Accidental Hero Quotes

Everyone thinks you've been kidnapped," he said. "We've been scouring the ship. When Coach Hedge finds out- oh, gods, you've been here all night?" "Frank!" Annabeth's ears were as red as strawberries. "We just came down here to talk. We fell asleep. Accidentally. That's it." "Kissed a couple of times," Percy said. Annabeth glared at him. "Not helping!

[Piper] rushed to get dressed. By the time she got up on deck, the others had already gathered—all hastily dressed except for Coach Hedge, who had pulled the night watch. Frank’s Vancouver Winter Olympics shirt was inside out. Percy wore pajama pants and a bronze breastplate, which was an interesting fashion statement. Hazel’s hair was all blown to one side as though she’d walked through a cyclone; and Leo had accidentally set himself on fire. His T-shirt was in charred tatters. His arms were smoking.

Once he'd even reprogrammed the electronic billboards in Time Square to read: ALL DA LADIES LUV LEO... accidentally, of course.

Once he’d even reprogrammed the electronic billboards in Times Square to read: ALL DA LADIES LUV LEO…accidentally, of course.

Imagination is ever changing and never static.

I'm just a kid who would really love to no be dissected.

designing a secret passage, where would I put it? He could sometimes figure out how a machine worked by putting his hand on it. He’d learned to fly a helicopter that way. He’d fixed Festus the dragon that way (before Festus crashed and burned). Once he’d even reprogrammed the electronic billboards in Times Square to read: ALL DA LADIES LUV LEO…accidentally, of course.

If you're going to play what-if --which, by the way, is a huge waste of time and energy, not to mention an act of supreme, center-of-the-universe narcissism-- you have to play it both ways. If you're going to imagine yourself as an accidental villain, you have to give yourself equal time as an unwitting hero. As somebody who prevented God-knows-what dire disaster simply by doing exactly the things you did.

You have to drive! You think I trust that big blue knucklehead to get us there?

The bar was bursting with guys tonight—seriously, it was like Muscles R Us up in here, all filled-out chests and bulging arms with biceps upon biceps.

CRUSHING THE SPIRIT OF CHILDHOOD SINCE 1898.

You started that one.” Her mouth dropped open. “I didn’t say anything!” “Sweetheart, your eyes said it all.” He lowered his hand from his cuffs and jerked his chin out toward the darkness lit with twinkling bug butts. “Now, behave, will you? I’m trying to watch bugs catch a mate. See if I can’t get some tips.” “Hell, make your ass glow, and I might take back everything I’ve said about you.

This spicy historical will steal your breath, and capture your heart. -Susan Sigler, Love Romance Passion

We were kids in college with no responsibilities. It takes more than a wedding to make a marriage,” she said sadly.

The whole thing is too abstract, continued Zafar, this business of our lives standing for something else. All we know is that we don’t want it to stand for nothing. So we dive headlong into becoming heroes, becoming the big swinging dick on Wall Street or the rock star or the hot-shot human rights lawyer. Which is about making our lives stand for something that our intelligence can grasp, saving us from confronting what we fear might be true—or what we would fear if we gave ourselves the chance—namely, that we’re accidental pieces of flesh, mutton without meaning.

Disaster followed disaster... the hero stuck in there, though. Macon had long ago noticed that all adventure movies had the same moral: Perseverance pays. Just once he'd like to see a hero like himself -- not a quitter, but a man who did face facts and give up gracefully when pushing on was foolish.

Courage is merely a result of vanity and pride. We act valiantly not out of selfless concern and responsibility but out of our own conceit and egoism. If not for an audience there would be less heroes.

