Hail Mary Quotes

Why don’t you just pretend that the asshole dropped dead? You can’t call or write to a dead man. Put a couple of candles in front of his picture, say a few Hail Marys, and get it over with.

I penetrated the outer cell membrane with a nanosyringe." "You poked it with a stick?" "No!" I said. "Well. Yes. But it was a scientific poke with a very scientific stick.

Human beings have a remarkable ability to accept the abnormal and make it normal.

Work fast." "Yeah." I point at the screen. "First I have to wait for my computer to wake up." "Hurry." "Okay, I'll wait faster." "Sarcasm.

He puts his claw against the divider. “Fist my bump.” “Fist-bump. It’s just ‘fist-bump.’” “Understand.

Grumpy. Angry. Stupid. How long since last sleep, question?

Good. Proud. I am scary space monster. You are leaky space blob.” He points to the breeder tanks. “Check tanks!

Once again I’m struck by melancholy. I want to spend the rest of my life studying Eridian biology! But I have to save humanity first. Stupid humanity. Getting in the way of my hobbies.

Usually you not stupid. Why stupid, question?

We’re as smart as evolution made us. So we’re the minimum intelligence needed to ensure we can dominate our planets.

We need to gather everyone we can. Damien scoffed. Uh, boss, hate to be a pall, but I think everyone we can gather is currently in this room. Sin paused to look at Simi, Xirena, Damien, Kat, Kish, and Xypher. It was a pitiful number of defenders. But it was all the world had. In that case, we need to seriously arm ourselves. Damien crossed himself. Hail Mary, full of grace- What are you doing? Kish asked. You're not Catholic. Yeah but I'm feeling really religious all of a sudden and it seemed like a good idea.

Knock-knock-knock No, that's not creepy at all. Being in a spaceship twelve light-years from home and having someone knock on the door is totally normal.

I spend a lot of time un-suiciding this suicide mission.

I gasped. "Wait a minute! Am I a guinea pig? I'm a guinea pig!" "No, it's not like that," she said. I stared at her. She stared at me. I stared at her. "Okay, it's exactly like that," she said.

I’m a scientist! Now we’re getting somewhere! Time for me to use science. All right, genius brain: come up with something! …I’m hungry. You have failed me, brain.

Good. Proud. I am scary space monster. You are leaky space blob.

I leaned to Dimitri. “Are all Russians crazy?” “Yes,” he said with a smile. “It is the only way to be Russian and happy at the same time.” “That’s…dark.” “That’s Russian!

Hail Mary, Forgive me, Blood for blood, hearts beating, come at me, now this is war!

Nora: What are you planning? Patch: I wouldn't call this planning. I'd call this throwing a Hail Mary with seconds left on the clock.

Oh thank God. I can’t imagine explaining “sleep” to someone who had never heard of it. Hey, I’m going to fall unconscious and hallucinate for a while. By the way, I spend a third of my time doing this. And if I can’t do it for a while, I go insane and eventually die. No need for concern.

Evolution can be insanely effective when you leave it alone for a few billion years.

I've gone from "sole-surviving space explorer" to "guy with a wacky new roommate." It'll be interesting to see how this plays out.

This is happy! Your face opening is in sad mode. Why, question?

Holy Crap,' Carolli said. 'You shot Jesus. That's gonna take a lot of Hail Marys.

I pull the sheet off the bed and wrap it around my torso a couple of times. I pull one corner over my shoulder from behind my back and tie it to another from the front. Instant toga. "Self-ambulation detected," says the computer. "What's your name?" "I am Emperor Comatose. Kneel before me." "Incorrect.

Besides, if I had a nickel for every time I wanted to smack a kid’s parents for not teaching them even the most basic things…well…I’d have enough nickels to put in a sock and smack those parents with it.

Humanity’s first miscommunication with an intelligent alien race. Glad I could be a part of it.

Intelligence evolves to gives us an advantage over the other animals on our planet. But evolution is lazy. Once a problem is solved, the trait stops evolving.

Every pore of my being yells at me to go back to sleep, but I told Rocky I’d be back in two hours and I wouldn’t want him to think humans are untrustworthy. I mean…we’re pretty untrustworthy, but I don’t want him to know that.

But I have to save humanity first. Stupid humanity. Getting in the way of my hobbies.

When stupid ideas work, they become genius ideas.

