Beaumont Quotes

Hey, Jojo?” he yells. “Yeah.” I yell back. “I’m going to marry you someday.

You listen to me, Beaumont Tyler Grady. You are a wise-cracking, stubborn, annoying pain in the ass who lives to cause trouble. You’re also a brave, courageous, and valiant Marine who puts his life on the line for what he believes and for those he loves. There is no way you have ever been or ever will be a coward. It simply isn’t in you.

Beaumont. Tyler. Grady." "Wait, whoa, full names? What the hell, Garrett?

I’m standing in front of you, Josie. You just have to turn around.

What are you two up to today?" "Oh, I just figured I'd show Ty some more of Texas. Head down to San Antonio and visit the Bureau office there," Zane said. He shot a sideways look at Ty. "Maybe spend the night in Beaumont." Ty smacked his forehead and turned his head away. "Not much in Beaumont to see," Harrison said with a frown. Zane grinned. "Even so, we're going to try to get it in." Ty had his hand over his mouth, his head down. He was either going to throw up or he was laughing. Harrison felt he'd missed a joke, but he thought maybe he didn't want to know.

Her tear-streaked face is beautiful. I want to wipe away her tears. I want to take the last ten years and erase them. I want to start over.

I began to realize how hard it was to separate all the voices to hear the single, strong one that came just from me." —Mibs Beaumont

There is many a monster who wears the form of a man; it is better of the two to have the heart of a man and the form of a monster.

When you love someone, you just know.

Yes, yes," said the Beast, "my heart is good, but still I am a monster." Among mankind," says Beauty, "there are many that deserve that name more than you, and I prefer you, just as you are, to those, who, under a human form, hide a treacherous, corrupt, and ungrateful heart.

In most ways, Mibs, we Beaumonts are just like other people...We get born, and sometime later we die. And in between, we're happy and sad, we feel love and we feel fear, we eat and we sleep and we hurt like everyone else. —Momma

There’s nothing worse than a woman who tries too hard.

Never will I or have I told fans that I love them, even with something as innocent as this. I’ve only loved one person in my life and those words are saved for my girl and now my son.

Josie Preston, I have loved you since I was sixteen. I know I've screwed up a whole lot, but I promise to make it up to you every day. Would you do me the immense honor of wearing my ring, taking my name and becoming not only my partner in life, but most importantly, my wife?

I only have eyes for one woman, period … When I saw you, I knew I had made a mistake. I should have never left or at least come back for you. My life is better with you in it, Josie. I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize that.

I promise you, I’m done running. I’m still selfish, but only where you and Noah are concerned. I have years of spoiling to make up for and I plan to spend every day of my life making sure you both know how much I love you.

I want every part of you in my life, Jojo, when you’re ready.

Are you really speechless or has the vodka finally impaired your ability to function like a normal human?

Beaumont wanted Esmond very badly. Esmond wanted Beaumont’s wife. And she didn’t want anybody.

Everything in me is saying give up; that I don’t need her, but I do. I need her like I need to breathe.

The last thing Betty says to me that day is something I will never forget. “Follow only your dreams, Liam.

I've missed so much. Like the day you opened your flower shop or how you came up with the name Whimsicality. I missed the day you brought Noah into this world and saw him for the first time. I missed your late-night cravings and his midnight feedings. I'll never forgive myself for not being there, Josie.

He stopped and leaned against a pole and looked up at the deaf and swollen sky. It was a movement of dark shapes, a hurrying, a running. He closed his eyes. ("Hunger")

Pride, anger, gluttony, and idleness are sometimes conquered, but the conversion of a malicious and envious mind is a kind of miracle.

I opened my eyes to the sound of my phone ringing. The bedside clock read 10:05 PM. Rudy’s name displayed on my phone. “Rudy? Where are you?” “Boss, I’m okay, really. It’s just that my car broke down. I’m near a city called…hold on a sec, a city called Beaumont, Texas.” “But you’re alright? Where’s your car right now? What’s wrong with it?

I don’t think she likes my tattoos, and I’m very different from her husband.” Quinn rolls his eyes. He’s far too smart for his age. “I think your tattoos tell a story, maybe she should learn to read.

I thought for sure we'd spend forever together. I thought our love was one of a kind. I would almost be okay if he had met someone else and fallen in love, but he didn't. He just left. He said he was suffocating.

