty . . .” By the time he eventually reached the tower room, he was completely out of breath, perspiration was dribbling down his face, and his arms were no longer simply quivering, they were now downright shaking. Stepping through the door of the tower room, he faltered for a moment, wondering what he should do next. “You can just set me down right here, Mr. Haverstein.” Miss Plum’s voice took him by such surprise that he almost dropped her right on the hard stone floor of the tower room. Looking down, he frowned when he saw something in her lovely eyes that he’d never, not once, expected to see, something that resembled, if he wasn’t much mistaken . . . amusement. He’d always been under the impression that Miss Plum, being a fragile sort, possessed a somber and serious demeanor, spending her time away from the theater in a subdued fashion, embroidering samplers, or perhaps pillows, as she lounged on a settee, or learning her lines from the comfort of her bedchamber, but . . . what if he’d been wrong? What if Miss Plum was not as delicate as he’d believed, and what if the woman he’d been enamored with for what seemed like a very long time, turned out to be completely different than what he’d imagined her to be? “How long have you been out of your swoon?” he asked. “Would you be very upset to learn that I never swoon?” His mouth immediately took to gaping open. “Do you mean to tell me that you allowed me to scoop you up off the ground—which wasn’t an easy task by the way—carry you into the castle, and then all the way up a tremendous number of steps when there was absolutely nothing wrong with you?” “I did.” “I could have suffered an injury.” “You seem to be remarkably fit, Mr. Haverstein, and I certainly couldn’t own up to the fact I was feigning my condition, especially since I was doing so to aid dear Abigail.” Bram set her on her feet and rubbed his arms. “My arms feel like jelly.” “I’m sure they do. You carried me a remarkably long distance, and I will admit that I was concerned you were going to drop me a time or two.” She pursed her lips. “Quite honestly, I was going to tell you to put me down right about step number forty-nine, but then you made that remark about how sturdy I am, and . . . I changed my mind.” “I said that out loud?” “Indeed.” “I do beg your pardon.” Miss

If sex is not just about reproduction, it is not just about genes, XY chromosomes, and hormones either. Sex is introduced to explain skeletal structure, mental aptitude, posture, emotional disposition, aesthetic preference, body fat, sexual orientation and responsiveness, athletic ability, social dominance, shape and weight, artistic ability. It is also supposed to explain any number of so-called "instincts", including the nesting instinct, the maternal instinct, and perhaps even the Budweiser instinct.

I’m pretty sure Number 1 wasn’t even aware that he was using a man’s deadliest weapon against women. He exposed his vulnerability. Over the years, I would repeat a pattern of chronically caving to that same behavior. It didn’t matter whether or not I liked or respected him. Every time he dared to let his guard down and unveil some of his ugliest, grittiest faces, I whole-heartedly believed I was the only person on earth being let in on a secret. It was a mirage of a connection. Despite his faults and my prior resistance, I felt an obligation to uphold that bond. No matter what kind of person he was or how toxic he could have been, I saw beauty in that fleeting defenselessness as if he were an infant, innocent and untainted by the evils of the world. I always fell in love with that face in every man. I clutched that memory tightly, despite the fact that its weight wore my arms and drug my pace. I was so focused on remembering their moment of weakness that I was blind to who they normally were

I think the United States' mission community, by sheer weight of numbers, and because the U.S. churches and missions are so wealthy, probably find it even harder than we do to stand back from power and leadership, and from assuming that some of the ideas and strategies that originate with us are just what the Global South is longing to receive. "The painful fact is that much of the Global South simply does not want our ideas and strategies, and prefers to work in ways far better suited to their contexts-and we need to learn far more profoundlyto serve gladly underSouthern leadership, even when what we are asked to do doesn't seem to us to be the best way to do things.

Obesity is so rampant that it seems contagious. It’s an epidemic now, and it’s spreading to other countries— the British are gaining, the Chinese are gaining, even the French are gaining— which makes it a pandemic. There are frantic efforts to make it stop. Weight Watchers and Overeaters Anonymous were just early tactics in a long war that would go on to include the Pritikin Principle, the Scarsdale Medical Diet, Slimfast, the Atkins Diet, the South Beach Diet, The Zone, Nutrisystem, Jenny Craig, the Blood Type Diet, the Mediterranean Diet, the Master Cleanse, the DASH diet, the Cabbage Soup Diet, the Paleo Diet, and the Raw Diet. Americans have eaten fat- burning grapefruits, consumed cabbage soup for seven straight days, calculated their daily points target, followed the easy and customizable menu plan, dialed the 1- 800 number to speak to a live weight- loss counselor, taken cider vinegar pills, snacked strategically, eliminated high- glycemic vegetables during the fourteen- day induction phase, achieved a 40:30:30 calorie ratio, brought insulin and glucagon into balance, sought scientific guidance from celebrities, abstained from the deadly cultural practice known as cooking, tanned and then bled themselves to more fully mimic the caveman state, asked that the chef please prepare the omelet with no yolks, and attained the fat- burning metabolic nirvana known as ketosis. It has all been a terrible, amazing failure.

