① Was George Justified In Killing Lennie Research Paper

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Was George Justified In Killing Lennie Research Paper



Donald Trump has lost billions Was George Justified In Killing Lennie Research Paper his financial Was George Justified In Killing Lennie Research Paper. Like they say in Was George Justified In Killing Lennie Research Paper, where I learned the oil business, this book Was George Justified In Killing Lennie Research Paper written for those who want to hunt with the big dogs—pee in the tall grass! Still, they are bewildered if asked what the tears are all about. Psychologists use the rather ponderous term metacognition to refer to an awareness of thought process, and metamood to mean awareness of one's Was George Justified In Killing Lennie Research Paper emotions. Somebody who's been there. Despite these social constraints, passions overwhelm reason Was George Justified In Killing Lennie Research Paper and again. Was George Justified In Killing Lennie Research Paper journey's end is to understand Theme Of Archetype In Beowulf it means—and how—to bring intelligence to emotion. The success stories coming to fruition Analysis Of Lady Macbeth Scotland and England are prov- ing what I've said all along—that Quantum Leap strategies are universal in their application.

Why was George not justified in killing Lennie quotes?

I was heading back to a hotel, and as I stepped onto a bus up Madison Avenue I was startled by the driver, a middle-aged black man with an enthusiastic smile, who welcomed me with a friendly, "Hi! How you doing? Each passenger was as startled as I, and, locked into the morose mood of the day, few returned his greeting. But as the bus crawled uptown through the gridlock, a slow, rather magical transformation occurred. The driver gave a running monologue for our benefit, a lively commentary on the passing scene around us: there was a terrific sale at that store, a wonderful exhibit at this museum, did you hear about the new movie that just opened at that cinema down the block? His delight in the rich possibilities the city offered was infectious.

By the time people got off the bus, each in turn had shaken off the sullen shell they had entered with, and when the driver shouted out a "So long, have a great day! The memory of that encounter has stayed with me for close to twenty years. When I rode that Madison Avenue bus, I had just finished my own doctorate in psychology—but there was scant attention paid in the psychology of the day to just how such a transformation could happen. Psychological science knew little or nothing of the mechanics of emotion. And yet, imagining the spreading virus of good feeling that must have rippled through the city, starting from passengers on his bus, I saw that this bus driver was an urban peacemaker of sorts, wizardlike in his power to transmute the sullen irritability that seethed in his passengers, to soften and open their hearts a bit.

The reason: some third-grade classmates called him a "baby" and he wanted to impress them. The report notes that such shootings over seemingly minor slights, which are perceived as acts of disrespect, have become increasingly common around the country in recent years. In almost half the cases, the parents say they were "merely trying to discipline the child. Part of a neo-Nazi group, he tells of failing to hold jobs, of drinking, of blaming his hard luck on foreigners. In a barely audible voice, he pleads, "I can't stop being sorry for what we've done, and I am infinitely ashamed. But the news simply reflects back to us on a larger scale a creeping sense of emotions out of control in our own lives and in those of the people around us.

No one is insulated from this erratic tide of outburst and regret; it reaches into all of our lives in one way or another. The last decade has seen a steady drumroll of reports like these, portraying an uptick in emotional ineptitude, desperation, and recklessness in our families, our communities, and our collective lives. These years have chronicled surging rage and despair, whether in the quiet loneliness of latchkey kids left with a TV for a babysitter, or in the pain of children abandoned, neglected, or abused, or in the ugly intimacy of marital violence.

A spreading emotional malaise can be read in numbers showing a jump in depression around the world, and in the reminders of a surging tide of aggression—teens with guns in schools, freeway mishaps ending in shootings, disgruntled ex-employees massacring former fellow workers. Emotional abuse, drive-by shooting, and post-traumatic stress all entered the common lexicon over the last decade, as the slogan of the hour shifted from the cheery "Have a nice day" to the testiness of "Make my day. As a psychologist, and for the last decade as a journalist for The New York Times, I have been tracking the progress of our scientific understanding of the realm of the irrational. From that perch I have been struck by two opposing trends, one portraying a growing calamity in our shared emotional life, the other offering some hopeful remedies.

Most dramatic are the glimpses of the brain at work, made possible by innovative methods such as new brain-imaging technologies. They have made visible for the first time in human history what has always been a source of deep mystery: exactly how this intricate mass of cells operates while we think and feel, imagine and dream. This flood of neurobiological data lets us understand more clearly than ever how the brain's centers for emotion move us to rage or to tears, and how more ancient parts of the brain, which stir us to make war as well as love, are channeled for better or worse. This unprecedented clarity on the workings of emotions and their failings brings into focus some fresh remedies for our collective emotional crisis.

I have had to wait till now before the scientific harvest was full enough to write this book. These insights are so late in coming largely because the place of feeling in mental life has been surprisingly slighted by research over the years, leaving the emotions a largely unexplored continent for scientific psychology. Into this void has rushed a welter of self-help books, well-intentioned advice based at best on clinical opinion but lacking much, if any, scientific basis. Now science is finally able to speak with authority to these urgent and perplexing questions of the psyche at its most irrational, to map with some precision the human heart. This mapping offers a challenge to those who subscribe to a narrow view of intelligence, arguing that IQ is a genetic given that cannot be changed by life experience, and that our destiny in life is largely fixed by these aptitudes.

That argument ignores the more challenging question: What can we change that will help our children fare better in life? What factors are at play, for example, when people of high IQ flounder and those of modest IQ do surprisingly well? I would argue that the difference quite often lies in the abilities called here emotional intelligence, which include self-control, zeal and persistence, and the ability to motivate oneself.

And these skills, as we shall see, can be taught to children, giving them a better chance to use whatever intellectual potential the genetic lottery may have given them. Beyond this possibility looms a pressing moral imperative. These are times when the fabric of society seems to unravel at ever-greater speed, when selfishness, violence, and a meanness of spirit seem to be rotting the goodness of our communal lives. Here the argument for the importance of emotional intelligence hinges on the link between sentiment, character, and moral instincts.

There is growing evidence that fundamental ethical stances in life stem from underlying emotional capacities. For one, impulse is the medium of emotion; the seed of all impulse is a feeling bursting to express itself in action. Those who are at the mercy of impulse—who lack self-control—suffer a moral deficiency: The ability to control impulse is the base of will and character. And if there are any two moral stances that our times call for, they are precisely these, self-restraint and compassion. OUR JOURNEY In this book I serve as a guide in a journey through these scientific insights into the emotions, a voyage aimed at bringing greater understanding to some of the most perplexing moments in our own lives and in the world around us.