She was an ocean, and he was just a sinking man lost in her waves.

Time is precious, no matter how much of it you've been given.

Since you are so kind as to think of me, be so kind as to bring me a rose, for as none grow hereabouts, they are a kind of rarity.

Alas! I thought I had only a friendship for you, but the grief I now feel convinces me, that I cannot live without you.

I've long maintained that women are born knowing things it takes men a whole lifetime to figure out. This was simply one more case in point.

The fool that willingly provokes a woman, has made himself another evil angel and a new hell to which all other torments are but mere pastime...

At least, that’s what I thought until she picked up a buttered roll and flung it at a nearby woman’s hat.

A cold wind raced across the surrounding fields of wild grass, turning the land into a heaving dark-green ocean. It sighed up through the branches of cherry trees and rattled the thick leaves. Sometimes a cherry would break loose, tumble in the gale, fall and split, filling the night with its fragrance. The air was iron and loam and growth. He walked and tried to pull these things into his lungs, the silence and coolness of them. But someone was screaming, deep inside him. Someone was talking. ("Hunger")

That was horrible.” “That was a fairy tale,” said the wraith. “Fairy tales are horrible.

When did you turn into a smart arse?” Harrison laughs. “When I started plugging into Katelyn.

A fit encomium for marital bliss," Beaumont said, putting down his knife and fork. "Dancing to a tune one neither likes nor understands, with a partner who thinks you a cadaver.

He said, 'Good dog, Beaumont the valiant, sleep now, old friend Beaumont, good old dog.' Then Robin's falchion let Beaumont out of this world, to run free with Orion and roll among the stars.

Ty tapped Nick's knee. "Do you really want him left behind knowing you did this? It can wait until we get back." "Just stop talking, Beaumont," Nick grunted. "You're like the Bermuda Triangle of morals." Zane snorted and covered it with a cough.

I never thought I’d see the boy who stole my heart and failed to give it back. I’m not sure I want it back.

I shouldn’t gloat, but every man needs a little beauty in his life, and Elle is my princess.

I must," said the Beast, "for, alas! I know too well my own misfortune, but then I love you with the tenderest affection. However, I ought to think myself happy, that you will stay here; promise me never to leave me.

She was stunning, but fortunately, as a hardened and experienced detective, I was impervious to this. More or less.

Jenna, you’re my daughter and if I didn’t raise my hand to you, then no man will.

Taken out of context and given a forty-degree twist, you can use the Bible to justify almost anything.

I know you’ve lost your husband. I know every day is a battle for you because you miss him. I’m not trying to take his place with you or the twins. I just want to fit into your life.

Interest makes some people blind and others quick-sighted.

Family secrets are like vampires. They never really die, and can always come back to bite you.

I want to know her, inside and out. I want to learn how to fall in love with her as my partner.

All you had to do was trust me.

No!” She shuddered. “Wrong button. Why do we even have that button? There. The red one.

He was the wind to her sail, the anchor to her ship, the shore to her sea; she would follow him to any horizon, and he would do the same for her, regardless of what uncharted waters might lie ahead.

Jeremy Beaumont-Jones had been lucky enough to be born rich. He wasn’t in the mad oligarch class but once you’re past a certain point, the sheer weight of your money sucks in wealth like a financial singularity. If you’re sensible enough not to blow it on race horses, cocaine or musical theatre, then it becomes a perpetual-motion money making machine.

Jimmy looks down at the ring in his hand. He sighs before looking at me. “I understand what you’re saying, and if I were you, I’d feel the same way. I know I’m not the best man out there, but I look at you and you make me want to be better. I know what people think of me. I know you and everyone else thinks I’m a man-whore or I’m too young to be tied down. Maybe this will be temporary or maybe it will be for life, I don’t know, but it feels right. I don’t do commitments, but when I look at you, I see a future. I see my future.

Your cat doesn’t like you? How come?” I shrug. “I don’t know. He’s very mean though and I think about telling him to pack his kitty bags and move out.

Your life takes on a different meaning when you break your own heart.

Thank you,” she whispers. It’s in that moment that I know I’ll do whatever I can to make this family smile, because it’s so going to be worth it.

If one could only discover the unwritten bases of black magic and apply formulae to them, we would find that they were merely another form of science... perhaps less advance, perhaps more.