If your coping mechanism to date has been to ignore your weight, don't feel badly. You're in good company. I've done my share of standing on the doctor's scale backwards, cringing as the nurse scribbled on the clipboard, anxious when the doctor came in glancing over my record. I scrutinized his face for any semblance of judgment. Whether or not I faced the scale or the doctor skipped a pep talk, it didn't change the truth and it still pervaded every hour of my waking thoughts. I knew what I needed to do and just agonizingly prolonged it. What about you? We want our lies to be true--desperately. We think it means less work, less pain. But aren't we experiencing work and pain every day when we are obese? We don't escape it, we just reallocate it, attach it to different problems. The sooner we face the numbers and start to deal with them, the sooner we can resolve them.

SONG: Human written by:Christina Perri verse 1 I can hold my breath I can bite my tongue I can stay awake for days If that's what you want Be your number one I can fake a smile I can force a laugh I can dance and play the part If that's what you ask Give you all I am I can do it I can do it I can do it CHORUS But I'm only human And I bleed when I fall down I'm only human And I crash and break down Your words in my head , knives in my heart You build me up and then I fall apart I'm only human,yeah verse 2 I can turn it on be a good machine I can hold the weight of worlds If that's what you need Be your everything I can do it I can do it I get though it CHORUS But I'm only human and I bleed when I fall down I'm only human and I crash and break down your words in my head,knives in my heart you build me up and I fall apart cause I'm only human,yeah I'm only human I'm only human Just a little human I can take so much until I've had enough Cause I'm only human And I bleed and I fall down I'm only human and I crash and break down your words in my head , knives in my heart you build me up and I fall apart Cause I'm only human , YEAH.

Human written by:Christina Perri verse 1 I can hold my breath I can bite my tongue I can stay awake for days If that's what you want Be your number one I can fake a smile I can force a laugh I can dance and play the part If that's what you ask Give you all I am I can do it I can do it I can do it CHORUS But I'm only human And I bleed when I fall down I'm only human And I crash and break down Your words in my head , knives in my heart You build me up and then I fall apart I'm only human,yeah verse 2 I can turn it on be a good machine I can hold the weight of worlds If that's what you need Be your everything I can do it I can do it I get though it CHORUS But I'm only human and I bleed when I fall down I'm only human and I crash and break down your words in my head,knives in my heart you build me up and I fall apart cause I'm only human,yeah I'm only human I'm only human Just a little human I can take so much until I've had enough Cause I'm only human And I bleed and I fall down I'm only human and I crash and break down your words in my head , knives in my heart you build me up and I fall apart Cause I'm only human , YEAH.

I’m pretty sure Number 1 wasn’t even aware that he was using a man’s deadliest weapon against women. He exposed his vulnerability. Over the years, I would repeat a pattern of chronically caving to that same behavior. It didn’t matter whether or not I liked or respected him. Every time he dared to let his guard down and unveil some of his ugliest, grittiest faces, I whole-heartedly believed I was the only person on earth being let in on a secret. It was a mirage of a connection. Despite his faults and my prior resistance, I felt an obligation to uphold that bond. No matter what kind of person he was or how toxic he could have been, I saw beauty in that fleeting defenselessness as if he were an infant, innocent and untainted by the evils of the world. I always fell in love with that face in every man. I clutched that memory tightly, despite the fact that its weight wore my arms and drug my pace. I was so focused on remembering their moment of weakness that I was blind to who they normally were.

I lived in a picture perfect subdivision with color coordinated houses and mailboxes, yellow labs prancing within the borders of invisible electric fences, and balding dads on riding lawn mowers. It was the type of community where housewives spent their summers tanning by the pool, half-heartedly watching their Ritalin pumped brat beat another brat with a foam noodle while rehashing Sunday’s Bible study between whispers of Susie’s weight gain and Dan’s canoodling with the babysitter.

The rifle was disassembled into its component parts, with its stock, barrel, grip, and scope separate to allow it to fit inside a standard-sized briefcase. There was also a long suppressor. Victor’s was the latest variant of the SVD, with stock and hand guards made from high-density polymer to lighten the weight, instead of the original wood furniture. Though not as sophisticated or accurate at long range as some Western sniper rifles, Victor had a fondness for the Dragunov because of its reliability in all conditions and its no-nonsense mechanics. As a semi-automatic rifle, the Dragunov had a much better rate of fire than a typical bolt-action sniper rifle, though the greater number of moving parts that made the rifle semi-automatic also made it less accurate than a bolt-action. But as a semi-auto the SVD could also be used as an assault rifle and was fitted with conventional iron sights and bayonet mount for just such a use. The Soviet philosophy on arms manufacture had been ease of use and reliability over accuracy, and Victor had found there to be a lot of merit in the ideal. Weapons that were world beaters on the range weren’t much use if they didn’t work under battlefield conditions

In that moment, I truly felt the weight of our actions. Looking at him physically hurt me. Any normal person would've ran in the other direction, morally disgusted by his behavior. Probably even tell someone of authority. But I didn’t, and I wouldn't. Especially since I didn't think it was disgusting. After all, my dad was twenty-three years older than my mom. Age was just a number to me.