The many ... whom one chooses to call the people, are indeed a collection, but only as a multitude, a formless mass, whose movement and action would be elemental, irrational, savage, and terrible." "Public opinion deserves ... to be esteemed as much as to be despised; to be despised for its concrete consciousness and expression, to be esteemed for its essential fundamental principle, which only shines, more or less dimly, through its concrete expression." "The definition of the freedom of the press as freedom to say and write what one pleases, is parallel to the one of freedom in general, viz., as freedom to do what one pleases. Such a view belongs to the uneducated crudity and superficiality of naïve thinking." "In public opinion all is false and true, but to discover the truth in it is the business of the great man. The great man of his time is he who expresses the will and the meaning of that time, and then brings it to completion; he acts according to the inner spirit and essence of his time, which he realizes. And he who does not understand how to despise public opinion, as it makes itself heard here and there, will never accomplish anything great." "The laws of morality are not accidental, but are essentially Rational. It is the very object of the State that what is essential in the practical activity of men, and in their dispositions, should be duly recognized; that it should have a manifest existence, and maintain its position. It is the absolute interest of Reason that this moral Whole should exist; and herein lies the justification and merit of heroes who have founded states - however rude these may have been." "Such are all great historical men, whose own particular aims involve those large issues which are the will of the World Spirit. ... World historical men - the Heroes of an epoch - must be recognized as its clear-sighted ones; their deeds, their words are the best of that time. Great men have formed purposes to satisfy themselves, not others." "A World-Historical individual is devoted to the One Aim, regardless of all else. It is even possible that such men may treat other great, even sacred interests inconsiderately; conduct which is indeed obnoxious to moral reprehension. But so mighty a form must trample down many an innocent flower or crush to pieces many an object in its path.

To my surprise, his head flew right off! It was as if his head was made of cardboard. Everyone screamed! Holy Moly! I guess I don’t know my own strength. I had accidentally killed the village chief. After that, everyone just ran away from me.

May I see your dance card?” “Don’t you believe me?” She presented it to him with a flourish. He ran his fingers down the list of names. “Hmm . . . Waterburn? Bastard. D’Andre. Definitely a worthless bastard. Lord Camber, a thoroughgoing bastard. Lord Michaelson? Bastard. Peter Cheswick? Bast—” She snatched it from him, laughing. “I wouldn’t dance a waltz with you, anyway, Lord Dryden.” “No?” “You might accidentally lock eyes with Lisbeth Redmond, stumble, and fling me across the room to avoid crushing my feet.

In other words, he looked like uniformed police hotness, and she wasn’t entirely uninterested in being cuffed. Wait. That’s a bad thought. I don’t mean it. She took him in again, her throat suddenly dry. Well, she didn’t exactly not mean it, but she knew better than to want it.

Remembering his words tears at my throat. Anytime, son. Any damn time. Whether you hung up the patch or not, you're family. Some people blaze through your life for a few bright seconds. Others remain, even in the shadows, and no matter how infrequently you see them, they're there when the going gets tough.

He caught her staring and waggled his eyebrows. Heat flooded her cheeks, and she worked to recover. “The minivan suits you. I think you should get one.” “Sweetheart, I already have to beat the ladies off me with a stick. If I get one of these bad boys, I might cause a riot.” “Do you ever stop?” “I can go all. Night. Long.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but the official Home Office superhero team is going to have to conform to public expectations of what a superhero team should look like, or it’s not really going to work terribly well. There’s room for one person of color, one female or LGBT, and one disability in a core team of four – if you push it beyond that ratio it’ll lose credibility with the crucial sixteen to twenty-four male target demographic, by deviating too far from their expectations. Remember, reasonable people who acquire superpowers are not our target. This is a propaganda operation aimed at the unreasonable ones: disturbed hero-worshiping nerd-bigots who, if they accidentally acquire superpowers, will go on a Macht Recht spree unless they’re held in check by firm guidance and a role model to channel them in less destructive directions.

You know, the heroes in my romance novels always say that. Scout's honor. But they all later admit to never being a Boy Scout.

Just once he’d like to see a hero like himself—not a quitter, but a man who did face facts and give up gracefully when pushing onward was foolish. He

IN ALL THE YEARS I’ve spent here at Salton Sea State Penitentiary, I swear I never met a scarier man than Big Pete. 

Wodensfang, even though he was normally so keen on teaching the little dragon some manners. Heart lifting, Hiccup recognised the voice of Toothless singing to himself, down in the depths of the ship somewhere. Toothless, thought Hiccup. Thank goodness you’re all right. ‘One hundred and thirty-three thousand four hundred and eighty-nine b-b-bottles hanging on a wall ...’ sang the little dragon sadly, for Toothless was feeling very sorry for himself. ‘One hundred and thirty-three thousand four hundred and eighty-nine bottles hanging on a wall ... and if ONE green bottle should accidentally f-f-fall ... there’ll be one hundred and

What sparked the riots in Britain in 2011 was the shooting of a thug by police. The Left have a penchant for politicising and heralding common criminals as revolutionary heroes. The lionising by the Weather Underground of the murderous sociopaths of the Charles Mason ‘Family’, and even of the accidental derailment in 1947 of a train by little Latino boy, Marion Delgado, are some particularly bizarre examples of the Leftist conception of ‘heroism’.

