Game Night 98 Quotes

I.D.I.O.T BY NATURE HUMBLED BY GOD ! ~ Royale Gray-Lee

I wish continued success to the Foundation. You're doing an important job to help what is called 'the beautiful game'. You're helping it to expand at every level. I will always remember this very special night in Washington, D.C. ~ Lamar Hunt

On game day, until five o'clock or so, the white desert light held off the essential Sunday gloom - autumn sinking into winter, loneliness of October dusk with school the next day - but there was always a long still moment toward the end of those football afternoons where the mood of the crowd turned and everything grew desolate and uncertain, onscreen and off, the sheet-metal glare off the patio glass fading to gold and then gray, long shadows and night falling into desert stillness, a sadness I couldn't shake off, a sense of silent people filing toward the stadium exits and cold rain falling in college towns back east. ~ Donna Tartt

I left Patrick coloring in his room and darted to the living room, but then I stopped short.
Because William and Sean weren't alone.
"Bryan," I said on a gasp, drawing three sets of eyes to me. "What are you doing here?"
He didn't answer right away. His eyes were wide and surprised as he took in my appearance, trailing over my high heels, bare legs, and form-fitting silk dress. Self-consciously, I glanced at myself again, tugging on the hem.
Bryan's voice was distracted; as though he were talking to himself, he began, "Holy sh - "
"You look great." William stepped in front of his teammate and gave me a warm, if sedate, smile.
I frowned at William, then at Bryan - or what I could see of him behind William - then at Sean, who was inspecting my ceiling.
My frown deepened. "What's going on?"
"Oh," Sean chirped, imbuing his tone with forced lightness, "I just thought since you were going out, Patrick, Bryan, and I could have a men's night in. You know, go through the latest Dolce & Gabbana catalogue, play a friendly game of Mario Kart, teach Patrick how to hook in a scrum. The usual. ~ L.H. Cosway

So, based on that, we'd say you're seven weeks one day along."

I mentally pull up my calendar app in my head. "I've kept accurate records. I should be just shy of seven weeks."

"Our measurements might be off, but it's also likely that you ovulated earlier than you thought you did."

I look at Chase. "The patrol car."

"Seriously?" He lowers his voice though the room is small enough the tech can probably hear him anyway. "Neighborhood Hot Cop knocked you up?"

I giggle again at the name of the game we'd played that night. "Yep. Neighborhood Hot Cop knocked me up. ~ Laurelin Paige

AFTER HAMILTON'S DEATH, I remained at Richmond Hill for ten days. I confess that I was not prepared for the response to our interview. Apparently no one had ever fought a duel in the whole history of the United States until Aaron Burr invented this diabolic game in order to murder the greatest American that ever lived (after George Washington, of course). Over night the arrogant, mob-detesting Hamilton was metamorphosed into a Christ-like figure with me as the Judas - no, the Caiaphas who so villainously despatched the godhead to its heavenly father (George Washington again) at Weehawk, our new Jerusalem's most unlikely Golgotha. I ~ Gore Vidal

An apocryphal story - the word "apocryphal" here means "obviously untrue" - tells of two people, long ago, who were very bored, and that instead of complaining about it they sat up all night and invented the game of chess so that everyone else in the world, on evenings when there is nothing to do, can also be bored by the perplexing and tedious game they invented. ~ Lemony Snicket

His instincts told him he should stay the hell away from her. That he was on a road paved to hell, but he couldn't stay away. He'd watched her every night for a month, played a silent game with her of pretending the other didn't exist, and it never worked. He wanted to know the secret behind her eyes. He wanted to know why she carried a gun at night, ordered a glass of Johnny Walker Blue she never drank, and why she carried so much pain inside. ~ Nina D'Angelo

Even when you're keeping score, golf is all about focusing on the shot at hand, the total score being a sum of those shots. On magic mushrooms, each shot was an act of self-expression - a karate kick, a pirouette, a paintbrush stroke. The course was an aren, a stage, and a canvas.

That's the way it felt playing in the backcountry, too. Going beyond the simple visual appreciation of a landscape and interacting with it beyond the reach of the physical body. Launching shots across canyons and rivers and down mountainsides and beaches. The motion of the body determining the motion of the ball - its flight an extension of the body like a spider riding the wind on a silken thread or a perfectly cast fly arcing down onto the surface of the water.