Cesium!" Understanding came to Hank Mahenili. Any informed engineer knew the importance of this element. "Just what is cesium, Dad? And what is it used for?" "Technically, son, its atomic number is 55, and its atomic weight is 132.91. Its use?" Mr. Brewster smiled. "I’ll tell you this, we’ll never get to the moon without it." "You mean it’s used in rocket propulsion?" Biff asked. "That’s right, Biff. It’s a high-thrust, long-life rocket propulsion fuel. Most costly." "More than gold?" Li asked eagerly. "Much more, Li. If you and Biff had about ten pounds of it between you, you’d have your education paid at any college you wanted to go to—M.I.T., Cal Tech—any of them." "Wow! Must be worth more than a thousand dollars a pound, then," Biff said, his voice filled with amazement.

Ingenious and original as Fibonacci’s exercises were, if the book had dealt only with theory it would probably not have attracted much attention beyond a small circle of mathematical cognoscenti. It commanded an enthusiastic following, however, because Fibonacci filled it with practical applications. For example, he described and illustrated many innovations that the new numbers made possible in commercial bookkeeping, such as figuring profit margins, money-changing, conversions of weights and measures, and—though usury was still prohibited in many places—he even included calculations of interest payments. Liber Abaci provided just the kind of stimulation that a man as brilliant and creative as the Emperor Frederick would be sure to enjoy. Though Frederick, who ruled from 1211 to 1250, exhibited cruelty and an obsession with earthly power, he was genuinely interested in science, the arts, and the philosophy of government. In Sicily, he destroyed all the private garrisons and feudal castles, taxed the clergy, and banned them from civil office. He also set up an expert bureaucracy, abolished internal tolls, removed all regulations inhibiting imports, and shut down the state monopolies. Frederick tolerated no rivals. Unlike his grandfather, Frederick Barbarossa, who was humbled by the Pope at the Battle of Legnano in 1176, this Frederick reveled in his endless battles with the papacy. His intransigence brought him not just one excommunication, but two. On the second occasion, Pope Gregory IX called for Frederick to be deposed, characterizing him as a heretic, rake, and anti-Christ. Frederick responded with a savage attack on papal territory; meanwhile his fleet captured a large delegation of prelates on their way to Rome to join the synod that had been called to remove him from power.

Should you be eating soy? There’s been some debate about soy due to the perception of its carrying estrogen, but I want you to understand that phytoestrogens aren’t estrogen, nor do they act like human estrogen. Instead, phytoestrogens are isoflavones, one of the unique phytochemicals in soy beans. There are actually three soy isoflavones: genistein, daidzein, and glycitein. They have a number of health benefits, including: lowering cholesterol, strengthening bones, treating menopausal symptoms, lowering risk of coronary heart disease, and reducing risk of prostate/colon/breast/ovarian cancers. Want even more good news about soy? There are certain gut bacteria that can convert soy isoflavones into an even more beneficial compound called equol. This is like a supercharged isoflavone, giving you even more cardiovascular, bone, and menopausal health benefits. Unfortunately, you need to have the bacteria in order to do this. Equol can be produced by 50 to 60 percent of Asian people but just 30 percent of Westerners. For what it’s worth, diets high in carbohydrates (really meaning fiber) and low in saturated fat are associated with equol production, while antibiotics appear to hinder it. I recommend consuming only non-GMO and organic soy in its whole-foods forms: edamame, tofu, miso, tempeh, tamari, and unsweetened soy milk. Model your soy consumption after the way they do it in Asia. For some delicious ways to consume soy, check out the recipes in Chapter 10.

Before he could look up Houston’s number, Ellen returned, daisy-bright in a full-skirted summer dress. He couldn’t tell her she was so beautiful it hurt; he substituted a dry question, “Just how much excess weight did you carry out here?

Since the carb police have been patrolling twenty-four hours a day, bread seems to have become public enemy number one. To me it’s just sad that so many people are forgoing one of life’s most elemental pleasures for the sake of a dead-end weight-loss strategy.

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After several years of channeling, [my spirit guide,] Orin told me that he wanted to teach me about the future and probably realities. For a period of several months, he gave me various preditions which came true. Several times he gave me exact newspaper headlines and dates, several months prior to their occurring. All the predictions centered around mass events. In all these events he would point out that they were already being set up, envisioned and planned by those in charge and he was only projecting events by reading the mass mind and probably outcomes. He told me that large scale event are easier to predict because they have energy lines from mass consciousness set up many months in advance. The psychic weight of these events, the mass agreement around them, the numbers of people involved, make it much harde to stop or change such events. One person can change his mind and thus change his future easily; but an event affecting many people is not usually altered by just one person changing his mind.

