“It is the simplest phrase you can imagine,” Favreau said, “three monosyllabic words that people say to each other every day.” But the speech etched itself in rhetorical lore. It inspired music videos and memes and the full range of reactions that any blockbuster receives online today, from praise to out-of-context humor to arch mockery. Obama’s “Yes, we can” refrain is an example of a rhetorical device known as epistrophe, or the repetition of words at the end of a sentence. It’s one of many famous rhetorical types, most with Greek names, based on some form of repetition. There is anaphora, which is repetition at the beginning of a sentence (Winston Churchill: “We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields”). There is tricolon, which is repetition in short triplicate (Abraham Lincoln: “Government of the people, by the people, and for the people”). There is epizeuxis, which is the same word repeated over and over (Nancy Pelosi: “Just remember these four words for what this legislation means: jobs, jobs, jobs, and jobs”). There is diacope, which is the repetition of a word or phrase with a brief interruption (Franklin D. Roosevelt: “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself”) or, most simply, an A-B-A structure (Sarah Palin: “Drill baby drill!”). There is antithesis, which is repetition of clause structures to juxtapose contrasting ideas (Charles Dickens: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”). There is parallelism, which is repetition of sentence structure (the paragraph you just read). Finally, there is the king of all modern speech-making tricks, antimetabole, which is rhetorical inversion: “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight; it’s the size of the fight in the dog.” There are several reasons why antimetabole is so popular. First, it’s just complex enough to disguise the fact that it’s formulaic. Second, it’s useful for highlighting an argument by drawing a clear contrast. Third, it’s quite poppy, in the Swedish songwriting sense, building a hook around two elements—A and B—and inverting them to give listeners immediate gratification and meaning. The classic structure of antimetabole is AB;BA, which is easy to remember since it spells out the name of a certain Swedish band.18 Famous ABBA examples in politics include: “Man is not the creature of circumstances. Circumstances are the creatures of men.” —Benjamin Disraeli “East and West do not mistrust each other because we are armed; we are armed because we mistrust each other.” —Ronald Reagan “The world faces a very different Russia than it did in 1991. Like all countries, Russia also faces a very different world.” —Bill Clinton “Whether we bring our enemies to justice or bring justice to our enemies, justice will be done.” —George W. Bush “Human rights are women’s rights and women’s rights are human rights.” —Hillary Clinton In particular, President John F. Kennedy made ABBA famous (and ABBA made John F. Kennedy famous). “Mankind must put an end to war, or war will put an end to mankind,” he said, and “Each increase of tension has produced an increase of arms; each increase of arms has produced an increase of tension,” and most famously, “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.” Antimetabole is like the C–G–Am–F chord progression in Western pop music: When you learn it somewhere, you hear it everywhere.19 Difficult and even controversial ideas are transformed, through ABBA, into something like musical hooks.”
―
Derek Thompson,
Hit Makers: Why Things Become Popular
“On the TV screen in Harry's is The Patty Winters Show, which is now on in the afternoon and is up against Geraldo Rivera, Phil Donahue and Oprah Winfrey. Today's topic is Does Economic Success Equal Happiness? The answer, in Harry's this afternoon, is a roar of resounding "Definitely," followed by much hooting, the guys all cheering together in a friendly way. On the screen now are scenes from President Bush's inauguration early this year, then a speech from former President Reagan, while Patty delivers a hard-to-hear commentary. Soon a tiresome debate forms over whether he's lying or not, even though we don't, can't, hear the words. The first and really only one to complain is Price, who, though I think he's bothered by something else, uses this opportunity to vent his frustration, looks inappropriately stunned, asks, "How can he lie like that? How can he pull that shit?""Oh Christ," I moan. "What shit? Now where do we have reservations at? I mean I'm not really hungry but I would like to have reservations somewhere. How about 220?" An afterthought: "McDermott, how did that rate in the new Zagat's?""No way," Farrell complains before Craig can answer. "The coke I scored there last time was cut with so much laxative I actually had to take a shit in M.K.""Yeah, yeah, life sucks and then you die.""Low point of the night," Farrell mutters."Weren't you with Kyria the last time you were there?" Goodrich asks. "Wasn't that the low point?""She caught me on call waiting. What could I do?" Farrell shrugs. "I apologize.""Caught him on call waiting." McDermott nudges me, dubious."Shut