A guy approached her, beer bottle in one hand, smiling at her in that way guys do when they think they’re good- looking enough to smile and get anything they want. “My friend and I were just talking about what a sausage fest this was, and then you came in.” He ran his appraising gaze down her body, lingering on the V of her neckline. Faith crossed her arms. “That works out, because I’m here for a weenie roast. He put a protective hand over his package—probably without realizing he was doing it—but his smile widened.

Sigmund Freud notably saw in the Oedipus myth a playing out of his theory that infant sons long for a close and exclusive relationship with their mothers, including an (unconscious) sexual one, and hate their fathers for coming between this perfect mother–son union. It is an oft-noted irony that, of all men in history, Oedipus was the one with the least claim to an Oedipus Complex. He left Corinth because the idea of sex with his mother Merope (as he thought) was so repugnant. Not only was his attraction to Jocasta adult (and the incestuous element wholly unwitting), but it came after the killing of his father Laius, which itself was accidental and entirely unconnected to any infant sexual jealousy. None of which put Freud off his stride.

So what's your story?" Maddie didn't try to hide the singsong lilt of her voice as she spoke. She didn't want to. She'd learned at a very young age that nothing annoyed manly men more than girly girls, and if Maddie had one talent, it was truly exceptional girliness. "Shut up and be quiet," Stefan snapped. "That's just a tad redundant, FYI." "Shut up!" he hissed near her ear. Maddie couldn't help but shift her weight from foot to foot, almost pacing in place. She was careful of the ice and the snow, though. No use falling to the ground and having Stefan accidentally pull the trigger. "You really do give a lot of orders," she told him. He tightened his grip. "I'm the one with the gun." "Well, yeah. Sure. Technically. But I'm the one with the winning personality, and that should count for something." "You should be scared," he said in the same tone a movie villain might use to say You should be dead when the hero materializes five years later, hungry for vengeance. Stefan was confused, and Maddie couldn't blame him. So she turned back and shrugged. "Maybe. But I don't think you're a bad guy." He let her go and spun her around, grabbing Logan's unzipped coat and pulling her closer. "I. Have. The. Gun," he reminded her. Maddie smiled and pulled away. "And I have Taylor Swift's signature scent. Doesn't make me a pop star. It just makes me smell like Taylor Swift, which isn't as great as it sounds because, to a bear, Taylor Swift smells delicious. Stefan stuttered for a moment, then fell silent.

Connor felt the bed shift. He could feel the steady stare, but he didn’t open his own eyes—he barely breathed, not wanting to give away the fact that he was awake. He wondered how long it’d take until she gave up on him and left the bed. He was too hung over to deal with it. A wet tongue dragged across his face. The bark that followed was so loud it made his ears ring. Then came more licking. He shoved his dog’s face away, groaning as the bright light pierced his eyeballs. “Fine, I’m up. I’m up.

Their management and regulation of our lives spans the total spectrum of American experience, from their obtuse Imperial Measurement System, to their irregularity-strangled English language. From their lobbyist-ruled government bureaucracy, to their consumer-oriented religious holidays like Christmas. From their brainless professional sports jocks cast as heroes, to their anorexic supermodels warping the concept of beauty. These are the people who made sugary colas more important that water; fast food more important than health; television sitcoms more important than reading literature. They made smoking a joint in your home a crime; going out in public without your hair tinted an embarrassment; and accidentally carrying a half-filled bottle of baby formula on an airplane a terrorist act. Do you realize 85 percent of Americans still say 'God bless you' after someone sneezes? And that 'In God We Trust' is on every single dollar in circulation? Or that 'One nation under God' is recited everyday in the Pledge of Allegiance by millions of impressionable kids?

