My love for you won't stop with my leaving. Come an evening over the years, when you step outside your door and hear the wind blowing through the cottonwoods, that'll be me, thinking of you, whispering your name, and loving you.

That kiss was amazing. Our lips were meant to meet and do wicked things to each other.

Despite everything, every piece of Alaska sang to me. I remembered every curve in the trails, every tree in the forest. It was familiar to me, comfortable. The more I thought about leaving it, the less I liked the idea. This was my home.

I didn't care, because I loved him, and that was the end of every argument and the beginning of every promise.

Hank Knight asked questions about Jesse Rose and an item that was taken from her crib the night she was kidnapped. His questions led our lawyer to believe Hank had knowledge about the crime and possibly where Jesse Rose is now. I think he got too close to the truth. Too close to the kidnapper's accomplice. And if I'm right then you can help me prove it.

He noticed her eyes were a rich, warm brown, the same color as his favorite horse."Yes?"He realized he'd been staring. At least he had the sense not to voice his thoughts. He doubted she would appreciate her eye color being compared to that of his horse's hide even if it was his favorite.

Her gaze locked with his and she felt her heart quicken. Slowly, he bent his head until his lips were only a breath away from her own. She couldn't breathe. Didn't dare. She thought she would die if he didn't kiss her.

His lips brushed over hers. She let out a sigh of relief and joy and pleasure. He pulled her tighter against him, taking her mouth with his own. She melted into him and the kiss, heart pounding, desire sparking along her nerve endings like a string of lit dynamite.

Seth shrugged. "He's already had his funeral pyre" He glanced towards "I reckon the Devil himself was there to welcome Daniel home. " He shuddered, "Course he may prove to be too mean for the devil himself.

The past is just that.

Where are you taking me?” Abby asked from the passenger seat of the pickup.

Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky." Excerpt from Grace Willow's Last Minute Bride

It is brutal. Only I never could see the sense in having folks look at your tombstone and say, 'He was a man who didn't believe in violence, He's a good man... and dead.

But I don't know how to fight. All I know how to do is stay alive.

Whatever in creation exists without my knowledge exists without my consent.

It was Daisuke's conviction that all morality traced its origins to social realities. He believed there could be no greater confusion of cause and effect than to attempt to conform social reality to a rigidly predetermined notion of morality. Accordingly, he found the ethical education conducted by lecture in Japanese schools utterly meaningless. In the schools, students were either instructed in the old morality or crammed with a morality suited to the average European. For an unfortunate people beset by the fierce appetites of life, this amounted to nothing more than vain, empty talk. When the recipients of this education saw society before their eyes, they would recall those lectures and burst out laughing. Or else they would feel that they had been made fools of. In Daisuke's case it was not just school; he had received the most rigorous and least functional education from his father. Thanks to this, he had at one time experienced acute anguish stemming from contradictions. Daisuke even felt bitter over it.

In the West, people learn through the Socratic tradition. The education system was influenced by Western philosophy and is based on constantly questioning the knowledge that’s handed to you and arriving at the truth through that process of questioning. The Indian system took off from the Guru-Shishyha tradition in which your virtue as a student lay in taking tradition or parampara as it is given to you and passing it on to the next generation in the exact same way.

I appreciate your thinking on me, marshal, but ain’t no trouble of his what ain’t trouble of mine, too.

The exaltation of human reason and its capabilities, a commitment to rigorous and rational debate, a promotion of intellectual inquiry and scholarly exchange--all sponsored by the Church--provided the framework for the Scientific Revolution.

The silence was worse than the gunshots. The wait worse than the confusion. The forebode worsethan any danger.

In western societies many people become sick in their thirties, develop serious medical conditions in their forties and are disabled in their fifties.

The biggest enemy of western people is not war or terrorism, it is their own governments lack of regulation of public health and safety.

Western police officers are an arguably corrupt group of people that have rigged the system to make them almost untouchable.

For many people, a western lifestyle equates to living in a toxic home, working a toxic job, eating toxic food, being sick from your thirties onward and eventually dying from preventable disease.

Now, if you don’t know ‘Bonnie Blue Flag’, then ‘Dixie’ will do nicely…” Tom began, cocking the pistol. Jesse stared, mouth agape at the carnage in the room. “NOW PLAY!” Tom exploded.

I’d prefer ‘Bonnie Blue Flag’, if you take requests…” Tom had turned and rested his elbows on the bar. His hand was inches from the Colt. These were the men he was looking for.

I think the best way I can put it,” Tom summarized, “was what I was once told that a Confederate prisoner said to his Union captor. The Yank said: ‘Why do you fight us so hard, Reb?’, and his prisoner replied: ‘Because you are here, Yank’.

When I was a student, there wasn't a single thing we did that was unrelated to others. It was all for the Emperor, or parents, or the country, or society—everything was other-centered, which means that all educated men were hypocrites. When society changed, this hypocrisy ceased to work, and as a result, self-centeredness was gradually imported into thought and action, and egoism became enormously over-developed. Instead of the old hypocrites, now all we've got are out-and-out rogues. Do you see what I mean by that?

