Barracks Quotes

Now the motif was clear. This trip was their first and last taste of freedom, an interlude between two regimentations: the campus and the barracks. The elemental simplicities of wilderness travel were thrills not only because of their novelty, but because they represented complete freedom to make mistakes. The wilderness gave them their first taste of those rewards and penalties for wise and foolish acts which every woodsman faces daily, but against which civilization has built a thousand buffers. These boys were 'on their own' in this particular sense. ~ Aldo Leopold

The courtroom is one instance of the fact that while our society may be liberal and democratic in some large and vague sense, its moving parts, its smaller chambers
its classrooms, its workplaces, its corporate boardrooms, its jails, its military barracks
are flagrantly undemocratic, dominated by one commanding person or a tiny elite of power. ~ Howard Zinn

Home in Ireland, I went to Collins Barracks and spent some time wandering around, making notes on the various guns, knives and swords. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

If I didn't forgive the people who took me into the barracks and beat me unconscious over a period of days during the period when the British state was indicted for inhuman and degrading treatment in 1971-72, or even the guys who shot me, if you don't forgive them, you end up with unnecessary baggage. ~ Gerry Adams

Arin heard the door to the barracks creak. The sound brought him immediately to his feet, for only one person would come to his cell this late at night. Then he heard the first heavy footfall, and his hands slackened around the metal bars. The footsteps coming were not hers. They belonged to someone big. Solid, slow. Probably a man.
Torchlight pulsed toward Arin's cell. When he saw who carried it, he pulled away from the bars. He saw a child's nightmare come to life.
The general set the torch in a sconce. He stared, taking in Arin's fresh bruises, his height, his features. The general's frown deepened.
This man didn't look like Kestrel. He was all mass and muscle. But Arin found her in the way her father lifted his chin, and his eyes held the same dangerous intelligence.
"Is she all right?" Arin said. When he received no response, he asked again in Valorian. And because he had already damned himself with a question he couldn't bear not to ask, Arin said something he had sworn he would never say. "Sir."
"She's fine."
A feeling flowed into Arin, something like sleep or the sudden absence of pain.
"If I had my choice, I would kill you," said the general, "but that would cause more talk. You'll be sold. Not right away, because I don't want to be seen reacting to a scandal. But soon.
"I'll be spending some time at home, and I will be watching you. If you come near my daughter, I will forget my better judgment. I will have you torn limb from ~ Marie Rutkoski

She knew that he would stop her. Perhaps he would be cunning about it. Maybe he would go to the steward behind her back, tell him of the theft and challenge, and ask to be brought before the judge and Irex. If that plan didn't suit Arin, he would find another.
He was going to be a problem.
"You're right," she told him.
Arin blinked, then narrowed his eyes.
"In fact," she continued, "if you had let me explain, I would have told you that I had already decided to call off the duel."
"You have."
She showed him the two letters. The one addressed to her father was on top. She let the mere edge of the other letter show. "One is for my father, telling him what has happened. The other is for Irex, making my apologies and inviting him to collect his five hundred gold pieces whenever he likes."
Arin still looked skeptical.
"He'll also collect you, of course. Knowing him, he'll have you whipped until you're unconscious and even after that. I'm sure that when you wake up, you'll be very glad that I decided to do exactly as you wanted."
Arin snorted.
"If you doubt me, you're welcome to walk with me to the barracks to watch as I give my father's letter to a soldier, with orders for its swift delivery."
"I think I will." He opened the library door.
They left the house and crossed the hard ground. Kestrel shivered. She hadn't stopped to fetch a cloak. She couldn't risk that Arin would change his mind.
When they entered the barra ~ Marie Rutkoski

I don't think my father loved his job with the city, but on the other hand, I'm not sure he ever asked himself major questions like 'Do I like my job? Is this really what I want to spend my life doing? Is it as fulfilling as some of the dreams I had for myself when I was a young man serving in Korea and reading British poetry in my bunk in the barracks at night?' He had a family to support, this was his job, he got up every day and did it, end of story, everything else is just self-indulgent nonsense. That may actually have been the lifetime sum-total of his thinking on the matter. He ~ David Foster Wallace

