Eagle Strike Quotes

We have an hour before we have to leave," Cray said. "So I thought I might tell you a little about myself. I thought it might pass the time."
"I'm not really all that interested," Alex said. ~ Anthony Horowitz

I have a couple of questions," he said.
"Do, please, go ahead."
"My first one is for Yassen Gregorovich." He turned to the Russian. "Why are you working for this lunatic?"
"I sometimes think that I was richer when I was eight years old than most people will be in their lifetime!"
"Do we have to listen to this?" Alex asked. ~ Anthony Horowitz

Parental love is a matchless thing; if it weren't for that, most of us wouldn't have a pot to piss in, affectionately speaking. But even at its most irreplacable, it's still pretty cheap. Any ape loves their children; spiders lie still while theirs crawl around inside them, happy to let them eat their guts.
The only reason anybody unrelated is ever nice to anyone else, meanwhile, is as a sort of pre-emptive emotional strike - to prevent themselves from being treated as badly, potentially, as they might have treated other people. Which makes love only the lie two brains on spines tell each other, the lie that says: "You exist, because I love you. You exist, because you can see yourself in my eyes."
So we blunder from hope to hope, hollowed and searching. All of us equally incomplete.
And after all these years, still the sting comes, the liquid pressure in the chest and nose, the migraine-forerunner frown. Phantom pain. The ghost without the murder.
But what the fuck? That's all it is, ever. You want to be loved. You tell other people you love them, in order to trick them into loving you back. And after a while, it's true. You feel the pull, the ache. ~ Gemma Files

I will kneel and strike my breast, then touch the dust with my forehead; I will, I will. Only do not forsake me, oh god of beauty. ~ Theodore Dreiser

I've experienced a lot of things in baseball, but I've never been traded during a strike. At least I know I'll be in a new uniform the next time I put one on. ~ Dave Winfield

Like an eagle, dude. Like a freaking bald-assed eagle. ~ Victoria Scott

Did this mean he was about to tell her something he wouldn't normally? Her ears perked - figuratively, since her ears were now feather-covered holes in the sides of her head.
He laughed softly. "You know, you are almost enjoyable to talk to, when you do not say anything back."
She willed the water in the tub to strike him in the face.
There was a loud splash. "Hey!" He sounded surprised, but not unpleasantly so. "Interesting. You are still capable of elemental powers. But stop - or I will feed you to the castle cats."
She struck him again. ~ Sherry Thomas

I'm going out for muffins." "Give me five minutes to get my shoes on." "I don't have five minutes," I said. "I have things to do. I've got the panic button. I'll be fine. I'll bring a muffin back for you. What do you want, zucchini, no fat, no sugar, extra bran?" I turned to go and Ranger scooped me up and carried me into the bedroom and tossed me onto the bed. "Five minutes," he said, lacing his shoes. I lay there spread-eagle, waiting for him. "Very macho," I said. He grabbed my hand and yanked me to my feet. "Sometimes you try my patience. ~ Janet Evanovich

How could he have been so stupid, so blind? David pictured after Goliath could be no one but the biblical David, a special individual. He was not content to portray one man; he was seeking universal man, Everyman, all of whom,from the beginning of time,
had faced a decision to strike for freedom ~ Irving Stone

My God, whose son, as on this night, took on Him the form of man, and for man vouchsafed to suffer and bleed, controls thy hand, and without His behest, thou canst not strike a stroke. My God is sinless, eternal, all-wise, and in Him is my trust, and though stripped and crushed by thee, -though naked, desolate, void of resource- I do not despair:where the lance of Guthrum now wet with my blood, I should not despair. I watch, I toil, I hope, I pray: Jehovah, in His own time, will aid. ~ Charlotte Bronte

I did hate those people ... those false artists whose work consists of the poses they strike: saying outrageous things, cultivating complicated tastes and appetites, being artificial, irritating, unbearable. People who, in fact, take from art only what is false and external ... ~ Mario De Sa-Carneiro

And that woman was going to marry Matthew! Matthew, who had been banking on her working in human resources, with a nice salary to complement his own, who sulked and bitched about her long, unpredictable hours and her lousy paycheck . . . couldn't she see what a stupid bloody thing she was doing? Why the fuck had she put that ring back on? Hadn't she tasted freedom on that drive up to Barrow, which Strike looked back on with a fondness that discomposed him?

