The sleds accelerated quickly as they glided effortlessly over the smooth ice. We had never before experienced such a quick, easy slide. usually we wished we could push ourselves to make our sleds go faster. But not this time. The crystals of ice started flying past at an incredible rate of speed. No longer aware of where my sister and her sled were, all I could see was raw ice whizzing by ten inches under my chin at a rate of speed I never imagined I would experience on a sled. I felt like I was flying!
It must've been Albert's military background, because man, when he dropped a bomb the entire country shook. I was still jittery as a hurricane survivor in New Orleans, and I was sure that somewhere in Alaska some poor Inuit had just taken a tumble from his sled for the very same reason.
A border collie saved me once when I was pinned under a horse in Colorado. And once when I went through the ice, one of my sled dogs saw me go under, and she got the rest of the team, and they pulled me out of 12 feet of water. I think that dogs offer the only form of unconditional love that's available to humans.
Always in the dream, it seemed as if there were a destination: a something--he could not grasp what-that lay beyond the place where the thickness of snow brought the sled to a stop. He was left, upon awakening, with the feeling that he wanted, even somehow needed, to reach the something that waited in the distance. The feeling that it was good. That it was welcoming. That it was significant. But he did not know how to get there.
Without gospel truths, man's efforts to reach his goals are like the northbound explorer who drove his dog sled feverishly northward on an ice pack that was flowing southward - only to find himself farther from his destination at the end of a hard day's journey than he had been at dawn!
Neal A. Maxwell
In our family, we've always been owned by border collies, or dogs of one kind or another, and have rescued many dogs. We've lived in the woods and sometimes have had as many as 70 sled dogs. Or had six or seven dogs living in the house. Dogs have saved my life on more than one occasion - and I mean that literally.
Alexander, you broke my heart. But for carrying me on your back, for pulling my dying sled, for giving me your last bread, for the body you destroyed for me, for the son you have given me, for the twenty-nine days we lived like Red Birds of Paradise, for all our Naples sands and Napa wines, for all the days you have been my first and last breath, for Orbeli- I will forgive you.
I walked over to the hill where we used to go and sled. There were a lot of little kids there. I watched them flying. Doing jumps and having races. And I thought that all those little kids are going to grow up someday. And all of those little kids are going to do the things that we do. And they will all kiss someone someday. But for now, sledding is enough. I think it would be great if sledding were always enough, but it isn't.
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,Seems nowhere to alight: the whited airHides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end.The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feetDelayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sitAround the radiant fireplace, enclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
I like to compare the two to a quarterback and a lineman. Being a brakeman is very physical and success is mostly determined by how fast you can push a sled for about 30 meters. Your position is won or lost by the hundredths of seconds you are faster than another individual. It's like the lineman who is there mostly for their athleticism and physicality. The driver, like the quarterback, possesses a unique skill that takes a lot longer to learn.
Several factors besides skill are more significant in professional writers than in most amateurs. One is love of the surface level of language: the sound of it; the taste of it on the tongue; what it can be made to do in virtuosic passages that exist only for their own sake, like cadenzas in baroque concerti. Writers in love with their tools are not unlike surgeons obsessed with their scalpels, or Arctic sled racers who sleep among their dogs even when they don't have to.
Alice Weaver Flaherty
On the sled, in the box, lay a third man whose toil was over, - a man whom the Wild had conquered and beaten down until he would never move nor struggle again. It is not the way of the Wild to like movement. Life is an offense to it, for life is movement; and the Wild aims always to destroy movement.
Out of a human population on earth of four and a half billion, perhaps twenty people can write a book in a year. Some people lift cars, too. Some people enter week-long sled-dog races, go over Niagara Falls in a barrel, fly planes through the Arc de Triomphe. Some people feel no pain in childbirth. Some people eat cars. There is no call to take human extremes as norms.
YOU CAN REACH ME BY RAILWAY YOU CAN REACH ME BY TRAILWAY YOU CAN REACH ME ON AN AIRPLANE YOU CAN REACH ME WITH YOUR MIND YOU CAN REACH ME BY CARAVAN CROSS THE DESERT LIKE AN ARAM MAN I DON'T CARE HOW YOU GET HERE JUST - GET HERE IF YOU CAN - YOU CAN REACH ME BY SAIL BOAT CLIMB A TREE AND SWING ROPE TO ROPE TAKE A SLED AND SLIDE DOWN THE-SLOPE INTO THESE ARMS OF MINE YOU CAN JUMP ON A SPEEDY COLT CROSS THE BORDER IN A BLAZE OF HOPE I DON'T CARE HOW YOU GET HERE JUST GET HERE IF YOU CAN THERE ARE HILLS AND MOUNTAINS BETWEEN US ALWAYS SOMETHING TO GET OVER IF I HAD MY WAY, SURELY YOU WOULD BE CLOSER I NEED YOU CLOSE
April is the cruelest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers. Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade, And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, And drank coffee, and talked for an hour. Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch. And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.
