The incommodities of such a war. Whatever is the case in a time of war, where every man is an enemy to every man, the same is true when men live without any other security besides what can be gained by their own strength and invention. In such a condition there is no industry, because its fruit would be uncertain. There is no culture of the earth, no navigation, nor use of the commodities that may be imported by sea. There is no commodious building, no instruments of moving and removing those things that require much force. There is no knowledge of the face of the earth, no account of time, no arts, no letters and no society. Worst of all there is continual fear and danger of violent death, and the life of man is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short.

As he leaned over to pick up the desk, he felt a hand jab roughly between his thighs and another hand grab his hair.

Our world requires that decisions be sourced and footnoted, and if we say how we feel, we must also be prepared to elaborate on why we feel that way. I think that approach is a mistake, and if we are to learn to improve the quality of the decisions we make, we need to accept the mysterious nature of our snap judgments. We need to respect the fact that it is possible to know without knowing why we know and accept that - sometimes - we're better off that way.

The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don't.

Part of his brain told him that he knew perfectly well what he was looking at and what the shapes represented whilst another quite sensibly refused to countenance the idea and abdicated responsibility for any further thinking in that direction.

Maybe the worst part is how I end up worse off. Comments made, voices raised, my trauma triggered war scars.

It's an old text. The verses are familiar to me, but I don't remember by whom they were written. The language is very old and intricate. The first verse starts by drawing a comparison between the world and a tangled rug. It says that the world is an unfortunate mess. Like a knot, the nature of its existence is the fact that the parts are locking each other, none able to spring free. Then as it goes on the world becomes a furry animal hide, I suppose... because now us living beings are like insects crawling in the fur. And then it's a fishing net, because the more we struggle and squirm, the more entangled we become. It says that only the limp body of the jellyfish cannot be captured in the net. So we should try to be like the jellyfish, because the jellyfish doesn't try. This was an eternal dilemma to them - they were burdened by great ambition, yet deeply convinced that striving in itself was an unforgivable vice. They tried very hard to be effortless. Perhaps that's what we were to them, someone to delegate that unrestrained effort to. I know I have tried very hard.

SEVEN TWENTY SEVEN, SEVEN TWENTY SEVEN, WHEN YOU SEE IT! WHEN YOU FUCKING SEE IT! SEVEN TWENTY SEVEN, SEVEN TWENTY SEVEN! When you fucking see it, when you fucking, see it! when you see it, when you see it, oh my god. When you see it, when you see it, when you see it.

Whatever you brag about the most is what you lack the most. Whatever it is that you want others to know that you own the most of is what you want to possess the most.

"Remember, I'm a pacifist." "Yeah but think about it! Can't spell pacifist without fist, which you need to throw a punch! That always leads to fighting, the precursor to a full-out battle! Which is ultimately the first step on the inevitable road to war! Violence is unavoidable Doc, time to just admit you've got a natural born pacifist lust for murder!"

The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive. Cars that were usually gleaming stood dusty in their drives and lawns that were once emerald green lay parched and yellowing; the use of hosepipes had been banned due to drought. Deprived of their usual car-washing and lawn-mowing pursuits, the inhabitants of Privet Drive had retreated into the shade of their cool houses, windows thrown wide in the hope of tempting in a nonexistent breeze. The only person left outdoors was a teenage boy who was lying flat on his back in a flower bed outside number four. He was a skinny, black-haired, bespectacled boy who had the pinched, slightly unhealthy look of someone who has grown a lot in a short space of time. His jeans were torn and dirty, his T-shirt baggy and faded, and the soles of his trainers were peeling away from the uppers. Harry Potter's appearance did not endear him to the neighbors, who were the sort of people who thought scruffiness ought to be punishable by law, but as he had hidden himself behind a large hydrangea bush this evening he was quite invisible to passersby.

Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

In his dark room he is finally alone with spools of suffering set out in ordered rows. The only light is red and softly glows, as though this were a church and he a priest preparing to intone a Mass. Belfast. Beirut. Phnom Penh. All flesh is grass. He has a job to do. Solutions slop in trays beneath his hands, which did not tremble then though seem to now. Rural England. Home again to ordinary pain which simple weather can dispel, to fields which don't explode beneath the feet of running children in a nightmare heat. Something is happening. A stranger's features faintly start to twist before his eyes, a half-formed ghost. He remembers the cries of this man's wife, how he sought approval without words to do what someone must and how the blood stained into foreign dust. A hundred agonies in black and white from which his editor will pick out five or six for Sunday's supplement. The reader's eyeballs prick with tears between the bath and pre-lunch beers. From the aeroplane he stares impassively at where he earns his living and they do not care.

