Sam Temple In Charge Quotes

You're supposed to be the big boss."
Sam said nothing. The crowd hushed, ready to watch this one-on-one confrontation.
"You're the big boss of the freaks," Zil yelled. "But you can't do anything. You can shoot laser beams out of your hands, but you can't get enough food, and you can't keep the power on, and you won't do anything about that murderer Hunter, who killed my best friend." He paused to fill his lungs for a final, furious cry. "You shouldn't be in charge."
"You want to be in charge, Zil? Last night you were running around trying to get a lynch mob together. And let's not even pretend that wasn't you responsible for graffiti I saw driving into town just now."
"So what?" Zil demanded. "So what? So I said what everyone who isn't a freak is thinking."
He spit the word "freak," making it an insult, making it an accusation.
"You really think what we need right now is to divide up between freaks and normals?" Sam asked. "You figure that will get the lights turned back on? That will put food on people's tables? ~ Michael Grant

What happened?" Albert asked.
Taylor looked at Sam. Sam said nothing. He stared. First at his own light, hovering in the air. Then at Taylor. He looked pale and almost frail. Like he was suddenly a much, much older person.
"Kid was whipped," Taylor said. "It looked like what happened to Sam."
Sam lowered his head and wrapped his hands behind his neck. He seemed to be trying to hold on to his head, pressing it hard like it might explode. ~ Michael Grant

Quinn came forward and Sam pulled him aside. His old friend looked tortured and sad.
"What's up, brah?" Sam asked.
Quinn couldn't speak. He was choked with emotion. "Dude . . ."
"You want to stay in town."
"My crews . . . my boats and all . . ."
Sam put a hand on his shoulder. "Quinn, I'm glad you found something so important to do. Something you really like."
"Yeah, but . . ."
Sam pulled him into a brief hug. "You and me, we're still friends, man. But you have responsibilities. ~ Michael Grant

Here's the thing, people: We have some serious problems. The lights are off. And it seems like that's affecting the water flow in part of town. So, no baths or showers, okay? But the situation is that we think Caine is short of food, which means he's not going to be able to hold out very long at the power plant."
"How long?" someone yelled.
Sam shook his head. "I don't know."
"Why can't you get him to leave?"
"Because I can't, that's why," Sam snapped, letting some of his anger show. "Because I'm not Superman, all right? Look, he's inside the plant. The walls are thick. He has guns, he has Jack, he has Drake, and he has his own powers. I can't get him out of there without getting some of our people killed. Anybody want to volunteer for that?"
Silence.
"Yeah, I thought so. I can't get you people to show up and pick melons, let alone throw down with Drake."
"That's your job," Zil said.
"Oh, I see," Sam said. The resentment he'd held in now came boiling to the surface. "It's my job to pick the fruit, and collect the trash, and ration the food, and catch Hunter, and stop Caine, and settle every stupid little fight, and make sure kids get a visit from the Tooth Fairy. What's your job, Zil? Oh, right: you spray hateful graffiti. Thanks for taking care of that, I don't know how we'd ever manage without you."
"Sam…," Astrid said, just loud enough for him to hear. A warning.
Too late. He was going to say what needed saying.
"And t ~ Michael Grant

Without reverence we [people] will gradually descend into ecocide. In the degree that the imperatives of the market - the temple of the Mall - govern our lives, we are in escalating danger of destroying the commonwealth of all sentient beings - bugs and bees and buntings - on which we depend for a luxurious life on planet earth. ~ Sam Keen

