Uncle John Feather Quotes

I was in the army.... We went to fight a bad white man, or so the whites told us. We had meetings that were called orientation and education. There were films. It was to show us how this bad white man was doing terrible things in his country. Everybody was angry after the films, and eager to fight. Except me. I was only there because the army paid more than an Indian can earn anywhere else. So I was not angry, but puzzled. There was nothing that this white leader did that the white leaders in this country do not also do. They told us about a place named Lidice. It was much like Wounded Knee. They told us of families moved thousands of miles to be destroyed. It was much like the Trail of Tears. They told us of how this man ruled his nation, so that none dared disobey him. It was much like the way white men work in corporations in New York City, as Sam has described it to me. I asked another soldier about this, a black white man. He was easier to talk to than the regular white man. I asked him what he thought of the orientation and education. He said it was shit, and he spoke from the heart! I thought about it a long time, and I knew he was right. The orientation and education was shit. ~ Robert Shea

Cavendish was "Avonlea" to a certain extent. "Lover's Lane" was a very beautiful lane through the woods on a neighbour's farm. It was a beloved haunt of mine from my earliest days. The "Shore Road" has a real existence, between Cavendish and Rustico. But the "White Way of Delight," "Wiltonmere," and "Violet Vale" were transplanted from the estates of my castles in Spain. "The Lake of Shining Waters" is generally supposed to be Cavendish Pond. This is not so. The pond I had in mind is the one at Park Corner, below Uncle John Campbell's house. ~ L.M. Montgomery

TV tends to look for the living equivalents of squeaky-clean Kens and Barbies, but with my dial I'm more like Ken's dirty old uncle. ~ John C. McGinley

Revelation 22:17 says, "And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." One who is athirst may come and is invited to come. And if you "willed" to come, then that is all God requires. It is not walking down an aisle, nor joining a church, nor feeling light as a feather, nor having some great emotional experience that saves one. It is simply turning one's case over to Jesus Christ. ~ John R. Rice

And soon afterwards this manuscript will appear, my final book ... There will be outrage and disgust and people will turn on me at the last, they will hate me, my reputation will for ever be destroyed, my punishment earned, self-inflicted like this gunshot wound, and the world will finally know that I was the greatest feather man of them all. ~ John Boyne

Ya=hey, he called out to the movement of air, the unseen. A summer before, Uncle Moses listened to his nephew John-John talking a story. John-John was back from college and told Moses that 99 percent of the matter in the universe is invisible to the human eye. Ever since, Moses made sure to greet what he could not see. ~ Sherman Alexie

Romney sounds like he wants to be the nice uncle in a sitcom, Santorum sounds like he wants to be a twelfth-century archbishop, Gingrich sounds like he wants to go to outer space, and Paul sounds like he came from there. ~ John Barnes

In Hollywood, the real stars are all in animation. Alvin and the Chipmunks don't throw star fits, don't demand custom-designed Winnebagos, and are a breeze at costume fittings. Cruella DeVille, Gorgo, Rainbow Brite, Gus-Gus, Uncle Scrooge, and the Care Bears are all superstars and they don't have drug problems, marital difficulties, or paternity suits to blacken their images. They don't age, balk at promoting, or sass highly paid directors. Plus, you can market them to death and they never feel exploited. I'd like to do a big-budget snuff film starring every last one of them. ~ John Waters

He said only, "Bad people. Some very bad people."
Uncle Chris's mouth flattened into a small, thin line. Then he nodded crisply. He knew all about bad people. John was speaking in a language he understood.
"Is it drugs?" Uncle Chris asked, in a hushed voice.
I looked at John, in his black jeans and T-shirt, with his long dark hair, and studded leather wristbands. I could see why Uncle Chris had asked. To someone of his generation, it would have to be either drugs, or…well, a rock band.
John gave me a barely perceptible shake of his head. No, his eyes begged me. Don't.
"Yes," I said, glancing back at Uncle Chris. "It's drugs."
John's gaze instantly rolled towards the sky.
"Piercey," Uncle Chris said, exhaling gustily and dragging a hand through his hair. "We talked about this. I thought you were the one I didn't have to worry about."
We had talked about something along those lines, I remembered, outside this very house, the night before Jade was killed. But it had been about Uncle Chris giving me driving lessons. I didn't recall drugs being mentioned.
"Well," I said. "Things are a little messed up right now. That's why we're here. I wanted to make sure Alex is okay."
"Alex?" Uncle Chris threw me a look of alarm. "Don't tell me Alex is doing drugs."
I could see now why John had been against lying about the drugs thing. I'd thought it would simplify things. But it was only making them worse.
"He's not," I said quickly. ~ Meg Cabot

My last vivid boyhood fright from books came when I was 15; I was visiting my uncle and aunt in Greenwich, and, emboldened by my success with 'The Waste Land,' I opened their copy of 'Ulysses.' The whiff of death off those remorseless, closely written pages overpowered me. So: back to soluble mysteries, and jokes that were not cosmic. ~ John Updike

