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Quote by Wayne Gerard Trotman

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Veterans of the Psychic Wars

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Author

Wayne Gerard Trotman
Wayne Gerard Trotman

Wayne Gerard Trotman, born on May 16, 1964, is a renowned filmmaker known for his profound social significance and unique artistic style. His works have had a wide impact in the film industry. more

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“See ya, Crab," sullen boy said to Rayanne. "Crab?" "It's my name, Rayanne Crabbe, with a double b and an e at the end. So what?" "Pull in your pincers, Rayanne," said Gabriel, opening and closing the four fingers of both hands against his thumbs. Rayanne's last name being Crabbe was the first piece of good news I had heard in a long time, and as she and Gabriel walked away I could swear she was moving sideways.”

Last NameCrabLike ACrabbe
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“Diffugere Nives Horace, Odes, iv, 7 The snows are fled away, leaves on the shaws And grasses in the mead renew their birth, The river to the river-bed withdraws, And altered is the fashion of the earth. The Nymphs and Graces three put off their fear And unapparelled in the woodland play. The swift hour and the brief prime of the year Say to the soul, Thou wast not born for aye. Thaw follows frost; hard on the heel of spring Treads summer sure to die, for hard on hers Comes autumn with his apples scattering; Then back to wintertide, when nothing stirs. But oh, whate'er the sky-led seasons mar, Moon upon moon rebuilds it with her beams; Come we where Tullus and where Ancus are And good Aeneas, we are dust and dreams. Torquatus, if the gods in heaven shall add The morrow to the day, what tongue has told? Feast then thy heart, for what thy heart has had The fingers of no heir will ever hold. When thou descendest once the shades among, The stern assize and equal judgment o'er, Not thy long lineage nor thy golden tongue, No, nor thy righteousness, shall friend thee more. Night holds Hippolytus the pure of stain, Diana steads him nothing, he must stay; And Theseus leaves Pirithous in the chain The love of comrades cannot take away.”

A E Housman
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“As we were driving, something caught Tommy's attention outside the window. He pointed. "You see that? My god. Monster!" "Yeah," I said. "That was a deer." "Deer, my foot. That thing will kill you. You don't know why or how. Speaking of killer, when I sleep, I have dream that you try to kill me.”

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“Gypsy cabs jostled and honked...Dollar vans lined the sidewalk and people piled in and out. As I walked down the slope, the buildings grew smaller and squalid. Trees vanished...and the heat picked up. Beyond the brick wall of the Navy Yard, the silver skyline of Manhattan glimmered in the distance like a mirage. The industrial remains of the flats were low and decrepit and mostly abandoned, though a few beeping forklifts unloaded trucks here and there. The storefronts were shuttered except for a bank busy with Orthodox Jews. The funk of a chicken processing plant contaminated the air. I walked along the high brick wall that separated the Navy Yard from the street, frequently stepping over pulverized vials that sparkled like jewels on the sidewalk. There was no shade. I blinked away the dust.”

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“Just then, Larry recalled a conversation he had with a friend in Ireland, about the situation in Nepal between the King and the Maoists. The friend was sided with the Maoists, which was more or less his political leanings in any case, and stated that at least they were trying to help the people. So Larry had remarked upon the rising death rate, and how the Maoists are just as brutal as the security forces, yet the friend simply shrugged and said you have to expect some collateral damage in a revolution. Oh how he hates that phrase, as that makes it sound like the people’s lives are meant to be expendable, something that a person’s life should never be. Of course, it is very easy to disregard people you have never met, and who are certainly not your friends or family members. After all, in the eyes of an outsider, who is in no danger whatsoever, the people caught up in the situation are nothing more than simply statistics.”

PoliticsRevoltCollateral DamagePeople S LivesMaoists
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