When you're walking down the path of cultivation, when you turn your head you can't see where you came from, and when you look at the path ahead, it is shrouded in fog.

Harry lay flat on his back, breathing hard as though he had been running. He had awoken from a vivid dream with his hands pressed over his face. The old scar on his forehead, which was shaped like a bolt of lightning, was burning beneath his fingers as though someone had just pressed a white-hot wire to his skin. He sat up, one hand still on his scar, the other reaching out in the darkness for his glasses, which were on the bedside table. He put them on and his bedroom came into clearer focus, lit by a faint, misty orange light that was filtering through the curtains from the street lamp outside the window.

He thought of a half dozen ideas before he went to sleep. Ender would be pleased--every one of them was stupid.

You must understand that there is more than one path to the top of the mountain.

You leapt from crumbling bridges watching cityscapes turn to dust. Filming helicopters crashing in the ocean from way above. Got the music in you baby, tell me why? Got the music in you baby, tell me why? You've been locked in here forever and you just can't say goodbye. Kisses on the foreheads of the lovers wrapped in your arms. You've been hiding them in hollowed-out pianos left in the dark. Got the music in you baby, tell me why? Got the music in you baby, tell me why? You've been locked in here forever and you just can't say goodbye. Your lips, my lips, Apocalypse. Your lips, my lips, Apocalypse. Go and sneak us through the rivers, Flood is rising up on your knees. Oh, please Come out and haunt me, I know you want me. Come out and haunt me. Sharing all your secrets with each other since you were kids. Sleeping soundly with the locket that she gave you clutched in your fist. Got the music in you baby, tell me why? Got the music in you baby, tell me why? You've been locked in here forever and you just can't say goodbye. You've been locked in here forever and you just can't say goodbye.

I learned that the world has a soul, and that whoever understands that soul can also understand the language of things.

I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up, which is a problem when you've already grown up.

He leaned over the table to me, with an enormous sorrow in his voice as he spoke. 'Thrice I have had my chance - thrice! If ever that door offers itself to me again, I swore, I will go in out of this dust and heat, out of this dry glitter of vanity, out of these toilsome futilities. I will go and never return. This time I will stay... I swore it and when the time came - I didn't go. 'Three times in one year have I passed that door and failed to enter. Three times in the last year.

There is an art to flying, or rather a knack. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.

Power isn't determined by your size, but the size of your heart and dreams!

One can't help thinking, Daddy, what a colourless life a man is forced to lead, when one reflects that chiffon and Venetian point and hand embroidery and Irish crochet are to him mere empty words. Whereas a woman- whether she is interested in babies or microbes or husbands or poetry or servants or parallelograms or gardens or Plato or bridge- is fundamentally and always interested in clothes.

it's a beautiful day outside. birds are singing, flowers are blooming... on days like these, kids like you... Should be burning in hell.

Risking your life and throwing it away may seem alike, but they are two totally different things. People who live at the brink of death never think of throwing their lives away.

Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting - torrents of fire were shooting into the dark sky from their open, fanged mouths, fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. There was a silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground; a smooth-scaled green one, which was writhing and stamping with all its might; a red one with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air; and a gigantic black one, more lizard-like than the others, which was nearest to them.

Well, I can certainly see why we're trying to keep them alive. Who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?

He was playing games, got you dancing in the middle of the club. Got you dancing in the middle of the club.

Clearly, at some time in the Long-Ago of human decay the Morlocks' food had run short. Possibly they had lived on rats and such-like vermin. Even now man is far less discriminating and exclusive in his food than he was - far less than any monkey. His prejudice against human flesh is no deep-seated instinct. And so these inhuman sons of men-! I tried to look at the thing in a scientific spirit. After all, they were less human and more remote than our cannibal ancestors of three or four thousand years ago. And the intelligence that would have made this state of things a torment had gone. Why should I trouble myself? These Eloi were mere fatted cattle, which the ant-like Morlocks preserved and preyed upon - probably saw to the breeding of.