up, McDermott," Farrell says, snapping Craig's suspenders. "Date a beggar.""You forgot something, Farrell," Preston mentions. "McDermott is a beggar.""How's Courtney?" Farrell asks Craig, leering."Just say no." Someone laughs.Price looks away from the television screen, then at Craig, and he tries to hide his displeasure by asking me, waving at the TV, "I don't believe it. He looks so... normal. He seems so... out of it. So... un dangerous.""Bimbo, bimbo," someone says. "Bypass, bypass.""He is totally harmless, you geek. Was totally harmless. Just like you are totally harmless. But he did do all that shit and you have failed to get us into 150, so, you know, what can I say?" McDermott shrugs."I just don't get how someone, anyone, can appear that way yet be involved in such total shit," Price says, ignoring Craig, averting his eyes from Farrell. He takes out a cigar and studies it sadly. To me it still looks like there's a smudge on Price's forehead."Because Nancy was right behind him?" Farrell guesses, looking up from the Quotrek. "Because Nancy did it?""How can you be so fucking, I don't know, cool about it?" Price, to whom something really eerie has obviously happened, sounds genuinely perplexed. Rumor has it that he was in rehab.” ― Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho
“It was Christmas Eve. Big snowflakes fluttered slowly through the air like white feathers and made all of the Heavenly Valley smooth and white and quiet and beautiful.Tall fir trees stood up to their knees in snow and their outstretched hands were heaped with it. Those that were bare of leaves wore soft white fur on their scrawny, reaching arms and all the stumps and low bushes had been turned into fat white cupcakes.” ― Betty MacDonald, Nancy and Plum
“Dwayne eyed the Szechuan noodles suspiciously and actually sniffed the container of chicken, arugula, corn and rice.” ― Nancy Bush, Ultraviolet
“from her purse. “We have to follow that car!” “But not too close,” Nancy replied. “We’d make them suspicious.” The girls waited three minutes before backing out into the main highway and then turning into the adjacent road. Though the automobile ahead had disappeared, tire prints were plainly visible. The road twisted through a stretch of wood-land. When finally the tire prints turned off into a heavily wooded narrow lane, Nancy was sure they were not far from the cabin. She parked among some trees and they went forward on foot. “There it is!” whispered Nancy, recognizing the chimney. “Bess, I want you to take my car, drive to River Heights, and look up the name of the owner of the car we just saw. Here’s the license number. “After you’ve been to the Motor Vehicle Bureau, please phone Mrs. Putney’s house. If she answers, we’ll know it wasn’t she we saw in the car. Then get hold of Dad or Ned, and bring one of them here as fast as you can. We may need help. Got it straight?” “I—I—g-guess so,” Bess answered. “Hurry back! No telling what may happen while you’re away.” The two watched as Nancy’s car rounded a bend and was lost to view. Then Nancy and George walked swiftly through the woods toward the cabin. Approaching the building, Nancy and George were amazed to find that no car was parked on the road in front. “How do you figure it?” George whispered as the girls crouched behind bushes. “We certainly saw tire marks leading into this road!” “Yes, but the car that passed may have gone on without stopping. Possibly the driver saw us and changed her plans. Wait here, and watch the cabin while I check the tire marks out at the” ― Carolyn Keene, The Ghost of Blackwood Hall
“The purpose of such propaganda phrases as "war on terrorism" and attacking "those who hate freedom" is to paralyze individual thought as well as to condition people to act as one mass, as when President Bush attempted to end debate on Iraq by claiming that the American people were of one voice. The modern war president removes the individual nature of those who live in it by forcing us into a uniform state where the complexities of those we fight are erased. The enemy-terrorism, Iraq, Bin Laden, Hussein-becomes one threatening category, something to be defeated and destroyed, so that the public response will be one of reaction to fear and threat rather than creatively and independently thinking for oneself. Our best hope for overcoming perpetual thinking about war and perpetual fear about both real and imagined threats is to question our leaders and their use of empty slogans that offer little rationale, explanation or historical context.” ― Nancy Snow, Information War: American Propaganda, Free Speech, and Opinion Control Since 9/11
