Charlick Tent Quotes

Vijay Singh won a playoff in 2004 at Whistling Straits after a final-round 76, which was the highest last round by the winner of any major since 1938, when Reg Whitcombe won the British Open with a 78 in a storm that blew down the exhibition tent at Sandwich. ~ Dan Jenkins

As the architecture of a country always follows the earliest structures, American architecture should be a refinement of the log-house. The Egyptian is so of the cavern and the mound; the Chinese, of the tent; the Gothic, of overarching trees; the Greek, of a cabin. ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne

Hey," Chase said as he approached. "The rain sucks."
"Agreed."
His younger brother settled on a log. "I checked on the cattle. They're fine. The clouds don't look like there's going to be any lightning or thunder, but they look plenty wet."
Zane nodded. "Storm's supposed to last two days. I was hoping it would hold off until Saturday."
Chase sipped his coffee. "Everybody okay?"
There was something about the question. Zane stared at him. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing. Just checking."
Had Chase heard something in the night? Zane shook his head. Not possible. His tent had been some distance from the others, and the rain had blocked out a lot of noise. Nothing about his brother's expression told what he was thinking.
"We're heading back today, right?" Chase said.
"That's the plan. I wish it wasn't a two-day ride."
"There's--"
Chase stopped speaking and stared at his coffee. Zane knew what he'd been about to say. Reilly's place. It was only about an hour's ride. The old man would give them shelter until the worst of the storm passed, and even send out a few of his men to watch over the cattle until then.
But Zane wasn't about to impose on his neighbor. Not now and not ever.
He glanced at the sky and wondered how long he could take a stand in weather like this. Whatever his issues with Reilly, his guests' safety came first.
"I better see how everyone's doing," he said as he tossed the rest of his coffee into the f ~ Susan Mallery

And so class will some day supplant race in world affairs. Race war will then be merely a side-show to the gigantic class war which will be waged in the big tent we call the world. ~ Ralph Bunche

Like the patriarchs of old, those who profess to love God should erect an altar to the Lord wherever they pitch their tent. If ever there was a time when every house should be a house of prayer, it is now. Fathers and mothers should often lift up their hearts to God in humble supplication for themselves and their children. Let the father, as priest of the household, lay upon the altar of God the morning and evening sacrifice, while the wife and children unite in prayer and praise. In such a household Jesus will love to tarry. ~ Ellen G. White

In the eyes of her oldest friends and colleagues and extended family, she wasn't a painfully thin seventy-five-year-old gray haired woman dying of cancer- she was a grade school class president, the young friend you gossiped with, a date or double date, someone to share a tent with in Darfur, a fellow election monitor in Bosnia, a mentor, a teacher you'd laughed within a classroom or a faculty lounge, or the board member you'd groaned with after a contentious meeting ~ Will Schwalbe

Comes a day when everything you thought you had put behind you sets up its tent in the middle of what you were still hoping you could call tomorrow and yells out, 'Right this way.'

Well, here I come. ~ Laird Hunt

As we lay huddled together under the tent, which leaked considerably about the sides, with our baggage at our feet, we listened to some of the grandest thunder which I ever heard, -rapid peals, round and plump, bang, bang, bang in succession, like artillery from some fortress in the sky; and the lightning was proportionally brilliant. The Indian said, 'It must be good powder.' All for the benefit of the moose and us, echoing far over the concealed lakes. ~ Henry David Thoreau

Marguerite sighed, some of her tension leaving. "Yes, well he appears to have a strong mind."
Lissianna nodded. "I noticed. I couldn't get into his thoughts to calm him. Not at all. That's why I was feeding on him. I thought it might allow me to merge with his mind and soothe him," Lissianna explained.
"That seems to have worked well," Thomas commented with amusement. "Although I wouldn't say he was soothed exactly."
Lissianna followed his gaze to the man's groin, where an erection was pressing his dress pants upward. Even as she peered at it, the tent in his trousers slowly deflated.
"Not a cucumber then," Thomas commented lightly, and Lissianna had to bite her lip on a nervous giggle.
-Marguerite, Lissianna, & Thomas ~ Lynsay Sands

Oh, I don't wear a bathing suit. I wear a tent when I go out. ~ Greg Proops

Politically, I have a lot of differences with many I encounter here. When visiting the homes of reactionary friends and neighbors, I enjoy hiding their copies of books by Glenn Beck and other lunatics around the house while my hosts cook or adjourn to relieve themselves. Ducking into a garage to deposit the latest ravings of Ann Coulter into a bag of aging peat moss lifts the spirit as unfailingly as a summer tent revival. But I am trying to behave. I ~ George Hodgman