It is difficult to exaggerate the mathematical richness of this idea. It has been convincingly argued by mathematical historians that the ensuing investigation into the validity of Fourier's conjecture was the fundamental catalyst for the pursuit of rigor that characterizes 19th century mathematics. Power series had been in wide use in the 150 years leading up to Fourier's work, largely because they behaved so well under the operations of calculus. A function expressed as a power series is continuous, differentiable an infinite number of times, and can be integrated and differentiated as though it were a polynomial. In the presence of such agreeable behavior, there was no compelling reason for mathematicians to formulate a more precise understanding of "limit" or "convergence" because there were no arguments to resolve. Fourier's successful implementation of trigonometric series to the study of heat flow changed all of this. To understand what the fuss was really about, we need to look more closely at what Fourier was asserting, focusing individually on the terms "function," "express," and "trigonometric series."

I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.

During the eighteenth century, the word "continuous" as a description of a function was associated with being able to express it by a formula, and a function was "discontinuous" at a point where one had to switch formulas, like the point x = 0 for the absolute value.

You're right, actually. I am pretty- I'm, I'm pretty troubled and I'm, I'm pretty confused. But I... and I'm afraid. Really, really afraid. Really afraid. But I... I... I think you're the fucking Antichrist.

Hey, it's dunkey. I've been trapped inside of the game's code for 277 years and I just wanted to say thank you for releasing me from this game. It was a good game, um, I liked the part with the ostrich and the bean monkey is, you know, I love him, and maybe I can go play ANIMAL WELL 2 now by the time you've discovered this.

When I almost drowned, I decided I would never again be weaker than water. So I became a lifeguard. On my first day of training, my instructor told me that there are going to be times when you see someone in trouble. You're going to want to rush in there and do whatever you can to save them. But you have to stop yourself. Because there are some people you can't save. Because those people will thrash and struggle and try to take you down with them.

Whoo! Oh yeah! Rolling around at the speed of sound. Got places to go, gotta follow my rainbow! Can't stick around, have to keep moving on. Guess what lies ahead, only one way to find out! Must keep on moving ahead. No time for guessing, follow my plan instead. Trusting in what you can't see. Take my lead; I'll set you free. Follow me, set me free. Trust me and we will escape from the city. I'll make it through. Follow me (follow me), set me free.

I was leaning over the apron of my hansom smoking a cigarette, and no doubt thinking myself no end of a man of the world, and suddenly there was the door, the wall, the dear sense of unforgettable and still attainable things. We clattered by - I too taken by surprise to stop my cab until we were past a corner. Then I had a queer moment, a double and divergent movement of my will: I tapped the little door in the roof of the cab, and brought my arm down to pull out my watch. "Yes, sir!" said the cabman, smartly. "Er - well - it's nothing," I tried. "My mistake! We haven't much time! Go on!" and he went on....

* Ford Perfect's original name is only pronouncible is an obscure Betelgeusian dialect, now virtually extinct since the Great Collapsing Hrung Disaster of Gal./Sid./Year 03758 which wiped out all the old Praxibetel communities on Betelgeuse Seven. Ford's father was the only man in the entire planet to survive the Great Collapse Hrung Disaster, by an extraordinary coincidence that he was never able satisfactorily to explain. The whole episode is shrouded in deep mystery: in fact no one ever knew what a Hrung was nor why it had chosen to collapse on Betelgeuse Seven particularly. Ford's father, magnanimously waving aside the clouds of suspicion that had inevitably settled around him, came to live on Betelgeuse Five where he both fathered and uncled Ford; in memory of his now dead race he christened him in the ancient Praxibetel tongue. Because Ford never learned to say his original name, his father eventually died of shame, which is still a terminal disease in some parts of the Galaxy. The other kids at school nicknamed him Ix, which in the language of Betelgeuse Five translates as 'boy who is not able satisfactorily to explain what a Hrung is, nor why it should choose to collapse on Betelgeuse Seven'.

Behold this empty husk of a land... Populated only by storms, ruins and abominations. It wasn't always thus. I was once the Count of 2 living blocks, esteemed by my peers. I had progeny! From within my vessel of flesh, I would perch upon this spot to observe the rising of the sun. Corporeal matters seem so distant now. Most have forgotten this place, but I remain. Perhaps I reminisce because I cannot go. Perhaps I cannot go because memory traps me here.