“The phone rang. It was a familiar voice.It was Alan Greenspan. Paul O'Neill had tried to stay in touch with people who had served under Gerald Ford, and he'd been reasonably conscientious about it. Alan Greenspan was the exception. In his case, the effort was constant and purposeful. When Greenspan was the chairman of Ford's Council of Economic Advisers, and O'Neill was number two at OMB, they had become a kind of team. Never social so much. They never talked about families or outside interests. It was all about ideas: Medicare financing or block grants - a concept that O'Neill basically invented to balance federal power and local autonomy - or what was really happening in the economy. It became clear that they thought well together. President Ford used to have them talk about various issues while he listened. After a while, each knew how the other's mind worked, the way married couples do.In the past fifteen years, they'd made a point of meeting every few months. It could be in New York, or Washington, or Pittsburgh. They talked about everything, just as always. Greenspan, O'Neill told a friend, "doesn't have many people who don't want something from him, who will talk straight to him. So that's what we do together - straight talk."O'Neill felt some straight talk coming in."Paul, I'll be blunt. We really need you down here," Greenspan said. "There is a real chance to make lasting changes. We could be a team at the key moment, to do the things we've always talked about."The jocular tone was gone. This was a serious discussion. They digressed into some things they'd "always talked about," especially reforming Medicare and Social Security. For Paul and Alan, the possibility of such bold reinventions bordered on fantasy, but fantasy made real."We have an extraordinary opportunity," Alan said. Paul noticed that he seemed oddly anxious. "Paul, your presence will be an enormous asset in the creation of sensible policy."Sensible policy. This was akin to prayer from Greenspan. O'Neill, not expecting such conviction from his old friend, said little. After a while, he just thanked Alan. He said he always respected his counsel. He said he was thinking hard about it, and he'd call as soon as he decided what to do.The receiver returned to its cradle. He thought about Greenspan. They were young men together in the capital. Alan stayed, became the most noteworthy Federal Reserve Bank chairman in modern history and, arguably the most powerful public official of the past two decades. O'Neill left, led a corporate army, made a fortune, and learned lessons - about how to think and act, about the importance of outcomes - that you can't ever learn in a government.But, he supposed, he'd missed some things. There were always trade-offs. Talking to Alan reminded him of that. Alan and his wife, Andrea Mitchell, White House correspondent for NBC news, lived a fine life. They weren't wealthy like Paul and Nancy. But Alan led a life of highest purpose, a life guided by inquiry.Paul O'Neill picked up the telephone receiver, punched the keypad."It's me," he said, always his opening.He started going into the details of his trip to New York from Washington, but he's not much of a phone talker - Nancy knew that - and the small talk trailed off."I think I'm going to have to do this."She was quiet. "You know what I think," she said.She knew him too well, maybe. How bullheaded he can be, once he decides what's right. How he had loved these last few years as a sovereign, his own man. How badly he was suited to politics, as it was being played. And then there was that other problem: she'd almost always been right about what was best for him."Whatever, Paul. I'm behind you. If you don't do this, I guess you'll always regret it."But it was clearly about what he wanted, what he needed.Paul thanked her. Though somehow a thank-you didn't seem appropriate.And then he realized she was crying.” ― Ron Suskind, The Price of Loyalty: George W. Bush, the White House, and the Education of Paul O'Neill
“He shook his head no and said, “It is now among us.” Roark also pressed him on the limits of the program, and Hayden suggested that the only real limit had been imposed by Rep. Nancy Pelosi in exchange for going along with the program and maintaining her silence about it. Hayden told Roark that “Pelosi had repeatedly warned him not to go beyond the CT [counterterrorism] target, and for now they were adhering to that.” In other words, the Bush administration and NSA eventually wanted to use the domestic spying program for purposes that had nothing to do with the global war on terror.” ― James Risen, Pay Any Price: Greed, Power, and Endless War
“She married my” ― Nancy Bush, I'll Find You
“When Johnson birthed the NEA and the NEH, the budgets were tiny. (The NEH began life in 1966 with an appropriation of $5.9 million, and the NEA $2.9 million.) Under Richard Nixon, both budgets increased exponentially, and two of the NEA’s strongest leaders were Republican appointees: Nancy Hanks, who served under Nixon and Gerald Ford, and Gioia, who served under George W. Bush.” ― The Washington Post, The Great Society: 50 Years Later
“We want you to succeed," the younger Bush told Obama. "Whether we're Democrat or Republican, we all care deeply about this country...All of us who have served in this office understands that the office transcends the individual.” ― Nancy Gibbs; Michael Duffy, The Presidents Club: Inside the World's Most Exclusive Fraternity
