Dean Smith Quotes

If you treat every situation as a life and death matter, you'll die a lot of times.

Yeah, I know what your English Professor tried to tell you. But if your English Professor could make a living writing fiction, they would have been doing it.

I believe that a writer is a person who writes. An author is a person who has written.

If you make every game a life-and-death thing, you’re going to have problems. You’ll be dead a lot.

If you do what we ask you to do, the victories will belong to you, and the losses to me.

Play hard. Play smart. Play together.

And I'm pretty sure that everyone in the Pacific Northwest heard Ryan Dean West shout, "YOUSTEPPEDONMYFUCKINGNUTSYOUSONOFABITCH!

A student once walked into the office of Harvard Dean LeBaron Russell Briggs and said he hadn't done his assignment because he hadn't felt well. Looking the student piercingly in the eye, Dean Briggs said, "Mr. Smith, I think in time you may perhaps find that most of the work in the world is done by people who aren't feeling very well

I often resorted: buckets, brooms, garden rakes, Granny Smith apples, cats that when thrown will reliably take out their fury not on the thrower but instead on the person at whom they’re thrown. I didn’t like throwing cats or animals of any kind, as far as that goes, but every once in a while, in a life-and-death situation, there was nothing to be done but grab a cat and throw it, or an angry ferret.

Moralistic Therapeutic Deism, say Smith and Denton, seems to be “colonizing many historical religious traditions and, almost without anyone noticing, converting believers in the old faiths to its alternative religious vision of divinely underwritten personal happiness and interpersonal niceness.”23

During the decades that Joe Smith lived here, he engaged in a construction project

Joe Smith had regularized it with a sixteen-foot-wide, ten-foot-high surround

Smith was periodically assisted by a deaf, mute craftsman named Jude Macabee.

Evidence suggests that Jude was the only friend Joe Smith had.

Sig Pro by Sig Sauer. Chambered for forty-caliber Smith and Wesson rounds.

I can’t change the direction of the wind, but I can adjust my sails to always reach my destination. ‘’Jimmy Dean

you should never be proud of doing the right thing. You should just do the right thing.” To

Teenage boys fall in love with girls who have blond hair and blue eyes. Basketball coaches fall in love with players who have a cerebral court sense and a great jump shot.

Never be proud of doing the right thing;

Hate can destroy you or it can fuel you. I knew I had to find a way for it to fuel me.” Krzyzewski

And then there was the sad sign that a young woman working at a Tim Hortons in Lethbridge, Alberta, taped to the drive-through window in 2007. It read, “No Drunk Natives.” Accusations of racism erupted, Tim Hortons assured everyone that their coffee shops were not centres for bigotry, but what was most interesting was the public response. For as many people who called in to radio shows or wrote letters to the Lethbridge Herald to voice their outrage over the sign, there were almost as many who expressed their support for the sentiment. The young woman who posted the sign said it had just been a joke. Now, I’ll be the first to say that drunks are a problem. But I lived in Lethbridge for ten years, and I can tell you with as much neutrality as I can muster that there were many more White drunks stumbling out of the bars on Friday and Saturday nights than there were Native drunks. It’s just that in North America, White drunks tend to be invisible, whereas people of colour who drink to excess are not. Actually, White drunks are not just invisible, they can also be amusing. Remember how much fun it was to watch Dean Martin, Red Skelton, W. C. Fields, John Wayne, John Barrymore, Ernie Kovacs, James Stewart, and Marilyn Monroe play drunks on the screen and sometimes in real life? Or Jodie Marsh, Paris Hilton, Cheryl Tweedy, Britney Spears, and the late Anna Nicole Smith, just to mention a few from my daughter’s generation. And let’s not forget some of our politicians and persons of power who control the fates of nations: Winston Churchill, John A. Macdonald, Boris Yeltsin, George Bush, Daniel Patrick Moynihan. Hard drinkers, every one. The somewhat uncomfortable point I’m making is that we don’t seem to mind our White drunks. They’re no big deal so long as they’re not driving. But if they are driving drunk, as have Canada’s coffee king Tim Horton, the ex-premier of Alberta Ralph Klein, actors Kiefer Sutherland and Mel Gibson, Super Bowl star Lawyer Milloy, or the Toronto Maple Leafs’ Mark Bell, we just hope that they don’t hurt themselves. Or others. More to the point, they get to make their mistakes as individuals and not as representatives of an entire race.

When I have a chapter finished, I jot down who the viewpoint characters are, what they are wearing, what happened in the chapter. So as I go along, I outline each book as I write it. I never outline ahead of the writing, but after the writing is done. That keeps the creative side of my brain in control of the writing.

When a majority of people in any society share the same array of illusions and cling passionately to them, they will encourage one another until illusion becomes delusion, until delusion becomes mass insanity. Whole societies do go mad. History is filled with chilling examples. Joe Smith knew it when he built this house.