I made it the mantra of those days; when I paused before yet another series of switchbacks or skidded down knee-jarring slopes, when patches of flesh peeled off my feet along with my socks, when I lay alone and lonely in my tent at night I asked, often out loud: Who is tougher than me?
The answer was always the same, and even when I knew absolutely there was no way on this earth that it was true, I said it anyway: No one. ~ Cheryl Strayed

I laughed, loud enough that Delia looked up at me. She made motions for me to come over, but I pretended to be looking past her into the food tent. "Hurry. Pretend you're pointing something out so I can pretend not to see her." Luke put a hand on my shoulder and pointed with the other towards the sky. "Look, the moon." "That was the best you could come up with?" I demanded. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

A tent, a roll mat, a little bit of food, a bit of petrol in your tank and a vague idea of where you're going and that's all you need. ~ Ewan McGregor

In Africa, you can make three acres sustainable relatively easily, but 50,000 acres? It's not about picking up towels or sleeping in a tent. ~ Jochen Zeitz

I was born by the river, in a little tent, and just like the river I've been running ever since. ~ Sam Cooke

As they passed through the camp an old man, wrapped in a dark cloak, rose from a tent door where he was sitting and came towards them. "Well done! Mr. Baggins!" he said, clapping Bilbo on the back. "There is always more about you than anyone expects!" It was Gandalf. ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

Thousands of sheep, cattle, and donkeys were also cleansed through water as spoils of war and divided among the peoples. So too the thousands of shekels of items of silver, gold, bronze, and iron were purified through fire and also apportioned out to the tribes. On the final day of purification, Joshua and Caleb were getting ready to return to camp. They were in Joshua's tent eating a small meal of goat and bread. Joshua took a sip of wine from his goatskin flask. Caleb watched him closely. He had been watching Joshua closely these seven days. Joshua looked refreshed. And he looked different. Like he was a changed man from the one whose pursuit of rigid excessive holiness rose to a crescendo of self-righteous vengeance and hate. He had come to the end of himself and was crushed by his own unrighteousness. ~ Brian Godawa

Clevinger really thought he was right, but Yossarian had proof, because strangers he didn't know shot at him with cannons every time he flew up into the air to drop bombs on them, and it wasn't funny at all. And if that wasn't funny, there were lots of things that weren't even funnier. There was nothing funny about living like a bum in a tent in Pianosa between fat mountains behind him and a placid blue sea in front that could gulp down a person with a cramp in the twinkling of an eye and ship him back to shore three days later, all charges paid, bloated, blue and putrescent, water draining out through both cold nostrils. ~ Joseph Heller

Yet nightly pitch my moving tent, a day's march nearer home. ~ James Montgomery

Pasting on her most endearing smile, Bronwyn stood up and interrupted, "I must beg everyone's pardon for retiring early. I have been needing to speak with my husband all day. So, we will see you in the morning." She then looked down at Ranulf to ensure he understood that she was serious.
He arched a single brow, but said nothing as he rose to join her, ignoring the short coughs and snorts of laughter of his men. Bronwyn instantly froze as she realized what the small group-including her husband-believed she had meant. Mustering up the remnants of her pride,she forced herself to march on.
"It's nice to know you've been wanting me all day, but if you desire for us to be alone, there are more discreet ways of letting me know," Ranulf teased as he lifted the flap of their tent.
Bronwyn knew her already red face was turning an even more brilliant color, but she refused to let Ranulf believe he had totally won. "You,husband, are far more in need of a modesty lesson than I."
Ranulf let go the heavy material and then crossed his arms with a smug look of satisfaction Bronwyn wanted to both remove and indulge. "Don't believe in modesty.Never have.Kind of liking the fact that you don't either," he said, hinting at what he thought was about to come next.
Bronwyn took a step back and waved a finger. "I said I wanted to speak with you alone...about tomorrow. ~ Michele Sinclair

It often occurs that pride and selfishness are muddled with strength and independence. They are neither equal nor similar; in fact, they are polar opposites. A coward may be so cowardly that he masks his weakness with some false personification of power. He is afraid to love and to be loved because love tends to strip bare all emotional barricades. Without love, strength and independence are prone to losing every bit of their worth; they become nothing more than a fearful, intimidated, empty tent lost somewhere in the desert of self. ~ Criss Jami

To wake up on a gloriously bright morning, in a tent pitched beneath spruce trees, and to look out lazily and sleepily for a moment from the open side of the tent, across the dead camp-fire of the night before, to the river, where the light of morning rests and perhaps some early-rising[240] native is gliding in his birch canoe; to go to the river and freshen one's self with the cold water, and yell exultingly to the gulls and hell-divers, in the very joy of living; or to wake at night, when you have rolled in your blankets in the frost-stricken dying grass without a tent, and to look up through the leaves above to the dark sky and the flashing stars, and hear far off the call of a night bird or the howl of a wolf: this is the poetry, the joy of a wild and roving existence, which cannot come too often ~ Josiah Edward Spurr