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To say that concrete is everywhere is hardly an exaggeration. Despite the fact that we only began mass producing this mixture of sand, aggregates and cement just over a century ago, there are now more than 80 tonnes of concrete on this planet for every person alive – around 650 gigatonnes in total. To put that slightly meaningless number into perspective, it is considerably more than the combined weight of every single living thing on the planet: every cow, every tree, every human, plant, animal, bacterium and single-celled organism. Each year we produce enough concrete around the world to cover the entire landmass of England.

The Slow-Carb Diet® Cheat Sheet Many people lose hope when trying to lose weight. Fortunately, it need not be complicated. Though I regularly fast and enter ketosis, the Slow-Carb Diet (SCD) has been my default diet for more than a decade. It works almost beyond belief and affects much more than appearance. From one reader: “I just wanted to sincerely thank Tim for taking the time to research and write The 4-Hour Body. My mom, in her late 60s, lost 45 pounds and got off her high blood pressure meds that she had been on for 20+ years. She did all this in about 3 months. This means that I get to have her around for a long time.” The basic rules are simple, all followed 6 days per week: Rule #1: Avoid “white” starchy carbohydrates (or those that can be white). This means all bread, pasta, rice, potatoes, and grains (yes, including quinoa). If you have to ask, don’t eat it. Rule #2: Eat the same few meals over and over again, especially for breakfast and lunch. Good news: You already do this. You’re just picking new default meals. If you want to keep it simple, split your plate into thirds: protein, veggies, and beans/legumes. Rule #3: Don’t drink calories. Exception: 1 to 2 glasses of dry red wine per night is allowed, although this can cause some peri-/post-menopausal women to plateau. Rule #4: Don’t eat fruit. (Fructose → glycerol phosphate → more body fat, more or less.) Avocado and tomatoes are allowed. Rule #5: Whenever possible, measure your progress in body fat percentage, NOT total pounds. The scale can deceive and derail you. For instance, it’s common to gain muscle while simultaneously losing fat on the SCD. That’s exactly what you want, but the scale number won’t move, and you will get frustrated. In place of the scale, I use DEXA scans, a BodyMetrix home ultrasound device, or calipers with a gym professional (I recommend the Jackson-Pollock 7-point method). And then: Rule #6: Take one day off per week and go nuts. I choose and recommend Saturday. This is “cheat day,” which a lot of readers also call “Faturday.” For biochemical and psychological reasons, it’s important not to hold back. Some readers keep a “to-eat” list during the week, which reminds them that they’re only giving up vices for 6 days at a time. Comprehensive step-by-step details, including Q&As and troubleshooting, can be found in The 4-Hour Body, but the preceding outline is often enough to lose 20 pounds in a month, and drop 2 clothing sizes. Dozens of readers have lost 100–200 pounds on the SCD. My 6-Piece Gym in a Bag I take these 6 items with me whenever I travel.

The time-restricted mice gained less weight than the mice that ate whenever they wanted, even though the two groups consumed the same number of calories. This study gave birth to the eight-hour diet fad, but somehow people lost sight of the fact that this is a big extrapolation from research in mice. Because a mouse lives for only about two to three years—and will die after just forty-eight hours without food—a sixteen-hour fast for a mouse is akin to a multiday fast for a human. It’s just not a valid comparison.

He stares at me through the dark of the cabin for a few seconds. Then his hand relaxes into mine, his warm, rough fingers settling. It gives me a surprising thrill to hold his hand. Ninety-five percent of the time, I see Alex Nilsen in a purely platonic way, and I’d guess his number hovers a bit higher. But for that other five percent of the time, there’s this what-if. It never lasts long or pushes too hard. It just sits there, cupped between our hands, a gentle thought without much weight behind it: What would it be like to kiss him? How would he touch me? Would he taste the way he smells? No one has better dental hygiene than Alex, which isn’t exactly a sexy thought but certainly sexier than the opposite end of the spectrum. And that’s about as far as the thought ever goes, which is perfect, because I like Alex way too much to date him. Plus we’re entirely incompatible.