Wax on, right hand. Wax off, left hand. Wax on, wax off. Breathe in through nose, out the mouth.

The Purposes of the United Nations are: 1. To maintain international peace and security, and to that end: to take effective collective measures for the prevention and removal of threats to the peace, and for the suppression of acts of aggression or other breaches of the peace, and to bring about by peaceful means, and in conformity with the principles of justice and international law, adjustment or settlement of international disputes or situations which might lead to a breach of the peace; 2. To develop friendly relations among nations based on respect for the principle of equal rights and self-determination of peoples, and to take other appropriate measures to strengthen universal peace; 3. To achieve international co-operation in solving international problems of an economic, social, cultural, or humanitarian character, and in promoting and encouraging respect for human rights and for fundamental freedoms for all without distinction as to race, sex, language, or religion; and 4. To be a centre for harmonizing the actions of nations in the attainment of these common ends.

A LONG, LONG TIME AGO... There lived a Civilization of great power. They built a city, and within that city they built a palace. They held sacred the secrets of the Holy Cross, and understood the planar nature of reality. They ventured to the far shore and sought power from the spaces between.

The moon will never lie to anyone. Be like the moon. No one hates the moon or wants to kill it. The moon does not take antidepressants and never gets sent to prison. The moon never shot a guy in the face and ran away. The moon has been around a long time and has never tried to rip anyone off. The moon does not care who you want to touch or what color you are. The moon treats everyone the same. The moon never tries to get in on the guest list or use your name to impress others. Be like the moon. When others insult or belittle in an attempt to elevate themselves, the moon sits passively and watches, never lowering itself to anything that weak. The moon is beautiful and bright. It needs no makeup to look beautiful. The moon never shoves clouds out of its way so it can be seen. The moon needs not fame or money to be powerful. The moon never asks you to go to war to defend it. Be like the moon.

Life can get pretty crazy at times. It can be hectic, confusing, stressful, and that's on a good day. Life can be full of happiness and full of sadness. One moment you're on top of the world and nothing can go wrong. The next, it feels as if nothing will ever be right again. I guess it depends where you are right now on your ride through life whether you smile when you read this or fight back tears. No matter where you stand on the long path, right now, try very hard to smile, and be glad you're in the game.

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.

By choosing the right words, you can take an idea that's happening in your head and try to make an idea like it happen in someone else's. That's what's happening right now.

When it's gone, you'll know what a gift love was. You'll suffer like this. So go back and fight to keep it.

So the whole war is because we can't talk to each other.

Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed She was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb In the shape of an "L" on her forehead Well, the years start coming and they don't stop coming Fed to the rules and I hit the ground running Didn't make sense not to live for fun Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb So much to do, so much to see So what's wrong with taking the back streets? You'll never know if you don't go (GO!) You'll never shine if you don't glow Hey, now, you're an all-star, get your game on, go play Hey, now, you're a rock star, get the show on, get paid And all that glitters is gold Only shooting stars break the mold

June twenty-ninth. I gotta get in shape. Too much sitting has ruined my body. Too much abuse has gone on for too long. From now on there will be 50 pushups each morning, 50 pullups. There will be no more pills, no more bad food, no more destroyers of my body. From now on will be total organization. Every muscle must be tight.

I'm under absolutely no obligation to make sense to you.

My wife's mother is visiting, Father. And Tuesday night, she's cooking us a carp. It's a tasty fish, I've got nothing against it. But, because it's supposedly filled with impurities, she buys it live and for three days, it's been swimming... up and down... in my bathtub. Up and down... and I hate it. I can't stand the sight of it, moving its gills. Now, you're standing very close to me, Father; have you noticed? Yes. I haven't had a bath for three days. I can't go home until the carp is asleep because if I see it, swimming... I'll kill it.

Now everything that was in my way is gone - and everyone else still believes in me. It's only a matter of time before I get rid of the police. What do you think at that, L? This is my perfect victory! That's right, I win!

You speak in abbreviations because real life conversation moves too slowly. You're the media's creation, yeah, your free will has been taken and you don't know.