The call for political freedom took place long ago. The call for freedom of speech is also a thing of the past. Freedom is not a word to be used exclusively for phenomena such as this which are so easily given outward manifestation. I believe that we young men of the new age have encountered the moment in time when we must call for that great freedom, the freedom of the mind.

Understanding why so many western women are giving birth to unnaturally large babies that either damage the birth canal or will not fit down it is one of the greatest challenges to modern medicine.

Annie Taliaferro had that hammerhead look about her, like a breachy range cow, or a bunch-quitting steer.

The back barn door opened, and in walked a vision in a billowing green dress. As she led in her mare, Mr. McBride’s voice faded away as Tom’s total attention turned to the girl. About twenty-one or two, Tom guessed. Not too tall, nor short. Beautiful heart-shaped face decorated with rosy cheeks and light freckles. Long auburn hair tied back in a ponytail. Perfectly set green eyes. Full-bosomed and hourglass shaped. Breathtaking.

I confess [Election] is a hard doctrine, running contrary to our earthly ideas of fair play, but I can see no way around it. Read I Corinthians 6:13 and II Timothy 1:9,10. Also I Peter 1:2,19,20 and Romans 11:7. There you have it. It was good for Paul and Silas and it is good enough for me. It is good enough for you too.

These two developments throw light on what is perhaps the most fundamental difference between the Renaissance and all previous periods of art. We have repeatedly seen that there were these circumstances which could compel the artist to make a distinction between the "technical" proportions and the "objective;" the influence of organic movement, the influence of perspective foreshortening, and the regard for the visual impression of the beholder. These three factors of variation have one thing in common: they all presuppose the artistic recognition of subjectivity. Organic movement introduces into the calculus of artistic composition the subjective will and the subjective emotions of the thing represented; foreshortening the subjective visual experience of the artist; and those "eurhythmic" adjustments which alter that which is right in favor of what seems right, the subjective visual experience of a potential beholder. And it is the Renaissance which, for the first time, not only affirms but formally legitimizes and rationalizes these three forms of subjectivity.

Yong is the outer manifestation of something. Ti is the underlying essence. Technology is a yong associated with a particular ti that is ... Western, and completely alien to us [the Chinese]. For centuries, since the time of the Opium Wars, we have struggled to absorb the yong of technology without importing the Western ti. But it has been impossible. Just as our ancestors could not open our ports to the West without accepting the poison of opium, we could not open our lives to Western technology without taking in the Western ideas, which have been as a plague on our society. The result has been centuries of chaos.

Why is it a man can never seem to buckle down and train himself to indolence and stupidity when he can see what sanctuary they offer from toil and pain?

Reese sucked in a breath and played faster, hurling the anger through his fingers until it spun all hisfear, all his rage, into the gentle voice of music.

The top easily preventable health problems that I see in western societies are: 1. Eating chemically grown food. 2. Exposure to electronically generated harmonic energy from wind and solar power systems. 3. Exposure to harmonic energy from switched mode power supplies (SMPS) that come with modern electronic products. 4. Exposure to wireless radio frequency radiation (RF). 5. Light deficiency from an indoor lifestyle and Low-E double glazed windows. 6. Sound deficiency from heavily insulated homes that are devoid of natural sounds and are extremely quiet. 7. Pollen deficiency from living in man-made cities that are devoid of natural levels of pollen. 8. Natural radiation deficiency from living in homes that block natural levels of environmental radiation. 9. Open drain sickness that occurs when drain traps dry out and faulty vent valves that allow sewer gas to fill the home. 10. Drinking the wrong type of water.

The meaning of life in western secular society is to be successful. So many people are success mad and they are encouraged to reach for something and have so called "worthwhile goals". Money, fame, power, good looks, possessions are the indicators of success and the media and advertising companies exploit this. People are conditioned to believe that they can only feel happy or good about themselves if they have these things. This of course is not true.

In the moral realm, there is very little consensus left in Western countries over the proper basis of moral behavior. And because of the power of the media, for millions of men and women the only venue where moral questions are discussed and weighed is the talk show, where more often than not the primary aim is to entertain, even shock, not to think. When Geraldo and Oprah become the arbiters of public morality, when the opinion of the latest media personality is sought on everything from abortion to transvestites, when banality is mistaken for profundity because [it's] uttered by a movie star or a basketball player, it is not surprising that there is less thought than hype. Oprah shapes more of the nation's grasp of right and wrong than most of the pulpits in the land. Personal and social ethics have been removed from the realms of truth and structures of thoughts; they have not only been relativized, but they have been democratized and trivialized.

It's the easiest thing in the world to get to California-you just aim yourself west and start walking.