The things you see in Army barracks sometimes defies logic. After a while, you give up trying to rationalize and understand such things ... you just accept them as your new reality. ~ Scott Burkett

That's the myth of it, the required lie that allows us to render our judgments. Parasites, criminals, dope fiends, dope peddlers, whores--when we can ride past them at Fayette and Monroe, car doors locked, our field of vision cautiously restricted to the road ahead, then the long journey into darkness is underway. Pale-skinned hillbillies and hard-faced yos, toothless white trash and gold-front gangsters--when we can glide on and feel only fear, we're well on the way. And if, after a time, we can glimpse the spectacle of the corner and manage nothing beyond loathing and contempt, then we've arrived at last at that naked place where a man finally sees the sense in stretching razor wire and building barracks and directing cattle cars into the compound.

It's a reckoning of another kind, perhaps, and one that becomes a possibility only through the arrogance and certainty that so easily accompanies a well-planned and well-tended life. We know ourselves, we believe in ourselves; from what we value most, we grant ourselves the illusion that it's not chance in circumstance, that opportunity itself isn't the defining issue. We want the high ground; we want our own worth to be acknowledged. Morality, intelligence, values--we want those things measured and counted. We want it to be about Us.

Yes, if we were down there, if we were the damned of the American cities, we would not fail. We would rise above the corner. And when we tell ourselves such things, we unthinka ~ David Simon

Mrs. Goldenthal's twin boys, Alex and Erno, were our age, and I discovered that they had been selected at Auschwitz for Mengele's experiments like us. Mrs. Goldenthan had stayed with them, and I found out later that she had hidden a younger child, Margarita, underneath her long skirt. She had come into the camp with the child hidden in her dress and during her entire stay there, even in the Nazi barracks where she had kept Margarita under the mattress during inspections, she and the other women had helped conceal the child. ~ Eva Mozes Kor

We then reached a fork in the valley. Should we go left or right? Dad called it left. I had a very powerful intuition that right was the choice we should make. Dad insisted left. I insisted right.
It was a fifty-fifty call and he relented.
Within two hundred yards we stumbled across a snowy track through the woods and followed it excitedly. Within a mile it came out on a mountain road, and within ten minutes we had flagged down a lift from a car heading up the hill in the darkness.
We had found salvation, and I was beat.
The car dropped us off at the gates of the garrison thirty minutes later. It was, by then, late into the night, but I was suddenly buzzing with energy and excitement.
The fatigue had gone. Dad knew that I had made the right call up there--if we had chosen left we would still be trudging into the unknown.
I felt so proud.
In truth it was probably luck, but I learned another valuable lesson that night: Listen to the quiet voice inside. Intuition is the noise of the mind.
As we tromped back through the barracks, though, we noticed there was an unusual amount of activity for the early hours of a weekday morning. It soon became very clear why.
First a sergeant appeared, followed by another soldier, and then we were ushered into the senior officers' block.
There was my uncle, standing in uniform looking both tired and serious. I started to break out into a big smile. So did Dad. Well, I was excited. We had cheated a ~ Bear Grylls

If she's out here and not locked up in the barracks, I'll know," he said. He took a deep breath and whistled.
"You share a whistle?" Trevanion said in disbelief.
"Do you have a problem with that?" Finnikin asked.
"I have a few whistles," Lucian murmured. "Very confusing sometimes."
"Whistles are meant for combat," Trevanion said. "Not wooing women. Women do not understand whistles. ~ Melina Marchetta

So when Fyrdraacas turn fourteen and celebrate their Catorcena, and are then adults in the eyes of the Warlord, off we go to Benica Barracks to learn to march, to learn to ride, to learn to shoot, to learn to die. But I do not want to go to the Barracks and learn to be a killer, a servant, a slave. ~ Ysabeau S. Wilce

temples it contained have been converted into barracks, arsenals ~ William Eleroy Curtis

Five M4s plus a SAW would be a normal load-out for a standard six-man fire team. But for this job, it was way too light. If I'd had my way, every man on the squad would have been carrying a machine gun. Lacking that, I wanted at least one more heavy weapon. And at the moment, the only other guy in the barracks who had a SAW was Gregory, who was sitting near the west door. "Hey, Greg, we need an assault gunner," said Raz, who'd read my thoughts. "You up for this?" "Honestly? No," replied Gregory, who seemed to be in a state of shock from the ordeals he had already endured. "I don't know if I can do it." Then Jones stepped over to Gregory. ~ Clinton Romesha