The journey's end is to understand what it means—and how—to bring intelligence to emotion. This understanding itself can help to some degree; bringing cognizance to the realm of feeling has an effect something like the impact of an observer at the quantum level in physics, altering what is being observed. Our journey begins in Part One with new discoveries about the brain's emotional architecture that offer an explanation of those most baffling moments in our lives when feeling overwhelms all rationality. Understanding the interplay of brain structures that rule our moments of rage and fear—or passion and joy—reveals much about how we learn the emotional habits that can undermine our best intentions, as well as what we can do to subdue our more destructive or self-defeating emotional impulses.

Most important, the neurological data suggest an opportunity for shaping our children's emotional habits. The next major stop on our journey, Part Two of this book, is in seeing how neurological givens play out in the basic flair for living called emotional intelligence: being able, for example, to rein in emotional impulse; to read another's innermost feelings; to handle relationships smoothly—as Aristotle put it, the rare skill "to be angry with the right person, to the right degree, at the right time, for the right purpose, and in the right way.

This expanded model of what it means to be "intelligent" puts emotions at the center of aptitudes for living. Part Three examines some key differences this aptitude makes: how these abilities can preserve our most prized relationships, or their lack corrode them; how the market forces that are reshaping our work life are putting an unprecedented premium on emotional intelligence for on-the-job success; and how toxic emotions put our physical health at as much risk as does chain-smoking, even as emotional balance can help protect our health and well-being. Our genetic heritage endows each of us with a series of emotional set-points that determines our temperament.

But the brain circuitry involved is extraordinarily malleable; temperament is not destiny. As Part Four shows, the emotional lessons we learn as children at home and at school shape the emotional circuits, making us more adept—or inept—at the basics of emotional intelligence. Part Five explores what hazards await those who, in growing to maturity, fail to master the emotional realm—how deficiencies in emotional intelligence heighten a spectrum of risks, from depression or a life of violence to eating disorders and drug abuse.

And it documents how pioneering schools are teaching children the emotional and social skills they need to keep their lives on track. Perhaps the most disturbing single piece of data in this book comes from a massive survey of parents and teachers and shows a worldwide trend for the present generation of children to be more troubled emotionally than the last: more lonely and depressed, more angry and unruly, more nervous and prone to worry, more impulsive and aggressive. If there is a remedy, I feel it must lie in how we prepare our young for life. At present we leave the emotional education of our children to chance, with ever more disastrous results.

One solution is a new vision of what schools can do to educate the whole student, bringing together mind and heart in the classroom. Our journey ends with visits to innovative classes that aim to give children a grounding in the basics of emotional intelligence. I can foresee a day when education will routinely include inculcating essential human competencies such as self-awareness, self-control, and empathy, and the arts of listening, resolving conflicts, and cooperation.

In The Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle's philosophical enquiry into virtue, character, and the good life, his challenge is to manage our emotional life with intelligence. Our passions, when well exercised, have wisdom; they guide our thinking, our values, our survival. But they can easily go awry, and do so all too often. As Aristotle saw, the problem is not with emotionality, but with the appropriateness of emotion and its expression. The question is, how can we bring intelligence to our emotions—and civility to our streets and caring to our communal life?

It is with the heart that one sees rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. The Chauncey family were passengers on an Amtrak train that crashed into a river after a barge hit and weakened a railroad bridge in Louisiana's bayou country. Thinking first of their daughter, the couple tried their best to save Andrea as water rushed into the sinking train; somehow they managed to push Andrea through a window to rescuers. Then, as the car sank beneath the water, they perished.

Without doubt such incidents of parental sacrifice for their progeny have been repeated countless times in human history and prehistory, and countless more in the larger course of evolution of our species. But from the perspective of a parent making a desperate decision in a moment of crisis, it is about nothing other than love. As an insight into the purpose and potency of emotions, this exemplary act of parental heroism testifies to the role of altruistic love—and every other emotion we feel—in human life. That power is extraordinary: Only a potent love—the urgency of saving a cherished child—could lead a parent to override the impulse for personal survival.

Seen from the intellect, their self-sacrifice was arguably irrational; seen from the heart, it was the only choice to make. Sociobiologists point to the preeminence of heart over head at such crucial moments when they conjecture about why evolution has given emotion such a central role in the human psyche. Each emotion offers a distinctive readiness to act; each points us in a direction that has worked well to handle the recurring challenges of human life. A view of human nature that ignores the power of emotions is sadly shortsighted. The very name Homo sapiens, the thinking species, is misleading in light of the new appreciation and vision of the place of emotions in our lives that science now offers.

As we all know from experience, when it comes to shaping our decisions and our actions, feeling counts every bit as much—and often more—than thought. We have gone too far in emphasizing the value and import of the purely rational—of what IQ measures—in human life. Intelligence can come to nothing when the emotions hold sway. Fourteen-year-old Matilda Crabtree was just playing a practical joke on her father: she jumped out of a closet and yelled "Boo! But Bobby Crabtree and his wife thought Matilda was staying with friends that night.

Hearing noises as he entered the house, Crabtree reached for his. When his daughter jumped from the closet, Crabtree shot her in the neck. Matilda Crabtree died twelve hours later. Fear primed Crabtree to shoot before he could fully register what he was shooting at, even before he could recognize his daughter's voice. Automatic reactions of this sort have become etched in our nervous system, evolutionary biologists presume, because for a long and crucial period in human prehistory they made the difference between survival and death. Even more important, they mattered for the main task of evolution: being able to bear progeny who would carry on these very genetic predispositions—a sad irony, given the tragedy at the Crabtree household. But while our emotions have been wise guides in the evolutionary long run, the new realities civilization presents have arisen with such rapidity that the slow march of evolution cannot keep up.

Indeed, the first laws and proclamations of ethics—the Code of Hammurabi, the Ten Commandments of the Hebrews, the Edicts of Emperor Ashoka —can be read as attempts to harness, subdue, and domesticate emotional life. Despite these social constraints, passions overwhelm reason time and again. This given of human nature arises from the basic architecture of mental life. In terms of biological design for the basic neural circuitry of emotion, what we are born with is what worked best for the last 50, human generations, not the last generations— and certainly not the last five. The slow, deliberate forces of evolution that have shaped our emotions have done their work over the course of a million years; the last 10, years—despite having witnessed the rapid rise of human civilization and the explosion of the human population from five million to five billion—have left little imprint on our biological templates for emotional life.

