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Все идеи ценностей можно описать как целостные, постоянно расширяющиеся эволюционирующие системы. Ценности продолжают развиваться и расти, когда вы заботитесь о них, обращаете на них внимание. Мы можем научиться создавать глубокие, обдуманные процессы развития ценности в любой беседе.

По мере развития наши системы ценностей соединяются так же, как небольшие притоки сливаются в полноводный поток. Каждая живая мысль – это процесс, запускающий взаимодействие дека нейронных структур в системе разум – мозг. Человек намечает цель и начинает действовать. Есть некое содержание, и его предстоит реализовать. И тогда в процесс включаются взаимосвязанные системы: нервные, мыслительные и пр. Их задача – спланировать достижение задуманного, разработав внутренние карты с маршрутами: как, где и когда возможно совершить то или иное ценностное действие.

В системе разум – мозг ценности функционируют как взаимосвязанные структуры, определяя качество, уровень и силу мотивации для завершения каждого действия. Такая взаимосвязь помогает вашим клиентам наполнить смыслом контекст любого своего жизненного проекта. Это позволяет им выбирать направление независимо от «территории разума», на которой они находятся. Например, если внутреннее местонахождение клиента – жаркая сухая пустыня, коучинг для него похож на освежающий прохладный напиток, который напоит разум. Если клиент находится в океане, отчаянно пытаясь удержаться на плаву, коучинг для него – спасательный круг, помогающий выплыть. Таким образом, каждый контекст дает возможность помочь. Вы учитесь вступать в поток действия сейчас в любой ситуации и продолжать двигаться в нем с помощью визуализации маршрутов и этапов своего пути.

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Надо признать, мы совершаем ошибки достаточно часто, и это оборачивается против нас. Например, отличный способ заставить людей покупать, покупать и покупать представляют собой купоны для частичного возврата денег после покупки. Исследования показали, что наши решения что-то приобрести нередко зависят от различных предлагаемых нам скидок. Но вот в чем подвох: многие из нас их никогда не используют. По одной оценке, потребители не погашают 40 процентов скидочных купонов. Если вы когда-нибудь задумывались над тем, почему торговцы предлагают скидочные купоны, вместо того чтобы просто снизить на такую же сумму цены на товары, то я вам отвечу: им известно, что покупатели (как и упомянутые выше курильщики-старшеклассники) часто неверно предсказывают свои поступки и действия в будущем. Поэтому подарочные карты – далеко не лучшая идея для покупателей, но поистине потрясающий ход для выпускающих их компаний.

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В последние годы подарочные карты стали чрезвычайно популярны; сегодня в Америке это подарок номер один. Две трети потребителей планируют приобрести по меньшей мере одну такую карту. Однако, заметьте, люди, которым мы их дарим, их не используют. В среднем в кошельках и ящиках комодов каждого американца уже сейчас валяется по три-четыре неиспользованные подарочные карты. В итоге, не отоваривая их, потенциальные покупатели ежегодно теряют около восьми миллиардов долларов. И денежки остаются в карманах компаний, которые эти карты выпустили. Например, в 2008 году Limited Brands, компания – владелец сети магазинов нижнего женского белья Victoria’s Secret, отчиталась о ежеквартальной прибыли до вычета налогов в размере 47,8 миллиона долларов, полученной исключительно благодаря неиспользованным подарочным картам на ее товары. И это не единственный случай. Крупные сети розничной торговли, такие как Target, Best Buy и Home Depot, тоже успешно наживаются на неиспользованных картах.

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The troops were encamped in the form of a hollow square, and thus were necessarily between the Indians and the light of their own camp-fires. Not a warrior was to be seen. The only guide the Americans had in shooting, was to notice the flash of the enemy’s guns. They fired at the flash. But as every Indian stood behind a tree, it is not probable that many, if any, were harmed. The Indians were very wary not to expose themselves. They kept at a great distance, and were not very successful in their fire. Though they wounded quite a number, only four men were killed. With the dawn of the morning they all vanished.

