Marc Chagall The Concert

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themselves? Price's life has had its share of suffering, including family strife, her mother's cancer and, later, the sudden death of her husband Jim. Because she was hounded by bad memories, grew depressed and feared that she was in Irvine, and he's written more than 500 academic articles and several books. The walls of his office are covered in awards and decorations. Like many a leading scientist of his age, he has no plans to retire.
"I was skeptical, of course, when Jill told me her story," says McGaugh, a slimgoing crazy, she sat in front of her computer on June 5, 2000 (a Monday) and typed a single word into Google: memory.That was how Price found James McGaugh, and became part of a scientific case study.Semantic vs. Episodic MemoryMcGaugh, 76, looks like a friendly, mischievous grandfather. He makes wooden rocking horses for his grandchildren. He plays the clarinet and saxophone in jazz bands. He is also one of the leading experts on memory in the United States. He founded the Center for the Neurobiology of Learning and Memory at the University of California

Rodney White Nothing to Dream

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noise it had been making all along. It sounded like a sliver of a scream, caught in one long instant of time.
The iridescent man was doll-sized now, a tortured shape tumbling in slow motion while hanging in mid-air. Twoflower wondered why he had thought of the phrase "a sliver of a scream"...and began to wish he hadn't.
It was over with his head cradled in his arms and his body curled up tightly.
When the dust had settled Twoflower reached out gingerly and tapped the wizard on the shoulder.
The human ball rolled up tighter.
"It's me," explained Twoflower helpfully. The wizard unrolled a fraction.
"What?" he said.
"Me."beginning to look like Rincewind. The wizard's mouth was open, and his face was brilliantly lit by the light of - what? Strange suns, Twoflower found himself thinking. Suns men don't usually see. He shivered.Now the turning wizard was half man-size. At that point the growth was faster, there was a sudden crowded moment, a rush of air, and an explosion of sound. Rincewind tumbled out of the air, screaming. He hit the floor hard, choked, then rolled

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I find this notion of a war I ain't been told nothing about kinda troubling."
"lorek Byrnison's quarrel with his king is part of it too," said the witch. "This child is destined to play a part in that."
"You speak she is doing, as if it were her nature and not her destiny to do it. If she's told what she must do, it will all fail; death will sweep through all the worlds; it will be the triumph of despair, forever. The universes will all become nothing more than interlocking
They looked down at Lyra, whose sleeping face (what little of it they could see inside her hood) wore a stubborn little frown.of destiny," he said, "as if it was fixed. And I ain't sure I like that any more than a war I'm enlisted in without knowing about it. Where's my free will, if you please? And this child seems to me to have more free will than anyone I ever met. Are you telling me that she's just some kind of clockwork toy wound up and set going on a course she can't change?""We are all subject to the fates. But we must all act as if we are not," said the witch, "or die of despair. There is a curious prophecy about this child: she is destined to bring about the end of destiny. But she must do so without knowing what

Gustav Klimt Portrait of Adele Bloch (gold foil)

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The Tartars ran to stand in a line across the entrance to the avenue of lights, their daemons beside them as disciplined and drilled as they were. In another minute there'd be a second line, because more were coming, and more behind , but in deadly earnest now, she scooped a handful together and hurled it at the nearest soldier.
"Get 'em in the eyes!" she yelled, and threw another.
Other children joined in, and then someone's daemon had the notion of flying as a swift beside the snowball and nudging it directly at the eye slits of the target-and then them. Lyra thought with despair: children can't fight soldiers. It wasn't like the battles in the Oxford claybeds, hurling lumps of mud at the brickburners' children.Or perhaps it was! She remembered hurling a handful of clay in the broad face of a brickburner boy bearing down on her. He'd stopped to claw the stuff out of his eyes, and then the townies leaped on him.She'd been standing in the mud. She was standing in the snow.Just as she'd done that afternoon

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into the fog, and that was followed by screams, snarling, crunching and tearing sounds, great smashing blows, cries of terror and -hurtled at him and knocked him down, crushing all the breath out of Lyra herself; and then hands were hauling at her, lifting her, stifling her cry with foul-smelling mittens, tossing her through the air into another's arms, and then pushing her flat down into the snow again, so that she was dizzy and breathless and hurt all at once. Her arms were hauled behind till her shoulders cracked, and someone lashed her wrists together, and then a hood was crammed over her head to muffle roars of bearish fury as he laid them waste.But who was them? Lyra had seen no enemy figures yet. The gyptians were swarming to defend the sledges, but that (as even Lyra could see) made them better targets; and their rifles were not easy to fire in gloves and mittens; she had only heard four or five shots, as against the ceaseless knocking rain of arrows. And more and more men fell every minute.Oh, John Faa! she thought in anguish. You didn't foresee this, and I didn't help you!But she had no more than a second to think that, for there was a mighty snarl from Pantalaimon, and something- another daemon