On the face of it, it seems preposterous to think that walking doesn’t help with weight loss. Recall that energy balance is the difference between the calories one ingests and the calories one spends. You probably burn roughly 50 calories more by walking a two-thousand-step mile than driving the same distance. So trudging ten thousand additional steps a day (five miles) will expend a respectable extra 250 calories per day.30 To be sure, those ten thousand added steps might make you hungrier, but if you snack sensibly and consume 100 calories less than you walked off, those supplementary steps will eventually amount to a deficit of about 3,000 calories a month. That amount is just shy of 3,500 calories, the supposed number of calories in a pound of fat according to a much-cited, overly simplistic, and inaccurate 1958 study.31 Further, low- to moderate-intensity activities like walking burn relatively more fat than carbohydrates (hence the “fat-burning zones” on some exercise machines).32 As a result, lots of people try to trudge away extra pounds. Biological systems such as bodies are messy, and anyone who has struggled to lose weight knows that simple theories rarely apply to the convoluted realities of weight loss. What works for one person fails for another, and while many people successfully shed pounds when they start a new weight-loss plan, satisfaction often turns to frustration as the initial rate of weight loss diminishes and then reverses. Study after study has shown that overweight or obese people prescribed standard doses of exercise for a few months usually lose at most a few pounds. For example, one experiment with the clever acronym DREW (Dose Response to Exercise in Women) assigned 464 women to 0, 70, 140, and 210 minutes of slow walking a week (140 minutes is about five added miles). Apart from their prescribed exercise, the women took about five thousand additional steps per day as they went about their normal activities. After six months, those prescribed the standard 140 minutes a week lost only five pounds, while those assigned 210 minutes lost a paltry three pounds (more on this unexpected result below).33 Other controlled studies on overweight men and women report similarly modest losses.34

An expedition to Antarctica is one of the best kept secrets in adventure travel. You wear the same clothes every day with the side benefit of not having to do laundry. You can create any number of South Pole hairstyles using your natural buildup of oil ‘product.’ You pack up your house every single morning, so you’re treated to a different view every night. You never have to wonder, ‘What’s for dinner?’ because it is always a just-add-hot-water dehydrated meal. Your hole-in-the-ground alfresco bathroom keeps unpleasant odors at bay. And you eat as much as is humanly possible and still lose weight. Yes, an expedition in Antarctica is the ultimate couples’ getaway with endless undisturbed time together.

In the traditional (biologically inspired) setup each neuron effectively has a certain set of “incoming connections” from the neurons on the previous layer, with each connection being assigned a certain “weight” (which can be a positive or negative number). The value of a given neuron is determined by multiplying the values of “previous neurons” by their corresponding weights, then adding these up and adding a constant—and finally applying a “thresholding” (or “activation”) function. In mathematical terms, if a neuron has inputs x = {x1, x2 ...} then we compute f[w . x + b], where the weights w and constant b are generally chosen differently for each neuron in the network; the function f is usually the same. Computing w . x + b is just a matter of matrix multiplication and addition. The “activation function” f introduces nonlinearity (and ultimately is what leads to nontrivial behavior). Various activation functions commonly get used; here we’ll just use Ramp (or ReLU):

But having just lived through the bubble and bust, Graham believed that investors put too much weight on short-term earnings trends, especially if they were strongly positive. “We cannot be sure that a trend of profits shown in the past will continue in the future,” Graham wrote. “The law of diminishing returns and of increasing competition . . . must finally flatten out any sharply upward curve of growth. There is also the flow and ebb of the business cycle, from which the particular danger arises that the earnings curve will look most impressive on the very eve of a serious setback.”18 Further, Graham warned, “There is no method of establishing a logical relationship between trend and price. This means that the value placed upon a satisfactory trend must be wholly arbitrary, and hence speculative, and hence inevitably subject to exaggeration and later collapse.

The first step is to visualize what the inside of your drawer will look like when you finish. The goal should be to organize the contents so that you can see where every item is at a glance, just as you can see the spines of the books on your bookshelves. The key is to store things standing up rather than laid flat. Some people mimic store displays, folding each piece of clothing into a large square and then arranging them one on top of the other in layers. This is great for temporary sales displays in stores, but not what we should be aiming for at home, where our relationship with these clothes is long term. To store clothes standing, they must be made compact, which means more folds. Some people believe that more folds means more wrinkles, but this is not the case. It is not the number of folds but rather the amount of pressure applied that causes wrinkling. Even lightly folded clothes will wrinkle if they are stored in a pile because the weight of the clothes acts like a press.

Aim higher, more ambitious or more audacious than the goal you are currently struggling with, and that will help you get those lower goals done. If you've got to get to that big goal, you've got to do that other thing to get there. That other thing may have otherwise been a gigantic goal for you with all this weight. But now that it becomes the number two goal on the way to the bigger goal, it becomes this mindset of "I just got to get this thing done" on your way to the bigger goal, because this is one of the lower goals now.

CHIP doesn’t provide meals—just advice and encouragement, empowering people with knowledge.2505 Within a month on the program, blood sugars, cholesterol, and blood pressures dropped enough for many participants to drop their antidiabetic, cholesterol-lowering, and blood pressure–lowering medications. Better numbers on fewer drugs, along with an average six-pound weight loss.

What's surprising about the 2016 election results isn't what happened. It's what didn't happen. Trump didn't lose by 30 points or win by 20 points. Most people who voted chose the same party in 2016 that they'd chosen in 2012. That isn't to say there was nothing at all distinct or worthy of study. Crucially, white voters without college educations swung sharply toward Trump, and their overrepresentation in electorally key states won him the election. But the campaign, by the numbers, was mostly a typical contest between a Republican and a Democrat. The fact that voters ultimately treated Trump as if he were just another Republican speaks to the enormous weight party polarization now exerts on our politics.

