We live well enough to have the luxury to get ourselves sick with purely social, psychological stress.
Christ's yoke is simply His secret for the alleviation of human life, His prescription for the best and happiest method of living. Men harness themselves to the work and stress of the world in clumsy and unnatural ways. The harness they put on is antiquated. A rough, ill-fitted collar at the best, they make its strain and friction past enduring, by placing it where the neck is most sensitive; and by mere continuous irritation this sensitiveness increases until the whole nature is quick and sore. Pax Vobiscum, p. 45.
It has always seemed strange to me that in our endless discussions about education so little stress is laid on the pleasure of becoming an educated person, the enormous interest it adds to life. To be able to be caught up into the world of thought — that is to be educated.
Sturm-und Drang-Periode=--The storm-and-stress period. A literary period in Germany, the productions of which were inspired by a love of strong passion and violent action.
FORTRAN is for pipe stress freaks and crystallography weenies.
Es trinken tausend sich den Tod, ehe einer stirbt vor Durstes Noth=--A thousand will drink themselves to death ere one die under stress of thirst.
Allowing beauty a place in the soul was a powerful antidote to the stress and strain of mortal life.
Real Programmers don't write in FORTRAN. FORTRAN is for pipe stress freaks and
From out the throng and stress of lies, / From out the painful noise of sighs, / One voice of comfort seems to rise, / It is the meaner part that dies.
I was a little excited but mostly blorft. “Blorft” is an adjective I just made up that means “Completely overwhelmed but proceeding as if everything is fine and reacting to the stress with the torpor of a possum.” I have been blorft every day for the past seven years.
Moses and Mahomet were not men of speculation, but men of action; and it is the stress they laid upon the latter that has given them the power they wield over the destinies of mankind.
Science has a simple faith, which transcends utility. Nearly all men of science, all men of learning for that matter, and men of simple ways too, have it in some form and in some degree. It is the faith that it is the privilege of man to learn to understand, and that this is his mission. If we abandon that mission under stress we shall abandon it forever, for stress will not cease. Knowledge for the sake of understanding, not merely to prevail, that is the essence of our being. None can define its limits, or set its ultimate boundaries.
An attorney was defending his client against a charge of first-degree murder. "Your Honor, my client is accused of stuffing his lover's mutilated body into a suitcase and heading for the Mexican border. Just north of Tijuana a cop spotted her hand sticking out of the suitcase. Now, I would like to stress</p> that my client is *___not* a murderer. A sloppy packer, maybe..."
`Lasu' Releases SAG 0.3 -- Freeware Book Takes Paves For New World Order by staff writers ... The central Superhighway site called ``sunsite.unc.edu'' collapsed in the morning before the release. News about the release had been leaked by a German hacker group, Harmonious Hardware Hackers, who had cracked into the author's computer earlier in the week. They had got the release date wrong by one day, and caused dozens of eager fans to connect to the sunsite computer at the wrong time. ``No computer can handle that kind of stress,'' explained the mourning sunsite manager, Erik Troan. ``The spinning disks made the whole computer jump, and finally it crashed through the floor to the basement.'' Luckily, repairs were swift and the computer was working again the same evening. ``Thank God we were able to buy enough needles and thread and patch it together without major problems.'' The site has also installed a new throttle on the network pipe, allowing at most four clients at the same time, thus making a new crash less likely. ``The book is now in our Incoming folder'', says Troan, ``and you're all welcome to come and get it.'' -- Lars Wirzenius <wirzeniu@cs.helsinki.fi> [comp.os.linux.announce]
p.s. - i'm about *this* close to running around in the server room with a pair of bolt cutters, and a large wooden mallet, laughing like a maniac and cutting everything i can fit the bolt cutters around. and whacking that which i cannot. so if i seem semi-incoherent, or just really *really* nasty at times, please forgive me. stress is not a pretty thing. };P -- Phillip R. Jaenke
and burnout, keep stress out of your life. Give it to others instead. Learn
the "Gaslight" treatment, the "Are you talking to me?" technique, and the
"Do you feel okay? You look pale." approach. Start with negotiation and
implication. Advance to manipulation and humiliation. Above all, relax
and have a nice day.
