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The Quotes

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The Quotes

“David cuts through all the many needs, wants, and desires that may have been bouncing around inside him and essentially says, "If I could have only one thing, I want to be with God, to be in His presence, to know that he is always with me." Whether in good times or bad times, David knew the thing he needed most: to feel God's presence close by, intimately, through worship.”

WantGodNeededWorshipPresenceKnowFeelTheAlwaysOneMeToIBeIsMostThatInThingCloseHeWithHisThroughKnewByKing DavidGod SIntimately
Book:Weird: Because Normal Isn't Working
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“For Commander Ripley Jones, it was becoming more and more troublesome. It had been said that nothing is infallible, Antares apparently being the proof. After hastily recalling all crew and leaving Spacedock 7 thirty hours ago, there had been nothing but problems. Breakdowns in the sensors and telemetry, system failures of a wide variety and finally – the Last Straw: a coupling seal in the stardrive engine failed. Fortunately the cut-out worked, or the whole of engineering would’ve disappeared in a flaming ball of anti-matter. Five crewmen were seriously injured as it was. Commander Smith, the Chief Entech, had the offending unit stripped down and under repair. They were currently on conversion drive - which could only propel them at sub-light speeds – and Ripley was currently in an elevator with a very pissed Captain Falconer.”

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Book:Blachart
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“I was the chief of security on this civilian behemoth. Yes, that’s right – I used a big word – try not to faint. I was one of the mostly invisible shepherds protecting the gilded flock of holidaymakers on their pleasure cruise through space. Most of the time it was boring, tedious work with nothing more exciting than the occasional case of misplaced luggage, passengers getting lost in the miles of corridor asking for directions, and just being visible to the passengers to put their minds at ease and make them think they were safe. Safe? Ha ha! This is space, man – anything can happen. Finding my shuttle out here proves that.”

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Book:Space Vacation
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“Schimbarea este iminentă. Ființa omenească se află în pragul unei noi ere, când își va întoarce iar privirile spre natură și spre ceea ce a fost... spre ideile din cărți precum Zoharul și alte texte străvechi din lumea întreagă. Adevărurile semnificative își au propria forță gravitațională și, în cele din urmă, atrag oamenii spre ele. Va veni o zi în care știința modernă va începe să studieze cu atenție înțelepciunea anticilor. Aceea va fi ziua în care omenirea va începe să afle răspunsurile la marile întrebări ale vieții, încă neelucidate.”

LostBrownTheSymbolDan
Book:The Lost Symbol
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“Adevărul are putere. Iar dacă gravităm cu toții în jurul acelorași idei, o facem poate, întrucât acele idei sunt reale... înscrise adânc în noi înșine. Iar atunci când auzim adevărul, chiar dacă nu-l înțelegem, simțim că el rezonează în interiorul nostru... vibrând odată cu înțelepciunea noastră inconștientă. Poate că adevărul nu-l învățăm, ci ni-l reamintim... îl re-memorăm... îl re-cunoaștem... ca fiind deja înlăuntrul nostru.”

LostBrownTheSymbolDan
Book:The Lost Symbol
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“Suntem creatori, dar jucăm naivi, rolul de „creație”. Ne considerăm biete oi neajutorate, mânate încolo și-ncoace de Dumnezeul care ne-a creat. Îngenunchem aidoma unor copii speriați, implorând ajutor, iertare sau noroc. Odată ce ne vom da seama însă că am fost cu adevărat modelați după chipul și asemănarea Creatorului, vom începe să înțelegem că și noi suntem, prin urmare, creatori. Iar atunci când acest lucru ne va fi clar, porțile se vor deschide larg în fața realului potențial omenesc.”