Cyra," Malan said, nodding as Vakrez eyed Akos. Akos stood up straighter, lifting his chin. He could still hear Vakrez's relentless voice scolding him for slouching, for dragging his feet, for uttering so much as a curse in Thuvhesit.
"Kereseth," Vakrez said. "You look bigger."
"That's because I actually feed him, unlike your barracks kitchen." Cyra thrust a bright green jumpsuit into Akos's arms that was marked L. When he unfolded it, it looked nearly as wide as it was tall, but no reason to complain, as long as he didn't get water in his boots.
"Right you are," Malan said in his reedy voice.
"You used to eat there without complaining," Vakrez said, elbowing him.
"Only because I was trying to get you to notice me," Malan said. "Notice I haven't been back there since. ~ Veronica Roth

He still wore, in the warming barracks, a muskrat cap with earlaps. Under it his eyes were gray as agates, as sudden as an elbow in the solar plexus. ~ Wallace Stegner

One day in Auschwitz I became so dispirited that I couldn't carry on. They had given me a beating, which wasn't exactly a pleasant experience. It was on a Sunday, and I said: 'I can't get up'. Then my comrades said: 'That's impossible, you have to get up, otherwise you're lost'. They went to a Dutch doctor, who worked with the German doctor. He came to me in the barracks and said: 'Get up and come to the hospital barracks early tomorrow morning. I'll talk to the German doctor and make sure you are admitted'. Because of that I survived. ~ Otto Frank

My father only saw six months of combat before being taken prisoner. How did they capture him? They were advancing over a frozen lake while the enemy's artillery shot at the ice. Few made it across, and those who did had just spent their last strength swimming through freezing water; all of them lost their weapons along the way. They came to the shore half-naked. The Finns would stretch out their arms to rescue them and some people would take their hands, while others…many of them wouldn't accept any help from the enemy. That was how they had been trained. My father grabbed one of their hands, and he was dragged out of the water. I remember his amazement: "They gave me schnapps to warm me up. Put me in dry clothes. They laughed and clapped me on the shoulder, 'You made it, Ivan!' " My father had never been face to face with the enemy before. He didn't understand why they were so cheerful… The Finnish campaign ended in 1940…Soviet war prisoners were exchanged for Finns. They were marched toward each other in columns. On their side, the Finns were greeted with hugs and handshakes…Our men, on the other hand, were immediately treated like enemies. "Brothers! Friends!" they threw themselves on their comrades. "Halt! Another step and we'll shoot!" The column was surrounded by soldiers with German Shepherds. They were led to specially prepared barracks surrounded by barbed wire. The interrogations began…"How were you taken prisoner?" the interrogator asked my father. "The Finns pull ~ Svetlana Alexievich

The camp offices stood in the centre, adjoining the shrine to Jupiter that held the legion's Eagle. In the camps of the Vth Macedonica and the VIth Ferrata, these buildings were of grey stone, dressed by Gaulish masons to such smoothness that a man could run his hand down them and not feel the joins.
The legions' respective signs of the bull and the eagle had been carved thereon with such pride and perfection that men copied them on their shields and carved them on the bedheads in the barracks.
At Raphana, the camp office of the XIIth Fulminata and IVth Scythians before which we dismounted was built of the local baked mud, and some drunkard with a poor eye for detail had etched
the Scythians' sign of the goat and the Fulminata's crossed thunderbolts together, so that it seemed as if the goat were thunderstruck, or else that lightning grew from its anus. Both applied equally; each was unthinkable in a legion which had any pride in itself. ~ M.C. Scott

[T]hat afternoon, Sergei Lavrov called me for the second time during the crisis. [...] "We have three demands," he said.
"What are they?" I asked.
"The first two are that the Georgians sign the no-use-of-force pledge and that their troops return to barracks," he told me.
"Done," I answered.