The streams buck like rams in a tent / whips crack and from the hills come the crookedly combed /shadows of the shepherds. /black eggs and fools' bells fall from the trees. / thunder drums and kettledrums beat upon the ears of the donkeys. / wings brush against flowers. / fountains spring up in the eyes of the wild boar. ~ Hans Arp

While Saladin is attacking Reynald at Kerak:

"As it happens, Raynald is hosting a wedding party for his wife's son, Humphrey of Toron, and princess Isabelle, King Baldwin's half sister, who is eleven years old.The pounding continues increasingly, but the guests have traveled from all over the Latin East for this party and they are not about to put an end to the festivities over a mere Moslem attack. Finally, Lady Stephanie, Raynald's wife, has her servants take some dishes from the wedding feast to Saladin's tent. Saladin is delighted to receive the gifts and offers profuse thanks to lady Stephanie. He then ask where the newly weds will be spending the night. When the servants point out the location, Saladin orders his army not to bombard that tower until morning. ~ Paul L. Williams

Hardly had the light been extinguished, when a peculiar trembling began
to affect the netting under which the three children lay.

It consisted of a multitude of dull scratches which produced a metallic
sound, as if claws and teeth were gnawing at the copper wire. This was
accompanied by all sorts of little piercing cries.

The little five-year-old boy, on hearing this hubbub overhead, and
chilled with terror, jogged his brother's elbow; but the elder brother
had already shut his peepers, as Gavroche had ordered. Then the little
one, who could no longer control his terror, questioned Gavroche, but in
a very low tone, and with bated breath:--

"Sir?"

"Hey?" said Gavroche, who had just closed his eyes.

"What is that?"

"It's the rats," replied Gavroche.

And he laid his head down on the mat again.

The rats, in fact, who swarmed by thousands in the carcass of the
elephant, and who were the living black spots which we have already
mentioned, had been held in awe by the flame of the candle, so long as
it had been lighted; but as soon as the cavern, which was the same
as their city, had returned to darkness, scenting what the good
story-teller Perrault calls "fresh meat," they had hurled themselves in
throngs on Gavroche's tent, had climbed to the top of it, and had begun
to bite the meshes as though seeking to pierce this new-fang ~ Victor Hugo

What else did he say?"
She screwed up her face. "Oh, some weird thing about telling you that he still feels the same way about that tent, and he promises to say it to you in person next time he sees you."
I gave a bark of laughter that was more of a sob. "That asshat," I blubbered.
Elodie nodded in sympathy. "Such an asshat. ~ Rachel Hawkins

The next day's call would be vital.
Then at 12:02 P.M., the radio came to life.
"Bear at camp two, it's Neil. All okay?"
I heard the voice loud and clear.
"Hungry for news," I replied, smiling. He knew exactly what I meant.
"Now listen, I've got a forecast and an e-mail that's come through for you from your family. Do you want to hear the good news or the bad news first?"
"Go on, then, let's get the bad news over with," I replied.
"Well, the weather's still lousy. The typhoon is now on the move again, and heading this way. If it's still on course tomorrow you've got to get down, and fast. Sorry."
"And the good news?" I asked hopefully.
"Your mother sent a message via the weather guys. She says all the animals at home are well."
Click.
"Well, go on, that can't be it. What else?"
"Well, they think you're still at base camp. Probably best that way. I'll speak to you tomorrow."
"Thanks, buddy. Oh, and pray for change. It will be our last chance."
"Roger that, Bear. Don't start talking to yourself. Out."
I had another twenty-four hours to wait. It was hell. Knowingly feeling my body get weaker and weaker in the vain hope of a shot at the top.
I was beginning to doubt both myself and my decision to stay so high.
I crept outside long before dawn. It was 4:30 A.M. I sat huddled, waiting for the sun to rise while sitting in the porch of my tent.
My mind wandered to being up there--up higher on th ~ Bear Grylls

Sant Mat (the path and teachings as taught and practiced by saints) delineates the path of union of soul with the Divine. The teachings of the saints explain the re-uniting as follows:

The individual soul has descended from the higher worlds [the Realm of the Divine] to this city of illusion, bodily existence. It has descended from the Soundless state to the essence of Sound, from that Sound to Light, and finally from the realm of Light to the realm of Darkness. The qualities (dharmas, natural tendencies) of the sense organs draw us downward and away from our true nature.