Sam, I know you're upset over what happened with you and Drake," Astrid began.
"Upset?" Sam echoed the word with an ironic smirk.
"But that's no excuse for you keeping secrets from us."
"Yeah," Howard said, "Don't you know only Astrid is allowed to keep secrets?"
"Shut up, Howard," Astrid snapped.
"Yeah, we get to lie because we're the smart ones," Howard said. "Not like all those idiots out there."
Astrid turned her attention back to Sam. "This is not okay, Sam. The council has the responsibility. Not you alone."
Sam looked like he could not care less about what she was saying. He looked almost beyond reach, indifferent to what was going on around him.
"Hey," Astrid said. "We're talking to you."
That did it. His jaw clenched. His head snapped up. His eyes blazed. "Don't push me. That wasn't you with your skin whipped off and covered in blood. That was me. That was me who went down into that mine shaft to try to fight the gaiaphage."
Astrid blinked. "No one is minimizing what you've done, Sam. You're a hero. But at the same time - "
Sam was on his feet. "At the same time? At the same time you were here in town. Edilio had a bullet in his chest. Dekka was torn to pieces. I was trying not to scream from the…You and Albert and Howard, you weren't there, were you?"
"I was busy standing up to Zil, trying to save Hunter's life," Astrid yelled.
"But it wasn't you and your big words, was it? It was Orc who stopped Zil. ~ Michael Grant

And he thought of the two people who had held his job before him: Sam and Astrid. Both beaten into despair by trying to hold this group of kids together in the face of one disaster after another. Both of them now happy to let Edilio handle it.
"No wonder," Edilio muttered.
"Stay inside unless absolutely necessary," Edilio shouted, and not for the first or last time wished he was still just Sam's faithful sidekick. ~ Michael Grant

Well, well, well. The mighty Uthman-ul-Dosht comes with mercy, and offers peace. These are strange times we live in, eh, Tulkis? Have the Gurkish learned to love their enemies? Or simply fear them?'
'One need not love one's enemy, or even fear him, to desire peace. One need only love oneself.'
'Is that so?'
'It is. I lost two sons in the wars between our peoples. One at Ulrioch in the last war. He was a priest, and burned in the temple there. The other died not long ago, at the siege of Dagoska. He led the charge when the first breach was made.'
Glokta frowned and stretched out his neck. A hail of flatbow bolts. Tiny figures, falling in the rubble. 'That was a brave charge.'
'War is harshest on the brave. ~ Joe Abercrombie

Sam, no!" Edilio snapped.
Sam missed a step, then stopped. He looked at Edilio, puzzled.
"We're scattered. And we can't risk you. You die and the light dies with you."
"Are you out of your mind? You think I'm going to let Drake come in here and take Diana?"
"Not you, Sam. Dekka, yes. Orc, yes. He's out there, too. And send Jack as well. Anyone but you."
Sam looked like he'd been punched. Like someone had knocked the wind out of him. He blinked and started to say something and stopped.
"You aren't replaceable, Sam. Figure it out, okay? It's going dark and you make light. So this isn't going to be your battle. Not now. It's on the rest of us to step up. ~ Michael Grant

Don't waste your time trying to look all bad at me. See, I know you, man," Howard said. "School Bus Sam. Mr. Fireman. You go all heroic, but then you disappear. Don't you? It kind of comes and goes with you. Everyone last night is all, 'Where's Sam? Where's Sam?' And I had to say, 'Well, kids, Sam is off with Astrid the Genius because Sam can't be hanging out with regular people like us. Sam has to go off with his hot blond girlfriend.'"
"She's not my girlfriend," Sam said, and instantly regretted it.
Howard laughed, delighted to have provoked him. "See, Sam, you always got to be in your own little world, too good for everyone, while me and Captain Orc and our boys here, we're always going to be around. You step away, and we step up. ~ Michael Grant

They closed the door on the cabin. There wasn't room enough for them to stand, so they fell into each other's arms on the bunk.
Sam kissed her and tried not to think that it was for the last time.
He was happy. That was the hell of it. He was finally happy. Right here, right now, in this place, with this girl in his arms, he was happy. Was that why he felt the hammer about to fall on him? No, that was crazy. He was happy. Happiness didn't mean that tragedy was coming around the corner. Did it? ~ Michael Grant