[...] But then Sergei said, "The other demand is just between us. Misha Saakashvili has to go." I couldn't believe my ears and I reacted out of instinct, not analysis.

"Sergei, the secretary of state of the United States does not have a conversation with the Russian foreign minister about overthrowing a democratically elected president," I said. "The third condition has just become public because I'm going to call everyone I can and tell them that Russia is demanding the overthrow of the Georgian president."

"I said it was between us," he repeated.
"No, it's not between us. Everyone is going to know." The conversation ended. I called Steve Hadley to tell him about the Russian demand. Then I called the British, the French, and several others. That afternoon the UN Security Council was meeting. I asked our representative to inform the Council as well.

Lavrov was furious, saying that he'd never had a colleague divulge the contents of a diplomatic conversation. I felt I had no choice. If the Georgians wanted to punish Saakashvili for the war, they would have a chance to do it through their own constitutional processes. But the Rus ~ Condoleezza Rice

To think about and prepare for war is boring, boring for everyone. It's being locked in barracks. ~ Natalie Clifford Barney

A brusque whisper coaxed Phillip from slumber. Someone had called his name. The cot squeaked as he sat up and squinted at a featureless silhouette. "Who is it?"
"Rise. Quick. Bring your medicine maker." The ragged voice belonged to True Seeker.
Tasked with keeping a watchful eye on Milly, the young man would come to Phillip at this hour for only one reason. He swung his legs to the ground. With one foot going into his trousers, he took a wide step across the narrow barracks and jostled Buck's shoulder.
His friend was on his feet and half-dressed before Phillip left the building, alarm urging his feet to a gallop. No one need tell him which direction to go. He buckled his sword belt as he went. The scabbard slapped his leg with each footfall, bringing to mind a similar night not long enough ago. His stride lengthened.
This time, he would run Collins clean through. ~ April W. Gardner

That is her secret. A poor and precious secret that not even the executioners, the decrees, the occupying authorities, the Depot, the barracks, the camps, History, time-everything that defiles and destroys you-have been able to take away from her. ~ Patrick Modiano

In the Nazi Arbeit [work] camps back in '44 when a man was caught smoking one cigarette, the whole barracks would die," a patient, Ralph, once told me. "For one cigarette! Yet even so, the men did not give up their inspiration, their will to live and to enjoy what they got out of life from certain substances, like liquor or tobacco or whatever the case may be." I don't know how accurate his account was as history, but as a chronicler of his own drug urges and those of his fellow Hastings Street addicts, Ralph spoke the bare truth: people jeopardize their lives for the sake of making the moment livable. ~ Gabor Mate

I was never a member of the peace movement or a pacifist, nor was I ever carried away from a demonstration outside a military barracks. Perhaps that's why I don't feel the need to compensate for anything. ~ Guido Westerwelle

You have to do something," Kestrel had said.
The woman blinked, bleary-eyed.
"Go tell the guards to let Smith out. He's imprisoned in the barracks. He--"
"I know," the woman had said. "He's been released."
"He has? By whom?"
The slave looked away. "It was Rax's decision. He said you could complain to him if you didn't like it."
Those last words sounded like a lie. They didn't even make sense. But the woman patted her hand and said, "I saw Smith myself, in the slaves' quarters. He's not too worse for wear. Don't worry, my lady." The face of the woman, whose name Kestrel had forgotten, filled with such sympathy that she had told her to leave.
Kestrel remembered the woman's expression. She looked at the shredded letter and saw again its written words--so snide, so understanding.
They didn't understand. No one did. They were wrong.
Kestrel slipped back under the blankets.
Some hours later, she called for a slave and asked her to open a window. Cold air poured in, and Kestrel shivered until she heard a distant ringing, the sound of hammer against anvil. Arin must know that she couldn't come to him. Why didn't he come to her?
She could make him. If she sent an order, he would obey.
But she didn't want his obedience. She wanted him to want to see her.
Kestrel flinched at this thought and the pain it brought with it.
She knew that even if everyone believed the wrong thing of her, they were also too close to being ~ Marie Rutkoski

The mosques are our barracks, the domes our helmets, the minarets our bayonets and the faithful our soldiers ... ~ Recep Tayyip Erdogan