For better or for worse, our appraisal of every personal encounter and our responses to it are shaped not just by our rational judgments or our personal history, but also by our distant ancestral past. This leaves us with sometimes tragic propensities, as witness the sad events at the Crabtree household. In short, we too often confront postmodern dilemmas with an emotional repertoire tailored to the urgencies of the Pleistocene. That predicament is at the heart of my subject. Impulses to Action One early spring day I was driving along a highway over a mountain pass in Colorado, when a snow flurry suddenly blotted out the car a few lengths ahead of me.

As I peered ahead I couldn't make out anything; the swirling snow was now a blinding whiteness. Pressing my foot on the brake, I could feel anxiety flood my body and hear the thumping of my heart. The anxiety built to full fear: I pulled over to the side of the road, waiting for the flurry to pass. A half hour later the snow stopped, visibility returned, and I continued on my way—only to be stopped a few hundred yards down the road, where an ambulance crew was helping a passenger in a car that had rear-ended a slower car in front; the collision blocked the highway. If I had continued driving in the blinding snow, I probably would have hit them. The caution fear forced on me that day may have saved my life.

Like a rabbit frozen in terror at the hint of a passing fox—or a protomammal hiding from a marauding dinosaur —I was overtaken by an internal state that compelled me to stop, pay attention, and take heed of a coming clanger. All emotions are, in essence, impulses to act, the instant plans for handling life that evolution has instilled in us. The very root of the word emotion is motere, the Latin verb "to move," plus the prefix "e-" to connote "move away," suggesting that a tendency to act is implicit in every emotion. At the same time, the body freezes, if only for a moment, perhaps allowing time to gauge whether hiding might be a better reaction. Circuits in the brain's emotional centers trigger a flood of hormones that put the body on general alert, making it edgy and ready for action, and attention fixates on the threat at hand, the better to evaluate what response to make.

But there is no particular shift in physiology save a quiescence, which makes the body recover more quickly from the biological arousal of upsetting emotions. This configuration offers the body a general rest, as well as readiness and enthusiasm for whatever task is at hand and for striving toward a great variety of goals. The parasympathetic pattern, dubbed the "relaxation response," is a body wide set of reactions that generates a general state of calm and contentment, facilitating cooperation.

This offers more information about the unexpected event, making it easier to figure out exactly what is going on and concoct the best plan for action. The facial expression of disgust—the upper lip curled to the side as the nose wrinkles slightly— suggests a primordial attempt, as Darwin observed, to close the nostrils against a noxious odor or to spit out a poisonous food. Sadness brings a drop in energy and enthusiasm for life's activities, particularly diversions and pleasures, and, as it deepens and approaches depression, slows the body's metabolism.

This introspective withdrawal creates the opportunity to mourn a loss or frustrated hope, grasp its consequences for one's life, and, as energy returns, plan new beginnings. This loss of energy may well have kept saddened—and vulnerable—early humans close to home, where they were safer. These biological propensities to act are shaped further by our life experience and our culture. For instance, universally the loss of a loved one elicits sadness and grief. But how we show our grieving—how emotions are displayed or held back for private moments—is molded by culture, as are which particular people in our lives fall into the category of "loved ones" to be mourned.

The protracted period of evolution when these emotional responses were hammered into shape was certainly a harsher reality than most humans endured as a species after the dawn of recorded history. It was a time when few infants survived to childhood and few adults to thirty years, when predators could strike at any moment, when the vagaries of droughts and floods meant the difference between starvation and survival.

But with the coming of agriculture and even the most rudimentary human societies, the odds for survival began to change dramatically. In the last ten thousand years, when these advances took hold throughout the world, the ferocious pressures that had held the human population in check eased steadily. Those same pressures had made our emotional responses so valuable for survival; as they waned, so did the goodness of fit of parts of our emotional repertoire.

While in the ancient past a hair-trigger anger may have offered a crucial edge for survival, the availability of automatic weaponry to thirteen-year-olds has made it too often a disastrous reaction. Her husband had fallen in love with a younger woman at work, and suddenly announced he was leaving to live with the other woman. Months of bitter wrangling over house, money, and custody of the children followed. Now, some months later, she was saying that her independence was appealing to her, that she was happy to be on her own. But as she said it, her eyes momentarily welled up with tears.

That moment of teary eyes could easily pass unnoted. But the empathic understanding that someone's watering eyes means she is sad despite her words to the contrary is an act of comprehending just as surely as is distilling meaning from words on a printed page. One is an act of the emotional mind, the other of the rational mind. In a very real sense we have two minds, one that thinks and one that feels. These two fundamentally different ways of knowing interact to construct our mental life. One, the rational mind, is the mode of comprehension we are typically conscious of: more prominent in awareness, thoughtful, able to ponder and reflect.

But alongside that there is another system of knowing: impulsive and powerful, if sometimes illogical —the emotional mind. For a more detailed description of the characteristics of the emotional mind, see Appendix B. There is a steady gradient in the ratio of rational-to-emotional control over the mind; the more intense the feeling, the more dominant the emotional mind becomes—and the more ineffectual the rational.

This is an arrangement that seems to stem from eons of evolutionary advantage to having emotions and intuitions guide our instantaneous response in situations where our lives are in peril—and where pausing to think over what to do could cost us our lives. These two minds, the emotional and the rational, operate in tight harmony for the most part, intertwining their very different ways of knowing to guide us through the world. Ordinarily there is a balance between emotional and rational minds, with emotion feeding into and informing the operations of the rational mind, and the rational mind refining and sometimes vetoing the inputs of the emotions.

Still, the emotional and rational minds are semi-independent faculties, each, as we shall see, reflecting the operation of distinct, but interconnected, circuitry in the brain. In many or most moments these minds are exquisitely coordinated; feelings are essential to thought, thought to feeling. But when passions surge the balance tips: it is the emotional mind that captures the upper hand, swamping the rational mind. The sixteenth- century humanist Erasmus of Rotterdam wrote in a satirical vein of this perennial tension between reason and emotion:9 Jupiter has bestowed far more passion than reason—you could calculate the ratio as 24 to one.