Astrid found the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it up over his head. She unbuckled his belt and shoved his jeans to the deck. She pushed him, gently but insistently, onto the bed. Then she undressed herself and stood in the faint light, looking down at him as he gazed up at her.
"You're giving me a reason to live," he said, half joking.
"I'm just recapturing the mood," she said, trying to make it sound light and sexy.
"You captured me a long time ago."
She climbed atop him. "We walk out of this together, Sam. Whatever it takes. You and me."
"You and me," he said.
She would not yet let him have her. "Whatever it takes," she insisted. "Say it."
"You and me," he said at last. "Whatever it takes."
"Swear it. ~ Michael Grant

Sam. Brianna is dead."
He just stared at her. Then, in a soft, almost childlike voice, he said, "Breeze?"
"She stopped Gaia. It looked like Brianna almost killed her. The second time she . . . But this time . . ."
There were tears in Sam's eyes. "My God. How is Dekka?"
"Like you'd expect. Destroyed. Roger's dead, too, so Edilio . . . It's been really bad, Sam. Really bad. It's like we're in a war."
"We are. ~ Michael Grant

Sam Temple kept a lower profile. He stuck to jeans and understated T-shirts, nothing that drew attention to himself. He had spent most of his life in Perdido Beach, attending this school, and everybody knew who he was, but few people were quite sure what he was. He was a surfer who didn't hang out with surfers. He was bright, but not a brain. He was good-looking, but not so that girls thought of him as a hottie.
The one thing most kids knew about Sam Temple was that he was School Bus Sam. He'd earned the nickname when he was in seventh grade. The class had been on the way to a field trip when the bus driver had suffered a heart attack. They'd been driving down Highway 1. Sam had pulled the man out of his seat, steered the bus onto the shoulder of the road, brought it safely to a stop, and calmly dialed 911 on the driver's cell phone.
If he had hesitated for even a second, the bus would have plunged off a cliff and into the ocean.
His picture had been in the paper. ~ Michael Grant

Astrid and Taylor didn't like each other much. But Taylor was an extremely valuable person to have around. She had the ability to instantly transport herself from place to place. To "bounce," as she called it.
The enmity between them went back to Astrid's belief that Taylor had a crush of major proportions on Sam. No doubt Taylor would figure she had a golden opportunity now.
Not Sam's type, Astrid told herself. Taylor was pretty but a bit younger, and not nearly tough enough for Sam, who, despite what he might be thinking right now, liked strong, independent girls.
Brianna would be more Sam's style, probably. Or maybe Dekka, if she were straight.
Astrid shoved the list away irritably. Why was she torturing herself like this? Sam was a jerk. But he would come around. He would realize sooner or later that Astrid was right. He would apologize. And he'd move back in. ~ Michael Grant

You're not others."
"No?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I love you."
Astrid was silent for so long, Sam thought he must have upset her. Yet she never loosened her hold on him, never pulled away but kept her face buried in his neck. He felt her warm tears on his skin. And at last she said, "I love you, too. ~ Michael Grant

Then, Zil and a half dozen of his crew swaggered into the plaza from the far side. Astrid clenched her jaw. Would the crowd turn on them? She almost hoped so. People thought because she wouldn't let Sam go after Zil she must not really despise the Human Crew's Leader. That was wrong. She hated Zil. Hated everything he had done and everything he had tried to do.
Edilio moved quickly between Zil and a few of the boys who had started toward him, sticks and knives at the ready.
Zil's kids were armed with knives and bats, and so were those who wanted to take them on. Edilio was armed with an assault rifle.
Astrid hated that this was what life so often came down to: my weapon is bigger than your weapon.
If Sam were here it would be about his hands. Everyone had either seen what Sam could do, or heard the stories retold in vivid detail. No one challenged Sam. ~ Michael Grant

Lana's going through them one at a time. Healing them. She's amazing."
Sam thought he heard something extra in Edilio's voice. "She's cute too, huh Edilio?"
Edilio's eyes went wide and started blushing. "She's just...you know..."
Sam slapped his shoulder. "Good luck with that."
"You think she...I mean, you know me, I'm just..." Edilio stammered his way to a stop.
"Dude, let's see if we can stay alive. Then you can ask her out or whatever. ~ Michael Grant

