takkery

Apple’s Face ID will support only one registered face per iPhone at launch

2017-11-16T19:00:13+09:00

Face ID supporting just one face makes a lot of sense on the face of things (sorry), since unlike with Touch ID, users have only one face to use for their unlocking purposes. Touch ID ostensibly allows multiple fingers to be registered because you have quite a few digits of your own, and depending on how you’re using the device or in which pocket you keep it, one might be more convenient to use than another.

The issue is that people also often register the fingerprints of their significant others, or even kids, depending on how they use their device. The phone can store up to five fingerprints, which makes it relatively easy to keep a few of your own as well as those of a significant other on your device just in case.

A one phone, one face policy obviously won’t support that kind of arrangement: If you want to give your loved one access, you’ll need to smile for the camera, or share a backup passcode so they can get in that way. The passcode option is only marginally more inconvenient than a registered Touch ID fingerprint, of course, but it still makes a difference, especially if someone’s only very occasionally accessing your device and might not have committed a pin to muscle memory as a result.

I think this is more of an issue if Apple ends up moving Face ID across its product line, to devices like iPads that are much more often shared gadgets. Still, depending on how your use your phone, it might be another decided factor in whether you go with iPhone 8 or iPhone X – or, of course, neither.

usurpers remain in the field

2017-07-06T12:21:13+09:00

Why should they pick him over a dozen more senior men?” “Because,” his father said, in a tone that suggested Tyrion was quite the simpleton, “if they do not vote as they are told, their Wall will melt before it sees another man.” Yes, that would work. Tyrion hitched forward. “Janos Slynt is the wrong man, Father. We’d do better with the commander of the Shadow Tower. Or Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.” “The commander of the Shadow Tower is a Mallister of Seagard. Eastwatch is held by an ironman.” Neither would serve his purposes, Lord Tywin’s tone said clear enough. “Janos Slynt is a butcher’s son,”

Tyrion reminded his father forcefully. “You yourself told me” “I recall what I told you. Castle Black is not Harrenhal, however. The Night’s Watch is not the king’s council. There is a tool for every task, and a task for every tool.” Tyrion’s anger flashed. “Lord Janos is a hollow suit of armor who will sell himself to the highest bidder.” “I count that a point in his favor. Who is like to bid higher than us?” He turned to Pycelle. “Send a raven. Write that King Joffrey was deeply saddened to hear of Lord Commander Mormont’s death, but regrets that he can spare no men just now, whilst so many rebels and . Suggest that matters might be quite different once the throne is secure... provided the king has full confidence in the leadership of the Watch. In closing, ask Marsh to pass along His Grace’s fondest regards to his faithful friend and servant... Lord Janos Slynt.” “Yes, my lord.” Pycelle bobbed his withered head once more. “I shall write as the Hand commands. With great pleasure.” I should have trimmed his head, not his beard, Tyrion reflected. And Slynt should have gone for a swim with his dear friend Allar Deem. At least he had not made the same foolish mistake with Symon Silver Tongue. See there, Father? he wanted to shout. See how fast I learn my lessons?
SAMWELL
Up in the loft a woman was giving birth noisily, while below a man lay dying by the fire. Samwell Tarly could not say which frightened him more. They’d covered poor Barmen with a pile of furs and stoked the fire high, yet all he could say was, “I’m cold. Please. I’m so cold.” Sam was trying to feed him onion broth, but he could not swallow. The broth dribbled over his lips and down his chin as fast as Sam could spoon it in. “That one’s dead.” Craster eyed the man with indifference as he worried at a sausage. “Be kinder to stick a knife in his chest than that spoon down his throat, you ask me.” “I don’t recall as we did.” Giant was no more than five feet tall - his true name was Bedwyck - but a fierce little man for all that. “Slayer, did you ask Craster for his counsel?” Sam cringed at the name, but shook his head. He filled another spoon, brought it to Barmen’s mouth, and tried to ease it between his lips. “Food and fire,” Giant was saying, “that was all we asked of you. And you grudge us the food.”

handsome parchment

2017-06-22T11:40:28+09:00

Davos was reminded of Patchface, Princess Shireen’s lackwit fool. He had gone into the sea as well, and when he came out he was mad. Am I mad as well? He coughed into a gloved hand and said, “I swam beneath the chain and washed ashore on a spear of the merling king. I would have died there, if Shayala’s Dance had not come upon me.” Salladhor Saan threw an arm around the captain’s shoulders. “This was well done, Khorane.