The heavy rain dripped off his thick leather hat and sloshed on the dry hard ground. To someone with a soul, it might have been peaceful, pretty, even to watch the drops bounce and form graceful puddles before they disappeared into the cracks in the Earth.Daniel Marlin merely cursed. He only saw the weather as another delay before they could rescue their brother from jail. He turned the horse back into the copse of trees, hating to admit defeat.

The general public of the wireless western nations are very tolerant to the radiation poisoning of the next generation of children by their corporate controlled governments.

A few of the gunslingers dance, but only a few. And they were the young ones. The other ones only sat, and it seemed to me they were half embarrassed in all that light, that civilized light.

Seems a lot of men never saw one such as me. A girl what could keep up and fight and ride and curse with the best of them. A girl what ain’t trapped in some dress or some house or some bed. A girl what ain’t waiting on some man to do what she ought to her own damn self.

But wasn’t time for what was. Was time to settle up the future.

Many lessons can be learned from the history of Western civilization, but one of them is especially clear. Lack of involvement in the affairs of one's society can lead to a sense of powerlessness. In an age that is often crisis-laden and chaotic, an understanding of our Western heritage and its lessons can be instrumental in helping us create new models for the future. For we are all creators of history, and the future of Western and indeed world civilization depends on us.

They began to come upon chains and packsaddles, singletrees, dead mules, wagons. Saddletrees eaten bare of their rawhide coverings and weathered white as bone, a light chamfering of miceteeth along the edges of the wood. They rode through a region where iron will not rust nor tin tarnish. The ribbed frames of dead cattle under their patches of dried hide lay like the ruins of primitive boats upturned upon that shoreless void and they passed lurid and austere the black and desiccated shapes of horses and mules that travelers had stood afoot.

This ferry was taken over by the Yumas and operated for them by a man named Callaghan, but within days it was burned and Callaghan's headless body floated anonymously downriver, a vulture standing between the shoulderblades in clerical black, silent rider to the sea.

It was one of those dreams from which she woke up depressed about her reality, filled with a longing that pulled at her insides, wishing the dream could have lasted forever, or at least much longer than it had.

It is not an unusual life curve for Westerners - to live i n and be shaped by the bigness, sparseness, space clarity & hopefulness of the West, to go away for study and enlargement and the perspective that distance and dissatisfaction can give, and then to return to what pleases the sight and enlists the loyalty and demands the commitment.

SUN, MOON, AND STARRY SKYEarly summer evenings, when the first stars come out, the warm glow of sunset still stains the rim of the western sky.Sometimes, the moon is also visible, a pale white slice, while the sun tarries.Just think -- all the celestial lights are present at the same time!These are moments of wonder -- see them and remember.

And in the silence what followed, I reckon our eyes had some long conversation our mouths could’ve never talked through. Some long, looking talk about things gone and long since said. About cries out in the night and some long ago tangling of limbs. And about them betrayals done time and time again—by both of us—what led to me pointing the Green Man’s rifle at the man what once loved me under the Green Man’s stars.

Maybe I’d lost something. Maybe I’d lost a lot—more, even, than I could suffer—but I still had my own self. And lonesome as I might be, wasn’t no force on Earth or from above what could make me less.

But tell you true, I honestly didn’t think nothing about the Green Man beefing that posse. Was just men and the world’s full of them.

You shut your door to these poor women," he said so they could hear him, "and you'll answer for it the rest of your lives. You won't sleep. You'll choke on drinks. The food you eat'll block up your bowels and you'll die of your own shit.

The night sky is filled brimful as a night sky can be, lit brightly as it is with clusters of planets and pulsating stars and marriages of galaxies, all of it within a wobble of dust and gas and debris unseen. There are the Dippers Little and Big tonight, a lovely Pleiades, and a throbbing red star out like a tiny heart. This is the stuff of which we are made, I say to Son, all that is of us above us. We stand together looking upward, our mouths hung open as if to swallow what's above down and into us. Looking out at the past in its far distance, where from there, he we are not.

These ideas fit the experience of these Japanese women who often talked about searching for or trying to develop "self" (jibun). Cultivating or polishing self by doing tea ceremony or being a good mother, for example, had a good connotation for the Japanese because it meant that you were trying to go beyond your narrow self and connect self with the larger world beyond social norms. But developing self in the new way these women used it meant to develop self according to just what you want to do or in a way that enhances your own possibilities in the world. Would others see choosing a life for self as selfish? These women had to maintain some ambiguity because they were wandering into dangerous territory when they wanted to travel just to enjoy themselves, or keep working and not marry. In a society that honored the cultivation of a larger self, would they themselves someday suffer for having chosen the self-centered way?

We live in truly unbelievable times. Autism is an epidemic in most westerncountries, western governments are nothing more than corrupt corporations, and corporations areroutinely suppressing information regarding the toxicity of many common household items. The resultis that many people are unnecessarily suffering from easily preventable developmental problems,sickness and cancer.

wasn’t no bit of me willing to ride shotgun to my own funeral.