Hippolyta super strong. Unfortunately, Hippolyta had the bad luck of meeting a guy named Hercules. More on that in a bit. For now, let’s just say there was a big fight, and the Amazons suffered their worst defeat since the invasion of the Wine Dude. In the confusion of battle, Hippolyta was accidentally killed by her own sister, Penthesileia. The belt of the Amazons was lost (at least for a while). The Greeks got away. Penthesileia became the queen, and after mourning her sister’s death, she rebuilt the Amazon army yet again. Even though it was an accident, Penthesileia never forgave herself for Hippolyta’s death. She also never forgave the Greeks. Many years later, when the Trojan War broke out, she signed up to help Priam, the king of Troy, so she could crack Greek skulls and avenge her sister’s death. That didn’t work out so well. Penthesileia fought bravely and slaughtered a bunch of great warriors, but eventually she got killed by the most famous Greek fighter of all—Achilles. When Achilles retrieved her body from the battlefield, he washed her wounds so she could have a proper funeral. He took off her war helmet,

Before he left, Sartre took a small side trip to Araraquara, in the interior of São Paulo state, where he had an unlikely encounter with a Brazilian of truly global stature. The episode is retold in Joseph A. Page’s fine book The Brazilians: As Sartre stood outside a building conversing with a cadre of intellectuals, down the street came Pelé, the world’s greatest soccer star, accompanied by several fans. The two groups converged on a street corner. When they separated, the intellectuals realized they were now following Pelé, and Sartre was walking alone. The intellectuals ran back down the street, a bit embarrassed, and rejoined their French hero. According to Page, many residents still refer to the spot as “Pelé-Sartre Corner.

The materialistic views of our day have a tendency which we can discern in archaic thought. Both lead to the conclusion that the individual is a mere resultant; in the first case, he is the resultant of natural causes, and in the second, of chance occurrences. According to both accounts, human individuality is nothing in its own right, but rather the accidental product of forces contained in the objective environment. This is through and through the archaic conception of the world according to which the single human being is never considered unique, but always interchangeable with any other and easily dispensable. By way of a narrow view of causality, modern materialism has returned to the standpoint of archaic man. But the materialist is more radical, because he is more systematic, than primitive man. The latter has the advantage of being inconsistent; he makes an exception of the mana personality. In the course of history these mana personalities were exalted to the position of divine figures; they became heroes and kings who shared in the immortality of the gods by eating of their rejuvenating food. This idea of the immortality of the individual and of his imperishable worth is to be found in primitive societies, first of all in the belief in ghosts, and then in myths of the age when death had not yet gained an entrance into the world through human carelessness or folly.

On the contrary the depth and profound feeling of the spirit presupposes that the soul has worked its way through its feelings and powers and the whole of its inner life, i.e. that it has overcome much, suffered grief, endured anguish and pain of soul, and yet in this disunion has preserved its integrity and withdrawn out of it into itself. In the myth of Hercules the Greeks have presented us with a hero who after many labours was placed amongst the gods and enjoyed blissful peace there. But what Hercules achieved was only something outside him, the bliss given him as a reward was only peaceful repose. The ancient prophecy that he would put an end to the reign of Zeus, he did not fulfill, supreme hero of the Greeks though he was. The end of that rule only began when man conquered not dragons outside him or Lernaean hydras, but the dragons and hydras of his own heart, the inner obstinacy and inflexibility of his own self. Only in this way does natural serenity become that higher serenity of the spirit which completely traverses the negative moment of disunion and by this labour has won infinite satisfaction. The, feeling of cheerfulness and happiness must be transfigured and purified into bliss. For good fortune and happiness still involve an accidental and natural correspondence between the individual and his external circumstances; but in bliss the good fortune still attendant on a man’s existence as he is in nature falls away and the whole thing is transferred into the inner life of the spirit. Bliss is an acquired satisfaction and justified only on that account; it is a serenity in victory, the soul’s feeling when it has expunged from itself everything sensuous and finite and therefore has cast aside the care that always lies in wait for us. The soul is blissful when, after experiencing conflict and agony, it has triumphed over its sufferings. (α) If we now ask what can be strictly ideal in this subject-matter, the answer is: the reconciliation of the individual heart with God who in his appearance as man has traversed this way of sorrows. The substance of spiritual depth of feeling is religion alone, the peace of the individual who has a sense of himself but who finds true satisfaction only when, self-collected, his mundane heart is broken so that he is raised above his mere natural existence and its finitude, and in this elevation has won a universal depth of feeling, a spiritual depth and oneness in and with God. The soul wills itself, but it wills itself in something other than what it is in its individuality and therefore it gives itself up in face of God in order to find and enjoy itself in him. This is characteristic of love, spiritual depth in its truth, that religious love without desire which gives to the human spirit reconciliation, peace, and bliss. It is not the pleasure and joy of actual love as we know it in ordinary life, but a love without passion, indeed without physical inclination but with only an inclination of soul. Looked at physically, this is a love which is death, a death to the world, so that there hovers there as something past the actual relationship of one person to another; as a real mundane bond and connection this relationship has not come essentially to its perfection; for, on the contrary, it bears in itself the deficiency of time and the finite, and therefore it leads on to that elevation into a beyond which remains a consciousness and enjoyment of love devoid of longing and desire.