I intended that when the curtain went up the scene should confront the public like the exaggerating mirror in the stories of Madame Leprince de Beaumont, in which the depraved saw themselves with dragons' bodies, or bulls' horns, or whatever corresponded to their particular vice. It is not surprising that the public should have been aghast at the sight of its other self, which it had never before been shown completely. This ignoble other-self, as Monsieur Catulle Mendes has excellently said, is composed "of eternal human imbecility, eternal lust, eternal gluttony, the vileness of instinct magnified into tyranny; of the sense of decency, the virtues, the patriotism & the ideals peculiar to those who have just eaten their fill." Really, these are hardly the constituents for an amusing play, & the masks demonstrate that the comedy must at the most be the macabre comedy of an English clown, or of a Dance of Death.

That’s what friends are for,” I said. “It doesn’t matter if they’re old friends or new friends. They’re the kind of people who will listen as long as you need them to because, sometimes, telling the story and having someone listen is the only way to figure out how to move on.

Chevalier d’Éon de Beaumont, had previously served France as both a male soldier in the Seven Years’ War and a female secret agent who infiltrated the Russian monarchy, successfully befriending and convincing a Russian czarina not to become an ally of France’s enemy Great Britain. No one was entirely sure of his/her gender, and he/she kept them guessing.

Her way through life had been winding until now, like an unruly stream stumbling its way over hurdles and bumps, oftentimes trickling into those dark, unexpected cracks. But she was like water. Persistent, versatile, never willing to wait.

Her make-up is running down her face, black and heavy, leaving a path of pain ruining her beauty.

Afterwards, thought she to herself, "Beast surely has a mind to fatten me before he eats me,

Katherine -I wondered if this was how Dorothy felt when she woke up in Oz with all the little people squawking ding dong, the witch is dead.

I’ve always loved that about reading. Being able to experience a different time or place, but mostly getting a chance to experience being a different person altogether.

sometimes the most simple things in the world can be the most beautiful.

The University of Alabama is not on his radar, but they’re on mine.

Honest men make unconvincing liars,' I lied convincingly.

There’s nothing like a compliment to turn any right-thinking American male into your basic monosyllabic kind of guy.

Getting eaten by evil pumpkins was very low on my list of preferred ways to die.

We were destined to be together, to walk through lie as one.

Following the anecdote, Beaumont explains the deadly meaning of race prejudice in the United States. Echoing Crèvecoeur and Jefferson, he concludes that white supremacy in America corrupts white people by schooling them in “domination and tyranny,” while blasting Negro fate and engendering in them violent hatreds and resentments bound to provoke bloody crisis.40

Katelyn steps closer, her hand moving up my chest. I sigh when she touches my face. She holds me to her, like I belong. I’ve been waiting for this moment since I met her and now that I finally have her, I don’t think I’ll be able to let her go.

Pearl was hurring around my apartment, sniffing everything, including Rich Beaumont and Patty Giacomin, which neither of them like much. "Can you get Pearl to settle down?" Paul asked. "I could speak to her, but she'd continue to do what she wants, and I'd look ineffectual. My approach is to endorse everything she does." Susan said, "Come here, Pearl." And Pearl went over to her, and Susan gave her a kiss on the mouth, and Pearl wagged her tail; and lapped Susan's face, and turned and went back and sniffed at Patty.

I submit a body of facts which cannot be invalidated. My opinions may be doubted, denied, or approved, according as they conflict or agree with the opinions of each individual who may read them; but their worth will be best determined by the foundation on which they rest—the incontrovertible facts.

It wasn't just that Mr. Beaumont and his creepy staring was freaking me out. And it wasn't that my dad's warning was ringing in my ears. My mediator instincts were telling me to get out, now. And when my instincts tell me to do something, I usually obey. I have often found it beneficial to my health.

It’s been just the two of us for so many years. People don’t talk much about marriages without children, about the intensity of them. No one else in the house to act as a buffer, to force you to come together after an argument.

Bye, dad,” Noah says before running off to the truck. The look on Liam’s face must match mine. “Don’t worry, Jojo,” he whispers to me. He places a kiss on my cheek before walking way. “Take care of my family, Nick,” Liam says as he slips his helmet on muffling out Nick’s tirade. I watch Liam’s bike as it flies down the road. When my eyes meet Nick’s, he’s glaring at me. He shakes his head, punching his truck in the process. I think I just lost my fiancé.

