Howard Carter Quotes

...as my eyes grew accustomed to the light, details of the room within emerged slowly from the mist, strange animals, statues, and gold - everywhere the glint of gold. For the moment - an eternity it must have seemed to the others standing by - I was struck dumb with amazement, and when Lord Carnarvon, unable to stand the suspense any longer, inquired anxiously, 'Can you see anything?' it was all I could do to get out the words, 'Yes, wonderful things.

I trained as a librarian, and I run a bookstore. Fucking right I can use a gun. ... if I have to engage somebody between the counter and the door, only the political autobiographies are in danger and who gives a fuck about those?

I trained as a librarian, and I run a bookstore. Fucking right I can use a gun.

I believe God wants to accomplish His work supernaturally on the face of the earth. He wants to take natural people and work supernaturally through them to bring about a mighty surge of His power, just the way He worked through Howard Carter. I challenge you to make yourself ready for Him to use you in this wonderful moment in which we live today.

he came into the store to threaten you with math and philosophy. The motherfucker’s going down.

All those histories of this country centered on the Founding Fathers and the Presidents weigh oppressively on the capacity of the ordinary citizen to act. They suggest that in times of crisis we must look to someone to save us: in the Revolutionary crisis, the Founding Fathers; in the slavery crisis, Lincoln; in the Depression, Roosevelt; in the Vietnam-Watergate crisis, Carter. And that between occasional crises everything is all right, and it is sufficient for us to be restored to that normal state. They teach us that the supreme act of citizenship is to choose among saviors, by going into a voting booth every four years to choose between two white and well-off Anglo-Saxon males of inoffensive personality and orthodox opinions.

Albert Einstein said that the only way to win at roulette is to steal from the table while the croupier isn’t looking.

He couldn’t see how you could scare the shit out of somebody with math, but it seemed you could.

Why choose the lesser evil anyway, when the greater evil is usually higher quality and will last longer before it breaks?

I don't want power. I just want things back the way they were, back to the good old days when we didn't have to be polite to Nazis.

dark heart of esoteric fuckery,

school sounds a bunch more two-fisted than I’d thought.

Lovecraft angled her head back until she was looking at Harrelson down her nose. "I trained as a librarian, and I run a bookstore. Fucking right I can use a gun.

I forget all about how good-looking she was at a distance because, close up? My balls pretty much sucked up into my body.” “I like your friend, Dan,” said Lovecraft. “He’s graphic.

Having to amuse myself during those earlier years, I read voraciously and widely. Mythic matter and folklore made up much of that reading—retellings of the old stories (Mallory, White, Briggs), anecdotal collections and historical investigations of the stories' backgrounds—and then I stumbled upon the Tolkien books which took me back to Lord Dunsany, William Morris, James Branch Cabell, E.R. Eddison, Mervyn Peake and the like. I was in heaven when Lin Carter began the Unicorn imprint for Ballantine and scoured the other publishers for similar good finds, delighting when I discovered someone like Thomas Burnett Swann, who still remains a favourite. This was before there was such a thing as a fantasy genre, when you'd be lucky to have one fantasy book published in a month, little say the hundreds per year we have now. I also found myself reading Robert E. Howard (the Cormac and Bran mac Morn books were my favourites), Lovecraft, Clark Ashton Smith and finally started reading science fiction after coming across Andre Norton's Huon of the Horn. That book wasn't sf, but when I went to read more by her, I discovered everything else was. So I tried a few and that led me to Clifford Simak, Roger Zelazny and any number of other fine sf writers. These days my reading tastes remain eclectic, as you might know if you've been following my monthly book review column in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction. I'm as likely to read Basil Johnston as Stephen King, Jeanette Winterson as Harlan Ellison, Barbara Kingsolver as Patricia McKillip, Andrew Vachss as Parke Godwin—in short, my criteria is that the book must be good; what publisher's slot it fits into makes absolutely no difference to me.