Real Programmers don't write in FORTRAN. FORTRAN is for pipe stress freaks and crystallography weenies. FORTRAN is for wimp engineers who wear white socks.
FORTUNE EXPLAINS WHAT JOB REVIEW CATCH PHRASES MEAN: #9 has management potential: Because of his intimate relationship with inanimate objects, the reviewee has been appointed to the critical position of department pencil monitor. inspirational: A true inspiration to others. ("There, but for the grace of God, go I.") adapts to stress: Passes wind, water, or out depending upon the severity of the situation. goal oriented: Continually sets low goals for himself, and usually fails to meet them.
Hoaars-Faisse Gallery presents: An exhibit of works by the artist known only as Pretzel. The exhibit includes several large conceptual works using non-traditional media and found objects including old sofa-beds, used mace canisters, discarded sanitary napkins and parts of freeways. The artist explores our dehumanization due to high technology and unresponsive governmental structures in a post-industrial world. She/he (the artist prefers to remain without gender) strives to create dialogue between viewer and creator, to aid us in our quest to experience contemporary life with its inner-city tensions, homelessness, global warming and gender and class-based stress. The works are arranged to lead us to the essence of the argument: that the alienation of the person/machine boundary has sapped the strength of our voices and must be destroyed for society to exist in a more fundamental sense.
"But no, it can't be!" he thought. "This stern, thin, pale face that looks so much older! It cannot be she. It merely reminds me of her." But at that moment Princess Mary said, "Natasha!" And with difficulty, effort, and stress, like the opening of a door grown rusty on its hinges, a smile appeared on the face with the attentive eyes, and from that opening door came a breath of fragrance which suffused Pierre with a happiness he had long forgotten and of which he had not even been thinking--especially at that moment. It suffused him, seized him, and enveloped him completely. When she smiled doubt was no longer possible, it was Natasha and he loved her.
He ended and retired, but him his praise Effectual animated; from the van Starting, he cast a wistful eye around And hurl'd his glittering spear; back fell the ranks Of Troy appall'd; nor vain his weapon flew, But Melanippus pierced heroic son Of Hicetaon, coming forth to fight, Full in the bosom, and with dreadful sound Of all his batter'd armor down he fell. Swift flew Antilochus as flies the hound Some fawn to seize, which issuing from her lair The hunter with his lance hath stricken dead, So thee, O Melanippus! to despoil Of thy bright arms valiant Antilochus Sprang forth, but not unnoticed by the eye Of noble Hector, who through all the war Ran to encounter him; his dread approach Antilochus, although expert in arms, Stood not, but as some prowler of the wilds, Conscious of injury that he hath done, Slaying the watchful herdsman or his dog, Escapes, ere yet the peasantry arise, So fled the son of Nestor, after whom The Trojans clamoring and Hector pour'd Darts numberless; but at the front arrived Of his own phalanx, there he turn'd and stood. Then, eager as voracious lions, rush'd The Trojans on the fleet of Greece, the mind Of Jove accomplishing who them impell'd Continual, calling all their courage forth, While, every Grecian heart he tamed, and took Their glory from them, strengthening Ilium's host. For Jove's unalter'd purpose was to give Success to Priameian Hector's arms, That he might cast into the fleet of Greece Devouring flames, and that no part might fail Of Thetis' ruthless prayer; that sight alone He watch'd to see, one galley in a blaze, Ordaining foul repulse, thenceforth, and flight To Ilium's host, but glory to the Greeks. Such was the cause for which, at first, he moved To that assault Hector, himself prepared And ardent for the task; nor less he raged Than Mars while fighting, or than flames that seize Some forest on the mountain-tops; the foam Hung at his lips, beneath his awful front His keen eyes glisten'd, and his helmet mark'd The agitation wild with which he fought. For Jove omnipotent, himself, from heaven Assisted Hector, and, although alone With multitudes he strove, gave him to reach The heights of glory, for that now his life Waned fast, and, urged by Pallas on, his hour To die by Peleus' mighty son approach'd. He then, wherever richest arms he saw And thickest throng, the warrior-ranks essay'd To break, but broke them not, though fierce resolved, In even