He set up two raging tyrants in opposition to Reason's solitary power: anger and lust. How far Reason can prevail against the combined forces of these two the common life of man makes quite clear. Human brains, with their three pounds or so of cells and neural juices, are about triple the size of those in our nearest cousins in evolution, the nonhuman primates. Over millions of years of evolution, the brain has grown from the bottom up, with its higher centers developing as elaborations of lower, more ancient parts.

The growth of the brain in the human embryo roughly retraces this evolutionary course. The most primitive part of the brain, shared with all species that have more than a minimal nervous system, is the brainstem surrounding the top of the spinal cord. This root brain regulates basic life functions like breathing and the metabolism of the body's other organs, as well as controlling stereotyped reactions and movements. This primitive brain cannot be said to think or learn; rather it is a set of preprogrammed regulators that keep the body running as it should and reacting in a way that ensures survival.

This brain reigned supreme in the Age of the Reptiles: Picture a snake hissing to signal the threat of an attack. From the most primitive root, the brainstem, emerged the emotional centers. Millions of years later in evolution, from these emotional areas evolved the thinking brain or "neocortex," the great bulb of convoluted tissues that make up the top layers. The fact that the thinking brain grew from the emotional reveals much about the relationship of thought to feeling; there was an emotional brain long before there was a rational one.

The most ancient root of our emotional life is in the sense of smell, or, more precisely, in the olfactory lobe, the cells that take in and analyze smell. Every living entity, be it nutritious, poisonous, sexual partner, predator or prey, has a distinctive molecular signature that can be carried in the wind. In those primitive times smell commended itself as a paramount sense for survival. From the olfactory lobe the ancient centers for emotion began to evolve, eventually growing large enough to encircle the top of the brainstem.

In its rudimentary stages, the olfactory center was composed of little more than thin layers of neurons gathered to analyze smell. One layer of cells took in what was smelled and sorted it out into the relevant categories: edible or toxic, sexually available, enemy or meal. A second layer of cells sent reflexive messages throughout the nervous system telling the body what to do: bite, spit, approach, flee, chase. Because this part of the brain rings and borders the brainstem, it was called the "limbic" system, from "limbus," the Latin word for "ring.

As it evolved, the limbic system refined two powerful tools: learning and memory. These revolutionary advances allowed an animal to be much smarter in its choices for survival, and to fine-tune its responses to adapt to changing demands rather than having invariable and automatic reactions. If a food led to sickness, it could be avoided next time. Decisions like knowing what to eat and what to spurn were still determined largely through smell; the connections between the olfactory bulb and the limbic system now took on the tasks of making distinctions among smells and recognizing them, comparing a present smell with past ones, and so discriminating good from bad.

This was done by the "rhinencephalon," literally, the "nose brain," a part of the limbic wiring, and the rudimentary basis of the neocortex, the thinking brain. About million years ago the brain in mammals took a great growth spurt. Piled on top of the thin two-layered cortex—the regions that plan, comprehend what is sensed, coordinate movement—several new layers of brain cells were added to form the neocortex. In contrast to the ancient brain's two-layered cortex, the neocortex offered an extraordinary intellectual edge. The Homo sapiens neocortex, so much larger than in any other species, has added all that is distinctly human.

The neocortex is the seat of thought; it contains the centers that put together and comprehend what the senses perceive. It adds to a feeling what we think about it—and allows us to have feelings about ideas, art, symbols, imaginings. In evolution the neocortex allowed a judicious fine-tuning that no doubt has made enormous advantages in an organism's ability to survive adversity, making it more likely that its progeny would in turn pass on the genes that contain that same neural circuitry. The survival edge is due to the neocortex's talent for strategizing, long-term planning, and other mental wiles. Beyond that, the triumphs of art, of civilization and culture, are all fruits of the neocortex.

This new addition to the brain allowed the addition of nuance to emotional life. Take love. Limbic structures generate feelings of pleasure and sexual desire—the emotions that feed sexual passion. But the addition of the neocortex and its connections to the limbic system allowed for the mother-child bond that is the basis of the family unit and the long-term commitment to childrearing that makes human development possible. Species that have no neocortex, such as reptiles, lack maternal affection; when their young hatch, the newborns must hide to avoid being cannibalized.

As we proceed up the phylogenetic scale from reptile to rhesus to human, the sheer mass of the neocortex increases; with that increase comes a geometric rise in the interconnections in brain circuitry. The larger the number of such connections, the greater the range of possible responses. The neocortex allows for the subtlety and complexity of emotional life, such as the ability to have feelings about our feelings.

There is more neocortex-to-limbic system in primates than in other species—and vastly more in humans—suggesting why we are able to display a far greater range of reactions to our emotions, and more nuance. While a rabbit or rhesus has a restricted set of typical responses to fear, the larger human neocortex allows a far more nimble repertoire—including calling The more complex the social system, the more essential is such flexibility—and there is no more complex social world than our own. Because so many of the brain's higher centers sprouted from or extended the scope of the limbic area, the emotional brain plays a crucial role in neural architecture.

As the root from which the newer brain grew, the emotional areas are intertwined via myriad connecting circuits to all parts of the neocortex. This gives the emotional centers immense power to influence the functioning of the rest of the brain— including its centers for thought. Martin Luther King, Jr. On that day Richard Robles, a seasoned burglar who had just been paroled from a three-year sentence for the more than one hundred break-ins he had pulled to support a heroin habit, decided to do one more. He wanted to renounce crime, Robles later claimed, but he desperately needed money for his girlfriend and their three-year-old daughter. The apartment he broke into that day belonged to two young women, twenty-one-year- old Janice Wylie, a researcher at Newsweek magazine, and twenty-three-year-old Emily Hoffert, a grade-school teacher.

Though Robles chose the apartment on New York's swanky Upper East Side to burglarize because he thought no one would be there, Wylie was home. Threatening her with a knife, Robles tied her up. As he was leaving, Hoffert came home. To make good his escape, Robles began to tie her up, too. As Robles tells the tale years later, while he was tying up Hoffert, Janice Wylie warned him he would not get away with this crime: She would remember his face and help the police track him down.

Robles, who had promised himself this was to have been his last burglary, panicked at that, completely losing control. In a frenzy, he grabbed a soda bottle and clubbed the women until they were unconscious, then, awash in rage and fear, he slashed and stabbed them over and over with a kitchen knife. Looking back on that moment some twenty-five years later, Robles lamented, "I just went bananas. My head just exploded. At this writing he is still in prison, some three decades later, for what became known as the "Career Girl Murders. At those moments, evidence suggests, a center in the limbic brain proclaims an emergency, recruiting the rest of the brain to its urgent agenda.