How do we stop them?" Edilio asked. He raised his head, and Sam saw the distress on his face. "How do you think we stop them? When your fifteenth birthday rolls around, the easy thing is to take the poof. You gotta fight to resist it. We know that. So how are we going to tell kids this isn't real, this Orsay thing?"
"We just tell them," Astrid said.
"But we don't know if it's real or not," Edilio argued.
Astrid shrugged. She stared at nothing and kept her features very still. "We tell them it's all fake. Kids hate this place, but they don't want to die."
"How do we tell them if we don't know?" Edilio seemed genuinely puzzled.
Howard laughed. "Deely-O, Deely-O, you are such a doof sometimes." He put his feet down and leaned toward Edilio as if sharing a secret with him. "She means: We lie. Astrid means that we lie to everyone and tell them we do know for sure."
Edilio stared at Astrid like he was expecting her to deny it.
"It's for people's own good," Astrid said in a low voice, still looking at nothing.
"You know what's funny?" Howard said, grinning. "I was pretty sure we were coming to this meeting so Astrid could rank on Sam for not telling us the whole truth. And now, it turns out we're really here so Astrid can talk us all into becoming liars. ~ Michael Grant

All that Socrates could effect by way of protest against the tyranny of the reformed democracy was to die for his convictions. The Stoics could only advise the wise man to hold aloof from politics, keeping the unwritten law in his heart. But when Christ said: "Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's," those words, spoken on His last visit to the Temple, three days before His death, gave to the civil power, under the protection of conscience, a sacredness it had never enjoyed, and bounds it had never acknowledged; and they were the repudiation of absolutism and the inauguration of freedom. For our Lord not only delivered the precept, but created the force to execute it. To maintain the necessary immunity in one supreme sphere, to reduce all political authority within defined limits, ceased to be an aspiration of patient reasoners, and was made the perpetual charge and care of the most energetic institution and the most universal association in the world. The new law, the new spirit, the new authority, gave to liberty a meaning and a value it had not possessed in the philosophy or in the constitution of Greece or Rome before the knowledge of the truth that makes us free. ~ John Emerich Edward Dalberg-Acton

I'll tell you all about it, but let's eat first. I've had nothing to eat. Although I was offered some raw squirrel. Canned pudding, that's what I want. I've been dreaming about it."
She hauled out a can and feverishly worked the can opener. She didn't wait for a dish or spoon, but thrust her hand in and scooped some into her mouth. Then she stood transfixed, overwhelmed by the wonderful sweetness of it.
She was crying when she said, "I'm sorry, I've forgotten how to be polite. I'll get you guys your own can."
Sam hobbled over and scooped some pudding of his own, following her lead. "I'm way past polite myself," he said, although she could see he was a little appalled by her wolfish behavior. She decided then that she liked him. ~ Michael Grant

Diana can read power levels," Astrid said. "Did she ever…"
Sam nodded. "She said the baby is a three bar. As a fetus. Who knows what it will be when it's born. Or as it grows. Diana's only, like, four or five months along. I should know exactly, but I forget. When she would talk about it I would kind of, you know." He made a shivering move, like it all gave him the creeps.
Astrid shook her head in disbelief. "Really. That's the part of all this that makes you squirm: pregnancy."
"She made me touch her, you know, stomach. And she talked about her, um, her things." He pointed at his chest and whispered, "Nipples."
"Yeah," Astrid said dryly. "I could see where that would be devastating. ~ Michael Grant