“The evening was gloomy. As the car approached the river, dark storm clouds scudded across the sky. “There’s the house—beyond this pine grove. Turn here,” Mr. March directed. He was in the front seat of the convertible. “It’s called Pleasant Hedges.” The name hardly suited the estate, for the hedges were untrimmed and entangled with weeds and small stray bushes. Long grass and weeds covered the lawn. Several tall pine trees stood near the house. The wind whispered dismally through the swaying boughs. “It’s spooky,” Bess said in a hushed voice to George, who was next to her in the rear seat.” ― Carolyn Keene, The Secret in the Old Attic
“As the German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer once said—as quoted by Della more often than Liv cared to count—“Talent hits a target no one else can hit; Genius hits a target no one else can see.” ― Nancy Bush, Nowhere to Run
“In the winter of 1990-1991, she made seven visits to shelters for the homeless. Some met her with aggressive questions comparing her living situation with theirs. She listened attentively. She appeared to be comfortable in all situations.When Barbara Bush, wife of President George Bush, visited in London, Diana took her to Middlesex Hospital to visit AIDS patients. One patient asked Diana why she spent time with suffering people. She answered, “Anywhere I see suffering, that is where I want to be, doing what I can.”She also visited Broadmoor, a maximum-security prison. She talked with some inmates in groups and with some in their cells. “Living with the royal family is an ideal preparation for going to Broadmoor,” she joked.” ― Nancy Whitelaw, Lady Diana Spencer: Princess of Wales
“Nancy and Helen changed into pastel cotton dresses, put away the few belongings they had brought, then headed for the inn. As they walked across the lawn, they passed gardeners who were pruning trees and cultivating flower beds edged with pansies. “It’s perfectly beautiful here,” Helen remarked. The girls went to the front of the inn, a two-story clapboard building with a one-level wing on either side. All around it were lilac trees and other flowering bushes. Nancy and Helen mounted the wide steps and entered the center hall. Its paneled walls, old staircase, and beautiful cut-glass chandelier made them feel as though they had stepped back into an earlier century.” ― Carolyn Keene, The Mystery at Lilac Inn
“A couple of large leaf rakes were on the porch. “I have an idea,” Nancy said. By pushing the rakes in front of them up and down the yard, the girls would spot the hidden trap before either of them fell into it. Unfortunately, the yard was pretty big. They hadn’t covered much ground when they heard a car. It was pulling into the twins’ driveway! Bree and Nancy dropped the rakes and scrammed. They ran through the lilac bushes in between the twins’ house and Mrs. DeVine’s. They dashed across Mrs. DeVine’s yard, wiggled through the hedge that separated her yard from Nancy’s, and hid inside Headquarters. Whew! That was a close call. But they were safe! They collapsed into the beanbag chairs. “You really think there’s a booby trap?” Bree asked. She sounded doubtful now. “More and more, I’m sure of it. We need to search that whole yard. But let’s sneak back under cover of darkness.” That meant at night but sounded way more dangerous. They’d have to use flashlights. There’d be spooky night noises. Nancy could picture it all! “We’re not allowed out after dark,” Bree pointed out. Nancy knew that. She just didn’t want to be reminded of it. Not right now. It was more fun picturing the two of them sneaking around in the dark. Nancy sighed. It was awfully difficult to be a glamorous detective when your bedtime was eight thirty.” ― Jane O'Connor, Nancy Clancy, Super Sleuth
“The great drama of history is the tug of war between God and humanity. On one hand, God reaches out to humanity to make himself known. On the other hand, humans desperately seek to avoid knowing him. In the words of theologian Thomas K. Johnson, we “can take the account of Adam and Eve hiding from God behind a bush or tree as a metaphor for the history of the human race.” 18” ― Nancy R. Pearcey, Finding Truth: 5 Principles for Unmasking Atheism, Secularism, and Other God Substitutes
“I tend to instantly regret every serious new responsibility I take on. I always want to take it back.” ― Nancy Bush, Candy Apple Red
“Pero en efecto recuerdo que donó su salario para una fundación. TP: El problema es que nadie le dijo que no podía tener legalmente dos salarios y mucho menos que podía donar parte de su salario porque tenía dos familias, dos casas que mantener con cuatro hijos. A partir de allí ya supe que nunca irían a restituir la transparencia perdida en los gobiernos de Leoni y Caldera I. Todos dan por asumido que la Casa de Gobierno debe pagarle todo a los presidentes cuando no es cierto, el presidente es un funcionario público que debe pagar por el mantenimiento de su familia y sus gastos como jefe de hogar y la Primera Dama debe trabajar para costearse sus gastos o ayudar a los gastos de la familia. CE: Eso es muy difícil de entender en Latinoamérica. Pocos saben que el presidente Obama tenía que pagarse las comidas, el jabón y la pasta de dientes como cualquier trabajador estadounidense. Por supuesto que no va al auto mercado