You will be having a fine reward, I am thinking. Meizo Mahr, be a good eunuch and take my friend Davos to the owner’s cabin. Fetch him some hot wine with cloves, I am misliking the sound of that cough. Squeeze some lime in it as well. And bring white cheese and a bowl of those cracked green olives we counted earlier! Davos, I will join you soon, once I have bespoken our good captain. You will be forgiving me, I know. Do not eat all the olives, or I must be cross with you!” Davos let the elder of the two eunuchs escort him to a large and lavishly furnished cabin at the stem of the ship. The carpets were deep, the windows stained glass, and any of the great leather chairs would have seated three of Davos quite comfortably. The cheese and olives arrived shortly, and a cup of steaming hot red wine. He held it between his hands and sipped it gratefully. The warmth felt soothing as it spread through his chest. Salladhor Saan appeared not long after. “You must be forgiving me for the wine, my friend. These Pentoshi would drink their own water if it were purple.” “It will help my chest,” said Davos jobs in macau. “Hot wine is better than a compress, my mother used to say.”

“You shall be needing compresses as well, I am thinking. Sitting on a spear all this long time, oh my. How are you finding that excellent chair? He has fat cheeks, does he not?” “Who?” asked Davos, between sips of hot wine. “Illyrio Mopatis. A whale with whiskers, I am telling you truly. These chairs were built to his measure, though he is seldom bestirring himself from Pentos to sit in them. A fat man always sits comfortably, I am thinking, for he takes his pillow with him wherever he goes.” “How is it you come by a Pentoshi ship?” asked Davos. “Have you gone pirate again, my lord?” He set his empty cup aside. “Vile calumny. Who has suffered more from pirates than Salladhor Saan? I ask only what is due me. Much gold is owed, oh yes, but I am not without reason, so in place of coin I have taken a , very crisp. It bears the name and seal of Lord Alester Florent, the Hand of the King reenex.

I am made Lord of Blackwater Bay, and no vessel may be crossing my lordly waters without my lordly leave, no. And when these outlaws are trying to steal past me in the night to avoid my lawful duties and customs, why, they are no better than smugglers, so I am well within my rights to seize them.” The old pirate laughed. “I cut off no man’s fingers, though. What good are bits of fingers? The ships I am taking, the cargoes, a few ransoms, nothing unreasonable.” He gave Davos a sharp look. “You are unwell, my friend. That cough... and so thin, I am seeing your bones through your skin. And yet I am not seeing your little bag of fingerbones...” Old habit made Davos reach for the leather pouch that was no longer there. “I lost it in the river.” My luck. “The river was terrible,” Salladhor Saan said solemnly reenex.