LostBrownTheSymbolDan
Book:The Lost Symbol
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“Viața noastră e ca o călătorie pe pământ: prea ușoară și monotonă de-a lungul întinselor câmpii, prea dură și neplăcută pe pantele abrupte; dar pe înălțimile munților te bucuri de o priveliște minunată, te simți exaltat, ochii se umplu de lacrimi, ai vrea să cânți, ai vrea să ai aripi. Dar nu poți să rămâi acolo, trebuie să-ți continui călătoria și începi să cobori pe partea cealaltă, atât de preocupat să alegi locul în care să-ți pui piciorul încât uiți plăcerea încercată pe culmi”

TheCRobeDouglasLloyd
Book:The Robe
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“The Loneliness of the Military Historian Confess: it's my profession that alarms you. This is why few people ask me to dinner, though Lord knows I don't go out of my way to be scary. I wear dresses of sensible cut and unalarming shades of beige, I smell of lavender and go to the hairdresser's: no prophetess mane of mine, complete with snakes, will frighten the youngsters. If I roll my eyes and mutter, if I clutch at my heart and scream in horror like a third-rate actress chewing up a mad scene, I do it in private and nobody sees but the bathroom mirror. In general I might agree with you: women should not contemplate war, should not weigh tactics impartially, or evade the word enemy, or view both sides and denounce nothing. Women should march for peace, or hand out white feathers to arouse bravery, spit themselves on bayonets to protect their babies, whose skulls will be split anyway, or,having been raped repeatedly, hang themselves with their own hair. There are the functions that inspire general comfort. That, and the knitting of socks for the troops and a sort of moral cheerleading. Also: mourning the dead. Sons,lovers and so forth. All the killed children. Instead of this, I tell what I hope will pass as truth. A blunt thing, not lovely. The truth is seldom welcome, especially at dinner, though I am good at what I do. My trade is courage and atrocities. I look at them and do not condemn. I write things down the way they happened, as near as can be remembered. I don't ask why, because it is mostly the same. Wars happen because the ones who start them think they can win. In my dreams there is glamour. The Vikings leave their fields each year for a few months of killing and plunder, much as the boys go hunting. In real life they were farmers. The come back loaded with splendour. The Arabs ride against Crusaders with scimitars that could sever silk in the air. A swift cut to the horse's neck and a hunk of armour crashes down like a tower. Fire against metal. A poet might say: romance against banality. When awake, I know better. Despite the propaganda, there are no monsters, or none that could be finally buried. Finish one off, and circumstances and the radio create another. Believe me: whole armies have prayed fervently to God all night and meant it, and been slaughtered anyway. Brutality wins frequently, and large outcomes have turned on the invention of a mechanical device, viz. radar. True, valour sometimes counts for something, as at Thermopylae. Sometimes being right - though ultimate virtue, by agreed tradition, is decided by the winner. Sometimes men throw themselves on grenades and burst like paper bags of guts to save their comrades. I can admire that. But rats and cholera have won many wars. Those, and potatoes, or the absence of them. It's no use pinning all those medals across the chests of the dead. Impressive, but I know too much. Grand exploits merely depress me. In the interests of research I have walked on many battlefields that once were liquid with pulped men's bodies and spangled with exploded shells and splayed bone. All of them have been green again by the time I got there. Each has inspired a few good quotes in its day. Sad marble angels brood like hens over the grassy nests where nothing hatches. (The angels could just as well be described as vulgar or pitiless, depending on camera angle.) The word glory figures a lot on gateways. Of course I pick a flower or two from each, and press it in the hotel Bible for a souvenir. I'm just as human as you. But it's no use asking me for a final statement. As I say, I deal in tactics. Also statistics: for every year of peace there have been four hundred years of war.”

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Book:Morning in the Burned House: Poems
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“My stomach gave a violent start and turned into a hunk of ice. The world was spinning around me, and blobs of faces and visions of things past were dancing in the red mist that covered the lot. It swirled into a mass of colors and I felt myself swaying on my feet. Someone cried, "Glory, look at the kid!" And the ground rushed up to meet me very suddenly.”