a comprarlo, pero eso se le deduce del salario. TP: Y también la primera dama. Para actos oficiales por ejemplo Michelle Obama podía aceptar ropa de diseñadores que les interesaba proyectarse y eran aceptados como donaciones en nombre del gobierno, es decir no se los podía quedar después, tenían que ir al Archivo Nacional. CE: Laura Bush en su biografía explicaba que le impresionó lo meticulosa que era la factura mensual de la Casa Blanca por sus gastos de peluquería y cuanto tenía que pagar de su bolsillo por el servicio de limpieza y camareros en sus reuniones particulares. TP: A Nancy Reagan le criticaron mucho que usaba vestidos que tenían diez años y luego que pidiera prestados vestidos y así se queja en su biografía, mientras que Hillary Clinton causó problemas por haberle pedido a un empresario chino que ayudara a cancelar sus deudas por haber gastado ochenta mil dólares en fiestas de navidad[1] y ese dinero se lo debía a la Casa Blanca, de hecho, Bill Clinton salió endeudado de su presidencia. CE: Eso es lo que había en los primeros tres gobiernos de la era democrática que después se distorsionó, recuerdo que hicimos una entrevista a la familia de Leoni, que no pudo hacerle una fiesta de quince años a su hija como ellos querían porque no le alcanzaba su sueldo, pues su sueldo de presidente tenía que vivir. TP: Lógicamente la ropa del presidente, sus gastos de representación y las comidas para actos públicos, salen del bolsillo de los contribuyentes como ocurre en muchos lugares incluso de Latinoamérica, y se puede discutir mucho sobre los límites y alcances, pero Chávez llegó a donar un salario que no podía donar legalmente, cuando tenía dos familias que mantener.” ― Thays Peñalver, La Conspiración de los 12 golpes: Cuarta Edición Ampliada
“On the TV screen in Harry's is The Patty Winters Show, which is now on in the afternoon and is up against Geraldo Rivera, Phil Donahue and Oprah Winfrey. Today's topic is Does Economic Success Equal Happiness? The answer, in Harry's this afternoon, is a roar of resounding "Definitely," followed by much hooting, the guys all cheering together in a friendly way. On the screen now are scenes from President Bush's inauguration early this year, then a speech from former President Reagan, while Patty delivers a hard-to-hear commentary. Soon a tiresome debate forms over whether he's lying or not, even though we don't, can't, hear the words. The first and really only one to complain is Price, who, though I think he's bothered by something else, uses this opportunity to vent his frustration, looks inappropriately stunned, asks, "How can he lie like that? How can he pull that shit?""Oh Christ," I moan. "What shit? Now where do we have reservations at? I mean I'm not really hungry but I would like to have reservations somewhere. How about 220?" An afterthought: "McDermott, how did that rate in the new Zagat's?""No way," Farrell complains before Craig can answer. "The coke I scored there last time was cut with so much laxative I actually had to take a shit in M.K.""Yeah, yeah, life sucks and then you die.""Low point of the night," Farrell mutters."Weren't you with Kyria the last time you were there?" Goodrich asks. "Wasn't that the low point?""She caught me on call waiting. What could I do?" Farrell shrugs. "I apologize.""Caught him on call waiting." McDermott nudges me, dubious."Shut up, McDermott," Farrell says, snapping Craig's suspenders. "Date a beggar.""You forgot something, Farrell," Preston mentions. "McDermott is a beggar.""How's Courtney?" Farrell asks Craig, leering."Just say no." Someone laughs.Price looks away from the television screen, then at Craig, and he tries to hide his displeasure by asking me, waving at the TV, "I don't believe it. He looks so... normal. He seems so... out of it. So... un dangerous.""Bimbo, bimbo," someone says. "Bypass, bypass.""He is totally harmless, you geek. Was totally harmless. Just like you are totally harmless. But he did do all that shit and you have failed to get us into 150, so, you know, what can I say?" McDermott shrugs."I just don't get how someone, anyone, can appear that way yet be involved in such total shit," Price says, ignoring Craig, averting his eyes from Farrell. He takes out a cigar and studies it sadly. To me it still looks like there's a smudge on Price's forehead."Because Nancy was right behind him?" Farrell guesses, looking up from the Quotrek. "Because Nancy did it?""How can you be so fucking, I don't know, cool about it?" Price, to whom something really eerie has obviously happened, sounds genuinely perplexed. Rumor has it that he was in rehab.” ― Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho
“It was Christmas Eve. Big snowflakes fluttered slowly through the air like white feathers and made all of the Heavenly Valley smooth and white and quiet and beautiful.Tall fir trees stood up to their knees in snow and their outstretched hands were heaped with it. Those that were bare of leaves wore soft white fur on their scrawny, reaching arms and all the stumps and low bushes had been turned into fat white cupcakes.” ― Betty MacDonald, Nancy and Plum