I was the luckiest girl. Don’t you think because I didn’t have no proper man or husband I was anything else. Wasn’t no place I’d rather be than right there. Even now, I pine for that uncomfortable rock. Because he was watching over me and loneliness was some far off thing, echoing off the Rock from other folks. Wasn’t nothing could ruin it for me.

Ain’t no good ever comes of it, if you ain’t steering yourself.

Was like the Green Man said, some you got to put to the bullet. Some to the tongue. Often the latter, with me. But some, you just got to put behind you.

Was still between Martha and Jane, then, I was. Between the girl I was and who I wanted to be.

A tree.” She spotted one. It was hidden behind a much larger tree, its limbs misshapen in its attempt to fight for even a little sunlight in the shadow. “Dana has this tradition of giving a sad-looking tree the honor of being a Christmas tree.” She walked over to the small, nearly hidden tree. “I like this one. “It’s…” He laughed. “Ugly?” “No, it’s beautiful because it’s had a hard life. It’s struggled to survive against all odds and would keep doing that without much hope. But it has a chance to be something special.

He locked gazes with her. “I have to wonder why you aren’t being straight with me. I hate getting myself killed without knowing why.

He’d been trying to save this woman in his dreams for years. Now here she was, all grown up, and he still felt helpless.

I want to die.” May shook her head. “Let me get a knife.” “I’ve made a horrible mess of things.” “Haven’t we all? If you don’t want your supper burned, die quietly while I get back to the kitchen.

DJ saw the change in his expression the moment before he dropped the ax, reached out with his gloved hand and, cupping her neck, drew her to him. “I believe you owe me a kiss.

She had an ass that could make any man sin."~ Gunner Wilson

I only swing for one girl. But if she's into a certain kind of kink, who am I to deny her such pleasantries?"~ Luke Wagner

Have you checked your ass out lately? It’s pretty dang distracting, darling.” ~ Gunner Wilson

Jackson couldn't bear to see Allie like this. He pulled her to him and, dropping his mouth to hers, kissed her. She leaned into him, letting him draw her even closer as the kiss deepened. Fireworks lit the night, booming in a blaze of glittering light before going dark again. Desire ignited his blood. He wanted Allie like he'd never wanted anyone or anything before.

I know what you're up to.""I doubt that." Hayes leaned toward her, his hand looping around the back of McKenzie's neck as he gently drew her to him. "Because if you could see what I was up to, then you'd know I was about to kiss you.

A scratching of melody comes from the radio, chords rising open as the land that carries us, rhythm mimicking our passage down the road, harmony making this life seem it should be only that. We sing along to what songs have always been about- beginning, going on, breaking up, forgiving, We sing in missed words and broken phrases as glints of tiger moths fly at us like snow, streaking the windshield over.

I laugh. Yer crazy, I says.I was fine till I met you, he says.

Keep a spur handy.

Tom stood and cautiously walked over to where the thief lay. He kicked the Colt away from the dirty, lifeless fingers and muttered, “You made me waste a perfectly good breakfast, you manure-headed son of a bitch…

The twenty hooves of the horses slowed their relentless cadence on the damp ground as they approached the town. A sudden cloudburst had only just ended, and steaming snorts emitted from the winded mounts. From behind the edge of the bizarre leather mask that covered half of the leader’s face, a small smile of recognition curled on his chapped lips.

They caught up their horses and turned back. Nothing moved in that high wilderness save the wind. They did not speak. They were men of another time for all that they bore christian names and they had lived all their lives in a wilderness as had their fathers before them. They'd learnt war by warring, the generations driven from the eastern shore across a continent, from the ashes at Gnadenhutten onto the prairies and across the outlet to the bloodlands of the west. If much in the world were mystery the limits of that world were not, for it was without measure or bound and there were contained within it creatures more horrible yet and men of other colors and beings which no man has looked upon and yet not alien none of it more than were their own hearts alien in them, whatever wilderness contained there and whatever beasts.

Boy oh boy, this man is trouble. He was slowly tearing down the wall she’d built around her heart, brick by brick. Could any man be this perfect? He must have some faults. Maybe he is a chauvinist pig…no, doesn’t seem like it. He is kind to animals and children, he is a fireman, he looks like sex on a stick. What could be wrong with him? Maybe he snores. Oh, wouldn’t I like to find out?

Full of intrigue, tangled pasts, and raw emotions, [Gambling On A Secret by Sara Walter Ellwood] is guaranteed to keep you turning pages from start to finish and then wishing for one more chapter!

