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"Uzun zamandır hastaydım. Hastaneden ayrılacağım gün geldiğinde artık nasıl yürüyeceğimi bilemiyordum, kim olmam gerektiğini zar zor hatırlayabiliyordum. Doktor, çaba gösterirseniz üç dört ay sonra tekrar düşünme hızına kavuşacağınızı söyledi. Ona inanmadım." I had been sick for a long time. When the day came for me to leave the hospital, I barely knew how to walk anymore, could barely remember who I was supposed to be. Make an effort, the doctor said, and in three or four months you'll be back in the swing of think. I didn't believe him."
I remember Mom clutching my hand tight when we used to take walks. She never let go of my hand. Sometimes when I tried to wriggle my hand free because she gripped it so hard, she’d shoot me a look, telling me to hold on tight. She said families walk hand in hand. Granny would hold my other hand. I have never been abandoned by anyone. Even though my brain was a mess, what kept my soul whole was the warmth of the hands holding mine on both sides.
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I love the dynamics of negotiation. Skillful negotiators, of which I am among the best, are forceful, persistent, perceptive and patient. I thrive on seeking out and defining my opponent's comfort zone, that imaginary box (…), and then placing an offer on the inside rim of that comfort zone closest to my own best interests. This delicate
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“Because at the end of the day, we’re all lost. We’re all cracked. We’re all scarred. We’re all broken. We’re all just trying to figure out this thing called life, you know? Sometimes it feels so lonely, but then you remember your core tribe. The people who sometimes hate you, but never stop loving you. The people who always show up, no matter how many times you’ve fucked up and pushed them away. That’s your tribe. These people, these struggles, this is my tribe. So yeah, we fall apart, but we’ll fall together. We’ll stand up—together. Then, at the end of all the bullshit, all of the tears, all of the hurt, we’ll take a few steps at a time. Then we’ll take a few deep breaths, and we’ll walk each other home.”
"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous a legend- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter Day in the future every child in our world will there will be books written about Harry know his name! " "Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he 'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it? "
It was then that the fox appeared. “Good morning,” said the fox. “Good morning,” the little prince responded politely, although when he turned around he saw nothing. “I am right here,” the voice said, “under the apple tree.” “Who are you?” asked the little prince, and added, “You are very pretty to look at.” “I am a fox,” the