She's making a fucking huge mistake, that's all. ~ Robert Galbraith

Her antipathy towards Strike seemed to have evaporated. He was not surprised; he had met the phenomenon many times. People liked to talk; there were very few exceptions; the question was how you made them do it. Some, and Ursula was evidently one of them, were amenable to alcohol; others liked a spotlight; and then there were those who merely needed proximity to another conscious human being. ~ Robert Galbraith

If we stand by the eagle, fish will die; if we stand by the fish, eagle will die! This dilemma has been created by the random evolutionary process. There is no goodness, there is no justice and there is no intelligence in here. We are living in a primitive and flawed order. ~ Mehmet Murat Ildan

I think that because I'm so happy, the easiest, most minute bit of sadness will strike me like it is the hardest blow anyone has ever endured. ~ Michael Whone

The politician who once had to learn to flatter Kings has now to learn how to fascinate, amuse, coax, humbug, frighten, or otherwise strike the fancy of the electorate. ~ George Bernard Shaw

Sir Walter, being strangely surprised and put out of his countenance at so great a table, gives his son a damned blow over the face. His son, as rude as he was, would not strike his father, but strikes over the face the gentleman that sat next to him and said, "Box about: twill come to my father anon." ~ John Aubrey

It's not always so great to be objectified, but I don't feel I have much of a choice right now. I'm young in my career. I know I have to strike when the iron is hot. ~ Jessica Alba

It was a typically British birth ... I was three at the time. They had a strike in the maternity ward ... I came out in sympathy. ~ Bob Hope

Sometimes a writer's strike is good. Maybe if we had a writer's strike now, people would have to read Shakespeare instead of James Patterson. ~ Norm Macdonald

I could have gone either north or south but decided to strike off north because it was my favorite direction. ~ Alan Bradley

It is a confession that we do not have such a prodigious head as is required to answer the question what is happening, that we cannot get on top of what is happening, that we are stuck in the middle of it, in medias res, inter-esse, amazing and bewildered. We cannot soar over what is happening with philosophy's eagle-wings. What's happening has clipped our wings. ~ John D. Caputo

But listen: The weight of the camera reminds me to see. It helps me decide against deciding that my world is overly familiar, already known. I look for cracks and fissures, for the new or newly announced. I look for water to run a different color in the stream, or for the sun to strike the pond in winter with delirious force. If I can't see, then I don't know, and if I don't know, I'm not writing, and while some may question the value of words, or of memoir in particular, I will again make this claim: Words rendered true spook and spur us. They expect of us. They expect for us. Photographs do the same thing: "Your photography is a record of your living, for anyone who really sees," said Paul Strand. ~ Beth Kephart

Surely a man needs a closed place wherein he may strike root and, like the seed, become. But also he needs the great Milky Way above him and the vast sea spaces, though neither stars nor ocean serve his daily needs. ~ Antoine De Saint Exupery

Death did not first strike Adam, the first sinful man, nor Cain, the first hypocrite, but Abel, the innocent and righteous. The first soul that met with death, overcame death; the first soul that parted from earth went to heaven. Death argues not displeasure, because he whom God loved best dies first, and the murderer is punished with living. ~ Joseph Hall

The mother eagle teaches her little ones to fly by making their nest so uncomfortable that they are forced to leave it and commit themselves to the unknown world of air outside. And just so does our God to us. He stirs up our comfortable nests, and pushes us over the edge of them, and we are forced to use our wings to save ourselves from fatal falling. Read your trials in this light, and see if you cannot begin to get a glimpse of their meaning. Your wings are being developed. ~ Hannah Whitall Smith