Another day, another staff meeting. Who would have thought saving the world could be so boring?

Do you believe in God? I know it’s a personal question. I do. And I think He was pretty awesome to make relativity a thing, don’t you? The faster you go, the less time you experience. It’s like He’s inviting us to explore the universe, you know?

Sometimes, the stuff we all hate ends up being the only way to do things.

Well, you’re not alone anymore, buddy,” I say. “Neither of us are.

But this is the interstellar equivalent of a stranger offering me candy.

Does that mean it's not no? Is that another yes? Now I'm confused. "No?" I ask "No" he says in Eridian. "So, 'yes'?" "No, yes." "Yes?" "No. No." "Yes, yes?" "No!" he balls a fist at me, clearly frustrated. Enough of this interspecies Abbott and Costello routine.

Math is not thinking. Math is procedure. Memory is not thinking. Memory is storage. Thinking is thinking. Problem, solution. You and me think same speed. Why, question?

No. You no can die. You are friend.

I’m smart enough now to know I’m stupid. That’s progress.

I don’t want to look dumb in front of the aliens.

Time to get to know my fellow patients. I don't know who I am or why I'm here, but at least I'm not alone--aaaand they're dead.

He waves to me with a free arm. He knows one human greeting and by golly he plans to use it.

Be careful,' says Rocky. 'You are friend now.' 'Thanks,' I say. 'You are friend also.' 'Thank.

It's a weird feeling, scientific breakthroughs. There's no Eureka moment. Just a slow, steady progression toward a goal. But man, when you get to that goal it feels good.

Sheesh—you almost ruin a mission one time and all of a sudden you have an alien-enforced bedtime.

In that case, we need to seriously arm ourselves. (Sin) Hail Mary, full of grace – (Kish) What are you doing? You’re not Catholic. (Damien) Yeah, but I’m feeling really religious all of a sudden and it seemed like a good idea. (Kish)

That’s pretty much a rule in electronics: You never get diodes right on the first try.

Man, being an American scientist sucks sometimes. You think in random, unpredictable units based on what situation you’re in.

For two weeks, I lay awake at night and said Hail Marys over and over to stop my heart from beating too fast. I suddenly realized how much being a husband was about fear: fear of not being able to keep somebody safe, of not being able to protect somebody from all the bad stuff you want to protect them from. Knowing they have more tears in them than you will be able to keep them from crying. I realized that Renee had seen me fail, and that she was the person I was going to be failing in front for the rest of my life. It was just a little failure, but it promised bigger failures to come. Additional ones, anyway. But that's who your wife is, the person you fail in front of. Love it so confusing; there's no peace of mind.

When European mariners first came across Asian mariners, no one was surprised they both used sails.

Sometimes I feel like a funny-looking rock in the middle of the most beautiful clear ocean when I read the kinds of things you write to me. You love so much bigger than yourself, bigger than everything. I can’t believe how lucky I am to even witness it—to be the one who gets to have it, and so much of it, is beyond luck and feels like fate. Catholic God made me to be the person you write those things about. I’ll say five Hail Marys. Muchas gracias, Santa Maria.

Abby preened. “You asked who could tell you the radius of Earth. Trang can tell you. I answered correctly.” Outsmarted by a thirteen-year-old.

what’s the point of even having a world if you’re not going to pass it on to the next generation?

I’m on a suicide mission. John, Paul, George, and Ringo get to go home, but my long and winding road ends here.

Deadline-induced quality issues: a problem all over the galaxy.

The hardest part about working with aliens and saving humanity from extinction is constantly having to come up with names for stuff.

Oh my God, she’d kissed him! She’d stuck her tongue inside a creature from hell. Oh jeez, this would sound great in confession. Say two Hail Marys and avoid further contact with the spawn of the devil.

I clench every part of me that I know how to clench. It gives me a feeling of control. I’m doing something by aggressively doing nothing.

All life needs is a chemical reaction that results in copies of the original catalyst.

So I'm a single man in my thirties, who lives alone in a small apartment, I don't have any kids, but I like kids a lot. I don't like where this is going... A teacher! I'm a schoolteacher! I remember it now! Oh, thank God. I'm a teacher.

Adjust orbit while stupid. Good plan.' I snicker. 'New word: "sarcasm." You say opposite of true meaning to make point. Sarcasm.