Hey, Sam," Drake shouted. "I thought you'd like to know this isn't my whole army."
Sam didn't doubt it.
"Your girl Brianna tried to stop us." Drake waved a bowie knife in the air. "I took this from her. I whipped her, Sam." He snapped his whip hand. The crack was like a pistol shot. "I broke her legs so she couldn't run. Then . . ."
Dekka was halfway over the side, ready to swim ashore. Jack grabbed her and held her.
"Let me go!" Dekka yelled.
"Hold her," Sam ordered Jack. "Don't be stupid, Dekka. He wants us to come rushing at him."
"I can beat him," Jack said. "Dekka and me together, we can kill him."
Sam registered the fact that Jack was actually making a physical threat. He didn't remember ever hearing that kind of thing from Jack. But Dekka was Sam's greater concern.
"I'm going to kill him," Dekka said in a voice so deep in her throat she sounded like an animal. "I'll kill him. I'll kill him." Then she shouted, "I'm going to kill you, Drake. I'm going to kill you!"
Drake grinned. "I think she liked it. She was screaming, but she liked it."
"He's lying," Toto said.
"Who?" Sam snapped.
"Him." He pointed at Drake. "He hasn't killed that girl or hurt her."
Dekka relaxed and Sam and Jack let go of her.
"Truth-teller Toto," Sam whispered. "He can tell when people are lying."
"I just decided I like you," Dekka said to Toto. "You might be useful."
Toto frowned. "It's true: you just decided you like m ~ Michael Grant

No offense, Sam, but you're going off the road. Off the road! Sam! You're going off the road!"
"No, I'm not; shut up," Sam snapped as he guided the huge truck back onto the road, narrowly avoiding overturning in the ditch.
"This is how I'm going to die," Jack said. "Crammed in like this in a ditch."
"Oh, please," Sam said. "You're strong enough to tear your way out even if we did crash."
"Do me a favor and rescue me, too, ~ Michael Grant

Albert had created a currency based on gold bullets and McDonald's game pieces. He'd wanted to call the currency something else, but no one remembered what. So, 'Bertos they were, a play on "Albert," coined by Howard, of course, who had also come up with "the FAYZ" to describe their weird little world.
Sam had thought Albert was nuts with his obsession with creating money. But the evidence was in: Albert's system was producing just enough food for kids to survive. And a lot more kids were working. Far fewer were just hanging out. It was no longer impossible to get kids to go into the fields and do the backbreaking work of picking crops. They worked for 'Bertos and spent 'Bertos, and for now at least starvation was just a bad memory. ~ Michael Grant

About time," Brianna said.
"Hey, sorry, we were kind of busy," Quinn snapped. "And I didn't exactly realize I was on a schedule."
"I don't like what I have to do here," Brianna said. She handed Quinn the note.
He read it. Read it again.
"Is this some kind of joke?" he demanded.
"Albert's dead," Brianna said. "Murdered."
"What?"
"He's dead. Sam and Dekka are off in the wilderness somewhere. Edilio's got the flu, he might die, a lot of kids have. A lot. And there are these, these monsters, these kind of bugs . . . no one knows what to call them . . . heading toward town." Her face contorted in a mix of rage and sorrow and fear. She blurted, "And I can't stop them!"
Quinn stared at her. Then back at the note.
He felt his contented little universe tilt and go sliding away.
There were just two words on the paper: "Get Caine. ~ Michael Grant

As Sam came to a panting stop, a jet of orange flame burst from a high window.
Several dozen kids were standing, watching. A crowd that struck Sam as very strange, until he realized why it was strange: there were no adults, just kids.
"Is anyone in there?" Astrid called out. No one answered.
"It could spread," Sam said.
"There's no 911," someone pointed out.
"If it spreads, it could burn down half the town."
"You see a fireman anywhere?" A helpless shrug.
The day care shared a wall with the hardware store, and both were only a narrow alley away from the burning building. Sam figured they had time to get the kids out of the day care if they acted fast, but the hardware store was something they could not afford to lose.
There had to be forty kids just standing there gawking. No one seemed about to start doing anything.
"Great," Sam said. He grabbed two kids he sort of knew. "You guys, go to the day care. Tell them to get the littles out of there."
The kids stared at him without moving.
"Now. Go. Do it!" he said, and they took off running.
Sam pointed at two other kids. "You and you. Go into the hardware store, get the longest hose you can find. Get a spray nozzle, too. I think there's a spigot in that alley. Start spraying water on the side of the hardware store and up on the roof."
These two also stared blankly. "Dudes: Not tomorrow. Now. Now. Go! Quinn? You better go with them. We want to wet down the hardware - ~ Michael Grant