The price of living a long life, I think, is the sheer weight of the losses you have to suffer. You carry each loved one you lose, and they stack up, and it becomes unbearable. I tick them off in my mind. Brother, father, mother, husband, and my friend, my love.

If I could just get the one I’m infatuated with to just look in my direction. I’m firmly stuck in the friend category, though, and I don’t know how to get out of it. I’m afraid to tell her how I feel because the look on her face will break me. I know she doesn’t want me the way I want her, and I’d rather be her friend than not have her in my life at all.

Il y a bien des hommes qui sont plus monstres que vous, dit la Belle.

Purple Rain comes on. It’s the song we first danced to at homecoming.

I like myself because I'm ME!

She’s like the tide, she is. Sometimes she will rage and sometimes she will recede, but she will always return, stronger and more unwavering than ever.

My mouth drops when she slides his hoodie off and pushes her fingers into his dark locks that are cut short on the sides, but left longer on top. Not too long, just enough to grab a hold of. I’ve been waiting months and she’s known him for thirty-seconds and is already touching him. He says something to her causing her to nod as he takes her hand and leads them off the dance floor. “Where’s he going?” I ask again.

He’s a part of your life and he’s part of the girls’ life. I’ll never ask you not to talk about him when I’m not around. I’ll never ask you to stop loving him. If he was here, I’d hate him.” I shake my head because that’s not true. “No, I probably wouldn’t know you if he was here, and for that I’m both thankful and remorseful because his girls are the best, most beautiful girls that I’ve ever encountered, and I want to do right by not only them, but him too.

Love?” I question, wanting to know his answer. “Yeah, love. I can see myself falling in love with you and as much as I’m trying not to, it’s not working.” He says quietly. He sits down next to me and leans back into the couch. “I don’t know what else to say. I shouldn’t have to sell myself to you. You either like me or you don’t. Thing is, you can’t lie. I know you feel something, you just have to let yourself believe I’m good enough to be a part of your life.

I’m going to chase you, woo you, romance you, and beat your ass at Madden because you know I can. And when I’m done, I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same way. I’m in love with you, Peyton. It’s crazy, ridiculous and unconventional, and it may have taken an accident for me to see the light, but I’m not fighting it.

Beaumont's intention was to promote the virtue and nutritional value of fruit-bearing trees. Fifteen different genera of fruit and a number of their different species are described in the work: almonds, apricots, a barberry, cherries, quinces, figs, strawberries, gooseberries, apples, a mulberry, pears, peaches, plums, grapes, and raspberries. Each colored plate illustrates the plant's seed, foliage, blossom, fruit, and sometimes cross sections of the species.

I first learned about Aquino from a concerned mother in Santa Rosa who called the television station with one of the most horrific stories I’ve ever heard. You’ll meet her. Her name is Denise Beaumont and she arranged most everything for this event. Anyway, I began investigating and found out how widespread pedophilia and satanism actually are! It’s not limited to poor hill folk or a lone stranger on a playground like I thought; the richest, most influential people are involved. We even have a judge here in Marin County that is rumored to be a satanist! The more I looked, the more I learned that what I really didn’t want to believe was real.” Carol’s blue eyes widened as she leaned forward to whisper, “I found out its happening right here in my own back yard! My father, who is Air Force Intelligence, lives around the corner. When I told him what I discovered, he advised me to forget about it!

Harrison returns his arm to its previous position, resting comfortably on the back of the booth. I feel myself shifting. My body wants to sit in the nook he’s created, and for the life of me I don’t understand why. I’m not attracted to him. We are opposites and the tattoos… I can’t. I try to slide away from him without drawing too much attention to myself, but he notices. He shakes his head and removes his arm. My heart pounds and tension fills my body. I shouldn’t care.

The city had grown, implacably, spreading its concrete and alloy fingers wider every day over the dark and feral country. Nothing could stop it. Mountains were stamped flat. Rivers were dammed off or drained or put elsewhere. The marshes were filled. The animals shot from the trees and then the trees cut down. And the big gray machines moved forward, gobbling up the jungle with their iron teeth, chewing it clean of its life and all its living things. Until it was no more. Leveled, smoothed as a highway is smoothed, its centuries choked beneath millions and millions of tons of hardened stone. The birth of a city... It had become the death of a world.