General Jackson did not wish to leave the corpses of the slain to be dug up and scalped by the savages. He therefore erected a large funeral pyre, placed the bodies upon it, and they were soon consumed to ashes. Some litters were made of long and flexible poles, attached to two horses, one at each end, and upon these the wounded were conveyed over the rough and narrow way. The Indians, thus far, had manifestly been the victors They had inflicted serious injury upon the Americans; and there is no evidence that a single one of their warriors had received the slightest harm. This was the great object of Indian strategy. In the wars of civilization, a great general has ever been willing to sacrifice the lives of ten thousand of his own troops if, by so doing, he could kill twenty thousand of the enemy. But it was never so with the Indians. They prized the lives of their warriors too highly.

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On their march the troops came to a wide creek, which it was necessary to cross. Here the Indians again prepared for battle. They concealed themselves so effectually as to elude all the vigilance of the scouts. When about half the troops had crossed the stream, the almost invisible Indians commenced their assault, opening a very rapid but scattering fire. Occasionally a warrior was seen darting from one point to another, to obtain better vantage-ground.

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These trifles are collected and republished chiefly with a view to their redemption from the many improvements to which they have been subjected while going at random the “rounds of the press.” I am naturally anxious that what I have written should circulate as I wrote it, if it circulate at all. In defence of my own taste, nevertheless, it is incumbent upon me to say that I think nothing in this volume of much value to the public, or very creditable to myself. Events not to be controlled have prevented me from making, at any time, any serious effort in what, under happier circumstances, would have been the field of my choice. With me poetry has been not a purpose, but a passion; and the passions should be held in reverence: they must not–they cannot at will be excited, with an eye to the paltry compensations, or the more paltry commendations, of mankind.

“Annabel Lee” was written early in 1849, and is evidently an expression of the poet’s undying love for his deceased bride although at least one of his lady admirers deemed it a response to her admiration. Poe sent a copy of the ballad to the ‘Union Magazine’, in which publication it appeared in January 1850, three months after the author’s death. Whilst suffering from “hope deferred” as to its fate, Poe presented a copy of “Annabel Lee” to the editor of the ‘Southern Literary Messenger’, who published it in the November number of his periodical, a month after Poe’s death. In the meantime the poet’s own copy, left among his papers, passed into the hands of the person engaged to edit his works, and he quoted the poem in an obituary of Poe in the New York ‘Tribune’, before any one else had an opportunity of publishing it.

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How steep the stairs within King’s houses are For exile-wearied feet as mine to tread, And O how salt and bitter is the bread Which falls from this Hound’s table, – better far That I had died in the red ways of war, Or that the gate of Florence bare my head, Than to live thus, by all things comraded Which seek the get rid of lower back pain essence of my soul to mar.

‘Curse God and die: what better hope than this? He hath forgotten thee in all the bliss Of his gold city, and eternal day’ – Nay peace: behind my prison’s blinded bars I do possess what none can take away, My love and all the glory of the stars.

These are the letters which Endymion wrote To one he loved in secret, and apart. And now the brawlers of the auction mart Bargain and bid for each poor blotted note, Ay! for each separate pulse of passion quote The merchant’s price. I think they love not art Who break the crystal of a poet’s heart That small and sickly eyes may glare and gloat.

Is it not said that many years ago, In a far Eastern town, some soldiers ran With torches through the midnight, and began To wrangle for mean raiment, and to throw Dice for the garments of a wretched man, Not knowing the God’s wonder, or His woe?

The sin was mine; I did not understand. So now is music prisoned in her cave, Save where some ebbing desultory wave Frets with its restless whirls this meagre strand. And in the withered hollow of this land Hath Summer dug herself so deep a grave, That hardly can the leaden willow crave One silver blossom from keen Winter’s hand.

But who is this who cometh by the shore? (Nay, love, look up and wonder!) Who is this Who cometh in dyed garments from the South? It is thy new-found Lord, and he shall kiss The yet unravished roses of thy mouth, And I shall weep and worship, as before.

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Priam came out of the house with the bag in one hand and the valise in the other, a pipe in his mouth, a stick under his arm, and an overcoat on his shoulder. Alice ran up the steps, gazed within the house, pulled the door to silently, and locked it. Then beneath the summer stars she and Priam hastened furtively, as though the luggage had contained swag, up Werter Road towards Oxford Road. When they had turned the corner they felt very much relieved.