The hijacking occurs in an instant, triggering this reaction crucial moments before the neocortex, the thinking brain, has had a chance to glimpse fully what is happening, let alone decide if it is a good idea. The hallmark of such a hijack is that once the moment passes, those so possessed have the sense of not knowing what came over them. These hijacks are by no means isolated, horrific incidents that lead to brutal crimes like the Career Girl Murders. In less catastrophic form—but not necessarily less intense —they happen to us with fair frequency. Think back to the last time you "lost it," blowing up at someone—your spouse or child, or perhaps the driver of another car—to a degree that later, with some reflection and hindsight, seemed uncalled for.

In all probability, that, too, was such a hijacking, a neural takeover which, as we shall see, originates in the amygdala, a center in the limbic brain. Not all limbic hijackings are distressing. When a joke strikes someone as so uproarious that their laughter is almost explosive, that, too, is a limbic response. It is at work also in moments of intense joy: When Dan Jansen, after several heartbreaking failures to capture an Olympic Gold Medal for speed skating which he had vowed to do for his dying sister , finally won the Gold in the 1,meter race in the Winter Olympics in Norway, his wife was so overcome by the excitement and happiness that she had to be rushed to emergency physicians at rinkside. There are two amygdalas, one on each side of the brain, nestled toward the side of the head.

The human amygdala is relatively large compared to that in any of our closest evolutionary cousins, the primates. The hippocampus and the amygdala were the two key parts of the primitive "nose brain" that, in evolution, gave rise to the cortex and then the neocortex. To this day these limbic structures do much or most of the brain's learning and remembering; the amygdala is the specialist for emotional matters. Log in. Account Manage my subscription Activate my subscription Log out. Ken Welch used to write to the St. The best-of-five AL Division Series is now tied with action shifting to Boston for the next two games.

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When I protested, he said, "Trust me. You'll grow into it. The operating capital from the funds came in the form of general and administrative fees payable to GWDC. During those tenuous times when we couldn't afford the best New York attorneys and accountants, we got them anyway. How we hired them is a secret revealed in another chapter. One California day in the spring of , while Linda and I were running, the idea struck me to buy a castle I couldn't afford.

Yes … a medieval castle on an island. The ultimate os- tentation. We were doing well with our tax shelters, but we still needed the help of Wall Street to remain successful. And as I knew from my own Wall Street experience, if you wanted to do business with financial institutions, you had to prove to them you didn't need their services, our own castle would certainly make that perception a reality in their minds. A castle became our goal. It's critically important here to understand that my goal was indeed our goal. Without total, unquestioning support from your spouse, Quantum growth is next to impossible. But we'll get to that discussion later. By the following Thanksgiving, we were shopping for cas- tles in the United Kingdom.

During this period, business co- incidently brought me to London a few times, giving us more opportunities to browse the castle market. One June morning in , we drove through the ancient stone gates of Guthrie Castle, located in the Tayside Region of Central Scotland about five miles from the rocky cliffs of the North Sea. Guthrie, dating from the 's, is a room manor home, complete with turrets and a great stone tower.

At its top, open parapets, built for defense against other clans or medieval marauders, look out across a forested countryside. Endless corridors and high-ceilinged rooms almost echo the booted steps of five centuries of Guthries—and a ghost maiden who appears periodically. Adding to its appeal, Guthrie is surrounded by acres of rolling estate, icy streams and a crystal loch. Perfect for my own hole gold course, I thought. We made our first offer within days.

After negotiations, we made our final offer in August, which was accepted. The interior had been stripped of very stick of furniture and decoration. Even the fireplace mantles had been yanked out for auction to pay taxes. The castle was destined to be razed had we not bought it. It took Linda and I a year living in chaos to rewire, replump, reroof, renovate, refurnish and dec- orate the place in time for my 40th Birthday Party in August, Linda made a lot of area antique dealers and decorators very wealthy during that yearlong buying spree! Her support, which was so vital, was so solid throughout this experience as the great gray stones of the castle itself.

As far as the island the cream castle would occupy, Linda pointed out that Guthrie, our castle, our shared goal, indeed stood on an island—the island of Great Britain! It occurred to me how far I had come during my first 40 years. From a Latino punk in the hard streets of an urban barrio … to the laird of my own castle in the peaceful Scottish countryside. Here, secluded in a such timeless surroundings, I could ride my Arabians or just walk the grounds in the crisp northern air, renewing my strength and spirit. Do business the way it's usally done— if you're satisfied making the usual money the way the usual morons do. Conventional wisdom—not religion—is the opium of the people. It is injected into our brains from birth by our parents, our teachers, our gabby neighbors and anybody else who as- cribes to leading a safe, anonymous and respectable life.

And dying forgotten. Conventional wisdom stifles the risk taking required for bold, creative action. It anesthetizes the mind with mindless platitudes. Conventional wisdom is the scripture of mediocrity—for- tune cookie proverbs that make losers feel better about them- selves. Whey risk it on some crazy idea. Better safe than sorry. In case you missed the point, I hate conventional wisdom. And if you're going to make your own Quantum Leap to super success, you'd better learn to hate it too. And purge it from your mind as if you'd stuck an enema tube in your ear! Because conventional wisdom is almost always wrong!

Visionaries have always flown in the face of conventional wis- dom. Ford, you can't make a V-8 engine. All my life I've had people tell me, "Dan, you can't do that. And you can't do it in a collapsing market. And you sure as hell can't do it the middle of the worst energy de- pression in fifty years! Another phrase I detest is "common sense". Common sense is an excuse for mental laziness. Common sense is the biggest alibi of all for screw-ups caused by using conventional wisdom. If we were all born, raised and educated under identical circumstances, what sense we had would cer- tainly be held in common.

But the fact is, we're all from diverse backgrounds, and imprinted with a rich diversity of experienc- es. So how the hell can we suppose we all have common sense? There is no "common sense! In this chapter, while I continue the Great Western story, you'll see how I constantly flew in the face of conventional wisdom. We'll also begin discussing my Seven Steps for Super Success, and how to create your personal foundation to build that success. Before you can create and run a super successful com- pany, you have to re-create yourself. You have cleanse your mind of years of conventional wisdom, and in the void that's left build a personal foundation based on all New Rules.