Irrelevant’ Chris Fogle turns a page. Howard Cardwell turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. ‘Groovy’ Bruce Channing attaches a form to a file. Ann Williams turns a page. Anand Singh turns two pages at once by mistake and turns one back which makes a slightly different sound. David Cusk turns a page. Sandra Pounder turns a page. Robert Atkins turns two separate pages of two separate files at the same time. Ken Wax turns a page. Lane Dean Jr. turns a page. Olive Borden turns a page. Chris Acquistipace turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Rosellen Brown turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. R. Jarvis Brown turns a page. Ann Williams sniffs slightly and turns a page. Meredith Rand does something to a cuticle. ‘Irrelevant’ Chris Fogle turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Howard Cardwell turns a page. Kenneth ‘Type of Thing’ Hindle detaches a Memo 402-C(1) from a file. ‘Second-Knuckle’ Bob McKenzie looks up briefly while turning a page. David Cusk turns a page. A yawn proceeds across one Chalk’s row by unconscious influence. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Rotes Group Room 2 hushed and brightly lit, half a football field in length. Howard Cardwell shifts slightly in his chair and turns a page. Lane Dean Jr. traces his jaw’s outline with his ring finger. Ed Shackleford turns a page. Elpidia Carter turns a page. Ken Wax attaches a Memo 20 to a file. Anand Singh turns a page. Jay Landauer and Ann Williams turn a page almost precisely in sync although they are in different rows and cannot see each other. Boris Kratz bobs with a slight Hassidic motion as he crosschecks a page with a column of figures. Ken Wax turns a page. Harriet Candelaria turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. Ambient room temperature 80° F. Sandra Pounder makes a minute adjustment to a file so that the page she is looking at is at a slightly different angle to her. ‘Irrelevant’ Chris Fogle turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Each Tingle’s two-tiered hemisphere of boxes. ‘Groovy’ Bruce Channing turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Six wigglers per Chalk, four Chalks per Team, six Teams per group. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Olive Borden turns a page. Plus administration and support. Bob McKenzie turns a page. Anand Singh turns a page and then almost instantly turns another page. Ken Wax turns a page. Chris ‘The Maestro’ Acquistipace turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Harriet Candelaria turns a page. Boris Kratz turns a page. Robert Atkins turns two separate pages. Anand Singh turns a page. R. Jarvis Brown uncrosses his legs and turns a page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. The slow squeak of the cart boy’s cart at the back of the room. Ken Wax places a file on top of the stack in the Cart-Out box to his upper right. Jay Landauer turns a page. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page and then folds over the page of a computer printout that’s lined up next to the original file he just turned a page of. Ken Wax turns a page. Bob Mc-Kenzie turns a page. Ellis Ross turns a page. Joe ‘The Bastard’ Biron-Maint turns a page. Ed Shackleford opens a drawer and takes a moment to select just the right paperclip. Olive Borden turns a page. Sandra Pounder turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page and then almost instantly turns another page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Paul Howe turns a page and then sniffs circumspectly at the green rubber sock on his pinkie’s tip. Olive Borden turns a page. Rosellen Brown turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Devils are actually angels. Elpidia Carter and Harriet Candelaria reach up to their Cart-In boxes at exactly the same time. R. Jarvis Brown turns a page. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page. ‘Type of Thing’ Ken Hindle looks up a routing code. Some with their chin in their hand. Robert Atkins turns a page even as he’s crosschecking something on that page. Ann Williams turns a page. Ed Shackleford searches a file for a supporting document. Joe Biron-Maint turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page.

There may be trouble. Anybody goes in there needs to know how to handle a gun. Do you?" Lovecraft angled her head back until she was looking at Harrelson down her nose. "I trained as a librarian, and I run a bookstore. Fucking right I can use a gun.

Clearly, there was something amiss with a political system, supposed to be democratic, in which the desires of the voters were repeatedly ignored. They could be ignored with impunity so long as the political system was dominated by two parties, both tied to corporate wealth. An electorate forced to choose between Carter and Reagan, or Reagan and Mondale, or Bush and Dukakis could only despair (or decide not to vote) because neither candidate was capable of dealing with a fundamental economic illness whose roots were deeper than any single presidency.

Oil shaped U.S. decisions about the Middle East during both Democratic and Republican presidencies. The administration of President Jimmy Carter, a liberal Democrat, had produced the “Carter Doctrine.” Under this doctrine, the United States claimed the right to defend its interest in Middle Eastern oil “by any means necessary, including military force.” In

When President Jimmy Carter, responding to the Soviet Union's invasion of Afghanistan, called for the registration of young men for military draft, more than 800,000 (10 percent) failed to register. One mother wrote to the New York Times: To the Editor:Thirty-six years ago I stood in front of the crematorium. The ugliest force in the world had promised itself that I should be removed from the cycle of life - that I should never know the pleasure of giving life. With great guns and great hatred, this force thought itself the equal of the force of life. I survived the great guns, and with every smile of my son, they grow smaller. It is not for me, sir, to offer my son's blood as lubricant for the next generation of guns. I remove myself and my own from the cycle of death. Isabella Leitner

Every branch of science likes to think it’s important, and of course, they all are. But they’re specializations. Much of biology, for example, is biochemistry, which is a specialization of organic chemistry, which is a specialization of chemistry, which is a specialization of physics, and physics is practical mathematics. No matter which set of matryoshka dolls you open in science, the innermost is always math.