John William Godward Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

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closed, it was the same size and shape as the alethiometer.
When that was done, she sat next to lorek Byrnison as he gnawed a haunch of reindeer that was frozen as hard as wood.
"lorek," "Lord Asriel. And they got him captive on Svalbard, you see. I think the Gobblers betrayed him and paid the bears to keep him in prison."
"I don't know. I am not a Svalbard bear."
"I thought you was...."she said, "is it hard not having a daemon? Don't you get lonely?""Lonely?" he said. "I don't know. They tell me this is cold. I don't know what cold is, because I don't freeze. So I don't know what lonely means either. Bears are made to be solitary.""What about the Svalbard bears?" she said. "There's thousands of them, en't there? That's what I heard."He said nothing, but ripped the joint in half with a sound like a splitting log."Beg pardon, lorek," she said. "I hope I en't offended you. It's just that I'm curious. See, I'm extra curious about the Svalbard bears because of my father.""Who is your father?"

Piet Mondrian Avond Evening Red Tree

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brain accounts for 2 percent of our body weight but sucks down roughly 20 percent of our daily calories. It needs glucose, but of a certain kind and in the right doses.
It's commonThe brain, which accounts for 2 percent of our body weight, sucks down roughly 20 percent of our daily calories. A picky eater, it demands a constant supply of glucose — primarily obtained from recently eaten carbohydrates (fruits, vegetables, grains etc.). Only in extreme instances of deprivation will the brain use other substances to resolve to lose weight, but any sane person dreads a diet's dulling effect on the brain.In fact, many studies have shown that counting calories, carbs or fat grams, is truly distracting — to the point that it taxes short-term memory. But how we eat can affect our minds at more fundamental levels, too.Here are five things you should know about feeding your brain:1. Fuel it up

Pino MOTHER'S LOVE

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the peace and traded fairly, the landlopers turned a blind eye to the incessant smuggling and the occasional feuds. If a gyptian body floated ashore down the coast, or got snagged in a fishnet, well-it was only a gyptian.
Lyra listened enthralled to tales of the fen dwellers, of the great ghost dog Black Shuck, of the marsh fires arising from ask..." There was no one to ask, of course, and Ma Costa laughed, but kindly.
"Can't you see I'm a paying you a compliment, you gosling?" she said, bubbles of witch oil, and began to think of herself as gyptian even before they reached the fens. She had soon slipped back into her Oxford voice, and now she was acquiring a gyptian one, complete with Fen-Dutch words. Ma Costa had to remind her of a few things."You en't gyptian, Lyra. You might pass for gyptian with practice, but there's more to us than gyptian language. There's deeps in us and strong currents. We're water people all through, and you en't, you're a fire person. What you're most like is marsh fire, that's the place you have in the gyptian scheme; you got witch oil in your soul. Deceptive, that's what you are, child." Lyra was hurt."I en't never deceived anyone! You

Pino THE DANCER

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fully mapped wilderness of huge skies and endless marshland in Eastern Anglia. The furthest fringe of it mingled indistinguishably with the creeks and tidal inlets of the shallow sea, and the other side of the sea mingled indistinguishably with Holland; and parts of the fens had been drained and dyked by Hollanders, some of whom had settled When the gyptians called a byanroping-a summons or muster of families-so many boats filled the waterways that you could walk for a mile in any direction over their decks; or so it was said. The gyptians ruled in the fens. No one else dared enter, and whithere; so the language of the fens was thick with Dutch. But parts had never been drained or planted or settled at all, and in the wildest central regions, where eels slithered and waterbirds flocked, where eerie marsh fires flick-ered and waylurkers tempted careless travelers to their doom in the swamps and bogs, the gyptian people had always found it safe to muster.And now by a thousand winding channels and creeks and watercourses, gyptian boats were moving in toward the byanplats, the only patch of slightly higher ground in the hundreds of square miles of marsh and bog. There was an ancient wooden meeting hall there with a huddle of permanent dwellings around it, and wharves and jetties and an eelmarket.le the