The yellow tape had been removed.  A squad car idled on the sidewalk in front of my house as the neighborhood awoke to a new day.  At the wheel sat Chris, the young partner of Lieutenant Jim O’Brien.  Chris glanced my way then turned away.  I couldn’t tell if it was intentional, his sunglasses obscured any hint.  O'Brien was talking to one of the investigators

Some people blaze through your life for a few bright seconds. Others remain, even in the shadows, and no matter how infrequently you see them, they're there when the going gets tough.

Make it a goal, Izzy. Not just a dream.

We’ve got a girls’ chorus of fourteen and they’re running all over the place, with a chaperone who’s driving us nuts and letting them do whatever they want. We’ve got a guy with a baby that hasn’t stopped screaming since we took off, and one of our toilets just broke. You people have the good life up here.

leaned in to plant a kiss on

For this Hektor, Homer's Hektor, who brags outrageously, who sometimes hangs back when the going is worst, who bolts from Achilleus, is still the hero who forever captures the affection and admiration of the modern reader, far more strongly than his conqueror has ever done. Such are the accidental triumphs of Homer.

You’re a damn hero, Mr. Chest. Now say my name.” He started laughing while gasping, still face down, and groaned Izzy! at the top of his lungs. She smiled and nodded. “That’s right, baby. You say it.

She was smiling at him gently. 'Have you really only just realised that? The fact he took you was nothing for you to be ashamed of. You were an accidental hero

simple. 

Big Pete didn’t like being distracted by those Bible verses, minutes before he took out a preacher in cold blood. He shook it off like a mosquito sucking blood from his neck.  The red carpeted aisle to the front of the auditorium seemed to go on forever.  Where

When Big Pete first arrived here at Salton’s death row, everyone said to me, “Yo, B! (my name’s Brian, but that ain’t so cool, so all my brothers calls me “B” instead) What’s it like being Big Pete’s cellie?  You scared he gonna kill you in your sleep?”  I just smiled and let them guess.  It gave me some respect with the other inmates that I was a brother sharing a cell with the big, white, killing machine—and was still alive every morning.  But they didn’t know Big Pete like I do.  And I’m sure gonna miss him when he’s gone.

worship

Their management and regulation of our lives spans the total spectrum of American experience, from their obtuse Imperial Measurement System, to their irregularity-strangled English language. From their lobbyist-ruled government bureaucracy, to their consumer-oriented religious holidays like Christmas. From their brainless professional sports jocks cast as heroes, to their anorexic supermodels warping the concept of beauty. These are the people who made sugary colas more important than water; fast food more important than health; television sitcoms more important than reading literature. They made smoking a joint in your home a crime; going out in public without your hair tinted an embarrassment; and accidentally carrying a half-filled bottle of baby formula on an airplane a terrorist act. Do you realize 85 percent of Americans still say ‘God bless you’ after someone sneezes? And that ‘In God We Trust’ is on every U.S. dollar in circulation? Or that ‘One nation under God’ is recited every day in the Pledge of Allegiance by millions of impressionable kids?

Accepted.

At the end of the Cosmographiae, Waldseemüller included a number of woodblock prints that could be removed and pasted together to form a large map. At the top of it, an allegorical portrait of Ptolemy faced east, while ‘Americus Vespucius’ faced west. It was the first map to show the two Americas connected by a land bridge, and separated from Asia by a new ocean. The overall proportions were wrong, but the contour of the eastern coast of South America was fairly accurate. And along that coastline, he placed the word AMERICA.

through his scalp.  What was with these people at In-N-Out?  And why, after all these years, was he suddenly noticing these verses—the night before…? Pete pulled out his iPhone and googled the verse.  Like a heavy blanket, dread fell over him.  It read: Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hears my voice, and opens the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me. “Gimme a break!”  He slid his iPhone back into his pocket and didn’t give it another thought.  He had a job to do, a reputation to protect. 