spent hislife in making a manuscript

2017-06-06T11:52:05+09:00

'I had come out without a necktie; and there I was, spoutingmy lines to the three Graces, as DECOLLETE as a struttingturkey cock.'
The only other allusion to poetry or literature that nightwas a story I told him of a Mr. Thomas Wrightson, a Yorkshirebanker, and a fanatical Swedenborgian. Tommy Wrightson, whowas one of the most amiable and benevolent of men, transcript of Swedenborg's works.
His writing was a marvel of calligraphic art; he himself, acuriosity. Swedenborg was for him an avatar; but if he haddoubted of Tennyson's ultimate apotheosis, I think he wouldhave elected to seek him in 'the other place.' Anyhow, Mr human resources jobs.
Wrightson avowed to me that he repeated 'Locksley Hall' everymorning of his life before breakfast. This I told Tennyson.
His answer was a grunt; and in a voice from his boots, 'Ugh!
enough to make a dog sick!' I did my utmost to console himwith the assurance that, to the best of my belief, Mr.
Wrightson had once fallen through a skylight.
As illustrating the characters of the admired and hisadmirer, it may be related that the latter, wishing for thepoet's sign-manual, wrote and asked him for it. He addressedTennyson, whom he had never seen, as 'My dear Alfred.' Thereply, which he showed to me, was addressed 'My dear Tom.'
Chapter 36
MY stepfather, Mr. Ellice, having been in two Ministries -Lord Grey's in 1830, and Lord Melbourne's in 1834 - hadnecessarily a large parliamentary acquaintance; and as Icould always dine at his house in Arlington Street when Ipleased, I had constant opportunities of meeting most of theprominent Whig politicians, and many other eminent men of theday. One of the dinner parties remains fresh in my memory -not because of the distinguished men who happened to bethere, but because of the statesman whose name has sincebecome so familiar to the world.
Some important question was before the House in which Mr Hong Kong shopping.
Ellice was interested, and upon which he intended to speak.
This made him late for dinner, but he had sent word that hisson was to take his place, and the guests were not to wait.
When he came Lord John Russell greeted him with -'Well, Ellice, who's up?'

sitting there alone on the bough

2017-05-19T11:40:40+09:00

"I saw a little girl weeping，"said the Moon："she was weeping over the depravity of the world．She had re- ceived a most beautiful doll as a present．Oh，that was a glorious doll，so fair and delicate！She did not seem creat- ed for the sorrows of this world．But the brothers of the lit- tle girl，those great naughty boys，had set the doll high up in the branches of a tree，and had run．
"The little girl could not reach up to the doll，and could not help her down，and that is why she was crying．
The doll must certainly have been crying too，for she stretched out her arms among the green branches，and looked quite mournful．Yes，these are the troubles of life of which the little girl had often heard tell．Alas，poor doll！It began to grow dark already；and night would soon come on！Was she to be left all night long？No，the little maid could not make up her mind to that．'I'll stay with you，'she said，al- though she felt anything but happy in her mind．She could almost fancy distinctly saw little gnomes，with their high-crowned hats，sitting in the bushes；and farther back in the long walk，tall spectres appeared to be dancing．
They came nearer and nearer，and stretched out their hands towards the tree on which the doll sat；they laughed scorn- fully，and pointed at her with their fingers．Oh，how frightened the little maid was！'But if one has not done anything wrong Office Furniture，'she thought，'nothing evil can harm one．
I wonder if I have done anything wrong？'And she consid- ered．'Oh，yes！I laughed at the poor duck with the red rag on her leg；she limped along so funnily，I could not help laughing；but it's a sin to laugh at animal．'And she looked up at the doll．'Did you laugh at animals？'she asked；and it seemed as if the doll shook her head．"

TWENTY-THIRD EVENING

"I will now give you a picture from Frankfort，"
said the Moon．"I especially noticed one RMB exchange rate building there．
It was not the house in which Goethe was born，nor the old council house，through whose greated windows peered the horns of the oxen that were roasted and given to the people when the Emperors were crowned．No，it was a pri－ vate house，plain in appearance，and paited green．It stood at the corner of the narrow Jews'Street．It was Roth－ schild's house．

to persuade her that he was defending

2017-04-27T11:51:37+09:00

As I finished this prayer, a well-sustained fire was heard in the midst of the camp. This occurred many times during the day and following night. It was only a trick of M. Pericles. In order the better to deceive Mrs. Simons and her against an army of bandits, he had ordered that volleys should be fired from time to time.

This pretty conceit came near costing him dear. When the brigands arrived in camp, at dawn, on Monday morning, they believed SmarTonethat a fight was going on with a true enemy, and they began to fire some balls, which, unfortunately, touched no one.