The nature of the soul (atman) draws us upwards and inwards and establishes us in our own true nature. Returning to our origins involves turning inward: withdrawal of consciousness from the senses and the sense objects in order to go upward from the darkness to the realms of Light and Sound. [We experience this phenomenon of withdrawal as we pass from waking consciousness to deep sleep.] Another way to express this is to go inward from the external sense organs to the depth of the inner self. (Both of these expressions are the metaphors that signify the same movement). The natural tendencies of the soul (atman) are to move from outward to inward. The current of consciousness which is dispersed in the nine gates of the body and the senses, must be collected at the tenth gate.

The tenth gate is the gathering point of consciousness. Therein lies the path for our return. The tent ~ Swami Sant Sevi Ji Maharaj

The lapels of Sprat's many-buckled jacket were covered with buttons. Most of them belonged to bands, but a few were pretty funny. Like the one that read 'MY FAMILY'S A FREAKSHOW WITHOUT A TENT' and the one that boldly proclaimed 'I (HEART) BEING AWESOME'. Vlad pointed to the one that read 'I'M SO GOTH PEOPLE ASK ME TO AUTOGRAPH BOXES OF COUNT CHOCULA' and smirked. ~ Heather Brewer

Cozy was a fun night by a fireplace with marshmallows. Cozy was a grandmother knitting Christmas sweaters. Cozy was new puppies in a litter. Cozy was not what he had in mind to do in that tent with Tes. ~ Susannah Scott

I'm trying to figure out how to record at home because I have a tiny house and a seven-year-old and my wife also works at home. So I can't work in the house because she's trying to write, so I pitched a tent in the backyard. I'm literally trying to record in the tent. ~ Matt Berninger

Latitudinarians were "big-tent" Anglicans. The name came from the supposedly wide latitude they were willing to give to unorthodox religious opinions that a more tradition-bound Protestant might see as lax or even blasphemous. They believed Christianity should be a religion of tolerance and "reasonableness" rather than rigid dogma. ~ Arthur Herman

Life is a caravan, and on this journey we sleep in many tents. Tomorrow I shall sleep in a different tent. ~ John Speed

Margot shrugged nonchalantly and took a sip of her water. Quinn took a sip of his water, still looking at her over the end of the bottle. She was holding a Nook in her lap, and he looked down at what she was reading. As he started reading a paragraph, he almost choked on his water, slapping a hand over his mouth before he spit it all over the place. Margot looked at him, startled.
"Are you alright?" she asked, concerned.
Quinn nodded. "Fine," he wheezed. "What the hell are you reading?"
Margot grinned. "It is a romance novel," she said, completely unashamed.
"A romance novel has graphic sex in it?" he asked, bewildered.
Margot laughed. "Some of them do." She shrugged.
He frowned. "Why are you reading that?"
"It is a good book." She grinned and wagged her eyebrows at him.
Quinn's lips twitched. Dammit. He didn't want to laugh, but she was seriously cute when she wagged her eyebrows at him.
"Would you like me to read some to you?" she asked in a low sultry voice, while giving him a suggestive little wink.
Quinn swallowed hard. "No. That's okay," he croaked. If she read that book to him in her sexy French accent, he would be sporting a tent, and he doubted the rest of the people on the plane would appreciate that.
"No? The woman in it is very sexy," Margot purred, giving him a naughty smirk.
Quinn narrowed his eyes at her. Was she trying to get him worked up? Well, two could play that game. He leaned in closer ~ Andria Large

There was much talk about why the prime minister had brought back such a troublesome and unpredictable colleague, and the consensus was that he preferred to have Churchill inside the tent spitting out. ~ Ken Follett

A writer is someone who has a one-man tent in the desert and occasionally he sees the footprint of an other writer - in the form of a review or something. ~ Alan Lightman

The weather turned cool a few weeks later, and that winter was when Mia had her accident. So that actually turned out to be the last time I went camping. But even if it weren't, I still think it would be the best trip of my life. Whenever I remember it, I just picture our tent, a little ship glowing in the night, the sounds of Mia's and my whispers escaping like musical notes, floating out on a moonlit sea. ~ Gayle Forman

What's with the tent?" Cheri asked. Aunt ~ Roderick. J. Robison

The family which takes its mauve an cerise, air-conditioned, power-steered and power-braked automobile out for a tour passes through cities that are badly paved, made hideous by litter, lighted buildings, billboards and posts for wires that should long since have been put underground. They pass on into countryside that has been rendered largely invisible by commercial art. (The goods which the latter advertise have an absolute priority in our value system. Such aesthetic considerations as a view of the countryside accordingly come second. On such matters we are consistent.) They picnic on exquisitely packaged food from a portable icebox by a polluted stream and go on to spend the night at a park which is a menace to public health and morals. Just before dozing off on an air mattress, beneath a nylon tent, amid the stench of decaying refuse, they may reflect vaguely on the curious unevenness of their blessings. Is this, indeed, the American genius? ~ John Kenneth Galbraith