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Few people knew that some of the most startling scientific advances in the last twenty years had come from people who couldn’t wipe themselves.
Eddie, like most with Asperger profiles, experienced a complete range of feelings, but had considerable difficulty identifying or discussing them.
Perhaps one day someone would invent such an app—someone on the high-functioning end of the spectrum, diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome. One of the group that Hans Asperger first labeled in 1944 as “little professors.”
Among the surveillance expert’s key takeaways was how rarely Skylar let her guard down. She deftly managed to keep her lover at a safe emotional distance. Barnes chalked it up to her ambition. She was married to her career. Anyone involved with her would never be more than a mistress. In his generation, this was something only men did. Now, of course, it was a whole different deal. Which fascinated Barnes. In fact, he’d privately started to think of Skylar as the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.
“The two most important kinds of work I’ve done fall into two categories: the best shit, and the worst shit.
The best shit gets you jobs like the one I have and people to say nice things about you, and might even make you famous, but it doesn’t help you grow. Not as a person. Not as an artist. Not as anything.
But the worst shit does. The stuff that you bust your ass on and truly suffer for that turns out to be absolute crap. Because it’s how you respond—whether you can handle the criticism, and what you learn from it—that will determine whether you have a future communicating s...
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Veuve Clicquot
