America's present need is not heroics, but healing; not nostrums, but normalcy; not revolution, but restoration; not agitation, but adjustment; not surgery, but serenity; not the dramatic, but the dispassionate; not experiment, but equipoise; not submergence in internationality, but sustainment in triumphant nationality.
Finally Marcus stepped forward. "If you insist on going through me to get him, it's your call. But I warn you, I will probably cry when you hurt me, and you'll fell bad about it later." Vinci looked at him. "That's your defiant speech?" "Get used to it, " said Marcus. "There's a lot more useless heroics where that came from.
All the poets are indebted more or less to those who have gone before them; even Homer's originality has been questioned, and Virgil owes almost as much to Theocritus, in his Pastorals, as to Homer, in his Heroics; and if our own countryman, Milton, has soared above both Homer and Virgil, it is because he has stolen some feathers from their wings.
Charles Caleb Colton
Sense of smell, of course, is only one of those dog qualities that can't be replicated or improved upon. I've been researching dogs in warfare for my book about 'Rin Tin Tin,' and I've read many accounts of their heroics: carrying messages through battle, alerting troops to enemy planes, and even parachuting behind enemy lines.
Not many people understood the inherent pain of a career in heroics. Your body aches from the demands of day-to-day protection. Your mind whirs with the things you did wrong, the ways you could've done better, the scores of citizens you didn't save. And when you lose someone you love, when their blood forms a puddle beneath your cheek while you watch... Your name, Watcher, becomes the cruelest agony of all.
As a teenager in Brooklyn Quentin had often imagined himself engaged in martial heroics, but after this he knew, as a cold immutable fact, that he would do anything necessary, sacrificing whatever or whomever he had to, to avoid risking exposure to physical violence. Shame never came into it. He embraced his new identity as a coward. He would run in the other direction. He would lie down and cry and put his arms over his head or play dead. It didn't matter what he had to do, he would do it and be glad.
I'd say 3/4 of advertising works on pure Pavlov. Think how association, pure association, works. Take Coca-Cola company (we're the biggest share-holder). They want to be associated with every wonderful image: heroics in the Olympics, wonderful music, you name it. They don't want to be associated with presidents' funerals and so-forth.
He was an American character, one typical of men of his generation, men who embraced the notion of freedom and individualism and the open road without always knowing its price, and whose enthusiasms could as easily lead to the cowardice of McCarthyism as to the heroics of World War II. Men who were both dangerous and promising precisely because of their fundamental innocence; men prone, in the end, to disappointment.
Then we still have time!' I gasp. 'It's not too late. We know what he's going to do. We'll return to the cave and fight.' 'We?' Kernel says sarcastically. 'Yes! I'll fight to save Dervish and Bill-E. I don't care what those monsters throw at us. When it's family, it's different.' 'You really think you can choose not to be a coward if and when it suits you?' Kernel jeers. Beranabus interrupts wearily before I can retort. 'It doesn't matter. You're arguing about nothing. The time for heroics has passed.
It seems to me that we spend most of our spiritual energies trying to explain why the God of Elijah, Samson, David, and Paul seems to have lost His muscle in our modern age. Did He grow tired of performing heroics? Did He wax feeble after all these years of running this whole universal show? Could it be true that God has really lost His muscle? Maybe it would be more accurate to say God lost His men.
What we men share is the experience of having been raised by women in a culture that stopped our fathers from being close enough to teach us how to be men, in a world in which men were discouraged from talking about our masculinity and questioning its roots and its mystique, in a world that glorified masculinity and gave us impossibly unachievable myths of masculine heroics, but no domestic models to teach us how to do it.
Men can have an obvious display of heroics or strength or accomplishment, but it is the unsung women throughout all ages of humankind who have endured with superlative strength, beauty and love, often with secret suffering, that deserve absolute respect and acknowlegement. They are the true heroes of humanity. They are the champions who have birthed and nurtured us, who have held us together at the most integral level, when men seemed intent only on tearing apart the fabric of life for irrelevant ideals.
The thing about great fictional characters from literature, and the reason that they're constantly turned into characters in movies, is that they completely speak to what makes people human. They're full of flaws as much as they are full of heroics. I think the reason that people love them and hate them so much is because, in some way, they always see a mirror of themselves in them, and you can always understand them on some level. Sometimes it's a terrifyingly dark mirror that's held up.