Chapter 12 showed that a binary search tree of height h can support any of the basic dynamic-set operations--such as SEARCH, PREDECESSOR, SUCCESSOR, MINIMUM, MAXIMUM, INSERT, AND DELETE--in O(h) time.

I'm a half horse, half man! How could she ever understand? That I'm a half horse, half man I'm a half horse, half man That's what I am And so I told my love the truth And she was actually pretty cool With finding out that I'm a horse

If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.

a strange thought came to him: had Arthur seen that Clark was sleepwalking? Would this be in the letters to V.? Because he had been sleepwalking, Clark realized, moving half-asleep through the motions of his life for a while now, years; not specifically unhappy, but when had he last found real joy in his work? When was the last time he'd been truly moved by anything? When had he last felt awe or inspiration? He wished he could somehow go back and find the iPhone people whom he'd jostled on the sidewalk earlier, apologize to them-I'm sorry, I've just realized that I'm as minimally present in this world as you are, I had no right to judge

The box is there for a reason. I like thinking inside of it; I feel safe in there.

We've been tricked, we've been back-stabbed, and we've been, quite possibly, bamboozled.

Allheaven, the time has come for our final battle. You've been hiding from me for tens of thousands of years, and I've also been hiding away. It's time to sort things out once and for all.

He felt he ought to add something to that, but for the moment the guard seemed to have his mind occupied pondering that much 'Eerrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...' said the guard, 'erm, well that doesn't sound great to me.'

Perhaps I'd been a slow developer, but I was well into my forties before I realized that you don't have to comply with a request just because it's reasonable or reasonably put. Age is the great dis-obliger. You can be yourself and say no.

So, I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you.

I have a first place ribbon in doing nothing... it's the same ribbon as last place.

If you don't like the hand that fate's dealt you with, fight for a new one.

In the great grand scheme of things, we're just tiny specks that will one day be forgotten. So, it doesn't matter what we did in the past, or how we'll be remembered. The only thing that matters is right now: this moment, this one spectacular moment we are sharing together.

To realize one's destiny is a person's only obligation.

I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.

We knew the world would not be the same. A few people laughed, a few people cried. Most people were silent. I remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad-Gita; Vishnu is trying to persuade the Prince that he should do his duty, and to impress him, takes on his multi-armed form and says, 'Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.' I suppose we all thought that, one way or another.

When the Ashes are two, a flame alighteth. Thou'rt Ash, and fire befits thee, of course...

Yes, indeed. It is called Lothric, where the transitory lands of the Lords of Cinder converge. In venturing north, the pilgrims discover the truth of the old words: "The fire fades and the lords go without thrones." When the link of fire is threatened, the bell tolls, unearthing the old Lords of Cinder from their graves... Aldrich, Saint of the Deep... Farron's Undead Legion, the Abyss Watchers... And the reclusive lord of the Profaned Capital, Yhorm the Giant... Only, in truth... the Lords will abandon their thrones... And the Unkindled will rise. Nameless, accursed Undead, unfit even to be cinder. And so it is, that ash seeketh embers.

Toward the end of his distinguished career, the renowned British mathematician G.H. Hardy eloquently laid out a justification for a life of studying mathematics in A Mathematician's Apology, an essay first published in 1940. At the center of Hardy's defense is the thesis that mathematics is an aesthetic discipline. For Hardy, the applied mathematics of engineers and economists held little charm. "Real mathematics," as he referred to it, "must be justified as art if it can be justified at all."

The gesticulating figure was bright and white in the moonlight, and shouting, 'Fizzle, you fool! Fizzle, you hunter of women! You hot-blooded hound! Boil! boil! boil!'

To him at least the Door in the Wall was a real door leading through a real wall to immortal realities. Of that I am now quite assured. And it came into his life early, when he was a little fellow between five and six. I remember how, as he sat making his confession to me with a slow gravity, he reasoned and reckoned the date of it. 'There was,' he said, 'a crimson Virginia creeper in it - all one bright uniform crimson in a clear amber sunshine against a white wall. That came into the impression somehow, though I don't clearly remember how, and there were horse-chestnut leaves upon the clean pavement outside the green door. They were blotched yellow and green, you know, not brown nor dirty, so that they must have been new fallen. I take it that means October. I look out for horse-chestnut leaves every year, and I ought to know. 'If I'm right in that, I was about five years and four months old.'