This is the part of the game that is hard for nongolfers to see. You have to play to feel it. It isn't visible through the TV screen or from outside the picket fences and privet hedges. The forest gets lost in tress of tartan and argyle, visors and V-necks. Golf seems to be one thing but is very much another, and backcountry golf and mushroom night golf are as true to the nature of the game as any stuffy country club championship or Saturday Nassau or fourball. ~ John Dunn

The man above has given me some unbelievable abilities to play the game of basketball. I just try to take advantage of it every night. I got the trust of my teammates and my coaching staff to go in there and let it go. ~ LeBron James

Unless you're playing Who's Hiding the Ecstasy?, I don't think I'm gonna be able to make it. I've got plans. Don't married people know that the last thing a single person wants to do on a Friday night is play a nutty game of Yahtzee? I'd rather take a bubble bath with my father. ~ Chelsea Handler

I'm not him - that guy who was your boyfriend. That guy you want.He almost said: I wish I could be. He had wished he could be. That was why he had come to the Academy, to learn how to be that guy they all wanted back. He'd wanted to be that way, be an awesome hero like in a game or a movie. He'd been so sure, at first, that was what he wanted. Except wishing he could be that guy was like wishing to obliterate the guy he was now: the normal, happy guy in a band, who could still love his mother, who did not wake up in the coldest, darkest hour of the night weeping for dead friends. And he did not know if he could be that guy she wanted, whether he wished it or not. ~ Cassandra Clare

It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listens to the repeated tale, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges help, gives credit, says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the lonely, is the whole thing. What is most beautiful is least acknowledged. What is worth dying for is barely noticed. ~ Laura McBride

Making plans is a game. Life chooses for you. ~ Anita Diamant

It is far best for the Christian never to see some things, so he will never want them. The old-fashioned Christian who will not have playing cards in his house will never learn to gamble with them. One who never sees, in movies and night clubs or elsewhere, half-clothed girls, drinking, smoking, gambling, petting, making love to many men, is likely to miss being led into that kind of life by these sirens of sin. It is the Devil's game to make people think it necessary for people to know the ways of the world. ~ John R. Rice

At the start of my career, when I used to toss and turn at night, I was fighting that feeling and wanting to go to sleep. Now I know that's normal, so I'll just get up and watch TV or something. I know it's just my subconscious mind getting ready for a game. ~ Sachin Tendulkar

Day baseball is now dead for all practical purposes. Sooner or later, the game will be played in its entirety at night, and as I've said before, then baseball will be squarely in the amusement, the entertainment business along with wrestling, midget auto racing and the trotting tracks. ~ Larry MacPhail

In sleep we all die, every one of us, every day. Why wasn't that fact noted more often? When we doze off each night there's never the slightest guarantee that we'll wake the next morning. Every little cat nap is a potential game-ender. So why fear death when we are happy and even eager to make that leap of faith each and every night of our lives? ~ Adrian Barnes

Then I almost pity Judd." Leaning in, she whispered, "Make him uncomfortable. Don't take no for an answer. Push. Push him until he loses control. Remember, fire melts ice."
Brenna looked into those eerie night-sky eyes as Faith drew back. "Could be a dangerous game."
"You don't seem to be the kind of woman content with safe and easy."
"No." She also wasn't the kind of woman who gave up at the first obstacle. Judd might be categorically Psy, but she was a SnowDancer. ~ Nalini Singh

Perhaps it's something other than insomnia, to lie listening to children yelling as if they've re-created light; to try to dream, but succeed only in remembering; to toss and sweat in a dirty paste of sheets, while the drone of a ball game is gradually replaced by the buzz of a fly
a fly buzzing like the empty frequencies between stations as its shadow grows enormous between the shade and windowpane. Is it insomnia for a man to wad his ears with the cotton from a pill bottle, to mask his eyes with blinders, and press a stale pillow over his head, praying for another day to burn down, so he can wake into another night? ~ Stuart Dybek

The thing that gets me is, when I switched to doing an MBA at night while working at Bexley, he was unimpressed. Like he'd had any kind of opinion. Like I wasn't even noticed or acknowledged enough to disappoint. But I have, Over and over, my entire life. My career is a joke to him."

I'm surprised by how angry I'm getting. I think of Anthony, his face permanently twisted into a sarcastic expression,

"He's lost something special in you, Why is he like this?"