It was just a word. It had no weight, no atomic number, no chemical structure with which it could bind to and thus make it real. But it hurt.

Max had left a week’s supply of foul-smelling dog food and two pages of instructions about doggie daycare. Neve had expected advice about dog-walking, worming tablets and the vet’s emergency phone number, but it turned out that Max had a very dim view of her dog-sitting abilities: • Do NOT let him in your bedroom. • It also goes without saying that he is NOT to sleep on your bed. • Do NOT let him in the bathroom. He’ll try to drink out of the toilet bowl. • Do NOT feed him at the table. He eats dog food not human food. • And do NOT give him chocolate. I’m serious. Human chocolate can make dogs very ill. Have left a bag of liver treats instead. • He doesn’t like old men, especially if they have walking sticks or zimmer frames. • He doesn’t like balloons, carrier bags or kites. • Also avoid small children. • A small child trying to fly a kite, while holding a balloon and a carrier bag in their other hand would just about finish him off. By the time Neve went to bed that night, Keith had stayed in the bathroom while she had a shower (and tried to get in the cubicle to drink the water), because he’d barked and scrabbled at the door so hard, she’d feared for her paintwork. He’d also had a piece of steamed haddock from her plate because she hadn’t been able to eat dinner without his nose in her crotch and his paw prodding her leg until she fed him. Neve had secretly suspected that Keith wouldn’t have so many emotional issuesif Max refused to indulge him, but it turned out that she was the softest of soft touches, unable to wield any sort of discipline or say, ‘No, Keith, you have to sleep in the lounge,’ in an authoritative voice. She’d lasted five minutes until the sound of Keith whimpering and howling and generally giving the impression that he was being tortured had forced her into the living room to pick up his bed, and his toys and his water bowl. But if he had to sleep in her room, then he could do it in his own bed, Neve reasoned as she sat up, eyes fixed on Keith. Every time she took her gaze off him and tried to read, he’d dive out of his bed and start advancing towards her. ‘Back to your basket, you wicked boy,’ she’d say and he’d slink away, eyes downcast, only to be given away by the joyous wag of his stumpy tale, as if it was the best gameever. It was inevitable – as soon as Neve turned out the light, there was a scrabble of claws on the wooden floor, then a dead weight landed on her feet. ‘Bad dog,’ she snapped, but they could both tell her heart wasn’t in it. Besides, if Keith stayed at the bottom of the bed, he could double up as a hot-water bottle. Keith had other ideas. He wriggled up the bed on his belly as if he was being stealthy and settled down next to Neve, batting his paws against her back until she was shoved right over and he could put his head on her pillow and pant hot doggy breath against her face. ‘Celia was right,’ Neve grumbled. ‘You are a devil dog.

The reference point argument is as follows: do not compute odds from the vantage point of the winning gambler (or the lucky Casanova, or the endlessly bouncing back New York City, or the invincible Carthage), but from all those who started in the cohort. Consider once again the example of the gambler. If you look at the population of beginning gamblers taken as a whole, you can be close to certain that one of them (but you do not know in advance which one) will show stellar results just by luck. So, from the reference point of the beginning cohort, this is not a big deal. But from the reference point of the winner (and, who does not, and this is key, take the losers into account), a long string of wins will appear to be too extraordinary an occurrence to be explained by luck. Note that a “history” is just a series of numbers through time. The numbers can represent degrees of wealth, fitness, weight, anything.

Burley Coulter himself was one of the best perquisites of my office. Burley was nineteen years older than I was, old enough to have been my father, and in fact he was the same age my father would have been if he had lived. He was the most interesting man I ever knew. He was in his way an adventurer. And something worthy of notice was always going on in his head. I found him to be a surprising man, unpredictable, and at the same time always true to himself and recognizable in what he did. I had lived in Port William several years before I realized that Burley was proud of me for being a reader of books; he was not himself a devoted reader, but he thought it was excellent that I should be. It must have been 1940 or 1941 when he first came all the way into my upstairs room and saw my books in my little bookcase. “Do you read in them?” “Yes,” I said. He gave the shelves a long study, not reading the titles, apparently just assaying in his mind the number and weight of the books, their varying sizes and colors, the printing on their spines. And then he nodded his approval and said, “Well, that’s all right.” I knew him for forty years, about, and saw him endure the times and suffer the changes, and we were always friends.

There was no one else in the elevator, and we rode in a silence that became increasingly tense. I shifted my weight from side to side and fiddled with one of the two plastic cards the desk clerk had given us. I cleared my throat. “So here we are,” I said. “Heading up to our hotel room.” Murphy’s cheeks turned pink. “You are a pig, Dresden.” “Hey, I didn’t put any innuendo into that. You did it yourself.” She rolled her eyes, smiling a little. I watched numbers change on the elevator panel. I coughed. “Yes, sirree. Alone together.” “It’s a little weird,” she admitted. “A little weird,” I agreed. “Should it be?” she asked. “I mean, we’re just working together. We’ve done that before.