And just like that another climate denier is born. See how easy it is? All I have to do is tell you something you don’t want to hear.

I should be more focused on the "first contact with intelligent aliens" thing or the "save all of humanity" thing, but gosh darn it, I can spend a moment to be happy about being right when everyone said I was wrong.

Broadly speaking, the human brain is a collection of software hacks compiled into a single, somehow-functional unit. Each “feature” was added as a random mutation that solved some specific problem to increase our odds of survival. In short, the human brain is a mess.

I could not fail myself and die on a fish like this," he said. "Now that I have him coming so beautifully, God help me endure. I'll say a hundred Our Fathers and a hundred Hail Marys. But I cannot say them now." Consider them said, he thought. I'll say them later.

Hail Mary full of Grace the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.' Then he added, 'Blessed Virgin, pray for the death of this fish wonderful though he is.

Yes. There’ll be wars. Fought for the same reason most wars in ancient times were fought for: food. They’d use religion or glory or whatever as an excuse, but it was always about food. Farmlands and people to work that land.

Light is a funny thing. Its wavelength defines what it can and can’t interact with. Anything smaller than the wavelength is functionally nonexistent to that photon. That’s why there’s a mesh over the window of a microwave. The holes in the mesh are too small for microwaves to pass through. But visible light, with a much shorter wavelength, can go through freely. So you get to watch your food cook without melting your face off.

One thing I learned back in my graduate school days: When you’re stupid tired, accept that you’re stupid tired. Don’t try to solve things right then.

You have been a bad alien cylinder," I say to it. "You need a time-out.

Got to love computers. They do all the thinking for you so you don’t have to.

Next time, I’ll be laying you flat on your back and showing you all the different ways a tongue can be used that doesn’t involve praying your Hail-Fucking-Mary’s.

You and me science how to kill Astrophage together. Save Earth. Save Erid. This is good plan, question?

We have figured this out, yes,” said Dimitri. “With lasers. It was very illuminating experiment.” “Was that a pun?” “It was!

What would you call an organism that exists on a diet of stars?

For fifty thousand years, right up to the industrial revolution, human civilization was about one thing and one thing only: food. Every culture that existed put most of their time, energy, manpower, and resources into food. Hunting it, gathering it, farming it, ranching it, storing it, distributing it…it was all about food.

You observe, question?' he asks again. 'No.' 'Observe.' 'You want me to observe you sleep?' 'Yes. Want want want.' Through unspoken agreement, a tripled word means extreme emphasis. 'Why?' 'I sleep better if you observe.

Humanity has been accidentally causing global warming for a century. Let’s see what we can do when we really set our minds to it.

It’s the kids of today that’ll have to make the world of tomorrow work.

I penetrated the outer cell membrane with a nanosyringe.” “You poked it with a stick?” “No!” I said. “Well. Yes. But it was a scientific poke with a very scientific stick.

Stupid humanity. Getting in the way of my hobbies.

Option 1: Go home a hero and save all of humanity. Option 2: Go to Erid, save an alien species, and starve to death shortly after.

Maybe that ship is the Praise Allah or the Blessings of Vishnu or something.

He points to his ship. “I have twenty-two million kilograms of Taumoeba in fuel bays. How much you want, question?

Evolution is extremely good at filling every nook in the ecosystem

theses bleak skies I hail, for they are kinder to me than ur fellow creatures .

Catholicism From my perspective as a former follower of Santeria (which is the worship of saints), Catholicism is the worship of the saints, which are idols, and the worship of Mary. How is it that you can confess your sins to man and your sins are forgiven, or pray to statues and they take your prayers to the Lord? How is it that saying three Hail Mary’s and three Our Father’s forgives our sins? How is it that praying the rosary gets you closer to God? What is this place called Purgatory, as the Scripture says in 2 Corinthians 5:8: “We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.” As well, Jesus told the thief on the Cross, in Luke 23:43: “I assure you, today you will be with me in Paradise” (NLT). Jesus said Paradise, not Purgatory.

I have to assume friendly intent at this point. I mean, they’re going out of their way to say hi and be accommodating. Besides, if there is hostile intent, what would I do about it? Die. That’s what I’d do. I’m a scientist, not Buck Rogers.