square compact so firm they stood. As some vast rock beside the hoary Deep The stress endures of many a hollow wind, And the huge billows tumbling at his base, So stood the Danaï, nor fled nor fear'd. But he, all-fiery bright in arms, the host Assail'd on every side, and on the van Fell, as a wave by wintry blasts upheaved Falls ponderous on the ship; white clings the foam Around her, in her sail shrill howls the storm, And every seaman trembles at the view Of thousand deaths from which he scarce escapes, Such anguish rent the bosom of the Greeks. But he, as leaps a famish'd lion fell On beeves that graze some marshy meadow's breadth, A countless herd, tended by one unskill'd To cope with savage beasts in their defence, Beside the foremost kine or with the last He paces heedless, but the lion, borne Impetuous on the midmost, one devours And scatters all the rest, so fled the Greeks, Terrified from above, before the arm Of Hector, and before the frown of Jove. All fled, but of them all alone he slew The Mycenæan Periphetes, son Of Copreus custom'd messenger of King Eurystheus to the might of Hercules. From such a sire inglorious had arisen A son far worthier, with all virtue graced, Swift-footed, valiant, and by none excell'd In wisdom of the Mycenæan name; Yet all but served to ennoble Hector more. For Periphetes, with a backward step Retiring, on his buckler's border trod, Which swept his heels; so check'd, he fell supine, And dreadful rang the helmet on his brows. Him Hector quick noticing, to his side Hasted, and, planting in his breast a spear, Slew him before the phalanx of his friends. But they, although their fellow-warrior's fate They mourn'd, no succor interposed, or could, Themselves by noble Hector sore appall'd.
In the first place the marriage was not a brilliant one as regards birth, wealth, or rank. Secondly, Prince Andrew was no longer as young as he had been and his health was poor (the old man laid special stress on this), while she was very young. Thirdly, he had a son whom it would be a pity to entrust to a chit of a girl. "Fourthly and finally," the father said, looking ironically at his son, "I beg you to put it off for a year: go abroad, take a cure, look out as you wanted to for a German tutor for Prince Nicholas. Then if your love or passion or obstinacy--as you please--is still as great, marry! And that's my last word on it. Mind, the last..." concluded the prince, in a tone which showed that nothing would make him alter his decision.
The staircase led to a very vast edifice which resembled a shed which had been converted into a house. This edifice had, for its intestinal tube, a long corridor, on which opened to right and left sorts of compartments of varied dimensions which were inhabitable under stress of circumstances, and rather more like stalls than cells. These chambers received their light from the vague waste grounds in the neighborhood.
Time was, unhappiest, dearest of my friends! When even thou, with diligent dispatch, Thyself, hast spread a table in my tent, The hour of battle drawing nigh between The Greeks and warlike Trojans. But there lies Thy body now, gored by the ruthless steel, And for thy sake I neither eat nor drink, Though dearth be none, conscious that other wo Surpassing this I can have none to fear. No, not if tidings of my father's death Should reach me, who, this moment, weeps, perhaps, In Phthia tears of tenderest regret For such a son; while I, remote from home Fight for detested Helen under Troy. Nor even were _he_ dead, whom, if he live, I rear in Scyros, my own darling son, My Neoptolemus of form divine. For still this hope I cherish'd in my breast Till now, that, of us two, myself alone Should fall at Ilium, and that thou, restored To Phthia, should'st have wafted o'er the waves My son from Scyros to his native home, That thou might'st show him all his heritage, My train of menials, and my fair abode. For either dead already I account Peleus, or doubt not that his residue Of miserable life shall soon be spent, Through stress of age and expectation sad That tidings of my death shall, next, arrive.
He laid much stress on the genius of the sufferer, as if this idea must be one of immense solace in the present crisis.
"I know their faces, too," said the prince, with a peculiar stress on the words.
Extremism. It is an almost infallible sign — a kind of death-rattle — when a human institution is forced by its members into stressing those and only those factors which are identificatory, at the expense of others which it necessarily shares with competing institutions because human beings belong to all of them.