I’m good.

see you!” Pete forced a smile.  See, it’d been forever since he’d even set foot inside a church, so he had no clue how he should act.  “Uh---Hallelujah!  Jesus saves!” The greeter’s smile looked like it wanted to fade, but stayed frozen there for the sake of being polite.  Then he reached up patted Pete on the shoulder.  “Right on, bro.  Right on.  Welcome!” “Amen.”  Pete’s

They were businessmen who were worse than any of the Bloods or Crips I ever met—and believe me, I met more than a few of them in my life.

How to locate find out on a Garmin GPS Device Complete Guideline How about receiving message or email on phone that your son/daughter has reached school safely when they actually do so? Don’t you will be relaxed and concentrate more on your work? If you your question how can I do this? Then the answer is with the help of Garmin GPS device. And if next question comes like this How to locate find out on a Garmin GPS Device? Then read complete information mention on page. What Is Garmin GPS Device? Garmin GPS is a device that works on the concept of Global Positioning System. With this device you will not only be able to locate your position, but also you will be able to locate position of person or thing easily. With Garmin there are multiple devices available that works fine to solve all your needs. Garmin GTU10, GPS locator works in same way. This devise is attached to stuff whose location need to be tracked. Person can monitor the activity of items in their smart phone or computer. Benefits of Garmin Locator • You can attach Garmin locator device in your kid bag and draw a virtual parameter of area which you want to track. Once your child reach within the area or out of that area, you will get notification on your phone via mess or email. • Similarly, the position of your pet, car, lovable things can also be tracked • Have you seen in movies how the heroes track location of villain by sending a framed victim with GPS to their location? I am pretty sure devices of Garmin are used there. • With the help of this device accidental bus, cars or any person’s location can be identified too. Check Out Details with Garmin Team So, if you are interested to know more about Garmin devices and How to locate find out on a Garmin GPS Device then give a call to Garmin tech support team. They will answer to all your concerns with perfection. Among all GPS devices Garmin GPS are best. One can trust on accuracy of data present. There are time comes when devices face some hiccups but not often. Also, for that Garmin customer care is there to help users. They can be reached via all communication method i.e. through call, email and online chat. The details for same are mention on web page.

You trying to renegotiate terms, boys?”  Big Pete stood slowly.  His shadow covered both of them as he straightened out. 

He didn’t like whining women, but he really, really hated whining men. 

save her!" Doctor Yang nodded and returned to the team.  Seconds later an alarm from the EKG blared again.  Bethie's

In retrospect, the fact that Toy Story was the beginning of Steve’s professional resurrection seems preposterously appropriate. Its plot established the Pixar formula: a likable character is the cause of his own downfall, often as a result of hubris; but he (or she, once Pixar finally made Brave) overcomes weakness through kindness, bravery, quick wits, invention, or some combination thereof, and thereby earns a redemption that makes him—or her—an even better and more complete toy (or bug, car, fish, princess, monster, robot, mouse, or superhero!). The hero’s downfall, incidentally, often involves some kind of exile, as in Toy Story, where Woody “accidentally” sends Buzz careening into Sid’s backyard, and then must join him to engineer a hair-raising escape from that evil child. The parallels to Steve’s own exile from Apple are obvious.

For a man burning to venture into the unknown, this spell of enforced idleness was torment.

We just came down here to talk. We fell asleep. Accidentally. That’s it.” “Kissed a couple of times,” Percy said. Annabeth glared at him. “Not helping!

After turning off my reading lamp, I crawl into bed next to him, suddenly wide awake with awareness. I have a queen-size bed, and I’m pretty small, but Billy is massive. Scooting to the edge so I don’t accidentally bother him, I roll to my side and face away from him. Billy Babcock is in my bed. Sleeping. Sprawled out next to me in his underwear, looking like some kind of beautiful action hero. “Rox?” His low voice sends chills all over my body. “Hm?” “Wanna snuggle?” My eyebrows lift with surprise before I grin. How I’m smiling after the day I’ve had is a surprise. I don’t consider how it’s probably not a good idea or that we should keep our distance until we figure out what the hell we’re doing. Because the idea of being wrapped in his arms sounds amazing. “I’d like that.” That gets me a grunt before an enormous arm reaches around me and yanks me to his hard chest. And then he buries his head in my neck and groans. “You smell good.” I chuckle. “Thanks. You do too.” Like leather and spice and something masculine.