In Jack Kerouac’s iconic novel On the Road, the narrator Sal Paradise plays chronicler to the antics of the star of the story, Dean Moriarty, who is really the exemplar, the hero, the model. So just call me Sal. I’ve been on a ride with Augustine. Here’s what I’ve seen; here’s what he’s shown me (about myself); here’s why you might consider coming along.

What?" asked Natalie Blake. She really was too drunk to return to chambers. Her friend Layla was smiling, a little sadly. She was looking at the tablecloth. "Nothing. You're exactly the same." Natalie was in the middle of texting Melanie to warn her she would not be in now until tomorrow morning. "Right. It's not like I have to become another person just because - " "You always wanted to make it clear you weren't like the rest of us. You're still doing it." A waiter came over to ask about dessert. Natalie Blake, though eager for dessert, felt now she could not really order one. She was struck with dread. Her heart beat madly. She had a schoolgirl's impulse to report Layla Dean nee Thompson to the waiter. Layla's being horrible to me! Layla hates me! Outside, a car passed playing "Wanna Be Startin' Something'." Layla did not look up at the waiter and after a moment he went away. She had a thick white napkin she was twisting in both hands. "Even when we used to do those songs you'd be with me but also totally not with me. Showing off. False. Fake. Signaling to the boys in the audience, or whatever." "Layla, what are you talking about?" "And you're still doing it.

Conversely, if she has learned one thing about herself that is the most discouraging, it is that she is immune to the illusions in which so many people take comfort. Even though comfort based on an illusion is itself illusory, it is for a while a deliverance from the anxiety and existential dread that the world today can generate in abundance. She does not believe that any political ideology can shape society into a utopia. She knows that, instead, even the most earnest utopians always and everywhere create horrific dystopias. She does not believe that scientists are always honest, that rapidly advancing technology will inevitably save us, that everything that is called “progress” is in fact progress. She knows that “experts” are often frauds, that “intellectuals” can be as ignorant as anyone, and that those who most strenuously signal their virtue and are celebrated for it will always prove to be among the most corrupt. Such innate clearheadedness ensures that comforting illusions will elude her, though there are times, as now, when she might welcome the comfort of them. When a majority of people in any society share the same array of illusions and cling passionately to them, they will encourage one another until illusion becomes delusion, until delusion becomes mass insanity. Whole societies do go mad. History is filled with chilling examples. Joe Smith knew it when he built this house.

Truth: When you are writing new words, you are never wasting your time. Never. Here comes a dirty word. Better cover your ears. Practice. There, I said it. Imagine walking up to some poor kid who is practicing a musical instrument and telling that kid he is wasting his time by practicing. He needs to only play concerts or nothing at all. Can’t imagine that? Yet when your critical voice tells you that you might be wasting your time, that’s exactly what you are saying to yourself. You are saying your writing must always be special, that it can’t be done to practice. Yeah, believing every word you write is always special will freeze you down into making writing work and then fairly quickly stop you completely. And again, that’s what the critical voice wants. Critical voice does not want you writing or taking any chances. Period. And writing into the dark? Wow, what a chance that would be. Far too much of a chance to take because your writing is “special.” Your writing must always be perfect and maybe you had better add in just one more rewrite to be sure. And maybe one more rewrite after that, because rewriting isn’t wasting time. That italics part, folks, was a sarcastic attempt to show you just how stupid those thoughts are. If you believe all of that was advice, you are beyond my help. Truth: The biggest waste of time in writing is rewriting. Period.

Early in the game, when it was still close, a couple of calls had gone against Carolina. Some of the students had started a profane chant. It didn’t last very long, because Smith walked straight to the scorer’s table, took the PA microphone, pointed in the direction of the students, and said, “Stop. Now. We don’t do that here. We win with class at Carolina.” They stopped. Instantly. When

I was very demanding, but the role of a head coach is that of a demanding teacher. Those of you who are reading this book can probably all look back on a tough teacher you had, and if you’re lucky you think of him or her with affection. Demands must be coupled with true caring for the students. A demanding teacher is quick to praise action that deserves praise, but will criticize the act, not the person. The coach’s job is to be part servant in helping the player reach his goals. Certainly, coaching was not a matter of manipulating people to do what would help us. I never did like the term handle people, which to me meant conning people. The life insurance salesman who genuinely believes someone needs life insurance is different from the one who tries to manipulate or con them into buying something they do not need. I believed a demanding teacher should treat each player as an important part of the team, which, of course, he is. The least skilled player received the same attention from me as the best player. When their careers drew to a close, I always had what I called an “exit meeting” with each young man, to discuss what his goals had been and what they were for the future. To me, the players got the wins, and I got the losses. Caring for one another and building relationships should be the most important goal, no matter what vocation you are in.