We’re part of the ecology, Ms. Stratt. We’re not outside it. The plants we eat, the animals we ranch, the air we breathe—it’s all part of the tapestry. It’s all connected. As the biomes collapse, it’ll have a direct impact on humanity.

To say 'Hail Mary, Hail Mary,' is the best way of telling her how much we love her. And then this string of beads is like Our Lady's girdle, and her children love to finger it, and whisper to her. And then we say our paternosters, too; and all the while we are talking she is shewing us pictures of her dear Child, and we look at all the great things He did for us, one by one; and then we turn the page and begin again.

Anyway, it means I can finally eat meat. Yes, that’s right, I’m eating human meat. But it’s my own meat, and I don’t feel bad about it. Spend a decade eating nothing but odd-tasting, vaguely sweet vitamin shakes and then see if you’ll turn down a burger. I love meburgers. I eat one every day.

They hit you if you can’t say your name in Irish, if you can’t say the Hail Mary in Irish, if you can’t ask for the lavatory pass in Irish. It helps to listen to the big boys ahead of you. They can tell you about the master you have now, what he likes and what he hates. One master will hit you if you don’t know that Eamon De Valera is the greatest man that ever lived. Another master will hit you if you don’t know that Michael Collins was the greatest man that ever lived. Mr. Benson hates America and you have to remember to hate America or he’ll hit you. Mr. O’Dea hates England and you have to remember to hate England or he’ll hit you. If you ever say anything good about Oliver Cromwell they’ll all hit you.  •

I believe that we're much healthier if we think of our selfishness as sin. Which is what it is: a sin. Even if there is nothing out there except a random movement of untold gases and objects, sin still exists. You don't need a devil with horns. It's a social definition of sin. Everything we do that is self-indulgent, and that is selfish, and that turns us away from our dignity as human beings is a sin against what we were born with, the capacities we have, what we could make of this planet. Our whole age has taken the line that if you feel bad about yourself, it's something that you can be relieved of by your goddamn analyst. Psst!—it's gone! And then you'll be happy, you know? But that feeling is not something you should be relieved of. It's something you should deal with. And there's no remission for what I mean by "sin," except doing something useful. The confessional does the same thing as the shrink, rather more quickly and cheaper. Three "Hail Mary"s, and you're out. But I've never been the kind of religious person that thinks saying "Hail Mary" is gonna get me out of it.

Even If I Don’t See it Again Even if I don’t see it again.–nor ever feel it I know it is–and that if once it hailed me it ever does– and so it is myself I want to turn in that direction not as towards a place, but it was a tilting within myself, as one turns a mirror to flash the light to where it isn’t.–I was blinded like that–and swam in what shone at me only able to endure it by being no one and so specifically myself I thought I’d die from being loved like that.

Do you think I don’t know you, Dr. Grace?!” she yelled. “You’re a coward and you always have been. You abandoned a promising scientific career because people didn’t like a paper you wrote. You retreated to the safety of children who worship you for being the cool teacher. You don’t have a romantic partner in your life because that would mean you might suffer heartbreak. You avoid risk like the plague.

Annie held up her hand. “Oh, sorry. One more thing—” She turned to DuBois. “Martin, we have about fifteen minutes of personal time after this lesson and before our next training exercise. Want to meet up in the bathroom down the hall and have sex?” “I find that agreeable,” said DuBois. “Thank you, Dr. Shapiro.” “Okay, cool.” They both looked to me, ready for their lesson. I waited a few seconds to make sure there was no more oversharing, but they seemed content. “Okay, so the Krebs cycle in Astrophage has a variant—wait. Do you call her Dr. Shapiro while having sex?” “Of course. That’s her name.” “I kind of like it,” she said. “I’m sorry I asked,” I said. “Now,

She had no need in her heart for either book or magazine. She had her own way of escape, her own passage into contentment: her rosary. That string of white beads, the tiny links worn in a dozen places and held together by strands of white thread which in turn broke regularly, was, bead for bead, her quiet flight out of the world. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. And Maria began to climb. Bead for bead, life and living fell away. Hail Mary, Hail Mary. Dream without sleep encompassed her. Passion without flesh lulled her. Love without death crooned the melody of belief. She was away: she was free; she was no longer Maria, American or Italian, poor or rich, with or without electric washing machines and vacuum cleaners; here was the land of all-possessing. Hail Mary, Hail Mary, over and over, a thousand and a hundred thousand times, prayer upon prayer, the sleep of the body, the escape of the mind, the death of memory, the slipping away of pain, the deep silent reverie of belief. Hail Mary and Hail Mary. It was for this that she lived.