It depends who they are. If it's Mick (Jagger) or the Old Guard as I call them, yeah, they're the Old Guard. Elton (John), David (Bowie) are the newies. I don't feel like an old uncle, dear, 'cause I'm not that much older than half of 'em, hehe. ~ John Lennon

Someone like John Prine can write a song that tears into your soul, turn it over, and write a song that makes you laugh and feel light as a feather. With someone like him, you're getting a real picture of a person, a real expression. ~ Scott Avett

To Canadians, everyone is equal. Joni Mitchell is interchangeable with a secretary at open-mic night. Frank Gehry is no greater than a hack pumping out McMansions on AutoCAD. John Candy is no funnier than Uncle Lou when he gets a couple of beers in him. No wonder the only Canadians anyone's ever heard of are the ones who have gotten the hell out. Anyone with talent who stayed would be flattened under an avalanche of equality. ~ Maria Semple

Birds of a feather really do flock together. ~ John C. Maxwell

I had now totally taken in love's true arrow from the point up to the feather . . . . ~ John Cleland

I wanta buy stuff. Stuff I don't need ... Stuff settin' out there, you jus' feel like buyin' it whether you need it or not.
-Uncle John ~ John Steinbeck

John Berryman: The Song of the Tortured Girl

After a little I could not have told -
But no one asked me this – why I was there.
I asked. The ceiling of that place was high
And there were sudden noises, which I made.
I must have stayed there a long time today:
My cup of soup was gone when they brought me back.

Often 'Nothing worse now can come to us'
I thought, the winter the young men stayed away,
My uncle died, and mother broke her crutch.
And then the strange room where the brightest light
Does not shine on the strange men: shines on me.
I feel them stretch my youth and throw a switch.

Through leafless branches the sweet wind blows
Making a mild sound, softer than a moan;
High in a pass once where we put our tent,
Minutes I lay awake to hear my joy.
- I no longer remember what they want. -
Minutes I lie awake to hear my joy. ~ John Berryman

flipped open. A stranger sat in the uncomfortable-looking chair next to his hospital bed, the pads of his fingers pressed together under his chin. "Who are you?" Jacob asked. "I'm your Uncle John. John Laudner," the man said. He leaned forward and extended a calloused palm. Jacob did not take the man's ~ G.P. Ching

Came the day of the first trial. The propellants were hydrazine and WFNA. We were all gathered around waiting for the balloon to go up, when Dr. Milton Scheer(Uncle Milty) warned,
"Hold it - the acid valve is leaking!"
"Go ahead - fire anyway!" Paul ordered.

I looked around and signaled to my own gang, and we started backing away gently, like so many cats with wet feet. ~ John D. Clark

I was about to order Chinese when I looked out the window and saw you. Hey, do you two want to stay? We're getting moo shu."
It was so like Uncle Chris to go from wanting to beat John up one minute, to inviting him for moo shu the next.
"Uh, maybe," I said. I pointed to the French doors, looking questioningly at John. He nodded. "Let's see how it goes, okay, Uncle Chris?"
"That'd be good," Uncle Chris said. "We could talk all this out."
John followed me inside, Uncle Chris trailing behind us, his expression curious rather than suspicious.
"I hate it when families fight," Uncle Chris was saying. "It makes it so uncomfortable ... "
I suppose I should have counted it lucky that it had been Uncle Chris, and not some other adult, I'd run into first at home. I wasn't sure if it was because of all the years he'd sent out of mainstream society-he still had no idea how to text, or what Google was-or if his personality was really this childlike. ~ Meg Cabot

What makes a man's 80 year-old Irish uncle skip like a little boy? Me Father is very fond of me! ~ John Ortberg Jr.

You were never in Texas," she says.He remembers the house on that strange treeless residential street, the green night growing up from the prairie, the flowers in the window, and says, "Absolutely I was.""Doing what?""Serving Uncle.""Oh, in the Army; well that doesn't count. Everybody's been to Texas with the Army.""You order whatever you think is good," Rabbit tells Tothero. ~ John Updike

My uncle died in 1987. I unfortunately - I saw it happen before it happened, which was really, really hard because I was 16 years old and I thought, like, Well, I'm seeing this. I'm supposed to stop this. And I couldn't. ~ John Edward

Friends and family arrived at the church: Becky and Connell, my two lifelong friends and bridesmaids. Marlboro Man's cousins and college friends. And Mike. My dear brother Mike, who hugged everyone who entered the church, from the little old ladies to the strapping former college football players. And just as I was greeting my Uncle John, I saw Mike go in for the kill as Tony, Marlboro Man's good college friend, entered the door.
"Wh-wh-wh-what is you name?" Mike's thundering voice echoed through the church.
"Hi, I'm Tony," Marlboro Man's friend said, extending his hand.
"It's n-n-n-nice to meet you, Tony," Mike shouted back, not letting go of Tony's hand.
"Nice to meet you too, Mike," Tony said, likely wondering when he would get his hand back.
"You so handsome," Mike said.
Oh, Lord. Please, no, I thought.
"Why…thank you, Mike," Tony replied, smiling uncomfortably. If it hadn't been my wedding rehearsal, I might have popped some popcorn, sat back, and enjoyed the show. But I just couldn't watch. Mike's affection had never been any respecter of persons. ~ Ree Drummond