A succubus on the set. Strike that, the health-conscious kid sister made it two ... succubuses. Succubusees? Succubi? Stupid Latin correspondence course. ~ Jim Butcher

I prefer to be in tune with my surroundings and to be aware of things. I like listening to my foot strike and my breathing. It can be quite soothing. ~ Paula Radcliffe

As a meteorite strike long ago explains the large lake now, so Amy's absence shaped everything, even when - and sometimes most particularly when - he wasn't thinking of her. ~ Richard Flanagan

If you can strike the cord of consistency on the guitar of life, the world will dance to your music of greatness ~ Osho Samuel Adetunji

11-His days in Shadbagh were numbered, like Shuja's. He knew this now. There was nothing left for him here. He had no home here. He would wait until winter passed and the spring thaw set in, and he would rise one morning before dawn and he would step out the door. He would choose a direction and he would begin to walk. He would walk as far from Shadbagh as his feet would take him. And if one day, trekking across some vast open field, despair should take hold of him, he would stop in his tracks and shut his eyes and he would think of the falcon feather Pari had found in the desert. He would picture the feather coming loose from the bird, up in the clouds, half a mile above the world, twirling and spinning in violent currents, hurled by gusts of blustering wind across miles and miles of desert and mountains, to finally land, of all places and against all odds, at the foot of that one boulder for his sister to find. It would strike him with wonder, then, and hope too, that such things happened, And though he would know better, he would take heart, and he would open his eyes, and walk. ~ Khaled Hosseini

A few days earlier, Chess and Thomas had driven to Spokane for a cheap hamburger. They walked in downtown Spokane and stumbled onto a drunk couple arguing.
"Get the fuck away from me!" the drunk woman yelled at her drunk husband, who squeezed his hand into a fist like he meant to hit her.
Thomas and Chess flinched, then froze, transported back to all of those drunken arguments they'd witnessed and survived.
The drunk couple in downtown Spokane pulled at each other's clothes and hearts, but they were white people. Chess and Thomas knew that white people hurt each other, too. Chess knew that white people felt pain just like Indians, Nerve endings, messages to the brain, reflexes. The doctor swung hammer against knee, and the world collapsed.
"You fucker!" the white woman yelled at her husband, who opened his hands and held them out to his wife. An offering. That hand would not strike her. He pleaded with his wife until she fell back into his arms. That white woman and man held each other while Chess and Thomas watched. A hundred strangers walked by and never noticed any of it.
After that, Chess and Thomas had sat in the van in a downtown parking lot. Thomas began to weep, deep ragged tears that rose along his rib cage, filled his mouth and nose, and exploded out. ~ Sherman Alexie

Strike against war, for without you no battles can be fought! ~ Helen Keller

Now, Reverend Father Abbot asked me to make the following announcements:

"First, for the next three days we shall sing the Little Office of Our Lady before Matins, asking her intercession for peace.

"Second, general instructions for civil defense in the event of a space-strike or missile-attack alert are available on the table by the entrance. Everybody take one. ~ Walter M. Miller Jr.

Leigh [ Bowery] would make up stories about people committing suicide or going on hunger strikes because they were refused entry at the door. ~ Boy George

Some writers are the kind of solo violinists who need complete silence to tune their instruments. Others want to hear every member of the orchestra - they'll take a cue from a clarinet, from an oboe, even. I am one of those. My writing desk is covered in open novels. I read lines to swim in a certain sensibility, to strike a particular note, to encourage rigour when I'm too sentimental, to bring verbal ease when I'm syntactically uptight. I think of reading like a balanced diet; if your sentences are baggy, too baroque, cut back on fatty Foster Wallace, say, and pick up Kafka, as roughage. If your aesthetic has become so refined it is stopping you from placing a single black mark on white paper, stop worrying so much about what Nabokov would say; pick up Dostoyevsky, patron saint of substance over style. ~ Zadie Smith

You try never to strike anyone, but when you must, you strike only one blow, but such a harsh one that your enemy can never, never strike back. ~ Orson Scott Card