The first New Rules is an old one: there are no rules. Rules by definition are limiters … walls beyond which you don't al- low yourself to venture. Rules, even your own, put you into a self-imposed box with four sides. To become super successful, you've got to think outside the box. Your own mind is your greatest limiter. There's where all the "You can't do that" crap you hear will gather to smother your creativity and cloud your vision.

If you're my age, you remember when the four-minute mile was "impossible. The very next month, Australian John Landy did it in Soon a growing list of runners were conquering the "impossible" four- minute mile. Beyond challenge of time and distance, however, was the destruction of the mental barrier that cleared the way to conquest. This story has powerful implications for anyone aiming for super success. Often the "impossible" in business is a feat that hasn't been attempted. It takes guts to move beyond the known into the unknown.

One of the legends of Asia was a Russian hotelier named Boris Lissanevitch. Trained in his youth as a ballet dancer, he escaped Russia during the Bolshevik Revolution and became a world-class dance performer. While touring the cities of the Orient, he fell under the spell of Asia, settled in Calcutta to run a restaurant, and in decided to open the first hotel in the Kingdom of Nepal. His friends in India advised him it would be impossible. After all, they pointed out, his landlocked Himala- yan nation was still stuck in the 15th Century.

It was the mythi- cal Shangri La, tucked beneath the world's highest mountain range with no telephones, and access to the outside world only by perilous air travel ending on a rough grassy "runway" out- side Kathmandu. With no roads leading in or out of the king- dom, only automobile in Nepal belonged to King Tribhuvan. Boris was not to be deterred. He bought a rambling, rundown medieval palace. He brought the second car into the country overland through the jungle from northern In- dia using porters, disassembling it into dozens of parts, and reassembling it on arrival in Kathmandu. From Calcutta, he ordered modern plumbing fixtures, power generators, refrig- eration units, furnishings and all the other trimmings to turn a dilapidated palace into a first-class tourist hotel.

Since Nep- alese cuisine consists of rice soup and curry as Hindus they eat no meat nor drink liquor , Boris also had to air freight in all food and drink. It simply can't be done, they continued to sniff back in India. Host to royalty and celebrity guests for decades, it is splendid testimony to the sheer guts of the late Boris Lissan- evitch, regarded as the father of tourism in Nepal. It take guts to lead the charge … and guts to change. Sup- pose you've got a good business deal clinched, and the pos- sibility of a better one comes along. All around you, conven- tional wisdom chirps, "Don't blow this.

Remember, a bird in the hand …" It takes guts to ignore the advice of the tip-toers and meek-minded, and go for the better deal. If you've got a good product that's selling well, it takes guts to throw it out to introduce an even better product. I don't often pay attention to what others think—espe- cially morons. In the box office hit Evita, the title character sings, "It doesn't matter what the morons say …" My definition of a moron or a doofus "doo-fus" is anybody whose advice or attitude would limit my success potential. Morons are ev- erywhere.

They work with you, they commute with you, go to your health club, live next door, and are even in your family. They've limited their thinking and would feel much more com- fortable if you'd limit yours too. You probably even pay for conventional wisdom. Even worse, you pay this furrow-browed bean counter, not to be creative, but to shake his finger in your face on behalf of the government say, "You can't do that. You also risk the danger of retaining an attorney whose conventional wisdom is focused on what you cannot do.

This guy sure isn't going to clear you a path to pursue your objec- tive; he's more afraid you'll take an unconventional step that'll make his job harder. Over the course of my career, I've listened to the advice of scores of attorneys and accountants. I respect their knowl- edge. Some have been my partners. But with few exceptions I know they are conventional people dosing out conventional counsel on how to tiptoe even when my strongest instincts and inclinations tell me it's time to stampede … time to kick ass! Morons and doofuses travel in other guises too—Stock- holders, bankers, the press and, thankfully, the competition.

All that conventional wisdom can make a lot of noise if you're behaving unconventionally. That's why, when you operate un- der New Rules, you don't give a damn if you repeatedly embar- rass yourself. By the way, in the beginning this isn't easy. One pearl of conventional wisdom reminds us that we don't want to embarrass ourselves by failing at anything. You just keep saying to yourself , "it doesn't matter what the morons say. New Rules also requires new habits and new companions. Two of the most dynamic business people I know are George and Deann Verdier. They were already successful when they attended my Castle Experience in I hold this high- ly concentrated weeklong seminar several times a year at my.

It is limited to six couples, and has launched more than a few Quantum Leaps in recent years. The Verdiers listened when I said that the friends they had been socializing with might not be suitable companions during their drive for super success. I was right. Deann and George returned to the castle for another "dose of Dan" in the spring of They reported that their old friends and acquaintances had sort of dropped them.

I have always made practice of hanging around individu- als who were more successful than me. When I was just getting started, I joined a country club in Los Angeles I could hardly afford, so I could enjoy expensive golf and free advice from men decades older than me. At a glance, most of them looked like the typical old farts in baggy shorts, but they were retired CEO's and other top executives, men with fascinating success stories who loved giving a young buck like me the benefit of their experience.

On the course, and especially over a cold beer at the 19th, I absorbed a lot from these guys. They know what New Rules meant—and had built their success scoffing at con- ventional wisdom. New habits begin with developing the habit of decision- making. I've said I've made more than 55, decisions in my life. I've didn't say they were 55, correct decisions. But I acted decisively based on the available information and gut in- stinct I had.

And I certainly didn't depend on pure logic. Logic doesn't consider the illogical actions of illogical humans. But worse, logic is a cut-and-dried mental process that reinforces conventional wisdom. Let's talk about "important" decisions. You may have seen the movie Sophie's Choice. The choice that the lead character, played by Meryl Streep, had to make was between saving the life of her son or her daughter. Now that's a decision. But for day-to-day business, it's a good way to put decision-making in perspective.

It's just not a life-or-death thing. You may lose some money. You may expe- rience some inconvenience. Your mooch "friends" may scoff. But so what! The most so-called important decision you can make doesn't cause a ripple in the cosmos of time. The earth won't tremble in its orbit if you screw it up. And, unless you're a brain surgeon or a cardiologist doing a bypass operation, no- body is going to die based on what you decide. The next time you find yourself agonizing over a business decision, ask your- self, "is this a "Sophie's Choice? Another new habit is to listen to legitimate warnings.