"I don't know. If I knew, maybe I could change it. He's just been that way with me, and most people. ~ Sally Thorne

I put my heart, soul and tears into the game and this is what I get. I don't know what to do. My wife can't sleep at night. I hold my daughter all night. I am ashamed I played cricket. ~ Kapil Dev

When I was little, we had a Golden Book that had all these Disney characters in one portrait on the first page. My dad used to read from it every night. We'd play this game of find Pluto or find Donald Duck. He'd read us stories and do all the voices. Those are great memories. ~ Danica McKellar

Tibet has not yet been infested by the worst disease of modern life, the everlasting rush. No one overworks here. Officials have an easy life. They turn up at the office late in the morning and leave for their homes early in the afternoon. If an official has guests or any other reason for not coming, he just sends a servant to a colleague and asks him to officiate for him.
Women know nothing about equal rights and are quite happy as they are. They spend hours making up their faces, restringing their pearl necklaces, choosing new material for dresses, and thinking how to outshine Mrs. So-and-so at the next party. They do not have to bother about housekeeping, which is all done by the servants. But to show that she is mistress the lady of the house always carries a large bunch of keys around with her. In Lhasa every trifling object is locked up and double-locked.
Then there is mah-jongg. At one time this game was a universal passion. People were simply fascinated by it and played it day and night, forgetting everything else - official duties, housekeeping, the family. The stakes were often very high and everyone played - even the servants, who sometimes contrived to lose in a few hours what they had taken years to save. Finally the government found it too much of a good thing. They forbade the game, bought up all the mah-jongg sets, and condemned secret offenders to heavy fines and hard labor. And they brought it off! I would never have believed it, but though everyon ~ Heinrich Harrer

Chess: It's like alcohol. It's a drug. I have to control it, or it could overwhelm me. I have a regular Monday night game at my home, and I do play a little online. ~ Charles Krauthammer

I'm just kind of focused on playing the game and try to get better at certain things and wipe the slate clean every night. ~ Patrick Kane

Last night I dreamed of the "happy hunting ground." I passed through a place of bones that looked human, but weren't--the skulls were wrong. Then I came to a place where the days were the best of every season, the sweetest air and water in spring, then the dry heat where deer make dust in the road, the fog of fall with good leaves. And you could shoot without a gun, never kill, but the rabbits would do a little dance, all as if it were a game, and they were playing it too. Then winter came with heavy powder-snow, and big deer, horses, goats and buffaloes--all white--snorted, tossed their heads, and I lay down with my Army blanket, made my bed in the snow, then dreamed within the dream. I dreamed I was at Fleety's, and she told me the bones were poor people killed by bandits, and she took me back to the place, and under a huge rock where no light should have shown, a cave almost, was a dogwood tree. It glowed the kind of red those trees get at sundown, the buds were purple in that weird light, and a madman came out with an axe and chopped at the skulls, trying to make them human-looking. Then I went back to the other side of both dreams. --from a letter to his mother, Helen Pancake, where he describes a dream that seems to encapsulate the play between violence and gentleness in his life. ~ Breece D'J Pancake

The broken pillar of the wing jags from the clotted shoulder,
The wing trails like a banner in defeat,

No more to use the sky forever but live with famine
And pain a few days: cat nor coyote
Will shorten the week of waiting for death, there is game without talons.

He stands under the oak-bush and waits
The lame feet of salvation; at night he remembers freedom
And flies in a dream, the dawns ruin it.

He is strong and pain is worse to the strong, incapacity is worse.
The curs of the day come and torment him
At distance, no one but death the redeemer will humble that head,

The intrepid readiness, the terrible eyes.
The wild God of the world is sometimes merciful to those
That ask mercy, not often to the arrogant.

You do not know him, you communal people, or you have forgotten him;
Intemperate and savage, the hawk remembers him;
Beautiful and wild, the hawks, and men that are dying, remember him.

II

I'd sooner, except the penalties, kill a man than a hawk;
but the great redtail
Had nothing left but unable misery
From the bone too shattered for mending, the wing that trailed under his talons when he moved.

We had fed him six weeks, I gave him freedom,
He wandered over the foreland hill and returned in the evening, asking for death,
Not like a beggar, still eyed with the old
Implacable arrogance.
Robinson Jeffers

Last night I missed two free throws which would have won the game against the best team in the state. The farm town high school I play for is nicknamed the "Indians," and I'm probably the only actual Indian ever to play for a team with such a mascot.
This morning I pick up the sports page and read the headline: INDIANS LOSE AGAIN.
Go ahead and tell me none of this is supposed to hurt me very much. ~ Sherman Alexie

I suddenly remember an old game I used to play when I was nine or ten, and I was allowed to ride my bike until it got dark. I used to make little bets with myself as I watched the sun getting lower and lower on the horizon: If I hold my breath to twenty seconds, the night won't come. If I don't blink. If I stand so still a fly lands on my cheek. Now, I find myself doing the same thing, bargaining to keep Kate, even though that isn't the way it works. ~ Jodi Picoult