Arms still crossed, Lindsay's clogs tapped on the sidewalk. “So Sam didn’t tell you I was a desperate orphan child with no life outside of work? This isn’t some kind of intervention, some kind of lame attempt to cheer me up?” He grinned.“Why would she do that?” “Because that’s how it sounded.” Nudging her shoulder, he grinning down at her. “You don’t look desperate, Dr. Lindsay, not by a long shot." “That’s because you don’t know me.” Lindsay bit her lower lip, arms still crossed, clogs still tap-tap-tapping. Her chest heaved. “My parent’s died in a car accident almost two years ago. It’s a difficult thing to get over. I’m still not exactly right. I guess she worries about me.” Ty sucked in his breath, thinking fast. “I’m really sorry about your parents, Linds.” As he put an arm around her shoulder, she broke into a self-conscious smile and shook her head. “Spend any time with me at all and you’ll find that Sam’s right. I’m a desperate orphan child, completely paranoid and irrepressibly horny.” “Whoa!” She looked so cute, but vulnerable, too. He closed the arm around her shoulder, squeezing her sideways to his chest. Embarrassed, she smiled as she elbowed his rib. Then she dropped her arms and stayed put, tucked close against him. It felt right, having her there.

Arms still crossed, Lindsay's clogs tapped on the sidewalk. “So Sam didn’t tell you I was a desperate orphan child with no life outside of work? This isn’t some kind of intervention, some lame attempt to cheer me up?” He grinned.“Why would she do that?” “Because that’s how it sounded.” Nudging her shoulder, he grinning down at her. “You don’t look desperate, Dr. Lindsay, not by a long shot. “That’s because you don’t know me.” Lindsay bit her lower lip, arms still crossed, clogs still tap-tap-tapping. Her chest heaved. “My parent’s died in a car accident almost two years ago. It’s a difficult thing to get over. I’m still not exactly right. I guess she worries about me.” Ty sucked in his breath, thinking fast. “I’m really sorry about your parents, Linds.” As he put an arm around her shoulder, she broke into a self-conscious smile, and shook her head. “Spend any time with me at all and you’ll find that Sam’s right. I’m a desperate orphan child, completely paranoid and irrepressibly horny.” “Whoa!” She looked so cute, but vulnerable, too, against him. He closed the arm around her shoulder, squeezing her sideways to his chest. Embarrassed, she smiled as she elbowed his rib. Then she dropped her arms and stayed put, tucked close against him. It felt right, having her there.

I know what it’s like to be different. I’m a Native American in a white world.

Snuggle up with a hot fireman! Meet Tanner West.Sharon looked up into the most gorgeous face she had ever seen. Eyes like dark chocolate, deep and warm, stared out at her from a face that looked like it could have been chiseled in stone. Skin the color of burnished copper, high cheekbones, a sharp nose, full lips, and a cleft chin. How the hell had she failed to notice him before? Her heart skipped a beat and she ran her gaze down the rest of his body. He was tall, well over six feet, she would guess, with broad shoulders that tapered into a trim waist. His thighs, encased in worn denim, fit like a second skin against legs the size of tree trunks, and oh my, what lay between those thighs… Her attention snapped back to his face and she could feel the heat of a blush suffuse her skin.

The hand at her back stroked up and down. Never straying too far south, but igniting a fire inside her that she wanted this fireman to stoke instead of extinguish

She always thought of Aaron as special not less. He was God’s gift to her, and she wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Sharon looked at Aaron and smiled. She’d made the right decision, hadn’t she? Would she come to regret this decision too? She’d made so many mistakes in the past. Was this another one? No, self-doubt isn’t an option. Everything is going to work out here. It has to.

She loved her son and wanted him to make a fresh start here. Her ex-husband always tried to pass Aaron off as normal, not wanting anyone to know his son was different. She wasn’t going to go down that road.

She was partial to the tie. Not too long ago he did unspeakable things to her with that tie.

One more salt to try," Kellan said, reaching into the box. He brought a jar of black, flaky crystals up to the light. "Black diamond finishing salt. Extremely rare and too bold for those with meek palates. But, for a true connoisseur, the flavor is incomparable." He lowered her head and torso to the ground and pushed her sweater up to expose her stomach and ribs. "I want to sample it on your skin.

First of all, I’m not a ‘military type.’ Second, I never proclaimed to be a gentleman of any kind. I just like the facts straight up. There’s no bullshit to wade through to get to the truth." Dylan

I think of it like a caterpillar--a wrinkly, ugly worm with traces of dull colors on it. But when the worm metamorphoses, it becomes something truly beautiful.” Charli

There,” he said with a smirk. “Now I don’t have a swim suit either.”Andi bit her bottom lip and felt the heat begin to flood her cheeks. The sharp pinch on her arm snapped her out of her trance and she quickly swatted at the bug. “Okay, okay. Turn around and don’t peak.” The light from the moon made it easy for her to see his questioning glare. “What?”“Turn around?” Zane asked, trying to hold back a smile. “Need I remind you that I’ve seen you naked before, Miss Ford.”—Zane and Andi in, Zane: The McKades of Texas

People don’t really have much of a choice when the heart falls. I’m lucky enough that mine just so happened to fall for you, Misty.”—Dylan to Misty in, When the Heart Falls

Screw you, cowboy!” she yelled after him, saying the word exactly as she had before. “And that horse you rode in on.”And—Whoops!—now everyone in the diner had turned to look at them.Zane turned around to her with amusement on his face. “Very original, princess.

