➥ Guess Who's Going Bankrupt ❍ May 22, 2023

Something much bigger is just around the corner... [USA Insider News]( Dear Reader, If you thought the store closures and bankruptcies in 2022 were surprising… you haven't seen anything yet. [Something much bigger]( is just around the corner. Few Americans even know that any of this is happening… Those who do know don't have a clue what to do about it, or how to prepare for what's next. If you're worried about this situation and its implications for American society, I strongly urge you to listen to [this message.]( Which dominoes are the next to fall and what can you do to prepare? [Click here to see the full story..]( Sincerely, “Yes, you are the same. I wonder what the rest of your life will be. Don’t spoil it by renunciations. At present you are a perfect type. Don’t make yourself incomplete. You are quite flawless now. You need not shake your head: you know you are. Besides, Dorian, don’t deceive yourself. Life is not governed by will or intention. Life is a question of nerves, and fibres, and slowly built-up cells in which thought hides itself and passion has its dreams. You may fancy yourself safe and think yourself strong. But a chance tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play—I tell you, Dorian, that it is on things like these that our lives depend. Browning writes about that somewhere; but our own senses will imagine them for us. There are moments when the odour of lilas blanc passes suddenly across me, and I have to live the strangest month of my life over again. I wish I could change places with you, Dorian. The world has cried out against us both, but it has always worshipped you. It always will worship you. You are the type of what the age is searching for, and what it is afraid it has found. I am so glad that you have never done anything, never carved a statue, or painted a picture, or produced anything outside of yourself! Life has been your art. You have set yourself to music. Your days are your sonnets.” Dorian rose up from the piano and passed his hand through his hair. “Yes, life has been exquisite,” he murmured, “but I am not going to have the same life, Harry. And you must not say these extravagant things to me. You don’t know everything about me. I think that if you did, even you would turn from me. You laugh. Don’t laugh.” “Why have you stopped playing, Dorian? Go back and give me the nocturne over again. Look at that great, honey-coloured moon that hangs in the dusky air. She is waiting for you to charm her, and if you play she will come closer to the earth. You won’t? Let us go to the club, then. It has been a charming evening, and we must end it charmingly. There is some one at White’s who wants immensely to know you—young Lord Poole, Bournemouth’s eldest son. He has already copied your neckties, and has begged me to introduce him to you. He is quite delightful and rather reminds me of you.” “I hope not,” said Dorian with a sad look in his eyes. “But I am tired to-night, Harry. I shan’t go to the club. It is nearly eleven, and I want to go to bed early.” [Louis Navellier] Louis Navellier Senior Quantitative Analyst, InvestorPlace “Yes, you are the same. I wonder what the rest of your life will be. Don’t spoil it by renunciations. At present you are a perfect type. Don’t make yourself incomplete. You are quite flawless now. You need not shake your head: you know you are. Besides, Dorian, don’t deceive yourself. Life is not governed by will or intention. Life is a question of nerves, and fibres, and slowly built-up cells in which thought hides itself and passion has its dreams. You may fancy yourself safe and think yourself strong. But a chance tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play—I tell you, Dorian, that it is on things like these that our lives depend. Browning writes about that somewhere; but our own senses will imagine them for us. There are moments when the odour of lilas blanc passes suddenly across me, and I have to live the strangest month of my life over again. I wish I could change places with you, Dorian. The world has cried out against us both, but it has always worshipped you. It always will worship you. You are the type of what the age is searching for, and what it is afraid it has found. I am so glad that you have never done anything, never carved a statue, or painted a picture, or produced anything outside of yourself! Life has been your art. You have set yourself to music. Your days are your sonnets.” Dorian rose up from the piano and passed his hand through his hair. “Yes, life has been exquisite,” he murmured, “but I am not going to have the same life, Harry. And you must not say these extravagant things to me. You don’t know everything about me. I think that if you did, even you would turn from me. You laugh. Don’t laugh.” “Why have you stopped playing, Dorian? Go back and give me the nocturne over again. Look at that great, honey-coloured moon that hangs in the dusky air. She is waiting for you to charm her, and if you play she will come closer to the earth. You won’t? Let us go to the club, then. It has been a charming evening, and we must end it charmingly. There is some one at White’s who wants immensely to know you—young Lord Poole, Bournemouth’s eldest son. He has already copied your neckties, and has begged me to introduce him to you. He is quite delightful and rather reminds me of you.” “I hope not,” said Dorian with a sad look in his eyes. “But I am tired to-night, Harry. I shan’t go to the club. It is nearly eleven, and I want to go to bed early.” Sure, here's another 600-word sample of random text: The sun was shining brightly on the lush green fields, and the sweet fragrance of flowers filled the air. I walked along the meadow, taking in the beauty of nature. Butterflies fluttered around me, and the sound of birds chirping added to the tranquility of the moment. As I walked, I noticed a small cottage in the distance. It was nestled in a grove of trees, and smoke was coming from the chimney. Curious, I made my way towards it. As I approached, I saw an old man sitting on the porch, enjoying the warmth of the sun. He looked up as I approached, and a smile spread across his face. "Hello there," he said, his voice warm and friendly. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?" "I was just walking and I saw your cottage," I replied. "It's a beautiful place you have here." The old man chuckled. "It's nothing special, just a simple life in the countryside. Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?" [--------------] Sometimes, colleagues of USA Insider News share special offers with us that we think our readers should be made aware of. Above is one such special opportunity that we believe deserves your attention. [--------------][--------------] Email is compliments of Finance and Investing Traffic, LLC, owner and operator of USA Insider News. Experiencing issues or have questions? [Contact our support team](mailto:abuse@usainsidernews.com), available 24/7, to guide you every step of the way. To ensure you receive our emails to your inbox, be sure to [whitelist us](. © 2023 USA Insider News. All Rights Reserved. Thinking about unsubscribing? We hope not! But, if you must, the link is below. This ad is sent on behalf of InvestorPlace Media at 1125 N. 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