“Dwayne eyed the Szechuan noodles suspiciously and actually sniffed the container of chicken, arugula, corn and rice.” ― Nancy Bush, Ultraviolet
“from her purse. “We have to follow that car!” “But not too close,” Nancy replied. “We’d make them suspicious.” The girls waited three minutes before backing out into the main highway and then turning into the adjacent road. Though the automobile ahead had disappeared, tire prints were plainly visible. The road twisted through a stretch of wood-land. When finally the tire prints turned off into a heavily wooded narrow lane, Nancy was sure they were not far from the cabin. She parked among some trees and they went forward on foot. “There it is!” whispered Nancy, recognizing the chimney. “Bess, I want you to take my car, drive to River Heights, and look up the name of the owner of the car we just saw. Here’s the license number. “After you’ve been to the Motor Vehicle Bureau, please phone Mrs. Putney’s house. If she answers, we’ll know it wasn’t she we saw in the car. Then get hold of Dad or Ned, and bring one of them here as fast as you can. We may need help. Got it straight?” “I—I—g-guess so,” Bess answered. “Hurry back! No telling what may happen while you’re away.” The two watched as Nancy’s car rounded a bend and was lost to view. Then Nancy and George walked swiftly through the woods toward the cabin. Approaching the building, Nancy and George were amazed to find that no car was parked on the road in front. “How do you figure it?” George whispered as the girls crouched behind bushes. “We certainly saw tire marks leading into this road!” “Yes, but the car that passed may have gone on without stopping. Possibly the driver saw us and changed her plans. Wait here, and watch the cabin while I check the tire marks out at the” ― Carolyn Keene, The Ghost of Blackwood Hall
“The purpose of such propaganda phrases as "war on terrorism" and attacking "those who hate freedom" is to paralyze individual thought as well as to condition people to act as one mass, as when President Bush attempted to end debate on Iraq by claiming that the American people were of one voice. The modern war president removes the individual nature of those who live in it by forcing us into a uniform state where the complexities of those we fight are erased. The enemy-terrorism, Iraq, Bin Laden, Hussein-becomes one threatening category, something to be defeated and destroyed, so that the public response will be one of reaction to fear and threat rather than creatively and independently thinking for oneself. Our best hope for overcoming perpetual thinking about war and perpetual fear about both real and imagined threats is to question our leaders and their use of empty slogans that offer little rationale, explanation or historical context.” ― Nancy Snow, Information War: American Propaganda, Free Speech, and Opinion Control Since 9/11
“The phone rang. It was a familiar voice.It was Alan Greenspan. Paul O'Neill had tried to stay in touch with people who had served under Gerald Ford, and he'd been reasonably conscientious about it. Alan Greenspan was the exception. In his case, the effort was constant and purposeful. When Greenspan was the chairman of Ford's Council of Economic Advisers, and O'Neill was number two at OMB, they had become a kind of team. Never social so much. They never talked about families or outside interests. It was all about ideas: Medicare financing or block grants - a concept that O'Neill basically invented to balance federal power and local autonomy - or what was really happening in the economy. It became clear that they thought well together. President Ford used to have them talk about various issues while he listened. After a while, each knew how the other's mind worked, the way married couples do.In the past fifteen years, they'd made a point of meeting every few months. It could be in New York, or Washington, or Pittsburgh. They talked about everything, just as always. Greenspan, O'Neill told a friend, "doesn't have many people who don't want something from him, who will talk straight to him. So that's what we do together - straight talk."O'Neill felt some straight talk coming in."Paul, I'll be blunt. We really need you down here," Greenspan said. "There is a real chance to make lasting changes. We could be a team at the key moment, to do the things we've always talked about."The jocular tone was gone. This was a serious discussion. They digressed into some things they'd "always talked about," especially reforming Medicare and Social Security. For Paul and Alan, the possibility of such bold reinventions bordered on fantasy, but fantasy made real."We have an extraordinary opportunity," Alan said. Paul noticed that he seemed oddly anxious. "Paul, your presence will be an enormous asset in the creation of sensible policy."Sensible policy. This was akin to prayer from Greenspan. O'Neill, not expecting such conviction from his old friend, said little. After a while, he just thanked Alan. He said he always respected his counsel. He said he was thinking hard about it, and he'd call as soon as he decided what to do.The receiver returned to its cradle. He