We cannot live being obsessed with what other people think about us. It's impossible to live like that. Not even God managed to please the entire world.

In every aspect of my life, I live under the protection of and in accordance to the laws of this nation. At the end of the day, it's a wildlife biological fact and a conservation fact that the game must be managed. There's only so much habitat, i.e. food, out there.

I have managed to stay fit all thanks to my habits. I train regularly and have maintained great fitness habits.

To be a programmer is to develop a carefully managed relationship with error. There's no getting around it. You either make your accommodations with failure, or the work will become intolerable.

Though dams and artificial lakes can have significant negative environmental impacts, when carefully considered, mitigated, and managed, the benefits of hydropower often outweigh these costs.

Prince was outside his dressing room, shaking one of those little Easter egg maracas. His hair was straightened to a soft wave; his eyelashes were unfairly lovely. He smelled like the most expensive shelf in the Sephora perfume aisle. This man wearing eyeliner, heels and ladies' perfume somehow managed to be more masculine than the burly bodyguard.

Every fighter, when they box, wants to leave a mark in their sport, or a legacy, and I managed to do that beyond my wildest dreams.

I did a very stupid diet where you have three food groups, and you never eat them together. It's so bloody tedious; I'm losing the will to live just describing it. I managed to stay very thin because you spent your life wandering around starving hungry looking for a chickpea to go with a chicken leg.

I call the blockchain 'the Internet of value' and 'the Internet of trust.' Because everything becomes trustless. It's a big distributed ledger. Think of it like an Excel file that's being maintained and updated and managed by millions of computers around the world.

I would work until I got stuck, and I would put it down and pick up something else. I might be able to take a 20-minute nap and get to work again. That way, I was able to work about 10 hours a day... It was important to me to work every day. I managed to work on Christmas day, just to be able to say I worked 365 days a year.

My father Bill had a problem with Christmas. Although he appears in old photographs to possess a whippy, muscular frame, he was actually a frail man and usually managed to cause some kind of drama just before the festivities began.

All of Africa's resources should be declared resources of the state and managed by the nation. Our experience in Bolivia shows that when you take control of natural resources for the people of the town and village, major world change is possible.

What's happening in crypto - and certainly what's happening at Ripple - we have an opportunity to fundamentally change the way global commerce is managed from a payments point of view.

If we choose to walk into a forest where a tiger lives, we are taking a chance. If we swim in a river where crocodiles live, we are taking a chance. If we visit the desert or climb a mountain or enter a swamp where snakes have managed to survive, we are taking a chance.

Time is the scarcest resource and unless it is managed nothing else can be managed.

I was one of six children, brought up by my mother in Swindon after my father died. We had all we needed - food on the table, clothes to wear. When I wanted a drum kit, my mother got me one. When I got into playing guitar, I came down one Christmas or birthday and there was a guitar for me. It amazes me how Mum managed to do it.

My family is mostly a chosen one. I've managed to invite some really amazing people into my life and they become family. Brothers, sisters, siblings, mentors, role models. And I like to live that way, where your family bleeds out into the larger community.

I didn't plan on either children or writing. Once I realized that writing satisfied me in some enormous way, I had to make adjustments. The writing was always marginal in terms of time when the children were small. But it was major in terms of my head. I always thought that women could do a lot of things. All the women I knew did nine or ten things at one time. I always understood that women worked, they went to church, they managed their houses, they managed somebody else's houses, they raised their children, they raised somebody else's children, they taught. I wouldn't say it's not hard, but why wouldn't it be? All important things are hard.

A man once asked me ... how I managed in my books to write such natural conversation between men when they were by themselves. Was I, by any chance, a member of a large, mixed family with a lot of male friends? I replied that, on the contrary, I was an only child and had practically never seen or spoken to any men of my own age till I was about twenty-five. "Well," said the man, "I shouldn't have expected a woman (meaning me) to have been able to make it so convincing." I replied that I had coped with this difficult problem by making my men talk, as far as possible, like ordinary human beings. This aspect of the matter seemed to surprise the other speaker; he said no more, but took it away to chew it over. One of these days it may quite likely occur to him that women, as well as men, when left to themselves, talk very much like human beings also.

I've managed to stay alive out here in the Ruin because I'm a realist. I allow the truth to be the truth, no matter how much I might want it to be something else.

Regardless of how black the page, he had always managed to turn it and move on to a new chapter in his life.

No. In my eyes, she was most beautiful because at a time when she had every right to be terrified, she managed to show comfort to another person who needed it.

Life's managed, not cured.

I do feel that I've managed to make something I could maybe call my world?over time?little by little. And when I'm inside it, to some extent, I feel kind of relieved. But the very fact I felt I had to make such a world probably means that I'm a weak person, that I bruise easily, don't you think? And in the eyes of society at large, that world of mine is a puny little thing. It's like a cardboard house: a puff of wind might carry it off somewhere.