Sam Temple was taken by helicopter to a hospital in Los Angeles, where there were specialists there in burn injuries. He wasn't consulted: he was found on his knees, obviously in shock, extensively burned. EMTs took over.
Astrid Ellison was taken to a hospital in Santa Barbara, as was Diana Ladris.
Other kids were shared out among half a dozen hospitals. Some specialized in plastic surgery, others in the effects of starvation.
Over the next week all were seen by psychiatrists once their immediate physical injuries were addressed. Lots of psychiatrists. And when they weren't being seen by psychiatrists, they were being seen by FBI agents, and California Highway Patrol investigators, and lawyers from the district attorney's office.
The consensus seemed to be that a number of the Perdido survivors, as they were now known, would be prosecuted for crimes ranging from simple assault to murder.
First on that list was Sam Temple. ~ Michael Grant

Albert, I don't know how long we can keep Sam involved at all," she said.
"You're upset," Albert replied.
"Yes, I'm upset. But that's not the point. Sam is out of control. If we're ever going to have a working system we may have to find someone else to play the role of savior."
Albert sighed. "Astrid, we don't know what's out there in the night. And maybe you're right that Sam is out of control. But me? I'm really glad it's him out there getting ready to face whatever it is."
Albert picked up his omnipresent notebook and left.
To a now empty, silent room, Astrid said, "Don't die, Sam. Don't die. ~ Michael Grant

At the moment that target was eating tacos his mother had brought in despite hospital orders against outside food.
"Oh, God, this is good," Sam said as juicy beef and crisp lettuce dribbled out onto the tray on his lap.
"Still not tired of eating?" Connie asked him.
"I will never be tired of eating. I'm going to eat until I'm huge. Food, hot water, clean sheets. At least I'll get those three in prison. ~ Michael Grant

Hunter's dead," Taylor said without preamble. "It was these . . . these things. They came crawling up out of him and were eating him, oh God, I mean, it was like . . . I mean he was crying and Dekka prayed with him and he tried to fry his own brain just like he did with Harry only I guess it didn't work, I guess he couldn't do it, so Sam . . ." She swallowed. "Anyone have some water?"
"What about Sam?" Astrid demanded.
"He did it for him. Sam. I mean, he . . . Hunter was, you know . . . so Sam." She pantomimed raising her hands, like Sam, like he would do when using his power.
Astrid closed her eyes and crossed herself.
"Rest in peace," Edilio said and crossed himself as well.
"Sam burned the boy?" Howard asked. Then, bitterly sarcastic said, "Yeah, you all pray to Jesus. Because Jesus is really providing a lot of help here. Sounds to me like Sam was the one doing what had to be done. ~ Michael Grant

Squared my shoulders. "Release the Kraken!" Several sets of eyes settled on me. "What?" I gave a lopsided shrug. "I've always wanted to yell that since I saw that movie. Seemed like the perfect moment." Aiden laughed. "See! That's why I love him," I told the group. "He laughs at the stupid crap that comes out of my mouth." In response, Aiden leaned over and pressed his lips against my temple. "Keep talking about loving me," he murmured, "and we're going to scar some of these guys for life." I ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

After the destructionofthe Second Temple Jewslived by an ancient and fundamental insight, that God does not live in buildings but in the human heart. ~ Jonathan Sacks

Some souls think that the Holy Spirit is very far away, far, far, up above. Actually he is, we might say, the divine Person who is most closely present to the creature. He accompanies him everywhere. He penetrates him with himself. He calls him, he protects him. He makes of him his living temple. He defends him. He helps him. He guards him from all his enemies. He is closer to him than his own soul. All the good a soul accomplishes, it carries out under his inspiration, in his light, by his grace and his help. ~ Concepcion Cabrera De Armida

I did say that to deny the existence of evil spirits, or to deny the existence of the devil, is to deny the truth of the New Testament; and that to deny the existence of these imps of darkness is to contradict the words of Jesus Christ.

