English version
Thanks to homeostasis, no matter how much or how little you diet, your body has a strong tendency to hover at that weight. Only by resetting your body's metabolism (say, by exercising regularly) can dieting really help you lose pounds for good. In a marriage, positivity and negativity operate similarly. Once your marriage gets "set" at a high degree of positivity, it will take far more negativity to harm your relationship than if your "set point" were lower. And if your relationship becomes overwhelmingly negative, it will be more difficult to repair.
This book has also made a second argument. Whatever the skills of particular venture partnerships or individual VCs, venture capitalists as a group have a positive effect on economies and societies. (…) As with this book's claim about individual VC skill, there are legitimate objections to the claim about VCs' collective impact. (…) The least persuasive of these complaints is that venture-backed businesses are not socially useful. Of course, Big Tech has a dark side. Companies as huge as Amazon, Apple, Facebook, and Google (…) Violations of privacy, the propagation of fake news, and the sheer power of private actors to determine who gets to communicate when and to whom (…) When VCs originally backed the tech giants, they were helping to create products that were good (…) nobody wants to return to a world without e-commerce, personal computer (…) Venture Capital is also attacked for the businesses it has failed to create (…) most common form of this complaint is that venture Capital has flowed more copiously to frivolous apps than to socially useful projects, notably the vital area of technologies to fight climate change. (…) Perhaps venture investors have their hearts in the right place, but their style of finance is unsuited to capital-intensive areas such as clean-tech? (…) the pre-2010 clean-tech flop was as much a government failure as a venture-Capital one (…) In putting Capital behind products that they can sell at a proflt, VCs are at least respecting the choices of millions of consumers. (…) What of the second broad area of complaint: that venture Capital is dominated by white men drawn from a narrow collection of elite colleges? (…) the venture industry is trying to improve. (…) On the issue of race, progress has been even slower. (…) To be fair, the venture
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After school she told Mom about it, only to become more upset when Mom tried to comfort her by suggesting that she should be happy with being “good enough.” “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Mom said. Everyone was missing the point. This feeling of being misunderstood sent young Hung Yi into an unknown sadness. Revisiting the memory of that day, Hung Yi mused that the teacher’s warning against pessimism and Mom’s advice on flexibility had likely backfired. She grew to defend her points of view even more.
See you next book
Fight it, he willed her, sending the words down the bond—the mating
bond, which perhaps had settled into place that first moment they’d become
carranam, hidden beneath flame and ice and hope for a better future. Fight
her. I am coming for you. Even if it takes me a thousand years. I will find
you, I will find you, I will find you.
Only salt and wind and water answered him.
Rowan rose to his feet. And slowly turned to face them.
But their attention snagged on the ships now sailing out of the west—
from the battle site. His cousins’ ships, with what remained of the fleet
Ansel of Briarcliff had won for them, and Rolfe’s three ships.
But it was not those boats that made him pause.
It was the one that rounded the eastern tip of the land—a longboat. It
swept closer on a phantom wind, too fast to be natural.
Rowan braced himself. The boat’s shape didn’t belong to any of the
fleets assembled. But its style nagged at his memory.
From their own fleet, Ansel of Briarcliff and Enda were soaring over the
waves in a longboat, aiming for this beach.
But Rowan and the others watched in silence as the foreign boat crested
through the surf and slid onto the sand.
Watched the olive-skinned sailors haul it up the beach. A broadshouldered young man nimbly leaped out, his slightly curling dark hair
tossed in the sea breeze.
He did not emit a whiff of fear as he stalked for them—didn’t even go
for the comforting touch of the fine sword at his side.
“Where is Aelin Galathynius?” the stranger asked a bit breathlessly as
he scanned them.
And his accent …
“Who are you,” Rowan ground out.
But the young man was now close enough that Rowan could see the
color of his eyes. Turquoise—with a core of gold.
Aedion breathed as if in a trance, “Galan.”
The Lady of the Lake
But as I crouch there, curled up like prey, something shifts in my
thoughts. With the heavy fog out of my mind, I can feel the pulse of magic
flowing through me, stronger than ever. The veil I’ve been using to shield
myself from Talan must have been leeching my magic, smothering my
powers all this time, but it’s gone.
My magic roars to the surface.
When Tana first told me I was the Lady of the Lake, I didn’t know what
it meant. Mordred had promised these powers would grow in Brocéliande,
surrounded by a world of magic. Magic feeds on magic, blooming from the
soil of enchantment here. But only now can I truly feel the Lady of the
Lake’s powers cascading through me, a waterfall of strength.
I’m not alone after all.
An ancient, unbreakable bond connects me to the Ladies of the Lake
who came before me, a magical current flowing through time and merging
with Nimuë’s spirit. This is her home now, and her body lies buried in the
soil of Brocéliande. Her magic lives in the ground beneath me. Her spirit
rushes through the trees and shimmers on the forest rivers.
But it’s Morgan’s power, too. Before she ruled as queen, she was the
Lady of the Lake. Now, her magic ripples through my body.
All three of us—Nimuë, Morgan, and me—are entwined, our forces
churning together.
I am no longer just Nia Melisande, hunted and alone. I am a covenant of
three. A sisterhood. A triple spiral carved into the stones, strong as the oaks,
old as the rocks. Fathomless as the lake itself.
As the magical current flows into my soul, my senses grow sharper,
Fey-like. I am the living keeper of Lake Avalon’s power.
I hear Vidal and the other attackers creeping toward me, their pounding
hearts and labored breaths. My senses drink in every detail: the thick scent
of their hair oils, the faint creak of
It is Good To Be Rogue when there is An Assasion
“Your Highness,” one of them shouts. “Thank the gods you’re not hurt!
There’s been some sort of attack. Magical explosives. Both your quarters
and your father’s were the targets, apparently.”
“What happened to the king?” Talan’s voice echoes off the walls.
The guard shakes his head. “Luckily, he was in the library and not in his
room.”
“Any signs of the assassins?”
“Already gone, Your Highness. We’re sending trackers to hunt them
down.”
“Find them alive. I want their confession. Because they didn’t just try to
kill me. They tried to kill my wife, a mistake I will make them regret.”
Nausea rises in my gut, and I lean against the wall, head pounding and
my stomach twisted in knots.
The assassins never needed me to open the window to let them in.
The window was a signal that I was in the room with him.
“Thank the gods you’re alive,” she murmurs, her voice tight.
“Do you remember when you told me to have faith in Avalon Tower and
not to worry about the details?” I hiss. “I’m not sure I trust your judgement
at this point.”
“Obviously, I didn’t think explosives would be involved,” she snaps.
“The whole bloody point was for you to open the window for assassins to
sneak inside.”
“But what if there was a different reason they wanted me to open the
window? To let them know I was with Talan? They blew the room up right
after I opened the window. Within minutes. If they didn’t want me dead,
surely they would have waited a while longer. They were supposed to strike
when Talan was sleeping. They could see me in the window if they were
looking.”
Nivene shakes her head. “That couldn’t have been the instructions from