ELECTRYON: Alcmene, meet your new husband, Amphitryon! ALCMENE: Um, okay. A heads-up would’ve been nice. ELECTRYON: Don’t be so glum. He’s going to be the high king soon! He paid a good price for you! Also he loves you. You love her, right? AMPHITRYON: Uh-huh. ALCMENE: You just met me. AMPHITRYON: Uh-huh. ALCMENE: Can you say anything other than “Uh-huh”? AMPHITRYON: Uh-huh. ALCMENE: Dad, this guy is a moron. AMPHITRYON: But I love you! I love you THIS MUCH! (Spreads his hands. Accidentally whacks Electryon in the face and kills him.) AMPHITRYON: Oops. ALCMENE: You’re a moron.

He’d spent way too much time lately being angry, hurt, and resentful. Maybe he had a right to be, but that wasn’t the point. Those kinds of emotions were too toxic to hang onto for long.

One time in my early twenties, I thought I was all that and a bag of chips. I sauntered into the bedroom, completely naked, ready to impress my girlfriend, and she took one look at me and started laughing hysterically. I had no idea what she was laughing at. She couldn’t even breathe, she was laughing so hard. I lost my erection and went back into the bathroom to put my pants back on, humiliated. It wasn’t until I was removing the condom that I’d put on in preparation of our night that I noticed it was glowing. I’d accidentally grabbed one of the novelty condoms I’d picked up at a bar earlier that month. I’d walked into the bedroom ready to impress her, with a glow stick attached to my body.

He could sometimes figure out how a machine worked by putting his hand on it. He’d learned to fly a helicopter that way. He’d fixed Festus the dragon that way (before Festus crashed and burned). Once he’d even reprogrammed the electronic billboards in Times Square to read: ALL DA LADIES LUV LEO…accidentally, of course.

The Inner Circle

Accidentally whacks Electryon in the face and kills him.) AMPHITRYON: Oops. ALCMENE: You’re a moron. When the news got out, the other royal contender, Sthenelus, saw an opportunity to seize the high kingship. He publicly accused Amphitryon of murder. He ran

Frank’s Vancouver Winter Olympics shirt was inside out. Percy wore pajama pants and a bronze breastplate, which was an interesting fashion statement. Hazel’s hair was all blown to one side, as though she’d walked through a cyclone; and Leo had accidentally set himself on fire. His T-shirt was in charred tatters. His arms were smoking.

IN our tales concerning the beginning of things three great goddesses play the part of Mother of the World: the sea-goddess Tethys, the goddess Night, and Mother Earth. They constitute a Trinity; but this may well be a chance result of the fact that only three tales of such a Mother have come down to us. It may also be a result of chance that in the tale concerning the origin of the Trojan War, the most important event in the age of our heroes, three goddesses appear in the story of the Judgment of Paris. All through our mythology one comes across three goddesses. What is more, they do not merely form accidental groups of three—usually a group of three sisters—but actually are real trinities, sometimes almost forming a single Threefold Goddess. Tales are also told of larger groups, of fifty goddesses or fifty daughters of the same father or couple. Let me at once state the association suggested by these numbers. Our lunar month was divided into three parts, and our moon had three aspects: as the waxing, the full and the waning sign of a divine presence in the sky.

Is life essentially accidental and meaningless, or is it as profound and mysterious as Shakespeare’s great tragic hero believed it to be?

impending doom when the terrorists had released the video of Jack. It was as though her body knew that

writers, we

He scanned the temple’s interior, thinking: If I were designing a secret passage, where would I put it? He could sometimes figure out how a machine worked by putting his hand on it. He’d learned to fly a helicopter that way. He’d fixed Festus the dragon that way (before Festus crashed and burned). Once he’d even reprogrammed the electronic billboards in Times Square to read: ALL DA LADIES LUV LEO…accidentally, of course.

If bedhead and sex hair had a love child, it'd look just like the chestnut nest on my head.

why. I have found it difficult at times to forgive myself for what happened.  But a significant part of the answer involves forgiveness, something I never truly understood

reputation,