What I was suddenly aware of was the importance of their being whatever each of them was
cocky and contemptuous, or bothered and beaten
as long as it was something they'd come to in their own way: the importance of being human, in fact. The peace and harmony Uncle Ian and the others claimed to be handing out in fact was death, because without being yourself, an individual, you weren't really alive. ~ John Christopher

It was said by Abraham Lincoln that Ms. Stowe's novel, UNCLE TOM'S CABIN, started the great civil war, the it can be said with certainty that Ms. Brown's novel THE SOUTHERN CROSS reveals the untold story behind the Civil Rights Movement." John Jeter ~ Alabama Jane Brown

Of course it's difficult to know what the workers are really thinking because the capitalist press always only quotes mouthpieces like Vic Feather anyway. ~ John Lennon

Now you take dark Negroes like you, Mr. Griffin, and me," he went on. "We're old Uncle Toms to our people, no matter how much education and morals we've got. No, you have to be almost a mulatto, have your hair conked and all slicked out and look like a Valentino. Then the Negro will look up to you. You've got class. Isn't that a pitiful hero-type?"
"And the white man knows that," Mr. Davis said.
"Yes," the cafe owner continued. "He utilizes this knowledge to flatter some of us, tell us we're above our people, not like most Negroes. We're so stupid we fall for it and work against own own. Why, if we'd work just half as hard to boost our race as we do to please whites whose attentions flatter us, we'd really get somewhere. ~ John Howard Griffin

Americans are pushy, obnoxious, neurotic, crass - anything and everything - the full catastrophe as our friend Zorba might say. Canadians are none of that. The way you might fear a cow sitting down in the middle of the street during rush hour, that's how I fear Canadians. To Canadians, everyone is equal. Joni Mitchell is interchangeable with a secretary at open-mic night. Frank Gehry is no greater than a hack pumping out McMansions on AutoCAD. John Candy is no funnier than Uncle Lou when he gets a couple of beers in him. No wonder the only Canadians anyone's ever heard of are the ones who have gotten the hell out. Anyone with talent who stayed would be flattened under an avalanche of equality. The thing Canadians don't understand is that some people are extraordinary and should be treated as such. ~ Maria Semple

Turning, she smiled with genuine affection at Lord Marchman and offered him her hand through the open window of the coach. "Thank you," she said shyly but with great sincerity, "for being all the things you are, my lord."
His face scarlet with pleasure at her compliment, John Marchman stepped back and watched her coach pull out of his drive. He watched it until the horses turned onto the road, then he slowly walked back toward the house and went into his study. Sitting down at his desk, he looked at the note he'd written her uncle and idly drummed his fingers upon his desk, recalling her disturbing answer when he asked if she'd dissuaded old Belhaven from pressing his suit. "I think I have," she'd said. And then John made his decision.
Feeling rather like an absurd knight in shining armor rushing to save an unwilling damsel in the event of future distress, he took out a fresh sheet of paper and wrote out a new message to her uncle. As it always happened the moment courtship was involved, Lord Marchman lost his ability to be articulate. His note read:

If Belhaven asks for her, please advise me of it. I think I want her first. ~ Judith McNaught

Isn't it true that when some couple celebrates their tenth or fifteenth anniversary they seem far from triumphant? In fact they seem duped while dirty Uncle Harry, the rake, seems to wear the laurels. ~ John Cheever

I am not an Internet superstar. ~ John Hodgman

He that has not religion to govern his morality, is not a dram better than my mastiff-dog; so long as you stroke him, and please him, and do not pinch him, he will play with you as finely as may be, he is a very good moral mastiff; but if you hurt him, he will fly in your face, and tear out your throat. ~ John Selden

What are you assholes looking at?" "Nothing," said Radar. "We're certainly not looking at your eyebrows. ~ John Green

Not that Colin intended to take any action against the peace and dignity of pigship. In the extremely unlikely event that he even came across a hog, he figured, he'd allow it to study devilment in peace. Which was how he justified not mentioning the hog hunt to his parents during their nightly phone conversation. He wasn't really going on a hunt anyway. He was going for a stroll through the woods. With a gun. ~ John Green

I can see why many Southerners, black ones in particular, don't like the implication that Southernness and the Confederate heritage are one and the same, because they're not. On the other hand, there are people who want to extirpate that completely and want folks to spit on the graves of their ancestors. ~ John Shelton Reed