It was their second attempt. The first, made in daylight, had completely failed. Their cab had been followed to Paddington Station by three other cabs containing the representatives and the cameras of three Sunday newspapers. A journalist had deliberately accompanied Priam to the booking office, had heard him ask for two seconds to Weymouth, and had bought a second to Weymouth himself. They had gone to Weymouth, but as within two hours of their arrival Weymouth had become even more impossible than Werter Road, they had ignominiously but wisely come back.

Werter Road had developed into the most celebrated thoroughfare in London. Its photograph had appeared in scores of newspapers, with a cross marking the abode of Priam and Alice. It was beset and infested by journalists of several nationalities from morn till night. Cameras were as common in it as lamp-posts. And a famous descriptive reporter of the _Sunday News_ had got lodgings, at a high figure, exactly opposite No. 29. Priam and Alice could do nothing without publicity. And if it would be an exaggeration to assert, that evening papers appeared with Stop-press News: “5.40. Mrs. Leek went out shopping,” the exaggeration would not be very extravagant. For a fortnight Priam had not been beyond the door during daylight. It was Alice who, alarmed by Priam’s pallid cheeks and tightened nerves, had devised the plan of flight before the early summer dawn.

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They reached East Putney Station, of which the gates were closed, the first workman’s train being not yet due. And there they stood. Not another human being was abroad. Only the clock of St. Bude’s was faithfully awakening every soul within a radius of two hundred yards each quarter of an hour. Then a porter came and opened the gate–it was still exceedingly early–and Priam booked for Waterloo in triumph.

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George, full of the idea of iron, in desperation answers “Steel,” and is so presented. He is left alone with the gentleman in the office, who sits at a table with account-books before him and some sheets of paper blotted with hosts of figures and drawings of cunning shapes. It is a bare office, with bare windows, looking on the iron view below. Tumbled together on the table are some pieces gucci handbags australia of iron, purposely broken to be tested at various periods of their service, in various capacities. There is iron-dust on everything; and the smoke is seen through the windows rolling heavily out of the tall chimneys to mingle with the smoke from a vaporous Babylon of other chimneys.

Well, Mr. Rouncewell,” George replies, leaning forward with his left arm on his knee and his hat in his hand, and very chary of meeting his brother’s eye, “I am not without my expectations that in the present visit I may prove to be more free than welcome. I have served as a dragoon in my day, and a comrade of mine that I was once rather partial to was, if I don’t deceive myself, a brother of yours. I believe you had a brother who gave his family some trouble, and ran away, and never did any good but in keeping away?

You are too quick for me!” cries the trooper with the tears springing out of his eyes. “How do you do, my dear old fellow? I never could have thought you would have been half so glad to see me as all this. How do you do, my dear old fellow, how do you do!

They shake hands and embrace each other over and over again, the trooper still coupling his “How do you do, my dear old fellow!” with his protestation that he never thought his brother would have been half so glad to see him as all this!

So far from it,” he declares at the end of a full account of what has preceded his arrival there, “I had very little idea of making myself known. I thought if you took by any means forgivingly to my name I might gradually get myself up to the point of writing a letter. But I should not have been surprised, brother, if you had considered it anything but welcome news to hear of me.

We will show you at home what kind of news we think it, George,” returns his brother. “This is a great day at home, and you could not have arrived, you bronzed old soldier, on a better. I make an agreement with my son Watt to-day that on this day twelvemonth he shall marry as pretty and as good a girl as you have seen in all your travels. She goes to Germany to-morrow with one of your nieces for a little polishing up in her education. We make a feast of the event, and you will be made the hero of it.

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We appeared to retrace the way we had come. Not that I had taken note of any particular objects in my perturbed state of mind, but judging from the general character of the streets. We called at another office or station for a minute and crossed the river again. During the whole of this time, and during the whole search, my companion, wrapped up on the box, never relaxed in his vigilance a single moment; but when we crossed the bridge he seemed, if possible, to be more on the alert than before. He stood up to look over the parapet, he alighted and went back after a shadowy female figure that flitted past us, and he gazed into the profound black pit of water with a face that made my heart die within me. The river had a fearful look, so overcast and secret, creeping away so fast between the low flat lines of shore–so heavy with indistinct and awful shapes, both of substance and shadow; so death-like and mysterious. I have seen it many times since then, by sunlight and by moonlight, but never free from the impressions of that journey. In my memory the lights upon the bridge are always burning dim, the cutting wind is eddying round the homeless woman whom we pass, the monotonous wheels are whirling on, and the light of the carriage- lamps reflected back looks palely in upon me–a face rising out of the dreaded water.