Was Jane now. All Jane. Come calamity or come calm, was myself and none else.

If the only option you leave poor people with is to resort to violence in order to survive, they’ll do just that. And there are lots more poor people in this world than there are rich ones.

A joke is a witticism or play on words that’s meant to be funny. I say ‘meant to be’ because most jokes aren’t funny. They range between mildly amusing and grimace-inducingly annoying.

You shouldn’t say mean things to people before they kill you. It’s being a sore loser.

Let them come. We’ve got helicopters, tanks, jets, and big guns. We’ve got armies of robots. What do they have but their stench and the squalor they live in?

There’s a big difference between being numb to something and being immune to it.

Well you know what they say. It’s always raining somewhere.

You’ll find a way. You’ll always find a way. And on the rare occasions when you can’t, you’ll have friends who will.

Humans have been doin’ awful things to each other throughout history. Humanity’s not as great as you make it out to be. I do what needs to be done, and that’s that. We’re about to go to war, Earl. There ain’t no humanity in war.

We all end up dying in the end. It’s just a question of how and when.

As far as I know, there’s nothing more dangerous than a man who doesn’t care if he lives or dies.

A good friend is someone who gets ya drunk and then walks ya home afterwards.

Everyone has the right to believe whatever he or she wants. Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, atheitsts, and every other religion. People can follow whichever they choose. Even if you and I believe Christianity is the truth, we must allow others to choose their own beliefs. You can’t force anyone to believe something they don’t, anyway.

Our world must be hell, then. It must be the hell of some other place where all of us committed atrocious sins of some sort, and now we’re stuck here until we die and either come back or are whisked off to some other hell. It couldn’t be worse than this one, though.

He could argue a case for anything, but that doesn’t change the fact he’s wrong most of the time.

Don’t stay with someone who drives you crazy. Find someone who keeps you sane.

Well, for one, you walk around like you’re so much better than everyone else. We’re all a bunch of soulless animals or somethin’ in your eyes, I guess. You’re the high and mighty one and I ain’t fit to drink your piss.

We don’t want our politicians bending to the whims of whichever corporation has the money to pay them off.

People didn’t love all of this when they still had it. If you love something, you do what’s best for it. You don’t destroy it.

Well one tiny poisonous spider can kill a very large man if it bites him in the right place.

The storage capacity of the average human brain is two-hundred and fifty-six exabytes. However, the average adult human only uses approximately one billionth of that storage space effectively. This means my knowledge capacity is approximately three thousand trillion times that of your average human.

A leader’s first duty is to look after his or her people, especially those who are sick, hungry, or thirsty.

Ask very pointed questions. Sharp as sword blades, or laser blasts, if you catch my meaning.

That’s what you people do, isn’t it? Make assumptions and sell them to impressionable idiots.

Money is a tool we use to reach certain ends. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s hard to come by, though, so when opportunities arise, we need to make the most of them.

We need to keep government small, but we also need to keep the influence of big business small, and we need to keep the power in the hands of the people, where it belongs. Big government and big business aren’t the only two alternatives.

That was a double negative, Jemail. By saying that you haven’t seen nobody, you’re actually saying that you have seen somebody.

There comes a time when a man has to kill his own snakes.

Unearth marvels as you walk the path,Stand in awe,Therein is the joy of life.

What you mons making all the racket about? You wake me again and I’ll put the voodoo hex on you. All you only call me Tuberculosis behind my back now. You want the real thing?” Sergeant "T. B" Tinkerbelle Bettina Jones.

The new enlightened self-understanding reminds us that there is no final destination to our journey. The process itself is the destination. There is nowhere we need to arrive to.

I tell you, mister, if there’s anything good about being a hot-tempered bitch, it’s knowing right well what buttons to push in others seeing as they’re the same ones what get your own back up.

I felt a hole boring through my heart. It was carving a scar that would never heal. I was a man. A man doesn't cry at lost love. Never. Instead, he turns hard. From now on, I would live up to my name"...Rattler.

He loves deep... hates hard, ever'thing's that killed what he loves. All great warriors are sich men.

I am what I am... but for the first time in my life, I'm sorry for it.

There are no doubts that western governments are willfully inducing radiation sickness into segments of their city populations.

States are far less violent than traditional bands and tribes. Modern Western countries, even in their most war-torn centuries, suffered no more than around a quarter of the average death rate of nonstate societies, and less than a tenth of that for the most violent one.

Girls should be taught at school that giving birth to an unnaturally over-sized western baby that no longer fits down the birth canal may lead to a multitude of long term health problems.

Every dog has its day. Some even bite.

He traced her arched eyebrow. “Every morning when I wake up with you at my side, you’re more beautiful than yesterday.

