Christchurch Quotes

People can't anticipate how much they'll miss the natural world until they are deprived of it. I have read about submarine crewmen who haunt the sonar room, listening to whale songs and colonies of snapping shrimp. Submarine captains dispense 'periscope liberty'- a chance to gaze at clouds and birds and coastlines and remind themselves that the natural world still exists. I once met a man who told me that after landing in Christchurch, New Zealand, after a winter at the South Pole research station, he and his companions spent a couple days just wandering around staring in awe at flowers and trees. At one point, one of them spotted a woman pushing a stroller. 'A baby!' he shouted, and they all rushed across the street to see. The woman turned the stroller and ran.

I hated it when other people had a point. Especially when they were grinning at me like they were on their way to Oz to find a brain.

I set out the chairs in a circle. In my head, I counted off each person as I placed their seat. Terry, dead daughter; Ilene, missing daughter; Kendra, missing daughter; Joanne, sick daughter; Christine, dead daughter. That last one is me, by the way. There

Each time we bear witness to such senseless acts the world divides into a side which views this type of attack as terrorism and another which dismisses it as a random act by a person whose actions need some sort of justification.

Sam "Snowbow" Archambeau sat on his bunk and finally sharked his thumbnail through the sealed envelope marked, “Do not open until I blast off!” It had been inserted inside an outer envelope that had flown from Amsterdam to Cape Town to Christchurch to McMurdo Station to South Pole Station. As he unfolded the red construction paper inside, Snowbow smiled at the incongruity of a rocket girl using snail mail to communicate her last Earthly message to him. -- from the upcoming novel, MARS COLONY AGATHA: NIKKI RED by Jack Chaucer, 1-1-20

La 18.20, Cotter l-a contactat pe Hall si i-a spus ca Jan Arnold sunase din Christchurch si astepta sa i se faca legatura. - Imediat, a spus Rob.Am gura uscata. Vreau sa inghit niste zapada inainte sa vorbesc cu ea. A revenit putin mai tarziu si a spus incet, cu o voce sparta si foarte distorsionata: - Buna, draga mea. Sper ca esti in pat si ca ti-e cald. Ce faci? - Nu pot sa-ti spun cat ma gandesc la tine! a raspuns Arnold. Pari mult mai bine decat ma asteptam. Ti-e cald dragule? - Avand in vedere altitudinea si imprejurimile, mi-e destul de bine, a spus Hall, facand tot posibilul sa nu o ingrijoreze. - Cum iti sunt picioarele? - Nu mi-am dat jos bocancii ca sa ma uit, dar cred ca am niste degeraturi. - De-abia astept sa te fac bine dupa ce vii acasa, a spus Arnold. Sunt convinsa ca o sa fii salvat. Sa nu te simti singur. Iti trimit toate gandurile mele bune! - Te iubesc. Somn usor, draga mea. Te rog sa nu-ti faci prea multe griji, i-a spus Hall sotiei sale inainte sa inchida. Acestea au fost ultimele cuvinte pe care le-am auzit de la el. (ultima convorbire dintre Rob Hall si sotia sa)

So, in less elevated circles, we might toss a coin as to whether or not to go to a party, decide to go, and there meet the person whom we are to marry and spend our lives with. And if that person came, say, from New Zealand, and wanted to return, then we might find ourselves spending our life in Christchurch. Not that spending one’s lifetime in Christchurch is anything less than very satisfactory—who among us would not be happy living in a city of well-behaved people, within reach of mountains, where the civic virtues ensure courtesy and comfort and where the major problems of the world are an ocean away? But had the coin fallen the other way—as coins occasionally do—then that wholly different prospect might never have opened up and one might spend the rest of one’s days in the place where one started out. Or one might pick up a newspaper abandoned in a train by a person not well schooled in those same civic virtues, open it and chance to see an advertisement for a job that one would not otherwise have seen. And that same job might take one into the path of risk, and that very risk may materialise and end one’s life prematurely. Again the act of picking up the paper has consequences unglimpsed at the time, but profound nonetheless.

