H2LI对《17.3 扎克伯格:怎样的公司才是伟大的(练习版)》发表的评论:Theburiedtalentisthesunkenrockonwhichmostlivesstrikeandfounder.Icanonlychangemyli...
Meanwhile the press had taken up my affair, and kept me, for a week or two, careering through the public prints, in my decapitated state, like Irving's Headless Horseman; ghastly and grim, and longing to be buried, as a politically dead man ought. So much for my figurative self. The...
不会是因为埃及社会对女性太不友好所以没法像何伟那样出去跑采访开展工作吧?一直看到何伟说他们俩在紧挨着的两个书房里各做各的research我的心才算放下来。当看到最后致谢的部分,何伟没有说什么“感谢Leslie的付出牺牲支持/把本书献给Leslie”这样的狗屁话我更开心了,希望早日看到Leslie的书。跑题完毕。也是满巧合的,...
The tragedy here isn’t just a buried talent; it’s a buried opportunity for positive influence and growth. The biggest risk is often not taking any risk at all, especially when entrusted with something as invaluable as a talent. Instead of taking responsibility, the third servant chose to b...
JResearchers, documenting the behavior of Atlantic dolphins foraging for buried prey along the banks of Grand Bahama Island, have found that these dolphins, while swimming close to the bottom searching for prey, typically move their heads in a scanning motion, either swinging their snout back and...
Then there are those, “seemingly” usually buried on the last page (but not on Salem-News.com) rare occasions where the knife becomes a stick of butter. And that just makes my contributions not only easier but a whole lot sweeter too. Love or hate it, whatever the case, this is what...
“Yes, he went home. And when I was only a week in the convent he died and he was buried in Oughterard, where his people came from.O, the day I heard that, that he was dead!” She stopped, choking with sobs, and, overcome by emotion, flung herself face downward on the bed, so...
S. A. Chakraborty is a speculative fiction writer from New York City. Her debut, The City of Brass, was the first book in The Daevabad Trilogy and has been short-listed for the Locus, British Fantasy and World Fantasy awards. When not buried in books about Mughal miniatures and Abbasid ...
“Away! begone!” These, her words, the words of the living Psyche, echoed through his heart, escaped from his lips. He buried his head in the pillows, his thoughts grew confused, and he fell asleep. In the morning dawn he started up, and collected his thoughts anew. What had happened...
And she asked, ‘Wilt thou be buried on the rock, in the firm snow? I will deck the spot with thy kayak, and thy arrows, and the angekokk shall dance over it. Or wouldst thou rather be buried in the sea?’‘In the sea,’ he whispered, and nodded with a mournful smile. ‘Yes...