OutsidersSpinningTheColorsHinton
Book:追逐金色的少年 [Zhui zhu jin se de shao nian] / The Outsiders
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“Ex ‘Fleet man?” “He was a full Commander, last I heard, sir.” “Interesting.” Falconer commented. “Get me his specs. If I have to take him aboard my ship, I want to know all about him.” She swallowed. “Yes sir.” Falconer returned his attention to Nordyke. “What’s their location?” “They’re about a week outside the Hermes system, Captain.” “Helm, set a course – best possible speed!” “Um – sir, we’re on conversion drive at the moment.” The helmsman reported. “I know, Linson – d’you think I’m senile?” “No, sir – I…” The young helmsman stammered. “I did say ‘best possible speed’, didn’t I?” “Yes, sir.”

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Book:Blachart
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“An idea was forming in his mind. It was only rudimentary, but in the circumstances, it could be called a plan. He loathed the alien for attacking them, without any provocation. He hated the way it was smashing up his ship – and all of them – with hardly any effort or regard for life at all. “How’s that message coming?” “Umm – they must be jamming us, sir – I can’t get through.”

WayMindCircumstancesRegardPlanTheUsIAllProvocationShipForHeOnlyThemThroughWasComingAnCan TSirRudimentaryHow SOf ThemUmmWhithout
Book:Space Sucks!
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“Whether or not the fame of Gilgamesh of Uruk had reached the Aegean – and the idea is attractive – there can be no doubt that it was as great as that of any other hero. In time his name became so much a household word that jokes and forgeries were fathered onto it, as in a popular fraud that survives on eighth-century B.C. tablets which perhaps themselves copy an older text. This is a letter supposed to be written by Gilgamesh to some other king, with commands that he should send improbable quantities of livestock and metals, along with gold and precious stones for an amulet for Enkidu, which would weigh no less that thirty pounds. The joke must have been well received, for it survives in four copies, all from Sultantepe.”

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Book:The Epic of Gilgamesh
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“To get rid of a spiritual problem, we need to pull it up by its spiritual root. To pull up roots, we're going to have to be willing to get our hands dirty, to make some sacrifices that provides long-term benefits instead of short-term, refinanced gains. God is willing to help us, to provide the tools we need to weed out those areas where our desire for money is spoiling our fruit of the Spirit.”

GodProblemHandsSpiritualSpiritMoneyWillingAreasToolsRootsFruitDirtyWeedHelpTheUsToMakeIsOfUpOutGetOurSomeSacrificesWhereThoseProvidePullRidSpoiling
Book:Weird: Because Normal Isn't Working
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“Wrong? So you are saying, I'm wrong okay then... It's not possible every time to be right, one moment you should be wrong in luck happens this and everywhere... But why?? Where?? And Prove! Under why - why do you think, I'm wrong? - Where? Is it in one of my books which I have written, is it by books which I have read?? - reviewed, rated, is it by the stuff I have said and made... Please tell the topic! - Prove, everything to go well as far as possible you should give a prove something which confirms your answer!”

SaidStuffProveRateTheItIAnswerIsHaveByConfirmReviewedRated
Author:Deyth Banger
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“The coining of a new (somewhat short-lived) term, ‘homophiliac’, used by homophobes as an alternative to ‘homophobic’, is no more than an exercise in facetiousness. The principle employed, is to try to present something morally reprehensible (homophobia) as something ordinary or innocuous – in the same way that racists avoid using words like ‘racist’ to describe themselves, in favor of wrapping their hatred in terms like ‘white pride’ in order to make the same thing seem less reprehensible than itself”

TermPresentTheShort LivedHomophobicFacetiousnessHomophiliacMore ThanAs AnThe Principle
Book:Pearls Before Swine
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“Starmer has found it difficult to escape this cycle of dependence because he cannot comprehend a crucial therapeutic insight: that the subject supposed to know knows nothing. Often, an analytic breakthrough comes when the patient realises that the Other to whom she has delegated her authority (or knowledge, or desire) is illusory: an empty signifier. This revelation allows her to take responsibility for her own desire, which is thereby transformed from a conduit for the Other’s will into what Lacan calls ‘decided desire’ or ‘determined desire’. When her experience is no longer mediated by the subject supposed to know, its possibilities are expanded. Dependence is supplanted by autonomy. And that, for Lacanians, is the real meaning of adulthood, although most adults never achieve it.”

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Author:Oliver Eagleton
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