Carol would not be a bad one to [settle down] with. She's pretty and bright, and maybe this is what love is. She's good company: her interests broaden almost every day. She reads three books to my one, and I read a lot. We talk far into the night. She still doesn't understand the first edition game: Hemingway, she says, reads just as well in a two-bit paperback as he does in a $500 first printing. I can still hear myself lecturing her the first time she said that. Only a fool would read a first edition. Simply having such a book makes life in general and Hemingway in particular go better when you do break out the reading copies. I listened to myself and thought, This woman must think I'm a government-inspected horse's ass. Then I showed her my Faulkners, one with a signature, and I saw her shiver with an almost sexual pleasure as she touched the paper where he signed. Faulkner was her most recent god[.] ~ John Dunning

That's what it was supposed to be, but then we started meeting up for morning workouts, which led to a joint trip to the GNC, and then we discovered we both play chess, which led to inviting him over for a game night, and then I quoted Mallrats but he didn't get it, which led to a movie enlightenment mission and several movie-at-home nights…" I trail off, leaving the "etcetera etcetera" unspoken. Huffing out an exasperated sigh, I explain, "The more we hung out together, the more couple-y we got, and before I knew it we were buying extra toothbrushes to keep at our apartments and doing silly shit like giving each other keys. Add in the most amazing porn star sex ever, and it's apparently enough for me to want to have his puppy."

"You mean baby."

"God, no. You know better than that. I'm not the nurturing type."

"Yeah, well, you also used to say you weren't the falling in love type, either."

I narrow my eyes at her. "No one likes a wise-ass, Janey."

"Maybe not, but sometimes a hard-ass like you needs a wise-ass like me. ~ Gina L. Maxwell

Mentally practice two or three times each week for about 10 to 15 minutes per rehearsal. Select a specific sports skill to further develop, or work your way though different scenarios, incorporating various game-ending situations. Examples include meeting your marathon goal time, striking out the side in the bottom of the ninth, or making the game-winning shot as the final buzzer is sounding. Mental practice sessions that are shorter in length are also beneficial. Good times include during any downtime in your schedule, the night before a competition, as an element of your pregame routine, and especially as part of a preshot routine. ~ Jim Afremow

We walked the circuit, passing the food stands frying funnel cakes and burgers, and the game booths, ceilings bristling with giant, multicolored stuffed animals. I paused in front of the crossbow game.
Nicholas cocked an eyebrow. "Want me to win you a stuffed bunny?"
"Ha." I rubbed my hands together. "I'll win my own stuffed bunny, thanks very much."
Nicholas passed the attendant a few dollars to pay for my turn. "I guess it's nice to see you use your legendary aim for something other than breaking my nose," he teased.
"The night is young," I snapped back, lifting the plastic crossbow. "This is a pathetic weapon," I muttered. "I couldn't stake an undead mouse with this thing."
"It's supposed to be a game, remember?" he whispered, laughter in his dark voice.
I fired my three shots, all crowding into the bull's-eye. With a triumphantly smug toss of my head, I looked at the openmouthed attendant. "I want the purple bunny."
He tugged it down and passed it over to me. I slipped it into my bag while Nicholas shook his head.
"Dump this loser, Lucy, and run away with me. You'll never have to win your own cross-eyed bunny again."
I grinned up at Nicholas's brother Quinn, who was smiling his charming smile, his arm draping casually over my shoulder. Hunter rolled her eyes at me from my other side.
"No way," I said. "My aim's better than yours. Plus, your girlfriend can hurt me."
"Ooh," Quinn said, winking. "Catfight. Hot." He grinn ~ Alyxandra Harvey

Q: Which party had wildest celebration and how did it play out?

1) The 1972 Dolphins Super Bowl watching party for the David Tyree catch?

2) The Jack Nicklaus day after Thanksgiving morning in 2009?

3) The NFL referee Monday night football watching party at Ed Hochuli's house for the Seattle/Green Bay game?
- Steve G., Salt Lake City

SG: Here's my theory on the day after Thanksgiving in 2009: I think Jack Nicklaus heard the news, went out and bought a bottle of 20-year-old Pappy Van Winkle, found an antique shotgun with 300 rounds of ammo, then drove to a secluded spot in the woods 25 miles away from any other human being. He got out of his car, started jumping around and screaming like he won the Super Bowl, did this for 20 solid minutes, then started swigging whiskey and shooting at things while whooping it up. Eventually, he drank the entire bottle, got back into his car and just started happily ramming into trees until the car stopped moving. Then he passed out in the driver's seat, woke up the next morning and walked home. Anyway, my answer is Jack Nicklaus. ~ Bill Simmons Grantland Mailbag Oct. 28 2012