I am still confused as to why they chose to lie and tried to make me a legend when the real heroics of my fellow soldiers that day were, in fact, legendary. People like Lori Piestewa and First Sergeant Dowdy who picked up fellow soldiers in harm's way. Or people like Patrick Miller and Sergeant Donald Walters who actually fought until the very end. The bottom line is the American people are capable of determining their own ideals of heroes and they don't need to be told elaborate tales.
It's much easier to remember the World Series heroics of Tony Perez, Pete Rose, and Joe Morgan than it is to recall who set the table for Rose during Game 7 of the 1975 World Series vs. Boston. The Red Sox led 3-2 in the seventh when [Ken] Griffey drew a free pass. Not nearly as memorable as the home run Perez hit against Bill Lee that made it a 3-2 ballgame, not nearly as memorable as the hit Rose got to tie the game, and for sure not as memorable as the hit Morgan got to win it in the ninth, but ... it's a shame people forget Griffey stole second base with two outs to get into scoring position.
KILLAZ REFLECT THE DESTINY OF THE VILLAGE SO WHEN 20 COUNT REGRETS FLOAT DOWN FUTILITY SPILLAGE SEE I'LL PASS THE BROKEN ARROW THIS TIME FOR CERTAIN YEA BUT FROM HERE ON OUT ITS HOOF THE MARE THE BARE FOOTED URCHIN DIG IT IN PERSON NOW EXHIBIT TRUE AUDACITY AND PASSIVELY HACK GREASE INTO RIBBONS YOUR EXCUSED FROM THE ROUNDTABLE ADMISSIONS COMMITTEE ACTIVIST LEGENDS TURNED HOSTAGE IN FALLEN CITIES DIRTY EARTHLINGS CIRCLING VISION IMMACULATE SPIN ME DIZZY IN A CROSSWALK MY TOO FAR GONE MASTODON SENSES INSPECT RELENTLESS FOR FITTED BOOGIE SYSTEMS AND CROOK ADDICTIONS WELL SURE MY CROWN IS FORMED OF THORNS YEA BUT MY THORNS ARE FORMED OF SOUND AND I HAVE FOUND SOUND WILL KEEP ME WARM WHEN THE MORNINGS BORN WITH FROZEN GROUND PUT A ROPE DOWN PULL ME FROM WHERE THE BUZZARDS CLEARED I MEAN FROM THE BONES YOU AND YOUR LITTLE BADASS MAD MAX MUSKETEERS WHEN THE SILHOETTES OF EMACIATED FRAMES DANCE ON A HIGHWIRE MISTOOK FOR ASPIRING THIRD WORLD POSTER CHILDREN BUT IS INSERTED GHOST WITH DEALIN DEAD TO ADMINISTER LINKS LIKE CHIEF THEN WHATS YOUR FORTE DEVIL DRAGGER IN DISGUISE SEEKING THE MATCH MADE IN YOUR EYES FRIEND IT DON'T TAKE THE WISE THIS MINUTE TRIPLICATE PACE UNIFIED I DON'T CONDONE THE BLASPHEMY NATURALLY ITS PROCREATION FROM THE FLOODS, TO THE FIRES, TO THE DROUGHTS, TO THE CYCLONES TIDAL WAVES, THE TWISTERS, TORNADOES, AND HELL STONES WHIRLWINDS, TROPICAL STORMS, BLIZZARDS AND MONSOONS ALL OF WHICH I WITNESSED PRIOR TO WAKING UP INSIDE MY ROOM LOOK AT THE CROOK AS I PANIC EPISODE TANTRUMS FUCK HUGGING MY COOL THE EDGINESS READIES THE MOCK KNOCK QUICK DRAW HENCE THE