In Atlantic City, Bernie Hayesman looked at the plate of ribs, and he was not happy. He had asked for an omelet, a simple omelet to be sent up to his office, and they had sent ribs. He couldn't understand it. He'd spoken to the chef personally. They'd discussed eggs, if briefly. There was no earthly way "omelet" could have been misconstrued as "ribs". He looked at the plate of ribs, and the ribs looked back. Neither he nor they were overjoyed at the situation.

Through the door at the end of the hall, Bushrod could see daylight. Gray and sullen it was, but daylight all the same. Through the years Bushrod had seen the dawn come to many fields, after many hard fights, and it was always a sacred moment to him--proof that the universe was still intact in spite of the blood on the ground, the hosts of Departed beginning their first day in eternity, the dead horses and broken gun carriages and scattered equipment--in spite of all the panoramic ruin of the battlefield so brutal and grotesque that it was a wonder God did not bury it in darkness forever--and with it the guilty living, who crept from their holes or their stiff blankets and looked about with astonishment on what they had done. But God never would bury it. He always seemed to want to start over again, whether out of anger or pity Bushrod could not say. And now here was another dawn, after another great fight, and once more God had permitted Bushrod Carter to live.

When I finished Fellowship of the Ring, it was the only volume out in paperback. I had to wait for Ace to bring out The Two Towers, and again for The Return of the King. Not a long wait, admittedly, but somehow it seemed like decades. The moment I got my hands on the next volume, I put everything else aside so I could read it, but halfway through The Return of the King, I slowed down. Only a few hundred pages remained, and once they were done, I would never be able to read The Lord of the Rings for the first time again. As much as I wanted to know how it all came out, I did not want the experience to be over - that was how fiercely I loved those books... as a reader. As a writer, however, I was seriously daunted by Tolkien. When I read Robert E. Howard, I would think, "Someday I may be able to write as well as him, " and when I read Lynn Carter or John Jakes, I would think, "I can write better stuff than this right now!" But when I read Tolkien, I despaired. "I will NEVER be able to do what he's done," I would think. "I will never be able to come close.

it was just likely to be human nature, the desire to do just enough and no more.

It was where parallel lines met, and circles meekly allowed themselves to be squared.

They were passing the “000” section, the outcasts of Dewey Decimal Classification

Looking like a suitable candidate for a David Byrne biopic set around the time of More Songs About Buildings and Food, Colt was not a popular man around campus.

It lacks the intelligence to do such a thing. With great power often comes great irresponsibility, a principle one observes often enough among people.

Well, the truth is we’re all just pawns in a cosmic chess match and we don’t actually know the rules or even what ‘winning’ looks like, but it’s probably going to look a lot like losing from our perspective, because all chess matches look like massacres when you’re a pawn.

[on Howard's new moustache] looks like a nest of spiders. With very short legs.

the National Program Office called the Presidential Successor Support System, or PS3 for short. The five preselected PS3 teams each consisted of veteran officials who could fill almost every top job in government. Under PS3, which traced its roots to the Carter administration and had no clear constitutional grounding, respected former officials like Howard H. Baker Jr., the onetime Senate Republican leader, former CIA director Richard Helms, former United Nations ambassador Jeane J. Kirkpatrick, and former cabinet secretary James Schlesinger

Sometimes just talking to somebody about things could help him see them in a different way, even if they didn’t say a word. Just accessing that little part of the brain that wonders how somebody is interpreting what you say can be enough to give a new perspective.

People talked like that then, that’s history. It’s people who talk like that now—no pass for them.

The sanctity of books always takes precedence over existential threats to reality. Jesus, what kind of philistine are you?

The measures we used to cut out extraneous interference here will not scale up economically, so we must build the rig a long way from civilization.” She looked seriously at him. “We considered New Jersey.

He still got a momentary spark of something stupid in its reflexiveness sometimes when he read a news story where some black kid had done some kind of stereotypically black thing that gave a certain strata of white folk a hard-on of righteousness, a spasm of old prejudices.