So are you, sunshine," Paige replied. "Bad night?"
Even though he didn't take off his sunglasses, I knew he was staring straight at me.
"I've had better," he said with an entirely straight face, while I coloured up from head to toe. "I've had worse."
…
"Now, now children," Paige intervened, entirely oblivious to the extreme level of bitchy subtext flying across the table. "Let's not have fisticuffs … Can we kiss and make up?"
Nick turned up one corner of his mouth and nodded. "I'm game if you are, Vanessa."
"I think she means figuratively," I said, adding cream to my coffee. "I'm a professional."
"Really?" He rested his elbows on the table and pushed his glasses up over his eyebrows. "I probably owe you some money then. ~ Linsdey Kelk

Skip Caray was my favorite announcer as I grew up listening to the Braves on TBS and on the radio. One night, listening to a game that was headed into extra-innings, the broadcast was just breaking away to commercial when Skip said, 'Free baseball in Atlanta!' One of the best lines I've ever heard. ~ Tucker Elliot

52
The matter is not finished by going to Mecca, so long as you do not finish off the self from your heart. Sins are not shed by going to the Ganges, even though you immerse yourself hundreds of times. The matter is not finished off by going to Gaya, no matter how many offerings you make to the dead. Bullhe Shah, the matter is finished when the ego is destroyed.

53
If I search for you for you inside, then I think you are confined. If I search for you outside, then who is contained within me? You are everything, you are in everything, you are known to be free from everything. You are me and I am you, so who is poor Bullha?

54
You remain awake at night and perform your devotions. Also awake at night are dogs, better than you. They bark and in no way can they be stopped. They go and sleep on the dung heap, better than you. They do not leave their master's door, even if they get beaten with slippers, better than you. Bullhe Shah, buy yourself something for the journey, or else the game will be won by the dogs, better than you. ~ Bulleh Shah

Bilbo had never seen or imagined anything of the kind. They were high up in a narrow place, with a dreadful fall into a dim valley at one side of them. There they were sheltering under a hanging rock for the night, and he lay beneath a blanket and shook from head to toe. When he peeped out in the lightning-flashes, he saw that across the valley the stone-giants were out, and were hurling rocks at one another for a game, and catching them, and tossing them down into the darkness where they smashed among the trees far below, or splintered into little bits with a bang. Then came a wind and a rain, and the wind whipped the rain and the hail about in every direction, so that an overhanging rock was no protection at all. Soon they were getting drenched and their ponies were standing with their heads down and their tails between their legs, and some of them were whinnying with fright. They could hear the giants guffawing and shouting all over the mountainsides. ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

Now it's serious. At last it's becoming serious. So I've grown older. Was I the only one who wasn't serious? Is it our times that are not serious? I was never lonely neither when I was alone, nor with others. But I would have liked to be alone at last. Loneliness means I'm finally whole. Now I can say it as tonight, I'm at last alone. I must put an end to coincidence. The new moon of decision. I don't know if there's destiny but there's a decision. Decide! We are now the times. Not only the whole town - the whole world is taking part in our decision. We two are now more than us two. We incarnate something. We're representing the people now. And the whole place is full of those who are dreaming the same dream. We are deciding everyone's game. I am ready. Now it's your turn. You hold the game in your hand. Now or never. You need me. You will need me. There's no greater story than ours, that of man and woman. It will be a story of giants... invisible... transposable... a story of new ancestors. Look. My eyes. They are the picture of necessity, of the future of everyone in the place. Last night I dreamt of a stranger... of my man. Only with him could I be alone, open up to him, wholly open, wholly for him. Welcome him wholly into me. Surround him with the labyrinth of shared happiness. I know... it's you. ~ Wim Wenders

She remembered one of her boyfriends asking, offhandedly, how many books she read in a year. "A few hundred," she said.
"How do you have the time?" he asked, gobsmacked.
She narrowed her eyes and considered the array of potential answers in front of her. Because I don't spend hours flipping through cable complaining there's nothing on? Because my entire Sunday is not eaten up with pre-game, in-game, and post-game talking heads? Because I do not spend every night drinking overpriced beer and engaging in dick-swinging contests with the other financirati? Because when I am waiting in line, at the gym, on the train, eating lunch, I am not complaining about the wait/staring into space/admiring myself in reflective surfaces? I am reading!
"I don't know," she said, shrugging. ~ Eleanor Brown

Aiden already knew he should say his last prayers now. Lex was going to kill him. Slowly.
***
She was going to kill him. Slowly.
Lex sat on the sidelines watching the last game of the night. She hated sitting out, but she had to take her turn. ~ Camy Tang