I had never seen a defeated army when I assisted at the return of the King of the Mountains. The sight had, for me, all the novelty of a first experience. Heaven had listened unfavorably to my prayers. The Greek soldiers had defended themselves with so much ardor that the engagement was prolonged till night. Formed in a square around the two mules which carried the treasure, they had, at first, returned a regular fire upon Hadgi-Stavros’ sharp-shooters. The old Palikar, despairing of killing one by one, a hundred and twenty men who would not give an inch, attacked them with bare blades. His men dermes assured us that he had performed marvels, and the blood with which he was covered testified to it. But the bayonet had had the last word; in other words, had won the day. The troops had killed forty brigands, of which one was a dog. A regulation bullet had arrested the advancement of young Spiro, that young officer with so brilliant a future. I saw march in sixty men, overcome with fatigue, dusty, bloody, bruised, and wounded. Sophocles had been shot in the shoulder; the men were carrying him. The Corfuan and a few others had been left on the road, some with the shepherds, some in a village, and others on the bare rocks beside the path.

The band was sad and discouraged. Sophocles howled with nu skin hong konggrief. I heard some murmurs against the King’s imprudence, who had exposed the lives of his men for a miserable sum, instead of peaceably plundering rich and careless travelers.

ground that she had married privately

2017-04-03T11:50:33+09:00

He shone very well in this latter office. He was a wise and humane judge, and he clearly did his honest best and fairest, -- according to his lights. That is a large reservation. His lights -- I mean his rearing -often colored his decisions. Whenever there was a dispute between a noble or gentleman and a person of lower degree, the king's leanings and sympathies were for the former class always, whether he suspected it or not. It was impossible that this should be otherwise. The blunting effects of slavery upon the slaveholder's moral perceptions are known and conceded, the world over; and a privileged class, an aristocracy, is but a band of slaveholders under another name. This has a harsh sound, and yet should not be offensive to any -even to the noble himself -- unless the fact itself be an offense: for the statement simply formulates a fact. The repulsive feature of slavery is the THING, not its name. One needs but to hear an aristocrat speak of the classes that are below him to recognize -- and in but indifferently modified measure -- the very air and tone of the actual slaveholder; and behind these are the slaveholder's spirit, the slaveholder's blunted feeling. They are the result of the same cause in both cases: the possessor's Neo skin labold and inbred custom of regarding himself as a superior being. The king's judgments wrought frequent injustices, but it was merely the fault of his training, his natural and unalterable sympathies. He was as unfitted for a judgeship as would be the average mother for the position of milkdistributor to starving children in famine-time; her own children would fare a shade better than the rest.
One very curious case came before the king. A young girl, an orphan, who had a considerable estate, married a fine young fellow who had nothing. The girl's property was within a seigniory held by the Church. The bishop of the diocese, an arrogant scion of the great nobility, claimed the girl's estate on the and thus had cheated the Church out of one of its rights as lord of the seigniory -- the one heretofore referred to as le droit du seigneur. The penalty of refusal or avoidance was confiscation. The girl's defense was, that the lordship of the seigniory was vested in the bishop, and the particular right here involved was not transferable, but must be exercised by the lord himself or stand vacated; and that an older law, of the Church itself, strictly barred the bishop from exercising it. It was a very odd case, indeed.
It reminded me of something I had read travel tourism news in my youth about the ingenious way in which the aldermen of London raised the money that built the Mansion House. A person who had not taken the Sacrament according to the Anglican rite could not stand as a candidate for sheriff of London. Thus Dissenters were ineligible; they could not run if asked, they could not serve if elected. The aldermen, who without any question were Yankees in disguise, hit upon this neat device: they passed a by-law imposing a fine of L400 upon any one who should refuse to be a candidate for sheriff, and a fine of L600 upon any person who, after being elected sheriff, refused to serve. Then they went to work and elected a lot of Dissenters, one after another, and kept it up until they had collected L15,000 in fines; and there stands the stately Mansion House to this day, to keep the blushing citizen in mind of a long past and lamented day when a band of Yankees slipped into London and played games of the sort that has given their race a unique and shady reputation among all truly good and holy peoples that be in the earth.
The girl's case seemed strong to me; the bishop's case was just as strong. I did not see how the king was going to get out of this hole. But he got out. I append his decision:

would not rightly interpret them

2017-03-23T12:13:35+09:00

As I feel now, it seems impossible."
She had quickly observed his depressed, abstracted manner, but misinterpreted the causes. Her own face clouded and grew troubled. Perhaps she was revealing too much of her heart, although seeking to disguise it so sedulously, and he was penetrating her motives for doing so much in the garden and in luring him thither now. He was not showing much practical interest in beans and beets, and was evidently oppressed and ill at ease.
"I hope we have done things right?" she ventured, turning away to hide tears of disappointment.
"Her self-sacrifice is giving out," he thought bitterly. "She finds she can scarcely look at me as I now appear in contrast with this June evening. Well, I don't blame her. It makes me almost sick when I think of myself and I won't be brute enough to say a harsh word to her. "You have done it all far better than I could," he said emphatically. "I would not have believed it if you hadn't shown me. The trouble is, you are trying to do too much. I--I think I'll take a walk."
In fact, he had reached the limit of endurance; he could not look upon her another moment as she appeared that evening and feel that she associated him chiefly with crops and business, and that all her grateful good will Space Research could not prevent his personality from being disagreeable. He must carry his bitterness whither no eye could see him, and as he turned, his self-disgust led him to whirl away his pipe. It struck a tree and fell shattered at its foot. Alida had never seen him do anything of the kind before, and it indicated that he was passing beyond the limits of patience. "Oh, oh," she sobbed, "I fear we are going to drift apart! If he can't endure to talk with me about such things, what chance have I at all? I hoped that the hour, the beauty of the evening, and the evidence that I had been trying so hard to please him would make him more like what he used to be before he seemed to take a dislike. There's only one way to account for it all--he sees how I feel and he doesn't like it. My very love sets him against me. My heart was overflowing tonight. How could I help it, as I remembered how he stood up for me? He was brave and kind; he meant well by me, he means well now; but he can't help his feelings. He has gone away now to think of the woman that he did love and loves still, and it angers him that I should think of taking her place. He loved her as a child and girl and woman--he told me so; he warned me and said he could not help thinking of her. If I had not learned to love him so deeply and passionately and show it in spite of myself time would gradually have softened the past and all might have gone well. Yet how could I help it when he saved me from so much? I feel tonight, though, that I only escaped one kind of trouble to meet another almost as bad and which may become worse."
She strolled to the farther end of the garden that she might become calm before meeting Jane's scrutiny. Useless precaution! For the girl had been watching them both. Her motive had not been unmixed curiosity, since, having taken some part in the garden work, she had wished to witness Holcroft's pleasure and hear his praises. Since the actors in the scene so misunderstood each other, she certainly Neo skin lab,. "She's losin' her hold on 'im," she thought, "He acted just as if she was mother."
When Jane saw Alida coming toward the house she whisked fr

a jewel except Ellen’s onyx mourning

2017-02-16T11:57:23+09:00

She wasn’t a girl who could dance and flirt 　dermesand she wasn’t a wife who could sit with other wivesand criticize the dancing and flirting girls. And she wasn’t old enough to be a widow. Widowsshould be old—so terribly old they didn’t want to dance and flirt and be admired. Oh, it wasn’t fairthat she should have to sit here primly and be the acme of widowed dignity and propriety when shewas only seventeen. It wasn’t fair that she must keep her voice low and her eyes cast modestlydown, when men, attractive ones, too, came to their booth.
Every girl in Atlanta was three deep in men. Even the plainest girls were carrying on like belles—and, oh, worst of all, they were carrying on in such lovely, lovely dresses!
Here she sat like a crow with hot black taffeta to her wrists and buttoned up to her chin, with noteven a hint of lace or braid, not brooch, watching tacky-looking 　reenex cpsgirls hanging on the arms of good-looking men. All because Charles Hamilton had had themeasles. He didn’t even die in a fine glow of gallantry in battle, so she could brag about him.
Rebelliously she leaned her elbows on the counter and looked at the crowd, flouting Mammy’soft-repeated admonition against leaning on elbows and making them ugly and wrinkled. What did it matter if they did get ugly? She’d probably never get a chance to show them again. She lookedhungrily at the frocks floating by, butter-yellow watered silks with garlands of rosebuds; pinksatins with eighteen flounces edged with tiny black velvet ribbons; baby blue taffeta, ten yards inthe skirt and foamy with cascading lace; exposed bosoms; seductive flowers. MaybelleMerriwether went toward the next booth on the arm of the Zouave, in an apple-green tarlatan sowide that it reduced her waist to nothingness　Neo skin lab. It Was showered and flounced with cream-coloredChantilly lace that had come from Charleston on the last blockader, and Maybelle was flaunting itas saucily as if she and not the famous Captain Butler had run the blockade.