I believe you should do three things every single day of your life,” he said. “One, you should laugh. Two, you should think. Pause and think about your life. And third, you should cry. Get yourself into a state of emotion where you shed a tear. If you do all three of those things—laugh, think, and cry—well, that’s one heck of a day.” Eight

Cancer may rob me of my physical powers. But it cannot touch my mind, it cannot touch my heart, and it cannot touch my soul. Those parts of me will live on forever.” The

English teachers, workshops, and myths try to make writers slow down. We are the ONLY ART on the planet that tells young artists to not practice and do less to get better. Head-shaking in its stupidity. And new writers buy into that.

followed Adam Smith on economics, Edmund Burke on society, The Federalist Papers on government, and a merger of Dean Acheson and John Foster Dulles on national security.

It is not possible to translate a language that does not exist.

What to do with a mistake: recognize it, admit it, learn from it, forget it.” – Dean Smith, 2-Time National Champion Basketball Coach

this: if endorphins are like having a single vodka and cranberry juice, serotonin is a double vodka and Red Bull, and dopamine, the gruntiest of them all, is like a dry martini, stirred, not shaken, no ice, no olives, drunk while listening to crooner Dean Martin.

There are national championship banners, Final Four banners, ACC Tournament championship banners, ACC regular season championship banners, NCAA Tournament banners, NIT banners, and “honored”—not retired—numbers. It appears that about half the players who ever put on a Carolina uniform are “honored.” Valvano looked at all the banners and pointed at one that said “ACC Champions” in huge letters. “What’s that writing at the bottom?” he asked. “I can’t read it.” The writing at the bottom said “Regular Season Tie.” “So let me get this straight,” Valvano said. “They tie for a regular season title and they put up a banner?” When this was confirmed, Valvano smiled. “Okay, now I’ve figured out what I’m going to do. I’m going to put up a banner for 1985 that says ‘National Champions!’ Then at the bottom, in tiny little letters, I’ll put ‘almost.’ After that, I’ll do the same thing for 1986. Damn, I just won my third national championship…almost.

The last editorial meeting I had was with a 24 year-old Vassar grad who tried to explain to me (after I had been selling novels longer than she had been alive) how to write a book. I kept my cool and was nice to the human, but as Kris and I walked down the sidewalk after that meeting, I remember my only words were ‘I’m done with this shit.

However,” Mengistu said, “for whatever reason, you are here. Once you are here, Headmaster Baneberry-Smith, his insect-obsessed wife, and his staff of brainwashers will steep your intellect in nonsense, poach your heart in lies, Cuisinart your soul, pour you into the Briarbush mold, bake you, and send you off to university where you will be spatulated with a bitter icing of entitlement, after which you will not have any memory of the kind of person you once were and wanted to be.

Never be proud of doing the right thing; just do the right thing.

Theme Song: Your Man – Down With Webster Bling Bling – ALTÉGO Let It All Go – Birdy & RHODES I Think You’re the Devil – Ellee Duke Legendary – Welshly Arms Wonderland – Taylor Swift Skin – Rihanna MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT – Elley Duhé Blue – Madison Beer Devil I Know – Allie X MONEY ON THE DASH – Elley Duhé & Whethan Way Down We Go – KALEO How Do I Say Goodbye – Dean Lewis Do Me – Kim Petras Crying On The Dancefloor – Sam Feldt, Jonas Blue, Endless Summer & Violet Days Wicked – GRANT Love and War – Fleurie Silence – Marshmello (feat. Khalid) Fire on Fire – Sam Smith

Existe entre muchos creyentes una ignorancia pasmosa de las Escrituras y, consecuentemente, existe también la necesidad de una fe bien fundamentada, bíblicamente y sólida. No tengo otra manera de explicar la facilidad con que la gente, como si fueran niños, “son llevados por doquiera de todo viento de doctrina” (Ef. 4:14). Existe un amor ateniense por las cosas novedosas y una aversión mórbida por cualquier cosa del pasado y regular, y por el sendero transitado por nuestros mayores. Miles de personas se congregan para escuchar una voz nueva y una doctrina nueva, sin considerar ni por un momento, si lo que están oyendo es cierto. Hay ansias incesantes de escuchar cualquier enseñanza sensacional y emocionante que apele a los sentimientos. Hay un apetito enfermizo por un cristianismo espasmódico e histérico. La vida religiosa de muchos es como beber una pequeña copita espiritual y “el espíritu afable y apacible” que recomienda San Pedro es totalmente olvidado (1 Pe. 3:4). Las multitudes, los llantos, los sitios calurosos, los cantos rimbombantes y una incesante apelación a las emociones, es lo único que a muchos les interesa. La incapacidad para distinguir las diferencias doctrinales cunde por doquier y, mientras el predicador sea “hábil” y “fervoroso”, cientos de oyentes parecen creer que tiene que estar predicando la verdad ¡y lo llaman a uno terriblemente “intolerante y duro”, si sugiere que no predica la verdad! Moody y Hawis, Dean Stanley y Canon Liddon, Mackonochie y Persall Smith les dan lo mismo a tales personas. Todo esto es triste, muy triste. Pero si, además de esto, los que sinceramente abogan por más santidad, caen por el camino o tienen diferencias entre sí, será más triste todavía. Entonces sí que estaremos peor. La