I did say that if we give up the belief in devils we must give up the inspiration of the Old and New Testaments, and we must give up the divinity of Christ. Upon that declaration I stand, because if devils do not exist, then Jesus Christ was mistaken, or we have not in the New Testament a true account of what he said and of what he pretended to do.

If the New Testament gives a true account of his words and pretended actions, then he did claim to cast out devils. That was his principal business. That was his certificate of divinity, casting out devils. That authenticated his mission and proved that he was superior to the hosts of darkness.

Now, take the devil out of the New Testament, and you also take the veracity of Christ; with that veracity you take the divinity; with that divinity you take the atonement, and when you take the atonement, the great fabric known as Christianity becomes a shapeless ruin.

The Christians now claim that Jesus was God. If he was God, of course the devil knew that fact, and yet, according to this account, the devil took the omnipotent God and placed him upon a pinnacle of the temple, and endeavored to induce him to dash himself against the earth…

Think of it! T ~ Robert G. Ingersoll

I'm a capitalist but one who is smallist and localist, and who favours businesses where owners are still in charge. ~ Nassim Nicholas Taleb

One of the most beautiful sights in my neighborhood is on High Holy Days when people walk to temple. Not only does this bring the traditional legendary weather, but it gives off a psychic signal to slow down. ~ George Vecsey

I think that you can't make a movie without a script. But you also can't make movies without actors. You also can't make movies without technicians. And there has to be just one person in charge of everybody, and to me that one person is the director. ~ John Frankenheimer

Back out of all this now too much for us,
Back in a time made simple by the loss
Of detail, burned, dissolved, and broken off
Like graveyard marble sculpture in the weather,
There is a house that is no more a house
Upon a farm that is no more a farm
And in a town that is no more a town.
The road there, if you'll let a guide direct you
Who only has at heart your getting lost,
May seem as if it should have been a quarry -
Great monolithic knees the former town
Long since gave up pretense of keeping covered.
And there's a story in a book about it:
Besides the wear of iron wagon wheels
The ledges show lines ruled southeast-northwest,
The chisel work of an enormous Glacier
That braced his feet against the Arctic Pole.
You must not mind a certain coolness from him
Still said to haunt this side of Panther Mountain.
Nor need you mind the serial ordeal
Of being watched from forty cellar holes
As if by eye pairs out of forty firkins.
As for the woods' excitement over you
That sends light rustle rushes to their leaves,
Charge that to upstart inexperience.
Where were they all not twenty years ago?
They think too much of having shaded out
A few old pecker-fretted apple trees.
Make yourself up a cheering song of how
Someone's road home from work this once was,
Who may be just ahead of you on foot
Or creaking with a buggy load of grain.< ~ Robert Frost

If we are not able to fix the Lord firmly in our hearts, even a lifetime of temple-going does not do us any good. ~ Mata Amritanandamayi

Nestor said to me. "A
row of Hussars on horseback will come to take me. What will it be for you?"
I remembered don Juan telling me once that death might be behind anything imaginable, even
behind a dot on my writing pad. He gave me then the definitive metaphor of my death.
I had told him that once while walking on Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles I had heard
the sound of a trumpet playing an old, idiotic popular tune. The music was coming from a
record shop across the street.
Never had I heard a more beautiful sound. I became enraptured by it. I had to sit down on the
curb. The limpid brass sound of that trumpet was going directly to my brain. I felt it just
above my right temple. It soothed me until I was drunk with it.
When it concluded, I knew that there would be no way of ever repeating that experience, and I
had enough detachment not to rush into the store and buy the record and a stereo set to play it
on.
Don Juan said that it had been a sign given to me by the powers that rule the destiny of men.
When the time comes for me to leave the world, in whatever form, I will hear the same sound
of that trumpet, the same idiotic tune, the same peerless trumpeter. ~ Carlos Castaneda

