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Quote by Jarod Kintz

“To blame me in the past is a very future me thing to do. But what am I supposed to do, scapegoat someone else for my mistakes? Somebody needs to be held accountable, and it certainly won’t be the version of me in that moment.”

Quote by Jarod Kintz

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The Lewis and Clark of The Ozarks

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Jarod Kintz

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“Most people have probably met enzymes in school biology as the agents responsible for digesting our food, breaking down the starch of pasta, rice, potatoes into sugar and so on. Many meet them again as they face their washing machine, stained sports clothes in hand, and wonder whether or not to use a ‘biological’ detergent, containing added but unspecified ‘enzymes’ to do mysterious things to the clothes. As it happens, in both contexts the enzymes’ function is very similar, breaking down large chemical molecules into smaller bits that will wash away. People do not generally realize, however, that enzymes have much wider and more diverse roles and that, in effect, they orchestrate the whole of life.”

“Dialectical Materialism teaches us that life originated on earth as a result of the process of development of matter. Nature should be considered not as a state of rest and immobility, stagnation and immutability, but as a state of continuous movement and change. All phenomena should be studied from the standpoint of their continuous renewal and development, their arising and dying away.”

“With the downtown of Fort Wayne nearly abandoned, my mother would weave the car down one-way streets heading west, then east, featuring display after display of historical holiday cheer. Our official tour began at the bread factory, where a mechanical wheel of never-ending sliced bread actually never stopped slicing, and the smell of hot flour, sugar, and yeast entwined itself with Christmas. The factory would be decorated with blinking lights cascading from just below the perpetually spinning bread wheel, to what I assumed was the ground beneath us. We'd pass Santa and his reindeer, bigger than life and all lit up on the side of PNC Bank, and he would wink at me. I knew it was a trick of the light, but I winked back just in case the real Santa might know that I didn't. The drive was nearly over when we got to the bright green wreath on the plaza, but this was also the spot where my mom would park and let us out. All three of us would jump towards the wreath that was mounted much too high for any person to read. We didn't think we could reach it either but that didn't stop us from trying.”

“She returned to the kitchen, where she'd been making sugared flowers. Mint leaves, tiny violets and old-fashioned rose petals, heavy with perfume, lay on the counter. Very gently she dipped each one into the stiff egg whites, then in confectioners' sugar, and then placed them on the baking sheet, which she put in the warm oven, the door ajar. It gave the room the scent of a garden, heady and sweet. Sabine had planned to store the sweets in canning jars- there were still a few gaskets and lids left- and save them for cake. When she was a child, her grand-mère had once made her a Saint-Honoré for her birthday. It was the most wondrous cake in the world. Not a cake at all but a composition of tiny puffs of choux pastry filled with vanilla cream, very much like profiteroles, but molded together with caramel and covered with whipped chantilly cream fresh from the dairy. Her grand-mère decorated it with candied flowers and mint leaves. Sabine never had anything like it before or since and suddenly wanted to make that cake again.”