I clasp thy knees, Ulysses! oh respect My suit, and spare me. Thou shalt not escape Regret thyself hereafter, if thou slay Me, charmer of the woes of Gods and men. Self-taught am I, and treasure in my mind Themes of all argument from heav'n inspired, And I can sing to thee as to a God. Ah, then, behead me not. Put ev'n the wish Far from thee! for thy own beloved son Can witness, that not drawn by choice, or driv'n By stress of want, resorting to thine house I have regaled these revellers so oft, But under force of mightier far than I.
"That is, in brief," Father Paďssy began again, laying stress on each word, "according to certain theories only too clearly formulated in the nineteenth century, the Church ought to be transformed into the State, as though this would be an advance from a lower to a higher form, so as to disappear into it, making way for science, for the spirit of the age, and civilization. And if the Church resists and is unwilling, some corner will be set apart for her in the State, and even that under control--and this will be so everywhere in all modern European countries. But Russian hopes and conceptions demand not that the Church should pass as from a lower into a higher type into the State, but, on the contrary, that the State should end by being worthy to become only the Church and nothing else. So be it! So be it!"
"I must bear it, if you let it in." (Laying the palest shadow of a stress upon the second word.)
"My dear Lorry, I doubt if that could easily be. There has been a violent stress in one direction, and it needs a counterweight."
As he was so communicative, I felt that reserve on my part would be a bad return unsuited to our years. I therefore told him my small story, and laid stress on my being forbidden to inquire who my benefactor was. I further mentioned that as I had been brought up a blacksmith in a country place, and knew very little of the ways of politeness, I would take it as a great kindness in him if he would give me a hint whenever he saw me at a loss or going wrong.
"Only one thing more," said Mr. Lorry, laying stress upon it as a wholesome means of enforcing her attention: "he has been found under another name; his own, long forgotten or long concealed. It would be worse than useless now to inquire which; worse than useless to seek to know whether he has been for years overlooked, or always designedly held prisoner. It would be worse than useless now to make any inquiries, because it would be dangerous. Better not to mention the subject, anywhere or in any way, and to remove him--for a while at all events--out of France. Even I, safe as an Englishman, and even Tellson's, important as they are to French credit, avoid all naming of the matter. I carry about me, not a scrap of writing openly referring to it. This is a secret service altogether. My credentials, entries, and memoranda, are all comprehended in the one line, 'Recalled to Life;' which may mean anything. But what is the matter! She doesn't notice a word! Miss Manette!"
Mr. Erskine was counsel for the defendants; Lord Ellenborough was the judge. In the course of the defence, the witty Erskine went on to illustrate his position, by alluding to a recent crim. con. case, wherein a gentleman, after in vain trying to bridle his wife's viciousness, had at last abandoned her upon the seas of life; but in the course of years, repenting of that step, he instituted an action to recover possession of her. Erskine was on the other side; and he then supported it by saying, that though the gentleman had originally harpooned the lady, and had once had her fast, and only by reason of the great stress of her plunging viciousness, had at last abandoned her; yet abandon her he did, so that she became a loose-fish; and therefore when a subsequent gentleman re-harpooned her, the lady then became that subsequent gentleman's property, along with whatever harpoon might have been found sticking in her.
In this high temple, on a chair of state, The seat of audience, old Latinus sate; Then gave admission to the Trojan train; And thus with pleasing accents he began: "Tell me, ye Trojans, for that name you own, Nor is your course upon our coasts unknown- Say what you seek, and whither were you bound: Were you by stress of weather cast aground? (Such dangers as on seas are often seen, And oft befall to miserable men,) Or come, your shipping in our ports to lay, Spent and disabled in so long a way? Say what you want: the Latians you shall find Not forc'd to goodness, but by will inclin'd; For, since the time of Saturn's holy reign, His hospitable customs we retain. I call to mind (but time the tale has worn) Th' Arunci told, that Dardanus, tho' born On Latian plains, yet sought the Phrygian shore, And Samothracia, Samos call'd before. From Tuscan Coritum he claim'd his birth; But after, when exempt from mortal earth, From thence ascended to his kindred skies, A god, and, as a god, augments their sacrifice,"
"Let it be impossible, but do it. Only think, he realizes for the first time how he has wounded you, the first time in his life; he had never grasped it before so fully. He said, 'If she refuses to come I shall be unhappy all my life.' Do you hear? though he is condemned to penal servitude for twenty years, he is still planning to be happy--is not that piteous? Think--you must visit him; though he is ruined, he is innocent," broke like a challenge from Alyosha. "His hands are clean, there is no blood on them! For the sake of his infinite sufferings in the future visit him now. Go, greet him on his way into the darkness--stand at his door, that is all.... You ought to do it, you ought to!" Alyosha concluded, laying immense stress on the word "ought."