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

We lost ourselves, lost our dream. In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good. We have to make it right.

Temporomandibular disorder is multifactorial in etiology, requiring a multidisciplinary approach.

Her blood-curdling snoring, with its gargling and squawking and its terrifying pauses is like the sound the devil might make if he were alternately relishing and strangling on a pound of human flesh.

Try me. Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah. No scans. No nothing. One move and I'll destroy us all, you got that? TARDIS bang bang, Daleks boom! Good boy.

One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.

No matter how dutiful one tried to feel, it was impossible to be sad at leaving this behind, not when the blood ran hot and rich in the veins, and when out in the world there were all the untried beckoning enchantments: dancing, sensuous music, merriment - and love.

Early identification and proper management of patients with xanthogranulomatous pyelonephritis are critical in reducing unnecessary morbidity and mortality.

if m > m', then the graph is ABOVE L slightly to the RIGHT of the point, and BELOW it slightly to the LEFT.

Sergeant John Kinley: [to his wife] I'm lying in this bed. I kiss my children before they go to school. And he's hiding in a hole somewhere. A hole he can never get out of. A hole that we put him in. And that wasn't the deal.

Let's talk goblinoids. Your standard goblin is well-armoured and conniving, and while not the best strategists, they are deadly in bigger groups. Hobgoblins are where the species get disciplined. Smarter, stronger, and as mean as a bag of hedgehogs, hobgoblins are natural leaders for their kin. Bugbears are as tough as ogres, only shrewder, and they can be unnervingly quiet when they want to. Avoid these sleuthy bruisers.

What is better, to be born good or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?

I am what I want you to want, what I want you to feel.

The ascent to the highest story is by stairs, and at their side are water engines, by means of which persons, appointed expressly for the purpose, are continually employed in raising water from the Euphrates into the garden.

As is usual, an alluring old power was discovered. Fossils of self, annealed visions of the future, entombed and cast into sarcophagi and buried. A lever in the canonical plane, a store of potential. Perhaps it is the fabled prize. The Power To Defy Death.

Sulfamethoxazole-trimethoprim for 14 days or cephalexin for 7 to 10 days can be appropriate in some situations, but growing bacterial resistance makes these antimicrobials less useful for empiric use.

The people with ideas have no power and the people with power have no ideas.

All legislative Powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress of the United States, which shall consist of a Senate and House of Representatives.

In wilds beyond they speak your name with reverence and regret, For none could tame our savage souls yet you the challenge met, Under palest watch, you taught, we changed, base instincts were redeemed, A world you gave to bug and beast as they had never dreamed. --The Elegy for Hallownest

Well done. Here come the test results: "You are a horrible person." That's what it says: a horrible person. We weren't even testing for that.

WHERE IS HE WHERE IS HE PROMISED LIFE ETERNAL LIFE GLORY RICHES WHERE IS HE

It's an old conversation log. I seem to be in it, but I can't recall much. Let me read it to you: "1650.800 - PRIVATE Five Pebbles, Chasing Wind, Big Sis Moon, No Significant Harassment CW: this is in confidence, but apparently a pseudonym "Erratic Pulse" has appeared on a nearby Sliverist conversation with ideas about personal ascension. Someone here in our vicinity is trying to cross themselves out. FP: Where did you hear this? NSH: I wish them super good luck in that endeavor. How is it going to happen? Have the overseers gnaw through bedrock until their entire can crashes down in the void sea? BSM: Please be respectful when speaking of the Void Sea. Grey Wind, where did you hear this? CW: I really shouldn't say. He's going to attempt some sort of breeding program. Thought you might want to know. NSH: Haha with the slimers, lizards and etceteras? Surely the answer was in a lizard skull all along! CW: Well, he's not looking for the same thing as we anymore, he's changed his task, so who knows really. BSM: I will try to find him and talk to him. Please don't spread this around! NSH: Moon will go get them! Long live the inquisition!"

I'm burning through the sky, yeah Two hundred degrees, that's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit I'm travelling at the speed of light I wanna make a supersonic man out of you

Laparoscopic radical nephrectomy is the procedure of choice in patients with xanthogranulomatous pyelonephritis with nonfunctioning kidneys as it is associated with less blood loss, fewer complications, reduced hospital stays, and better outcomes compared to similar open surgeries.