The hand of Heaven is on me, be it far from me to struggle, if my secret sins have pull'd this curse upon me, lend me tears now to wash me white, that I may feel a child-like innocence within my breast; which once perform'd, O give me leave to stand as fix'd as constancy her self, my eyes set here unmov'd, regardless of the world though thousand miseries incompass me.

Came Honker's trip to Slice City along about then: our sax-man got a neck all full of the sharpest kind of steel. So we were out one horn. And you could tell: we played a little bit too rough, and the head-arrangements Collins and His Crew grew up to, they needed Honker's grease in the worst way. But we'd been together for five years or more, and a new man just didn't play somehow. We were this one solid thing, like a unit, and somebody had cut off a piece of us and we couldn't grow the piece back so we just tried to get along anyway, bleeding every night, bleeding from that wound. ("Black Country")

The average Christian is not supposed to know that Jesus’ home town of Nazareth did not actually exist, or that key places mentioned in the Bible did not physically exist in the so-called “Holy Land.” He is not meant to know that scholars have had greater success matching Biblical events and places with events and places in Britain rather than in Palestine. It is a point of contention whether the settlement of Nazareth existed at all during Jesus' lifetime. It does not appear on contemporary maps, neither in any books, documents, chronicles or military records of the period, whether of Roman or Jewish compilation. The Jewish Encyclopedia identifies that Nazareth is not mentioned in the Old Testament, neither in the works of Josephus, nor in the Hebrew Talmud – Laurence Gardner (The Grail Enigma) As far back as 1640, the German traveller Korte, after a complete topographical examination of the present Jerusalem, decided that it failed to coincide in any way with the city described by Josephus and the Scriptures. Claims that the tombs of patriarchs Ab’Ram, Isaac, and Jacob are buried under a mosque in Hebron possess no shred of evidence. The rock-cut sepulchres in the valleys of Jehoshaphat and Hinnom are of Roman period with late Greek inscriptions, and there exists nothing in groups of ruins at Petra, Sebaste, Baalbec, Palmyra or Damascus, or among the stone cities of the Haran, that are pre-Roman. Nothing in Jerusalem itself can be related to the Jews – Comyns Beaumont (Britain: Key to World’s History) The Jerusalem of modern times is not the city of the Scriptures. Mt. Calvary, now nearly in the centre of the city, was without walls at the time of the Crucifixion, and the greater part of Mt. Zion, which is not without, was within the ancient city. The holy places are for the most part the fanciful dreams of monkish enthusiasts to increase the veneration of the pilgrims – Rev. J. P. Lawson (quoted in Beaumont’s Britain: Key to World’s History)

Then it was horn time. Time for the big solo. Sonny lifted the trumpet - One! Two! - He got it into sight - Three! We all stopped dead. I mean we stopped. That wasn't Sonny's horn. This one was dented-in and beat-up and the tip-end was nicked. It didn't shine, not a bit. Lux leaned over-you could have fit a coffee cup into his mouth. "Jesus God," he said. "Am I seeing right?" I looked close and said: "Man, I hope not." But why kid? We'd seen that trumpet a million times. It was Spoof's. Rose-Ann was trembling. Just like me, she remembered how we'd buried the horn with Spoof. And she remembered how quiet it had been in Sonny's room last night... I started to think real hophead thoughts, like - where did Sonny get hold of a shovel that late? and how could he expect a horn to play that's been under the ground for two years? and - That blast got into our ears like long knives. Spoof's own trademark! Sonny looked caught, like he didn't know what to do at first, like he was hypnotized, scared, almighty scared. But as the sound came out, rolling out, sharp and clean and clear - new-trumpet sound - his expression changed. His eyes changed: they danced a little and opened wide. Then he closed them, and blew that horn. Lord God of the Fishes, how he blew it! How he loved it and caressed it and pushed it up, higher and higher and higher. High C? Bottom of the barrel. He took off, and he walked all over the rules and stamped them flat. The melody got lost, first off. Everything got lost, then, while that horn flew. It wasn't only jazz; it was the heart of jazz, and the insides, pulled out with the roots and held up for everybody to see; it was blues that told the story of all the lonely cats and all the ugly whores who ever lived, blues that spoke up for the loser lamping sunshine out of iron-gray bars and every hop head hooked and gone, for the bindlestiffs and the city slicers, for the country boys in Georgia shacks and the High Yellow hipsters in Chicago slums and the bootblacks on the corners and the fruits in New Orleans, a blues that spoke for all the lonely, sad and anxious downers who could never speak themselves... And then, when it had said all this, it stopped and there was a quiet so quiet that Sonny could have shouted: 'It's okay, Spoof. It's all right now. You get it said, all of it - I'll help you. God, Spoof, you showed me how, you planned it - I'll do my best!' And he laid back his head and fastened the horn and pulled in air and blew some more. Not sad, now, not blues - but not anything else you could call by a name. Except... jazz. It was Jazz. Hate blew out of that horn, then. Hate and fury and mad and fight, like screams and snarls, like little razors shooting at you, millions of them, cutting, cutting deep... And Sonny only stopping to wipe his lip and whisper in the silent room full of people: 'You're saying it, Spoof! You are!' God Almighty Himself must have heard that trumpet, then; slapping and hitting and hurting with notes that don't exist and never existed. Man! Life took a real beating! Life got groined and sliced and belly-punched and the horn, it didn't stop until everything had all spilled out, every bit of the hate and mad that's built up in a man's heart. ("Black Country")