So saying, she went; but him she left enraged For fair Brisëis' sake, forced from his arms By stress of power. Meantime Ulysses came To Chrysa with the Hecatomb in charge. Arrived within the haven deep, their sails Furling, they stowed them in the bark below. Then by its tackle lowering swift the mast Into its crutch, they briskly push'd to land, Heaved anchors out, and moor'd the vessel fast. Forth came the mariners, and trod the beach; Forth came the victims of Apollo next, And, last, Chrysëis. Her Ulysses led Toward the altar, gave her to the arms Of her own father, and him thus address'd.
I liked to read what they liked to read: what they enjoyed, delighted me; what they approved, I reverenced. They loved their sequestered home. I, too, in the grey, small, antique structure, with its low roof, its latticed casements, its mouldering walls, its avenue of aged firs--all grown aslant under the stress of mountain winds; its garden, dark with yew and holly--and where no flowers but of the hardiest species would bloom--found a charm both potent and permanent. They clung to the purple moors behind and around their dwelling--to the hollow vale into which the pebbly bridle-path leading from their gate descended, and which wound between fern-banks first, and then amongst a few of the wildest little pasture-fields that ever bordered a wilderness of heath, or gave sustenance to a flock of grey moorland sheep, with their little mossy- faced lambs:--they clung to this scene, I say, with a perfect enthusiasm of attachment. I could comprehend the feeling, and share both its strength and truth. I saw the fascination of the locality. I felt the consecration of its loneliness: my eye feasted on the outline of swell and sweep--on the wild colouring communicated to ridge and dell by moss, by heath-bell, by flower-sprinkled turf, by brilliant bracken, and mellow granite crag. These details were just to me what they were to them--so many pure and sweet sources of pleasure. The strong blast and the soft breeze; the rough and the halcyon day; the hours of sunrise and sunset; the moonlight and the clouded night, developed for me, in these regions, the same attraction as for them--wound round my faculties the same spell that entranced theirs.
"Is it your father?" said Beauchamp; "that is quite another thing. Then I can well understand your indignation, my dear Albert. I will look at it again;" and he read the paragraph for the third time, laying a stress on each word as he proceeded. "But the paper nowhere identifies this Fernand with your father."
"Fiend! she wants to know my habits, that she may lay her plans accordingly!" Indignation again prevailed over prudence: I replied sharply, "Hitherto I have often omitted to fasten the bolt: I did not think it necessary. I was not aware any danger or annoyance was to be dreaded at Thornfield Hall: but in future" (and I laid marked stress on the words) "I shall take good care to make all secure before I venture to lie down."
Now that I was left wholly to myself, I gave notice of my intention to quit the chambers in the Temple as soon as my tenancy could legally determine, and in the meanwhile to underlet them. At once I put bills up in the windows; for, I was in debt, and had scarcely any money, and began to be seriously alarmed by the state of my affairs. I ought rather to write that I should have been alarmed if I had had energy and concentration enough to help me to the clear perception of any truth beyond the fact that I was falling very ill. The late stress upon me had enabled me to put off illness, but not to put it away; I knew that it was coming on me now, and I knew very little else, and was even careless as to that.
He was heard with silent attention. They inquired particularly into the circumstance of his having a place of ambush in Marya Kondratyevna's house at the back of Fyodor Pavlovitch's garden to keep watch on Grushenka, and of Smerdyakov's bringing him information. They laid particular stress on this, and noted it down. Of his jealousy he spoke warmly and at length, and though inwardly ashamed at exposing his most intimate feelings to "public ignominy," so to speak, he evidently overcame his shame in order to tell the truth. The frigid severity, with which the investigating lawyer, and still more the prosecutor, stared intently at him as he told his story, disconcerted him at last considerably.