What do you mean? What do you demand of your captain? Are you then so easily turned from your design? Did you not call this a glorious expedition? And wherefore was it glorious? Not because the way was smooth and placid as a southern sea, but because it was full of dangers and terror; because at every new incident your fortitude was to be called forth and your courage exhibited; because danger and death surrounded it, and these you were to brave and overcome. For this was it a glorious, for this was it an honourable undertaking. You were hereafter to be hailed as the benefactors of your species; your names adored as belonging to brave men who encountered death for honour and the benefit of mankind. And now, behold, with the first imagination of danger, or, if you will, the first mighty and terrific trial of your courage, you shrink away, and are content to be handed down as men who had not strength enough to endure cold and peril; and so, poor souls, they were chilly and returned to their warm firesides. Why that requires not this preparation; ye need not have come thus far, and dragged your captain to the shame of a defeat, merely to prove yourselves cowards. Oh! be men, or be more than men. Be steady to your purposes and firm as a rock. This ice is not made of such stuff as your hearts may be; it is mutable and cannot withstand you if you say that it shall not. Do not return to your families with the stigma of disgrace marked on your brows. Return as heroes who have fought and conquered, and who know not what it is to turn their backs on the foe.

In the years since the disaster, I often think of my friend Arturo Nogueira, and the conversations we had in the mountains about God. Many of my fellow survivors say they felt the personal presence of God in the mountains. He mercifully allowed us to survive, they believe, in answer to our prayers, and they are certain it was His hand that led us home. I deeply respect the faith of my friends, but, to be honest, as hard as I prayed for a miracle in the Andes, I never felt the personal presence of God. At least, I did not feel God as most people see Him. I did feel something larger than myself, something in the mountains and the glaciers and the glowing sky that, in rare moments, reassured me, and made me feel that the world was orderly and loving and good. If this was God, it was not God as a being or a spirit or some omnipotent, superhuman mind. It was not a God who would choose to save us or abandon us, or change in any way. It was simply a silence, a wholeness, an awe-inspiring simplicity. It seemed to reach me through my own feelings of love, and I have often thought that when we feel what we call love, we are really feeling our connection to this awesome presence. I feel this presence still when my mind quiets and I really pay attention. I don’t pretend to understand what it is or what it wants from me. I don’t want to understand these things. I have no interest in any God who can be understood, who speaks to us in one holy book or another, and who tinkers with our lives according to some divine plan, as if we were characters in a play. How can I make sense of a God who sets one religion above the rest, who answers one prayer and ignores another, who sends sixteen young men home and leaves twenty-nine others dead on a mountain? There was a time when I wanted to know that god, but I realize now that what I really wanted was the comfort of certainty, the knowledge that my God was the true God, and that in the end He would reward me for my faithfulness. Now I understand that to be certain–-about God, about anything–-is impossible. I have lost my need to know. In those unforgettable conversations I had with Arturo as he lay dying, he told me the best way to find faith was by having the courage to doubt. I remember those words every day, and I doubt, and I hope, and in this crude way I try to grope my way toward truth. I still pray the prayers I learned as a child–-Hail Marys, Our Fathers–-but I don’t imagine a wise, heavenly father listening patiently on the other end of the line. Instead, I imagine love, an ocean of love, the very source of love, and I imagine myself merging with it. I open myself to it, I try to direct that tide of love toward the people who are close to me, hoping to protect them and bind them to me forever and connect us all to whatever there is in the world that is eternal. …When I pray this way, I feel as if I am connected to something good and whole and powerful. In the mountains, it was love that kept me connected to the world of the living. Courage or cleverness wouldn’t have saved me. I had no expertise to draw on, so I relied upon the trust I felt in my love for my father and my future, and that trust led me home. Since then, it has led me to a deeper understanding of who I am and what it means to be human. Now I am convinced that if there is something divine in the universe, the only way I will find it is through the love I feel for my family and my friends, and through the simple wonder of being alive. I don’t need any other wisdom or philosophy than this: My duty is to fill my time on earth with as much life as possible, to become a little more human every day, and to understand that we only become human when we love. …For me, this is enough.