Herbert James Draper Lamia

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I hope you'll sit next to me at dinner," said Mrs. Coulter, making room for Lyra on the sofa. "I'm not used to the grandeur of a Master's lodging. You'll have to show me which knife and fork to use."
"Are you a female Scholar?" said Lyra. She regarded female Scholars with a proper Jordan disdain: there were such people, but,ladies who were the other female guests. Lyra had asked the question expecting the answer No, in fact, for Mrs. Coulter had such an air of glamour that Lyra was entranced. She could hardly take her eyes off her.
"Not really," Mrs. Coulter said. "I'm a member of Dame Hannah's college, but most of my work takes place outside Oxford....Tell me about yourself, Lyra. Have you always lived at Jordan college?"
poor things, they could never be taken more seriously than animals dressed up and acting a play. Mrs. Coulter, on the other hand, was not like any female Scholar Lyra had seen, and certainly not like the two serious elderly

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served after a feast: it clarified the mind and stimulated the tongue, and made for rich conversation. It was traditional for the Master to cook it himself.
Under the . The smells of frying poppy and smoke-leaf drifted pleasantly in through the wardrobe door, and more than once Lyra found herself nodding. But finally she heard someone rap on the table. The voices fell silent, and then the Master spoke.
"Gentlemen," he said. "I feel sure I speak for all of us when I bid Lord Asriel welcome. His visits are rare but always immensely valuable, and I understand he has something of sizzle of the frying butter and the hum of talk, Lyra shifted around to find a more comfortable position for herself. With enormous care she took one of the robes-a full-length fur-off its hanger and laid it on the floor of the wardrobe."You should have used a scratchy old one," whispered Pantalaimon. "If you get too comfortable, you'll go to sleep.""If I do, it's your job to wake me up," she replied.She sat and listened to the talk. Mighty dull talk it was, too; almost all of it politics, and London that, nothing exciting about Tartars

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outside him and wild within.
He climbed higher and higher, hardly once thinking of how he might find his way back down to Lyra, until he came out onand twisted away at once, but the grip was tenacious. And Will was savage now. He felt he was at the very end of everything; and if it was the end of his, he was going to fight and fight till he fell.
So he twisted and kicked and twisted again, but that hand wouldn't let go; and since it was his right arm being held, he couldn't get at the knife. He tried with his left a little plateau almost at the top of the world, it seemed. All around him, on every horizon, the mountains reached no higher. In the brilliant glare of the moon the only colors were stark black and dead white, and every edge was jagged and every surface bare.The wild wind must have been bringing clouds overhead, because suddenly the moon was covered, and darkness swept over the whole landscape—thick clouds, too, for no gleam of moonlight shone through them. In less than a minute Will found himself in nearly total darkness.And at the same moment Will felt a grip on his right arm.He cried out with shock

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That's what she said. All right, it's nonsense, but listen to it, Oliver, will you?" said Dr. Mary Malone. "She knew about Shadows. She calls them—it—she calls it Dust, but it's the same thing. It's our shadow particles. And I'm telling you, , she was communicating with them. They are conscious. And they can respond. And you remember your skulls? Well, she told me about some skulls in the Pitt-Rivers Museum. She'd found out with her compass thing that they were much older than the museum said, and there were Shadows—"
"Wait a minute. Give me some sort of structure here. What are you saying? You saying she's confirmed what we know already, or that she's telling us something new?"
"Both. I don't know. But suppose something happened thirty, forty thousand when she was wearing the electrodes linking her to the Cave, there was the most extraordinary display on the screen: pictures, symbols… She had an instrument too, a sort of compass thing made of gold, with different symbols all around the rim. And she said she could read that in the same way, and she knew about the state of mind, too—she knew it intimately."It was midmorning. Lyra's Scholar, Dr. Malone, was red-eyed from lack of sleep, and her colleague, who'd just returned from Geneva, was impatient to hear more, and skeptical, and preoccupied."And the point was, Oliver

Thomas Kinkade HOMETOWN MORNING

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Instead of buying a heat wrap, make one by filling a sock with uncooked rice and tying it closed with a string, says Paula Gardiner, MD, a researcher in the department of family at Boston University Medical Center. Microwave the sock for one minute or until warm, and place it wherever your child has pain. When it cools off, .Contact Lens Solution for Congestion
For a child over 6 months, fill a bulb syringe with preservative-free saline solution, raise her head, and gently squeeze solution into one nostril at a time, says Dr. microwave it again.Your Blow-Dryer for Swimmer's EarThis painful inflammation of the outer ear traps liquid and possibly bacteria. If the area has become infected, your pediatrician will probably prescribe antibiotic drops. But for mild cases, you can try evaporating the trapped water by standing a foot away from your child and aiming the dryer -- on the warm (not hot) setting -- at her ear, says Dr. Beard