Life is not an on and off switch. You don't have to have a military that is either in hard combat or is in the barracks. ~ James G. Stavridis

FORMING YOUR TROOPS For yu to win trophies, gold and elixir through raiding; then, that is the work of Troops which againg fight against the Goblins on the campaign map or other players. Normal troops are of fifteen types, ten among them get trained in the normal barracks and use elixir while the remaining five get trained in the dark barracks and use dark elixir. There are other hero troops in the game. ~ Anna Tumbaga

Quentin had grown up with that; the mere names were interchangeable and almost myriad. His childhood was full of them; his very body was an empty hall echoing with sonorous defeated names; he was not a being, an entity, he was a commonwealth. He was a barracks filled with stubborn back-looking ghosts still recovering, even forty-three years afterward, from the fever which had cured the disease, waking from the fever without even knowing that it had been the fever itself which they had fought against and not the sickness, looking with stubborn recalcitrance backward beyond the fever and into the disease with actual regret, weak from the fever yet free of the disease and not even aware that the freedom was that of impotence. ~ William Faulkner

The journey up to battle camp started badly.
"If you can't even load a bloody truck with all your kit properly, then you've got no bloody chance of passing what's ahead of you, I can assure you of that!" Taff, our squadron DS, barked at us in the barracks before leaving.
I, for one, was more on edge than I had ever felt so far on Selection.
I was carsick on the journey north, and I hadn't felt that since I'd been a kid heading back to school. It was nerves.
We also quizzed Taff for advice on what to expect and how to survive the "capture-initiation" phase.
His advice to Trucker and me was simple: "You two toffs just keep your mouths shut--23 DS tend to hate recruits who've been to private school."
The 23 SAS were running the battle camp (it generally alternated between 21 and 23 SAS), and 23 were always regarded as tough, straight-talking, hard-drinking, fit-as-hell soldiers. We had last been with them at Test Week all those months earlier, and rumor was that "the 23 DS are going to make sure that any 21 recruits get it the worst."
Trucker and I hoped simply to try and stay "gray men" and not be noticed. To put our heads down and get on and quietly do the work.
This didn't exactly go according to plan.
"Where are the lads who speak like Prince Charles?" The 23 DS shouted on the first parade when we arrived.
"Would you both like newspapers with your morning tea, gents?" the DS sarcastically enquired.
Part of me was tempted ~ Bear Grylls

You cannot put a rope around the neck of an idea: you can not put an idea up against a barracks-square wall and riddle it with bullets: you cannot confine it in the strongest prison cell that your slaves could ever build. ~ Sean O'Casey

Alai suddenly kissed Ender on the cheek and whispered in his ear, "Salaam." Then, red-faced, he turned away and walked to his own bed at the back of the barracks. Ender guessed that the kiss and the word were somehow forbidden. A suppressed religion, perhaps. Or maybe the word had some private and powerful meaning for Alai alone. ~ Orson Scott Card

Baseball is a lot like the Army, there aren't many individuals. About the only difference is that baseball players get to stay in nice hotels instead of barracks. ~ Bill Lee

A temple was worth a dozen barracks; a militia man carrying a gun could control a small unarmed crowd only for as long as he was present; however, a single priest could put a policeman inside the head of every one of their flock, for ever. ~ Iain M. Banks

She had been an untamed mestiza of the so-called shopkeeper aristocracy: seductive, rapacious, brazen, with a hunger in her womb that could have satisfied an entire barracks. In a few short years, however, she had been erased from the world by her abuse of fermented honey and cacao tablets. Her Gypsy eyes were extinguished and her wits dulled, she shat blood and vomited bile, her sirens body became as bloated and coppery as a three-day-old corpse, and she broke wind in pestilential explosions that startled the mastiffs. She almost never left her bedroom, and when she did she was nude or wearing a silk tunic with nothing underneath, which made her seem more naked than if she wore nothing at all. ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez

We had times in '66 and '67 when we would pick up a platoon of privates out of the receiving barracks the week before we even graduated the platoon that we were on! ~ R. Lee Ermey

Cuba has nine official National Public Holidays

January 1st - Liberation Day & New Year's
Liberation Day is also called "Triunfo de la Revolucion." This day celebrates the removal of dictator Batista from power and the start of Fidel Castro's power.
January 2nd - Victory of the Armed Forces
A holiday commemorating its revolution's history.