Clattering and clattering through the empty streets, we came at length from the pavement on to dark smooth roads and began to leave the houses behind us. After a while I recognized the familiar way to Saint Albans. At Barnet fresh horses were ready for us, and we changed and went on. It was very cold indeed, and the open country was white with snow, though none was falling then.

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He had gone into every late or early public-house where there was a light (they were not a few at that time, the road being then much frequented by drovers) and had got down to talk to the turnpike- keepers. I had heard him ordering drink, and chinking money, and making himself agreeable and merry everywhere; but whenever he took his seat upon the box again, his face resumed its watchful steady look, and he always said to the driver in the same business tone, “Get on, my lad!

With all these stoppages, it was between five and six o’clock and we were yet a few miles short of Saint Albans when he came out of one of these houses and handed me in a cup of tea.

Passed through here on foot this evening about eight or nine. I heard of her first at the archway toll, over at Highgate, but couldn’t make quite sure. Traced her all along, on and off. Picked her up at one place, and dropped her at another; but she’s before us now, safe. Take hold of this cup and saucer, ostler. Now, if you wasn’t brought up to the butter trade, look out and see if you can catch half a crown in your t’other hand. One, two, three, and there you are! Now, my lad, try a gallop!

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When I had come home from Caddy’s while she was ill, I had often found Ada at work, and she had always put her work away, and I had never known what it was. Some of it now lay in a drawer near her, which was not quite closed. I did not open the drawer, but I still rather wondered what the work could he, for it was evidently nothing for herself. iwc replica

How much less amiable I must have been than they thought me, how much less amiable than I thought myself, to be so preoccupied with my own cheerfulness and contentment as to think that it only rested with me to put my dear girl right and set her mind at peace!

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“Sir,” rejoined Mr. Vholes, self-contained as usual, voice and all, “it is a part of my professional duty to know best. It is a part of my professional duty to study and to understand a gentleman who confides his interests to me. In my professional duty I shall not be wanting, sir, if I know it. I may, with the best intentions, be wanting in it without knowing it; but not if I know it, sir.”

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Richard, emerging from the heavy shade of Symond’s Inn into the sunshine of Chancery Lane–for there happens to be sunshine there to-day–walks thoughtfully on, and turns into Lincoln’s Inn, and passes under the shadow of the Lincoln’s Inn trees. On many such loungers have the speckled shadows of those trees often fallen; on the like bent head, the bitten nail, the lowering eye, the lingering step, the purposeless and dreamy air, the good consuming and consumed, the life turned sour. This lounger is not shabby yet, but that may come. Chancery, which knows no wisdom but in precedent, is very rich in such precedents; and why should one be different from ten thousand?

Yet the time is so short since his depreciation began that as he saunters away, reluctant to leave the spot for some long months together, though he hates it, Richard himself may feel his own case as if it were a startling one. While his heart is heavy with corroding care, suspense, distrust, and doubt, it may have room for some sorrowful wonder when he recalls how different his first visit there, how different he, how different all the colours of his mind. But injustice breeds injustice; the fighting with shadows and being defeated by cialis free trial them necessitates the setting up of substances to combat; from the impalpable suit which no man alive can understand, the time for that being long gone by, it has become a gloomy relief to turn to the palpable figure of the friend who would have saved him from this ruin and make HIM his enemy. Richard has told Vholes the truth. Is he in a hardened or a softened mood, he still lays his injuries equally at that door; he was thwarted, in that quarter, of a set purpose, and that purpose could only originate in the one subject that is resolving his existence into itself; besides, it is a justification to him in his own eyes to have an embodied antagonist and oppressor.

Two pairs of eyes not unused to such people look after him, as, biting his nails and brooding, he crosses the square and is swallowed up by the shadow of the southern gateway. Mr. Guppy and Mr. Weevle are the possessors of those eyes, and they have been leaning in conversation against the low stone parapet under the trees. He passes close by them, seeing nothing but the ground.