The biggest impact of the Norman invasion was on the English language, which was replaced by French and Latin as the medium of government and law for three centuries. It might well have gone extinct, just as at least eight previous native languages of England had been, but most likely sheer weight of numbers and its established literature helped it survive.

Chapatis will soon become EXTINCT A renowned cardiologist explains how eliminating wheat can IMPROVE your health. Cardiologist William Davis, MD, started his career repairing damaged hearts through angioplasty and bypass surgeries. “That’s what I was trained to do, and at first, that’s what I wanted to do,” he explains. But when his own mother died of a heart attack in 1995, despite receiving the best cardiac care, he was forced to face nagging concerns about his profession. "I’d fix a patient’s heart, only to see him come back with the same problems. It was just a band-aid, with no effort to identify the cause of the disease.” So he moved his practice toward highly uncharted medical territory prevention and spent the next 15 years examining the causes of heart disease in his patients. The resulting discoveries are revealed in "Wheat Belly", his New York Times best-selling book, which attributes many of our physical problems, including heart disease, diabetes and obesity, to our consumption of wheat. Eliminating wheat can “transform our lives.” What is a “Wheat Belly”? Wheat raises your blood sugar dramatically. In fact, two slices of wheat bread raise your blood sugar more than a Snickers bar. "When my patients give up wheat, weight loss was substantial, especially from the abdomen. People can lose several inches in the first month." You make connections between wheat and a host of other health problems. Eighty percent of my patients had diabetes or pre-diabetes. I knew that wheat spiked blood sugar more than almost anything else, so I said, “Let’s remove wheat from your diet and see what happens to your blood sugar.” They’d come back 3 to 6 months later, and their blood sugar would be dramatically reduced. But they also had all these other reactions: “I removed wheat and I lost 38 pounds.” Or, “my asthma got so much better, I threw away two of my inhalers.” Or “the migraine headaches I’ve had every day for 20 years stopped within three days.” “My acid reflux is now gone.” “My IBS is better, my ulcerative colitis, my rheumatoid arthritis, my mood, my sleep . . .” and so on, and so on". When you look at the makeup of wheat, Amylopectin A, a chemical unique to wheat, is an incredible trigger of small LDL particles in the blood – the number one cause of heart disease. When wheat is removed from the diet, these small LDL levels plummet by 80 and 90 percent. Wheat contains high levels of Gliadin, a protein that actually stimulates appetite. Eating wheat increases the average person’s calorie intake by 400 calories a day. Gliadin also has opiate-like properties which makes it "addictive". Food scientists have known this for almost 20 years. Is eating a wheat-free diet the same as a gluten-free diet? Gluten is just one component of wheat. If we took the gluten out of it, wheat will still be bad since it will still have the Gliadin and the Amylopectin A, as well as several other undesirable components. Gluten-free products are made with 4 basic ingredients: corn starch, rice starch, tapioca starch or potato starch. And those 4 dried, powdered starches are some of the foods that raise blood sugar even higher. I encourage people to return to REAL food: Fruits Vegetables and nuts and seeds, Unpasteurized cheese , Eggs and meats Wheat really changed in the 70s and 80s due to a series of techniques used to increase yield, including hybridization. It was bred to be shorter and sturdier and also to have more Gliadin, (a potent appetite stimulant) The wheat we eat today is not the wheat that was eaten 100 years ago. If you stop eating breads/pasta/chapatis every day, and start eating chicken, eggs, salads and vegetables you still lose weight as these products don’t raise blood sugar as high as wheat, and it also doesn’t have the Amylopectin A or the Gliadin that stimulates appetite. You won’t have the same increase in calorie intake that wheat causes.

Isaac took a long swig from the unmarked bottle. He'd tasted her cider before, but this bottle was completely different, yet just as wonderful. The apple was more prominent, yet not sweet, almost funky but in a good, blue-cheese way. He held the bottle up to the light and could see the sediment swirling in the bottom. "This is amazing- so different from the other one." Sanna grinned. "You really like Olive? I wasn't sure when I blended it. Not everyone likes the murkiness." "Olive?" Sanna leaned against the counter, putting her weight on her wrist as she studied him for a long moment, her eyes squinting. She took a long drink from her own bottle. "I see colors when I make ciders. I can't explain it. Each juice has its own hue. That's what those paintings represent." She pointed at the watercolors over the fireplace. "A new color comes to me, and I blend the juices until I can re-create it in the flavor. And this one is Olive." "You color-code your ciders?" He struggled to understand what she was telling him. "No." She reached across the counter and pulled her journal toward her. She opened it and handed it to Isaac. As she sipped her cider, he studied the page, then the next page, then the next. On each was a swatch of layered color, all wildly different from one another- reds, greens, teals, colors he didn't really have names for. Next to the colors were measurements, apple varieties, percentages, and flavor notes. Scribbles filled the margins and equations contained both numbers and words. Things like sugars and acidity were measured and tested. It was part recipe book, part coloring book, and part wine label, with a hint of spell book. Looking at it was like opening a tiny door into the back of her head. She saw things that no one else did, an imaginary world of cider only she could see. "You can see the color in your head?" "It's the easiest way to explain it. A color pops into my head, and I know what it will taste like. When I blend the different raw ciders together, I know I have it right when it matches what I've imagined.