No one can or will ever replace the love Andy, you, and I shared, but life goes on and we have to flow with it. I completed my postgraduate fashion design at the Royal College of Art, London in 1977; I then worked for Liberty of London for a few years before venturing into designing my own bridal wear collections for several major London department stores. In 1979, the Hong Kong Polytechnic now a university invited me to teach fashion design at their clothing and textile institute. Andy and I separated in 1970. He left for New Zealand to pursue engineering while I stayed in London to complete my fashion studies. Those early years of our separation were extremely difficult for the both of us. As you are well aware, we were very close at boarding school. After your departure to Vienna, Andy and I were inseparable. He asked me to join him permanently in Christchurch, but I was determined to enroll in a London fashion school. We corresponded for a couple of years before mutually deciding that it was best to severe ties and start afresh.

In Christchurch, though, everything is at eye level and

In Christchurch, though, everything is at eye level and I have the feeling that I am constantly lost.

I believe that Paul Collingwood, the England captain, should have called back the New Zealand all-rounder Grant Elliott after he was run out while lying on the floor following a collision with a bowler at The Oval in 2008. Worse was New Zealand running out Muttiah Muralitharan when he left his crease to congratulate Kumar Sangakkara on a century in Christchurch in 2006. It’s easy to defend those actions by saying no rules were broken but surely the game is bigger than that.

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The Times: “Japanese fishermen caught a dead monster, weighing two tons and 30 feet in length, off the coast of New Zealand in April, it was reported today. Believed to be a survivor of a prehistoric species, the monster was caught at a depth of 1000 feet off the South Island coast, near Christchurch. Palaeontologists from the Natural Science Museum near Tokyo have concluded that the beast belonged to the pleisiosaurus family - huge, small-headed reptiles with a long neck and four fins ... After a member of the crew had photographed and measured it, the trawler's captain ordered the corpse to be thrown back into the sea for fear of contamination to his fish.”17

Of the eight clients and three guides in my group, five of us, including myself, never made it to the top. Of the six who summited, four were later killed in the storm. They included our thirty-five-year-old expedition leader, Rob Hall, a gentle and humorous New Zealander of mythic mountaineering prowess. Before he froze to death in a snow hole near the top of Everest, Rob would radio a heartbreaking farewell to his pregnant wife, Jan Arnold, at their home in Christchurch. Another sad fatality was diminutive Yasuko Namba, forty-seven, whose final human contact was with me, the two of us huddled together through that awful night, lost and freezing in the blizzard on the South Col, just a quarter mile from the warmth and safety of camp. Four other climbers also perished in the storm, making May 10, 1996, the deadliest day on Everest in the seventy-five years since the intrepid British schoolmaster, George Leigh Mallory, first attempted to climb the mountain.

The storm relented on the morning of the eleventh. The winds dropped to about thirty knots. Stuart Hutchison and three Sherpas went in search of Yasuko and me. They found us lying next to each other, largely buried in snow and ice. First to Yasuko. Hutchison reached down and pulled her up by her coat. She had a three-inch-thick layer of ice across her face, a mask that he peeled back. Her skin was porcelain. Her eyes were dilated. But she was still breathing. He moved to me, pulled me up, and cleaned the ice out of my eyes and off my beard so he could look into my face. I, like Yasuko, was barely clinging to life. Hutchison would later say he had never seen a human being so close to death and still breathing. Coming from a cardiologist, I’ll accept that at face value. What do you do? The superstitious Sherpas, uneasy around the dead and dying, were hesitant to approach us. But Hutchison didn’t really need a second opinion here. The answer was, you leave them. Every mountaineer knows that once you go into hypothermic coma in the high mountains, you never, ever wake up. Yasuko and I were going to die anyway. It would only endanger more lives to bring us back. I don’t begrudge that decision for my own sake. But how much strain would be entailed in carrying Yasuko back? She was so tiny. At least she could have died in the tent, surrounded by people, and not alone on that ice. Hutchison and the Sherpas got back to camp and told everyone that we were dead. They called down to Base Camp, which notified Rob’s office in Christchurch, which relayed the news to Dallas. On a warm, sunny Saturday morning the phone rang in our house. Peach answered and was told by Madeleine David, office manager for Hall’s company, Adventure Consultants, that I had been killed descending from the summit ridge. “Is there any hope?” Peach asked. “No,” David replied. “There’s been a positive body identification. I’m sorry.