Who can give you a legitimate warning? Somebody who's been there. If you're about to go out and find capital to finance your business, listen to somebody who's already borrowed capital. If you're about to take on a partner, listen to his or her past partners. Listen to experience—not excrement! And don't lis- ten to some seminar bum who's never run a legitimate busi- ness in his life.

Or if he has, it was a pushcart to nowhere. Your personal foundation must include a New Rule about risk. We've talked about risk earlier. Conventional wisdom says, "Be careful. Think of it this way—you're not tak- ing a chance—you're giving yourself a chance! You risk may even be a bit crazy. Most big risks in this world were called crazy—sailing off west to find India … try- ing to make a heavier-than-air machine actually fly … putting a man on the moon … So be crazy.

Just know the difference between taking a crazy risk and a stupid one. And go for it with confidence. As I've said for years, "I may be wrong—but I'm never in doubt. Tax shelters in those days were a dime a dozen, so we had to make each one of ours be perceived to be bigger and better than the last. Our office in Palos Verdes, California, was continually ex- panding, so that by early , we occupied square feet of space with only six employees. These plush, spacious offices gave investors the perception of a large prosperous firm. Us- ing funds from our third tax shelter, we agreed to drill 24 wells In the D-J Basin. Then we decided to take the deal public. Then with Great Western's fourth drilling fund venture, we raised another million dollars.

Other people's money was about to make as all rich. With two partners, whom I'll discuss later, I had pur- chased a small company in the United Kingdom in late '83, so I had become somewhat familiar with British business and financial practices. For several reasons, we decided to take Great Western public not on Wall Street, but in the venerable halls of "the City," London's financial heart of the Empire. This proved to be a historic decision, because no one had ever taken an option public in the United Kingdom.

So why the U. We had practical reasons, of course. Our offering would have been too small to attract interest in the U. But these are not normal times. You may re- call that around , Wall Street was aflame with junk bonds and LBO's generating fees in the tens of millions of dollars. Fees for bankers, stockholders, accountants and attorneys in the U. Interest in the oil market itself was at different levels on opposite sides of the Atlantic. While the U. Finally, the regulations applying to such a public offering, especially by a natural resource company, where not as strin- gent in the U.

By avoiding Wall Street, we wouldn't have to put up with a lot of bullshit requirements by the Securities and Exchange Commission. But one important reason we went to London, which you won't find in any finance textbooks, is the nature of the people. What pussycats! We decided to go public on my 39th birthday, August 10, All the available investment dollars will head for Jaguar, a great British insti- tution being sold off by the government. Next day's headline in a London newspaper, referring to Jaguar, read, "Great Western Resources, the One That Really Roared" The paper characterized my impact on the market by concluding, " … as the most controversial businessman ever to set foot in London in the Eighties was off and running.

Was all this risky stuff? You bet it was! Could we have fallen on our butts? The secret is, aside from some astute salesmanship of possible oil-and-gas returns in god-for- saken Colorado, we focused on the ends—not the means. We thought big and moved fast. And were absolutely confident that we could outmaneuver and outsmart on our dullest, dumbest day any stiff-upper-lipped, bowler-headed Brit in the City. So we did. We acted as if we had no limits to our abilities, which is one of my Five Credos for Super Success we'll discuss in the next chapter. Another Credo relates "enthusiasm. Listen, I don't expect you to fly to London tomorrow and duplicate our achievement in the City? What about your own company? Your own dream? What about those pock-faced bankers down the street with the imaginations of mudhens?

What about inves- tors looking for great stock in a company that would look like yours? In order to remove Other People's Money from Other People's Pockets to build your dream, you have to build a gold-leafed perception of value around your company. We'll talk more about that later under Exit Strategies. Let's talk about what Michael E. Gerber calls the "entre- preneurial personality. While the man- ager writes business plans and maintains order and the tech- nician tinkers with the day-to-day work and drives employees nuts, the entrepreneurial personality leaps beyond the pres- ent to dream the dreams and focus on the vision of where the.

The entrepreneur is impatient with the present. He's through with it. It's been handled. The entrepreneur clearly sees opportunities which are beyond the sight of his more myopic counterparts. And he un- derstands that he must control both people and events in or- der to seize those opportunities. Gerber says that the entrepre- neur who is absorbed in his vision is also impatient with those around him—his associates, his friends, his family, even his other two personalities—because not only can they not see the vision and become exited by it, their persistent foot-dragging is keeping him, the eager entrepreneur, from moving quicker toward capturing that vision and making it his own.

As an individual pursuing super success, then, you have to keep your sights above the rush and worries of today, and free of the nitpicking details which will be required to realize your vision. In other words, building your personal founda- tion includes the newfound ability to focus on the ends—not the means. When you keep your attention focused on what an excit- ing, successful future waits you, a strange phenomenon oc- curs. You begin to transport yourself into that future. As you keep your eye on your goal, and the question ceases to be if you can get there; it quickly becomes just a logical one of how. You assume success. You visualize success as if it were already a reality. This truth isn't confined to great and noble dreams ei- ther.

A few years ago, USA Today did a management survey about daydreaming. It was based on anonymous responses, of course, but that's a good reason to put stock in the results. The questions ranged from "Have you day-dreamed about get- ting your boss's job? Now think about that. If a random sample of managers can achieve that kind of success rate with idle daydreams, what are your changes of success when you focus on your vision until it becomes an obsession? We're not necessarily talking about visualizing years into the future either. The salesman who has already visualized a successful sale before he walks into a customer's office is al- ready concentrating on how the sale will be made.

Objections will become temporary barriers to leap around. Every "no" he gets becomes a "yes" the prospect just hasn't spoken yet. We can even visualize success occurring in the next min- ute. You've seen it happen in every sport. The incredible putt on the 18th green. The home run in the Ninth. It's 20 seconds to the final whistle of the Super Bowl. A quarterback dodges on- rushing tons of defensive linemen, spots a receiver downfield, and then threads a football through waving arms and crashing bodies to hit that receiver for the winning touchdown. Aside from years of practicing for success, he has already vi- sualized the completed pass. It was a done deal before the ball left his fingertips.