thought about Greenspan. They were young men together in the capital. Alan stayed, became the most noteworthy Federal Reserve Bank chairman in modern history and, arguably the most powerful public official of the past two decades. O'Neill left, led a corporate army, made a fortune, and learned lessons - about how to think and act, about the importance of outcomes - that you can't ever learn in a government.But, he supposed, he'd missed some things. There were always trade-offs. Talking to Alan reminded him of that. Alan and his wife, Andrea Mitchell, White House correspondent for NBC news, lived a fine life. They weren't wealthy like Paul and Nancy. But Alan led a life of highest purpose, a life guided by inquiry.Paul O'Neill picked up the telephone receiver, punched the keypad."It's me," he said, always his opening.He started going into the details of his trip to New York from Washington, but he's not much of a phone talker - Nancy knew that - and the small talk trailed off."I think I'm going to have to do this."She was quiet. "You know what I think," she said.She knew him too well, maybe. How bullheaded he can be, once he decides what's right. How he had loved these last few years as a sovereign, his own man. How badly he was suited to politics, as it was being played. And then there was that other problem: she'd almost always been right about what was best for him."Whatever, Paul. I'm behind you. If you don't do this, I guess you'll always regret it."But it was clearly about what he wanted, what he needed.Paul thanked her. Though somehow a thank-you didn't seem appropriate.And then he realized she was crying.” ― Ron Suskind, The Price of Loyalty: George W. Bush, the White House, and the Education of Paul O'Neill
“He shook his head no and said, “It is now among us.” Roark also pressed him on the limits of the program, and Hayden suggested that the only real limit had been imposed by Rep. Nancy Pelosi in exchange for going along with the program and maintaining her silence about it. Hayden told Roark that “Pelosi had repeatedly warned him not to go beyond the CT [counterterrorism] target, and for now they were adhering to that.” In other words, the Bush administration and NSA eventually wanted to use the domestic spying program for purposes that had nothing to do with the global war on terror.” ― James Risen, Pay Any Price: Greed, Power, and Endless War
“She married my” ― Nancy Bush, I'll Find You
“When Johnson birthed the NEA and the NEH, the budgets were tiny. (The NEH began life in 1966 with an appropriation of $5.9 million, and the NEA $2.9 million.) Under Richard Nixon, both budgets increased exponentially, and two of the NEA’s strongest leaders were Republican appointees: Nancy Hanks, who served under Nixon and Gerald Ford, and Gioia, who served under George W. Bush.” ― The Washington Post, The Great Society: 50 Years Later
“We want you to succeed," the younger Bush told Obama. "Whether we're Democrat or Republican, we all care deeply about this country...All of us who have served in this office understands that the office transcends the individual.” ― Nancy Gibbs; Michael Duffy, The Presidents Club: Inside the World's Most Exclusive Fraternity
“The evening was gloomy. As the car approached the river, dark storm clouds scudded across the sky. “There’s the house—beyond this pine grove. Turn here,” Mr. March directed. He was in the front seat of the convertible. “It’s called Pleasant Hedges.” The name hardly suited the estate, for the hedges were untrimmed and entangled with weeds and small stray bushes. Long grass and weeds covered the lawn. Several tall pine trees stood near the house. The wind whispered dismally through the swaying boughs. “It’s spooky,” Bess said in a hushed voice to George, who was next to her in the rear seat.” ― Carolyn Keene, The Secret in the Old Attic
“As the German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer once said—as quoted by Della more often than Liv cared to count—“Talent hits a target no one else can hit; Genius hits a target no one else can see.” ― Nancy Bush, Nowhere to Run
“In the winter of 1990-1991, she made seven visits to shelters for the homeless. Some met her with aggressive questions comparing her living situation with theirs. She listened attentively. She appeared to be comfortable in all situations.When Barbara Bush, wife of President George Bush, visited in London, Diana took her to Middlesex Hospital to visit AIDS patients. One patient asked Diana why she spent time with suffering people. She answered, “Anywhere I see suffering, that is where I want to be, doing what I can.”She also visited Broadmoor, a maximum-security prison. She talked with some inmates in groups and with some in their cells. “Living with the royal family is an ideal preparation for going to Broadmoor,” she joked.” ― Nancy Whitelaw, Lady Diana Spencer: Princess of Wales
