decrease in ldl (bad) cholesterol

From: toney wicks (luisacarperzson@private)
Date: Mon Aug 16 2004 - 10:21:25 PDT


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By that time the others had all retired12



-----Original Message-----
From: Corliss Stone [mailto:jlqusk@private] 
To: rob leath; benedict peaches; brooks wadden; gilbert monday 
Sent: Saturday, May, 2004 2:46 AM
Subject: decrease in ldl (bad) cholesterol



The relative risks and confidence intervals available with all current
evidence do not point to a potential benefit overall or in specific
subgroups of patients  Furthermore assessment of efficacy among subgroups
such as patients with P aeruginosa infections probably requires an
unachievable number of patients treated empirically at the time benefit of
antibiotic treatment is most evident  The Kingdom of Fife (that royal
province) may be observed by the curious on the map, occupying a tongue of
land between the firths of Forth and Tay. It may be continually seen from
many parts of Edinburgh (among the rest, from the windows of my father's
house) dying away into the distance and the easterly HAAR with one smoky
seaside town beyond another, or in winter printing on the gray heaven some
glittering hill-tops. It has no beauty to recommend it, being a low,
sea-salted, wind-vexed promontory; trees very rare, except (as common on the
east coast) along the dens of rivers; the fields well cultivated, I
understand, but not lovely to the eye. It is of the coast I speak: the
interior may be the garden of Eden. History broods over that part of the
world like the easterly HAAR. Even on the map, its long row of Gaelic place-
names bear testimony to an old and settled race. Of these little towns,
posted along the shore as close as sedges, each with its bit of harbour, its
old weather-beaten church or public building, its flavour of decayed
prosperity and decaying fish, not one but has its legend, quaint or tragic:
Dunfermline, in whose royal towers the king may be still observed (in the
ballad) drinking the blood- red wine; somnolent Inverkeithing, once the
quarantine of Leith; Aberdour, hard by the monastic islet of Inchcolm, hard
by Donibristle where the "bonny face was spoiled"; Burntisland where, when
Paul Jones was off the coast, the Reverend Mr. Shirra had a table carried
between tidemarks, and publicly prayed against the rover at the pitch of his
voice and his broad lowland dialect; Kinghorn, where Alexander "brak's
neckbane" and left Scotland to the English wars; Kirkcaldy, where the
witches once prevailed extremely and sank tall ships and honest mariners in
the North Sea; Dysart, famous - well famous at least to me for the Dutch
ships that lay in its harbour, painted like toys and with pots of flowers
and cages of song-birds in the cabin windows, and for one particular Dutch
skipper who would sit all day in slippers on the break of the poop, smoking
a long German pipe; Wemyss (pronounce Weems) with its bat-haunted caves,
where the Chevalier Johnstone, on his flight from Culloden, passed a night
of superstitious terrors; Leven, a bald, quite modern place, sacred to
summer visitors, whence there has gone but yesterday the tall figure and the
white locks of the last Englishman in Delhi, my uncle Dr. Balfour, who was
still walking his hospital rounds, while the troopers from Meerut clattered
and cried "Deen Deen" along the streets of the imperial city, and Willoughby
mustered his handful of heroes at the magazine, and the nameless brave one
in the telegraph office was perhaps already fingering his last despatch; and
just a little beyond Leven, Largo Law and the smoke of Largo town mounting
about its feet, the town of Alexander Selkirk, better known under the name
of Robinson Crusoe. So on, the list might be pursued (only for private
reasons, which the reader will shortly have df to guess) by St. Monance, and
Pittenweem, and the two Anstruthers, and Cellardyke, and Crail, where
Primate Sharpe was once a humble and innocent country minister: on to the
heel of the land, to Fife Ness, overlooked by a sea-wood of matted elders
and the quaint old mansion of Balcomie, itself overlooking but the breach or
the quiescence of the deep - the Carr Rock beacon rising close in front, and
as night draws in, the star of the Inchcape reef springing up on the one
hand, and the star of the May Island on the other, and farther off yet a
third and a greater on the craggy foreland of St. Abb's. And but a little
way round the corner of the land, imminent itself above the sea, stands the
gem of the province and the light of mediaeval Scotland, St. Andrews, where
the great Cardinal Beaton held garrison against the world, and the second of
the name and title perished (as you may read in Knox's jeering narrative)
under the knives of true-blue Protestants, and to this day (after so many
centuries) the current voice of the professor i
anillada 19 tozudez  02sombreador  usted terrazgo



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