The stranger looked at his watch; he jumped to his feet. "Nine o'clock! Mrs. Braile, I'm ashamed. But you must blame your husband, partly. Good night, ma'am; good—Why, look here, Squire Braile!" he arrested himself in offering his hand. "How about the obscurity of the scene where Joe Smith founded his superstition, which bids fair to live right along with the other false religions? Was Leatherwood, Ohio, a narrower stage than Manchester, New York? And in point of time the two cults were only four years apart.

T’Pol.” Archer made his voice sting with command. “You’re coming dangerously close to violating a rule of the bridge. Don’t nag the captain.

my name is Bizzlenap Ipipip Smith,

If you treat every situation as a life and death matter, you’ll die a lot of times.

Now, it was Smith's move. He had a trump card, it turned out, in the form of a notebook. He took out some paper, made strange marks on it, then told his captors, who had no experience with any written language of their own, to deliver it to Jamestown. If they did, he promised, the English would give them some specific goods-perhaps a hatchet, copper trinkets, and beads-which they could bring back to their chief. Smith actually wrote on the note a warning to the colonists that the natives were preparing another attack. He advised his fellow Englishmen to make a great show of their weaponry, so as to deter future strikes, and instructed them to give the Indians exactly the items he'd told them to expect. After a three-day journey through snow and bitter cold, the Indians returned. They were astonished, Smith recalled, at how precisely he had divined their expedition, down to the last detail of what they would be given. In Smith's mind, at least, he had outfoxed the natives, saved the colony, ensured his survival, and further convinced the Indians of his magical powers, as they were made to believe that "the paper could speak

Jim Valvano and North Carolina State actually came close to beating Dean Smith and North Carolina both times the two teams faced each other during the regular season in 1980–81. Carolina won a pair of three-point games, but—naturally—that wasn’t the way Valvano told the story in the years that followed. The way Valvano told it, Carolina won both games in blowouts. He counted on the fact that most of his listeners wouldn’t remember the two games. “So, the second time we get blown out, an old State alumnus comes up to me and he says, ‘Coach, I know you’re a Yankee and you don’t understand about tradition down here, but we cannot be losing to the Tar Heels this way.’ “I say to him, ‘No, I do get it. I know all about the tradition down here and I promise you, next season we’re going to do a lot better against them.’ “He shakes his head and says, ‘Coach, you just don’t get it. If you lose to the Tar Heels here in Reynolds [Coliseum] next season, we’re going to kill your dog.’ “Okay, I’m just a little nervous now because the guy isn’t smiling even a little bit. But I say to him, ‘Look, I have to tell you, I don’t have a dog, but I hear you loud and clear.’ “He just nods and walks away. Next morning I go to the front door to get my newspaper, and when I open the door there’s a basket on my front step. I look under the blanket and there’s the cutest little puppy you’ve ever seen in your life. There’s a note attached to the puppy’s collar. It says, ‘Don’t get too attached.’ ” The story illustrated the intensity of the Triangle rivalries among N.C. State, North Carolina, and Duke.

Jim said,

1. You must write. 2. You must finish what you start. 3. You must refrain from rewriting except to editorial order. 4. You must put it on the market. 5. You must keep it on the market until sold.

The only purpose of the critical voice in creative writing is to stop you.

For further nonfiction reading on the Dozier School (not a complete list), read: We Carry Their Bones: The Search for Justice at the Dozier School for Boys by Erin Kimmerle The Boys of the Dark: A Story of Betrayal and Redemption in the Deep South by Robin Gaby Fisher The Bones of Marianna: A Reform School, a Terrible Secret, and a Hundred-Year Fight for Justice by David Kushner I Survived Dozier: The Deadliest Reform School in America by Richard Huntly The White House Boys: An American Tragedy by Roger Dean Kiser The Dozier School for Boys: Forensics, Survivors, and a Painful Past by Elizabeth A. Murray, PhD The Boys of Dozier by Daryl McKenzie Lies Uncovered: The Long Journey Home—The Truth About the Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys by Duane C. Fernandez, Sr. It Still Hurts: My Father’s Painful Account of Survival at the Florida Industrial School for Boys by Marshelle Smith Berry and Salih Izzaldin, edited by Joseph Carroll