-It is possible to vastly compress most learning. In a surprising number of cases, it is possible to do something in 1-10 months that is assumed to take 1-10 years. -The more you compress things, the more physical limiters become a bottleneck. All learning is physically limited. The brain is dependent on finite quantities of neurotransmitters, memories require REM and non-REM (NREM) sleep for consolidation, etc. The learning graph is not unlike the stress-recovery-hyperadaptation curves of weight training. -The more extreme your ambition, just as in sports, the more you need performance enhancement via unusual schedules, diet, drugs, etc. -Most important: due to the bipolar nature of the learning process, you can forecast setbacks. If you don't, you increase the likelihood of losing morale and quitting before the inflection point.

Even if the body’s inflammatory response is a necessary part of its physiology to heal wounds, fight infection, and rebuild the muscles. However, too much inflammation leads to a number of conditions such as Alzheimer’s disease, atherosclerosis, arthritis, autonomous disorders, cancer, chronic pain, eczema, premature aging, and yeast infection. Sugar is an inflammatory food and having too much sugar in the body exposes it to a continuously inflamed state. Sugar detox helps prevent the foretasted conditions which put sugar addicts at a higher risk of contracting these conditions.

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You should acquire and own at least two kettlebells. They are not cheap, but they still may be the very cheapest and fastest exercise equipment. In terms of a lifelong strength and endurance aid, your kettlebell purchase may be among the best values in your life. Several forms of kettlebells are now available. Probably the best remain the black cast iron bells resembling a cannon ball. Other forms now include various colors, put on with a plastic coating. This coating may degrade with age. Not much degrades a black cast iron bell except rust. Make certain the kettlebell handle is well designed. For a two arm swing, both your hands grip the kettlebell. The handle should be sufficiently long that your hands are comfortable. I hook three fingers of each hand through the handle, with my little finger to the outside. You may try out a number of different weights in kettlebells and graduate to higher weights as your strength builds. They may be purchased in sets with various weights, such as 20, 25 and 30 pounds (9, 11.3, 13.6 kg).

Systems with two possible measurement outcomes are so common and useful in quantum mechanics that they are given a cute name: qubits. The idea is that a classical “bit” has just two possible values, say, 0 and 1. A qubit (quantum bit) is a system that has two possible measurement outcomes, say, spin-up and spin-down along some specified axis. The state of a generic qubit is a superposition of both possibilities, each weighted by a complex number, the amplitude for each alternative. Quantum computers manipulate qubits in the same way that ordinary computers manipulate classical bits.

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Increase of light and increase of labour have always gone hand in hand. If today, when our gaze is no longer able to penetrate the pale reflected glow over the city and its environs, we think back to the eighteenth century, it hardly seems possible that even then, before the Industrial Age, a great number of people, at least in some places, spent their lives with their wretched bodies strapped to looms made of wooden frames and rails, hung with weights, and reminiscent of instruments of torture or cages. It was a peculiar symbiosis which, perhaps because of its relatively primitive character, makes more apparent than any later form of factory work that we are able to maintain ourselves on this earth only by being harnessed to the machines we have invented. That weavers in particular, together with scholars and writers with whom they had much in common, tended to suffer from melancholy and all the evils associated with it, is understandable given the nature of their work, which forced them to sit bent over, day after day, straining to keep their eye on the complex patterns they created. It is difficult to imagine the depths of despair into which those can be driven who, even after the end of the working day, are engrossed in their intricate designs and who are pursued, into their dreams, by the feeling that they have got hold of the wrong thread. On the other hand, when we consider the weavers’ mental illnesses we should also bear in mind that many of the materials produced in the factories of Norwich in the decades before the Industrial Revolution began – silk brocades and watered tabinets, satins and satinettes, camblets and cheveretts, prunelles, callimancoes and florentines, diamantines and grenadines, blondines, bombazines, belle-isles and martiniques – were of a truly fabulous variety, and of an iridescent, quite indescribable beauty as if they had been produced by Nature itself, like the plumage of birds. – That, at any rate, is what I think when I look at the marvellous strips of colour in the pattern books, the edges and gaps filled with mysterious figures and symbols, that are kept in the small museum of Strangers Hall, which was once the town house of just such a family of silk weavers who had been exiled from France.