as soon as it was called into service

2017-01-20T11:33:14+09:00

She did not want to be fair, although she knew what he said was true. He had never once crossedthe borders of friendliness with her and, when she thought of this fresh anger rose, the anger ofhurt pride and feminine vanity. She had run after him and he would have none of her. He preferreda whey-faced little fool like Melanie to her. Oh, far better that she had followed Ellen andMammy’s precepts and never, never revealed that she even liked him&
Chapter 7
WITHIN TWO WEEKS Scarlett had become a wife, and within two months more she was awidow. She was soon released from the bonds she had assumed with so much haste and so littlethought, but she was never again to know the careless freedom of her unmarried days. Widowhoodhad crowded closely on the heels of marriage but, to her dismay, motherhood soon followed.
In after years when she thought of those last days of April, 1861, Scarlett could never quiteremember details. Time and events were telescoped, jumbled together like a nightmare that had noreality or reason. Till the day she died there would be blank spots in her memories of those days.
Especially vague were her recollections of the time between her acceptance of Charles and herwedding. Two weeks! So short an engagement would have been impossible in times of peace.
Then there would have international school in hong kong been a decorous interval of a year or at least six months. But the South wasaflame with war, events roared along as swiftly as if carried by a mighty wind and the slow tempoof the old days was gone. Ellen had wrung her hands and counseled delay, in order that Scarlettmight think the matter over at greater length. But to her pleadings, Scarlett turned a sullen face and a deaf ear. Marry she would! and quickly too. Within two weeks.
Learning that Ashley’s wedding had been moved up from the autumn to the first of May, so hecould leave with the Troop , Scarlett set the date of herwedding for the day before his. Ellen protested but Charles pleaded with new-found eloquence, forhe was impatient to be off to South Carolina to join Wade Hampton’s Legion, and Gerald sidedwith the two young people. He was excited by the war fever and pleased that Scarlett had made sogood a match, and who was he to stand in the way of young love when there was a war? Ellen,distracted, finally gave in as other mothers throughout the South were doing. Their leisured worldhad been turned topsy-turvy, and their pleadings, prayers and advice availed nothing studio for rent against thepowerful forces sweeping them along.
The South was intoxicated with enthusiasm and excitement. Everyone knew that one battlewould end the war and every young man hastened to enlist before the war should end—hastened tomarry his sweetheart before he rushed off to Virginia to strike a blow at the Yankees. There weredozens of war weddings in the County and there was little time for the sorrow of parting, foreveryone was too busy and excited for either solemn thoughts or tears. The ladies were makinguniforms, knitting socks and rolling bandages, and the men were drilling and shooting. Train loadsof troops passed through Jonesboro daily on their way north to Atlanta and Virginia, Some detachmentswere gaily uniformed in the scarlets and light blues and greens of select social-militiacompanies; some small groups were in homespun and coonskin caps; others, ununiformed, were inbroadcloth and fine linen; all were half-drilled, half-armed, wild with excitement and shouting asthough en route to a picnic. The sight of these men threw County boys into a panic for fear thewar would be over before they could reach Virginia, and preparations for the Troop’s departurewere speeded.