Gentle With Them Thar Spurs'—a sequel to 'Riders of the Purple Sau-Sage.' Spurs was the feminist novel of its day…which was Tuesday." —Bats 2015

There is, perhaps, no class of men on the face of the earth, says Captain Bonneville, who lead a life of more continued exertion, peril, and excitement, and who are more enamored of their occupations, than the free trappers of the West. No tail, no danger, no privation can turn the trapper from his pursuit. His passionate excitement at times resembles mania. In vain may the most vigilant and cruel savages best his path, in vain may rocks and precipices and wintry torrents oppose his progress, let but a single track of a beaver meet his eye, and he forgets all the dangers and defies all difficulties. At times, he may be seen with his traps on his shoulder, buffeting his way across rapid streams, amidst floating blocks of ice: at other times, he is to be found with his traps swung on his back clambering the most rugged mountains, scaling or descending the most frightful precipices, searching, by routes inaccessible to the horse, and never before trodden by white man, for springs and lakes unknown to his comrades, and where he may meet with his favorite game. Such is the mountaineer, the hardy trapper of the West, and such, as we have slightly sketched it, is the wild, Robin Hood kind of life, with all its strange and motley populace, now existing in full vigor among the Rocky Mountains.

Unfortunately for him he looked more like an innocent man on America’s terror watch-list rather than a gallant Viking possessing all the benefits of modernity. More like a villain in a Western fairy tale with his slicked-bouffant obsidian hair rather than the long sun-like curls that all great saviors of the poor have been obliged to possess. I squinted to the side towards him for a second and he caught my gaze almost immediately; his inky irises were comfortable enough to hold my stare indefinitely, his pupils seemed entirely ravenous as opposed to the feminist preferred oceanic turquoise, which for them is a physical demarcation of emotional sensitivity. He seemed like an uncanny bad guy any which way I looked at him, except of course, by his actions thus far…

We’re not a people worth saving, plain and simple. We’re completely beyond that—both the undead and the few still living. Yeah, 'living.' Some life, huh? But it’s the only life we could ever possibly live if we want to stay alive another day. It’s our life that terrifies me.

Right and wrong isn’t a matter of ethics, rather it’s the geography in which you reside and whose control you’re under. Tallinn Manual 2.0 is based largely on western international humanitarian law.

Western governments use thermal heating standards for public protection from the damaging effects of wireless radio frequency (RF) radiation. Eastern governments use biological standards that are much lower due to the extensive long term radiation damage that has been seen to occur in humans at the western thermal heating standard.

The truth be told, Lord, I don't like you very much right now.

The sun glanced off a long, wicked looking knife in the Comanche's grip. At least Cash wouldn't have long to mourn. The other Indians held similar weapons, but they hung back as their leader knelt next to Sullivan. He muttered something, low and guttural, a single syllable that sounded like an insult, then picked up a lock of Sullivan's hair. The knife descended toward his scalp. "No!" Reese shouted. "Me." The Comanche paused and stared at him with a spark of interest, almost admiration. But that couldn't be since the Indian had no idea what Reese was saying. He continued to try anyway. "Me first." He struggled, wishing he could use his hands to point at himself. "Shut the hell up, Reese," Sullivan said. "What possible difference does it make who they kill first?" "Who knows what might happen. While they're working on me, anyone could show up and save the rest of you." "In that case, me first," Cash drawled. "Me." "No. Yo primero!""Kid, I'm the only one without a wife and far too many children. No one would miss me." "I would." The words were punctuated by the distinct sound of a rifle being cocked. All eyes turned toward the man who had appeared at the edge of the clearing. Cash's sigh of relief was in direct contrast to the sneer in his voice. "About damn time, Rev. We've been waitin' on you.

Son of a bitch!" Cash erupted. "He's wearing Nate's guns." Reese had been too occupied gazing into those eyes to notice the oddity of a gun belt strapped around a naked waist. Cash was right. Those were Nate's pretty pearl pistols. Reese had never liked those guns. He liked them even less now. "Sullivan, ask him where he got those," Cash demanded. "What gave you the idea I can speak Comanche?" "Because you are one?" "You're a jackass, but I don't expect you to talk to a donkey." "This is no time to be funny, breed." "Then quit trying so hard.

And then you realize one day that you can't remember her scent and nothing smells like her anymore. You can't remember how she feels or the sound of her voice. You haven't thought of her every second of every day. Then--then you feel more alone than on the day you lost her.

Tex’ forearm twitched before he snarled again; “Lay…the…fuck…off.” Each word dripped with venom.“We will but first I want to make sure you take my meaning – take it as gospel. Play your little game, fuck her bow-legged but when it comes down to a choice between you or her getting hurt, I’ll put a bullet in her pretty little head so fast you’ll think you imagined her.” With that, he walked off. Cy following behind. They tipped their hats to Elena as they passed her.

One cowboy is never enough.

Turns out ovaries work just as good as balls when you're in the driver's seat.

Slaughter personified to him every evil of this war. It would never end for Tom until he had dealt with Slaughter. His chance had been delayed last night. The next time he encountered the Colonel, he’d kill him.