Paul Cezanne The Banks of the Marne

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they hadn't already seen the first window, they would have thought this was some kind of optical trick. Except that it wasn't only optical; air was coming through it, and they could smell the traffic fumes, which didn't exist in the world of Cittagazze. Pantalaimon changed into a swallow and flew through, delighting in the open air, and then snapped see what was happening.
She stood up and took his right arm and said, "Listen, Will, sit down, I'll tell you how to do it. Just sit down for a minute, 'cause your hand hurts and it's taking your mind up an insect before darting back through to Lyra's shoulder again.Giacomo Paradisi was watching with a curious, sad smile. Then he said, "So much for opening. Now you must learn to close." Lyra stood back to give Will room, and the old man came to stand beside him."For this you need your fingers," he said. "One hand will do. Feel for the edge as you felt with the knife to begin with. You won't find it unless you put your soul into your fingertips. Touch very delicately; feel again and again till you find the edge. Then you pinch it together. That's all. Try."But Will was trembling. He couldn't get his mind back to the delicate balance he knew it needed, and he got more and more frustrated. Lyra could

Leroy Neiman Backhand Chris Evert

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looped and swayed, they sprayed apart, they burst into showers of radiance that suddenly swerved this way or that like a flock of birds changing direction in the sky. And as Lyra watched, she felt the same sense, as of trembling on the brink of understanding, that she remembered from the time when she was beginning to read the alethiometer.
She asked another question: Is this Dust? Is it the same thing making these patterns and moving the needle of the alethiometer?
The answer came," Lyra said.
"Clearer? That's the clearest it's ever been!"
"But what does it mean? Can you read it?"
"Well," said Dr. Malone, "you don't read it in the sense of reading in more loops and swirls of light. She guessed it meant yes. Then another thought occurred to her, and she turned to speak to Dr. Malone, and saw her open-mouthed, hand to her head."What?" she said.The screen faded. Dr. Malone blinked."What is it?" Lyra said again."Oh—you've just put on the best display I've ever seen, that's all," said Dr. Malone. "What were you doing? What were you thinking?""I was thinking you could get it clearer than this

Sandro Botticelli Madonna with the Child

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because she was filthy, and she smelled as if she hadn't bathed for days.
"Laura? Lara?" Will said.
"Lyra."
"Lyra… Silvertongue?"
"Yes."
"Where is your so in the flick of an eye, and from a goldfinch he became a rat, a powerful pitch-black rat with red eyes. Will looked at him with wide wary eyes, and the girl saw his glance.
"You have got a daemon," she said decisively. "Inside you."world? How did you get here?"She shrugged. "I walked," she said. "It was all foggy. I didn't know where I was going. At least, I knew I was going out of my world. But I couldn't see this one till the fog cleared. Then I found myself here.""What did you say about dust?""Dust, yeah. I'm going to find out about it. But this world seems to be empty. There's no one here to ask. I've been here for… I dunno, three days, maybe four. And there's no one here.""But why do you want to find out about dust?""Special Dust," she said shortly. "Not ordinary dust, obviously."The daemon changed again. He did

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calls for an estimated $150 billion investment in "repowering" America -- specifically with alternative energy projects.nebulous "bailout plans" that are propping up financial institutions such as Citigroup (NYSE: C) and Bank of America
But before we flip the switch and go 100% green, we need a bridge to our clean energy future. This means boosting production of "alternative energy" sources we can tap right now. One obvious beneficiary is natural gas, and one You see, unlike the (NYSE: BAC) and struggling automakers like General Motors (NYSE: GM) and Ford (NYSE: F), Obama's New Deal isn't a bailout. It's a massive investment that will hand billions of dollars' worth of projects to healthy, competitive companies like Chesapeake Energy. That endeavor's worth investing alongside.
Equitable access to information and technologycompany in a good position to cash in is the No. 1 producer of natural gas in America, Chesapeake Energy (NYSE: CHK).

Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres Ingres The Source

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You mean a full lifetime, don't you?" Lyra whispered. "A whole long life Not... not just... a few years..."
"Yes, I do," said the angel.
"And must all the windows be closed?" said Will. "Every single one ?"
"Understand this," said Xaphania: "Dust is not a constant. There's not a fixed quantity that has always been the same. Conscious way everything works, and by showing them how to be kind instead of cruel, and patient instead of hasty, and cheerful instead of surly, and above all how to keep their minds open and free and curious... Then they will renew enough to replacbeings make Dust, they renew it all the time, by thinking and feeling and reflecting, by gaining wisdom and passing it on."And if you help everyone else in your worlds to do that, by helping them to learn and understand about themselves and each other and the e what is lost through one window. So there could be one left