Elliott Hill Quotes

This is the place that years ago, had caught the eye of Dasani's Brooklyn principal, Miss Holmes. She had been standing in the theme park below, squinting up, saying, " What is that?". Now Dasani stands at the thop of that hill, gazing down at the park. SHe sees a tangle of roller coasters and other rides, a view that leaves her awestruck. It is hard to know which site holds more power- a theme park in the eyes of of a poor child, or a palatial school in the eyes of a Brooklyn principal.

The closer you looked at Los Angeles, the less sense the place made. Living here was like living inside a confusing dream that threatened to plunge into a nightmare at any moment. Richie viewed LA as their salvation, but Alabama saw the truth: It wanted to consume them.

Today, one must dig to uncover the history of Black Fort Greene, whose pioneers seem in danger of being forgotten. Dr. McKinney’s former brownstone at 205 DeKalb Avenue—the site of her thriving medical practice—would be listed for sale in 2016 for nearly $2.7 million, without any mention of its history. Instead, the names of Brooklyn’s slave-holding families dominate the terrain. Boerum Hill (named for Simon Boerum, a man with three slaves). Wyckoff Street (Peter Wyckoff, enslaver of seven). Ditmas Park (four slaves). Luquer Street (thirteen). Van Brunt Street (seven). Cortelyou Road (two). Both Van Dam and Bayard streets are named for the owners of slave ships, while Stuyvesant Heights is named for the man who governed the New Netherland colony of the Dutch West India Company, which shipped tens of thousands of slaves. Even the McKinney school began with a slave-owning name. Back when Dasani’s grandmother was a student, this was still the Sands Junior High School, named for Joshua Sands (enslaver of six) and his brother Comfort Sands (three). None of this is known to Dasani, whose parents only talk about the slavery of their Southern ancestors. The North is where they came to be free.

I don't think you can get to where you're truly meant to go until you travel that one road...the one that's filled with sharp turns, steep hills, and nothing but pot-holes that you have to try and get around. After you make it off that road, you find the one that's straight, smooth, and filled with nothing but happiness.

I have cancer,” Agnes announced. She hadn’t been able to contain her rage after all. She didn’t expect it to come out that way—it just had. Her hands rose to the sides of her rib cage, a gesture left over from when there had been drains there. “You got the flowers we sent?” He’d been coming straight toward her but stopped, as if she’d announced a contagion. “Probably. Did I write a note?” He laughed. “Probably! How did this happen, though?” He shifted gears, stepped closer to her, looked her in the eye, and asked—intimately, wittily—“Have you been smoking, Cousin Nessie?” “Wouldn’t that be nice!” “Yes. I’d love to myself. I always say I’ll pick it up again at eighty. But you are eighty!” “And now I’m saying I’ll start at ninety.” “Oh, is that how it goes? I don’t know if I’ll last that long.” “That makes two of us.” His face crumpled. A little boy again. “Oh come on, Archie, if you can’t laugh at death, what can you laugh at?” She gave him a light punch on the arm. “I’ll be lucky to live to the age you are now,” he said awkwardly. “Yes. It is fortunate. Everything becomes very clear.” “But you still feel young, don’t you?” “Are you kidding? I feel old as the hills and twice as dusty, as my mother would say.” “You better come see the view immediately, in that case.” He hovered his hand under her elbow and moved her forward.

We have seen a movement from many deities to two to one. Whether you take that movement to be fact, mythology, or theology, it is the story of how we got to where most (Western) religions are now. And, as I said, it even defines where atheism is at. Have you heard the old joke about the Jewish man who was left on a desert island for years? When a ship found him, they saw two large huts that he had built on a hill. They asked him what they were. He said, "That one's my synagogue." ... And they asked him what the other hut was. He said, "That's the synagogue I don't go to!" (You can change this to churches or any house of worship you like when you tell the joke.) So we hear people say, "Do you believe in God?" But we do not generally hear people say, "Do you believe in the gods?" The religion that atheists don't go to is monotheism--by default. Or, better: by history. ... I have read and heard it said many times that monotheism has done more harm than polytheism. The claim is that monotheism is exclusive--"If my belief is right, then everybody else's belief must be wrong"--so monotheists are more likely than polytheists or atheists to exclude, persecute, and purge others. We can admit there is some logic to that claim, but still the evidence of history goes both ways. Polytheists and atheist nations and empires have done their share of atrocities. I would not want to take a side in a depressing debate over which has done more horrible things. My task here has not been to argue that monotheism is higher or lower than other ideas. It has just been to track how it came about and to recognize that it succeeded. Monotheism won. One won.

achieved an outcome that he could call a victory by capturing fifty-three women and children. But in the process, he failed to support his detachment of scouts led by Major Joel Elliott. The detachment was killed and butchered by an army of warriors that Custer didn’t know was there. Benteen, for one, never forgave Custer for failing to make a stronger effort to save Elliott and the scouts. Now, Custer faced a similar problem. He believed the noncombatants were running north from the village. But to his south, Reno’s battalion was in danger of being destroyed. He couldn’t capture the noncombatants and save Reno at the same time. As Custer deliberated, his youngest brother, Boston, rode up. Boston had ridden back to the pack train to exchange his horse for a fresh mount. Along the way, he passed Benteen’s battalion, and now he told his brother that Benteen’s men were on the trail to the battlefield and the pack train was only a mile behind them. Custer decided he needed a better view of the landscape. He led his column farther north, across a wide ravine and up onto a high ridge. From there, he saw even more of the village and realized it was even larger than he’d previously believed. He also saw a dust cloud to the south that he thought was a sign of Benteen’s battalion. If Benteen hurried as ordered, he could reunite with Custer in less than half an hour. That thought solidified the decision in Custer’s mind, and Custer explained his plan to his senior officers. Custer split his command into two wings. He told his old friend Captain George Yates to lead the smaller wing, with two of the five companies, over the hills and down a ravine toward the river. Yates would make a big show of acting like he was going to charge across the river and into the village, but in reality, he would secure a place to cross for the rest of the column. Custer would stay with the larger wing—the three companies commanded by Captain Myles Keogh—and wait for Benteen. If Benteen arrived soon, his three companies would join with Keogh’s three companies and rush down to Yates’s position. Then all eight companies would cross the river together and storm the village. If Benteen was delayed, then Keogh’s companies would fire

He laughed. “But I love to ride, just as—as fire loves to burn. I love to see the mountains in the winter, the sea and the northern hills in the summer. Would you live forever in one place, never seeing another?

But Elliott found no signs of “Christian civilization” on Paint Creek, for there, he observed, the mine owners’ quest for “dividends” had led to the degradation and impoverishment of their employees. “God does not walk in these hills,” the general concluded. “The devil is here in these hills, and the devil is greed.

As they lived into the plains, the Cheyennes named its parts according to how they saw and used them. Rivers were especially telling. Nebraska’s Niobrara was the Sudden or Unexpected River. The Platte was the Moonshell or Musselshell, the Arkansas was the Flint Arrowpoint, and the South Platte was Fat or Tallow River. They named the Solomon by its prolific game bird—the Turkeys Creek. The Smoky Hill went by its most welcoming feature: the Bunch of Timber River.21

In the field steam radiated off her skin as she spun glowing blue & orange. they thought she played with mist the sparse particles hovering around her, but all she did was look within the maneuver was the dot made clear. spiraling into herself she made the sun rise. hills rose (by themselves) in the far, far distance, lying down in comfort across the faded green horizon. here, in the concrete field we grew.