Good Friday
Good Friday became a national holiday following the visit of Pope Benedict XVI. The first Good Friday recognized as a holiday was in 2014, according to Granma, the Official Body Central Committee of the Communist Party of Cuba.

May 1st - International Labour Day
Called "Dia de los Trabajadores," Havana-Guide.com noted there are many celebrations this holiday, including "speeches on the 'Plaza de la Revolucion' celebrating the work force and the Communist party."

July 25th till 27th - Commemmoration of the Assault to Moncada/National Rebellion Day
This three-day long holiday remembers the 1953 capture and exile of Fidel Castro, according to VisitarCuba. This happened near Santiago in the Moncada army barracks. This week is also celebrated with carnivals in Santiago as the saint day of St. James (Santiago).

October 19th - Independence Day, "Dia de la Independencia"
Independence Day celebrates the early independence of Cuba in 1868, when Carlos Manuel Cespedes freed his slaves and began the War of Independence against Spain, accord ~ Hank Bracker

And if somehow my conduct ain't all your fancy paints, why single men in barracks don't grow into plaster saints.. From 'Tommy ~ Rudyard Kipling

Dear Mother,
. . . We have been putting in our time here at very hard drilling, and are supposed to have learned in six weeks what the ordinary recruit, in times of peace, takes all his two years at. We rise at 5, and work stops in the afternoon at 5. A twelve hours day at one sou a day. I hope to earn higher wages than this in time to come, but I never expect to work harder. The early rising hour is splendid for it gives one the chance to see the most beautiful part of these beautiful autumn days in the South. We march up to a lovely open field on the end of the ridge behind the barracks, walking right into the rising sun. From this panorama, spread about on three sides is incomparably fine - yellow cornfields, vineyards, harvest-fields where the workers and their teams can be seen moving about in tiny figures - poplars, little hamlets and church-towers, and far away to the south the blue line of the Pyrenees, the high peaks capped with snow. It makes one in love with life, it is all so peaceful and beautiful. But Nature to me is not only hills and blue skies and flowers, but the Universe, the totality of things, reality as it most obviously presents itself to us; and in this universe strife and sternness play as big a part as love and tenderness, and cannot be shirked by one whose will it is to rule his life in accordance with the cosmic forces he sees in play about him. I hope you see the thing as I do, and think that I have done well, being without responsibilities a ~ Alan Seeger

Listen, dis foreign TV channels dey spoil de image of our country. Dese white stations dey make billions of dollars to sell your war and blood to de world ... We no bad like dis. OK, why dem no dey show corpses of deir white people during crisis for TV? Abi, people no dey kill for America or Europe?"
"You dey speak grammar!" someone shouted. "Wetin concern us wid America and Europe? Abeg, give us cable TV."
"Remove dis toilet pictures!" said another.
"So our barracks be toilet now?" the police answered. "What an insult!"
"You na mad mad police," Monica said.
"Ok, cable TV no be for free anymore!" the police said.
"But it's our pictures we are watching on cable TV," Madam Aniema said. "Why should we pay you to see ourselves and our people?"
The police answered, "Because government dey complain say cable TV dey misrepresent dis religious crisis. ~ Uwem Akpan

On August 10, 1984, my plane landed in Kabul, the capital of Afghanistan. There were no skyscrapers here. The blue domes of the mosques and the faded mountains were the only things rising above the adobe duvals (the houses). The mosques came alive in the evening with multivoiced wailing: the mullahs were calling the faithful to evening prayer. It was such an unusual spectacle that, in the beginning, I used to leave the barracks to listen – the same way that, in Russia, on spring nights, people go outside to listen to the nightingales sing. For me, a nineteen-year-old boy who had lived his whole life in Leningrad, everything about Kabul was exotic: enormous skies – uncommonly starry – occasionally punctured by the blazing lines of tracers. And spread out before you, the mysterious Asian capital where strange people were bustling about like ants on an anthill: bearded men, faces darkend by the sun, in solid-colored wide cotton trousers and long shirts. Their modern jackets, worn over those outfits, looked completely unnatural. And women, hidden under plain dull garments that covered them from head to toe: only their hands visible, holding bulging shopping bags, and their feet, in worn-out shoes or sneakers, sticking out from under the hems.