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But if there was a mood of paranoia amongst the counterculture, the spies appeared to be gripped by their own fantasies of the 'reds under the beds' variety. Keith Locke, son of communists Elsie and Jack Locke, discovers that the SIS had a file on him when he was eleven years old. In it it had been noted such suspicious activities as attending a Christchurch performance of the Moscow Circus.

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The foreign correspondents who flocked to Christchurch were at once struck by the incongruity of a murder of the foulest kind occurring in what the Sydney Sun-Herald called 'New Zealand's quietest, staidest, most Victorian-English city - a city of bicycles, lace and old ivy.

Raphael looked like he might have laughed if he'd been younger and more cheerful. 'Why are you using the Jesuit dictionary?' 'How do you know what I'm using? A d it's the only Quechua dictionary.' 'It's probably shrine,'I said, and then when Clem frowned, not understanding, 'not idol.' Raphael nodded to me and I smiled, because he was taking it so gently. I would have burst out laughing if someone had translated Christchurch as Heathen God Temple in front of me.

All of the parents and children, waiting in Christchurch park for the firework display to start, how disappointed they’ll be. Their sparklers will fizzle out, they’ll be cold.

Even if the past exists as an independent reality outside the minds of those who write about it, we can never know that reality. Historians and writers of historical fiction attempt to fill in the gaps, to say: ‘This is how it might have been.’

Rights holders, seeing how unpopular their ideas were, headed down a darker path; rather than give up on government help for such schemes, they worked to get them through with limited public debate. New Zealand’s revised law, which began with the presumption that the accused were in fact infringers, was pushed through in 2011 under "urgency" rules in the wake of the major Christchurch earthquake. In the United Kingdom, the Digital Economy Act laid the groundwork for a similar scheme and had to be passed during a hurried "wash-up" session with little discussion just before new elections in 2010.

Second Week Of June 2012 Andy’s reply arrive a couple of days after I email him. My ex-lover wrote: Young, Your emails bring joy to my heart. I’m glad you did the correct thing to help Bernard. I would have done the same if I were in your shoes. What happen to him after he went to a foster home? Did he adjust well in the home? You asked me what happened after I left London for Christchurch. As I had mentioned in my previous correspondence, I plunged wholeheartedly into my engineering studies. The days were easier than the nights when I woke to dreams of you and missed the love we shared terribly. There were times I went for long walks when I suffered chronic insomnia. Much like you, out of incorrigible loneliness I went looking for love in the wrong places. One evening I stumbled upon a cruising park near the university campus. After insouciant sex with different men in the dark whom I did not care to know afterwards; a horrendous sense of self-hatred often befell my person and I regretted endangering myself in these situations. The more I resisted the temptation, the more it became a habitual act. After the dark faceless encounters, I became lonelier than before. I was to a point of nervous breakdown when I noticed an attractive Portuguese Filipino student on campus who reminded me of you.

When Oscar announced he was leaving to pursue his medical studies at the University of Vienna, specializing in Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery after his Sekham service, I was sad that our triplet relationship was coming to an end. After his departure, Andy consoled and comforted me, guiding me to regain an emotionally stable footing. My Valet loved me unconditionally and had hoped I would follow him to Christchurch, New Zealand when he left to pursue his engineering studies. I did not.

the eminent science writer who had not heard that his flight down had had to turn back just before the Point of Safe Return, so that after eight hours he had climbed out of the Herc back in Christchurch and looked around and said, “Why all the trees?