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Quote by Dr Margaret Aranda

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Dr Margaret Aranda

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“Pool of memories Like a dry flower petal that flies in the air, Feeling it belongs to the sky, I find her memories floating in my mind everywhere, Whether I am thinking of her or in a vacant state of my mind I lie, The memory, her memory, drifts from one neuron to another, Until it settles where all her memories lie piled up, And then these fragments and bits of memories condole each other, And they all say together, “Hey you amorous soul, never give up!” And all these memories rise and spread across my mind, Hitched to every thought that arises from my cerebral thinking, Though they think of now and sometimes of the future, eventually with her imaginations they all bind, And in this pool of memories, now, time appears to be sinking, So it doesn't matter whether it was yesterday or it is today, Because I have been granted my wish, That to lie immersed in her thoughts everyday, In this pool of her memories the only fish, That swims across it, Feeds on it, and lives in this pool, And then begins the true wonder of it, The wonder of the romantic pool, Where she assumes the form of every drop of memory, And like a fish I swim and dive into her soul freely, In a love’s own nursery, Where I love her and romance her freely!”

“Humanity does not gradually progress from combat to combat until it arrives at universal reciprocity, where the rule of law finally replaces warfare; humanity installs each of its violences in a system of rules and thus proceeds from domination to domination. The nature of these rules allows violence to be inflicted on violence and the resurgence of new forces that are sufficiently strong to dominate those in power. Rules are empty in themselves, violent and unfinalized; they are impersonal and can be bent to any purpose. The successes of history belong to those who are capable of seizing these rules, to replace those who had used them, to disguise themselves so as to pervert them, invert their meaning, and redirect them against those who had initially imposed them; controlling this complex mechanism, they will make it function so as to overcome the rulers through their own rules.”

“Michigan is still home to one of the most extreme human containment systems in the United States. Its prison population has increased by 450 percent since 1973, and the state maintains a higher rate of imprisonment than most countries. African Americans are the largest incarcerated group by far in Michigan, with a total population of 14 percent and a penal population of 49 percent. Latinos and Native Americans are incarcerated in Michigan at rates equal to their population percentage. However, white Michiganders, who make up 77 percent of the general population, are underrepresented in the prison population at 46 percent. Racialized sentencing policies have much to do with these statistics. Historians Heather Ann Thompson and Matthew Lassiter, the founding codirectors of the Carceral State Project at the University of Michigan, point to "draconian" state legislation that by the 1990s included the infamous "lifer laws," which exacted life terms for narcotics possessions of over 650 grams and extinguished the opportunity for parole. As men and women were thrown behind bars for nonviolent offenses in the 1980s through the early 2000s, Detroit neighborhoods were gutted, children were orphaned, and voter rolls were depleted.”

“This looks good." "That's Metamucil," Bricker said with disgust, snatching it from her hand. "So?" She turned to scowl at him. "What's wrong with Metamucil?" "It's--" He glanced at the container and read, "A dietary supplement." "That sounds healthy," she said, trying to grab it back. "Eshe," he said, his disgust giving way to amusement. "It's what old mortals take to get regular." "To get regular what?" she asked, and then poked him in the stomach, hard. The moment Bricker bent over with an "oomph," she snatched the container back and repeated, "Regular what?" "Crap," he gasped, clutching his stomach. "I didn't hit you that hard," she said with some disgust of her own. "No." He sighed, straightening. "I meant that's what they get regulated. Crap." Eshe dropped the can in dismay. "They buy crap?”