And somewhere between this odd city and the deep black southern sky, the wailing, beautifully incomprehensible songs of the mullahs. The sounds didn't contradict each other, but rather, in a polyphonic echo, melted away among the ~ Vladislav Tamarov

I opposed the U.S. involvement in Lebanon. We ended up having to withdraw our marines after our barracks were blown up. ~ John Kasich

She had sworn to herself not to speak to Arin, but then he said, "You're coming with me to the harbor."
This surprised her into saying, "To do what? Why not lock me up in the barracks? It would be a perfect prison for your prize."
He continued to walk her down the halls of her home. "Unless Cheat changes his mind about you."
Kestrel imagined the auctioneer unlocking her cell door. "I suppose I'm no good to you dead."
"I would never let that happen."
"What a touching concern for Valorian life. As if you hadn't let your leader kill that woman. As if you're not responsible for the death of my friends."
They stopped before the door to Kestrel's suite. Arin faced her. "I will let every single Valorian in this city die if it means that you don't."
"Like Jess?" Her eyes swam with sudden, unshed tears. "Ronan?"
Arin looked away. The skin above his eye was beginning to blacken from where she had kicked him. "I spent ten years as a slave. I couldn't be one anymore. What did you imagine, tonight, in the carriage? That it would be fine for me to always be afraid to touch you?"
"That has nothing to do with anything. I am not a fool. You sold yourself to me with the intention of betrayal."
"But I didn't know you. I didn't know how you--"
"You're right. You don't know me. You're a stranger."
He flattened a palm against the door.
"What about the Valorian children?" she demanded. "What have you done with them? Have they been poi ~ Marie Rutkoski

Where are you staying tonight?" Caleb asked reasonably. Lily had no idea; her mind had been so full of Caleb that she hadn't thought about that. Nor had she collected her savings from the bank in Tylerville or bought the equipment she would need to wash clothes. Although the schoolmaster's cottage was a cozy little place, it would require some preparation before she could move in. "You could spend the night with me," he suggested when Lily didn't answer his question. "I've been staying in the barracks, but I have a house." She glared at him. "Forget I said anything," Caleb sighed. And he turned the buggy toward the Tibbet place. ~ Linda Lael Miller

How could he explain to her that it was better this way, that yes, an object could hold a person, that you could talk to a photograph, that you could kiss a ring, that by breathing into a harmonica, you can give voice to someone far away. But photographs can be lost. In your sleep, a ring can be slipped from your finger by the thief in your barracks. Ga had seen an old man lose the will to live - you could see it go out of him - when a prison guard made him hand over a locket. No, you had to keep the people you loved safer than that. They had to become as fixed to you as a tattoo, which no one could take away. ~ Adam Johnson

Outside events can change a presidential campaign, a president, and the history of the nation: the Iranian hostage crisis, the bombing of the Marine barracks in Beirut, the downing of the helicopter in Mogadishu, Somalia, the suicide attack on the USS Cole, and, of course, the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. ~ Mark McKinnon

From quite early on, I had this idea of compartmentalized identities - 'this is how you are when you are with your mum, and this is how you are when you are with your dad' - so it seemed like I could never absolutely be myself. And the image of myself as compromised and inconsistent made me want to withdraw from the world even further. I had a sense of formulating a paper-mache version of myself to send out in the world, while I sat controlling it remotely from some smug suburban barracks. ~ Russell Brand

The Red Keep was full of cats: lazy old cats dozing in the sun, cold-eyed mousers twitching their tails, quick little kittens with claws like needles, ladies' cats all combed and trusting, ragged shadows prowling the midden heaps. One by one Arya had chased them down and snatched them up and brought them proudly to Syrio Forel … all but this one, this one-eared black devil of a tomcat. "That's the real king of this castle right there," one of the gold cloaks had told her. "Older than sin and twice as mean. One time, the king was feasting the queen's father, and that black bastard hopped up on the table and snatched a roast quail right out of Lord Tywin's fingers. Robert laughed so hard he like to burst. You stay away from that one, child."