“Nancy and Helen changed into pastel cotton dresses, put away the few belongings they had brought, then headed for the inn. As they walked across the lawn, they passed gardeners who were pruning trees and cultivating flower beds edged with pansies. “It’s perfectly beautiful here,” Helen remarked. The girls went to the front of the inn, a two-story clapboard building with a one-level wing on either side. All around it were lilac trees and other flowering bushes. Nancy and Helen mounted the wide steps and entered the center hall. Its paneled walls, old staircase, and beautiful cut-glass chandelier made them feel as though they had stepped back into an earlier century.” ― Carolyn Keene, The Mystery at Lilac Inn
“A couple of large leaf rakes were on the porch. “I have an idea,” Nancy said. By pushing the rakes in front of them up and down the yard, the girls would spot the hidden trap before either of them fell into it. Unfortunately, the yard was pretty big. They hadn’t covered much ground when they heard a car. It was pulling into the twins’ driveway! Bree and Nancy dropped the rakes and scrammed. They ran through the lilac bushes in between the twins’ house and Mrs. DeVine’s. They dashed across Mrs. DeVine’s yard, wiggled through the hedge that separated her yard from Nancy’s, and hid inside Headquarters. Whew! That was a close call. But they were safe! They collapsed into the beanbag chairs. “You really think there’s a booby trap?” Bree asked. She sounded doubtful now. “More and more, I’m sure of it. We need to search that whole yard. But let’s sneak back under cover of darkness.” That meant at night but sounded way more dangerous. They’d have to use flashlights. There’d be spooky night noises. Nancy could picture it all! “We’re not allowed out after dark,” Bree pointed out. Nancy knew that. She just didn’t want to be reminded of it. Not right now. It was more fun picturing the two of them sneaking around in the dark. Nancy sighed. It was awfully difficult to be a glamorous detective when your bedtime was eight thirty.” ― Jane O'Connor, Nancy Clancy, Super Sleuth
“The great drama of history is the tug of war between God and humanity. On one hand, God reaches out to humanity to make himself known. On the other hand, humans desperately seek to avoid knowing him. In the words of theologian Thomas K. Johnson, we “can take the account of Adam and Eve hiding from God behind a bush or tree as a metaphor for the history of the human race.” 18” ― Nancy R. Pearcey, Finding Truth: 5 Principles for Unmasking Atheism, Secularism, and Other God Substitutes
“I tend to instantly regret every serious new responsibility I take on. I always want to take it back.” ― Nancy Bush, Candy Apple Red
“Pero en efecto recuerdo que donó su salario para una fundación. TP: El problema es que nadie le dijo que no podía tener legalmente dos salarios y mucho menos que podía donar parte de su salario porque tenía dos familias, dos casas que mantener con cuatro hijos. A partir de allí ya supe que nunca irían a restituir la transparencia perdida en los gobiernos de Leoni y Caldera I. Todos dan por asumido que la Casa de Gobierno debe pagarle todo a los presidentes cuando no es cierto, el presidente es un funcionario público que debe pagar por el mantenimiento de su familia y sus gastos como jefe de hogar y la Primera Dama debe trabajar para costearse sus gastos o ayudar a los gastos de la familia. CE: Eso es muy difícil de entender en Latinoamérica. Pocos saben que el presidente Obama tenía que pagarse las comidas, el jabón y la pasta de dientes como cualquier trabajador estadounidense. Por supuesto que no va al auto mercado a comprarlo, pero eso se le deduce del salario. TP: Y también la primera dama. Para actos oficiales por ejemplo Michelle Obama podía aceptar ropa de diseñadores que les interesaba proyectarse y eran aceptados como donaciones en nombre del gobierno, es decir no se los podía quedar después, tenían que ir al Archivo Nacional. CE: Laura Bush en su biografía explicaba que le impresionó lo meticulosa que era la factura mensual de la Casa Blanca por sus gastos de peluquería y cuanto tenía que pagar de su bolsillo por el servicio de limpieza y camareros en sus reuniones particulares. TP: A Nancy Reagan le criticaron mucho que usaba vestidos que tenían diez años y luego que pidiera prestados vestidos y así se queja en su biografía, mientras que Hillary Clinton causó problemas por haberle pedido a un empresario chino que ayudara a cancelar sus deudas por haber gastado ochenta mil dólares en fiestas de navidad[1] y ese dinero se lo debía a la Casa Blanca, de hecho, Bill Clinton salió endeudado de su presidencia. CE: Eso es lo que había en los primeros tres gobiernos de la era democrática que después se distorsionó, recuerdo que hicimos una entrevista a la familia de Leoni, que no pudo hacerle una fiesta de quince años a su hija como ellos querían porque no le alcanzaba su sueldo, pues su sueldo de presidente tenía que vivir. TP: Lógicamente la ropa del presidente, sus gastos de representación y las comidas para actos públicos, salen del bolsillo de los contribuyentes como ocurre en muchos lugares incluso de Latinoamérica, y se puede discutir mucho sobre los límites y alcances, pero Chávez llegó a donar un salario que no podía donar legalmente, cuando tenía dos familias que mantener.” ― Thays Peñalver, La Conspiración de los 12 golpes: Cuarta Edición Ampliada