There is a pain you can't think your way out of. You can't talk it away. If there was someone to talk to. You can walk. One foot the other foot. Breathe in breathe out. Drink from the stream. Piss. Eat the venison strips. And. You can't metabolize the loss. It is in the cells of your face, your chest, behind the eyes, in the twists of the gut. Muscles, sinew, bone. It is all of you. When you walk you propel it forward. When you let the sled and sit on a fallen log and. You imagine him curling in the one patch of sun maybe lying over your feet. Then it sits with you, the Pain puts its arm over your shoulders. It is your closest friend. Steadfast. And at night you can't bear to hear your own breath unaccompanied by another and underneath the big stillness like a score is the roaring of the cataract of everything being and being torn away. Then. The Pain is lying beside your side, close. Does not bother you with sound even of breathing.
MY THOUGHTS TRAVEL FAR BEYOND THE GALAXIES PRAISE HARD TO SHOOTIN STARS DEADLY BOMBIN FOR THE CAUSE WILDCAT RAZOR CLOSE LIKES IT IN THE INNOCENT, THE FIVE PERCENT ATTRIBUTE, ROLL GOD ALLAH, FUCK THE GOVERNMENT I DESIGN MILITARY WARHEADS WITH INFRARED GOTTA BE SLED - OH SHIT HERE COME THE FEDS DON'T MOVE OR YOU'RE DEAD, NIGGAS FLED LIKE FUGITIVES CONSIDERED NON-DANGEROUS THE WAY NIGGAS DON'T PERTAIN TO THIS KILLARMY BREATH OF THIS BULLSHIT IGNORANCE AS I OVERTAKE THE SUN, MULTIPLY DEAF AND DUMB VICTIMS OF ILLUSIONS, DON'T UNDERSTAND CONFUSION I LET MY THOUGHTS BE BORN OF POETRY SHOW AND PROVEN DO WE BE THE CHOSEN ON THE UPRISE, EIGHTY FIVES DON'T REALIZE TO CHECK FOR THESE BAD GUYS WITH THE SNAKE EYES THE POISONOUS VENOM'S COLD WETTIN LIVES KILLARMY ON THE RETURN LIKE THE JEDI
I'M ON MY LAND SLED, WALKIN THROUGH THE BELLY OF THE BEATS FEELIN LIKE I'M ALL OUT, DRUNK AS CAN BE IT'S PLAIN TO SEE, THAT WE MOBB NIGGAZ HIDIN' IN BUSHES CLAIMIN THAT THEY RIDE ROUGH, BUT THEY SOFT AS THEY CUSHION THEY SOFTER THAN BITCHES IN THE WORST WAY, DROWNIN IN BLOOD OUTLAWZ MY BLOOD BROTHERS, I'D DIE FOR THESE THUGGS SAY HI TO THIS SLUG, IT'S A SHAME HOW SOME NIGGAZ ON THE WEST COAST WAS RIDIN WITH PAC, BUT WHEN HE DIED, THEY WENT POP I'M ON THE JERS TO THE FULLEST, LIKE SOME WEST COAST LOVE BUT AFTER PAC STOPPED RAPPIN, IT AIN'T NO WEST COAST THUG JUST WESTCOAST WHAT?TO MY REAL NIGGAZ STUCK IN THE STREET GAME CAUSE RAPPERS LIKE JAY-Z BE PUMPIN KOOL-AID THROUGH THEY VEINS IS IT TRUE WHAT I'M SAYIN?SLAP YOUR SOFT ASS TO THE FLOOR AND WATCH MY FO-FO PUT PEEK HOLES THROUGH YOUR DOOR I RIDE OR DIE, BUT THESE OTHER FAG NIGGAZ BE BITIN THIS IT'S ALL FROM MY HEART WHEN I WAS WRITIN THIS ALL OUT
2Pac F/ Outlawz