The Seeking of the Master. Musa Najib was asked why he charged a fee from those who came to his sessions; and why he often did not even address his audience. He said: 'I charge for this object lesson: people believe that knowledge must be given freely, and consequently mistake everything which is free for knowledge. I do not always lecture because, among Sufis, "The Master finds the pupil." The pupil has to be physically present: but he may be absent in every other sense. When I discern that a pupil is "present" then I "find" him, for then his inner call is audible to me, even if it is silent to him.' 'Seek and you will be found. ~ Idries Shah

The very purpose of designing the Temple of Jerusalem as a series of ever more restrictive ingressions was to maintain the priestly monopoly over who can and cannot come into the presence of God and to what degree. The sick, the lame, the leper, the "demon-possessed," menstruating women, those with bodily discharges, those who had recently given birth - none of these were permitted to enter the Temple and take part in the rituals unless first purified according to the priestly code. With every leper cleansed, every paralytic healed, every demon cast out, Jesus was not only challenging that priestly code, he was invalidating the very purpose of the priesthood. ~ Reza Aslan

things started getting better when the people of West Point slum starting singing "No one is coming to save us!" It was a turning point. It meant they understood that local leaders were their best hope for surival. The people were finally in charge of their own future. The story turned from being about the failure of outsiders to the success of community resilience. And in the coming months when West Point slum's death toll fell far short of projections, citizens and local leaders could look at each other and say, "We did this ourselves! ~ Marc Maxmeister

And the ladies dressed in red for my pain and with my pain latched onto my breath, clinging like the fetuses of scorpions in the deepest crook of my neck, the mothers in red who sucked out the last bit of heat that my barely beating heart could give me - I always had to learn on my own the steps you take to drink and eat and breathe, I was never taught to cry and now will never learn to do this, least of all from the great ladies latched onto the lining of my breath with reddish spit and floating veils of blood, my blood, mine alone, which I drew myself and which they drink from now after murdering the king whose body is listing in the river and who moves his eyes and smiles, though he's dead and when you're dead, you're dead, for all the smiling you do, and the great ladies, the tragic ladies in red have murdered the one who is floating down the river and I stay behind like a hostage in their eternal custody.

I want to die to the letter of the law of the commonplace, where we are assured that dying is the same as dreaming. The light, the forbidden wine, the vertigo. Who is it you write for? The ruins of an abandoned temple. If only celebration were possible. A mournful vision, splintered, of a garden of broken statues.

Numb time, time like a glove upon a drum. The three who compete in me remain on a shifting point and we neither are nor is. My eyes used to find rest in humiliated, forsaken things. Nowadays I see with them; I've seen and approved of no ~ Alejandra Pizarnik

You'll notice all around the Hindu temples couples, statues and drawings, in various erotic forms of love-making. This used to give the British a lot of trouble because they were kind of white and uptight. It didn't quite fit. How could a temple of God be covered with pictures of people, in their term, fornicating? ~ Frederick Lenz

Reality does get a bad rap. But I'm not concerned about it 'cause I know who I am. They can edit it, but you are in charge of what you do. ~ Niecy Nash

If, early on, you know how things are put together, then you can build. The architect is in charge of making - he is not an artist. ~ Peter Zumthor

Over the course of time many Americans have forgotten that "we the people" are actually at the top of the food chain as far as authority is concerned in this nation. The Republicans don't run our nation. The Democrats don't run our nation. We do. However, by dividing and engaging in political squabbles, we have allowed the government to grow so large and powerful that it has now become the boss, progressively taking charge of all of our lives. ~ Ben Carson