DUEL THE COMPANY OF SIMILARS COULDN'T EXCITE THE MOTOR BUT HERMIT CRAB ACE HOME ALONE-UH ONE BARREL OF IDIOMS AND CHARCOAL STICK, COURAGE UNDER DESIRE CANOPY DRAPED BEAUTIFUL MESSIAH RELUCTANT STUCK IN THE PLUCK IN THE HAUL BUZZING THE FUZZING TELEVISON MIXER BOOK OF SATURATED MATCHES AND A HALF-MADE BED PICK OF THE LITTER, LITTER OF THE PICK PACK LEADER WILL HUFF CANNIBAL FUMES, MECHANICAL ZOOM THERE'S AMPLE ROOM STOWAWAYS INSIDE THE CARGO BED SAID LEECH PRIOR TO FIRING UP HIS BARNACLE MAGNET INSTINCTS LEASHING HIMSELF TO WHERE THE WIND SPLITTING ICE STORMS AND TERMITE SWARMS ARE COMMONPLACE I'M A TRACE THIS SILVER LINING WINDING ROUND THE PROFIT CHASE I KNOW THERE IS GOOD IN YOU IF ONE PEELS BACK THE OPULENCE BUT I ALSO KNOW ITS RATIO THE BAD DON'T FEED MY CONFIDENCE THE NUTRIENTS WILL BE INTENSE CIRCLE THE CLUES UNITS OF SUCCESS BEING PERSONAL THEN SUCKED BASIC DIVERSION RUSTY ANCHOR BUDGET FOR NOTHING WEDGED BETWEEN AESOP ROCK AND A SCARRED FACE OF FRUSTRATED FUCK YOUS BOUND BY CONCERN I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M STILL CONCERNED I CAN'T BELIEVE SIDE CHILDREN TURN IN THEIR SLEEP OVER ONE-LINERS WELL I YIELD TO HEAR YOUR BURNS COLOR ME OUT OF MY SKULL DRAGGIN A WAGON OF CREATURE FEATURES AND ALL I EVER WANTED WAS TO AGGRAVATE THE SLEEPERS LOOK SELF-CRAFTED HEROICS MURDER WORTHLESS CRASH TEST IDEOLOGIES, CATALOG ALIEN DOCTRINES TYPE DISTURBANCE GOT EM OUT, KILLING MACHINES TURN BELLY UP BUCKLED, THE TROUBLES I'VE SEEN COAX TWENTY FOUR SEVENS OF WIDE EYES FROM DAY DREAMERS CLEAN OR DIRTY SERPENTS IN TURN WISH PREFERENCE FOR THE LATTER JUSTIFIED THE GERMS BURN CAUTERIZE THE GASHES AFTER ON MY LEFT, ONE FINGER FOR EACH BURROUGH I CAN TOUCH ON MY RIGHT, ONE FINGER FOR EACH TIME THAT I WAKE UP MIDSUMMER NIGHT WHO'S CLOAKED IN A PRISTINE MANTLE OF HELLFIRE BUT A-CAPITAL GLACIERS OUT THE EAST SLIDE LATERAL BORN FOR ONE TASK INDEED TO SPOIL THE CITIZEN KANE EMOTE SELF THIS UGLY DUCKLING SEED LOOK I AINT TOO ATTIRED OF DRAGGIN THE BAGGAGE OVER THE SEASAW SEEDS WHEN THE REAPERS TURNS MORTALS TO CASPERS SEE THE PLAIN AND STONE CONJURABLE CAN'T MIMMICK THE NULL OF A BILLION TROOPS HOLDING MATCHSTICKS TO EMPTY CANNONS STAND OF A MANY MOONS WHEN THE SUN HIT THE MOUNTAINSIDE SPLENDIDLY BASK IN THE LAST WARMTH THAT BE KNOWN TO MAN'S TANGENTS IN THE WINK OF AN INNOCENT STARCHILD'S EYELID DROP HE VANISHED MANAGED TO CARVE INITIALS IN THE GRANITE WALL THE DAMNED IT ALL UP I HUNG WITH CATS THAT DO THE DONTS CATS THAT FORAGE THROUGH THE MOATS HOPING THEY OPEN WITH SOVERIEGNTY AND A CANTINE DEEMED WITH PRODIGIES I LOVE THE WAKE, THE WATCH, THE WALK, THE WORK THE WELL ITS ALMOST SIX O'CLOCK I'VE NEVER SEEN SO MANY TUGBOATS MISS THE DOCK