Command Line Strip Quotes

There is a tree. At the downhill edge of a long, narrow field in the western foothills of the La Sal Mountains -- southeastern Utah. A particular tree. A juniper. Large for its species -- maybe twenty feet tall and two feet in diameter. For perhaps three hundred years this tree has stood its ground. Flourishing in good seasons, and holding on in bad times. "Beautiful" is not a word that comes to mind when one first sees it. No naturalist would photograph it as exemplary of its kind. Twisted by wind, split and charred by lightning, scarred by brushfires, chewed on by insects, and pecked by birds. Human beings have stripped long strings of bark from its trunk, stapled barbed wire to it in using it as a corner post for a fence line, and nailed signs on it on three sides: NO HUNTING; NO TRESPASSING; PLEASE CLOSE THE GATE. In commandeering this tree as a corner stake for claims of rights and property, miners and ranchers have hacked signs and symbols in its bark, and left Day-Glo orange survey tape tied to its branches. Now it serves as one side of a gate between an alfalfa field and open range. No matter what, in drought, flood heat and cold, it has continued. There is rot and death in it near the ground. But at the greening tips of its upper branches and in its berrylike seed cones, there is yet the outreach of life. I respect this old juniper tree. For its age, yes. And for its steadfastness in taking whatever is thrown at it. That it has been useful in a practical way beyond itself counts for much, as well. Most of all, I admire its capacity for self-healing beyond all accidents and assaults. There is a will in it -- toward continuing to be, come what may.

IT is not impossible that among the English readers of this book there may be one who in 1915 and 1916 was in one of those trenches that were woven like a web among the ruins of Monchy-au-Bois. In that case he had opposite him at that time the 73rd Hanoverian Fusiliers, who wear as their distinctive badge a brassard with ' Gibraltar ' inscribed on it in gold, in memory of the defence of that fortress under General Elliot; for this, besides Waterloo, has its place in the regiment's history. At the time I refer to I was a nineteen-year-old lieutenant in command of a platoon, and my part of the line was easily recognizable from the English side by a row of tall shell-stripped trees that rose from the ruins of Monchy. My left flank was bounded by the sunken road leading to Berles-au-Bois, which was in the hands of the English ; my right was marked by a sap running out from our lines, one that helped us many a time to make our presence felt by means of bombs and rifle-grenades. I daresay this reader remembers, too, the white tom-cat, lamed in one foot by a stray bullet, who had his headquarters in No-man's-land. He used often to pay me a visit at night in my dugout. This creature, the sole living being that was on visiting terms with both sides, always made on me an impression of extreme mystery. This charm of mystery which lay over all that belonged to the other side, to that danger zone full of unseen figures, is one of the strongest impressions that the war has left with me. At that time, before the battle of the Somme, which opened a new chapter in the history of the war, the struggle had not taken on that grim and mathematical aspect which cast over its landscapes a deeper and deeper gloom. There was more rest for the soldier than in the later years when he was thrown into one murderous battle after another ; and so it is that many of those days come back to my memory now with a light on them that is almost peaceful.

Tonight, Tam will allow... great and terrible magic to enter his body,' Lucien said, staring at the distant fires. 'The magic will seize control of his mind, his body, his soul, and turn him into the Hunter. It will fill him with his sole purpose; to find the Maiden. From their coupling, magic will be released and spread to the earth, where it will regenerate life for the year to come.' My face became hot, and I fought the urge to fidget. 'Tonight, Tam won't be the faerie you know,' Lucien said. 'He won't even know his name. The magic will consume everything in him but that one basic command- and need.' 'Who... who's the Maiden?' I got out. Lucien snorted. 'No one knows until it's time. After Tam hunts down the white stag and kills it for the sacrificial offering, he'll make his way to that sacred cave, where he'll find the path lined with faerie females waiting to be chosen as his mate for tonight.' 'What?' Lucien laughed. 'Yes- all those female faeries around you were females for Tamlin to pick. It's an honour to be chosen, but it's his instincts that select her.' 'But you were there- and other male faeries.' My face burned so hot that I began sweating. That was why those three horrible faeries had been there- and they'd thought that just by my presence, I was happy to comply with their plans. 'Ah,' Lucien chuckled. 'Well, Tam's not the only one who gets to perform the rite tonight. Once he makes his choice, we're free to mingle. Though it's not the Great Rite, our own dalliances tonight will help the land, too.' He shrugged off that invisible hand a second time, and his eyes fell upon the hills. 'You're lucky I found you when I did, though,' he said. 'Because he would have smelled you, and claimed you, but it wouldn't have been Tamlin who brought you into that cave.' His eyes met mine, and a chill went over me. 'And I don't think you would have liked it. Tonight is not for lovemaking.' I swallowed my nausea. 'I should go,' Lucien said, gazing at the hills. 'I need to return before he arrives at the cave- at least to try to control him when he smells you and can't find you in the crowd.' It made me sick- the thought of Tamlin forcing me, that magic could strip away any sense of self, of right or wrong. But hearing that... that some feral part of him wanted me... My breath was painful. 'Stay in your room tonight, Feyre,' Lucien said. , walking to the garden doors. 'No matter who comes knocking, keep the door locked. Don't come out until morning.

Strip out Comments and Blank Lines $ grep -E -v "^#|^$" file

I felt that source of power for a minute when all eight of us seniors stood in front of the line of boys, knowing they were literally going to do whatever we told them, but the second we gave them the command for them to strip down, I felt the first twinge of indigestion.