He had run her halfway across the castle; twice around the Tower of the Hand, across the inner bailey, through the stables, down the serpentine steps, past the small kitchen and the pig yard and the barracks of the gold cloaks, along the base of the river wall and up more steps and back and forth over Traitor's Walk, and then down again and through a gate and around a well and in and out of strange buildings until Arya didn't know where she was.

Now at last she had him. High walls pressed close on either side, and ahead was a blank windowless mass of stone. Quiet as a shadow, she repeated, sliding forward, light as a feather.

When she was three steps away from him, the tomcat bolted. Left, then right, he wen ~ George R.R. Martin

We must carry the war into every corner the enemy happens to carry it, to his home, to his centers of entertainment: a total war. It is necessary to prevent him from having a moment of peace, a quiet moment outside his barracks or even inside; we must attack him wherever he may be, make him feel like a cornered beast wherever he may move. Then his moral fiber shall begin to decline, but we shall notice how the signs of decadence begin to disappear. ~ Che Guevara

And so Betsie and I arrived in Barracks 8 in the small hours of that morning, bringing not only the Bible, but a new knowledge of the power of Him whose story it was. ~ Corrie Ten Boom

The tweezers weren't where they were supposed to be. He dug in the bottom of the kit until he found them, cursed the men on other shifts with no respect for their colleagues. It was like living in a dorm, Darcy thought. No, not the right word, the right memory. Like living in a barracks. It was the semblance of order over an underlying mess. Crisp sheets with folded corners over stained mattresses. That's what this was, people not putting things back where they belonged. ~ Hugh Howey

So that is how we came to be standing in a sparse room, in a nondescript building in the barracks at SAS HQ--just a handful out of all those who had started out so many months earlier.
We shuffled around impatiently. We were ready.
Ready, finally, to get badged as SAS soldiers.
The colonel of the regiment walked in, dressed casually in lightweight camo trousers, shirt, beret, and blue SAS belt.
He smiled at us.
"Well done, lads. Hard work, isn't it?"
We smiled back.
"You should be proud today. But remember: this is only the beginning. The real hard work starts now, when you return to your squadron. Many are called, few are chosen. Live up to that." He paused.
"And from now on for the rest of your life remember this: you are part of the SAS family. You've earned that. And it is the finest family in the world. But what makes our work here extraordinary is that everyone here goes that little bit extra. When everyone else gives up, we give more. That is what sets us apart."
It is a speech I have never forgotten.
I stood there, my boots worn, cracked, and muddy, my trousers ripped, and wearing a sweaty black T-shirt.
I felt prouder than I had ever felt in my life.
We all came to attention--no pomp and ceremony. We each shook the colonel's hand and were handed the coveted SAS sandy beret.
Along the way, I had come to learn that it was never about the beret--it was about what it stood for: camaraderie, sweat, skill, hu ~ Bear Grylls

Lanka's heart lay large barracks. ~ B.S. Murthy

Later, she didn't remember how she escaped from his grasp, or how she ended up back in her barracks, but at that moment she realized that something had started that night that changed everything. ~ Damian Wampler

8:30 P.M.: Personal time. Free of Reznik at last. We wash our jumpsuits, shine our boots, scrub the barracks floor and the latrine, clean our rifles, pass around dirty magazines, and swap other contraband like candy and chewing gum. We play cards and bust each other's nuts and complain about Reznik. We share the day's rumors and tell bad jokes and push back against the silence inside our own heads, the place where the never-ending voiceless scream rises like the superheated air above a lava flow. Inevitably ~ Rick Yancey

A barracks is meant to be a place where real soldiers were to be fed and equipped for war, not a place to settle down in or as a comfortable snuggery in which to enjoy ourselves. I hope that if ever they, our soldiers, do settle down God will burn their barracks over their heads! ~ Catherine Booth

He couldn't go into his army's barracks
he had long since learned that the best commanders stay away unless they have some reason to visit. The boys have to have a chance to be at peace, at rest, without someone listening, to favor or despise them depending on the way they talk, and act, and think. ~ Orson Scott Card