And if revenge was all I had, then I was goddamned if it wouldn’t be enough.

what I like and what I need’s two different things.

It looks like you’ll be dying in Hellfire after all, Captain!” Slaughter shouted. “Just like your family in that Georgia shack did. Ha! Oh yes, I heard their screams inside! It was music to my ears!” Tom shouted back across the flames. “Whether you die by my hands today or not, you’ll be the one in Hell, with your twin Lucifer, you MURDERING BASTARD!

You’re a lady. It’s written all over you, but the West doesn’t forgive any woman-unless she’s got a man.

When giving up is not an option, you survive at any cost.

I’m not trying to start an argument with you,” William assured him. “I suppose I don’t know what it’s like to be a true revolutionary, though I think I’ve held some…similar…ideals. At times. Thought I could change things, if I fought hard enough.”“What did you try to change?”“Myself, in hopes that it would change others’ opinions of me.”“That is a bit more selfish than what we aspire to,” Luis clarified.William shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, I pressed others to change as well. Guess I just didn’t fight hard enough for any of it.

If others fell by the wayside, dear women and strong, loved by men, how had she, single and unloved, kept her sanity?

That got me to laughing too. His laughter, like his yelling, got into you until you was right soaked with it. So you couldn’t help yourself. But it felt good. Light. I tell you, I hadn’t felt like that in a long while.

Can’t count on no miracles. Sometimes, you just got to have a plan.

Becca watched Tucker bend at the waist. Mmm, mmm. He was sure built nice. From the top of his felt hat to the tips of his worn leather boots. Those leather chaps he'd just slung around his hips weren't too bad, either. He reached back to buckle the chap straps first around one jean-clad thigh, and then the other. And she'd thought the rodeo would be boring. Ha! She could watch Tucker do this all day. Buckle and unbuckle. Bend and stand. She let out a sign filled with pure contentment. "All right, Em. I'll admit it. Cowboys are hot." Next to her, Emma laughed. "Oh, yeah.

Clinton leaned in close, breath stinking. “I’m a well-compensated lawman, Reb. Let’s leave it at that. You’ll never prove anything else.” “You’re no lawman. You are a whore,” Tom growled.

She looked up and their eyes locked. “Want to be my birthday present?” she asked in a breathy whisper.Chase’s mother didn’t raise any fools. He released her hips and trailed his hand down her arm until their fingers entwined.“Let’s get out of here.”He tugged her from the dance floor, trying not to rush like he was running from a fire. But, damn. There was a fire in his britches.

The terrible price of living, ain’t it? To live through others dying?

not knowing what I needed to do or where I needed to go, I knew all the same that I was going in the right direction.

Don’t matter none how bad it gets sometimes. You can always turn this shit around.

I was not much used to women except for mothers. Everything I did, they did different.

There is a great independence, and a confident immunity to risk, in all drinks made out of cactus.

What? An alien. You think I'm from outer space." She snorts in disbelief. "I'm Kelly Tillman, you dumb-ass. From 41 Montana Avenue, Valentine, Texas. What's left of it. I canned seventh grade for a piece-of-crap job with lousy tips and lousy hours. You ain't telling me I'm the outsider here. No way.

Great," mumbles Kelly. "Bat stew cooked on a bat shit fire by an old bat.

This is a robbery. Sorry for the inconvenience'n'all but if you don't line up out here at the count of five then I'm gonna get all trigger-happy on your ass. One, two...

Visitation Day - I was not even born yet when the world stopped turning, twenty years ago. It is hard for me to imagine that moment, though I have heard the tale many times, for I have never seen the light of the moon or a sunrise

There is no better place to heal a broken heart than on the back of a horse.

No soldier outlives a thousand chances. But every soldier believes in Chance and trusts his luck.

Jack glanced toward the dressing room, not believing that all the time he had been with her, she had been half-naked...

When I envied a man's spurs then they were indeed worth coveting.

he had offered some of his own background. A youth in the South. An education in the North. Bred for life in the East. Trying not to die in the West.

You know, you really don't have to kill anyone over this. I'll get an annulment. It will be like never happened"His eyes came to her, briefly meeting her gaze before dropping to her mouth. "You'll have to make that a divorce instead""No you don't understand. An annulment will be much easier to obtain"His gaze locked with hers now. Cassie became slightly breathless with the intensity of his stare."Not after tonight, it won't." He said in his mesmerizing drawl."Why?" She barely got the word out."Because i'm in the mood to play husband""You're what?"He started toward her. She was too stunned to move, so he was there and reaching for her before she had time to think about running."We're having a wedding night," he said as he lifted her off her feet.--

Ain’t nothing scarier than someone with nothing.

Life don't care 'bout sorry's," Will says. "Bad things happen, and you can't let 'em harden you. Whatever happened to yer pa, it ain't yer fault, Nate, and you gotta let it go.