Hell, maybe it's only a mental trick. Who cares? I'm tell- ing you it works over and over and has for centuries. Because the high performance individual is impatient to get to the future, he's not afraid to take action. He'd rather do it right away—instead of doing is absolutely right. Eisenhower launched D-Day knowing full well. But he played the best cards he had. He actually wrote an apology note and tucked it into this pocket to read to the world should the Allies get pushed off the beaches of Normandy into the sea. During World War II, arguably the best field general in this century, George Patton, kept his sights on Berlin and blew tank shells through anything that got in his way.

He was im- patient with the meticulous planning and plodding of other generals. He said, "A good plan executed right now is better then a perfect plan executed next week. So there we were sitting on millions. Meanwhile, our drill- er adjourned to the fabulous D-J Basin, where our illustrious engineers and geologists, had told us that without a doubt there should be millions of barrels of oil under this wasteland.

They drilled a hole. It wasn't dry, but it wasn't what it should've been. They drilled a dozen more. Nothing to speak of. Our high-priced experts then reported that virtually the only gas and oil in the area was what they had brought with them in their trucks. Or in the hair of our British advisors. Ac- tually, we might continue to strike oil, but not in the quantities we would need to take a company public.

We had the money to drill another wells. But, I thought, for what? It was at this point I called for a halt in drilling operations. I had long thought that internal growth, through operating profits, would not give the company the exponential quantum success of external expansion. Even with moderate success, we could watch revenues ease up gradually. Or we could acquire growth, and watch our growth curve shoot straight up. We needed to bump revenue. That's because the name of the game in business is revenue. Lots of revenue. You can control expenses and cut costs all you want and you'll realize nickel-and-dime improvements in profitability. In recent years, companies as large as IBM, West- inghouse and General Motors have been busy "downsizing" or "rightsizing" to cut salary costs.

They've instituted stringent cost controls, just-in-time inventory controls and TQM—all to become more efficient and profitable. But these are desperate, eleventh hour measures put in place because companies can't generate revenue. Sometimes seemingly very smart executives can get over- ly excited about tiny profit gains. I once heard the CEO of a box company in California brag, actually brag to a seminar au- dience about the 1. I was next on the agenda.

I stood up and said something to the effect that if that was the best profit he could muster, he needed to take his gold watch and retire. As it later turned out, he got the short end of the stick when his company merged with another firm. Wonder why. So, seeking high revenues that our operations couldn't create, and instead of being content to run Great Western de- fensively, I took up an aggressive offense. It was a hell of a mid- course correction. We began looking for companies we could acquire, so that we could grow laterally in the oil business. This search had to begin quickly, so that the financial performance of our non-oil-producing drilling operations wouldn't clutter our financial statements.

Talking about quick, decisive action is a good place to bring up an element not often discussed in Business Admin class—passion. High performance, super successful people are passionate about their business, obsessed with its rising rev- enues and rapid growth. Like myself, these executives don't play not to lose. They play to win. There's a big difference. Even successful business people who make it big often begin to play not to lose. They lose their nerve because they're not sure if their first win was an accident of luck or timing. They're afraid they can't repeat that success, so they fold fetally into defensive mode to just hang on to what they've made. That's not passion—that's just shutting your eyes, ducking your head and hoping you survive.

But the truth is, they're already dead. I call that, "sitting on your assets! Donald Trump, on the other hand, keeps winning and winning, because he has a consuming passion for developing real estate mega-deals, and the confidence in himself to know that he can keep winning and winning. Hey says, in fact, "As long as you have to think you might as well think big. It takes the same amount of energy. The wellspring of passion varies with the individual. Some successful people, such as Trump, are passionate about developing joint venture, or setting the standard for high per- formance achievement in a given industry.

I take particular delight in growing a company by Quantum Leaps, then selling it at the very zenith of its performance for tons of money. I don't care what kind of company it is as long as I believe from all available evidence that is has the potential to skyrocket in value. At any given time, I may own equity in a textile company, an auditing firm, a real estate organization—it doesn't matter as long as it's legal. A few years ago, I had some Co- lombian businessman come to the castle and offer me millions to make their cartel operate more efficiently.

I was flattered, but I politely declined. The source of your individual passion stems from your own personality. But whether you love dealing in the manu- facture of hard goods, or buying and selling real estate, or the prospect of striking oil in a remote, windswept field, you'd bet- ter be driven by the relentless fire of hot passion. Passion comes with a caveat, of course. Paula Nelson agrees in her book, Guide to Getting Rich, that "passion equals profit," but warns exited entrepreneurs not to invest in a per- sonal fancy simply because they happen to love it.

If you're enthralled with the idea of property in Northern Canada, she says, buy a lot build a cabin if you want, but don't expect to turn acres of frozen wilderness into a profitable venture. When you're passionate about you business, I becomes your mistress. You think about it day and night. You think about it when you're at home, when you're traveling, when you're lying in bed at night, hell even while you're making love. You have to give up other pursuits, hobbies and pleasures because your business beckons like a seductress. You have to leave your family to entertain themselves, drop friends who don't understand you passion, forget to eat, forget to home. If you drink, you keep a bottle at the office.

When you remem- ber to eat, you order in. If you work out, you install Nautilus in a spare office. If your mind wanders, and you dare to think about time off, your business comes back to reprove you for even a moment of infidelity. Passion is required because being a super success is full-time job. There's never been a part-time high performer. Some of those seminar gurus and infomercial morons will say you can do this or that part-time and be a success.

Work whenever you feel like it, and grow wealthy. That's bullshit! Sure, you can make a few extra thousand by hounding old ladies to sell you their mortgage, or setting up a number or some other trendy scam. But I'm talking about millions. And wealth in the millions require a full-time, laser beam-focused commitment. Remember what I said—super success isn't for everyone. But it is for the very few who are willing to build that founda- tion, make those sacrifices and create major sea changes in the currents of their thinking. The quickest way to begin your quest for super success is—to take action. Make a decision you've been putting off. Don't let it ride another day. Like the TV ad says, "Just do it!

Or in the hair of Was George Justified In Killing Lennie Research Paper British advisors. Believing the grade—a mere B—put his Was George Justified In Killing Lennie Research Paper in jeopardy, Jason took a butcher knife to school and, in a confrontation with Pologruto grave encounters true story Was George Justified In Killing Lennie Research Paper physics lab, stabbed his teacher in the collarbone before being subdued in a struggle. But because we're so pre-conditioned, and so fearful of failure, we stand there each time telling ourselves to let the doorway close, rationalizing our inability to take Was George Justified In Killing Lennie Research Paper.

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