I have decided to write a diary of La Belle et la Bête as the work on the film progresses. After a year of preparations and difficulties, the moment has now come to grapple with a dream. Apart from the numerous obstacles which exist in getting a dream onto celluloid, the problem is to make a film within the limits imposed by a period of austerity. But perhaps these limitations may stimulate imagination, which is often lethargic when all means are placed at its disposal. Everybody knows the story by madame Leprince de Beaumont, a story often attributed to Perrault, because it is found next to "Peau d'Ane" between those bewitching covers of the Bibliothèque Rose. The postulate of the story requires faith, the faith of childhood. I mean that one must believe implicitly at the very beginning and not question the possibility that the mere picking of a rose might lead a family into adventure, or that a man can be changed into a beast, and vice versa. Such enigmas offend grown-ups who are readily prejudiced, proud of their doubt, armed with derision. But I have the impudence to believe that the cinema which depicts the impossible is apt to carry conviction, in a way, and may be able to put a "singular" occurrence into the plural. It is up to us (that is, to me and my unit―in fact, one entity) to avoid those impossibilities which are even more of a jolt in the midst of the improbable than in the midst of reality. For fantasy has its own laws which are like those of perspective. You may not bring what is distant into the foreground, or render fuzzily what is near. The vanishing lines are impeccable and the orchestration so delicate that the slightest false note jars. I am not speaking of what I have achieved, but of what I shall attempt within the means at my disposal. My method is simply: not to aim at poetry. That must come of its own accord. The mere whispered mention of its name frightens it away. I shall try to build a table. It will be up to you then to eat at it, to examine it or to chop it up for firewood.

I took my solo and beat hell out of the skins. Then Spoof swiped at his mouth and let go with a blast and moved it up into that squeal and stopped and started playing. It was all headwork. All new to us. New to anybody. I saw Sonny get a look on his face, and we sat still and listened while Spoof made love to that horn. Now like a scream, now like a laugh - now we're swinging in the trees, now the white men are coming, now we're in the boat and chains are hanging from our ankles and we're rowing, rowing - Spoof, what is it? - now we're sawing wood and picking cotton and serving up those cool cool drinks to the Colonel in his chair - Well, blow, man! - now we're free, and we're struttin' down Lenox Avenue and State & Madison and Pirate's Alley, laughing, crying - Who said free? - and we want to go back and we don't want to go back - Play it, Spoof! God, God, tell us all about it! Talk to us! - and we're sitting in a cellar with a comb wrapped up in paper, with a skin-barrel and a tinklebox - Don't stop, Spoof! Oh Lord, please don't stop! - and we're making something, something, what is it? Is it jazz? Why, yes, Lord, it's jazz. Thank you, sir, and thank you, sir, we finally got it, something that is ours, something great that belongs to us and to us alone, that we made, and that's why it's important and that's what it's all about and - Spoof! Spoof, you can;t stop now -- But it was over, middle of the trip. And there was Spoof standing there facing us and tears streaming out of those eyes and down over that coaldust face, and his body shaking and shaking. It's the first we ever saw that. It's the first we ever heard him cough, too - like a shotgun going off every two seconds, big raking sounds that tore up from the bottom of his belly and spilled out wet and loud. ("Black Country")